Healing Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  That was as good a way of summing up their lives as any, he supposed, except he wanted more than just getting through the days. Most of the time, he had it better than Dafydd was describing, with real happiness and purpose that was only occasionally disturbed by the lingering effects of his captivity. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in rejecting some chemical help.

  “Do you… Would you mind if I tried one of those?”

  Dafydd’s expression turned canny, a distinct change from the normally placid demeanor the man presented. It reminded Brenin of the night he’d escaped.

  “I’ll share all right, but I need something in return.”

  Wary, he asked, “Like what?”

  “Scotch. There must be loads of it onboard. I couldn’t pack anything with Lucien hanging around and helping. If you can get me a bottle of Malcolm’s spirits, I’ll share my pills with you. I’ll give you one a day, even, because the liquor makes it work better,” he added in when Brenin started to shake his head.

  “It’s dangerous, Dafydd, to mix the two. I know it is.”

  His friend batted the concern away. “I’ve been doing it for weeks. You have to be careful, mun, that’s all. One pill and a couple of slugs of liquor is fine.”

  Brenin knew it was a terrible bargain to make. He should run right back to Malcolm and the others and tell them. Except he couldn’t betray Dafydd that way. The two of them shared a bond that no one else would understand. Not really. Dafydd could have reveled in Brenin’s misery back in Wales, happy to have someone else distracting their brutal master. He hadn’t, though. Instead, he’d yielded his own careful plans of escape to give Brenin a chance at freedom. It had been an act of compassion and generosity that few in the history of humanity would ever experience. Whatever else Dafydd might be, he was noble in the finest sense of the word. Brenin couldn’t bring himself to betray him, even for his own good.

  “It helps, you say?”

  Dafydd’s eyes closed and his face went lax. “Just thinking of it makes life bearable.” He opened them again. “It’s not forever, Brenin. You want to enjoy being with your mun again, don’t you?”

  “Y-yes, but…”

  “No buts. Try it. If you don’t like what it does, then stop.”

  “Okay, maybe once.” A voice inside his head screamed at him that he was making a terrible mistake. It was one thing to turn a blind eye to Dafydd’s action, another to join in. Ignoring his own inner warning, he reached for the pills.

  Dafydd grabbed his hand. “Not yet. It’s too early in the day. Plus, you need to get the Scotch first.”

  He looked his countryman in the eyes and saw determination and hardness. Again, it reminded him of the night Dafydd had sent him fleeing to save his life. The guy had been right at the time, and Brenin had put aside his fear and blindly followed his direction. It had worked out then. Why not now?

  Pulling his hand back, he nodded. “All right. If you say so. I’ll wait until we’re underway before grabbing the Scotch. Malcolm has a ton of it and won’t miss one bottle, as you say—or frankly ten. Not that we should drink that much,” he quickly added.

  “Of course not,” Dafydd agreed before standing. “I should unpack and retrieve Idris. Mackie is that kind to watch him, but he’s my responsibility.” He smiled, a genuine look of happiness. “It will be nice having a beach to play on. I’ve never done such a thing before. I bet Idris will love it. Don’t you think?” Dafydd opened a bag and started pulling things out.

  Brenin did the same, glad for the change of subject and for the distraction a mundane task brought. “I’m sure of it. It’s been ages since I’ve been to one. It’s ever so much fun.”

  That’s right. He should focus on the healthy choice of playing under the sun and not on the lure of that little bottle of pills.

  * * * *

  Ric jumped out of his Lyft ride, dragging his bags with him. Although he knew MacLerie wasn’t going to take off without him, he felt guilty holding everyone up. He was in such a rush that it took him a moment to realize he was about to board something right out of a reality TV show about the rich and famous. It was nothing like the old fishing trawler that they’d taken to Wales. It was the kind of ship where one had cocktails on the lido deck, whatever the hell that was.

  He craned his neck as he hurried down the dock and saw endless rows of shiny windows, brass and highly polished wood trim gleaming in the bright sun. Music was playing somewhere inside, the sort one heard in the club. He figured the boys had already gotten the party started with their men taking in the scene with equal parts indulgence and desire.

  His theory was confirmed in the next instant when Mackie, wearing only his collar and a pink speedo that was modest by his standards, leaned over the railing and waved.

  “Hey, Dr. Ric! Come aboard. This party boat is ready to set sail.”

  Waving back, he shouted, “Thanks for waiting.”

  He picked up his speed and plowed his way up the gangplank. Val was there to greet him, sunglasses and ball cap pulled down low to obscure his face. He repeated his thanks to the man.

  “No worries, Doc. Happy to have you along.”

  “I got lucky. One of my colleagues was willing to switch schedules with me. I have four days off.” He placed his duffle and the gift bag he carried onto the deck. “Can I help in any way?”

  “Nope. MacLerie is a one-man operation with me to play swabbie. Go on into the saloon and get your bearings. Dafydd’s in there,” he added almost casually. Almost.

  “Thanks.”

  Picking up his bags again, he sucked in a few deep breaths to calm himself. His half-formed plans made him nervous, but the first test of them would come from Dafydd seeing him. If the guy balked too much at his presence, then the rest of the scheme would go to shit immediately, and he’d have to fall back on simply ratting Dafydd out to Harry. He really didn’t want to have to do that, but he also wasn’t going to simply watch to see if Dafydd overdosed.

  I wasn’t willing to let him die in Wales, and I’m for damn sure not going to allow it now.

  He walked out of the heat of the day into the cool of the air-conditioned saloon that could have easily accommodated the old nineteenth century ruling families of New York. MacLerie had spared no expense, and the sheer luxury of the setting made even Club Lux look like a tacky bar. And as he’d imagined, the boys had already created a party atmosphere with music and dancing. Each one of them was in various states of provocative clothing, except for Brenin, whose kilt seemed quite sedate in comparison to the thongs dotting the room. Alex and Emil sat next to each other, tracking their boys’ movements with hungry expressions, while Harry and Lucien cuddled nearby. They all seemed perfectly at ease with the open displays of sexuality. Ric envied their lack of inhibition.

  Dafydd, of course, was his main focus, and he was another outlier, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, sitting on the floor in a far corner with Idris. He was watching his son play with alphabet blocks. But his gaze shot up and over to Ric within a few seconds of his entering the room. It was rather gratifying the way his presence was noted so quickly. It gave Ric some hope that Dafydd was more interested in him than he let on.

  Maybe he’s simply leery of me.

  Regardless, there was no way Dafydd would be pleased to see him once he understood the reason why he had moved mountains to be able to take off with the rest of them. Vincente hadn’t hidden his displeasure, notwithstanding that Ric’s shifts were covered and wouldn’t inconvenience the head pathologist in any way. He got the impression that his boss didn’t think he was dedicated to his job. That wasn’t true. It was very simply that Dafydd’s safety took precedence over all other considerations. Ric was prepared to lose his job if it came to that, so long as he kept Dafydd safe.

  He offered up a smile as he weaved through the tangle of dancing boys. Dafydd narrowed his eyes, then he broke contact with Ric and returned his attention to the baby. Idris took that moment to smack down what he’d built.

  “That’s
not what they’re for, Idris.” Dafydd patiently picked up the blocks and put them in a neat row.

  “Here, he might like this instead.” Ric set his duffle aside and, kneeling in front of the two, pulled a box out of the gift bag. “I bought this a couple of days ago on impulse. I was going to bring it to Maine when I visited. Luckily, I was able to free my schedule and join you now.” He smiled brightly while holding his breath.

  Dafydd rolled his eyes. “You’ve come to keep tabs on me, then?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” Ric replied cheerily, determined that his presence not cause alarm in the others. “Shall we open this?”

  Dafydd shrugged. “As you like.”

  “Oh, I hope it’s Idris that does the liking. See here? It’s a garage.” He spoke to the child, who eyed him with a look of suspicion that eerily mimicked his father’s.

  Wisely, he’d opened it before so all he had to do was flip the two halves of the top and tug the plastic building out. He set it on the floor then proceeded to unwrap the little people and vehicles that went with it.

  “See, Idris? You put the car here, crank this bit and watch.” He sent the car rolling down the ramp.

  The baby shrieked with laughter and smacked his chubby hands together. “’Gain!”

  “You got it, boss.” Ric repeated the play then showed the boy other features of the toy. “You try it,” he said, pushing it closer to where Idris sat.

  The first thing the kid did was pick up the car and slobber all over it. After that, he got serious and went about playing with the thing exactly as Ric had showed him. It was both satisfying and disquieting. The alien intelligence of the child was obvious when one watched him like this. He didn’t have much of the clumsiness of a human toddler, nor the need to try repeatedly to master a task. Still, he was well-occupied and amused and that was the whole point of the purchase.

  Ric leaned back on his hands. “I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty.”

  Dafydd looked at him from under his lashes, expressing a coyness that went straight to Ric’s dick. “Certainly not. Anything that keeps the boy busy is fine by me. What I do mind is having a jailer again.”

  “That’s not what I am meant to be.” Ric hated the idea of Dafydd feeling caged, yet what choice did Ric have? “I’m here to help.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself?”

  Ric nearly flinched at the bitter tone. Understanding how both trauma and possible addiction worked, he kept his emotions under control. “Let me ask you a question in return. Did you ask Harry to give you a new round of pills?”

  He could see in the way Dafydd’s eyes darted away what the answer was. Before he could say more, the boat got underway with a lurch. The boys whooped or shrieked in various ways, but Dafydd swayed to one side at the sudden movement. Ric put his hand out without thinking to catch him. Dafydd jerked away from the oncoming touch and leaned against the wall.

  Ric snatched his hand back. “Sorry.” He turned his attention to Idris while Dafydd caught his breath and composed himself. The baby sat playing, unaffected by the sounds and movements around him.

  “Nothing bothers him,” Dafydd said in a slightly breathless voice. “And Harry did give me more pills. What of it? It’s my choice to take them.” He hesitated before adding, “I didn’t bring any liquor, if that’s your worry.”

  Ric switched his gaze back to him. “It is, and please don’t insult my intelligence by assuming I have forgotten MacLerie’s most excellent Scotch.” He looked pointedly at the bar in the opposite corner. “I expect there’s plenty to be found there.”

  Dafydd shrugged then stared at him in silence. His eyes held defiance, but more than that, there was a hint of fear. It made Ric’s heart ache and he didn’t want to be the cause of it. He also couldn’t live with just letting Dafydd go on doing what was so clearly dangerous for him.

  Ric sat forward and dangled his hands between his splayed knees. “Look… I’m worried about you. That’s all. No, I have to be honest here. I care about you.” Okay, so leaving out the word ‘love’ isn’t exactly being totally honest. “And I respect your autonomy to make your own decisions, to a point. That’s why I’m going to give you a choice. Either you accept my presence or I’m going to have to tell Harry about your drinking habits. He’ll take the pills away. You know he will.

  “You can take the medicine or drink, but you can’t do both. It’s practically suicidal.” He took in a deep breath and shoved it out again. “Maybe you see this as being high-handed, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. Still, that’s the deal.” He made himself look Dafydd in the eye.

  To his credit, the boy did the same back to him, unflinching and with anger shining through. “You don’t give me much choice. I don’t want all these men who have been kind to me to worry or watch me any closer than they do. So, what exactly is your bargain?”

  This was the tricky part. “I’ve given it some thought and it’s the nights that are the hardest for you, right?” When Dafydd gave a curt nod, he continued. “I simply propose that I spend those with you.”

  Dafydd barked out a laugh—a short, almost ugly sound. Idris stopped playing for a second and looked at his father before going on. “And sure you do. A nice excuse to get yourself into my bed.”

  Ric tamped down his immediate anger at the accusation, if only because it was partly true, much to his shame. “I’m going to sleep on the floor,” he ground out. “I’m only going to make sure you take the prescribed amount of pills and don’t drink. That’s all.”

  “And how long do you think you can follow me around like a puppy, making sure I’m a good boy?”

  Ric rubbed his eyes. “As long as I can, which isn’t very. I do have to get back to Boston and work, even if you all stay up there for weeks. I can drive up every night, if necessary.” If I rent a car, that is, which will put a big dent in my bank account, but fuck that. Money didn’t matter when it came to Dafydd.

  “You’re daft, mun. You can’t keep it up forever.”

  “Do I have to?” Ric leaned forward in an effort to convey the depth of his concern. “Dafydd, please let us help you. We’re not the enemy. I’m not.”

  Closing his eyes, Dafydd rocked his head back and forth. “If you think I can tell the difference, you don’t know me at all. Do as you like, then. I don’t care.”

  Well, that was a permission of sorts. Ric only hoped that he could work some kind of miracle in the next couple of days. Dafydd’s very life was on the line, and in a way, that meant his was too.

  Chapter Seven

  Stuffed from Emil’s amazing and bountiful lunch, Ric was surprised to find himself part of what he thought of as the war council. He sat with the other men around a large table on which Val had spread maps and aerial photos of the coast north of Putnam’s Cove. Dafydd was safely tucked in his stateroom, having a nap with Idris. Ric had searched the place, guiltily, for liquor, then had doled out a pill to Dafydd while taking the rest of the bottle with him. It sat snug in his front pocket, a constant reminder of how he’d dared to barge into Dafydd’s life and take control over it.

  Only in this one way and only to keep him safe.

  He figured Dafydd would never forgive him for it, but that hardly mattered. A living, healthy Dafydd who forever scorned Ric’s love was far preferable to a dead one. Ric could survive the former, whereas the latter would be a tragedy that he couldn’t recover from, not to mention the toll it would take on Idris when he got old enough to understand it all.

  “Are you sure Brenin can drive this thing?” Val asked, taking Ric out of his own head, thank God.

  “Aye, he’s a quick study and took the helm for much of our voyage over. Stick to your lane, Val, and tell us what we’re looking at.”

  The bouncer huffed before walking them through it. Ric leaned in to study what the others could more easily see with their alien eyesight.

  “This is the spot that Dracul used over a hundred years ago to run arms.” Val pointed to
a spot by the shore that was a series of jagged lines. “There’s a narrow path through the water for a shallow-draft boat to navigate. It leads into what appears to be a squat opening at the base of the cliff, but if you keep going, it opens up to a wide pool with a cave system beyond, although I don’t know the extent of it.

  “It was never good for much except the kind of arms that anarchists and the beginnings of organized crime were interested in obtaining. As far as I know, he abandoned it for more lucrative efforts abroad. In the last few decades he certainly ramped up the smuggling of higher-grade weapons to places like the Middle East. Little Putnam Cove had evolved into a tourist destination in the mid-twentieth century anyway. It’s not so quiet anymore.”

  “It’s very popular with my friends,” Ric offered. “It’s easy and quick to get to and very gay-friendly, as I mentioned before. I know it quite well, actually.”

  Alex turned his gaze on him. “We have considered that fact, Doctor, and are delighted you could join us today. Obviously, if any of us parade into town asking questions, we’ll get noticed quickly. If one of Dracul’s minions has reopened this channel for gunrunning, word of our arrival would possibly spread quickly.”

  “While no one will notice one more gay human, hanging out at bars and dishing on the local gossip,” Ric finished for him.

  “Exactly. I hope you don’t mind,” Alex added with a pointed look that nicely conveyed that they expected only one answer.

  “Not in the least. As I’ve done twice before now, I’m all in on this. It’s for my people, after all. I can’t allow aliens to wreak havoc.”

  “Maybe not,” Harry interjected. “This could be purely a human problem, and we don’t expect you to take risks.”

  “We’ll have you wired,” Val confirmed.

  “Glad to hear it.” Ric swallowed back his natural nerves. He was a doctor, not a spy, as Bones might have said on his beloved Star Trek. “What exactly am I supposed to be asking about?”