Текст книги "Awakened"

Автор книги: P. C. Cast

Соавторы: Kristin Cast,P. C. Cast
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Jack sounded sweet but defensive when he answered. “Aphrodite, if you’re going to say something else mean about the Ritual, then I think you should just say nothing at all. Plus, I’m not going to listen to you because I’m busy defying gravity. So there.”

“Uh, hi, Jack,” I said.

I could almost see his smile blaze through the phone. “Zoey! Hi! Oooh, it’s so cool that you’re not dead, or even dead-like. Oh, oh, did Aphrodite tell you what we’re planning for tomorrow after you get back? Ohmigoddess, it’s going to be so totally cool!”

“No, Jack. Aphrodite didn’t tell me ’cause—”

“Goodie! I get to tell you. So, we’re going to have a special Dark Daughters and Sons Ritual of Celebration, like with proper nouns and such, because you being un-shattered is a big deal.”

“Jack, I have to—”

“No, no, no, you don’t have to do anything. I have it all handled. I even have the food planned, well, with Damien’s help, of course. I mean…”

I sighed and waited for him to take a breath.

“See, told ya,” Aphrodite said under her breath while Jack gushed. “He’s going to bawl when you burst his little pink bubble.”

“… and my favorite part is when you come into the circle I’m going to be singing ‘Defying Gravity.’ You know, like Kurt did on Glee, except I’m going to actually hit that high note. So what do you think?”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I think you’re a really good friend.”

“Oooh! Thank you!”

“But let’s postpone the Ritual.”

“Postpone? How come?” His voice already sounded trembly.

“Because…” I hesitated. Crap. Aphrodite was right. He probably was going to cry.

Stark pried the phone gently from my hand and tapped the speaker button.

“Hey there, Jack,” he said.

“Hi, Stark!”

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Ohmigoddess! Of course!”

“Well, I’m still kinda out of it from the Otherworld thing and all. Aphrodite and Darius are coming back tomorrow, but Zoey is going to stay here on Skye with me while I get stronger. So could you let everyone know that we won’t be back in Tulsa for a couple more weeks or so? Just pass the word for me and smooth everything over?”

I held my breath, waiting for the tears, but instead Jack sounded totally grown and mature. “Absolutely. Don’t worry about anything, Stark. I’ll let Lenobia and Damien and everyone know. And Z, no problem. We can definitely postpone. It’ll just give me more time to practice my song and figure out how to make origami swords for decorations. I thought I’d hang them with fishing line, that see-through stuff, so it would look like, you know, they’re defying gravity.”

I smiled and mouthed thank you to Stark. “Sounds perfect, Jack. I won’t worry about a thing if I know you’re in charge of the decorations and the music.”

Jack’s happy laughter bubbled. “It’s going to be a great Ritual! You wait and see. Stark, just get well. Oh, and Aphrodite, you shouldn’t assume that I’m going to burst into tears at the first hint of a change in party plans.”

Aphrodite frowned at the phone. “How the hell did you know that’s what I assumed?”

“I’m gay. I know things.”

“Whatever. Say goodbye, Jack. My phone’s roaming,” Aphrodite said.

“Goodbye, Jack!” Jack said, giggling, while Aphrodite snatched the phone from Stark and ended the call.

“That went better than you thought it was going to go,” I said to Aphrodite.

“Yeah, ‘she’ took it well. Wonder how that other one will take it, since she’s exponentially worse than Miss Jack.”

“Look, Aphrodite, Damien isn’t a fluttery gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I really wish you’d be nicer about both of them.”

“Oh, please. I’m not talking your gays. I’m talking about Neferet.”

“Neferet!” My voice was sharp. I hated even saying her name. “What have you heard from her?”

“Nothing, and that’s exactly what I’m worried about. But, hey, Z, don’t lose any sleep over it. After all, you’re going to be here, on Skye, with a gazillion big, strong guys—and Stark—to protect you, while the rest of us mere mortals get on with the whole good versus evil, Darkness v. Light, epic battle, blah, blah, et cetera, ad nauseam.” Aphrodite turned and stomped up the front stairs of the castle.

“Aphrodite’s a mere mortal? I thought her pain-in-the-ass level was well beyond mere,” Stark said.

“I heard that!” Aphrodite called over her shoulder. “Oh, and FYI, Z, I had a luggage emergency, as in I didn’t have enough of it, so I’m confiscating that suitcase you bought the other day. I’m off to do some power packing. Later, peasants.” She slammed the thick, wooden door to the castle, which really took some doing.

“She’s magnificent,” Darius said, smiling proudly as he vaulted the steps and followed Aphrodite.

“I can think of a lot of m words that she could be. Magnificent isn’t one of them,” Stark grumbled.

“Mental and mean pop into my head,” I said.

“Manure pops into mine,” Stark said.

“Manure?”

“I think she’s full of shit, but it’s too many words and doesn’t start with an m, so that’s as close as I could get,” he said.

“Heehees,” I said. Then I linked my arm with his. “You’re just trying to distract me from the Neferet stuff, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Not really.”

Stark’s arm slid around me. “Then I’ll have to work on my distraction skills.”

Arm in arm, we walked to the castle entrance. I let Stark amuse me with his list of m words that fit Aphrodite better than magnificent, and tried to regain the sense of contented happiness I’d felt so recently and so briefly. I kept telling myself that Neferet was a world away—and the adults of that world could handle her. As Stark opened the castle door for me, something pulled my vision upward and my eyes caught on the flag that waved proudly over Sgiach’s domain. I paused, appreciating the beauty of the powerful black bull with the shape of the glittering Goddess within his body. Just then, a trail of mist lifted from the waters that flanked the castle, altering my sight of the flag and changing the black bull to ghostly white as it blanked out the Goddess image completely.

Fear skittered through my body.

“What is it?” Instantly alert, Stark moved to my side.

I blinked. The fog dissipated and the flag shifted back into its proper form.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just me being paranoid.”

“Hey, I’m right here. You don’t have to be paranoid; you don’t have to worry. I can protect you.”

Stark took me into his arms and held me tightly, blocking the outside world and what my gut was trying to tell me.

CHAPTER FIVE

Stevie Rae

“You ain’t yourself. You know that?”

Stevie Rae looked up at Kramisha. “All I’m doin’ is just sittin’ here, minding my own business.” She paused, letting the unlike you implication sink in. “How is that not being myself?”

“You picked the darkest, creepiest corner stuck all over here. You blew them candles out so it’d be even darker. And you sitting here moping so loud I can almost hear your thoughts.”

“You can’t hear my thoughts.”

The hard edge to Stevie Rae’s voice had Kramisha’s eyes widening. “ ’Course I can’t. They’s no need for you to get all huffy. I said almost. I ain’t Sookie Stackhouse. Plus, even if I was I wouldn’t listen in to your thoughts. That’d be rude and my mama raised me better than that.” Kramisha sat next to Stevie Rae on the little wooden bench. “Speaking of—am I the only one who thinks that werewolf is hotter than Bill and Eric put together?”

“Kramisha, do not mess up season three of True Blood for me. I haven’t finished my DVDs of season two.”

“Well, I’m just sayin’, prepare for some serious four-footed hotness.”

“Seriously. Don’t you dare tell me anything else.”

“Okay—okay, but the whole wolf-monster-hotness-guy thing is somethin’ I need to talk to you ’bout.”

“This bench is made of wood. Wood equals earth. Which means I can probably figure out a way to make it smack the living crap right outta you if you mess up True Blood for me.”

“Would you please relax? I’m already offa that. I got somethin’ else we gotta discuss before we go into what I know is gonna be one majorly boring Council Meeting.”

“It’s part of what we gotta do. I’m a High Priestess. You’re a Poet Laureate. We have to go to the Council Meetings.” Stevie Rae let out a long puff of air and felt her shoulders slump. “Dang, I’ll be glad when Z gets back here tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. What I don’t get is what’s got you so messed up in the head you seem turned inside out.”

“My boyfriend has lost his dang mind and disappeared off the face of the earth. My best friend almost died in the Otherworld. The red fledglings—the other ones—are still out there somewhere doin’ Bubba-knows-what, which I’m pretty sure means eating people. And to top it all off I’m supposed to be a High Priestess, even though I’m not even sure what all that means. I think that’s enough to mess up anyone’s head.”

“Yeah, it is. But it ain’t enough to keep givin’ me weird-assed poems that all have the same freaky theme. They about you and beasts, and I want to know why.”

“Kramisha, I do not know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

Stevie Rae started to stand up, but Kramisha reached into her huge bag and pulled out a piece of violet-colored paper that had her bold writing scrawled across it. With another heavy exhale of breath, Stevie Rae sat down and held out her hand.

“Fine. Let me see.”

“I wrote ’em both on this paper. The old one and the new one. Somethin’ told me you might need your memory refreshed.”

Stevie Rae didn’t say anything. Her eyes went to the first poem on the paper. She took her time reading it. Not because she needed her memory refreshed. She didn’t. Every line of the poem had been burned into her mind.

The Red One steps into the Light

girded loins for her part in

the apocalyptic fight.

Darkness hides in different forms

See beyond shape, color, lies

and emotional storms.

Ally with him; pay with your heart

though trust cannot be given

unless the Darkness you part.

See with the soul and not your eyes

because to dance with beasts you

must penetrate their disguise.

Stevie Rae told herself she wouldn’t cry, but her heart felt bruised and broken. The poem had been right. She’d seen Rephaim with her soul, not with her eyes. She’d parted Darkness and trusted and accepted him—and because of that, because she’d allied herself with a beast, she had paid with her heart. She was still paying with her heart.

Reluctantly, Stevie Rae looked to the second poem on the page—the new one. Reminding herself not to react, not to let her face give away anything, she started reading:

Beasts can be beautiful

Dreams become desires

Reality changes with reason

Trust your truth

Man … monster … mystery … magick

Hear with your heart

See without scorn

Love will not lose

Trust his truth

His promise is proof

The test is time

Faith frees

If there is courage to change.

Stevie Rae’s mouth felt dry. “Sorry, I can’t help you. I don’t know what these things are about.” She tried to hand the piece of paper back to Kramisha, but the poet’s hands were folded across her chest.

“You ain’t a good liar, Stevie Rae.”

“It’s not smart to call your High Priestess a liar.” There was an edge of meanness to Stevie Rae’s voice that had Kramisha shaking her head.

“What’s happenin’ to you? You dealing with somethin’ that’s eatin’ you from the inside out. If you was yourself, you’d be talkin’ to me. You’d be trying to figure this out.”

“I can’t figure out this poetry stuff! It’s metaphor and symbolism and weird, confusing predictions.”

“That’s a damn lie,” Kramisha said. “We been figuring this stuff out. Zoey has. You and I did, or at least we did enough to get word to Z in the Otherworld. And it helped. Stark said it did.” Kramisha pointed at the first poem. “Some of this one came true. You met the beasts. Those bulls. You been different ever since. Now I been given another one of them beast poems. I know they for you. And I know you know more than you sayin’.”

“Look, stay outta my business, Kramisha.” Stevie Rae stood up, stepped out of the alcove, and as she walked right into Dragon Lankford she yelled back at Kramisha, “I’m done talking ’bout this beast stuff!”

“Hey, whoa, what’s this about?” Dragon’s strong hand steadied Stevie Rae when she stumbled because of their collision. “Did you say beast stuff?”

“She did.” Kramisha pointed at the notebook page in Stevie Rae’s hand. “Two poems come to me, one the day Stevie Rae tangled with them bulls, and the second just a little while ago. She don’t want to pay them no mind.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to pay them any mind. I just want to take care of my own business my own self without every dang body in the universe nosing around.”

“Do you consider me every dang body?” Dragon asked.

Stevie Rae forced herself to meet his gaze. “No, ’course not.”

“And you are in agreement with me that Kramisha’s poems are important.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you can’t just ignore them.” Dragon rested his hand on Stevie Rae’s shoulder. “I know how it feels to want to keep your life private, but you’ve stepped into a position where there are more important things than your privacy.”

“I know that, but I can deal with this myself.”

“You didn’t deal with the bulls,” Kramisha said. “They still happened.”

“They’re gone, aren’t they? So I did deal with them just fine.”

“I remember seeing you after your battle with the bull. You were gravely injured. Had you understood Kramisha’s warning the cost to you might not have been so great. And then there is the fact that a Raven Mocker appeared, and he might even be the creature Rephaim. That monster is still out there somewhere and a danger to all of us. So, you must understand, young priestess, that a forewarning meant for you cannot be kept private because it touches the lives of others.”

Stevie Rae stared into Dragon’s eyes. His words were strong. His tone was kind. But was that suspicion and anger she saw in his expression, or was it just the grief that had been shadowing him since the death of his wife?

While she hesitated, Dragon continued, “A beast killed Anastasia. We cannot allow any other innocent to be touched by these creatures of Darkness if we can prevent it. You know I speak truth, Stevie Rae.”

“I-I know,” she stuttered, trying to order her words. Rephaim killed Anastasia the night Darius shot him from the sky. No one will ever forget that—I can never forget that, especially now that things have changed. It’s been weeks and I haven’t seen him. At all. Our Imprint is still there. I can feel it, but I haven’t felt anything from him.

And that lack of feeling made the decision for Stevie Rae. “Okay, you’re right. I need help with this.” Maybe this is the way it was meant to be, she thought as she handed Dragon the poems. Maybe Dragon will discover my secret, and when he does it will all be destroyed: Rephaim, our Imprint, and my heart. But at least it’ll be over.

As Dragon read the poetry Stevie Rae watched his expression get darker. When he finally looked from the page and into her eyes, there was no mistaking his worry.

“The second bull you conjured, the black one that vanquished the evil bull, what type of connection did you have with him?”

Stevie Rae tried not to show how relieved she was that Dragon was focusing on the bulls and not questioning her about Rephaim.

“I don’t know if you could really call it a connection, but I thought he was beautiful. He was black, but there was no Darkness about him. He was incredible—like the night sky, or the earth.”

“The earth…” Dragon seemed to be thinking aloud. “If the bull reminds you of your element, perhaps that is enough for the two of you to remain connected.”

“But we know he’s good,” Kramisha said. “They’s no mystery ’bout that. The poems can’t be talkin’ ’bout him.”

“So?” Stevie Rae couldn’t hide her irritation. Kramisha was like a dang dog with a soup bone. She just wouldn’t leave it alone.

“So, the poem, ’specially the last one, is all about trusting the truth. We already know he’s good. You can trust the black bull. Why do you need a poem to tell you that?”

“Kramisha, like I tried to tell you before, I do not know.”

“I just don’t think they’s talkin’ ’bout the black bull,” Kramisha said.

“What else could they be talkin’ about? I don’t know any other beasts.” Stevie Rae said the words fast, as if speed could take away the lie.

“You said Dallas has an unusual new affinity, and that he has seemed to go mad. Is that correct?” Dragon asked.

“Yeah, basically,” Stevie Rae said.

“The beast reference could be symbolic of Dallas. The poem might mean that you need to trust the humanity that is still within him,” Dragon said.

“I don’t know about that,” Stevie Rae said. “He was one hot mess and super crazy last time I saw him. I mean he was saying some seriously weird stuff about that Raven Mocker he saw.”

“Council Meeting is being called to session!” Lenobia’s voice drifted down the hallway from the open door to the Council Chamber.

“Do you mind if I keep this?” Dragon lifted the piece of paper as they started down the hall. “I’ll copy it, and then return it to you, but I’d like a chance to study and consider the poetry more thoroughly.”

“Yeah, that’s okay with me,” Stevie Rae said.

“Well, I’m glad we got your brain workin’ on this, Dragon,” Kramisha said.

“Me, too,” Stevie Rae said, trying to sound like she was telling the truth.

Dragon paused. “I won’t share this with everybody, only those vampyres I believe could help us understand the poetry’s meaning. I understand your wish for privacy.”

“I’ll tell Zoey about it as soon as she gets back tomorrow,” Stevie Rae said.

Dragon frowned. “I do think you should share the poetry with Zoey, but sadly, she will not be returning to the House of Night tomorrow.”

“What? Why not?”

“Apparently Stark isn’t well enough to travel, so Sgiach has given them permission to remain on Skye indefinitely.”

“Did Zoey tell you that?” Stevie Rae couldn’t believe her BFF had called Dragon and not her. What was Z thinking?

“No, she and Stark spoke with Jack.”

“Oh, the Celebration Ritual.” Stevie Rae nodded in understanding. Z hadn’t been keeping anything from her. Jack had been uber-exuberant about the Ritual he’d appointed himself in charge of music, food, and decorations for—he’d probably called her with an entire list of questions like: What’s your favorite color? and Doritos or Ruffles?

“Gay boy is majorly obsessed. I bet he lost his damn mind when he found out Z ain’t comin’ home tomorrow.”

“Actually, he’s using the extra time to keep practicing that song he wants to sing, and he’s decorating,” Dragon said.

“Goddess help us,” Kramisha said. “If he tries to hang rainbows and unicorns everywhere and make all of us wear them feather boas—again—I’m just gonna say ‘ah hell no.’ ”

“Origami swords,” Dragon said.

“Excuse me?” Stevie Rae was sure she couldn’t have heard him right.

Dragon chuckled. “Jack came by the Field House and borrowed a claymore so he could have a real example to work from. In honor of Stark, he’s going to use origami swords hung with fishing line. He said they’ll look like the song.”

“ ’Cause they’ll be defying gravity.” Stevie Rae couldn’t help giggling. She did heart her some Jack. He was just too cute for words.

“I hope he don’t do them in pink paper. That just ain’t right.”

They’d reached the door to the Council Chamber, and before they entered the already full room, Stevie Rae heard Dragon say, “Not pink. Purple. I saw him carrying a ream of purple paper.”

Stevie Rae was still grinning when Lenobia called the Council Meeting to order. In the days that followed, she would remember her grin and wish she could hold on to the image of Jack making purple swords out of paper and singing “Defying Gravity,” eternally looking on the bright side of life, eternally sweet, eternally happy, and, most important, eternally safe.

CHAPTER SIX

Jack

“Duch, what is it, beautiful girl? Why are you acting so psycho today?” Jack pulled the pile of purple origami papers from under the blond Lab and put them up out of dog-butt reach on the wooden stool he was using as an outside table and sword stand. The big dog huffed, thumped her tail on the ground, and scooted closer to Jack. He sighed and gave her a loving but exasperated look. “You don’t have to be attached to my side. Everything’s fine. I’m just decorating.”

“She is being more than a little codependent today,” Damien said, folding his legs and sitting on the grass beside Jack.

Jack stopped working on the paper sword he’d been folding into shape and stroked Duchess’s soft head. “Do you think she can sense that S-T-A-R-K is still not feeling one hundred percent? Do you think she knows he’s not coming back tomorrow?”

“Well, maybe. She is extraordinarily intelligent, but my guess is she’s more worried about you climbing up there than Stark being tired and tardy.”

Jack fluttered his fingers at the eight-foot ladder that sat open and ready not far from them. “Oh, there’s nothing for Duch or you to be worried about. That ladder is perfectly safe. It even has an extra hold-it-open latch that makes it totally steady.”

“I don’t know. It’s awful high up there.” Damien gave the top rungs of the ladder a wary look.

“Nah, it’s not so bad. Plus, it’s not like I’m climbing up to the top—or at least not much. This poor tree has limbs that are hangy-downy now. You know, ever since he burst up from under it.” Jack said the last sentence in a stage whisper.

Damien cleared his throat and gave the big oak they were sitting under the same wary glance he’d shot the ladder. “Okay, don’t get mad, but I really need to talk to you about choosing this particular spot for Zoey’s Celebration Ritual.”

Jack held up his hand, palm out, in the universal stop signal. “I already know people are going to have issues with this location. I’ve just decided that my reasons for it are better than the reasons against it.”

“Honey, you always have the best intentions,” Damien took Jack’s hand and held it in both of his. “But I think this time you need to consider that you might be the only one who can see anything positive about this place. Professor Nolan and Loren Blake were killed here. Kalona escaped from the earth, ripped open the ground, and split the tree right here. It just doesn’t feel very celebratory to me.”

Jack’s free hand covered Damien’s. “This is a place of power, right?”

“Correct,” Damien said.

“And power isn’t negative or positive in its unused form. It only takes on those characteristics when outside forces take over and influence it. Right?”

Damien paused, considered, and then reluctantly nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re correct again.”

“Well, I feel that the power in this place—this shattered tree and the area here by the east wall—has been misused. It needs a chance to be used for Light and goodness again. I want to give it that chance; I have to. Something inside me is telling me that I need to be here, getting Zoey’s Celebration Ritual ready for her return, even if she and Stark are going to be late.”

Damien sighed. “You know I wouldn’t ever ask you to discount your feelings.”

“So you’ll support me in this? Even when everyone is saying your boyfriend is super crazy?”

Damien smiled at him. “Everyone isn’t saying you’re super crazy. They’re saying your zealous need to decorate and organize has tainted your judgment.”

Jack giggled. “I’ll bet they didn’t say zealous or tainted.”

“Their words were synonymous, if inferior.”

“That’s my Damien—the wordsmith!”

“And that’s my Jack—the optimist.” Damien leaned into Jack and kissed him gently on the lips. “You do what you need to do here. I know Zoey will be appreciative, when she finally gets home.” He paused, smiled sadly into Jack’s trusting eyes, and added, “Honey, you do understand that Zoey might not be coming back for quite a while? I know what Stark said to you, and I haven’t talked to Z herself yet, but Aphrodite says Zoey isn’t herself—that she isn’t really staying on Skye because of Stark. She’s staying there because she’s withdrawn from the world.”

“I just don’t believe that, Damien,” Jack said firmly.

“I don’t want to believe it, either, but the facts are that Zoey isn’t coming back with Aphrodite and Darius, and she really isn’t talking to anyone about when she is returning. Then there’s the whole Heath issue. Zoey comes back to Tulsa, and you know she’s going to have to face the fact that Heath isn’t here—that he’ll never be here again.”

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Jack said.

Their eyes met in perfect understanding. “Losing someone you love that much would be awful. It has to have changed Zoey.”

“Of course it has, but she’s still our Z. I have a strong feeling that she’s going to be home sooner than you think,” Jack said.

Damien sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

“Hey, even you admit that I’m right a bunch. I’ll be right about Zoey coming back soon, too. I just know it.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to believe you, mostly because I love your positive attitude.”

Jack grinned and gave him a quick kiss. “Thank you!”

“Well, whether Z comes back in a week or a month, I’m still not sure it’s a one-hundred-percent good idea for you to hang paper swords outside from a tree when you don’t know when you’re going to need those decorations. What if it rains tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’m not going to put them all up, silly! I’m just doing a test run on a few of them to be sure I have the folds perfect so they’ll hang right.”

“Is that why you have the claymore here? It looks awfully sharp and, well, exposed leaning against the table like that. Shouldn’t the pointed end be down?”

Jack’s gaze followed Damien’s over to where the long silver sword rested, hilt down on the ground, blade up and shining in the flickering gaslights that illuminated the school at night.

“Well, Dragon gave me strict instructions, which I mostly listened to even though I kept being distracted by how sad he looked. You know, I don’t think he’s doing very well.” Jack said the last part of the sentence in a hushed voice as if he didn’t want Duchess to overhear him.

Damien sighed and threaded his hand with Jack’s. “I don’t think he’s doing very well, either.”

“Yeah, he was telling me stuff about not sticking the pointy part of the sword into the ground ’cause it’d make it dull or something, and all I could think about was how dark the circles were under his eyes,” Jack said.

“Honey, I don’t think he’s been sleeping,” Damien said sadly.

“I shouldn’t have bothered him about borrowing a sword, but I wanted to use a real example to create origami from and not just a picture.”

“I don’t think you were bothering Dragon. Anastasia’s death is something he’s going to have to work through. I’m sorry to say it, but there’s nothing we can or can’t do to change that. And anyway, you had an excellent idea. Your origami is looking very realistic.”

Jack wriggled with pleasure. “Oooh! Do you really think so?”

Damien put his arm around him and held him close. “Absolutely. You’re a gifted decorator, Jack.”

Jack snuggled into him. “Thank you. You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

Damien laughed. “That’s not hard to be with you. Hey, do you need some help with folding the swords?”

It was Jack’s turn to laugh. “No. You’re not even good at present wrapping, so I’m guessing origami is not one of your many talents. But I could use your help with something else.” Jack shot Duchess a pointed look, then leaned closer to Damien and whispered into his ear. “You could take Duch for a walk. She won’t leave me alone and she keeps messing up my paper.”

“Okay, no problem. I was going to go for a jog. You know what they say: a chubby gay is not a happy gay. Duch can take some laps with me. She’ll be too exhausted to obsess over you.”

“It’s so cute that you jog.”

“You don’t say that when I’m hot and sweaty afterward,” Damien said as he stood up and fished Duchess’s leash from the winter-browned grass.

“Hey, sometimes I like you hot and sweaty,” Jack said, smiling up at him.

“Then maybe I won’t take a shower afterward,” Damien said.

“Maybe that’s a really good idea,” Jack said.

“Or maybe you should take the shower with me.”

Jack’s grin widened. “Now that’s more than maybe a really good idea.”

“Tart,” Damien said, bending to kiss Jack deeply.

“Linguist,” Jack said before kissing him back.

Duchess wriggled her way between them, huffing and wagging and licking both of them.

“Oh, pretty girl! We love you, too!” Jack said, kissing Duchess on her soft muzzle.

“Come on, let’s go get some exercise so we stay properly svelte and attractive for Jack,” Damien said, pulling on the big dog’s leash. She followed him, but with obvious hesitance.

“It’s okay. He’ll bring you back soon,” Jack said.

“Yep, we’ll see Jack soon, Duch.”

“Hey,” Jack called after the two of them. “I love you two!”

Damien turned, picked up Duchess’s paw, waved it at Jack, and yelled, “We love you, too!” Then they jogged away, Duchess barking excitedly as Damien pretended to chase her.

Jack watched them go. “They’re the best, ever,” he said softly.

The sword he’d just put the final fold on was the last of the five he’d made. One for each of the elements, Jack told himself. I’ll hang these five and let them be the testers.

As he cut the fishing line and threaded it through the last of the five, Jack’s eyes kept going upward, seeking the right spots from which to hang the decorations. But he didn’t need to look long. The tree seemed to be showing him where he needed to go. The thick trunk had been split almost in two, causing the sides of the massive old oak to tilt so that the thick branches leaned precariously close to the ground. Where before Kalona had escaped from the earth, the lowest branches couldn’t have been reached with a twenty-foot ladder, now his eight-foot ladder gave Jack more than enough height.

“Up there. Right up there is where the first one should go.” Jack gazed straight up from where he’d been sitting beside the little table at one of the major limbs of the tree that hung directly above him like a sheltering arm. “It’s perfect because it’ll hang over where I made all of the swords.” Jack dragged the ladder closer to the table and held the first of the five paper swords by the long length of fishing line he’d tied to its hilt. “Oh, oopsie. Almost forgot. Gotta practice,” he said to himself, pausing to punch the controls on the portable iPhone dock he’d carried out there with the table.