Page 26 of Hounded (Fire & Brimstone)

26

Loren

Joss Foster’s receiving line rivaled that of a wedding or, more fittingly, a funeral. By the time Indy and I made it to the front of the queue of enamored art enthusiasts, I had no strategy beyond getting within reach of my target.

I felt like we should have brought gifts or offerings. Indy’s collection of bottlecaps might have wowed the creative scavenger, but I’d come into this without preparations, so we presented ourselves empty-handed.

Sully stood to the side, occasionally beckoning a server to bring drinks or hors d’oeuvres to replenish the plate and glass on the table beside Joss. The man of the hour stunk of marijuana that failed to mask the grossly sweet odor of a tainted soul. The foul combination invaded my nostrils, and I sneezed three times in a row while Joss looked on blankly.

“Indy, right?” the artist asked once I’d recovered. He indicated Indy’s necklace. “I remember the jewelry.”

Indy nodded. “And this is Loren. He wanted to meet you, too. ”

Joss peered out through a pair of glasses studded with scraps of refuse. His gaze traveled down then up, ending on the gleam of silver where my collar showed above the unbuttoned top of my shirt.

I wasn’t sure how my victims knew what I was, but they often managed to figure it out. Maybe they could smell me, too. Or maybe Moira showed them my photo, offering full transparency in her Faustian deals. When this guy shows up, it’s time to pay the piper.

“Loren,” Joss repeated with a tremor in his voice. “Always good to meet a fan. Would you say you’re more of an art guy or an environmental advocate?”

“Neither,” I replied. “But I do know garbage when I see it.”

Beside me, Indy sputtered into his rosé.

Joss’s face paled. “Can we not do this here?” he asked, increasingly unsettled. “Please.”

I couldn’t if I wanted to, not with Indy and Sully watching. But delaying gave him a chance to run, and me the task of tracking him through the city. It was much easier to shoot fish in a barrel.

“Hey, buddy, you about done?” someone called from behind me. “Let somebody else have a turn.”

“Chill out. We just got here,” Indy retorted as I spun to see the cause of the commotion.

Judging by the flush on his face and the wine glass in his hand, the barrel-chested man currently staring Indy down had been indulging heavily in the open bar. His nostrils flared, full of hair that tangled in his bushy mustache as he fired back, “I wasn’t talking to you, faggot. ”

Indy stomped one combat boot, and his fists balled. In another life, I would have worried about him launching a fiery assault but, like I’d told Sully, this Indy was powerless, weak, and mine to protect.

My lips pulled back in a snarl as I glowered at the drunk man. “If you have a problem with my boyfriend, you can take it up with me.”

The fact that I towered a good five inches over the instigator should have been enough to cow him, but he’d had more than his share of liquid courage, and he rose unsteadily to the challenge.

“ Another cocksucker?” He scoffed. “You don’t scare me.” Taking one shambling step, he thrust his wine glass at Indy. “Hold this.”

Rather than passing the drink, the drunkard tipped his glass sideways, splashing rich red wine onto Indy’s shirt, jacket, and skirt. It dripped down Indy’s bare stomach and puddled on the floor between his feet. The empty glass toppled after it, shattering on the ground with a loud pop.

Somewhere in the background, Sully called for security. She might have said my name, too, knowing what was coming before I did. I lunged at the man, grabbing his suit coat lapel with one hand and bringing my other fist forward and down in a haymaker punch. My knuckles cracked against his teeth, and his head rocked backward, slinging bloody drool through the air, then his body went limp. I dropped him in a heap.

On my left, Indy gaped at the unconscious man, then at me testing my fingers while pain pulsed from my knuckles. I would have hit the bastard again if he had stayed upright long enough. As it was, a single punch would have to do.

Sully shouted again, and two uniformed officers rushed to the scene. I stepped back, and Indy inserted himself between them and me.

“It wasn’t his fault. He was protecting me,” he hurriedly told the guards.

One of them nodded while stooping to heave the unconscious man off the floor. “We saw the whole thing, kid. You’re good.”

Sully joined us, covering a smile with her hand as she watched the guards drag the drunkard toward the exit. “Damn, Lore. Go off, why don’t you?” She snickered, then turned to Indy. “You all right, sweetheart?”

He glanced down at the splotches of wine staining his outfit. I hadn’t noticed before, but I saw now that he was trembling. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Wish I’d brought a change of clothes, though.”

Sully offered a sympathetic smile. “My apartment’s upstairs. I’m sure I have something you can borrow.”

With the troublemaker removed, Joss’s fan club had filled the gaps in the receiving line and pushed us out into the middle of the room. I glanced back at the artist, who dodged my eyes while shaking hands with a middle-aged woman wearing a newspaper hat.

“Why don’t you take him, Lore?” Sully’s question drew my focus back to her and Indy, who was shrugging out of his denim jacket.

It seemed Joss’s request for a stay of execution had been granted. I took Indy’s coat the second he was free of it and draped it over my arm, then wrapped my other arm around his shoulders. Without a word, I ushered him toward the back of the room and the door to the stairwell.

Once we crossed the threshold, the din of the party muted. The newfound quiet helped me relax as we climbed the steps to Sully’s flat. I kept my grip on Indy, who stopped shaking by the time we reached the third-floor landing.

Passing my hand over Sully’s door prompted it to open. If Indy noticed the lack of a knob or lock, he didn’t comment. In fact, he didn’t speak at all as we entered the apartment and went straight to Sully’s bedroom.

A rug blanketed the floor around a canopy bed. Mismatched side tables held lamps tented with colorful scarves. Beneath those, a partially burned bundle of sage and rosemary lay in a metal tray along with a stack of books that had made their way in from the living area. A long dresser lined the side wall, heaped with candles, crystals, and a taxidermized crow on a perch.

Indy paused and turned in a circle to survey the wonders on display. All of Sully’s spaces were crowded, borderline cluttered, with a lifetime’s collection of bits and bobs. I wasn’t sure of her age but had determined she was younger than me but older than she looked. Magic maintained her apparent youth and added years to her lifespan.

While Indy marveled, I laid his jacket on the foot of the bed and headed toward the closet.

“You were kind of amazing back there.” He lingered at the edge of the room, stripped to the waist and using his newly removed crop top to mop the wine off his stomach.

“Lucky Sully didn’t throw me out for ruining her show,” I mumbled. “She’s been looking forward to it, for whatever reason.”

I pushed the vented bifold doors apart, revealing a wardrobe of all the skirts and tank tops Indy could dream of.

Stepping out of his boots, he padded over to peer at the rack of clothing. “You didn’t ruin anything.” He glanced at me. “Is your hand okay?

I shrugged. The pain had been fleeting and was gone long before we made it upstairs.

Indy dug into the clothes in earnest, and I took a seat on the edge of Sully’s bed. The top cover was an old quilt that I absently brushed my fingers across. The textures of the various fabrics and the pattern of the top stitching engaged my interest while Indy rifled the wardrobe. My sister had a quilt like this. She made it with our mother from scraps of outgrown clothing and flour sacks. They wrapped her in it when she died, something soft to cushion her final rest.

Indy paused his search and rotated to face me. “You called me your boyfriend,” he said.

I pinched a square of tufted chenille between my thumb and forefinger and rolled it back and forth.

“Was that…” His forehead creased. “Something else you shouldn’t have said?”

The weight of his question sank in my gut as I looked at him. Concern overlaid his button nose and long-lashed eyes, and I remembered the way he’d smiled while talking to Evander. The way he sometimes smiled at me.

“Did it bother you?” I asked.

He hacked an awkward cough before reaching into the closet once more. “It definitely didn’t bother me.” He pulled out a crocheted shirt and held it out for inspection. “I think I’m confused.”

“About what?”

“Everything.” When he laughed, it seemed strained. Possibly pained, and I frowned.

He glanced over again, his expression uncertain. “I really like you, Loren,” he said, then added emphatically, “ Really .”

I held his gaze, knowing fully well he wanted more from me but finding myself unable to give it. It was all I could do to drive my voice above a whisper as I replied, “I like you, too, Indy.”

The confession was enough to satisfy him, and he shimmied out of his tulle skirt, leaving himself bare-bodied except for the pair of lace panties the same hot pink as his eyeshadow. The gemstone in his belly button ring sparkled as he struck a pose, holding a pair of gray harem pants along with the cream crocheted shirt in front of his chest.

“What about the outfit? Do we like this?” he asked with teasing emphasis.

My lips quirked. “It’s cute.”

You’re cute , I mused. Like a doll. I’d called him that for decades, since the first time I’d caught him playing dress up in our apartment. He’d looked so pretty in that dress, so delicate and fragile. Always a precious thing to me.

Indy pulled the top over his head and arms, then stepped into the pants. They hung loose around his legs and cuffed at his ankles, and he smoothed his hands down the sides of them three times before frowning dissatisfaction. He stripped out of them with ease and tossed them onto the mattress beside me, then spun toward the closet to resume his search.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled in the recesses of the wardrobe. “‘Boyfriend’ is kind of a loaded term, don’t you think?” He hung his head out long enough to check my expression, and I hoped he didn’t notice my gaze wandering up his bare legs toward those lower back dimples I liked so much.

“The guy was being an ass,” I replied. “I wanted him to know you were with me. Make him regret giving you a hard time.”

Indy paused with a dip-dyed skirt tucked under his arm. His lips twisted. “I’m not with you, though.”

The pain was back. I felt it, too. He may have had a vague sense of longing, but mine was terribly specific. I wanted a connection that took years to develop. I craved intimacy I had yet to earn. It would take work in this lifetime, and the next, and the next… and I was so tired.

“But maybe I could leave with you,” Indy said in a softer voice, almost sultry.

For once, my answer came before thought. “Sure.”

Indy’s face paled. “Seriously?” I watched him without replying until he pressed, “You know what I mean, right? Like, not just a ride home…”

Standing, I pulled my truck keys from my pocket. “I know what you mean.”

Without further confirmation, Indy shook out the skirt and wrapped it around his waist, then tied it so quickly it was a miracle it held. Darting across the room, he almost tripped over his combat boots in his haste to pull them on.

I came over and took his arm to hold him steady while he fumbled with his bootlaces. He looked at my hand supporting him, then blushed his way through the double knot.

Straightening, he pushed the spill of blue-green curls off his forehead. “So, um… my place or yours?”

“Yours,” I answered. “Mine’s pretty cramped.”

Considering the front seat of the Chevy was my entire living space, that was a massive understatement. We could make it work, though. Had before, but our bed was a safer bet.

Dressed and ready to depart, Indy grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit. His fingers catching in mine was the most natural thing. I clung to them and squeezed as he led me out of Sully’s apartment and down the stairs at a rapid clip. We reemerged into the gallery, where the exhibition carried on in full swing.

Joss was still swarmed by his groupies, and Sully loitered at the edge of the crowd. When the stairwell door closed behind Indy and me, she perked. Indy made a beeline toward the exit, and I didn’t miss Sully’s parting wave and wide, knowing smile.

She would be insufferable now.