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15

RAHIL

It didn’t help that Rahil had already been shaking before he found the note.

He hadn’t received that much sun, he kept telling himself, just the jog from the shed and standing in the kitchen for a few minutes before he remembered to draw the blinds. Maybe it was hitting him harder for having missed a meal recently, but he wasn’t really in pain either. So, the shaking was… dread? Fear?

When he’d pulled the little paper scrap out of the unlabeled medication bottle and seen the writing, his heart had lodged in his throat. Then, the anger came.

He’d expected terror—the knowledge that he would be dead the moment William Douglas realized he and Mercer were working together, and the instinct to flee and never look back—but what he felt strongest of all was a deep, unsettling rage at the man who’d dare hurt someone as thoughtful and cautious as Mercer, and as brave and kind as Lydia. How dare this monster threaten either of them.

Rahil didn’t want to interrupt Mercer’s emergency with this, not after how open Merc had been about his capacity towards fear, but his number was on the fridge and Rahil knew it was safest not to wait. When he didn’t receive an immediate response, he forced himself not to panic.

It occurred to him, ironically, how different this wait was from the first two times Mercer had ghosted him. He’d thought he’d felt things then, but it was nothing compared to this: the anxiety, the tension, the need . He needed Mercer to be okay. He needed Lydia to be okay. There was no way around it.

When Mercer still didn’t respond, Rahil began checking the house for open windows or obvious traps and finding—and locking—the one side window that William had clearly used to enter. Still, he felt uncomfortable hanging out in Mercer’s house. He averted his gaze from the pictures of Mercer and Lydia that were hung around the space, the little personal knickknacks and attributions of a life as a family. Merc hadn’t really invited him in, so much as simply not had the attention span to tell him to leave.

He also hadn’t had time to close up the shed.

That solidified it. Locking the back door behind him, Rahil sprinted back to the shed. He checked it over too. There was no sign of William, thankfully, and the holy silver lockbox that Mercer had moved to the benchtop was still shut tight, so he closed the door, then the window he’d been coming through for good measure. Standing in the shed’s dusky darkness, it smelled like everything he associated with Mercer: rich, dark earth and the mouthwatering aroma of baking bread. The same scent as the blood he’d never get to drink.

God, he needed to force himself to go on another random hookup. But he couldn’t even think about opening his dating app right now.

Rahil slumped against the counter, sliding slowly down to the ground. All the energy seemed to slip out of him, putting him right on the edge of something almost like sleep, without enough oomph to push him over into actual, useful slumber. He contemplated straight up calling Merc, but he was probably the last person Mercer wanted to hear from right now. Instead, he pulled up Lydia’s 52hz whale song and set it to play on repeat.

Even that wasn’t quite enough to numb the constant buzz of Rahil’s brain, but it soothed some things. He ended up scrolling through articles about the whale, finding a few sources that claimed 52hz was probably a blue whale-fin whale hybrid. Rahil could understand that—the feeling of not being entirely one thing. Not human enough to live a typical existence and not monster enough to use his vampiric aspects to better his life, not solitary enough to exist without people surrounding him and not functional enough as a member of a family or society to find true community. A father, but not. A widower, but not. Just a stagnant, cyclic outsider, calling a song no one else was able to hear.

He scrolled with a little more frustration, but his finger stopped on a paragraph at the end of the article.

— recordings of what is likely a second 52-hz whale —

A second 52hz whale.

There was, possibly, maybe, a second 52hz whale.

Oh.

Rahil closed the phone, tipped his head back, and quietly, so quietly he might as well not have existed at all, he wept.

Metal Daddy

That’s highly unfortunate

Please stay safe yourself

Kat is recovering and will come home tomorrow

It was the first time Mercer had ever texted him back. Rahil almost wanted to laugh, and not just because of what he’d impulsively set Merc’s name as in his phone earlier. Merc didn’t seem very worried, either, though he supposed that even when the man had been shaking, his voice had remained stony and his words direct. He could have been falling apart behind the stern bravado.

Rahil

Good for Kat!

I’m still in the shed, if that counts. Locked it and the house up the best I could.

Also, I’ve been poking around out of a sense of precaution (or maybe I’m just fidgety. We’ll call it precaution, though. Like how I call my stupidity bravery instead.) and I must know: What are these?

He sent a picture of the small mess of electrical and mechanical chaos sitting on a top shelf.

Metal Daddy

Caution is certainly a thing you need when you approach my storage cupboards

Those were Leah’s

If one of them murders you slowly, don’t say that I didn’t warn you

That was basically permission to touch them, which was good, because Rahil had technically already started. It was too enticing, wiring sticking out and boards set up in ways he wasn’t familiar with. He hadn’t gotten to work on anything this fun since his ex-wife had been there to help him get contract work.

Rahil wasn’t sure how he felt about poking inside Mercer’s late wife’s creations, but his fingers were antsy, and his mind needed something—anything—to focus on. He wouldn’t make any changes, and he’d put everything back before Merc returned. And if one of them did kill him, at least he wouldn’t have to face the way he was feeling about Mercer.

With an assembled collection of tools from around the shed, Rahil got to work. He quickly settled in on one specific device, for no other reason than the sticky note on it that labeled it as for Lydia . What it was meant to do for Lydia, Rahil wasn’t sure yet. At the moment, it looked a bit like a tissue-box-sized metal compartment had spilled all its wire and circuit-board guts out, along with a few compressed metal structures that resembled the trap cords when stretched out. Other than those, there was no clue as to what it was actually meant to do . Which made it all the more intriguing.

It felt like only a few minutes later when Mercer appeared at the shed’s entrance. Rahil jumped from his cross-legged position on the floor, nearly knocking apart the series of boards and wires he’d been reassembling. “Fuck—sorry.”

Mercer drew in a breath, held it for far too long, and finally strolled into the shed like he was entering a warzone. “It’s all right,” he said, softly. “I didn’t exactly tell you not to.” But then he gave a longer look at the pieces scattered around Rahil, and his stony expression widened into shock.

“I’m so sorry.” Rahil grimaced. “I was just going to peek at them, but I started to get the hang of this one and it seemed nearly complete, so I… It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“You’re finishing it?” Mercer’s gaze moved from the device spread between Rahil’s hands and lap to Rahil himself, and his jaw dropped for a moment before he said, almost fondly, “You’re smart.”

“Ah, well, not really. It probably won’t even work.”

“Don’t do that,” Merc snapped.

Rahil’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Don’t pretend like this is nothing. This, ”—he pointed to the half-assembled project—“is genius.”

“They’re certainly more complex than anything I’ve seen.” That was an understatement, with components ten years outdated made for some mysterious function that, based on Leah’s other work, Rahil doubted would be accomplished by anyone else for decades. He was pretty sure pieces of it were Merc’s handiwork too—seamless things he couldn’t quite identify the material or make of, much like the trap he’d now been caught in deliberately a dozen times or more.

“And you understood it just by looking?” Mercer asked.

“Well, I mean…” Rahil felt his breath catch in this throat. It was the way Mercer was staring at him, wide-eyed and wondering. And proud . Just like Shefali had the first fifteen years they were together. He might not have deserved it, but god did he love it, all the more because it was coming from Merc. “I guess so, yeah.” He didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t sound like he was complimenting himself. “I’m sorry if I overstepped with Lydia, by the way.”

“You saw an ordinary girl trying to find her place in the world and you made her happy. That’s not your fault.” Merc paused, then moved closer, slowly crouching down across from Rahil. “Do you remember when I was telling you about last generation fae?”

The sudden nearness of Mercer’s neck was doing things to Rahil, things completely irrelevant to their conversation, or their future, and he tried to ignore it. “Their children can have issues with their spark, yeah. And Lydia, she’s one of them?”

“Yes.” Mercer looked so defeated as he said it, not like a man going into battle, but one coming home after a lifetime of war. “We have meds for her, custom ones that took a great deal of time and research to make. They stop the worst of her symptoms, but she still struggles with sleep and pain—a lot more than I think she lets on. That’s why I didn’t want her babysitting, or working at all. If she has a bad day, or forgets her meds, or she’s in an accident and gets rushed to the hospital…” He clearly wasn’t capable of finishing that thought, so Rahil did it for him.

“You don’t want to see her hurt because of her differences,” he concluded. “I understand that.” Though he wasn’t sure whether he agreed. There were two 52-hz whales, after all. What if there were even more?

Mercer shook his head with horrified bewilderment. “The pills William used to poison Kat were Lydia’s. He saw them in the bin with my migraine meds and our over-counter pharmaceuticals—all of which would be bad for a dog—and still chose those . Maybe he was watching her and knew she relies on them, or googled the compound name to find out how rare it was, but somehow he figured out that losing those would hurt us the most. Lydia still has a smaller container in her bag, but he used most of what we had.”

“That fucking bastard.” Rahil surprised even himself with the little vampiric hiss that followed his words.

“He went after my dog,” Mercer agreed. “With my chronically ill daughter’s meds. Because I won’t make him a goshdarn weapon. A goddamn weapon.”

Rahil felt sick at the thought. “What are you going to do?”

“I could call the cops,” Mercer said, but he sounded strained, like just the idea was killing him.

“Would you tell them a man is trying to threaten you into making a metal only the fae can?”

Merc rubbed the front of his forehead, dragging his fingers down the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. I don’t know .” He made a pained noise.

“What about… leaving?” Rahil suggested. And while everything in him clenched up, warning him that it was too much, that he was no more fit for this than his crumbling home, he added, “I’d offer you my place, if you have nowhere else?”

“All my work is here.” Mercer sighed. “I’d send Lydia with you, if she hadn’t been biking there already. Who knows if William has been following her when she’s out. I’ll see if an old school friend can take her, and then I’ll, I don’t know, figure something out.” Merc did a thing between a nod and a head shake as he said it, his somber expression impossible to tell whether it was a mask or not. He stared at the technology in Rahil’s hands, before adding, “You said you were finishing that?”

“Attempting, yes.”

“What if we don’t need to leave, or to involve the police?” Mercer suggested. “The shed trap isn’t enough to protect my entire home—Leah hadn’t finished the updated models she was working on for the house when she passed—but one of these projects was meant to be for Lydia, for her to carry, like a security—”

“Yes,” Rahil interrupted. This was better than bringing Merc back to his home anyway—this was a way he could help without it being too personal. Too emotional. And Leah had done most of the work already. Rahil could finish that up, Merc and Lydia would be safe, and then—then—well. “I can do that. I might need a few more pieces, some trial and error. It’ll take time.”

Mercer nodded, looking more and more reassured. “Making holy silver takes time too, so far as William Douglas knows. If I tell him I’m working on it, maybe that will satisfy him long enough that you can finish.” He cringed. “I’ve already dragged you into one thing, and now I’m putting something else on you, too. Would it help if I paid you?”

“Please don’t. I’m helping because I care—about Lydia. She’s a good kid, and if something I can do will protect her, then I’m happy for it. And I get to watch your buff body at work a little longer?” Rahil winked. “I care about that too.”

Merc snorted, but the edge of his lips quirked. “If you’re sure.”

He was so close—close enough that if Rahil wanted to, he could stretch out his foot and rub it along the inside of Mercer’s thigh, or lean in and press lips to his pulse; if he’d be allowed to. They had been this near before, of course, but always in motion. Always with a purpose. And never when Rahil was this hungry. The thoughtful silence they were lingering in gave far too much room for Rahil’s focus to latch onto the man in front of him, the rich, delicious smell that filled every space he walked into, the curvature of his insulated muscles, the pulse of blood through his neck and the shine of sweat from the blistering summer heat. Before he could stop himself, Rahil whispered. “There is one thing you could do for me.”

To his surprise, Merc simply lifted an eyebrow. “Say it.”

Rahil wanted to stare into Mercer for this, wanted to hold his gaze so firmly that the man could see the sheer depth of his craving, but he couldn’t bear to even look, knowing fully well that his desire wouldn’t be reflected back. His attention shifted to Mercer’s feet instead. He pushed a hand uselessly through his hair with a chuckle. “I know you didn’t want this, but if you could spare me a little blood, just a couple times a week, until we’re done…”

“Let me think about it. I’m not saying no, I just—”

“I get it. Your wife passed from something that involved a bite, and I’m just a stranger with no business putting you in my mouth—”

“Stop.” Mercer held up a hand, and for an instant, Rahil thought maybe he’d just dug his own grave, until Merc’s expression softened. “First, your flirting is getting even worse. You should quit while you’re ahead. But you’re not a stranger to me, Rahil. If I were going to let anyone bite me, it would be you. I truly am not saying no. I just need to think about it.”

“Oh,” Rahil said, because it was the only thing his brain seemed capable of. Not saying no . “All right,” he managed, throwing on a smile. He hoped he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. “Thank you for considering it.”

“Thank you for being here.” Mercer smiled, small and strained but undeniably genuine. “You’re a good person—a good friend, and good for Lydia, too. I hope you know that.”

Like daughter, like father—Rahil could see the resemblance so strongly now; he didn’t know how he’d ever missed it. They were both detached from the outside but rattling with emotion underneath and ferocious when they believed in someone.

And somehow, they’d both made the mistake of believing in him .