Page 40

RAHIL

Rahil had not expected to spend today alone.

He tried not to wiggle from inside the massive, whirring machine that seemed to be threatening to tighten in and crush him at any moment, and awkwardly shouted over the noise, “Are we almost finished?”

“Two more minutes, Rahil,” came over the machine’s com system. The soft lilt in Dr. Clementine’s voice always made Rahil think of poshness and privilege, but he supposed when that privilege meant the vampire had an MRI machine in the personal laboratory behind his charity blood donation center, Rahil could forgive him. It helped that he was a genuinely kind person, as he promptly demonstrated with a quiet, “Please. And thank you. This will be the last set, I promise.”

Rahil swore it was approximately two hours later when he finally slipped back into his clothes, his leather pants and billowing shirt far more appropriate for their current early fall weather than it had been during the heat of late summer, if still not quite right for the century. He found Clementine in the office, examining the new piece of metal Mercer had crafted for him. Rahil had suggested they call it Righteous Titanium, to which Mercer, very seriously, said he was going to hell.

So long as that’s where Mercer was, Rahil had replied, then he’d be happy.

Right now though, the love of his life had long since abandoned the area, leaving Clementine and Rahil alone amongst the books and the overcrowded whiteboards. Rahil knew at least three of the chemical formula equations sprawled across them were for his work on Lydia’s medication, and while he still claimed to be a long way from determining exactly how to produce it with the tools and ingredients available to him, after seeing the work he’d done to slowly combat the chronic pain in his boyfriend’s life until he was—mostly—back to climbing his neighborhood’s rooftops and, weirdly, the shoulder of the statue in the micro-cemetery across the street from the blood bank, Rahil had faith that the vampire scientist would pull it off eventually.

And while they hadn’t personally seen Anthony since his pickup of the unholy gold nearly a month ago, he had recently sent a second shipment of Lydia’s medication, so they could only assume that things were as well as they could be.

Laughter spilled from down the hall, a dry cackle, then Lydia’s tell-tale snort. It was followed by a soft snicker that Rahil had come to associate with Vincent Barnes, the young vampire whose boyfriend was still all over the news as his trial was accepted and lost in the California Supreme Court, and his lawyer swore to appeal again, this time to the federal Supreme Court itself—it seemed he’d found Dr. Clementine after Clementine’s sister had taken his case, or maybe it was the other way around. Rahil fingered the ring in his pocket, but he didn’t hear Mercer’s deep voice in the mix.

Clementine finally glanced up at him, blinking a few times. “Hm? Oh, hello, come in.”

Rahil grinned. “Make any groundbreaking discoveries while I was preoccupied?”

“Just more data.” He waggled his head uncertainly. “I feel like we’re close, though…”

“But probably not so close it’ll happen tonight,” Rahil reminded him. “You should rest, kiddo.”

“I still cannot believe that you are old enough to call me that,” Clementine grumbled as he stood, rearranging the silky scarf he’d knotted loosely over his polo shirt.

Rahil patted him on the shoulder. “In forty years, you’ll look like this too, my child.”

Clementine gave him an expression so like a toddler that Rahil laughed the rest of the way out of the laboratory hallway.

In the back of the blood bank, Vincent, Justin, and Lydia all sat at a folding table playing something that looked a lot like poker, the news running aimlessly in the background. Vincent had picked through one of the fraying edges of his fingerless gloves, unraveling the material to the center of his palm, and Clementine’s boyfriend, Justin, gnawed a pencil between his teeth like it was a cigarette. Based on the chips, Lydia seemed to be winning. All three of them smiled when Rahil and Clementine appeared, Vincent’s expression timid and tired, and Justin’s sharp as a blade.

Rahil wasn’t sure about anything, but he hoped that this was what Lydia would need moving forward: a pair of mentors who’d survived the worst that life could throw at them, and found a way to thrive despite it all. However hard he and Mercer worked to give Lydia a smooth take-off into an easy life, nothing would ever be perfect, and sometimes far from it. At least she’d always have people to love her along that path though, and they’d just have to hope that it was enough.

Clementine didn’t seem to be paying attention to any of the three, his gaze fixed on the television. “Turn that up.”

Vincent glanced up at it too, and his expression paled. He visibly shrank into his seat as Justin hit the unmute button, and the announcer proclaimed, “Vitalis-Barron has just announced their new line of what they’re calling Better Than Vampirism . It includes anti-aging cream that can remove wrinkles in days, strength tablets and dexterity augmenters so potent you’ll feel super-human, and an ointment proven to increase wound healing by fivefold. Doctors are questioning the speed of the FDA approval for these groundbreaking medical achievements as the Olympic Committee are already rushing to figure out what this will mean for the future of sports…”

“Fuck,” Vincent muttered, and Rahil was pretty sure he spoke for them all.

“It’s on every news site, social media, all of it,” Mercer said, pushing past the privacy curtains from the public front of the center.

He looked no happier than the rest of them, but his somber presence was a reassurance to Rahil, somehow, his bulk a physical shield and his dedication an emotional one. He was not the only human to support the vampiric community, either. Justin had been their advocate for years, and since starting work with Dr. Clementine, Rahil had met the vampire’s unwavering sister, and the journalist who’d first broken the Vitalis-Barron story, and even met back up with the human husband of the vampires who ran the Starlight Club. For every human who was tearing vampires down to create products like Vitalis-Barron’s new line, there was another offering support. Or, more realistically, for every ten.

Despite their aid, though, there were still vampires vanishing—Justin’s own best friend had disappeared four months ago, dropping off the grid so suddenly that his little Ala Santa community feared there was only one reason for it. They were preparing a tombstone for an empty grave next week. Vampires and their humans alike had to stay vigilant. Stake out a livable ground between nihilistic terror and unrealistic positivity. There was no way to know what was to come, only do what they could in the moment.

Mercer’s hand slid into Rahil’s, tugging him back to the present as someone shut off the television. His thumb traced the fresh scar on the back of Rahil’s hand, the mirror to the three that now marked his other hand and both palms. With his vampiric healing capacity, they’d likely fade, but for now they served as a reminder that his new family had survived, and they’d keep doing so.

Rahil tried to smile at Mercer, and though it was weak, just having him there made life seem a little more hopeful.

“I think we could use something joyful after that, hmm?” Mercer asked. “How do you feel about going out with me? Tonight, I mean. As in, right now. The guys already agreed to keep an eye on Lydia for a while.”

“Is that even a question?” Rahil smiled for real this time.

“Of course not.” Mercer lowered his voice, his lips brushing Rahil’s earlobe. “You be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

The shudder that sent through him thrust everything else into the back of his mind. He grinned. “Yes, Daddy.”

The look Mercer gave him was worth more than gold, unholy or not. “See, what did I say about going to hell?”

Rahil broke into laughter, and he pulled Mercer out of the building into the pleasant early fall evening, only slowing as Mercer directed him toward the car. They drove to the sound of the radio, the windows cracked and their hands intertwined between them, and when Mercer parked at the edge of the boardwalk and tossed the blindfold at him, Rahil only grew more ecstatic.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” he asked, and nearly tripped on a step.

Mercer caught him, both arms sweeping him up until he was held bridal-style, feeling the rumble of Merc’s chuckle and the gentle shake of his head. Mercer’s feet made a hollow clunk across what had to be wood. Mixed with Mercer’s rich smell of earth and bread, Rahil could smell the musk of lake water.

Mercer descended again, giving a soft, “easy now” as he set Rahil onto… stone?

Rahil pushed back the blindfold to find the very spot beyond the boardwalk where they’d sat together the night they’d both admitted they wanted this. Now though, the water level was a little lower, a little farther away from the rains of spring, and the hard stone had been cloaked with a blanket, a scattering of electric candles on either side and a vase of metal and wood-carved flowers. Avery whistled from the boardwalk above, and Jim scolded them, shooing them along.

Mercer winced. “Sorry. I let them set it up for me. They were supposed to be subtle.”

“It’s all perfect,” Rahil reassured him. He could feel the ring in his pocket like it had a kind of magic in it, stealing his breath away and making his heart thrum, his nerves hypersensitive.

Mercer smiled. “Happy anniversary, babe.”

Rahil laughed and settled onto the blanket. He dangled his feet off the side, feeling the very tip of his shoe brush the water. “Anniversary of what?”

“You being a fool,” Mercer replied, sitting beside him.

“You’re not narrowing it down.”

“ Me being a fool?”

“Oh, yes, two months since the day we met.” Rahil smirked. “You were a fool for not kicking me right the fuck out.”

Mercer snorted. “I was a fool for not marrying you on the spot.”

All the butterflies in Rahil’s chest seemed to congregate beneath his sternum, their wings thudding in time. He leaned in. “Well, you’re going to fix that, aren’t you?”

His boyfriend leaned right back. “I’m considering it.”

Rahil’s giddiness couldn’t wait any longer. He slipped the ring out of his pocket, presenting it to Mercer delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m aware this isn’t a surprise, since you were the one who designed it, and then created most of it, but—here.”

“Well, you were the one who helped, so…” Mercer withdrew a small case from his own pocket, opening it the more traditional way, though he barely bothered to wait for Rahil to move, much less ask the question. They both had known the answer like it was signed on their soul, perhaps had known it deep down since that first swipe right.

Together, they helped each other slip the circles of metal into place—Rahil’s thin gold twining recklessly around a set of small pearls and Mercer’s thick and simple, its only ornamentation the two long fangs that Mercer had carefully removed from the mold he’d cast in Leah’s corpse. When he’d started the project, Rahil had asked, gently, whether that was healthy, but Mercer had only smiled and said it’s a piece of the only two people I’ve ever loved, in the romantic sense anyway, and the knowledge that even when they were strangers, they came together in the hopes of something good. Whatever happens, we will be good, too . And Rahil could not deny that.

Besides, he knew that both rings would attach flawlessly to the wedding additions Mercer was already working on. That would take more than two months, though. Perhaps two years, if the planning process for the week-long event went anything like it had for his last marriage—and now there was a kid’s opinion to incorporate into the mix.

“Lydia’s going to kill us if we don’t take a picture.” Rahil groaned. “So will my family, god.”

“Your family is going to kill us for not inviting them to watch us propose .”

“That’s not our fault.” Rahil pointed out, trying to mean it. He was getting better, little by little, motivated by seeing Mercer attend regular therapy appointments and slowly attempt anxiety medications. He groaned. “If they make us trade the rings again, though…”

Mercer only smiled at that, the soft quirk of his lips echoed across his face in a thousand little happy wrinkles and gentlings. He squeezed Rahil’s hand. Their rings overlapped. “I would propose to you a hundred more times, or a thousand, or ten thousand—every day until we have no more days.” As he spoke, he closed most of the space between them, his free hand gliding down the side of Rahil’s face, leaving fireworks in his wake. “My lonely whale,” he whispered.

“Not so lonely anymore.” Rahil leaned the rest of the way, and kissed him, soft, solid, perfect.

With the way time worked, it was likely that someday, one of them would be lonely again, but even with the worst that life could bring, Rahil found solace in the knowledge that through everything, they would never have to be truly alone. That was what family was for, after all.

And between the two of them, they had an entire family of 52hz whales.

At Jose’s Blood Bank, Clementine was the only one not sitting at the poker table, running back to his lab after hearing his phone ring for the fourth time. He cursed at the name on the screen.

But when he answered it, ending his opening tirade long enough for the person on the other end to speak, what he heard was so unexpected that the phone nearly slipped from his fingers.

“Hey, Clem. It’s—it’s Isaiah. I need help.”