Page 10

Chapter 10

Nathan

Nathan had completely forgotten about his plan to meet Storm at the hospital until he was getting in the car and thinking ahead to the meeting with the coroner. His thoughts had ground to a screeching halt when he was backing out of his driveway and realized that he couldn’t put Storm from his mind and focus on the mission, because Storm was a part of his mission that morning.

He’d considered calling Ira again to beg for a different demon. But he’d already embarrassed himself to the prophet enough for one day. He could suck it up long enough to get the job done and then wipe his hands of Storm and his strange allure.

They fell into step together through the automatic glass doors and into the sprawling entrance of the hospital. Nathan walked right past the registration desk and the bustling lobby to a set of four elevators waiting in a row, their silver doors gleaming. He hit one of the buttons pointing down, noticing as he stepped back that Storm was eyeing him curiously.

“I’ve met with the doctor in this lab before, so just let me do the talking,” he said stiffly.

“Whatever you say, Cap .”

Nathan glared at Storm’s cheerful grin. He ignored the brief flare of disappointment he felt when Storm didn’t call him ‘sunshine.’ It would be a good thing if he abandoned that distracting nickname. He wanted distance from last night. He should be glad Storm was giving it to him by agreeing to be professional here.

It was his own damn fault he wanted to lean in and lay his head on Storm’s strong shoulder. He’d just have to learn to ignore these feelings.

The elevator doors opened with a pleasant ding , and Nathan realized he’d been staring. Storm’s crimson eyes were soft, like he was already imagining Nathan in his arms.

“Just come on,” he said wearily, trudging inside. He was frustrated with Storm, frustrated with himself. Why couldn’t things just be easy? He was trying to do the right thing by brokering this truce. Why did it feel like he was being punished?

He didn’t glance over, but his body warmed with awareness as Storm stepped in beside him. The elevator wasn’t big enough for both of them. Or Storm was just big . If he punched the button a little harder than necessary, that was the button’s problem.

“You’re angry,” Storm said quietly.

He blew out a breath. “No.” It sounded plaintive to his own ears.

Silence followed, and when he dared to glance over, he found Storm studying him doubtfully.

Yeah, okay, maybe he was a little angry, but he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to care at all, but he did . Last night had been incredible, and this morning was a gut punch for multiple reasons. He’d woken alone and spiraled all morning about what it meant and whether he wanted it to mean anything at all. The truth was, he did want it to mean something. Otherwise, he’d endangered everything for nothing. But it couldn’t mean anything, because it would endanger everything . And around and around he went.

Their shoulders brushed, and Nathan held his breath. He released it only when the door opened with another cheerful sound, rushing from the claustrophobic space and out into the narrow hallway. This area of the hospital wasn’t as open and friendly as the upper levels, because very few patients found their way down here. Nathan trekked the familiar path through the maze-like, painted brick halls to a familiar office. The door was open, with a nameplate that read Doctor Glinda Taylor, M.D.

Nathan knocked on the open door.

The woman behind the desk was short and matronly, with silver hair tied up in a neat bun. Her computer screen reflected in her large glasses, and she smiled weakly when she saw Nathan.

“Ah, Mister Accardi. I was told I could expect one of you today.”

“It’s good to see you, Glinda. How’s the family?”

The smile was more genuine this time. “They’re good. My daughter’s pregnant with her second.” She puffed up with pride.

Nathan gasped gleefully. “No, is she really? She just had the first one not long ago.”

“Almost two years ago now.”

“ What? No way. God, I’m getting old.” Two years ago, he’d come by to speak with Glinda—a long-time friend of Dr. Maxwell, who was the guild’s resident physician—about a case where a woman had been murdered by a crex demon. Glinda had spent most of that visit, when they weren’t talking about the strange claw marks on the woman’s body, talking about her daughter’s pregnancy and how excited she was to become a grandmother.

Glinda laughed brightly and stood. She was a head shorter than Nathan, dwarfed entirely by Storm, who loomed over Nathan’s shoulder. “You and me both, my friend. I take it you want to see the body?”

Right. Back to business. “Yes, if you can swing it. Do you mind if my friend joins us? He’s here for a group similar to mine.”

Glinda brightened. “Really? That’s great news. Your guild has been doing this alone for a long time. Having more fighters on the good team will probably take a load off, right? Right this way.” Nathan backed into Storm’s incredible heat to let Glinda pass, and when big fingers brushed his hip, a shiver tore down his spine.

He practically sprang away, falling into step behind Glinda before his body could get any crazy ideas about leaning into that touch.

“You’d think,” he said belatedly. Glinda knew only bare bones about what the guild really did—just enough to call them for help if she found anything strange during her own work.

“I should warn you,” Glinda said as she led them down the hall, “it’s not pretty.”

“Are dead bodies ever pretty?”

Glinda snorted. “Well, no. But some are worse than others. This one is one of the worst I’ve seen. Poor kid.”

“I saw the CCTV footage. It was rough.”

Glinda clucked her tongue. “I only saw the aftermath, but that was bad enough. They gathered what they could from the crime scene and bagged it. The bag is—well, in the boy’s chest cavity. I’ve already done the autopsy and logged everything.”

“Any strange findings?” Nathan asked as she opened a door and led them into the morgue. There was a row of mortuary cabinets on the wall, gleaming in the pale fluorescent lights. An empty metal table stood in the center of the room, and a metal grate sat grimly beneath it.

“Besides the obvious? Of course,” Glinda said, going around the exam table and to the cabinets on the far wall. “I ran a tox screen. Amphetamines and benzodiazepines were both present in his system at the time of death.”

“He was a college student, right?” Nathan asked. “Experimentation with drugs isn’t that weird. I mean, those are kind of a no-no to mix.”

“No, you’re right. That wasn’t the weirdest thing. I surveyed the contents of his stomach after the abnormal tox screen. There were traces of human bone there. And it wasn’t his own.”

Nathan’s head swirled. He shook himself. “What?”

Glinda nodded gravely. “That’s exactly what I said. What finally made me call your leader was when I found traces of sulfur mixed with the bone.”

Nathan looked at Storm, forgetting all his tangled feelings in the face of his confusion.

“Sometimes possessions can result in traces of sulfur being found in the bloodstream,” Storm said. “I’ve never heard of it being in someone’s stomach.”

“Could it have… wound up there during the death? It was rather violent.” He glanced between both Glinda and Storm.

“It was, and I considered that, but the stomach was intact,” Glinda said. “All of the trauma was located higher, in the chest cavity, but his lower abdominal organs—mostly everything below the diaphragm—were all undamaged. I found the bone and sulfur right next to what I think was a McChicken.”

Bile rose in Nathan’s throat, and he swallowed hard.

Glinda cast him a weary smile. “Sorry. Gallows humor. You’ve got to have it to survive a job like this. Shall I open it up or no? I don’t want you to hurl.”

They both looked at him , and Nathan squared his shoulders. This was his job; just because Storm was here with him this time didn’t mean he could be any less than a captain of the guild should be. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Sloan would probably take him off the case if he failed to inspect the body himself, and he didn’t want this going to anyone else.

Glinda opened the cabinet, and Nathan stepped back as she slid the body out. It was blessedly covered in a sheet, and Nathan averted his eyes as she drew it back.

“ God damn,” Storm murmured, and Nathan braced his hands on his hips, unable to bring himself to look.

He’d killed hundreds of monsters. He’d seen men and women take grievous injuries—had taken a few of his own, at that. This wasn’t his first dead body. Hell, the pentagram killer case had probably been just as gory as this boy’s death, if not more. Why was this one different from all the others?

Was it because Storm was with him this time? With his squad, he was the leader, the captain. He was in charge and expected to be the strongest and steadiest. But Storm had put a crack in his mask, and he couldn’t hide anymore. He’d been wrong-footed since last night, and what once was rote now felt brand new. He was facing the world like a raw nerve now, exposed and aching with every experience.

“Nate.” A strong hand touched his shoulder. Storm’s thumb brushed the bare skin just past his collar, and he was too weak to resist drifting a step closer. “It’s okay.”

Nathan nodded. Bracing himself, he looked at the body.

His chest cavity gaped open, and a white, plastic sack sat inside it. His spine was intact and visible. Part of Nathan wondered who the poor, unfortunate soul was who was responsible for gathering all the pieces from the scene of the… crime? It felt like a crime. An unnatural crime against humanity itself. He’d seen exorcisms of possessor demons on tape during his schooling at the guild, but he’d never seen a live one before. They weren’t supposed to be like this. They could control the host, yes, and do terrible things, but they couldn’t do this . They couldn’t punch their way out of an innocent boy. This wasn’t right.

Dried blood was dotted on the boy’s neck and face. A droplet of it had landed in the corner of his eye.

“Smells like sulfur,” Storm murmured.

Nathan couldn’t smell it, but he wasn’t a demon. Glinda glanced over at them but didn’t ask.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to make sense of anything I see here,” Nathan admitted. “I can barely tell which… chunk used to go where.” He was certain his face was an interesting shade of green right now.

“That is a dilemma,” Storm said. He cast about for something and reached for a box of latex gloves with an askance look at Glinda.

“Oh, yes, by all means,” she said. “I can remove this bag if you need.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Oh, God, Nathan thought. He didn’t want to see Storm stick his hand in there. But he was snapping on a glove, and Glinda was doing the same, removing the bag and setting it farther down, on the body’s legs.

Storm leaned closer, tugging the ribcage up and tilting his head to look underneath it. “There’s something under here. Come here and look at this, Nate.”

“Mary, mother of Christ, give me the strength not to hurl all over Storm and the body, please and thank you, amen.”

Storm shot him a sardonic look. “Hilarious.”

“I’m not joking at all.” Reluctantly, he sidled closer and peered at whatever Storm was looking at. Streaks on the underside of the bones. “Are those… claw marks?”

“Mm-hm.” Storm straightened, snapping his glove off and tossing it into the garbage can nearby. “That demon tried to claw its way out of him. I’m thinking the body died before the demon could gain a foothold. Which,” he looked dubious, “might be a good thing. It means there’s at least one way to stop the possessor from getting out. It needs a living host to escape.”

“But… why?” Nathan asked. That knowledge was useful, maybe, but he didn’t like the implication. He didn’t want to kill a human to stop a demon. That wasn’t a trade he was willing to make. The innocent life should always come first.

Storm shook his head. “I can’t say for sure. I think we should head back to the Rink. Some of the others have been around longer than me. I’d like to get their opinions first.”

“Sure, yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Maybe the fresh air would help him clear his head—and control his stomach.

Glinda cleaned up quickly, covering the body and returning it to the cabinet. They walked out together, and Nathan felt like he could breathe easier when she closed the door behind them, hiding the room from view.

“Thank you for your help, Doctor Taylor,” he said, offering his hand.

“Of course, of course,” Glinda said, shaking firmly. “I just hope you find out what happened to this poor boy and make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else. I can’t imagine what he went through in his final moments.”

Nor could Nathan.

He led Storm back to the elevator, but a piece of his mind remained behind in the morgue. Could that happen to others? Would it, if they didn’t solve this quickly enough? Or was it one overzealous possessor hungry enough for freedom that it attempted something drastic and impossible? He barely noticed Storm pressing the button for the elevator, stepping in automatically when it arrived.

His stomach roiled, and he curled his arms tightly around his middle, staring absently down at the floor. The elevator started to move—and then jolted to a stop. He raised his head to find Storm’s fingers falling away from the emergency stop button.

“What—”

“Shut up and come here. You’re pale and you need this.”

Storm didn’t give him time to form a response, pulling Nathan against him and hugging him tightly. His first instinct was to rebel, but the warm firmness of Storm’s body was too comforting to resist. He splayed his hands against Storm’s muscular back and turned his head, tucking it in the curve of Storm’s neck. He dragged the scent of tobacco and leather and soap deep into his lungs, washing away the stark memory of the body. The scent threw him right back to last night, and with his eyes closed, he could almost imagine they were back in his house.

He wouldn’t be like this with his squad. Why couldn’t he be strong with Storm? Why did he fold so easily?

“Why do you make me weak?” he asked while his face was safely hidden.

“Because I can handle being the strong one when we’re together.”

“I… I have to be strong.” It came out far whinier than he intended.

“You are.” Storm’s voice was calm and reassuring. One big hand swept up and down Nathan’s back, melting him in slow, sure strokes. “But you’re not Atlas. You can’t hold the world on your shoulders forever. Sometimes it’s okay to relieve yourself of it.”

“Is that what this is?” Was it a relief or a punishment? He couldn’t tell.

“I hope so. I want to help you carry that weight. I want you to let me.” Strong fingers carded with infinite softness through Nathan’s hair, and a warm kiss was pressed to his temple. “There’s a camera in here, so I should turn the elevator back on.”

“Right.” As though the weight on his shoulders was a physical thing, his body shook at the effort it took to pull away. He wanted to keep his gaze averted, but Storm wasn’t having it. Hands cupped his face, guiding his eyes up.

Storm smiled, pleased. “You’ve got some color back.” He reached over without looking and pushed the emergency stop. The elevator shuddered and began to rise, and Storm stroked Nathan’s cheek with his thumb all the while.

* * *

Stepping outside, the sunlight and warm breeze swept away the last remnants of the morgue below, leaving Nathan feeling somewhat lighter. He still had the complicated issue of his relationship with Storm to contend with, but that felt inconsequential after staring at the mauled body hiding below the hospital. He could still feel Storm’s arms around him, his fingers in his hair.

Nathan didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t like it. As a squad captain, he was responsible for the people in his charge. Weakness would get someone killed. It didn’t matter that they weren’t with him at the moment. He had to get it together so he could continue to be what his people needed. Letting his emotions rule him was dangerous.

He didn’t notice Storm following him until he reached his car and Storm let himself into the passenger seat.

“What—What are you doing?” he asked.

“Going with you to the Rink. I can come back for my truck later. We need to talk.”

Nathan scowled, searching for the anger he’d felt before he reached the hospital. “I don’t want to talk. I told you. Last night can’t mean anything. We had our fun?—”

“Last night wasn’t just fun .” He spat the word like it was a deeply personal insult. “Don’t mistake my leaving this morning as some sort of sign that I was done with you.”

“It doesn’t?—”

“It does matter. Don’t you fucking tell me it doesn’t. You felt it last night, too. I know you did.”

Nathan’s face was on fire. He started the car and backed out of the parking spot. If they were going to argue about this, he was going to be doing his job along the way.

“If Sloan finds out what happened, he’ll kill me. Probably literally. Don’t you understand? I’m working so hard to secure a truce between the guild and your people. If I screw this up, people could die. And if Sloan thinks I’m compromised because I had sex with you, he won’t entertain the truce anymore. I can’t let that happen. People will get hurt, and it’ll be because I wasn’t strong enough to control myself.” His grip was painfully tight on the steering wheel, but he couldn’t seem to make himself relax.

Storm sighed. “Do you really think he’s entertaining the truce anyway?”

Nathan faltered. He didn’t want to admit it, but his last interaction with Sloan had left a sour taste in his mouth. “I hope so. Even if he has an agenda of some kind, the fact that he’s letting me try means I have a chance to show him that things can be different. I need to at least try to win him over, for all our sakes. That’ll take time and careful, strategic steps. Sleeping with a halfling didn’t factor into my plans at all.”

“As I understand, it rarely does.”

Nathan’s mouth twitched against his will, and Storm’s beaming smile made him feel very much like he’d just lost this whole argument.

“You can be stubborn about it for now,” Storm agreed, if reluctantly. “But just so you know, I’m not giving up. And eventually I’ll lose my patience.” It might’ve sounded threatening to anyone else, but Nathan didn’t feel intimidated. He didn’t think that was Storm’s intention, anyway.

“What happens then?” he asked curiously.

Storm shrugged lightly. “I don’t know. Tie you up until you admit you want me, too, maybe.”

Heat licked up and down Nathan’s spine at the thought, and he was certain his face flushed. If last night was intense, how much better would it feel to be tied up, completely at Storm’s mercy?

He shook himself. “You can’t force me to do what you want me to do,” Nathan said.

“I don’t want to force you at all, sunshine, about anything. There’s a difference between forcing you to do something and getting you to admit you wanted to do it all along.” He paused, his gaze steady and confident on the side of Nathan’s face. “You want me. You just aren’t ready to admit you want me. That’s okay.”

Nathan ignored the curl of warmth at the return of the ‘sunshine’ endearment.

They drove in silence for a while after that. Driving was comfortingly familiar. The motions, the mental focus. Storm was quiet in the passenger seat, his aviators covering his eyes and the car’s visor pulled down. He shielded his eyes with his hands, also, and Nathan wondered how much the sun truly bothered him. Part of him wanted to ask, but he was afraid talking in any way would wind up making him lose more ground in this strange tug of war.

Halfway to the Rink, Storm pointed at a building on the side of the road.

“Stop there, let’s grab coffee.”

Coffee sounded great. He could use the warmth and the caffeine, but when he pulled into the parking lot, he realized there was no drive-thru window.

“No worries. I know what you like. I’ll run in and get it. You just wait here,” Storm said, so Nathan parked and let him go.

He stared despondently out the window. There was a concrete drainage ditch beyond the parking lot, protected by a rusted chain-link fence. It had rained just a few days ago, but he couldn’t see the water from here. Scraggly bushes grew on the other side of it, obscuring the next parking lot from view.

Would that he could turn his brain off for a while. Between plaintive thoughts about the unfairness of his situation with Storm, he saw the body. The dark cavity of the boy’s chest, the streaks of old blood on the plastic bag, the ashen gray color of his skin. They had to learn what had caused it. How had he become possessed? Could it happen to anyone? A shudder rolled down his spine at the thought of that happening to someone he cared about. The horror that poor kid must’ve felt just before he died, having no idea what was happening to him.

The car door opened, startling him from his miserable spiral. Coffee and leather filled the car as Storm sat down, handing him a cardboard cup. It smelled… incredible .

“What is this?” he asked, sniffing it. Sweet, creamy, and steaming hot.

“White chocolate mocha. You could use the sugar and fat. It’ll help. Just drink it.”

He’d never ordered anything like this in his life. It always seemed too self-indulgent. But Storm was right. Maybe it would help clear the cobwebs from his mind and settle his stomach.

He took a sip as he backed out of the parking spot, and it took all he had not to moan at the taste. At the risk of scalding his tongue, he took another, larger sip. The coffee cup never left his hand as he drove toward the Rink.

Maybe indulging sometimes wasn’t so bad.