Page 16

Chapter 16

Daytime Dating Activities

Fenric

T raveling by portal was something Fenric could get used to—he made sure his tail was all the way past the threshold and twined around Cian’s ankles, sniffing at the disturbing scents of the alley in the summer heat. Beacon Hill was a relatively clean area of Boston, expensive and full of old money, but not even Beacon Hill cared enough to clean their alleys.

He was in his smallest form, alleycat size, to blend in better with the surroundings.

“We’re in the alley behind the Salvatore house,” Cian murmured, leaning one shoulder on the brick wall of the building opposite a tall garden wall. He was glamoured to be invisible, but Fenric saw him with ease. The walled garden in the rear of the house was in front of them, the wrought-iron gate that gave access to the alley locked and warded.

“It’s quite fancy for an alley,” Fenric observed, wiping a paw over his whiskers and delicately sneezing, trying to clear his nose of the odious aromas. “You take me to all the nicest places.”

Cian chuckled. “Are you fishing for a fancy date night?”

“Have you ever been on a fancy date?” Fenric asked, curious, placing his front paws on the toe of Cian’s boot, kneading the firm leather and pricking it with his claws.

“I have not, at least not by modern definition. Seduction hardly worked on me the few times people have attempted to court me.”

“What fools.” Fenric purred, happy at that answer. “I’ll admit to satisfaction that they all failed, leaving the way clear for me.”

Cian gazed down at him, lips twitching in amusement, shaking his head. He sighed, as if Fenric was too annoying to be borne, but too precious to be set aside.

Fenric slow-blinked up at Cian, whiskers twitching. “Any assassins around?”

Cian gave him a small, wry smile and nodded once, gesturing elegantly to the upper floors of the building behind the Salvatore house. “There’s two people on the roof, and they’ve not moved since we arrived. Maybe assassins, maybe two people sunbathing.”

“Perfect. Let’s go check.”

Fenric stepped away from Cian and shook out his coat, and then stood from a crouch after transforming into his sidhe form. He wore a tight gray henley and even tighter dark denim jeans, a pair of leather boots with a low heel, and a black leather moto jacket that hugged his lean shoulders and accentuated his trim waist. He knew he looked good—Cian gazed at him in warm approval, heating his blood, and Fenric made himself pay attention to their surroundings so they didn’t get murdered while silently flirting.

Cian

Following Fenric to the fire escape that clung to the rear of the building, Cian had a fabulous view of Fenric’s pert ass in those very tight jeans. He usually wasn’t the type to get distracted by such things, but since he’d admitted to himself and Fenric that he was invested in their budding relationship, he was open to more sexual urges and thoughts.

It was a fair difference from the days long past, before he was separated from Rory, when he would scratch a faint itch or expel some built-up frustrations with a random stranger for a night once every blue moon. There was little to compare between his past interludes and what was growing between him and Fenric. He’d never felt desire build in such a way—gradually, yet inevitably, like an oak tree eventually bursting into flame days after a lightning strike, embers steadily consuming their way deeper into the heart of the tree.

He was on fire, a slow burn that ate deeper, flaring to life in unexpected ways only to burn down again, waiting for something new to fuel his growing attraction and desire. Fenric was a rush of fresh air, feeding the fire of his desires, be it the heated look in his eyes while watching Cian get dressed, or the sassy way he glanced back over his shoulder as he walked ahead of Cian, catching him in the act of checking out Fenric’s ass.

Cian made himself look away, eyeing the fire escape ladder that was suspended high over their heads out of reach. He was about to use a burst of magic to get the ladder to release when Fenric bent at his knees and then leapt straight up, catching the bottom rung of the ladder and using his weight to force the latch to give. Fenric let the ladder lower him back down to the surface of the alley, and winked at Cian with a smirk as he descended. The sound of the metal ladder coming down was drowned out by a passing truck at the main road, disguising their movements.

Cian looked up through the metal frame of the fire escape, but there was no sign their targets had heard them or noticed anything. No one poked their head over the edge of the roof, or out the windows of any floor of the building. Their positions, little blips of life signatures in the ambient magic fields, remained unchanged.

He kept his glamour intact, only Fenric able to see him, and gestured for Fenric to go first. Fenric climbed the ladder with alacrity, a swift ascent that had him on the second floor of the fire escape in seconds. Cian followed, neither he nor Fenric making a sound as they climbed. Fenric did pause beside each window as they climbed past the floors of the building, checking that there was no one looking out as they went past.

Luck was on their side—there was no one near the windows on each floor, and they managed to get to the roof level in just a few moments. Fenric and Cian crouched, keeping just beneath the edge of the roof.

Cian carefully peered over the edge of the roof, not knowing the identity or skills of the possible assassins—they might be able to see him through his glamour.

The long barrel of the rifle gave him a brief start, a reaction to the large gun that was perfectly rational considering he nearly died recently from a shotgun blast to the chest. Thankfully it wasn’t aimed at him, and he peeked back over again, taking his time looking.

There was a pergola of red timber and flowering vines that framed the doorway entrance to the roof space, and within the partial shade of the pergola a sniper lay spread out on the gravel and stone pavers comprising the floor of the roof. They’d taken apart a flimsy lounge chair and used the cushions as a makeshift mat to protect themselves from the hard ground, and instead of peering down the scope toward the roof and rear garden of the Salvatore house, the very human sniper was leafing through a magazine.

Another human sat in the remaining chaise, staring at their phone, only occasionally looking up from their doomscrolling to squint across the alley before going back to their phone. Both were dressed in khaki-colored cargo pants and what appeared to be second-hand military gear from a surplus store. Well, not dressed in the body armor—that was tossed aside, the two humans very clearly had gotten comfortable as they waited for their targets to come into view.

As if Angel Salvatore wouldn’t have the wards calibrated to stop high-velocity, large caliber rounds shot from any distance. No bullet was getting through his wards. What the humans were expecting to accomplish left him a bit baffled.

Neither appeared to be armed with more than a pair of knives and the long gun. Empty duffle bags lay beside the tossed-aside body armor. Cian sank back down and arched a brow at Fenric before whispering. “Human sniper and spotter. Neither are paying attention.”

“How disappointing.” Fenric gave him a wicked smile and then there was a shimmer, and Fenric was once again the small black cat. Fenric was up and over the edge of the roof before Cian could get a word of protest in—he did not want his kitten to get shot, but then, Fenric was smart, and the subsequent cooing from the humans settled his nerves.

“A kitty! Awww,” the sniper said as Fenric pranced over to the humans and meowed plaintively for attention, tail flicking.

“Where did you come from, sweetie?” the spotter asked, setting aside their phone and sitting on the ground beside the sniper, mission forgotten as they both pet and scratched Fenric, who was purring loud enough for Cian to hear from several feet away.

The humans dropped in age in his estimation—they were easily in their early twenties, if not late teens, and sure, humans of that age could be deadly killers, but these humans reminded him of children, cosseted and truly unprepared for the job they’d accepted.

Cian silently climbed onto the roof and rolled his eyes hard at the sight of Fenric absolutely loving the attention, rolling on his back and presenting his belly for rubs. The two humans cooed over him and Cian sighed quietly, knowing he wasn’t going to be killing anyone if Fenric was having that much fun. The humans were thrilled to play with a cat, so they weren’t thoroughly evil monsters deserving of a swift death. Both of them were loving on Fenric with both hands, and the sniper even leaned down and pressed kisses to the top of Fenric’s head, which Fenric took as his due.

Unless they did something monumentally stupid, Cian wasn’t going to be killing anyone. How boring. He did get bored quite easily.

He got behind the humans, standing at their backs, and reached down, flicking his wrist, a dagger appearing just as he dropped his glamour. He gently pressed the edge of the blade to the spotter’s throat, and the human gasped, going utterly still. Simultaneously, there was a glimmer of light and then Fenric was sidhe again, kneeling in front of the sniper, clawed fingers on the sniper’s throat, holding them immobile.

“Oh shit,” the spotter whispered, frozen in terror.

“Hello, humans,” Cian said cheerfully. “Don’t be any more stupid than you already have been, and you’ll live to be embarrassed another day.”

“You’ll only die if you misbehave,” Fenric added, grinning wide, fangs visible. “Since you both love cats I’m giving you a pass.” He gently shook the sniper by their neck, not enough to hurt, but they gurgled a bit. “What’s the bounty up to now?”

“Twenty million,” the spotter answered swiftly, holding utterly still, which was good, as the blade Cian had pressed to their neck was sharp enough to take their head if they flinched too hard.

“In total, or per target?” Cian asked, curious.

“Per-per target,” the sniper managed to gasp out.

“Give me your phones,” Fenric ordered, fingers glinting with razor-sharp claws. “Slowly.”

Both the spotter and the sniper moved carefully, pulling phones from a pocket and the cushion on the chaise, Fenric taking them both. He held the sniper’s phone to their face and opened the device, scrolling one-handed through their text messages.

“This is your first hit?” Fenric exclaimed, brows rising. “For fuck’s sake.”

Cian sighed, and pulled the dagger away from the spotter’s neck, the human going limp in relief, drooping at Cian’s feet, shaking.

Fenric shook the sniper again, then let them go, the sniper coughing and holding their neck where tiny pricks from Fenric’s claws had left droplets of blood behind, a vivid scarlet on terror-paled skin. He sent both of their phones into the ether to have his hands free.

Fenric grabbed the sniper rifle and stood with it, dismissing the humans as not a threat, and he unloaded the rifle in efficient movements, the chambered bullet clinking to the stone ground, bouncing before rolling to a stop under Fenric’s boot. Fenric dismantled the rifle, dropping each section without care as he did, the sniper wincing with each solid thunk of the weapon pieces hitting the ground.

Cian slipped away from the spotter, not at all concerned by the fact that the humans were both still armed with knives. The blades smelled like oil and hot metal—brand-new, never tasting blood. They might be skilled in using the blades, but Cian doubted it. The entire situation stank of spoiled, rich neophytes attempting their first hit.

Cian went to stand beside Fenric, who used magic to grab the bullet from under his boot and hold it aloft, peering intently at the casing. He rolled his eyes and sent the sniper such a look of disdain that the human flinched. Fenric pulled out his phone from the ether, and to Cian’s increasing amusement, snapped a picture of the two cowering humans, their startled faces going even paler. “Your prints are on the casing. I’ll be keeping this. It’s insurance in case you decide to try fulfilling a contract in this city again. You come back to Boston with the intent to work, and I’ll implode your life. Understand?”

“Ye-ess,” they stammered, leaning back into their spotter, who was ghost-white, eyes wide, shaking. Neither of them were worth the effort of cleaning blood from their clothing.

Fenric put his own phone back in the ether, then called back the humans’ phones from the ether as well. Cian held out a hand and Fenric dropped the phones on his palm, and he tossed the phones back to the terrified humans. “Decline the hit. Both of you.”

“But we’ll get blacklisted!” the spotter cried. “We can’t!”

Cian sighed loudly, and gestured to the humans with his dagger. “Yes, you can. Do it, and you have a day to escape the city before we change our minds about sparing you both.”

Fenric disappeared the bullet into the ether and then picked up the long barrel of the rifle, and the humans watched in wide-eyed horror as Fenric bent the barrel, the metal groaning under the cat-sidhe’s hands. Fenric was small for a sidhe, but he was strong. He tossed the now U-shaped barrel at the humans, where it landed in the sniper’s lap.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours to get out of Boston, or I’ll do that to your spines after I rip them out of your bodies,” Fenric snarled. Both humans looked like they were going to vomit and Cian had no doubt they believed Fenric’s threat.

Cian was very impressed by Fenric’s description.

“Okay, okay! We’ll do it,” the sniper said.

The humans fussed with their phones before holding them out so Fenric could check that they had indeed withdrawn from the contracts on the Salvatores.

“How lovely, thank you,” Fenric quipped, cheerful and smiling wide. The humans eyed him with blatant alarm and distrust, and Cian was highly amused. “Feel free to share what happened here with everyone you know. I’d love to see an exodus of assassins from town. Try not to get killed on your way home.”

The humans scrambled to their feet and hurriedly gathered their gear, though the sniper left the ruined rifle pieces on the ground at Fenric’s feet. The two were packed up and gone in less than a minute, the rooftop door slamming shut in their wake as they left.

Cian considered their location in Beacon Hill and the distance to the nearest pub. “Want lunch?”

“Sure! It’s a date,” Fenric replied with a wide grin.

Cian

The pub was on the corner of an intersection one block north of Beacon Street on the southern edge of Beacon Hill, three blocks from Angel’s new place, and an easy walk on the warm summer day. The streets were crowded with tourists, locals, and people going about their workday.

Cian was visible, though he altered his appearance enough that hopefully no one would see him and think of the meant-to-be-dead serial killer. In place of moss-green hair, he was sporting navy blue, wavy locks that fell to his ears, and his eyes were no longer swirling pools of mercury and cobalt, but a plain sky blue. His skin went from honey-kissed to silvery pale, though he made sure to avoid looking like death warmed over and kept a glimmer of light in his eyes and a wicked smile. He wanted people to see a handsome fae man and not an ill specter, garnering concern and attention.

Fenric paced at his side with a slight swagger, hand in hand with Cian, both of them taking their time, dodging around fellow pedestrians and benches and chairs that migrated out onto the sidewalk from storefronts and restaurants as they walked down the block.

Cian cast Fenric an appreciative glance—the cat was charming and sweet and a delight to carry around, but the sidhe was eye-catching, arresting, and lithe in a way that captured his feline essence. His black hair glittered like obsidian in the summer sun, and his green eyes were brilliant and large, the vertical slits thinned out due to the bright sunlight.

Fenric caught him looking and gave him a small smirk and a silly wink, making Cian chuckle and squeeze his hand around Fenric’s smaller hand in his grip. His hand might be smaller but his grip was just as strong as Cian’s, as was the return squeeze.

The pub was just ahead, and the tables outside on the sidewalk were all full, but the day was warm and the breeze was cool, so perhaps they had some seats open inside.

“Let’s check inside,” Fenric said, echoing his thoughts, and Cian held the door open as Fenric went through first , stopping at the host station just inside the entrance.

“Hi! How many?” the young man at the podium asked with a practiced smile. Cian and Fenric both got a swift look-over from the human. Fenric must have been more to his taste, as the human gave Fenric a huge smile, showing shiny white teeth, effectively ignoring Cian. That was fine by him—he didn’t want anyone looking at him too hard. He was meant to be dead, after all.

“Just the two of us? We can eat inside if that’s alright.” Fenric said.

“We’ve got tables open inside; everyone wants to be outside in the nice weather,” the host said, grabbing two menus and gesturing for them to follow him deeper into the restaurant.

They got a seat near the back wall, and the host left them with the menus as they both took a second to decide who was going to be sitting with their back to the wall. Cian shrugged and grabbed the chair with its back to the crowd and dragged it around the table, setting it in place beside Fenric’s chair so they would both have their backs to the wall and no one behind them.

Fenric was amused, if the smirk was anything to go by, and Cian sat beside Fenric as if the arrangement were utterly normal. A few people at nearby tables looked at them with curiosity, but soon returned their gazes to their plates when Cian met their stares directly with his own.

“Don’t scare the humans,” Fenric said softly under his breath. “At least let me get something to eat before you start traumatizing people.”

“Apologies, my kitten,” Cian replied, trying not to laugh. “I’ll scare them after we’ve eaten.”

“Thank you,” Fenric replied primly, taking his seat and opening his menu. Cian did the same and looked over the offerings, the menu different from the last time he came. It had to be at least twenty years since he was here last. His memory had been a bit unreliable the closer he got to losing his mind to the abyss. Thankfully, with his wits restored his memory was back to functioning perfectly. Some things were still hazy, but there was no missing time.

Only an expanse of ever-worsening choices made without a conscience or empathy guiding his decisions. He’d lost the memory of compassion and made terrible choices as a result.

He dismissed the maudlin thoughts and focused on his dining companion. “Are you enjoying your stay in Boston so far?” Cian asked casually while reading his menu.

Fenric paused reading the menu and gave him a startled glance, amusement quickly filling his expression. “Are you actually treating this like a real date?”

“Of course I am,” Cian answered.

Fenric opened his mouth as if to speak, his cheeks growing pink, and he looked away, blinking quickly. Cian gave him a moment to compose himself. Fenric turned back to Cian with a soft smile after a long moment. “Thank you.”

Fenric took Cian’s hand and held it, and Cian rested their joined hands on the white tablecloth between them, happy not to let go.