Breaking Ties (25 page)

“They work magic.”

She nods, lining up the final shot. “They change the world. They alter it, end it, begin it anew, and this world is exactly as the old one. No favor for any of the clans or the mythics, no diminishing. The decree of the Lightning Rod was to lessen the
Ra'keth
. Eight ball, side pocket.”

“So?”

“
So?
” She gets some attention at that, mostly because her human guise drops, her tone betrays a hint of masculinity, anger. She also misses her shot. “There shall only be one Ra'keth.
On
e
.
How could he decree something so…so…idiotic?”

“Before that you had to kill a Ra'keth to become one, maybe he wanted to cut down on the competition. I don't know. Three people were the Sorcerer King in one night, remember? Would you rather have had the Frozen River? He wanted to kill all the gods.”

“Obviously not, but that fool could've been dealt with. This one…this one could kill us all.”

“How? I mean, he's slipped up a couple times, but I doubt he's going to go all Bond villain and end the world again.” I lean back against the table. This isn't really the memorial drinking binge that I wanted to have for Dad's sake. I'd planned to have a few here, go to the Palace, find someone, anyone, willing to take me into the men's room or the ladies' room and not come out until some burly satyr called me a cab and told me to come back later. “If he gets too bad, someone will pull an Emerald and ground him out.”

“The Emerald is to remind him he's human, he's aware of that. Unfortunately there is no trick to remind a sorcerer of what he is
also
.”

“And that is?”

“Magic.”

“Well, obviously he can work magic, we covered that already.”

“No, Spencer, he
is
magic. The Ra'keth is the conduit for magic itself. The Lightning Rod is his title, Sigil is his
name
.” The Kitsune takes a few seconds, gathering herself. “Spencer, all of us, all of the mythics, you remember our origins, yes? What we all have in common?”

Everything, at least in the beginning, was created by a sorcerer. The details vary from case to case in the reasoning, such as dragons apparently being made as guard dogs, the Fae being crafted as living dreams, the weres and vamps made as soldiers to use against other Ra'keth. Every mythic, even the gods themselves, was initially born of a sorcerer's will, an act of magic.

“I'm still not seeing why this means we're all doomed because he's keeping a low profile. The Recluse did the same thing, didn't he? Why the hell are you telling me this anyway? And I mean, why are
you
finding
me
to make sure I know this shit?”

“Because the Coyote that could trick
me
, that could fool a fallen Keth into believing that he is a sorcerer, that could steal an Emerald in the Snow, that has tricked reality itself into believing he can work magic…”

“I throw cards, Shiko, that's your trick.”

“Even I cannot make the trick work as often as you do. The Fates look the other way so often where your clan is concerned I can only assume there is some sort of collusion—”

“Shiko? My father died today, okay? Can any of this wait until tomorrow?”

She puts her hand on my shoulder, squeezes it. “I know.”

“Then why bother me with all this tonight?”

“Because you need to know. Because the clans need to be aware, and you are the only Coyote who would give this information the weight it deserves. Also…” She takes my beer, sips it. “You are not the only one in mourning. I lost a good rival tonight. There are few that still challenge me. I will…miss the competition. As the Phouka are caught up in their own complications with the Fae, that leaves me with either hunting demons…” she meets my eyes, and it's still like looking into an autumn sky, “…or Karuta.” She leans into me, her human guise returning as her lips brush mine, but I gently push her away.

“I can't. I'm sorry, I just can't.” Instead, I try to change the subject by taking the last shot. “Eight ball. Side pocket.”
Plunk.
Yay me. Crap, I forgot to set terms. I just beat a Kitsune and won't get anything out of it.

“I understand. Spencer?”

“Hmm?”

“Don't go anywhere. I need to run to the ladies' room.” And she leaves the table, but I catch a smile, her natural smile, with the barest of winks just before she turns away. Her keys are on the table. Keys to a 1967 Corvette. In the end, I guess, it's the best method of consoling she can come up with, of keeping my father alive a little longer.

I get up, take the keys, go out to the car in the lot and drive off into the night.

Chapter Thirty-One

Spencer

December 21, 3:06 am

It's after three in the morning when I finally make it back to the diner. Took me a while to remember driving stick, and after that it was just wandering the highways, listening to maudlin music.

Everything's closed up, so I go in through the side door, use the key I hid behind a loose brick. I'm already into a new day, so all the shit is officially in the past, but it won't feel real until I wake up later this morning.

Who am I kidding? Early this afternoon.

I left the 'Vette in a parking garage a couple stops down the Blue Line. Maybe I'll move it tomorrow, don't really know how Dad handled the game of Keep Away. What I do know is that even if my grandfather doesn't really see me as a Coyote anymore, the other clans still do.

Dave's snoring away in his tub, you learn to tune it out after a while. The futon's empty, so my first thought is that James and Ozzie just had a spat, and now he's back over there, the two of them making up or in post-making-up bliss.

Then I see the silhouette through the skylight, up on the roof. I should go to bed, but judgment issues, you know?

James is standing near the ledge, looking off toward the sky, not at the street below, so I assume this is brooding, not contemplation of something stupid. Still, I say, “Don't jump.”

He sits down on the ledge. He's wearing his bathrobe that's too big for him, the one he wears when he's doing stuff in his storage locker. “Shitty night, huh?”

“Quite.” I go over and sit next to him. “Why are you up here?”

“Making sure I don't do anything dumb, like call out Ozzie's name and force him to come here and take me back.” He sags, rubs his face with his hands. “I don't know what I did to fuck it up, you know? Wasn't like I wasn't the Ra'keth when we started dating.”

“It's a bit for people to take. Just because he's a Dwarf doesn't mean he's had a lot of exposure to the weird stuff, and you tend to attract the weird stuff, you gotta admit. Give him some time, you'll find a way to work it out.”

He half-chuckles at that, the other half of it an amused sigh. “Funny to hear you saying that.”

“How so?”

“My boyfriend left me. Didn't you promise you'd be there to swoop in for the rebound?”

“Well…” I scoot a little down the ledge, away from him. “That was something I said. You just got your heart broken so I'll try to follow Wheaton's Law.”

“That being?”

“Don't be a dick. Also, you told me not to make any rebound comments.”

That earns a smile. “I feel like shit, Spencer.”

“Same here.” I yawn, put out the idea I'm tired and it's past three in the morning, so maybe we'll both be in better spirits tomorrow morning and won't make any mistakes tonight. It was a very nuanced yawn. “But the least we can do is help each other through it, right?”

“Spencer, seriously, I'm sorry about your father.” And he hugs me tight, clearly taking it worse than I am at the moment. Dad didn't want me crying about it. I'm sure, wherever he is, he's happy the 'Vette's back in the family.

“Don't worry about it, I'm grieving in my own way. Even going to a few strip clubs in his honor. You wanna go with me?”

He shakes his head. “Spence, you don't have to do this.”

I hold his face in my hands. “James? Trust me, yesterday was the shittiest day of my life, but it was
yesterday
. Today's starting off okay, we'll see about tomorrow. For now, just…just be here and talk to me.” I glance at the new accessory on his belt. “What's that?”

He takes the staff off his belt, looks at it a few seconds and clips it back on. “Ozzie made that for me. I claimed it. Without even thinking, I claimed it. I think that's what scared him off. I guess I get pretty scary looking.”

“Black eyes, dark veins, yeah, it's intimidating.”

James looks at me. “So why are you still here, then? Hell, you've seen it a bunch of times. Why didn't you run off?”

“Well, because I've been chased by zombies, almost blown to pieces by your ex, nearly sacrificed to a dead guy, stabbed through the arm, shot at, possessed by the Usurper… I'm shocked I'm not in a rubber room, to be perfectly honest. I've seen the sort of shit that would demand months of therapy.” I shrug, nudge his shoulder. “So you'd probably have to bring your A-game to drive me away.”

“Bullshit.” He shakes his head. “There's got to be more to it than that.”

“Fucking sorcerers and their trickster sense…”

“So it's all for a trick?”

“No, it's nothing like that. I just want to be here with you because you're feeling shitty and helping you out gets my mind off feeling shitty and—”

And he's kissing me. His tongue slides between my lips and teeth, eager, needy, arms tightly holding me to him.

I wish I could say I was strong enough to resist, that I could be a better man, that I pushed him away and told him it wouldn't be right, and then found a place to crash, but…

“Spencer?”

I pull away enough to look into his eyes, dreamily. “Yes, James?”

“Please.” His hands slide down along my sides, wander over the front of my jeans to underline the request. “Please.”

Oh God, Spencer Jensen Crain, you need to pull back and tell him no. Not like this. Not like this.

“James, we shouldn't.” Jesus, that took everything I had. “I can't do this. Not to you.”

“Can't do what?” His eyes are focused on mine, the moon reflecting off them, which doesn't really help the Coyote instincts.

“I can't… You want me to sleep with you, right? You're feeling awful and rejected, and you want to feel like someone still thinks you're awesome, so you want me to sleep with you. I've seen it in a hundred movies and TV shows, and it never turns out well. It wrecks friendships and I'm not going to risk losing you for the chance at making your futon squeak and traumatizing Dave.”

“Maybe. But I think you'd do it anyway, and not because you're torn up over your dad.”

“What, because you think I'm an opportunistic prick?”

He shakes his head. “No. Because you love me.”

And the world sort of stops for a few seconds. I haven't been that obvious, have I? Did Ozzie tell him? Am I part of the reason they broke up? Shit, that is exactly what I didn't want.

Time seems to start again when his hand is on my face. “You do love me, don't you?”

Fuck.

“Spencer, it's a simple question.”

“With a really difficult answer, okay?”

“If the answer was no, you would've said so by now. You also would've taken me up on it.” He kisses me gently, again. “But you didn't. So c'mon, Coyote, you love me or not?”

I sigh. “Fucking… Yes. Okay? Yes, I love you, you oblivious dumbass.”

“Then why the
fuck
didn't you say anything?” He's gotten up now, stomped off through the gravel that covers the roof. “Jesus, I've been with Ozzie six months, how long has this been going on?”

“Since uh…around the time you two started going out. Had an epiphany and everything. I wanted to be the guy who made you happy, Ozzie just beat me to it. So I stepped aside because that's what you're supposed to do, and I've been paying for it ever since!”

Now I'm standing. I've only seen a couple movies where a declaration of love turns into a screaming match, but at least I've got a road map. “Besides, it doesn't fucking matter anyway if you don't have any feelings for me, right?” I take another step toward him. “
Right?
” Another step. He's not looking at me.

I lower my voice. “Right?”

A couple seconds later I'm on my back on the gravel, James on top of me, mouth locked with mine as his hands work my clothes open. What follows is…

Technically, I've had better. Rourke had centuries of experience and months to learn every single spot on my body to make my loins surge. James needs work on his foreplay, erogenous zones, all that. Clearly he's used to following someone else's lead. Also, I definitely cannot recommend sex on cold gravel at three twenty in the morning in December.

But when it's the first time with someone you love? Really love?

“Spencer…” He whispers in my ear just as it happens and doesn't let go of me until it's over. It's mostly the heavy breathing that accompanies the end of exertion after that. That's all I'll report. Some things you keep to yourself, treasure, remember to your dying day. The first time you really make love? That's one of those moments.

“Feel any better?” I'm still on my back, holding him against me, looking out toward the moon that's starting to pass behind Victory Tower.

“Yeah. You?” He repositions so we're face-to-face.

“You never really gave me an answer, if you have feelings for me.” I kiss along his neck. He makes a satisfied noise in reply.

“I think so. My heart's in a bit of a jumble right now, you understand. Can we talk about it in the morning?”

“Yeah, we should probably get some sleep. But we are going to talk about it, right?”

“No.”

“No? But you said we'd—”

“No, we won't sleep. I'm not really ready to sleep yet.” He runs his fingers along my face. “So I was thinking you'd make good on all that bragging about your prowess.”

One part of my body is definitely amenable to that plan, namely the part that's exposed to the night air, that I'd like to gently push into the man I love so he'll make the sort of noises that no guy has ever come close to eliciting from him before. Yes, I'll admit there's a bit of Coyote pride at stake. I won't claim we can fuck better than sorcerers, but I'll be damned if we lose out to dragons or Fae. Plus, just because you love a guy doesn't mean you can't demonstrate your jackhammer impression for him.

Still, I've seen this movie before.

“James, I don't want you screwing me to avoid a conversation, otherwise I'm the pathetic guy in love with you that you use at your leisure, and I think you'd understand if my opinion is ‘to hell with that'.” This isn't really the conversation I imagined having within minutes of having him on top of me for the first time.

“And you're telling me you've been in love with every person you've ever gone out with? It's not enough to want to know what it'd be like with you? Christ, what is this, high school? I'm attracted to you, is that what you want to hear?”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“Hey, you asked me the same question, James, it's fair play. How long have you been attracted to me?”

Seriously, I can still feel a little warmth in there from when he finished. I told him I love him, and we're fighting already about our relationship. There's a romantic comedy in here somewhere, by God.

“The diner. When I beat you at the shell game. I thought you were kind of hot even with that simply…
horrid
dye job. I wasn't used to guys flirting with me, you caught me off guard. It'd been a while since I'd been off guard. And…” He rolls his eyes. “That's how I feel around you. Off guard. Like…like
me
. Like…Miles.”

His real name. Who he was before he became James Black. He takes a breath before continuing. “And I don't know if that means I love you, okay? I know you're my friend and you're important to me and…and I wanted to kiss you and maybe I had a moment of weakness and Ozzie left me. I don't even know what the fuck you went through before I got back. I just… Christ, Spence, isn't that enough to—”

So, yeah, I'm kissing him now.

What? He started it.

There's a way he holds me to him while I do that. He's not a fantastic kisser—competent, not Oscar-worthy—but there's a quality to it, kind of like when he hugged me years ago in the lobby of Victory Station. When he called me a hero.

His hero.

I don't let him go. “You realize I'm a Coyote. I'm probably not the best choice for you. This'll only complicate your life.”

“Because it's so simple right now.” He manages a soft smile. “You still going to try to trick me?”

I return the smile, kiss him lightly again. “Every day, James. In all the best ways.”

We're getting off on the wrong foot, we were fighting within minutes of consummating the relationship, and let's face it, with a Coyote boyfriend he's got an even bigger target on his back now. But that's all for tomorrow's James and Spencer. Right now, the man I love is in my arms, and though our moment may be short and fragile, its ending uncertain, it still waits beyond the hidden dawn.