Greg-the-Vampire!
I couldn't leave you guys hanging for too long on that last bit. This part's all emoooootiony. As always, comments/crit welcome.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve
Greg’s vision swam as the room tilted alarmingly, and he blinked trying to clear his vision, sure that he was seeing things.
Arvel walked closer and closer; his hips rolled in a silent prowl, and his eyes never left Greg’s face. The room seemed to dim and narrow, and it wasn’t until Greg could smell Arvel, smell the sharp scent of magic and citrus that clung to Arvel’s tall, slender frame, that he realized he wasn’t hallucinating. This was real.
“Hello, Gregori,” Arvel said, sliding fluidly onto the stool next to Greg. “Been a while.” His lips flicked up in a careless smile. He was still painfully handsome.
Greg choked and nearly dropped his empty glass. There was a strange roaring sound in his ears. “Arvel? How - what are you doing here? How did you find me?!”
“It wasn’t that hard,” Arvel said, with a negligent shrug. “It was much easier after I set a tracer-spell on you.”
The bar’s dim light cast shadows across Arvel’s face, deepening the lines of his cheekbones and long nose; strands of pale blond hair fell over his shifting yellow-green eyes; they were framed by thick, black lashes that had always made his eyes look exotic and wrong for his face.
“You set a - I change my clothes every day,” Greg said, mentally shaking himself. “There’s no way you could’ve kept a tracer-spell on me.”
“You don’t change your hair, do you?” Arvel asked, grinning wickedly.
“You grounded a tracer-spell in my hair?” Greg said, aghast that he’d never thought to check himself. A small part of him was also impressed - Arvel was still a clever bastard.
“Naturally,” Arvel said. He leaned across Greg’s lap and ran his fingers through Greg’s hair, teasing the curve of his ear. Greg suppressed a shudder and only stopped himself from leaning into the touch when he remembered that this was Arvel who had tried to kill him and was possibly rabid.
“Stop, just stop,” Greg said, jerking back. He head swam and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep the room from spinning.
Arvel removed his hand, but he leaned closer, and the heat of his body seeped through Greg’s skin. “Sorry. You’re looking good, Greg. The short hair suits you.”
Greg shook his head. He could feel the feather-light tingle of Arvel’s ogre Voice whisper over his skin, cocooning him in warmth. It was one of the things he’d loved about Arvel, the way his voice could always make Greg feel warm and safe - it had all been a lie, but sometimes lies were nice.
Arvel’s hands slid across Greg’s shoulder, kneading the stiff muscles; Greg felt frozen but his skin jumped hyperaware under Arvel’s strong fingers. “My poor Gregori. You seem tense. I could make you feel better. I know just what you like.”
Greg couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he could only stare into Arvel’s yellow-green eyes, and try to remember why he hated this beautiful monster. He blinked and shook his head. “No, stop!”
Arvel frowned, and the power of his voice shattered; the web of magic weaving around Greg’s addled brain weakened and dissipated like mist. “Greg, love, be reasonable - “
“Don’t,” Greg said slowly, deliberately. “None of your games, Arvel. What do you want?”
Arvel’s eyes darkened to a luminous green, shining eerily under the bar lights. “Really,” he said. “You always do set me up with the perfect lines.”
He leaned in, and his hot, moist breath hit Greg’s cheek; he felt the light tickle as Arvel’s forked tongue flickered out and tasted the air above his skin.
“You, Greg. I want you.” Arvel’s tongue trailed up the side of Greg’s jaw.
Greg reeled back, falling from his stool. He had to grab the bar to keep from planting his ass on the ground. Arvel grabbed him around the waist, and Greg struggled to push his hands away.
“Leave me alone,” he said desperately. “Just go away.” His protests sounded feeble, even to his ears. Arvel finally let him go, and Greg slumped back onto his seat.
Arvel’s eyes shifted color again, turning the pale green of new moss; that color usually meant he was trying to be sincere. “I miss you, Greg. I want you to come back. I made a terrible mistake.”
“So did I,” Greg spat. “You.”
Arvel’s mercurial eyes flashed deep emerald as he struggled to hold his temper in check. “Some mistakes bear repeating.”
“I don’t think so,” Greg said, trying to control his wild emotions. He’d spent so many years of his life with Arvel, shared so many memories. And it hadn’t all been bad - he’d loved Arvel, more than anything, and Arvel had loved him too, in his own twisted way.
“Now, Greg, don’t be difficult. You know I always get what I want.” Arvel smiled, charming and deadly, and licked his lips; his thin forked tongue flickered out teasingly, and it was suddenly hard for Greg to forget how good it had felt to kiss the ogre, especially not when Arvel was sitting only a foot away, and stroking his hand down Greg’s thigh.
“Stop,” Greg said again, scowling and moving his leg away. There was a reason this wouldn’t work, a reason he was supposed to hate Arvel. “You tried to kill me, you bastard.”
“It was only a lover’s spat, darling,” Arvel said, placing his hand next to Greg’s on the bar. “I wouldn’t have let them hurt you too much. I was just so angry that you refused my gift - it hurt my feelings terribly. But you left before I could explain anything, tell you how sorry I was, that I didn't know what the stone really meant. You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye,” Arvel added sadly, his eyes soft and repentant. He moved his hand, letting his thumb stroke the back of Greg’s hand.
“Fuck,” Greg said, feeling moisture prick at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck, I forgot how good you were at this.”
Arvel smiled slowly, triumphantly. “I’ve only gotten better. Now, why don’t we go to a more private place so that we can . . . talk. I’ll get you back to your dreary orphanage in plenty of time for tomorrow.” His eyes glinted with promise.
Greg felt his eyes half-close as he listened to Arvel talk. It would be so easy - he knew what to expect with Arvel. And if Luce didn’t want him, if Luce didn’t need him - once the orphanage was running smoothly, he wouldn’t hang around anymore. Once they figured out who was threatening the orphanage he’d have outlived his useful -
And Greg sat up straight, knocking Arvel’s hand away. Once again, he felt the rush of dissipating magic, and saw Arvel scowl.
“What is it, love?” Arvel said, and there was something brittle in his voice, some too-cheerful false note that caught Greg’s attention.
“The orphanage,” Greg said. “How did you know about the orphanage? We haven’t advertised publicly yet.”
Arvel’s eyes went electric green for a split second, and if Greg had blinked he would have missed it. “Oh, I hear things around town. You know how I love gossip.”
“I should have known,” Greg said, feeling his gut twist. “It’s you. You’re behind it. Now I know why the magic feels familiar.”
Arvel paused, and Greg could see the calculations running behind his eyes, weighing options and weaving the best excuse. He still knew Arvel too well. It made him feel a little sick.
“Oh,” said Arvel easily. “I suppose you caught me.”
Greg’s mouth hung open. Admitting mistakes was not something Arvel was ever good at. Something wasn’t right. But then Arvel’s words finally registered, and Greg felt his eyes burn red. He wanted to punch Arvel, wanted to tear his throat out, rip him apart. Arvel had threatened the orphanage, threatened the kids, threatened Luce -
“Of course,” Arvel continued silkily, “I’m sure you’ve realized that there are at least two sorcerers behind the spells.”
“Who?” Greg snarled. “Who else?” He could feel his teeth lengthen, and he heard Arvel’s breath catch.
“I do love it when you get angry, Greg,” Arvel said, laughing breathlessly. His eyes were hungry and black-green. “But I’ll only tell you who the real bad guy is on one condition.”
“And what’s that?” Greg ground out, quietly planning all the ways he was going to rip out Arvel’s jugular for even daring to -
“Spend the night with me,” Arvel replied, watching for Greg’s reaction.
Greg pressed both hands flat against the top of his thighs so Arvel wouldn’t see how they trembled. “Not going to happen.”
“Pity,” Arvel said. “The other fellow isn’t nearly as nice as me. I think he’ll actually hurt one of those kids soon.”
Greg snapped up straight in his seat, his body vibrating with wrath. “What?!” he hissed, hearing the crackling harmonic in his voice. He was nearly out of his seat when Arvel reached forward and put a hand to his chest, pushing him down.
“Sit,” Arvel ordered with steely command. “I said soon. I don’t know what he’s planning yet. Don’t worry, love, if you’re good I’ll warn you beforehand.”
Greg snapped his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I swear to everything unholy, Arvel, if any of those kids get hurt, I will kill you. I will kill you,” he repeated. His hands rested on tops of his thighs, and they clenched spasmodically, forcing his nails into his palm. Blood trickled down and stained his trousers.
“Of course,” Arvel agreed. “But you know I’d do anything for you, Greg. Just come home with me.”
Greg felt a steady, blinding pressure build in his head, and he knew part of it was Arvel’s compulsion magic, trying to force him into agreement. And the other part was that he felt sick to his stomach, all the blood he’d consumed buzzing through his body and making him flush. It seemed simple - just one night, and Arvel’s loyalties secured.
But Greg knew Arvel. He knew him. Arvel was after more than a night of frolicking - he was after control. Greg couldn’t put himself through what Arvel wanted, not again. But he had to protect the kids and Luce, no matter what.
Sweet Lucifer, he didn’t think his night could get any worse.
He was right: a second later, Luce walked into the bar, glowing with righteous phoenix fire, and the night suddenly got better.
“Ah, right on cue,” Arvel said, noting where Greg’s attention had gone. “Here comes the bird in shining armor.” Each word he spoke was short, and clipped, and dangerous.
Luce took a moment to survey the bar, clearly searching for Greg. His mouth was set in a thin line that matched the flickering, angry light in his eyes. Greg knew the exact moment Luce spotted him because his hair started to smoke.
Luce marched across the bar, face as grim as an avenging angel, but stopped short when he saw Arvel place a proprietary hand on Greg’s thigh. Greg jerked his leg away, unable to hide a shudder of revulsion.
Luce’s face cleared, and he started walking again. He reached them in a few heavy strides; the air hummed with his presence.
“Greg,” Luce said shortly, sparing Arvel a quick glance. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” Greg replied. He felt very, very tired.
Arvel smirked. “You heard him, phoenix. Kindly remove yourself.”
Luce turned his gaze’s full focus on Arvel. The expression that shifted across his face was full of rage and malice; his eyes glowed orange and sparks jumped in his hair. “Not before I kindly remove your head from your shoulders first,” he snarled.
Arvel laughed, wrapping his arm around Greg’s waist before purring, “You could try, featherbrain.”
Greg saw a halo of fire suddenly spring to life around Luce’s clenched fists.
“If I were you, I’d get out of here. I know who you are. Ogre,” Luce said, and the last word dripped with a poisonous sizzle. Greg had never heard him sound so angry. The heat in the bar ratcheted beyond uncomfortable. People were starting to sweat; the liquid evaporated out of the glasses closest to Luce; steam sizzled from the floor.
“Tut tut, there’s no need for violence,” Arvel said. His eyes glittered like black chips of obsidian. “I really should speak with Greg about his taste in friends. He could do so much better.”
“You really don’t want to do this now. It will not end well,” Luce said, flames licking at his hair. His shoulders were tight and vibrating with barely leashed violence.
Arvel’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
The two monsters stared at each for a long, tense moment, and Greg felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as magical electricity surged through the air.
Finally, Arvel shifted in his seat and stood up, brushing invisible lint from the lapel of his stylish sports jacket. “Alas, I’ve just remembered a prior engagement. But you two have a lovely evening. And Greg,” Arvel said, brushing a hand down Greg’s arm, as Luce’s hair ignited in full flame, “think about what I said.”
Luce made a sound like the low shriek of a bird of prey. Several glasses on a nearby table exploded, and monsters dove for cover.
“That’s my cue,” Arvel remarked with a smug smile. He took a few steps toward the door and turned around. “Be extra careful next week, love. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt at the orphanage because you missed a spell. But you,” he said, turning his sharp eyes on Luce, “can blunder about all you like. In fact, I’d suggest it.”
Once the door shut behind him, the temperature in the room dropped rapidly; monsters crawled out from their hiding places under tables and chairs and cautiously resumed drinking.
Luce swiveled around and his angry glare pinned Greg to his seat.
“Talk. Now,” Luce snapped.
Greg sighed.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, looking away.
Luce sat down in the chair Arvel had just vacated, and Greg heard the bubbles and pops as plastic melted. He winced; it seemed Luce was still a bit perturbed.
“Yes, there is,” Luce growled. “You can start off by telling me what that fucking snake Arvel was doing here!”
Greg avoided Luce’s eyes. “I don’t know. He found me here. I wasn’t expecting him.”
Luce glared. “Are you sure he wasn’t who you were planning to meet tonight? Maybe he was the reason you stormed out of the house in a snit, huh?”
“No, you ass,” Greg said, his temper flaring. “Arvel is probably the last person on the face of the earth that I want to see. Especially not when I’m already half drunk and feeling maudlin.”
Some of the anger left Luce’s eyes, and relief washed briefly over his face. “Oh. Sorry. You were just acting so weird, and then you flew out the window and when I saw him here with his hand - look, I’m sorry.” Luce made a disgusted noise and ran his fingers roughly through his hair.
“It’s all right,” Greg said quietly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
They both stared at their hands.
“Why are - why are you mad at me?” Luce asked hesitantly, touching Greg’s hand.
“I’m not,” Greg said, and realized it was true.
He was just happy to have Luce here and not Arvel. He decided that when the time came for Luce to ask him to leave, he’d deal with it. For now . . . for now he had this friendship. He had this beautiful, noble phoenix who didn’t know how much Greg needed him, but came to his rescue anyway; he had someone who was worried about him; he had a friend.
Greg could live with things this way, until they ended. He could.
Luce frowned. “Then what was all that -“
“Nothing,” Greg cut him off. “Blame it on the moon and not feeding properly. I don’t know, blame it on getting stabbed fifty-two times in the leg today by a homicidal Cupid or having another trap spell blow up in my face. I was just in a foul mood.”
After a moment, Luce said quietly, like the words hurt him: “I’ve been asking a lot of you. You’ve helped a lot already. If you’re getting - if you want to get out of here, I’d understand.”
Greg’s throat tightened. Don’t tell me to go, he begged silently. Not yet. “No,” Greg said. “I simply can’t be as sunshiney as you all the time.”
Luce smiled weakly. “Remind me the next time you need a mental health break. I was afraid you were gonna take off for good or something.”
“Not for a while,” Greg said.
They locked eyes; Luce was the first to look away. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Hell,” Greg said. “Why not? My evil ex-boyfriend just chatted me up. I could use something strong.”
“Yeah,” Luce said, and his grin was closer to normal. “And I hear you’ve got an auction coming up in, oh, three days.”
Greg groaned. “Don’t remind me. I even had to take my old tuxedo out of the mausoleum and have it pressed.”
“I’ll buy you a double,” Luce said sympathetically, skimming his hand over Greg’s shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze; it reminded Greg of the way Arvel had touched him.
But it felt much better when Luce did it.
----
Part Fourteen
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve
Greg’s vision swam as the room tilted alarmingly, and he blinked trying to clear his vision, sure that he was seeing things.
Arvel walked closer and closer; his hips rolled in a silent prowl, and his eyes never left Greg’s face. The room seemed to dim and narrow, and it wasn’t until Greg could smell Arvel, smell the sharp scent of magic and citrus that clung to Arvel’s tall, slender frame, that he realized he wasn’t hallucinating. This was real.
“Hello, Gregori,” Arvel said, sliding fluidly onto the stool next to Greg. “Been a while.” His lips flicked up in a careless smile. He was still painfully handsome.
Greg choked and nearly dropped his empty glass. There was a strange roaring sound in his ears. “Arvel? How - what are you doing here? How did you find me?!”
“It wasn’t that hard,” Arvel said, with a negligent shrug. “It was much easier after I set a tracer-spell on you.”
The bar’s dim light cast shadows across Arvel’s face, deepening the lines of his cheekbones and long nose; strands of pale blond hair fell over his shifting yellow-green eyes; they were framed by thick, black lashes that had always made his eyes look exotic and wrong for his face.
“You set a - I change my clothes every day,” Greg said, mentally shaking himself. “There’s no way you could’ve kept a tracer-spell on me.”
“You don’t change your hair, do you?” Arvel asked, grinning wickedly.
“You grounded a tracer-spell in my hair?” Greg said, aghast that he’d never thought to check himself. A small part of him was also impressed - Arvel was still a clever bastard.
“Naturally,” Arvel said. He leaned across Greg’s lap and ran his fingers through Greg’s hair, teasing the curve of his ear. Greg suppressed a shudder and only stopped himself from leaning into the touch when he remembered that this was Arvel who had tried to kill him and was possibly rabid.
“Stop, just stop,” Greg said, jerking back. He head swam and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep the room from spinning.
Arvel removed his hand, but he leaned closer, and the heat of his body seeped through Greg’s skin. “Sorry. You’re looking good, Greg. The short hair suits you.”
Greg shook his head. He could feel the feather-light tingle of Arvel’s ogre Voice whisper over his skin, cocooning him in warmth. It was one of the things he’d loved about Arvel, the way his voice could always make Greg feel warm and safe - it had all been a lie, but sometimes lies were nice.
Arvel’s hands slid across Greg’s shoulder, kneading the stiff muscles; Greg felt frozen but his skin jumped hyperaware under Arvel’s strong fingers. “My poor Gregori. You seem tense. I could make you feel better. I know just what you like.”
Greg couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he could only stare into Arvel’s yellow-green eyes, and try to remember why he hated this beautiful monster. He blinked and shook his head. “No, stop!”
Arvel frowned, and the power of his voice shattered; the web of magic weaving around Greg’s addled brain weakened and dissipated like mist. “Greg, love, be reasonable - “
“Don’t,” Greg said slowly, deliberately. “None of your games, Arvel. What do you want?”
Arvel’s eyes darkened to a luminous green, shining eerily under the bar lights. “Really,” he said. “You always do set me up with the perfect lines.”
He leaned in, and his hot, moist breath hit Greg’s cheek; he felt the light tickle as Arvel’s forked tongue flickered out and tasted the air above his skin.
“You, Greg. I want you.” Arvel’s tongue trailed up the side of Greg’s jaw.
Greg reeled back, falling from his stool. He had to grab the bar to keep from planting his ass on the ground. Arvel grabbed him around the waist, and Greg struggled to push his hands away.
“Leave me alone,” he said desperately. “Just go away.” His protests sounded feeble, even to his ears. Arvel finally let him go, and Greg slumped back onto his seat.
Arvel’s eyes shifted color again, turning the pale green of new moss; that color usually meant he was trying to be sincere. “I miss you, Greg. I want you to come back. I made a terrible mistake.”
“So did I,” Greg spat. “You.”
Arvel’s mercurial eyes flashed deep emerald as he struggled to hold his temper in check. “Some mistakes bear repeating.”
“I don’t think so,” Greg said, trying to control his wild emotions. He’d spent so many years of his life with Arvel, shared so many memories. And it hadn’t all been bad - he’d loved Arvel, more than anything, and Arvel had loved him too, in his own twisted way.
“Now, Greg, don’t be difficult. You know I always get what I want.” Arvel smiled, charming and deadly, and licked his lips; his thin forked tongue flickered out teasingly, and it was suddenly hard for Greg to forget how good it had felt to kiss the ogre, especially not when Arvel was sitting only a foot away, and stroking his hand down Greg’s thigh.
“Stop,” Greg said again, scowling and moving his leg away. There was a reason this wouldn’t work, a reason he was supposed to hate Arvel. “You tried to kill me, you bastard.”
“It was only a lover’s spat, darling,” Arvel said, placing his hand next to Greg’s on the bar. “I wouldn’t have let them hurt you too much. I was just so angry that you refused my gift - it hurt my feelings terribly. But you left before I could explain anything, tell you how sorry I was, that I didn't know what the stone really meant. You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye,” Arvel added sadly, his eyes soft and repentant. He moved his hand, letting his thumb stroke the back of Greg’s hand.
“Fuck,” Greg said, feeling moisture prick at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck, I forgot how good you were at this.”
Arvel smiled slowly, triumphantly. “I’ve only gotten better. Now, why don’t we go to a more private place so that we can . . . talk. I’ll get you back to your dreary orphanage in plenty of time for tomorrow.” His eyes glinted with promise.
Greg felt his eyes half-close as he listened to Arvel talk. It would be so easy - he knew what to expect with Arvel. And if Luce didn’t want him, if Luce didn’t need him - once the orphanage was running smoothly, he wouldn’t hang around anymore. Once they figured out who was threatening the orphanage he’d have outlived his useful -
And Greg sat up straight, knocking Arvel’s hand away. Once again, he felt the rush of dissipating magic, and saw Arvel scowl.
“What is it, love?” Arvel said, and there was something brittle in his voice, some too-cheerful false note that caught Greg’s attention.
“The orphanage,” Greg said. “How did you know about the orphanage? We haven’t advertised publicly yet.”
Arvel’s eyes went electric green for a split second, and if Greg had blinked he would have missed it. “Oh, I hear things around town. You know how I love gossip.”
“I should have known,” Greg said, feeling his gut twist. “It’s you. You’re behind it. Now I know why the magic feels familiar.”
Arvel paused, and Greg could see the calculations running behind his eyes, weighing options and weaving the best excuse. He still knew Arvel too well. It made him feel a little sick.
“Oh,” said Arvel easily. “I suppose you caught me.”
Greg’s mouth hung open. Admitting mistakes was not something Arvel was ever good at. Something wasn’t right. But then Arvel’s words finally registered, and Greg felt his eyes burn red. He wanted to punch Arvel, wanted to tear his throat out, rip him apart. Arvel had threatened the orphanage, threatened the kids, threatened Luce -
“Of course,” Arvel continued silkily, “I’m sure you’ve realized that there are at least two sorcerers behind the spells.”
“Who?” Greg snarled. “Who else?” He could feel his teeth lengthen, and he heard Arvel’s breath catch.
“I do love it when you get angry, Greg,” Arvel said, laughing breathlessly. His eyes were hungry and black-green. “But I’ll only tell you who the real bad guy is on one condition.”
“And what’s that?” Greg ground out, quietly planning all the ways he was going to rip out Arvel’s jugular for even daring to -
“Spend the night with me,” Arvel replied, watching for Greg’s reaction.
Greg pressed both hands flat against the top of his thighs so Arvel wouldn’t see how they trembled. “Not going to happen.”
“Pity,” Arvel said. “The other fellow isn’t nearly as nice as me. I think he’ll actually hurt one of those kids soon.”
Greg snapped up straight in his seat, his body vibrating with wrath. “What?!” he hissed, hearing the crackling harmonic in his voice. He was nearly out of his seat when Arvel reached forward and put a hand to his chest, pushing him down.
“Sit,” Arvel ordered with steely command. “I said soon. I don’t know what he’s planning yet. Don’t worry, love, if you’re good I’ll warn you beforehand.”
Greg snapped his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I swear to everything unholy, Arvel, if any of those kids get hurt, I will kill you. I will kill you,” he repeated. His hands rested on tops of his thighs, and they clenched spasmodically, forcing his nails into his palm. Blood trickled down and stained his trousers.
“Of course,” Arvel agreed. “But you know I’d do anything for you, Greg. Just come home with me.”
Greg felt a steady, blinding pressure build in his head, and he knew part of it was Arvel’s compulsion magic, trying to force him into agreement. And the other part was that he felt sick to his stomach, all the blood he’d consumed buzzing through his body and making him flush. It seemed simple - just one night, and Arvel’s loyalties secured.
But Greg knew Arvel. He knew him. Arvel was after more than a night of frolicking - he was after control. Greg couldn’t put himself through what Arvel wanted, not again. But he had to protect the kids and Luce, no matter what.
Sweet Lucifer, he didn’t think his night could get any worse.
He was right: a second later, Luce walked into the bar, glowing with righteous phoenix fire, and the night suddenly got better.
“Ah, right on cue,” Arvel said, noting where Greg’s attention had gone. “Here comes the bird in shining armor.” Each word he spoke was short, and clipped, and dangerous.
Luce took a moment to survey the bar, clearly searching for Greg. His mouth was set in a thin line that matched the flickering, angry light in his eyes. Greg knew the exact moment Luce spotted him because his hair started to smoke.
Luce marched across the bar, face as grim as an avenging angel, but stopped short when he saw Arvel place a proprietary hand on Greg’s thigh. Greg jerked his leg away, unable to hide a shudder of revulsion.
Luce’s face cleared, and he started walking again. He reached them in a few heavy strides; the air hummed with his presence.
“Greg,” Luce said shortly, sparing Arvel a quick glance. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” Greg replied. He felt very, very tired.
Arvel smirked. “You heard him, phoenix. Kindly remove yourself.”
Luce turned his gaze’s full focus on Arvel. The expression that shifted across his face was full of rage and malice; his eyes glowed orange and sparks jumped in his hair. “Not before I kindly remove your head from your shoulders first,” he snarled.
Arvel laughed, wrapping his arm around Greg’s waist before purring, “You could try, featherbrain.”
Greg saw a halo of fire suddenly spring to life around Luce’s clenched fists.
“If I were you, I’d get out of here. I know who you are. Ogre,” Luce said, and the last word dripped with a poisonous sizzle. Greg had never heard him sound so angry. The heat in the bar ratcheted beyond uncomfortable. People were starting to sweat; the liquid evaporated out of the glasses closest to Luce; steam sizzled from the floor.
“Tut tut, there’s no need for violence,” Arvel said. His eyes glittered like black chips of obsidian. “I really should speak with Greg about his taste in friends. He could do so much better.”
“You really don’t want to do this now. It will not end well,” Luce said, flames licking at his hair. His shoulders were tight and vibrating with barely leashed violence.
Arvel’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
The two monsters stared at each for a long, tense moment, and Greg felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as magical electricity surged through the air.
Finally, Arvel shifted in his seat and stood up, brushing invisible lint from the lapel of his stylish sports jacket. “Alas, I’ve just remembered a prior engagement. But you two have a lovely evening. And Greg,” Arvel said, brushing a hand down Greg’s arm, as Luce’s hair ignited in full flame, “think about what I said.”
Luce made a sound like the low shriek of a bird of prey. Several glasses on a nearby table exploded, and monsters dove for cover.
“That’s my cue,” Arvel remarked with a smug smile. He took a few steps toward the door and turned around. “Be extra careful next week, love. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt at the orphanage because you missed a spell. But you,” he said, turning his sharp eyes on Luce, “can blunder about all you like. In fact, I’d suggest it.”
Once the door shut behind him, the temperature in the room dropped rapidly; monsters crawled out from their hiding places under tables and chairs and cautiously resumed drinking.
Luce swiveled around and his angry glare pinned Greg to his seat.
“Talk. Now,” Luce snapped.
Greg sighed.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, looking away.
Luce sat down in the chair Arvel had just vacated, and Greg heard the bubbles and pops as plastic melted. He winced; it seemed Luce was still a bit perturbed.
“Yes, there is,” Luce growled. “You can start off by telling me what that fucking snake Arvel was doing here!”
Greg avoided Luce’s eyes. “I don’t know. He found me here. I wasn’t expecting him.”
Luce glared. “Are you sure he wasn’t who you were planning to meet tonight? Maybe he was the reason you stormed out of the house in a snit, huh?”
“No, you ass,” Greg said, his temper flaring. “Arvel is probably the last person on the face of the earth that I want to see. Especially not when I’m already half drunk and feeling maudlin.”
Some of the anger left Luce’s eyes, and relief washed briefly over his face. “Oh. Sorry. You were just acting so weird, and then you flew out the window and when I saw him here with his hand - look, I’m sorry.” Luce made a disgusted noise and ran his fingers roughly through his hair.
“It’s all right,” Greg said quietly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
They both stared at their hands.
“Why are - why are you mad at me?” Luce asked hesitantly, touching Greg’s hand.
“I’m not,” Greg said, and realized it was true.
He was just happy to have Luce here and not Arvel. He decided that when the time came for Luce to ask him to leave, he’d deal with it. For now . . . for now he had this friendship. He had this beautiful, noble phoenix who didn’t know how much Greg needed him, but came to his rescue anyway; he had someone who was worried about him; he had a friend.
Greg could live with things this way, until they ended. He could.
Luce frowned. “Then what was all that -“
“Nothing,” Greg cut him off. “Blame it on the moon and not feeding properly. I don’t know, blame it on getting stabbed fifty-two times in the leg today by a homicidal Cupid or having another trap spell blow up in my face. I was just in a foul mood.”
After a moment, Luce said quietly, like the words hurt him: “I’ve been asking a lot of you. You’ve helped a lot already. If you’re getting - if you want to get out of here, I’d understand.”
Greg’s throat tightened. Don’t tell me to go, he begged silently. Not yet. “No,” Greg said. “I simply can’t be as sunshiney as you all the time.”
Luce smiled weakly. “Remind me the next time you need a mental health break. I was afraid you were gonna take off for good or something.”
“Not for a while,” Greg said.
They locked eyes; Luce was the first to look away. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Hell,” Greg said. “Why not? My evil ex-boyfriend just chatted me up. I could use something strong.”
“Yeah,” Luce said, and his grin was closer to normal. “And I hear you’ve got an auction coming up in, oh, three days.”
Greg groaned. “Don’t remind me. I even had to take my old tuxedo out of the mausoleum and have it pressed.”
“I’ll buy you a double,” Luce said sympathetically, skimming his hand over Greg’s shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze; it reminded Greg of the way Arvel had touched him.
But it felt much better when Luce did it.
----
Part Fourteen