Chapter Ten

"If I were a doctor and you were my patient, I would've just straight up killed you."

I rolled my eyes as I slipped a long sleeved black shirt over my head, yanking it down and tucking it into the waistband of my jeans. Behind me, Rowan was standing across the room, leaning against the wall by the bathroom with his arms folded over his chest. I still had no idea why he was here in Styx, but it was pretty obvious that he was here to stalk me on behalf of Viviana, if not to get the books back.

"You had your chance," I reminded as I picked up my jacket and shrugged it on, "Why didn't you take it?" After all, he found me flopped in the grime of an alleyway. He didn't even need to do much. He could've just given me a good kick the ribs and I would've been out of commission. Instead, the bastard had picked me up and carried me back to the hospital, and had become my only visitor for three days.

"Call me masochistic," Rowan responded. I glanced over at him, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking out the window at the city of Styx that lay splayed out below. I followed his gaze. The city was alive this morning with the sound of music, the smell of fast food wafting through the air combined with cigarette smoke from nurses on their breaks, people filing out of apartment complexes and businesses. It was a bustling Saturday morning in Styx. Fresh into summer, everyone was sporting tank tops, shorts, short shorts, shorty short shorts that were really just underwear with a classier name, filmy dresses, straight up bathing suits.

"So," Rowan asked, coming over to stand by me where I stood at the window, frowning at the city below, "Where you off to now? Somehow I doubt Alaric is going to take you back into the house." I didn't look at him, even though I felt his eyes on me. He seemed surprisingly perturbed by the argument with Alaric, and the declaration that we were no longer going to see one another. Made by Alaric, who sent Raven on his behalf. How weird for a shadow, the enemy of all people, to be worried about my love life.

"What're you talking about," I asked, turning away from the window and straightening my jacket, "You have a place here in Styx, right?" Rowan looked at me, raising an eyebrow as he followed me to the door.

"I do. What makes you think I'm going to let you stay there? You might try to kill me in my sleep."

"Oh, please. I'm a tit for tat kinda guy. You save my life, I won't take yours."

"Hmm." Rowan didn't elaborate. He also didn't argue. He just followed me down to the nurse's station, where I had to sit through another round of you can't leave. We highly recommend you stay for further treatments. But your prescriptions. No thanks. Not interested. I'm feeling good as new. Nice Bugs Bunny scrubs. Finally fed up with my deflections, the nurse slammed the clipboard down in front of me to sign myself out against medical recommendation. I flashed her a smile and she snatched it back, giving me a dirty look.

I turned and strolled out of the hospital with Rowan following me into the street. I turned to look at him in silence and he sighed before he turned down a street and led me in the direction of his house. He knew I wasn't going to kill him. He was irritated about the intrusion for another reason.

"Don't like company?" I asked as we walked. Rowan glanced at me, then looked away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

"As long as you don't act like my other house guest," he answered. I looked at him curiously, but he didn't explain himself. He just walked on in silence. We swept through the business district into the shopping district, then came up into the north side of the city. The north side, in a nutshell, was the wealthy side. Nice big houses, small green yards, mostly families of four who went to private schools and worked in the business district.

Rowan led the way up a sleek stone walkway to a two-story white classic home crammed in between a rosy pink house and an identical white one. It looked so natural, so conformist. He didn't stand out in the least, especially given that he dressed like a classy fella. He shoved a key in the lock of the black door and opened the way into a neat kempt house made with honey wood floor and white paneled walls. Classic furniture with a touch of modern decor in the form of sleek black vases and books and little statues.

What stood out, however, was the reeking stench of skunk, or maybe BO. I immediately wrinkled my nose at the smell and Rowan passed me an apologetic stare before he led the way into the living room to the right. My eyes widened at the man sprawled out on the sofa.

"Simon?" I asked. I was wondering what happened to him. I swore I saw him among the shadows the beast had torn up back in Viviana's realm. Apparently he'd recovered, and he'd recovered well. He looked completely untouched, and relaxed as ever. He was decked out in a black wife beater tank and tight black jeans, a joint in his hand and drawn to his lips. He took a drag, recognized me through the cloud of smoke, then put it in the glass ashtray on the coffee table. He heaved himself up from the sofa and held his hand out to me.

Without thinking about it, I took his hand and pulled him in for a half hug. He patted me on the back, then stepped back to look me over.

"You know, that shit comes in brownies too," I said, nudging my head in the direction of the joint. Simon shrugged, taking a step back and plopping down on the sofa again so he could pick the joint up and bring it to his lips again. I rolled my eyes, waving a hand in my face to disperse the smoke.

"I thought you were dead," I added. Simon glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought you were dead," he said, and when I looked at him curiously, he nodded, "Hell yeah, man. I wasn't doing so hot myself, but I was lucid enough to see that thing getting all up on you. He totally ripped into your throat, man. I thought the blood was never going to stop." My throat tingled at his description and I reached up to touch my neck, brushing my fingers over the skin, feeling for scars, but there was absolutely nothing.

"He attacked me?" I asked. Simon nodded.

"Attacked is putting it lightly. He totally cut you open. Thought you were a goner. I passed out after that, so I have no idea what happened. I woke up and hitched a ride back with Rowan so I could rest up and recharge. Been hanging out here ever since. Swore you were dead, though. Good to see you're up and kicking," he explained. I shifted a little uncomfortably. I didn't remember any of that. I vaguely remembered the beast getting in my face, feeling that hot breath on my face... on my throat. The stench of sweet black blood. Those red eyes. Those fangs, fuck, they were huge, they were parted, smeared with blood, gleaming.

Fuck.

"Stanton, sit down," Rowan's voice dragged me back and it took me a full moment to realize I was hyperventilating. For once, I didn't argue as I plopped down on the sofa beside Simon, who sat up with a frown. He handed me a joint, but I shook my head. He sighed and Rowan looked at him.

"I have brownie mix in the kitchen," he said, making Simon raise an eyebrow, "Get baking. I'm gonna stay here with him." Simon groaned, but got up anyway, taking his ashtray and his joint with him into the kitchen. Rowan sat down on the coffee table in front of me.

"Stanton, you're alright," he said gently, "Calm down. Take a big deep breath with me." I watched him inhale and struggled to inhale with him. My lungs hurt, my ribs expanding with them, as I fought to get my breath. My temples were throbbing, and my neck was tingling, like there were a thousand little needles inside me. I reached up for my throat, but Rowan caught my hand and lowered it.

"It's fine, Stanton. You're safe."

"I can't breath--"

"Yes, you can. Just take a big deep breath."

"He tried to kill me--"

"The beast tried to kill you," Rowan corrected, and I looked up at him in confusion, "The beast hurt you, Stanton. Not Xiphrus. They are separate creatures. They just share the same body."

"And the same soul," I managed breathlessly, gripping my knees hard as my chest ached and I leaned forward, feeling like I was going to puke, "Stop trying to justify it, goddamn it! How many fucking times do I have to tell people that he's a monster? Jesus Christ, it's like no one is listening to me!" Holy shit, my chest hurt. Was this a heart attack? It fucking felt like it.

"Alright, alright," Rowan said, somehow still managing to be calm, "Stanton, I understand. Trauma is not something you can just get over. I'm sorry you dealt with this, especially for so long--"

"Stop patronizing me!"

"I'm not," Rowan responded sternly, and I looked up to meet his eyes, black eyes that gleamed in the light and for a split second, I swore they were green, "I would never patronize you. I respect you too much for that. Nor do I pity you. I want you to recognize what is happening to you. You are hyperventilating because you're on the verge of a panic attack. Your heart is bad, Stanton. It can't handle this kind of strain. So. Once again, take a big deep breath with me." I took deep breathes with him, and it helped, but not too much. My body still tingled and I felt phantom pains in my neck and stomach, in my chest and my back.

It made me wonder how much Xiphrus had torn me up. I didn't remember any of it. Was the trauma of it just so intense my memory decided nope let's pretend it didn't happen? How far had he gone? What made him stop? Had someone stopped him? Who? Or did he just get bored?

I shuddered and put my head between my knees because I didn't trust myself to not get sick at the thought. Rowan did as he promised and sat right there with me the entire time. He managed to get me breathing properly, but I still felt sick with dread. A few minutes later, I could smell chocolate. The brownies.

I glanced up as Simon came into the room with a pan of pot brownies, pushing them onto the table. Rowan nodded his thanks, then looked at me. I didn't hear what he said. I just needed to feel calm. I was tired of feeling wound up, tired of panicking, tired of feeling weak. I took a brownie from the tray and shoved it in my mouth, the chocolatey goodness sticking to the roof of my mouth before I sucked it down and went for another one.

Meanwhile, Simon sat down and pulled a paper off a stack on the table, rolling up another joint while Rowan stood up and sighed, looking down at his us with his arms folded over his chest. It didn't take long for the weed to hit me. Three brownies and I could finally breath again. I sank back on the sofa, reaching up to rake a hand through my hair. The pain in my chest faded and ebbed away from my limbs and stomach and head. My muscle tension eased up and my body loosened up to where I felt like I was floating, but also too heavy to get up and go anywhere.

"Well," Rowan decided, looking back and forth between Simon and I, "As long as you control your intake. I won't have you mooching off me."

"You want me to pay rent?" I asked dryly. How long did he think I was sticking around for? I was supposed to be starting the rest of my life alone. And yet, I couldn't find it in me to get up and leave, or make excuses. I just stared at Rowan, who raised an eyebrow.

"You can't even pay attention right now, let alone rent," he responded, making Simon burst out laughing. I smirked, then sighed and kicked my boots off, putting my feet up on the coffee table and folding my hands behind my head. Rowan's eyes flickered at that, almost like he was enjoying the view, and I cocked a brow, stretching my arms up over my head.

"You gonna ask me to pay with my body?" I asked.

"Are you offering now?" Simon asked. I rolled my eyes and elbowed him and he laughed while Rowan shook his head.

"Seems you two won't cause too much trouble. If you don't mind, I have an errand to run. Think you can stay here until I get back, or should I get child safety locks on the doors?" He asked. Simon and I looked at each other, both asking silently is he joking. Rowan didn't lecture us any further and picked up some of the shit on the table, threw it out, gave us one last evil eye, then walked out of the house, twisting the locks into place.

"I'm starting to think he doesn't trust us," I muttered, reaching for another brownie. Simon whacked me on the hand and I looked at him in disbelief.

"Too much of that shit at once and you're gonna end up eating the pillow thinking its a cheeseburger."

"Speaking of which, shit, I am starving. You guys got any burgers?"

"Do we look like McDonalds?"

"No, but how about pizza?" I asked. Simon paused for a while, then took out his cell phone. I sat up, relieved as he dialed the nearest pizza place and ordered a couple pizzas.

"No," I said, correcting his order, "Six. Six pizzas. Two meat lovers, a supreme, and the rest cheese."

"I want one that's pineapple."

"Pineapple? That shit don't belong on pizza."

"It belongs on my pizza, you little fuck. You wanna fight about it?" Simon demanded. I was tempted to take him up on the offer, until we realized the phone was still on and the person on the other end was asking what the hell was going on. I sat back as Simon went back to ordering, including his nasty pineapple monstrosity. I twisted on the sofa until I propped my feet up on Simon's lap and he kept shoving at them, but eventually gave up as he finished the cell. He tossed his phone on the table, then plucked a remote up and started to channel surf.

"Wait," I snapped when he landed on the channel with my favorite reality show, "Stay on this one. I like this one."

"What? It's crap. Just a bunch of hoes trying to find their baby daddys."

"Yeah, but I like the shouting. It calms me." That was kind of the truth, but not because of the show itself. It was mostly because it reminded me of the days back when Alaric and I would sit in front of the television with take-out, laughing and shouting at the people on the show. We'd take commercial breaks to talk about our days, to cuddle. He was great at cuddling. He snuggled right up against me, wrapped his arms around me, kissing at the underside of my chin, my neck, my ears.

"Fuck," I murmured, rubbing at my neck.

"What?" Simon asked, watching the show and taking a bite of a brownie.

"Ah... Nothing. Just... Cold."

"It's like ninety-six degrees outside."

"Yeah, but Rowan has his air conditioning up too-- Fuck you, Simon."

"I mean, if you insist," Simon offered. I glared at him and kicked him in the arm. He laughed and finished off his brownie. A couple minutes later, the doorbell rang. Simon went to get up, but I pushed him back down so I could get answer the door first. He just threw his hands up in the air, then leaned forward and patted the sofa excitedly. I shook my head and went to the door, opening it up to reveal a tiny little imp with six boxes piled up in his arms, a big smile on his face. Somehow, it ended up making me smile too.

Wow, he was small and cute. Like a little... well, like an imp, but like not the creature imp. Just the looks. But then he was an imp too... Shit, I was going somewhere with that.

I took out my credit card and let him swipe it on the little device strapped onto his phone. He nodded his thanks, handed over the pizzas, and I went inside, shutting and locking up again. I went into the living room and sat down, dropping the pizzas on the coffee table. Simon immediately took his box of pizza, shoving a piece in his mouth and grabbing another couple in one hand while balancing his joint in the other.

"So, should you be eating this shit if your heart is on the decline?" He asked, munching on a piece while resting the other two on his chest while he sprawled out so his head was leaning on a pillow up against my knees. I shrugged, sucking a string of greasy cheese off the slice.

"What's it gonna do? Kill me?"

"That would be a shitty way to die. You're the almighty Death and died of heart disease."

"You know a shitty way to die?"

"No, what?"

"Literally having Death kill you."

"You threatening me?"

"I dunno," I responded honestly, immediately forgetting what we were talking about, and Simon laughed at that, then handed me a slice of pizza with pineapple on it, making me cringe away from it, "Get that heathen ass pie out of my face."

"Eat one slice. You'll never regret it," Simon said, waving the piece in my face, but I turned my face away. He rolled over and climbed over my knees, trying to get the damn thing in my face. I laughed, shoving him onto the floor, then leaning over to look at him, only for him to shove the pizza in my mouth. I choked, spitting it out on him and he cursed, reaching up to punch me in the face, but I rolled back onto the sofa out of his way. He shot up and whipped his shirt off, throwing it across the room before stalking over to plop on the sofa again.

"Your pizza taste like balls," I told him as he got settled on the sofa again. He rolled his eyes, then changed the channel. I wanted to be upset about it, but for once, I didn't care. He changed the channel to some music video station and Eminem's Real Slim Shady music video was halfway through. He started to change it again, but I caught his wrist and yanked the remote from him. He didn't bother putting up a fight this time and went back to eating his pizza.

"You know what I hate," Simon said as he watched the music video play out while popping the last piece of his pizza in his mouth.

"What?" I asked, not particularly caring. I felt too chill to be annoyed with him, to be angry with the whole situation of living with the enemy, of Alaric leaving me, something about a hospital, something about Xiphrus. Damn, I should've done this stuff a long time ago. Would've made dealing with everything so much easier. I just didn't want to have my head fucked up if I had to get into a fight... Oh yeah, and smoke. Gross.

"Blueberries," Simon said, and I looked at him, confused, "No, I mean, really. Have you ever seen a blueberry? They look so gross and taste like sour milk."

"I... Uh, yeah, I guess."

"You know what tastes good, though?"

"What?"

"Pussy," Simon deadpanned and I burst out laughing, throwing my head back against the arm of the chair, amazed that he went from zero to a hundred in a split second, and Simon laughed back at me, "No, man, for real. I know you're into dick and all that shit, but if there's one thing I could live on, it would be females. I had a prostitute the other night... oh shit, I forgot her name. Anyway, she was real smart too. Knew exactly what she was doing, a real pro. You ever sleep with a prostitute?"

"Once. Big mistake."

"How so?"

"She bit me."

"Did you ask her to?"

"I don't remember. You gonna eat that last brownie?"

"Nah, you take it. You're probably still feeling like shit," Simon murmured, taking a bite of pizza. I nodded, taking the last brownie and munching on it as I cranked up the volume on the television when the song changed to Warner Chappell's Ball Hard began to play. I bobbed my head to the music, chewing up the chocolate, savoring the strong flavor on my tongue. I chewed it so long it turned to liquid and slid down my throat nice and smooth, joining the six pieces of pizza I'd eaten without even realizing it until I reached for another piece and the pizza was gone.

Or was it eight pieces?

I shook my head and just moved onto the next pizza.

"That was some scary shit," Simon said after a moment, making me glance at him before looking down at the pizza in my hand, admiring the bright red marinara sauce, "I heard about the beasts. Powerful, scary shits. Never seen one actually go into action." I looked up at the music video, taking a slow bite of pizza.

"Mm, I've seen it plenty of times," I answered, relieved my heart wasn't racing and I wasn't panicking just by discussing the whole thing, "I was there when he first freaked the fuck out and destroyed the universe basically. You know, Atlan and shit... Your dad ever do something shitty?"

"Not really," Simon said with a shrug, pausing to look at his hand, turning it over a few times before looking up, "He used to play pranks on me and my sister for shits and giggles when we were kids. He wasn't so bad."

"That's cool," I murmured, "Xiphrus used to get me books."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Read all the ones that were around at that time... I like birds."

"Like, bird birds?"

"Are there any other fucking kind?"

"Nah, man, just wanted to make sure. So you like birds?"

"Yeah. I like crows. They're so goddamn smart, man. Did you know they recognize faces? If you fuck one of them up, they'll go tell the rest of their group, they're called murders--"

"No shit?"

"Real shit. They go back and they'll snitch on you. The whole family will come and fuck you up. Never piss off a crow. And did you know they mate for life? Like, forever? They're committed, loyal. Not even we can do that, and we're supernatural," I muttered, looking down at my hands before looking up to see that Simon had shifted on the sofa and was looking at me intently, draping his arm across the back of the sofa. He leaned in close and I leaned in, wondering what the heck we were doing this for since we were the only two guys in the house.

"You gotta have faith," he said, and I tsked and rolled my eyes, but he grabbed me and I looked him, alarmed at the rough grip, but his expression wasn't angry or anything, he just looked really serious, "I mean it, Stanton. Stan. Stanley."

"Stanton."

"Right. Stanton. I mean it. In order for that ever after shit to work, you gotta have faith. Faith in your partner. That dude you married to? He gives a shit."

"Oh, please. He left. He didn't come back. He sent his own brother to confirm we weren't going to talk. He's probably drawing up divorce papers right now--"

"Don't be stupid," Simon exclaimed, shoving at me, "Don't let him get away. The whole time you were at the mansion, you were flipping your shit about him. I heard you that day, when you were on the phone. You were scared. You wanted to see him again. You didn't trust anyone else. You coulda called anyone else. You coulda called for help, but instead, you called him. You freaked out about him. You whacked me over the damn head with that phone. Pretty sure you were about to cry."

"Okay, I was not going to cry, so fuck you, alright? And second, doesn't fucking matter how I feel. He doesn't want this relationship. He's always asking me for things I don't want."

"Like what?"

"He wants a dog."

"So get a dog."

"No, they die too quickly."

"Hellhounds live for literally a thousand years."

"He wants a mortal breed. And he wants a white picket fence and kids and a family and I just," I paused to take a deep breath, then shook my head, "And I don't want any of that. I don't want a white picket fence. I don't want a mortal dog. I don't want kids. And I don't want a family." Simon gave me a doubtful stare and I glared at him.

"Done talking. Not high enough to discuss anything else. Wanna do me a favor and show me to a room? I haven't slept well the past few nights and I'm about ready to pass the fuck out," I muttered. Simon nodded and heaved himself to his feet, swaying for a split second before he gestured for me to follow. I trudged after him, yawning widely and stretching. We went up the stairs and he led me to a bedroom with a nice fluffy double bed. Everything was decorated in a beautiful white and blue color scheme with undertones of gray. It felt relaxing.

I went right to the bed and flopped over on my face, moaning as my face came in contact with the soft satin sheets and pillows. I rolled over, spreading out and practically making a snow angel in the sheets. So, like, a sheet angel. Yeah.

"Better than a hospital bed?"

"Ah yeah," I groaned, then rolled over and hauled a pillow up against my chest, then breathed out a sigh, "I'm just gonna rest for a bit. Stay outta my room." Simon rolled his eyes and shut the lights off.

"Ight. Do me a favor? Don't jump out any windows or cry. I don't wanna deal with that shit," he added, then shut the door. I laughed softly against the pillow as I held it close, my eyelids drifting shut. As they slid shut, my vision blurred and I laughed some more, feeling the pillow get wet beneath my face.

"I'm not gonna cry, jackass," I mumbled before my eyes fell shut and I was out like a damn light. And thank the goddamn Fates I didn't dream or have nightmares. For once, my sleep was deep and dreamless and peaceful. I felt like I was floating on a thick fluffy cloud all night as I slept. And yet, somehow, there was still something missing. I rolled over in the night a few times, throwing my arm out to grab something and pull it toward me, but it was always the same damn pillow.

I was so used to sleeping next to someone.

Sleeping next to Alaric.

And this was how it was going to be for the rest of eternity. Reaching out across a bed with only a pillow to fill the empty space. It felt weird. A sense of nostalgia washed over me, and not the good kind that I got from listening to N.W.A or Eminem. It was just the sense of emptiness. I lived with it every single day of my life before I met Alaric. Even after I met him, I dreamt of what it would feel like to sleep beside him. And when he was finally beside me, I didn't want to let him go. Even when he woke up early for work. I just wanted to hold him in my arms.

He fit so perfectly there. Like my arms were made just for him and no one else... He was so warm, so soft. Everything else around me was soaked in blood and misery, but not Alaric. Whenever I came home and the death got to be too much, Alaric was always there laying in bed, peaceful and asleep, waiting for me to come home. He was the only pure thing I had in my life.

I woke up the next morning feeling empty. I stared up at the ceiling of the guest room in Rowan's house, studying the white crown moulding, the sleek sage colored walls. It reminded me of home. I wanted to go back home. It was a physical ache in my chest for a moment, but I blinked quickly and refocused.

Right. No more home. No time to lay here and feel pathetic. I had to get those books back. Now if only I knew where they were and where to start looking.

Joxeia, my instincts told me. No doubt Joxeia had them in his possession. If the books were out of Viviana's realm, they were with the only person who could translate them perfectly. Of course, something told me Joxeia was about as likely to hand them over as a dog with a meaty steak.

I frowned and reached into the pocket of my jeans, fishing around for a small scrap of paper. I took it out and held it up over my head to study the name and information on it. Written in Hades's scratchy handwriting that looked like something out of a horror movie, Joxeia's name and the location of his office and the hours he served clients.

Somehow, I found all of that hilarious. Of all the people to be a therapist. Joxeia sure liked helping people now. Back then? I couldn't even get him to look at me after Xiphrus was gone. He sat there like a statue, not listening to me, not coming forward to hug me or anything. He just stared right through me like I didn't exist. I'd gone to find him again after I finally left the paradise realm, but according to rumors, Joxeia was on his own path of self-destruction and the only thing I could think at the time was... Good. Now he knew how I felt.

Joxeia being a therapist was bullshit. His altruistic tendencies stemmed from his guilt. He was guilty because he couldn't help Xiphrus. He devoted his life to trying to help other people. Well, only certain other people. He was picky about who he helped and how. He used to just fuck them a few times and suddenly they were cured.

Talk about an ego boost.

You know what can solve all of your problems? My dick.

I laughed at that. He should make business cards with that as his slogan. I crumpled the paper up and stuffed it back into my pocket. I rolled over and climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom to splash my face with water. I reached up to the medicine cabinet to investigate what sort of supplies Rowan stocked his guest rooms, but I whacked myself in the nose and cursed, closing it again.

I rubbed at my face. What a great start to the morning.

I looked up to inspect my nose, only to go absolutely still. Instead of a rivulet of bright red blood sliding out of my nose, over my lips, down my chin, and into the sink below... it was a stream of black oily blood. I couldn't move as I stared at the droplet, watching it ride over my lips, drip into the sink. It gleamed with the rainbow shine of gasoline in a gas station parking lot.

I reached up slowly to touch the stream, then drew my hand back to study the black blood. I could smell the faintest tinge of sweetness. It wasn't nearly as overpowering as that of Rowan or Simon... Did that mean I wasn't entirely infected? Was I partially infected? That could happen.

Xiphrus had been infected. He cured himself, though. How did he do that?

The power of dick is strong.

I found myself smirking as I looked down at the sink, watching the black blood flow. I reached up and pinched my nostrils shut, closing my eyes as I felt the damage heal itself up on its own. I sighed.

Well. Whatever. It sucked. But that didn't mean I was Viviana's bitch. I just had a cold. A shadow cold. Not the full on cancer. I was fine.

Not wanting to see anymore of that black goo, I stripped down and climbed into the shower, washing myself down. Rowan had some pretty pansy ass soaps and shampoos, so I opted out of the vintage man musk scents and floral soaps, using straight up water. Once finished, I stepped out and dried off with the towel. I summoned a pair of jeans and a black tank, sitting on the edge of the bed to yank my boots on. I stood up and went to the door to draw it open a crack, but stopped moving when I heard voices down the hall.

I frowned, leaning my ear in against the crack in the door to listen.

"... don't like doing this," Simon's voice was saying, "I don't want to have a part in this." There was an elongated sigh from Rowan, the one he used when he was tired of lecturing people who didn't listen to him or his advice.

"It's too late for that. We've already begun. You knew what you were signing up for."

"No, no, I fucking did not. I did not sign up to be a manipulative prick. I actually like the guy, Ro. He's got a really shitty set of cards right now and we're not helping."

"Yes, we are. Look, just trust me, Simon. I... I have also grown rather attached to him as well. I mean him, nor you, any harm. Should it come to that, I will stop it. But right now, we also have a job to do. Do it correctly, or you can return back to the mansion."

"I'd rather bite my own tongue off than go back to that shithole. Once we're done here, that's it. I'm going rogue."

"Best of luck with that then. You've seen how it turns out for us when we decide to go against her. Ask Diablo. Or rather, you can't, because he's trapped in eternal damnation. Now, if you're done whining, go get him. I heard him get in the shower a minute ago. He's going to need something to eat if he plans to do something about Viviana."

"I'm not your servant, Ro."

"True. You just cook better than I do."

"Asshole."

"I've been called worse."

I raised an eyebrow at the odd conversation. Sounded like they were talking about me. And here I thought I was irritating to both of them. It didn't sound like there was a plot to kill me going on. It sounded more like they were arguing, not with each other, but with the job assigned to them, no doubt from Viviana. So what was their job? Clearly not to kill me, or bring me back to Viviana. Was I right about the books?

I stepped out just as Simon was coming out of Rowan's room. He pulled up short when he saw me. He was freshly shaven, smelled like patchouli and mint, and was decked out in black leather pants and a blue tank under a short sleeved plaid shirt. He lifted his hand in a wave and I mimicked the gesture, then yawned and stretched my arms over my head.

"I'm starving. What we got to eat?" I asked, lowering my arms as I headed to the stairs with Simon right behind me.

"If you ask for pancakes, I will cut you," Simon deadpanned. I smirked back at him as we made our way down the stairs. Just when Simon stepped off the last step, I grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall, conjuring a dagger and raising it up to his throat, making him go still with a sharp intake of breath. Overhead, I could feel Rowan's footfalls until he appeared at the top of the stairs, decked out as savvy as ever. He froze, staring down at me as I held the blade to Simon's throat.

"Alright," I said slowly, "Let's do me a favor. First of all, I want confirmation. You guys infected me. Yes, or no? Wrong answer, and I might accidentally cut something important." Simon gritted his teeth and glanced up at Rowan, who pursed his lips for a moment before speaking.

"We do not infect people, Stanton. That's not how it works. Everyone is already infected. The darkness is just drawn to those of us who have the strongest darkness inside us. Your soul is festering with it and it pulled the darkness to it. We did nothing. No one did."

"Bullshit," I snapped, pressing the blade to Simon's throat, watching as a stream of black blood ran from his throat and down the front of his shirt, "I've always felt shitty. Why is it suddenly happening to me now?"

"Because you're being tested and you're failing," Rowan said carefully, making me frown, "Viviana sensed the darkness in you. We all did. But she's the one who wanted to see how deep it went. But in the end, it was your own darkness, your own hatred, that infected you. The hatred you have for your father, for your family, is so intense that the darkness is feeding on it. It's like feeding a cow to a pool of piranhas." I glared up at him for a while, trying to discern whether or not he was lying to me, but his hard stare was sincere.

And it made sense, from what I'd learned about these shadows thus far. Still, it infuriated me that now instead of nice clean red, I was polluted with this disgusting black shit. I looked back at Simon, who narrowed his eyes on me.

I'd ask what they were planning, these two, but somehow I doubted they would tell me, even if I cut Simon's throat. He was immortal, as he'd well proven after coming back from Xiphrus's attack. And then something occurred to me, making me blink and step back, looking up at Rowan.

"The only reason I survived Xiphrus's attack," I said, making his lips press into a thin line, "It's because I'm a shadow now, isn't it? If I hadn't been turned, he would've killed me." Rowan didn't say anything, just gave me a firm nod. I looked back at Simon, who averted his eyes. So he knew about it too. No wonder he didn't seem too shocked when I showed up. They knew from the very beginning I was infected.

And without it, I would be dead right now.

Xiphrus would've killed me.

And I'd been saved from the darkness inside me, in some sick roundabout kind of way.

"Heh," I laughed a little, poofing my dagger away and making Simon looked at me oddly, "So I guess I should be a little thankful then, huh? Too bad I'm still not Viviana's biggest fan." Simon muttered something along the lines of same here, and I glanced up at Rowan. He still wasn't speaking. He looked stressed out, like he didn't like where this was going, not that I cared. I looked back at Simon.

"So how about breakfast? I'm in a mood for bacon," I said. Simon nodded and Rowan cleared his throat, making us look up at him.

"Not bacon," Rowan said, making me scowl, "It's not good for your heart. Simon, I have oatmeal down in the cupboard and some eggs. Make him an omelette and oatmeal with fruit."

"Aw come on, what are you, my fucking mother?" I demanded, putting a hand on my hip. Rowan ignored me and went back to his room, shutting the door. Simon sighed, giving me a helpless shrug like it was out of his hands. I rolled my eyes and followed him into the kitchen. I hopped up and sat on a sleek quartz countertop while Simon got to work on breakfast. I stole an orange out of the bowl sitting on the small table in the corner of the kitchen, peeling it up with my fingernails while I watched Simon work.

"So, not ready to go back and see your evil bitchress?" I asked. Simon snorted as he mixed up the eggs and started the oatmeal. It was almost funny to see a big huge black guy trying to cook in this tiny kitchen. Even the big pan in his hand looked too small in comparison.

"Hell no," Simon responded, adjusting the heat on the stove and cracking open a few eggs with a single hand, "Just because I'm a shadow doesn't mean I worship the ground she walks on, man. Not all of us give a shit about her end game. Some of us just... have nowhere else to go."

"So, you're Nigerian," I said and Simon nodded as he poured a bit of milk in with the eggs, "You telling me you don't have a home to go back to there?" Simon shook his head as he mixed the eggs and milk before pouring them into a ceramic pan.

"After my dad died, it was just me and my sister. We never got along. She went one way, I went the other. And when she died, I really didn't have any reason to stay there. I left the mortal realm and came to Styx for a while."

"Sucks."

"You don't know the half of it," Simon muttered. I frowned, peeling off a small slice of orange and popping it in my mouth, watching Simon work the stove. When everything was done, he shut it off and got to work plating everything. Somehow, he managed to make it look damn good, even though it was just an in-house meal. He handed me a plate and I took it with a nod. He leaned back against the counter to eat his own plate.

"Xiphrus killed all of my siblings," I said out of the blue, not entirely sure why I was telling him this, and Simon looked up at me, pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth, only for him to lower it with a frown, "I had quite a few brothers and sisters. I don't like thinking about them. Kind of gives me nightmares... How old was your sister?" Simon looked down at his plate as I took a mouthful of eggs and tried not to moan at how good they were. And I'd sat there watching him make it, he didn't do anything special, he just made them damn good.

"Twenty-eight," Simon replied, stirring his oatmeal around before licking it off his spoon, "What about your sibs?"

"Eh, a few years old. The youngest was about ten days old."

"Shit."

"They weren't children," I reminded him, "We were created as adults. Most of us. I looked like a gross snotty teenager." Simon smirked at that as he took a bite of his eggs.

"I can't imagine you looking pimple-faced with braces."

"I wasn't that gross. I was just like the clingy overly obsessed girlfriend. Except with everyone."

"You were new to the world. When my sister was born, she needed to be constantly held. If she wasn't, she'd go into a screaming fit. She especially liked to be held by me."

"Thought you guys never got along."

"Not once she learned how to talk and never shut up. She always wanted to go out and do things and I just wasn't into it. I wanted to stay in our little town, take my fill of the locals, then go to sleep. She wanted to go on stupid adventures. She had this dream of going to France and joining the fashion industry, which obviously was a no-go for her. We're incubi, succubi. We're not allowed to draw attention to ourselves. It makes it harder for us to feed. And once the mortals realize you don't age, they tend to get a little suspicious."

"Tell me about it. Lost quite a few friends because I had to fake my death."

"Death faking his death."

"Trust me, the irony is not lost on me," I muttered, then paused to look at the cut that was healing up on Simon's neck, then I looked down at my food, "Oh, and, ah... About the neck thing..."

"No problem. I was waiting for it sooner or later. If you hadn't done it at all, I would've been disappointed. I don't like having stupid friends."

"Yeah." I didn't really know what else to say to that. Stupid friends, he says. As if we were friends. I wanted to be annoyed with that, maybe even disgusted because he was the enemy, but I was only trying to lie to myself. I liked Simon. I liked Rowan too. Maybe in another life, we could've hung out at bars, maybe shared a house like we were right now. Would've been nice. Maybe it would've kept me from sinking into this loneliness... this darkness.

And honestly, now that I thought about it, I could feel it. I could feel the coldness in my veins. I'd blamed it on Rowan's air conditioning, but that was bull, especially now that I knew the truth. The darkness was flowing through my veins like a potent poison. I wondered if that was why I broke things off with Alaric.

I looked up at Simon.

"Viviana mentioned you were going to get married," I said. Simon stopped in mid-chew, then chewed slowly before he swallowed. He cleared his throat and gave a nod. I watched the strain in his movements. Like it pained him to talk about it.

"What was her name?" I asked, unable to stop myself from asking. I had to know. Or maybe, more like I needed to know. I wasn't even sure why.

"Omolola," Simon answered softly.

"Was she beautiful?"

"The most beautiful mortal I'd ever met."

"Mortal?"

"Yeah," Simon looked uncomfortable as he stared down at the plate, "She was a woman. She was unlike any other at the time. She was very loud, very outspoken. She didn't let anyone treat her like garbage. Men used to tease her and catcall her. One day, I was standing with a group of men who were calling out to her. She took her shoe off and whacked me over the head with it. The men wanted to beat her for it, but I couldn't stop laughing. She was this tiny little African woman, barely came up to my chest, beating me with a shoe and telling me I was a pig. I fell in love with her."

"She sounds like she was real feisty."

"Oh yeah. She... She was. She was amazing."

"Did she know you weren't human?"

"No. I didn't want to tell her. I didn't want her to find out I was visiting her in the night while she slept either. I came to her as an incubus, but in her dreams. She started to love me then, and she would come to see me every day in the market. She wasn't very honest about how she felt when she was awake. She still hit me with her shoe or told me to go get hit by a bus whenever I said something inappropriate, but at night, she'd tell me how much she loved me and how handsome I was. Shit like that."

"So you decided to get married?"

"I asked her father and he agreed. My dad was pretty well known in town. He'd gone to the States, studied as a doctor, and came back to help the people we grew up with. Marrying the son of a doctor was pretty good. So he let me marry her. Or at least, that's how it was supposed to go."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," Simon murmured, lowering his plate as if he were losing his appetite, "She died outside the church. Some woman I used to visit in town found out we were getting married. I'd had to stop sleeping with her because it was literally driving her insane." That made sense. Incubi and succubi had to be careful with their victims, particularly mortals. Too often and they would become addicted to the incubi or succubi and go mad with hunger for more.

"Anyway," Simon sighed heavily, reaching up to rub a hand on his shaved hand, "She stabbed Omolola thirty-six times before one of my friends called the police. By the time my father got to her, it was too late. She was dead. A reaper showed up, apologized, took her soul, and just left. Just like that." I shook my head. That was hard. I just hoped the reaper treated her gently before he took her to where she belonged. No doubt she was in Heaven's paradise.

Course, telling someone that wasn't really a comfort. Simon didn't want to hear how she was happy dead, without him. And telling him I'm sorry again wasn't going to make it better. So I sat in silence on the counter, not really hungry anymore.

"Yeah, so anyway," Simon continued, "Shortly after that, some assholes came into town, raided everything, and my dad being the idiot he was tried to stand up to him without using his powers and got shot right in the head. By that point, my sister and I were at odds. She living in her fantasy dream world, me just... me. My sister died some time later, got caught in the crossfire during a terrorist attack up in Turkey somewhere trying to help the locals. I decided I'd had enough with mortals and came to Styx."

"That's rough."

"Yeah, well, things are better now. Mostly. Aside from Viviana. Living forever is damn nice. And the immortality extends, by the way," Simon added, making me raise an eyebrow, "You've noticed we're harder to kill than your average immortal. We're also disease free. We don't carry any kind of STIs, mortal or immortal. As an incubi, I'm more susceptible to certain diseases, like malcos and veraleri, but as a shadow, that shit can't touch me. It's nice." Malcos was an incubus restricted disease that caused their genitalia to become infected and eventually that infection could spread to the heart and kill them. Veraleri was basically the cancer of the incubus and succubus world. Cells grew too fast, created tumors limited to the lymph nodes, eventually grew too big, exploded, spread poison through the body. Death was generally the result, that or amputation.

"Nice. Wonder if it helps heart disease," I mused, rubbing at my chest.

"Probably," Simon responded, "Basically, it gives you a whole new lease on life. You become a new person. A newer version of yourself."

"Sounds great. So why is it so bad?"

"Because you're already infected with something worse than all of those diseases combined."

Huh, well, that was one way to put it. We ate a little bit more, but we'd both pretty much talked the appetite right out of each other. We eventually migrated to the living room where Simon turned on the television, which was changed to the news after Rowan had come downstairs to join us.

We sat there, all three of us, Simon and I on the sofa and Rowan on his armchair, watching the news reporter relay the information from the past couple days and this morning. Nothing breaking, nothing catastrophic. Occasionally they'd mention a missing person, who was probably going to be found in the next six or so hours, dead or alive, but more often than not, alive. It felt so normal to just be sitting there with them, like this.

But it made my chest ache again. Alaric and I spent quite a few mornings like this whenever we were both home together. We'd get up, lazily start some breakfast, or on the good mornings, Alaric would make his cinnamon buns and we'd pig out in front of the television. It was more for background noise while we admired each other, even in our disheveled drowsy states.

Alaric was so cute in the morning. His white hair would be sticking up all over the place, like wet chicken feathers, and he'd have trouble holding his eyelids open, his mouth lingering on his food like he wasn't sure if he had the strength to swallow. He'd slurped his coffee. He'd bury his feet under me for warmth, or he'd just straight up flop on top of me on the sofa, putting his arms around me, falling back to sleep.

Goddamn it.

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed at them.

Focus. Focus.

The books. Joxeia probably had them and wasn't going to hand them over. I'd have to get in there somehow... Somehow distract him, take the books, wherever the fuck they were, and get back here to hide out with them. Read them over myself, and find out, for myself, what the fuck those books meant.

Wheel of rebirth? Open the door to the monster. Fresh blood of the first born male. The voice of the winged songbird. The skies of a god. And there was more too. There was so much more. Twelve spokes, so twelve events. What were the other ones? What did they all mean?

Whatever it was, it was important enough for Viviana to have them in a sealed off room. A room she wanted me to get into. Because she didn't send her shadows after us until after we'd gone in, after we'd gone after the statues, which clearly she wanted to protect. Too late for that, bitch, those souls were where they belonged.

"You're going after the books," Rowan said after a while. I didn't say anything at first, just stared at the television. I debated telling him, him and Simon. What was the point in hiding it if they knew? And maybe, just maybe, I could us them to help me out with the books. I'd just make sure to run off with them afterwards so they didn't think about getting them back to Viviana.

"Yeah," I said at last.

"Have you figured out where they are?" Rowan asked. Simon was rolling up a joint on the table again. I rolled my eyes, not looking forward to the rank ass smell of that shit burning. Of course, I wasn't going to bitch about him about it given the talk we'd had in the kitchen. He probably needed it right now, so I said nothing as he flicked his lighter and lit up, taking a deep breath of the stuff and blowing it out through his nostrils as he reclined on the sofa again.

"Yeah," I answered. Rowan glanced at me.

"Not going to tell me because you're afraid I'm going to take them from you?"

"Please. I'm not afraid of you... In fact, I think I'm going to need you."

"How sweet. You're asking for help."

"I'm offering it. Take it or leave it. I can do it with or without you," I responded. Rowan fell silent. He watched the television for a while longer, and when the next commercial break came along, he turned around to face me and I met those black eyes.

"What would you like me to do?" He asked.

I smiled.

Perfect.