"You look different," Julian says, as he opens my passenger-side door and slides in. When I'd arrived to pick him up for our trip to the standing stones, he'd been sitting on the front steps, backpack in hand, like a kid waiting for the school bus, and it makes me feel like a kid too—sneaking around behind my big brother's back.

"What do you mean, 'different'?" I ask, as he tosses his pack in the back seat and I pull away and head back out towards the highway.

"I dunno," he replies, studying me with a frown. "Just... different. Did something good happen?"

"No," I say, a bit defensively. "Nothing happened."

Surely Julian can't tell just by looking at me.

He continues to stare. Then his amethyst eyes narrow, then go wide, and then a slow grin spreads across his face—ear-to-ear, as they say.

"Noah! Did you finally get some red-hot dragon action?"

"Julian!"

"Omigod you did!" He cackles, delighted. "Tell me everything! I bet he's hung, right? I mean, talk about Dragon Ba—"

"Julian!" I shout, face burning. "Before you say another word, please remember that I am driving you to a remote, wooded area where your body will never be found. Ever."

"Fine, fine," he says, only half pretending to pout. "Keep it all to yourself. Never mind the only action I'm getting these days is second hand. But sure—don't share."

"Julian..."

I'd known that not being able to touch his mate was hard for Dane, but I hadn't considered that it might be hard for Julian, too.

"Hey," I say, just barely stopping myself from reaching over and touching him myself, "we'll figure this out, okay? I promise."

He sighs, amusement fading. "I hope so. I mean, I'm not really that desperate, you know, but... I want to get close to Dane without feeling like my skin's on fire—other than in a good way, I mean."

"Yeah. I know."

I turn my attention back to the road, and he says nothing more, just staring out the window with his head resting against his hand.

"You are right, though," I say offhandedly, as I make the turn onto the highway that will take us up into the wild, forest-clad hills.

"About what?" he asks, turning to look at me.

"Ambrose," I say, hiding a smile as I feel my face heat again.

He laughs—that musical sound that makes my breath snag behind my ribs—but when he speaks his words aren't what I expect.

"I'm sorry, Noah. I didn't mean to embarrass you. And it's not like you're wearing a sign that says 'I just got laid, and it was great,' or anything. It's just... It's good to see you looking like something closer to happy, I guess. We've been worried, to be honest."

I glance over at him, unable to hide my surprise. "Really? Is it that... obvious?"

He nods. "I mean, not to everyone. But to me... yeah."

I refocus on the road, and silence settles again. Julian lets it lie, his own attention on the trees skimming by as we wind our way further up into the lonely, wild hills.

A question itches at the back of my tongue, and at last, I voice it, breaking the quiet barrier that's fallen between us.

"Before Dane," I begin tentatively, "were there... many others? I mean, did you have... other relationships?"

I already want to dig a hole and bury myself, but when Julian answers, it doesn't sound like the question bothers him.

"No, not really," he says. "There was... Ian. And before him, a few casual flings. Nothing serious. Why'd you ask?"

I lift a shoulder and clear my throat. "It's just... well... Dane told me—not in detail, or anything—but Dane told me you'd had a bad experience, once."

"Oh. Well, that's true enough," he says.

He doesn't sound angry or affronted, but I hesitate even so, knowing the question must be unwelcome.

"Will you tell me?" I ask.

To my surprise, he answers readily, and without heat, though he turns back to the window as he speaks.

"Sure," he says, "but there's not much to tell. It was the last time I was with Ian. I said 'stop.' He didn't listen. That's all."

Pondering what to say next, I stay quiet, and then I hear Julian gasp.

"Oh, God—Noah. You weren't hurt like that, were you?" he asks.

"What? Oh, no, no," I assure him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

I keep my focus on the road, but I can see him watching me from the corner of my eye.

"It's okay," he says. "You obviously asked for a reason, though, so now I've got to ask. What happened to you? You always burned so bright. Who put that fire out?"

My grip tightens on the wheel, and I don't answer. Julian is easy to talk to, somehow—easier than Ambrose, or even Dane—but it's still hard.

I waver, and another few miles pass in silence before I decide.

Spotting a turnout, I pull off the road, cut the engine, and shut my eyes, knowing I won't be able to drive while I speak.

And then I tell Julian all about Thom.

~ ☾ ~

When at last I come to the end, Julian says nothing. He hadn't interrupted, either, as I spoke. Instead, he'd listened—just letting me talk—as I wove a wandering tale, starting with how excited I'd been to land a job in the languages department of Dr. Thomas Flynn, to how he'd befriended me when I was friendless, to how he'd become something more.

And then, how he'd gradually made me reliant on him, more and more, until I couldn't stand on my own. Finally, how he'd drained me like a spider drains a fly, having used me in nearly every way, and then how he'd discarded me like trash.

Having said it all aloud, I see more clearly than ever what a fool I'd been, and some of my self-loathing resurfaces, bubbling up to stick like tar at the back of my throat.

Julian sees it in my face, and he breaks his silence, then.

"Hey, Noah," he says, "don't you dare think that any of that was your fault. There are monsters in this world, no mistake, and most of them are more human than you or I. You were nothing but honest, and good, and loving—and for that fuckwad to do what he did..."

He shakes his head and bites his lip.

"Christ. I get why you haven't told Dane, though. He'll kill that guy, if you do."

I laugh, my breath catching in my throat. "Yeah. He will."

I keep my eyes fixed forward, on the blue-green boughs of the spruce and cedar in front of us, but I feel Julian's gaze on me.

"Thank you for telling me," he says softly. "I know... how hard it is. And it's yours to tell, or not, but... I'd bet a lot that there's a way to show the world what a giant shit-stain this 'Thom' guy really is. People like that... they don't just do this once. He knew exactly what he was doing, Noah, because—like as not—he'd done it before. And somewhere along the way, he's sure to have fucked up. Dane and I could take the case," he muses. "I bet the ex-wife has some dirt to share..."

It looks like he's already making plans, and I can't help smiling.

"You're a good friend, Julian," I tell him, "but how about we deal with your problems first. Then we can tackle mine."

He smiles, and the effect heightens his already almost terrible beauty to the point that I have to look away or it feels like I might stop breathing.

"Alright," he agrees. "Deal."

~ ☾ ~

The standing stones—really just a natural pile of smooth-sided boulders deposited here by an ancient glacier long ago—are in the middle of a long, grassy stretch of open land. A stream runs through it, bordered by dense thickets of willow, while tall, darkly impenetrable forest lines either side.

I look over at Julian as I park near the meadow's lower end. The road keeps going—the dirt track winding up and around the ridge, eventually ending at a hunting cabin deep in the trees, but this spot is the closest the road gets to the stones. I have a feeling it's close enough.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "Have you been here at all, since...?" Since he returned from the Fae realm after almost getting killed by a psychotic Shifter and a bunch of rogue Wolves, I mean.

He stares out the window, then shakes his head. "No, I haven't," he says, "but yeah, I'm okay."

Abruptly, he opens his door and gets out, stretches, and takes a deep breath of the cool, forest air. I watch him for a moment, and then I do the same.

Even though the town of Spring Lakes is surrounded by forest-clad hills and the slopes of a mountain range, being out here, in the forest itself, without another person for miles around, is different. I take a few deep breaths of my own, drinking in the rich scent of cedar, fir, and pine, of clear streams, dry grass, and sun-warmed stone.

It would be nice to go Wolf out here, I think, and run the open meadow, or track up among the encircling hills.

Some other time, maybe.

"Hey, you brought the stuff I told you to, right?" I ask, realizing I probably should have checked on that earlier.

Julian turns with a look of surprise and dismay, and I feel my heart sink. If he forgot the white candles, silver bell, and bowl, then we drove all this way for nothing.

He grins. "Gotcha! Of course I did," he says, and then he laughs.

Maybe we don't need all that crap after all, I think. Julian's got to be some kind of Fae beacon at this point; his laugh alone enough to make the forest go still, as if the trees themselves are listening.

"Okay then," I say, shaking myself free of his unintentional enchantment. "Grab the stuff and let's go."

He retrieves his pack from the back seat, and together we set out, leaving the shelter of the trees and striking off across the open meadow. Thankfully the ground is mostly dry, the tall grass bent low by wind and a few recent summer storms, and it's an easy mile to the stones.

When we cross the shallow stream, I bend and fill my empty bottle with its clear, cold water.

"I don't think you should drink that," Julian says, frowning at me. "I mean, even up here the water's not that clean."

"It's not to drink," I tell him. "This creek's fed by a spring, and we need spring-water for the Calling."

"Oh. Where'd you learn all this, anyway?" he asks.

"My mom," I answer, smiling at the memory as I recap the bottle and we continue on. "After the end of the Fae-Wolf Conflict, she became one of our ambassadors. The Fae taught her some stuff like this—how to Call on them, and so on. She taught Dane, as the presumed alpha-heir, and me as... well, as a backup. Dane's single-minded and sharp, but... well, you know."

Julian giggles. "Yeah. He can remember every detail of a crime-scene, every blot on a criminal's rap-sheet, but if something doesn't interest him—" He makes a whooshing motion with his hand over his head.

"Yep," I agree. "I basically did his chemistry homework for him his Senior year, and I hadn't even taken chemistry yet."

"What did you get out of it?" he asks.

I shrug. "I got good at chemistry."

A few minutes later, we approach the stones. They lie at the base of a wide, circular depression, making them invisible from any lower ground. Pausing at the lip of the basin, I look down at them where they stand like a cluster of gigantic, crooked teeth jutting from the earth, and then over at Julian, worried that the sight may trigger too many bad memories for him.

Rather than fear, though, I see only a kind of open wonder on his face, his violet eyes shining behind a fringe of dark lashes, and his silk-smooth hair gently tousled by a breeze.

"Do you see it?" he asks under his breath.

"I see the stones," I reply, confused.

"No—" He points in a sweeping gesture. "The air. It's all... shimmery."

I look again, squinting, then remove my glasses, squint again, and put them back on. "I don't see it," I say.

"Huh..." He shrugs and then walks forward, towards the two stones—each about twice the height of a man and leaning slightly towards one another—that had served as a doorway to Faerie once before.

Setting down his pack, Julian digs out the things I'd told him to bring: a pair of white candles, a large shallow bowl, and a silver bell.

I set the bowl between the stones with a candle on either side and fill it with the water I'd gathered from the spring. Then, lighting the candles, I ring the bell over the water three times, and recite the words for calling on Fae friends.

"It might be awhile," I say, sitting back on my heels with a sigh. "As you know, time is a little different over there."

When Julian doesn't answer, I look up and find him staring at the space between the stones with his head tilted to one side, his lips slightly parted, and an unfocused look in his eyes.

"Julian?"

He takes a step closer and raises a hand, hesitates, and then moves it in a slow arc-like gesture, as though drawing aside a curtain of light silk.

Then I see it—how the air ripples and shimmers, like a thin veil of water sliding over glass—just as it had looked when the Fae had opened the doorway here before and taken Julian through to their realm.

Julian laughs—a sound of clear delight, but one which strikes me with a thrill of fear—and then, with a smile, he steps between the stones and disappears.