8. The Nightshade

"First date in a decade," Micah said to Fadil, fixing his hair in his mirror. Then he pointed at his reflection and ordered, " Don't do anything magical."

Fadil meowed deep in his throat, his sides expanding as he blinked up at Micah from the edge of the sink.

"Ugh." Micah used his forearm and swept the cat off the counter. Fadil landed with a thunk by his feet, swishing his tail in irritation. Glaring at him, Micah said, "When you're a jerk, you can't sit on my stuff."

"Micah! Your date is here."

Micah bent and gave Fadil an apologetic back rub before yelling, "I'm coming!"

He crossed through his bedroom door which led to a long flight of stairs, taking them down to the living room two at a time. Julian shuffled past him into the hall to the kitchen, winking at Micah as he passed.

Standing near Micah's painted fireplace, Andrew turned to face him with the anxious smile of someone more accustomed to being alone. He wore a tweed blazer with elbow patches over a black tee, which drew the blood ward around his neck into emphasis.

Their eyes languished over each other, warming Micah's cheeks as he approached. As he slid his hand along the small of Andrew's back, he drew him down slightly and pressed a lingering kiss onto his cheek.

"Question," said Andrew. "How old are you actually?"

Micah blinked. Even though Andrew knew about his Fae side, someone asking him his age still made his stomach drop. "You're just asking me that now?"

Eyes narrowing just slightly, Andrew said as he started to grin, "Your father made a point that this is your house, and it's lovely. Much nicer than my flat, and much nicer than starter homes usually are. And, you don't act like you're Sam's age. And, the face you just made is usually reserved for when people over thirty-five are asked their age."

Smoothing Andrew's lapel, Micah said evasively, "Mm, well-played, Professor…Professor…what's your last name?" They'd been texting constantly since they got breakfast together three days ago, but Micah had forgotten to ask.

"Vidasche."

"V-dosh," annunciated Micah carefully.

"Right. What's yours?"

"Stillwater. My dad and I chose it when we moved here."

Julian shuffled around the corner into the living room. "Did you ask how old he is?" When Andrew nodded, Julian said, "He just turned forty, little shit." He was carrying a plate of baklava. Andrew's slender auburn eyebrows rose as he looked down at Julian, and rose higher when Julian picked up Andrew's wrist and deposited a baklava into his hand. "Yikes! Look at these skinny wrists," exclaimed Julian, his thumb and middle finger overlapping around Andrew's wrist. "You will let me feed you, right? I need to fatten you up."

"Okay." Andrew smiled slightly.

In what looked like a practiced gesture, Micah held out his hand just in time for Julian to drop one of the pastries into it on his way over to the couch by the patio doors. Grinning, Andrew picked the baklava off his palm with two fingers, wiping his hand on his maroon jeans. While Julian slid open the patio door, Micah snuck his pastry back onto the plate with the others and then turned to take Andrew's from him.

Protectively, Andrew snatched the pastry out of reach and then took a quick bite. Glaring at Micah, he said when he swallowed, "Delicious, Mr. Stillwater." Micah snorted, rolling his eyes as he picked up his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of his plaid slacks.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Julian, sinking onto the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table. "Please, please. Call me Julian. I've never been a ‘mister' to anyone."

Leaning over the back of the couch, Micah planted his customary kiss on the crown of Julian's head, who reached around and pinched his ear until Micah straightened. Andrew's expression changed, becoming more wistful until he managed a slight smile.

"Where are you boys off to? First date, right?"

"The Night Market in Mears Park," said Micah.

"Is that for humans?" asked Julian.

"Yes," he answered. "Nothing extraordinary about it. Just quaint, ordinary sweetness."

"That's a relief. You'd better not get Andrew all wrapped up in that faerie bullshit."

"Yes, father." He patted Julian's shoulder. "I'll text you when we're on our way back."

Andrew followed Micah down to the foyer where they both stepped into their shoes, Micah's a pair of low-cut forest green chucks, and Andrew's more serious black pennyloafers.

When he locked the front door behind them, Micah said with a sigh, "Sorry about my dad. He's not well-socialized."

Andrew snorted. "Neither am I. But, uh—is he always so…" He thought of Julian spitting the words faerie bullshit and tried to find the right way to say it.

"Hostile?" Micah provided.

"About the Folk," Andrew said quickly. "‘Faerie bullshit'," he repeated in air quotes.

Micah smiled weakly. "Afraid so. He's got every right to be, with what he's been through." Andrew had more questions, but the smile faded so quickly from Micah's lips that it made him hold his tongue. Micah gripped the railing, glancing up at Andrew, worry creasing his brow. "Hey, uh, you okay? About my age."

Andrew thought for a moment, standing one step down and gazing at the row of linden trees lining the curb. The breeze played with strands of his hair loose from his half-ponytail. "Could be worse than being eight years my senior," he said. "Would you still look like this if you were two hundred?"

The iron railing under Micah's palms chilled his skin in a way that helped him keep his composure. "Don't know," he said softly.

Andrew leaned next to him, arms crossed, patiently waiting and urging Micah on with his silence.

"There's no rulebook for me to consult," Micah said. "I stopped aging like a human when I was twenty-five or something. But that isn't a guarantee that I'm immortal, like the Folk." He gazed into the bushes below, frowning. "A foot in each world, and a stranger to both."

The linden trees rustled over their heads, dappling early evening sunlight across Micah's arms. He looked up when the leaves kept rustling with no voice joining them and found Andrew's honey-flecked eyes fixed on his face.

"That sounds lonely," murmured Andrew.

Micah's throat tightened. Andrew gently turned his chin, leaning toward him and brushing their lips together. Micah strung an arm around Andrew's neck, slipping out of his body and into the space they made together, where nothing hurt and there was no fear.

Salt stained Micah's taste buds from his tears, distracting him. Pulling back, he pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes. "Sorry. Crying. I cry a lot," Micah rasped.

"That's all right," Andrew said in a whisper. "Men ought to cry more." He caught a teardrop on Micah's lash with his thumb.

"Listen, um, why don't we get going?" Micah said, drying his face and taking an unsteady breath. "If you keep me going on all this…depressing shit, I'm gonna be a puddle by the end of the night."

"Yes. Of course." Andrew offered him his hand, and they clanged down the steps together as he beeped his keys and unlocked his Saturn. "I was planning to drive, if you'd like."

Micah beeped his own set of keys, making the taillights on a handsome Prius flash. With a sidelong grin, he said, "You sure? It's a hybrid."

Andrew eyed the much nicer car and scoffed, "Fancy old man. What, are you a business executive or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I did get my MBA from Carlson School of Management." Micah tugged Andrew toward his car and opened the passenger door for him. "Presumably, without Fae influence. Though now I have to wonder a bit."

Andrew settled into the passenger seat. "Huh. I should hire you as a business consultant."

"With your cute face? I'd do it for free." Micah pecked his cheek and then shut the door, but lingered so he could see Andrew's ears redden. They were both grinning as Micah pulled away from the curb and joined the slow, dense flow of traffic into the heart of the city where Mears Park was situated. As the car crept through pedestrians and Micah started to look for an open street parking spot, he said, "So, I've been wondering—shit, that's too small, isn't it?"

"My Saturn could have fit."

"Wow." Micah laughed. After one more trip around the block, he snagged a spot just as someone left it. They climbed out onto a wide sidewalk outside the park, which was a small curated plot of nature among the modest skyscrapers in downtown Saint Paul. It was hemmed in by tall black lamp posts with frosted bubble lights. Geometric cobblestones were paved wide enough for clusters of people to meander with no rush or claustrophobia, with wooden benches and slabs of limestone used for more seating. Tonight, for the night market, vendors lined the cobblestone walkway and spilled into the grove of trees. Their generators vibrated the air and made the park sound like it was in a much bigger city than it was.

"What were you wondering?" asked Andrew. They meandered among the stalls, peering at taco trucks next to pottery vendors next to a face-painter. At the opposite end of the park, there was a large bandshell with a jazz band playing a dizzying tune.

"You said you've only been up to Lilydale once. Did you just stumble upon it?" Micah asked.

"Sort of," said Andrew. "I was looking for my mum."

Micah stifled a giggle with his wrist.

"What?"

"‘Mum.' You're so cute."

Rolling his eyes, Andrew continued, "I left her when I was eighteen. Kind of distracted myself through university. Also at the U of M."

"Go Gophers," said Micah dryly.

"Indeed. It wasn't before I got settled at Magic's that I started to wonder what became of her. Ah, tofu dogs. I love those."

"So does my dad. He's not even vegetarian."

"Neither am I," said Andrew with a laugh. He jumped into the line with Micah ambling after him, his violet eyes roaming over the crowd as he shamelessly people-watched. Andrew selected a hot dog and two lemonades, and Micah held out a bill to pay the vendor. Andrew slapped his hand away and paid for it himself.

"Ow. Why would your mom—your mum be up in Lilydale? Unless…ah. Shit." Micah's voice dropped to a whisper. "Fae-spelled foods."

Andrew nodded, handing Micah one of the cups and then tapping the rims together in a toast. They moved out of the line and scanned the park for open seating. Micah took him by the elbow and led them to a slab of limestone near a foot bridge that ran over an artificial creek. The creek was lined with bowing birchwood trees, their bark silvery in the twilight. Micah rested his hand against the smooth trunk of the nearest birch, which seemed to breathe under his palm as if it was a slumbering wyrm. Such an illusion was a common experience for Micah, especially back in the Redwoods.

Andrew sat next to him, pressing his bony knees together to hold the checkered paper tray. "My mum and I left my dad when I was twelve. He was prone to…violent temper tantrums. His worst tantrum was when he found out I'm gay."

"What!" Micah exclaimed. "Ugh. Are you serious? How primitive."

"Mm, he was." Andrew's expression remained neutral as he took a bite of his hot dog, following it with a sip of lemonade. He went on, still blank-faced, "He gave my mum chronic migraines since she took most of his hits. So when we came here after that, she got hooked on painkillers. We ended up homeless a few times."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry."

"Someone at Catholic Charities sold her something from Lilydale when her pills ran out. That was when I was almost seventeen, I believe. Things got much worse for her after that. One time she turned on all the gas burners on the stove because she thought they smelled like roses. I came home to her about to light a cigarette."

"Oh, shit, no," Micah said, gripping his leaf necklace. "Do you know how often shit like that happened where I grew up? I saw someone die at least every week. From a heart attack, or…or worse, dangerous shit like that they thought was fun. People stabbed themselves or walked into a river and drowned, laughing. It was grotesque and terrifying, and…and here, the Folk up in Lilydale just shrug about it."

Andrew nodded. "I met a faerie, when I was up there. She was ambivalent at best. About people misusing their food."

"They all are," said Micah with a groan. "It's made it much easier to stay away. I'm resentful of their indifference."

"Yeah," Andrew said thoughtfully, "but why should they care? We make terrible, destructive choices all the time. Unfortunately, not even my mum is an exception. Nobody forced her to abuse substances like that."

Micah cocked his head. "I'm sorry, you're really justifying the Folk? I'm so confused. I've literally never heard a human do that."

Andrew shrugged. "I'm not saying it's what I wanted. But humans aren't always innocent. We're not always just victims."

"Huh." Micah took a long drink from his lemonade, puckering his lips. "Lawfully neutral, aren't you?"

"Yes," he agreed, his eyes lingering on Micah's lips. "Generally speaking." He set aside his food, curling his fingers closed, gazing at the trickling creek near them. "But I'm not so sure that's what happened to me. I'm not sure what I did to that faerie in the bluffs warranted what she's been doing to me since then. I—I only pulled a knife because she was a stranger lunging at me in the bluffs!" The scene started flashing behind his eyes, doubling his heartrate, his blood slamming in his ears. He curled in on himself, ducking his head so his hair veiled his features. "It was fair that I defended myself. Her cruelty hasn't been. She's always watching me. Stalking me. Terrorizing me." Andrew sniffed, swiping at his face. "I'm going mad." He was silent for a moment before giving a breathless little laugh. "Sorry. Do people usually do this much crying on first dates?" He lifted his head to give Micah a pained grin, his eyes red-rimmed.

Micah frowned, brushing his fingers against Andrew's knee. "I'm sorry. I've had that same feeling myself, that tingly someone's-watching you thing, honestly." Andrew looked at Micah's hand, touching the Ingwaz mark on his index finger. Micah turned his palm up and gently laced their fingers together. He met Andrew's eyes and said softly, "But I can promise you one thing. As long as you're with me, nobody from Lilydale would dare to trifle with you."

Andrew scoffed. "Yeah, right." But the hunch of his shoulders relaxed; hope lit in his eyes. "Micah, you can't—you can't tease me with that. She has been a curse on my life for five years. How can you just…take it away?"

"Just give me a chance," Micah said with an unwavering smile. "Chami isn't my only connection up there."

"I can't get my hopes up," Andrew whispered. He shook his head. "Nothing's worked so far."

Micah kissed his knuckles. "Okay. Don't get your hopes up, then. That isn't going to stop me."

Andrew's eyes burned. "That's my limit," he warbled. "Too much emotion. Why…why don't we take a turn around the park?"

Cupping Andrew's face in his hands, Micah nodded and leaned in to kiss him.

Smack.

They both yelped. A honeysuckle blossom fell onto Micah's knee; he rubbed his stinging cheek.

"What in the—?" asked Andrew, picking up the flower.

"Nightshade Boy," crooned a voice like a mourning dove over Micah's shoulder. He swiveled on the limestone to face a small woman with skin the color of acorns, and a cloud of soil-black hair.

"Oh my god! Syabira!" Micah exclaimed. He leaned down to plant a kiss on both of the woman's cheeks. "I didn't know you had a stall here." Over her shoulder was her display bearing a wall of flowers of all colors exploding from glass vials, crates of flowers below them, interspersed with gleaming glass light bulbs radiating buttery light. "Oh, it's beautiful."

"Come over," she said, her inky eyes sliding over to Andrew. "I must make you an arrangement." Her eyes stayed on Andrew.

"Me?" Andrew touched his chest. "Why? You're…" His voice dropped. "You're from Lilydale? You called him—"

Syabira nodded slightly, her lips like rose petals as she curled them in a smile. She wore a wide silk wrap around her forehead, her ears tucked inside; her dress was frothy white and fell like a waterfall to her ankles. "I saw you earlier this week, confronting our archer."

Andrew raised his brows.

"Chami's an archer," Micah supplied softly.

"I didn't realize I had an audience," Andrew said.

"We're always watching," said Syabira. She reached between her breasts and withdrew a nightshade blossom, indigo petals circling a vivid yellow stamen, the stem also deep purple in hue. "Especially where the Nightshade Boy is concerned."

"Syabira, you just happen to have a nightshade blossom nestled in your bosom?" Micah hissed, snatching it out of her hands.

"I felt you would be here tonight," she said coyly. Then she crooked a bony finger toward Andrew. Her fingertip was powdery green. "Come, noble knight."

"Noble knight?" repeated Andrew. "What is happening?"

"Don't tell my dad that things got folksy," muttered Micah. They rose off the limestone slab, Andrew skirting off to throw away their food waste in a bin marked for compost. Syabira returned to her stall to help a handful of customers that had gathered when she was away talking to them. She was perhaps waist-height, small like a child but built like a grown woman. When she spoke with customers, she had a lilting, musical voice that soothed like a lullaby, so people went from buying one small bouquet to an armful of blossoms without realizing.

"I'm so sorry," Micah said while they waited their turn. "Syabira does a lot of flower vending around the city, and she's taught me an absolute ton about gardening. I owe her a lot. My house thrives because of her."

"It's all right," Andrew said with a gentle smile. "She seems nice. But why are you the Nightshade Boy?"

Micah scoffed, swiping a hand through his hair. "It's a title that followed me to Minnesota," he answered. "Something about beauty and unassuming danger. And my eyes, I guess." He held the blossom near his indigo gaze, which almost perfectly matched the petals of the nightshade. "Should I eat this?" He opened his mouth.

Andrew slapped his hand down, scowling. "Gallows humor doesn't suit you."

Syabira grabbed Micah's wrist and yanked him up to the stall. Thoughtfully tapping her chin, she inspected Andrew as he stepped up by Micah's shoulder. Under her scrutiny, Andrew awkwardly smoothed his hair and chewed on his nail. He felt he was sitting for a portrait.

It was odd, and not altogether unpleasant, meeting a faerie among humans that wasn't being hostile. She moved among her fragrant blossoms with confident grace, glancing up at Andrew as she picked each flower and set it across a large square of newspaper. Micah curled his fingers around Andrew's elbow, silently watching Syabira work. When she had amassed twenty or so flowers and wrapped them delicately in the paper, she held it out for Andrew.

"Wow," he breathed, overwhelmed by the heady, wild scent. The spray of white, purple, and yellow among the deep green leaves was like an impressionist painting.

Micah held a twenty dollar bill out toward her, but Syabira curled her lip and spat on the ground. "It's a gift, Nightshade Boy. Don't insult me."

"Come on!" he exclaimed.

"Pay me back by coming up to Lilydale," said Syabira tersely.

"Ugh. Have you been talking to the Lady of the Bluffs?"

Syabira sniffed. "It's what we all want."

Micah scowled and glanced up at Andrew. "This happens every time. No matter who I'm talking to."

Andrew bowed slightly at his waist to the small vendor. "I cherish your gift, madame. But we have more of the market to explore. If you'll excuse us."

Surprised, Micah's lips parted in a faint, but very appreciative smile. With a glint in her eye, Syabira inclined her head. Then she turned toward another couple bending over blossoms and beamed at them, neatly ending her interaction with Andrew and Micah.

Sighing, hands in his pockets, Micah left the flower stall and gazed distantly at the other vendors for several silent minutes. Wanting to bring Micah back to him, Andrew brushed his fingertips against Micah's wrist, gently drawing out his hand and twining their fingers together. Micah's attention returned from wherever it had roamed, and he looked up at Andrew, the faerie lights reflecting like constellations across his eyes.

"Shall I test my knowledge?" asked Andrew, leaning over the bouquet, the ambrosia making his head spin. "Spiderwort, oxeye, aster, coneflower…what's this little four-petal one?"

His forehead touching Andrew's, Micah murmured, "Mayapple. Why do you know these?"

"Don't want to get poisoned." Andrew grinned.

Micah laughed, the sound trailing off into something more humorless. "You jest, but if anyone in Lilydale would do that, it would be Syabira."

"Yes, well. So far so good." He slid the pink honeysuckle blossom into the center of the bouquet. Micah slipped the nightshade next to it. Andrew said, "Less so now."

Micah snickered.

"I think you need something to eat," said Andrew.

"Oh, yeah? I saw some cotton candy by the bandshell."

"Micah, that is not food."

"Yeah, well, you know what? ‘Candy floss' makes less sense than cotton candy."

"You just had to make this personal."

Though the Night Market was small and easy to scour, Andrew and Micah passed several hours without noticing. The concert ended, but the cicadas picked up when the music fell silent. The crowds might have thinned, but truthfully neither of them noticed. Eventually Andrew stifled a yawn, and Micah with his arm around Andrew's slender waist led them back to his car. The silence on the drive back was comfortable, Micah feeling surprisingly little pressure to speak, and Andrew grateful for that.

The windows of Micah's brownstone were all dark, which hopefully meant it was a successful night where Julian had gone to bed without issue. Micah cut the engine and glanced over at Andrew, who slid his seatbelt over his chest so it folded up his lapel when it retracted.

After all the places they'd met—The Squire, and the co-op, out in Lilydale, even at breakfast—Micah was glad to notice Andrew seemed different now. His forehead was smooth and unlined, and his lips curled at the corners with a coquettish smile. He hooked his fingers through the door handle, ready to get out onto the curb without a second thought. But Micah caught his wrist.

Andrew started, warmth lighting in the pit of his stomach as he settled back into his seat and turned to Micah, whose eyes were a luminous lavender under the streetlight's golden glow. Paler somehow than Andrew remembered them, it seemed their hue had shifted with some thought or feeling. Micah made no attempt to hide his feelings, though, as he reached over and slid his hand along Andrew's neck, thumbing his pronounced jaw, drawing Andrew toward him with his fingers curled against the nape of his neck.

They met over the center console, light glinting through the windshield and staining syrupy gold across their lips as they kissed. Heat seared the air around them; Andrew gripped Micah's collar, opening his mouth so their tongues could meet for the first time, curious and eager. Micah's fingers teased Andrew's hair, tracing a shiver down his spine. Micah left the kiss to brush his lips over the lean column of Andrew's neck, eliciting a breathless moan of pleasure that made Micah's toes curl. Andrew dipped his head, finding Micah's lips again, his tongue quick to follow as they leaned against the console and into each other, arms twining, desire surging.

Micah forced himself away, catching his breath and holding it, his cheeks hot enough to burn.

Andrew's eyes stayed closed, his lips bright and glistening, his hair mussed. One umber eye slit open with displeasure. He tugged on Micah's collar, trying to bring him back.

"Let's do this again," Micah said hoarsely. "Another date. Please?"

Headlights flashed through the car, dazzling them both into squinting. The darkness became velvet after the light faded, cooling the cabin of the car as they both drifted back to earth like pebbles sinking into the shallows.

Andrew leaned on his elbow, head lowered, fingers touching his mouth and his cheek and his neck as if in disbelief. His chin flicked down in a nod as his eyes darted back up to meet Micah's elderberry gaze. "Mm." He shifted to rest his chin on his hand, smiling again in that cheeky way that made Micah fight to resist kissing him again. "More dates?" Andrew said softly. "Obviously."

They climbed out into the cooling night, wobbly as if they'd just learned to walk. Andrew pulled the keys to his Saturn out of his jeans, balancing on the curb as he made his way back down to the older beige car. Micah trailed after him in the grass, clasping his wrist behind his back, admiring Andrew's slender hips and lean legs as his weight kept shifting to keep his balance, the bouquet dangling prettily from his delicate hand.

"Got your sword in there, just in case?" Micah asked as he leaned against the back door on the driver's side. "I want to make sure you get home safe. Should I ride with you? I can walk home."

Andrew dropped into the driver's seat. As he turned the ignition and the engine growled into life, he grinned up at Micah. "I know how to use the sword. It'll be okay."

"I don't know," said Micah. "If anything happens to you, I might go feral." Gripping the hood of the car, he leaned down toward Andrew and said softly, "Who knows what I could do then." He winked, a dimple appearing in his cheek. Then he looked down at the bouquet laying across Andrew's legs. "Put that nightshade blossom on your windowsill, how about? Wrap some twine around the stem and hang it from a nail, to make sure your cat doesn't get it. And make sure you wash your hands after handling it." Micah shrugged. "It'll just send a little message to the Folk up there. They'll know what it means."

"Ah." Andrew glanced at the bouquet. "I can do that. Cool."

"Send me a photo of it when you do," Micah insisted. "I'm not letting you off the hook."

"Trust me," Andrew said, one slender brow rising, "I am more than happy to accept any and all relief from this haunting." His lips curled. "I'm really grateful for you, Micah."

Micah shook his head. "Don't. I'm still making up for charming you. And for lying."

"How do you feel about sushi?"

"It's amazing." Micah grinned.

"All right. Make it up to me with sushi. Let's go, whenever you have your next day off."

Grin widening, Micah nodded, leaning down into the car and giving Andrew one final kiss before he sent him away.

Micah strung his fingers behind his head as he watched Andrew's taillights fade into the distance down Saint Claire. It was a comfort knowing Andrew was quite literally just out of sight, just on the other side of West Seventh, and that he'd amassed enough ways to protect himself from Folk meddling with him.

Micah felt a niggling fear that it was Ingrid that Andrew had run into in the bluffs. But if she'd been caught off guard by Andrew, Micah thought there would have been little stopping her from just slaughtering him on the spot. She'd often been sent on human hunts for the Queen; she was more than capable of killing.

Regardless of who it was, Micah hoped the nightshade would be enough to ward off the Folk for now. If it wasn't, and Andrew reported any additional harassment, that would be more than enough to summon Micah back to the bluffs.