Chapter Forty-three

The man who looked like Craig approached, nearly as tall as Morrisey, with dark hair and eyes, and an arrogant smirk. A stranger and yet…

Words became background noise. A traveler. Craig had been a traveler. And yet, what had Jessa said about keeping pieces of each host?

At last, the words hit home. Anger surged in Morrisey. No. He couldn’t let this man provoke him. “If you’re with Asher, you’ve made your choice.” Physically, he remained still. Mentally, he dove.

The traveler had been a tradesman in Domus, corrupted by Asher’s evil sway. He hadn’t stood a chance of being picked to come to Terra, so he’d made a deal. Nothing remained of who he’d been.

Since arriving, he’d taken many hosts, all against their will. Morrisey dove deeper into the being’s psyche. There! Traces of Craig.

“I dunno, Bryan. I’m not really good at sports.”

“But we need one more to have a team. Will you please join?”

How could Craig say no to his best friend? “All right. But you owe me.”

Bryan waggled his brows. “Just wait till you see all the hot men on the team. You’ll be thanking me.”

Just then a tall, lanky man came out of the locker room. Oh, my. “What about him?” Craig asked.

Bryan snorted. “Why on earth would you want Morrisey James?”

Why indeed. It had taken way too long for Craig to finally make a move.

The scene shifted, changed. Flashes of Morrisey’s life with Craig.

“You know, Morse, you’d feel better if you didn’t eat so much junk food. Those additives are killing you.”

The next scene cut Morrisey to the core. He felt the pain he’d caused firsthand. Craig sat on the bed, sobs wracking his body. “Oh, Morrisey. Why did you have to work so late on my birthday?”

The funeral for Morrisey’s father, then his mother. Craig longing to take away the pain, holding Morrisey while Morrisey held back tears.

Craig sat on the couch, playing the guitar. Love flowed through Morrisey from this ghost of Craig. He’d really loved Morrisey. Wanted forever.

“I’ll only be gone a few days. My aunt needs me. Please say you’ll come.” Craig held his breath, though he already knew deep in his heart what answer he’d get.

“Now, you know I gotta work.”

If only Morrisey could go back in time, agree to go.

Craig stopped to help a stranded motorist. “Hey, need some help there, ma”am?”

The woman sprang at Craig, squeezing his head between powerful hands.

What was she doing? “Stop! You’re hurting me! Stop!” Craig’s vision grayed around the edges. Pain. So much pain. He was dying.

And he’d never get to see Morrisey again. “I love you, Morse,” he whispered as darkness took him.

His last act on earth had been to manipulate the traveler into leaving Morrisey.

Morrisey saw the fear in the traveler’s eyes, when the foul creature realized he’d failed to hide the truth. Oh, how Morrisey wanted to make the asshole pay.

But it wouldn’t bring Craig back. On instinct he opened a portal.

And sent the son of a bitch through.

He’d mourn later. For now, he must save the living.

What the fuck am I? Morrisey kept his eyes tightly closed while being wheeled to the infirmary, locking down his energy so no one could sense him.

He wasn’t human. Hell, he’d just sent soul after soul to the great beyond while barely trying. He’d nearly lost control and would have if not for Farren.

What am I? After what happened in the conference room, would Morrisey be banished next? Could he be banished? The power, the feeling of being invincible. Intoxicating. But in time, would the darkness consume Morrisey as it had Asher?

Darkness. Yes. Morrisey was darkness. But was he evil? What if someone pissed him off? Could he kill them with his mind in a fit of rage, only to regret his actions later?

Right now, hatred, rage, pain, and despair permeated the air, so tempting for Morrisey to feed upon, especially after learning about Craig. But no. If he opened himself to negative emotions, he really would seal his doom.

“Don’t let it destroy you,”the ghost of Craig implored. Craig, who as his very last act protected Morrisey and orchestrated the offending traveler’s punishment.

Then sweet scents filled the air: hope, friendship… love.

Morrisey opened his soul and drank his fill.

Beep, beep, beep, sounded rhythmically around Morrisey as he blinked sand from his eyes. Antiseptic stung his nose. Must be a hospital of some kind. The infirmary?

Farren sat in a chair beside the bed, chin nearly touching his chest, snoring softly. Morrisey’s heart swelled at the sight. He longed to reach through their connection, test the bond, but better to let Farren sleep.

Craig. Craig had been there. A traveler. What hurt more, feeling like he been abandoned or knowing he hadn’t been there when Craig needed him? No, worse yet, not even realizing Craig hadn’t been the one to return from the trip? What kind of shit boyfriend had Morrisey been?

How long had Asher been fucking with Morrisey’s life? Didn’t matter now. No more Asher, no more not-Craig. A tear slipped past Morrisey’s eyelashes, spilling onto his cheek. Who did he shed tears for?

The curtain opened, and a man stepped through. He wasn’t a doctor, but a traveler radiating power, who also permitted Morrisey to see his true self: Magestra. Even without being a traveler, his bearing and the confident glint in his eye would’ve marked him as either military or from some agency operating under three letters.

The man took a seat in the chair on the other side of Morrisey’s bed. Dressed in a dark blue suit, he ran a hand over buzzed-cut blond hair. He could have given Captain Gaskins a run for the money in the built-like-a-Mack-truck department. His lopsided smile likely drew many to his bed.

Couldn’t compare to Farren on a bad day

The man held out his hand. “Agent James? I’m Special Agent Carter, FBI.” He had the good graces to keep his voice low, casting a quick glance at Farren.

“You’ll have to forgive me for not shaking your hand. I’m afraid I can’t lift mine at the moment.” Morrisey nodded to his hand, an IV tube snaked through the wrapping. Somehow, he lacked the energy to lift them.

Carter dropped his hand to the bedrail. “That’s expected after what you accomplished yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yeah. You’ve been out for quite some time. Your mate caught us up on what happened. The Atlanta task force is down to three members.”

Three members? Oh, yeah. Devon hadn”t been in the conference room. Three of approximately twenty-five. “Drop my name off the list. I don’t trust those bastards. Want nothing to do with them.” Would Gaskins take Morrisey back at Atlanta PD if he asked nicely? Oh, who was he kidding? Gaskins wouldn’t trust a Morrisey who did anything nice.

Carter gave a curt nod. “Understandable. I’m from the DC office. We found out there was trouble and came as quickly as bureaucracy allowed. Too late to save the vice president, I’m afraid. We lost a few senators, too.”

So, Asher wasn’t the only traveler to elevate his station by taking over the body of a powerful politician. “How are you going to explain to the public?” Going on the six o’clock news to say aliens killed the VP? Nope. Not happening after all the time and effort spent on secrecy.

Then again, maybe Asher single-handedly changed the government’s willingness to accept travelers.

“Heart attacks and plane crashes so far. We’re letting out information only as needed.” Carter spoke so matter-of-factly, cool in a crisis.

“What’s going to happen here?”

“We’re bringing in some team members from other areas for starters. Then we’ll go from there.” Carter softened his FBI Agent voice. “Is it true you were there when Domus lost its battle?”

“I was, up to the end.”

Carter winced. “I guess there’s no hope anyone else will come across.”

“No. But if you’re looking for someone, they might’ve made it before the end and be anywhere. Or they could have gone to another realm.” The next few months might see family members reunited when they thought all hope lost. “The elders tried to send as many as possible.”

“One could hope. I know we haven’t given you a reason to, but would you stay on? Help us get our bearings again?”

Morrisey eyed Farren, still asleep in the chair. “I come as a package deal now.”

“He gave the same answer.”

Of course he did. “We had others with us. Sykes, Jessalain, Colm…”

Carter rested his elbows on his thighs, meaty forearms hanging down between his knees, the image of a man who’d recently been through too much. “Sykes turned traitor and paid the price. I’m afraid Colm has gone on his way to wherever souls go when the body dies, and they don’t take a new one.”

Morrisey didn’t know the man well, but the death might come as a blow to Farren.

“Jessalain recruited someone named Arianna, and together they’re running the office, as far as administrative goes, though I have to give her the hairy eyeball occasionally for flirting with my men.”

Maybe the loss of Sykes hadn’t hit Jessa too hard. Or maybe their flirtation was merely flirtation with no deeper feelings. “What happened to Leary?”

“Ah, Leary.” Carter stared off into space. “He’s still around, but… changed.”

“Changed how?”

“I had men planted in the conference room. One got shot too badly to repair the damage quickly. So did Leary, but what normally might’ve proved fatal was fixable by a traveler.”

“Oh. So, someone else now wears a Leary suit.”

“You might say that.” Carter gave a head tilt. “A buddy of mine. You can trust Leary 2.0.”

“I’d never heard of you before. I thought Atlanta had the only task force.” But wait. Hadn’t Farren mentioned others?

“We were a well-kept secret. Well, not known to the average human, but it’s only a matter of time. We’ve got the best spin doctors known to man working on that angle. You may not have realized, but Domus Magestra normally kept to their assigned sectors unless asked to assist elsewhere. It wouldn’t have occurred to Austen that you might want to know about other divisions.” Carter let out a massive yawn. “Sorry. I haven’t slept in a while. Anyway. We owe you a debt of gratitude. You realize you’re the highest-ranking traveler in the area, right?”

Rank again. Morrisey scowled. “The highest ranking in Domus means fuck all here.”

Carter flexed a hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “Some might not see things that way, but yeah, I understand.”

“I’m just a cop. Or was a cop. Now I guess I’m an agent.” If Morrisey ever left his apartment again. Barricading the door and staying put—with Farren—appealed more and more.

Carter’s intense gray-eyed gaze bored into Morrisey. “You can be whatever the fuck you want, so long as you stay on the side of the good guys.”

“I’m too boring to do anything else.” Too boring and tired.

Carter stalled for a moment, aura flickering with indecision. Finally, he said, “We actually have two Princeps in Washington. One is fairly inexperienced, but the other was an elder in Domus even before coming here—in 1962 as part of a diplomatic mission.”

Good. Asher had been wrong about Morrisey being the only one—one of many things Asher had been wrong about. “Good for them.”

“We’d like to arrange for you to spend some time in DC. I understand you grew up believing yourself human and only recently discovered your true nature. Maybe they can teach you a thing or two, and vice versa.”

Morrisey suspected Carter wasn’t using a royal “we.” How far up did this knowledge go? And would associating with the Princeps put Morrisey—and possibly others—in the crosshairs? “I’ll think about it.”

He laid his head back on his pillow, closing his eyes. In the end, he’d met with Craig again, or had he? Didn’t matter. The Craig he’d known and loved died years ago.

Morrisey knew and loved someone else now. He reached out with his senses, touching Farren without waking him, then locating Arianna and Jessa. Various other travelers caught his attention, but he merely observed them and flitted on past. Finally, his senses came to rest on Carter.

Carter was everything he seemed to be: competent, loyal.

And soon to be Morrisey’s boss, apparently. He let consciousness slip. Everyone he cared about was in excellent hands. He vaguely registered Carter leaving the room, then the mattress dipping.

Warmth surrounded him, along with white light.

Farren. They lay in each other’s arms, light and darkness.

Balance.

“Want to talk?” he managed, though the words came out scratchy.

“I can do even better.” Farren nestled close, head on Morrisey’s shoulder. Suddenly, images appeared in Morrisey’s mind: the two of them together, lying in a big bed, sunlight streaming through a window. They weren’t at the gray abyss, Morrisey’s apartment, or even the safe house. They were somewhere else.

Somewhere that felt like home.

A strange gravelly noise made him look up. A gray tabby and a white long-haired cat lounged at the foot of the bed, purring. Though he didn’t know the place Farren showed him, the cats had been Colm’s.

“What is this place?” Morrisey asked, no longer surprised or afraid of Farren sharing his mind.

“A home for us. I’m tired of living at the compound, and who knows what’ll happen to it. I want a place where there’s sunlight and room to roam. A big kitchen to cook in. And I want a car. I’m so tired of driving the task force’s cars.”

Though Morrisey hadn’t thought of buying a house since Craig, the idea held merit.

Especially if Farren would be there.

Any idea held merit if Farren would be there. “Sounds wonderful.” Then Morrisey kissed Farren, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the press of lips, the swipe of his tongue, their mingled breaths.

Worries about the future could wait until later. For now, with Farren in his arms, Morrisey allowed himself a few moments of all being right in the world.

White light enveloped them.