Chapter 11

Matt

The helicopter touches down in the middle of the desert, just like Marc said it would. I don't know why I doubted him—he's been in complete control of this situation from the second my gurney got wheeled out of my hospital room. Nobody questioned him coming out to the helipad with us, and nobody questioned him getting into the helicopter.

A lifetime of training—not to mention my ethics—hates that he's messing with people's minds, even at the most surface level. But since Dylan has confirmed from the code on the job sheet that the attack was targeted at me, not just any hunter, I'm not really in the mood to hang around the hospital, injured and vulnerable. I'd rather be in another state and in full fighting form.

The crew member riding in back with us opens the door, and Marc turns to me. "Are you ready?"

I nod.

There's a surge in my body, and even though Marc and morphine have been keeping my pain dampened, I suddenly feel the difference between that and no pain at all.

I also feel like a wet noodle.

"Whoa."

Marc frowns. "Damn humans," he mutters. "Nutrients." His eyes narrow, and energy slowly returns to my limbs. "Apologies. I didn't allow for the amount of strength that would take from you."

I'm so preoccupied with the remnants of that trippy healing surge that I almost don't realize he just admitted to making a mistake.

Almost.

"Aw, look at you! Living with humans has rubbed off on you. We fuck things up all the time, and now so do you!"

The look of utter disgust he gives me just makes me grin. I can do that now without my face hurting. "Unstrap me from this thing."

He quirks a brow and appears to be thinking about just leaving me strapped to the gurney.

"Please? Ian will be mad if you don't."

Sighing, he waves a hand, and the crew guy comes over to unfasten the twenty zillion straps holding me to the gurney. I've still got casts on my arms and legs, but that's not gonna stop me from making like a tree and leaving this chopper. I'm sure one of my brothers can get them off me.

I sit up, then gracefully swing my legs off the gurney and hop down.

Or at least, that's how I envision it. The reality is that I'm sprawled face down on the floor of the helicopter, and my newly healed face does not appreciate being slammed into sheet metal.

"Ow," I mumble.

"Must you?" Marc asks. "I just finished repairing you. Honestly, you humans have no respect for fine craftsmanship."

Rolling to my back, I scowl up at him. "Shut up and help me. I'm weighed down, and these things weren't designed for moving around in."

"What the fuck is going on?" Connor yells from outside, and I twist my head around to see him and the others standing about twenty feet away with a couple of cars—including mine.

Marc reaches down and hauls me up. "Come on." He shoves me out of the chopper, then uses his demon magic to stop me from sprawling in a heap. Instead, I'm standing in the dirt, listening to him give orders to the crew. Then he jumps down, grabs my arm, and half carries me far enough that the helicopter can safely take off.

We turn to watch it go, and not until it's a speck in the sky do I glance over at him. "Than— Hey, how come you're not dirty?" I'm covered from head to toe in dust, and I'm pretty sure my hair is a windblown mess. He, on the other hand, looks like he just stepped out of a day spa or something.

He sniffs disdainfully, examining the sleeve of his suit jacket and flicking away something only he can see. "Dirt is for other people."

Believe it or not, that's actually an attitude improvement for him. He's acknowledged that he's people.

"What the hell, dude?" Dylan reaches me, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks and then trace out the contours of my face, as though checking that everything's been healed. "Why were you lying on the floor?"

I grin and turn my head to kiss his palm. I love that I can do that in front of people now. "It wasn't a choice I made. All this extra hardware is awkward."

He frowns at the casts. "Shit, how do we get them off?"

"Marc'll take care of it," Ian confidently assures us as he strolls over. "Epic faceplant, bro."

"My nose thought so." I turn expectantly to Marc and hold out one arm. "So…?"

"When, precisely, did I become your lackey?"

"Please?" Ian steps up close to him and puts a hand on Marc's chest. "The sooner Matt's safely on his way, the sooner we can go home and have some alone time. It's been a whole week , you know."

My casts thud to the dirt, and Dylan and I stare down at them. "That was…" I can't think of the right word.

"Are they still whole?" Dylan asks, crouching down for a better look. "Oh my god, they're all still in one piece. How did he do this?"

"Do I need to ask what's going on here?" Connor demands. "Ian, get the fuck away from him. Isn't it bad enough that I know what you do without actually having to see it?"

"They're just standing there, Con," Gabe points out patiently, but he doesn't look all that thrilled about it either. As hard as I've found it to get used to Marc being part of Ian's life, our brothers have struggled a whole heap more. "Matty, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," I answer honestly as Ian shoots Connor a defiant glare and takes Marc's hand. "Never better. Marc even refilled my energy tanks. I feel like I've just had a weeklong vacation napping in a hammock." I consider what happened the last time I took a long nap in a hammock. "Without the sunburn."

My big bro smiles and nods. "Good. Marc, everything went smoothly with the helicopter crew?"

Marc looks offended. "Of course."

"Thank you. Dylan, are things covered from your end?"

"Yeah, some stuff's already deleted and the rest is scrambled, but… how does nobody care about this? These are still fully intact ." He pokes at one of the casts, and it rolls over in the dirt.

"We'd rather not know," Gabe says honestly. "Con and I will get rid of them before we take our car back to the rental company. Our flight's in four hours, so if you're sure you're okay…?" He looks back at me, and I give him a monster hug.

"I'm fine, Gabe," I whisper. "Thank you."

His arms squeeze me. "Don't ever scare me like that again. Come and visit soon—bring Dylan. Tom wants to get to know him better."

"Will do," I promise as I step back. Connor swoops in for a hug next, while Gabe and Dylan start collecting the discarded casts.

"Rest up," my adopted big bro orders. "I know you feel great, but take it easy for a while anyway."

"That's the plan." Well, I'll do some training still. I don't want to get rusty. And I plan to have a whole lot of sex with Dylan, but that relaxes me, so it's the same thing as resting, really.

He lets me go with a final squeeze, and then he and Gabe give Ian and Dylan the same treatment. Dyl looks startled at first, then happy. He'll get used to being part of a family again.

Marc gets wary nods before they get into their rental car and head back toward Reno with a final wave.

"Fuck, I miss them already," I admit as I watch the dust plume up behind them.

"Me too. We should plan to visit. Soon. Hey, did Dylan tell you he traveled via demon?"

What the hell is he?—

A whole lot of loose puzzle pieces slot into place. "Oh my god . That's how you got to me that first night?" I round on my boyfriend. "You let him disintegrate you?"

"I did no such thing," Marc snaps.

"I needed to get to you," Dyl says over the top of him. "It was going to take me four hours in the car, Matt. That was too long, so when I realized that Ian was coming… that way, I told them to pick me up."

" Pick you up? Like he's a fucking bus?" I don't know why I'm so mad. Dylan's clearly fine, and I know Ian lets Marc teleport him or whatever it is all the time. Though I try not to think about it.

"Thank you!" Marc sounds mollified. "I am not a bus."

Dylan rolls his eyes. "Chill. Also, that reminds me; we need to pick up my car, if it hasn't been stolen or towed."

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," I persist stubbornly. "You let a higher demon use his magic on you." The words are fully out of my mouth before I realize how epically stupid they are.

All three of them stare at me.

"Bro…" Ian shakes his head. "Major fail. Like, I'm offended and all, but still. No."

I try backtracking. "It's not the same?—"

"No, it's not," Dyl snaps. "You made the decision so you'd heal faster, but guess what? You only got to make that decision because we had already decided to let a higher demon use his magic to save your fucking life. If I hadn't told Ian to pick me up—oh sorry, you don't like those words. How did you put it? If I hadn't told Ian to have Marc disintegrate me ?—"

"That's not how it works." Marc sighs.

"—then I wouldn't have been there for that decision. I'd have been driving through the desert in the dark, alone and terrified in the middle of the night. And I might even have argued with Ian when I got there and realized what they were doing. I hate myself for that, but I might have, Matt, because he was using demon magic on you and all my life, that has been the worst thing that could possibly happen. So no, I'm not sorry I let Marc use magic on me, because it caused me no harm, I got to you faster, and I did not fucking hesitate when he said he could use it to save your life!"

As if I'm not stunned enough by that rant, he punctuates it by punching me in the stomach.

"Oof!" I double over, gasping.

"It was good to see you again, Ian," Dylan says while I'm still recovering. "We should catch up in person more often. I bet Marc would like San Francisco—there's tons of pretentious places we can take him."

"I am not pretentious. I am discerning."

"Babe, you're pretentious as fuck. Yeah, we'll definitely take you up on that, Dyl. Maybe in a couple weeks? We have a couple of classes to make up first, but then we'll zip up to visit you both, bring Matt some new gear. I wanna see your lair."

Dylan laughs as I finally manage to straighten. For someone who claims to love me, he didn't bother to pull that punch. "My what?"

"You know, your lair where you do your woo-woo computer stuff."

"You watch too many movies. I work at a desk in the second bedroom of my apartment."

I step back a little so he can't see me and shake my head at Ian, then hold my hands out to show how big Dylan's workstation is, followed by four fingers so he knows how many monitors there are. Marc looks baffled, but Ian and I share a unique bond, and he instantly gets it.

"Still can't wait to see it" is all he says to Dyl.

My boyfriend shakes his head and turns to Marc, sticking out his hand. "Thank you. For letting me travel with you and for saving Matt's life. I know sometimes he doesn't seem worth the effort, but he really is." Ouch. "I hope…" He takes a deep breath. "I hope we can be friends."

Marc was reaching out to shake Dylan's hand, but that last sentence makes him falter. "You do?" He glances at Ian. "Why?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," my brother-bestie mutters, and Dylan laughs.

"Because Ian loves you, and you saved Matt's life when you didn't have to. We didn't know you could do that, so nobody would have blamed you if you didn't. Plus, you're really trying to do right by us humans even though you hate us, so I figure that's gotta be worth something. I was in for the project, but now I hope we can be actual friends."

I fall a little bit further in love with him, even as guilt stabs me. I should have made more of an effort with Marc. He's annoying as fuck, but he is trying.

In every sense of the word.