5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

As Jack peered over his shoulder, the guy's proximity made Maltin sweat despite how cool his loft was. Online, he found three private detective agencies, but one only worked in Valleywood, another didn’t ever go near the city, and finally, the third was countrywide.

“Great. This is where we begin.”

“A private detective? I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.”

“He’s not from Valleywood, but close enough to drive here in an hour. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Jack’s jaw dropped but Maltin ignored him. He had to. Whenever he looked at Jack, he had extreme impulses to fuck him blind.

After dressing in a casual tan suit, he grabbed his wallet and herded Jack to the warehouse, opening the door of his pink convertible ’62 Ford Thunderbird for him. “Get in, please.”

“You don’t believe in being incognito much, huh?”

“I don’t drive ugly cars, even to blend in with others. Are you getting in?”

Jack chuckled dryly. “Can I drive?”

“No,” he said flatly, suddenly annoyed with his possible fated mate.

Fated mate. Although he’d known he could be a shifter, he never considered mating. He’d had lovers in the past, but the one time he thought about being with someone forever, they’d cheated and left him high and dry.

That was when he decided that other people weren’t for him. They were all out to hurt him, at least in his mind. To think of fate placing a mate with him, with no say so from Maltin, with no choice, made him as angry as it aroused him just to be near Jack.

He started the car with a roar of the engine, and Jack was smiling as he petted the black leather dashboard like it was a kitten. “God, this is beautiful. I’d have never gone for pink, but with the black, it’s gorgeous.”

“Please refrain from sexually assaulting my interior,” he said, though he hadn’t meant to sound so clipped.

Jack’s voice turned menacing. “Listen, I get your cars are so fucking precious to you but lay off me. I’m dealing with a lot of shit right now.”

“And I’m not?”

“Yeah, you are! Aren’t we kind of in this thing together? Maybe that pisses you off that you have to share something with me, a lowly fucking whore, but that’s the roll of the dice.”

Maltin heard the words and turned off the engine before turning his head slowly to Jack. “You’re what?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I thought you were a handyman!”

Jack stared in disbelief. “You are kidding, right?”

“Kidding about this? I assure you I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I didn’t hire you to…to…”

“Fuck you?”

“Well, yes!”

Jack slumped in his seat and groaned, “Fuck, my mouth. Yes, I’m a handyman, but the company where I work does a play on words. Hand-E-Men. Hands-E-Men, like men who work with their hands but don’t use any tools except what they were born with, so to speak. We do both or either.”

Maltin was so shocked that he didn’t know what to think. “Well, if I’d have known…”

“What? You wouldn’t have hired me? I am fixing your roof. Both or either, you know? Usually, I do some work for a guy, and then, when I’m done with that job, I give him one, or whatever. I pretty much figured, then hoped, that you didn’t want the second part of that contract.”

Of everything Jack had said, only the last part jumped out at him. “You hoped I wouldn’t? What’s wrong with me ?”

Jack finally looked over at him. “You’re a…well, you’re a prick.”

As much as he’d liked to deny that, he couldn’t. “I guess I do come off that way. Besides that, I’m…I mean, would you…?”

“Yeah, okay. You’re hot when you’re not talking.” Jack laughed and shook his head a little. “Can we leave now?”

“Yes. I suppose we should go.”

He pushed the remote on the big door in front of the warehouse, and up it went, squealing and creaking until it was open. Maltin started forward, hitting the remote again once they were through.

Jack mentioned, “I can work on that too if you’d like.”

“Let’s see if we’re mated first. I’d hate to…I mean, you know.”

“You aren’t going to pay me to fuck, if that’s what you’re concerned about if we’re mated. If not, and you want to fuck, then pay me.”

Maltin cringed at that. “I don’t pay for sex, Jack.”

They mainly drove in silence, but Jack did ask if he could play the radio. Maltin wasn’t sure what kind of music he’d want to play, so he turned it on himself and found a nice classical station.

“Really? You can drive to this music?”

“Of course! Let the music flow through you. This music is classical for a reason, Jack. It’s big and thrums through a body, making every cell and breath alive.”

“Cheesy.”

Maltin’s temper was in check, but barely. “Your family, they’re upper crust. Are you telling me you weren’t raised with culture?”

“I was raised in a room whenever people would come over,” he said in tones that told of his anger and resentment.

“Why, Jack? What was it that made you so resentful of your family?”

Jack stared at the floor of the car, unmoving for a long time. Maltin wanted to press him but refrained.

Finally, Jack huffed and asked, “I guess, you being my mate, you will find out eventually, right?”

“Find out what, Jack?”

“I have no powers. None. I am basically human, or I was before…I found out all this.”

Maltin understood then why Jack hadn’t tried to save himself. Knowing that eased him that he’d saved Jack from that desperate fall. “I see.”

“I knew it. You hate me now!”

Maltin only laughed. “Why? Do you think you’re the first offspring of magical people who were born without powers? Not at all. And I don’t hate you. I’m somewhat of a pariah in my family, too. Their powers are infinite. They can use them all day, every day, without consequence. Me? If I use them too much, I will perish.”

“Perish? Are you serious?”

“Very. My magic keeps me alive. My family has very long lives. Even the fully magical members die eventually, but they have spells to prolong them further. It’s rumored we come from a demigod, but that is only a rumor. The only reason I’ve lived so long is not using my powers.”

Jack looked confused, and Maltin couldn’t blame him. “You can’t use your powers, so you don’t die, and your family uses theirs to live longer. How does that make sense?”

“Does all magic make sense to you? Does it make sense your family are witches, and you’re a shifter?”

Jack slumped farther in the seat. “No,” he said as he pouted.

“Magic doesn’t always make sense, and magical families make less sense. That’s why it’s called the supernatural.”

“Still, it’s weird. And how do you know? Are there many people in your family that aren’t full witches? Maybe they’re lying.”

“They’re not. I aged overnight once when I used my powers, Jack. I went from a sweet mid-puberty twelve-year-old to a raging twenty-year-old. At least I looked it. I still felt twelve, of course. I stopped going to the same school that year. It was tough on me.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It is.”

Maltin hated confessing his secrets to Jack or anyone, but Jack had confessed a huge secret of his own, and he was right. As mates, they’d share a lot, including secrets. “Jack, please, don’t think I judge you. I’d never, as I have no place to judge anyone.”

“You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“If you don’t tell anyone we are or might be, or whatever, hellhounds.”

“Why would I? Sounds like we’ll be torched and pitchforked out of town. I like Valleywood. I mean, I hate what I have to do for money, but it’s better than being hidden away like a dirty secret. Wait, I guess I will be.”

“I’d never hide you away, Jack. Just because I don’t want to reveal to the world that you and I are hellhounds, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be proud to walk into any room with you.”

Jack was staring over at him, but Maltin pretended to keep his eyes on the road. It was becoming too real too quickly, and they barely liked each other. They’d fought more than been friendly.

When they arrived at the private investigator’s office, Maltin was pleasantly surprised when it wasn’t like he’d expected. He’d thought for sure he would walk into an office straight out of an old noir movie, where the man behind the cluttered desk would be wearing a stained shirt, balding, with a cigar hanging from his mouth as he drank cheap whiskey from a stained white coffee cup.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. The front of the office was sleek and modern, with a standing desk and a shining black tablet where the receptionist typed in their names. White walls were decorated with wood and metal sculptures, and the chairs in the waiting area were armless and imported from Spain.

The receptionist wore a classic black dress and had perfectly done French tip nails, and her hair was back in a braided bun. Maltin was impressed but a little disappointed. He’d have liked to pretend to be in that noir movie, where the detective would have called women skirts, bottle blondes, cookies, or broads . So, that wasn’t exactly PC, but old movies were anything but PC. He’d smoke a butt , call himself a dick, and talk about how he just did a dime in Joliet.

So much for expectations.

When they were called into his office, Dennis Peterson was a regular-looking man with a full head of dark hair and no stains on his freshly pressed white dress shirt. He was relaxing behind his glass and onyx desk with an air of calmness. “Gentlemen,” he said as he stood and proffered his hand to each of them.

After we sat in comfortable wooden scoop chairs, he asked us, “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

Jack clammed up like he’d lost the ability to speak, but Maltin didn’t mind. “We’ve recently discovered that Jack here is very different from his parents. We have no idea why.”

“Uh, okay…can you be more specific?”

Using magic was the only option if the man was far enough from Valleywood that he didn’t know about magical people. It was worth the few months it would take for him to use just that tiny bit.

Maltin whispered, “ Non dicas animae quod confessuri sumus .”

Jack’s head spun to him. “Did you just,” he lowered his voice to finish, “magic?”

“Tiny bit. Only a few months’ worth.”

Dennis smiled and said, “No need for spells, Mr. Graves. I’m quite aware of the magical folk from Valleywood.”

Relieved, Matlin sighed, “Thank goodness. And this…even from those magical folk, will be confidential?”

“Of course. I understand how important it is to be discrete.”

More relief. “Good,” Maltin said. Then he laid out the story from top to bottom. Once he was finished, he glanced over to Jack, seeing how pale he was. “Jack, he’ll be discrete.”

“I understand that, and I believe it, but I’ve kept this secret since I moved to Valleywood. Excuse me for being a little iffy about telling two people in one day.”

Dennis said, “I assure you, I’ve heard much worse, Jack. And you’re sure you weren’t adopted?”

“I’m very sure. I’ve heard my birth story; I’ve seen pictures of my mother in the hospital with me. Back then, she was proud to have me for a son, so there were a ton of pictures.”

“Strange. I’m not an expert on witches, mind you, but enough to know that it isn’t usual for a shifter to be produced by two witches. Like your…dare I say, a possible mate, a shifter would have had to have been in your lineage.”

“If there were one, they would have hidden it, so it’s possible.”

“Yes, that would have been a stain on the family, one of prestige, anyway. Full blood has always been important to families like that.”

Jack looked over at Maltin and then reached for his hand. As Maltin let Jack take it, he felt a bussing of electricity in their touch. There was little point in denying there was something between them more than surface attraction.

“Okay, give me the details of what you all need me to do, and I’ll quote a price. If it’s acceptable, I’ll start on it today, and I should have something for you in a couple of days.”

“That fast?” Jack squeaked.

“Yes. I have friends that help me get into programs that I wouldn’t normally have access to. Adoption records, for instance. Remember, gentlemen, discretion.”

Maltin felt himself smiling, and Jack nodded, coming to grips that he may have been adopted, no matter all the pictures. “Thank you, sir. We’ll be waiting for your call.”

The ride back was even quieter, but Maltin understood. Thinking of being adopted weighed heavily on Jack. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Not your fault. At least it would explain why my family could give a flying fuck about me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Jack groaned, “It’s true.”

Maltin wanted to take him in his arms and hold him, but their heat together was getting worse, and that would result in them fucking, he was sure. As much as that would satisfy him in some ways, it was too soon, too…biological. That wasn’t romantic or special; for Jack, he wanted it to be special.

“So, your name is really Jackson. I think it fits you better.”

“I never thought so. It’s pretentious, and I’m not.”

Sulking like a child made Jack terribly cute. “I don’t think so. I think you’re more refined than you give yourself credit for. You’re articulate, handsome, groomed well. You act like some bum living out of a cardboard box or something.”

“Bum? People that have no homes are not bums,” he scolded Maltin. “God, you really are old-fashioned in your views. No wonder all your cars are old.”

“Well, I’m old, Jack. I may look thirty, but I’m much older than that.”

“That’s no excuse to be bigoted.”

Taking offense to that, he gripped the leather steering wheel cover tightly as he gritted, “I’m no bigot. I was a gay man long before it became cool to be so.”

“Cool? How detached are you?”

“Detached? Do you realize what it was like to be gay in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries?”

“You’re really that old?”

He turned to see that Jack was laughing. “What is so funny?”

“Talk about an age gap. We’re worse than Aaron and Sam.”

“Who are they?”

Jack laughed more. “Never mind.”

After Jack’s laughter finally died, Maltin realized that he was calling the two of them a couple. “Jack, would that bother you terribly?”

“What?”

“Our age difference?”

“You don’t look it, so no. Would it bother you?”

If he was truthful with himself, he’d been attracted to Jack right off, but his trust issues and the love of being alone kept him from allowing his mind to work that out to anything but a transaction for his work. “No, Jack, but…we’re not getting along well so far.”

“I’ve seen a lot of couples. We’re not supposed to be all sweet and sappy all the time. How boring is that? We have…spice! Yeah, we’re spicy. Besides, don’t shifters like to bite and scratch and all that?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never been intimate with a shifter.”

“I have been with plenty, but they weren’t shifted while we were doing it,” Jack said nonchalantly.

Feeling suddenly jealous and possessive, he tried to move past the comment and found his anger kept surging.

Jack must have noticed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said a little too quickly, snapping the words like he was a shark after prey.

“Are you…jealous?”

More anger made his foot a little heavy on the accelerator. “Jealous? Don’t be absurd.”

Jack leaned over as far as the seatbelt would allow and commented, “Uh, you are driving a hundred and twenty miles an hour right now.”

He forced himself to be calm after backing his foot off the peddle. “We don’t even know each other, and we’re supposed to be mates, and what? Have children? I don’t even like children.”

“Hey, I am not exactly dying to become a dad. As far as being mated? It’s gonna fuck with my job a little.”

Again, he had to bring up the fact he was a whore. How the hell would Maltin Graves deal with the fact his mate is a whore? “Can we, maybe, stop talking about that?”

“What?” Clenching his jaw, he didn’t say a word, but already, Jack read him well. “Really? Are you embarrassed of me?”

Maltin had never rolled his eyes in his life until that moment. “No! Who would I be embarrassed in front of? I don’t have friends, and I barely have colleagues.”

“Then what?”

Maltin pulled off on their exit and slowed to a stop before turning right and starting for home. “How would you like knowing I was with a lot of men?”

“Being you’re…I don’t know, a thousand years old, I’d be pretty stupid to think you weren’t with a lot of men.”

“I’m nowhere near a thousand years old! Jesus, Jack!”

The city came into view a few minutes later, and he let out a pent-up breath, his mind easing the moment he knew he was nearly home. “Jack…I’m just…this is a lot. For you as well, I’m sure.”

“Yes, you’re right. Maybe we just don’t talk about men we’ve been with for a while. Even though I’m a little curious about how sex has changed.”

Maltin heard that and suddenly burst out laughing. Jack laughed with him, and they were much calmer for the rest of the trip to the warehouse.

When they got into the loft, his phone rang, and it was the private investigator. “Already?”

Jack was bouncing nervously. “Answer it!”

Maltin fully intended to, but it was like pulling a tooth for him. Finally, on the sixth ring, he pressed the green spot and then the speaker so they could both hear as they sat on stools at the kitchen bar.

He placed the phone between them and said, “Hello, Mr. Peterson.”

“Call me Dennis, please. Well, gentlemen, I have the first answer for you. Jack was recorded as having been born at the hospital in Valleywood. Your father was there on business, and he brought your mother along. You came two weeks early.”

“I’ve heard the story. So…they are my parents?”

“It seems so, but I’m looking into something else.”

Maltin looked at Jack, whose brow creased in worry, and asked Dennis, “Is it something he should worry about?”

“I’m not sure if it’s anything at all. Like I said, I’d like to look into it before I say too much. I don’t want to put worry on you that is unfounded.”

Jack’s head moved side to side slowly. “I will worry anyway. Can you tell me something?”

“There were three other people there that had children the same day you were born, Jack. Two were shifters, one man and one woman, and the other was a human woman.”

Maltin pushed, “And?”

“And one of the shifter families lost their child. He died soon after he was born.”

Maltin watched Jack struggling to understand that. It was obvious he did, but what he struggled with was to think of something, anything else that could explain it. Then, he did. “That can’t be. The hospital wouldn’t do that.”

“I’d like to think the same, Jack. I want to go and meet these shifters and see if there is any way you could be their child. Humans have made that mistake a lot. There are always stories like this in the news.”

“I can see accidentally exchanging the live children, but one being dead and the other alive? That isn’t the same,” Maltin thought aloud.

Then he wished he didn’t. Jack’s shoulders slumped, and his head lowered. “Fuck.”

“I’d like your permission to travel to them. They live in northern Canada.”

Maltin hurried to say, “Whatever you need to do to set Jack’s mind at ease or give him the truth. Go, charge it to the expenses.”

“I will call the second I learn anything. I do need something, however. Will you send a picture of Jack? I doubt that it would be any proof, but I have pictures of his Pengrove family. If I can’t find exact proof, that might help some.”

“Of course. I’ll send one as soon as the call is over.”

Jack’s face was pale and drawn, but he knew the picture was necessary. He didn’t smile and, in fact, looked nearly murderous. Maltin took the picture and sent it anyway, then set the phone on the counter. “Jack…please, don’t be upset. We don’t know anything yet.”

“Sure, we do. We know I am a hellhound, and a guy that practically hates me is my fated fucking mate. I’m just jumping for joy.”

Maltin rose from the stool and took his hand, pulling him gently until he slid from the stool and followed him to the couch. As they sat, Maltin was closer to him than he’d intended, but he didn’t think Jack needed to be distant.

“I do not hate you. I act the way I do to push people away from me. Over the years, I’ve discovered that friendships and closer relationships end in my heart being broken. People, whether human, supe, or whatever, break your heart. But with you, I felt immediately that you were different. Maybe it’s as simple as being mated, but I don’t think so.”

“You were…you were nice to me before I flew off the ladder.”

His voice was almost childlike. He was unsure. The trauma of finding things out about himself he’d never guessed was wearing on him. “I think you need to rest. Go up to my bed and rest. I was going to clean the Thunderbird.”

Thinking he’d get an argument, he was surprised when Jack nodded and rose, heading for the stairs. Maltin watched him head up to the loft bedroom, and once he was out of sight, he went immediately to his desk and opened his computer.

On VWQuest Search Engine, the search engine for all things supernatural, he started looking for the book Jack had mentioned, with the families known to produce hellhounds. It wasn’t long before he found it and pulled up a PDF of the section he was looking for.

Sure enough, Graves was on the list. He looked at the other names and recognized a few, but he knew no one personally. After texting their investigator, he received a text with the name of the shifter family that Dennis was going to see.

Garmer.

It was another name beginning with G, and as Maltin was looking for his own, he saw the name. It was there.

Maltin’s heart sank for Jack. There was little doubt that he was a hellhound and little doubt he’d been born to others.

Maltin stood and quietly ascended the stairs. Jack was sleeping peacefully, his face slack from all the day's worry. His heart went out to the beautiful young man that fate had somehow given him.

How would Maltin tell him? Could he?

He had to. The question was, how?