Chapter 36

THIRTY-SIX

"These three missing persons cases came into the office after the Rift anniversary." Mac handed Liam copies of his department files, then nodded at the two green-hued crime scene paintings leaned against the wall of his study. "Paris was able to call two of the souls to him. Got us some more details."

Since the Stick, Paris wasn't only able to dive into souls' memories. He was also able to call souls to him, a game changer when it came to Mac's cold cases and the department's missing persons ones. It had barely been a week since the Stick, and they'd already solved multiple cases. Mac wanted him to slow down, to pace himself as he recovered, but Paris was determined to help, to make sure as many souls as possible reached their destination before winter solstice, not wanting anyone else to try and manipulate them for evil.

Liam flipped open the first file and glanced between the photo of the young woman in the file and Paris's painting of that same woman floating in a lake, a letterman jacket thrown over her. "She's on my list," Liam said, then set that file aside and opened the next. "Not on my list," he said of the second person Paris had painted, "but I'll send out word to the other reapers." He snapped a photo of the painting.

"And we'll keep investigating the third," Mac said.

Liam dropped the files on the desk, then rested back against the edge. "This doesn't seem so bad."

Mac sighed and leaned a hip next to his, raking a hand through his hair. "I should have let all of you help me sooner."

"It was a good lesson for me." He bumped their shoulders together. "And you're a good mentor too, regardless."

"He's also a good husband," Paris called from the adjoining room. "So far!"

Liam laughed out loud, one of the things Mac had always loved about his brother. Something he was trying to learn to do more of himself, smiling as he joked, "I think Mom left that tent up on purpose."

"I don't think there's any think about it." Liam pushed off the desk, chuckling. "You and Paris will be down for dinner tonight?"

"Are you sure you don't want to move up here?" Mac asked as he followed him into the other room. "This is the reaper's perch, and you're the reaper now."

"The big house is our home. This is yours and Paris's."

"Until we get a place by the ocean," Paris amended from behind his easel at the window. "Tell Rena I'll bring bread."

"We'll see you in a bit," Liam said with a departing wink before disappearing out the door.

"Did you have another vision?" Mac asked as he circled the couch. "Or are you painting your oce—" The rest of his question died, words caught in his throat, blocked by his heart that had suddenly lodged there. "Paris..." He stared in awe at the painting of himself, asleep on his stomach in their bed, a soft smile on his face, his left hand on the pillow, wedding band bright, reflecting all the colors of the aura that shimmered around him. The blue, violet, and green flowing, the rivers of red and pink a beautiful swirling design throughout. "This is what it looks like?"

"Now, yes," Paris said, as much awe in his voice as Mac felt in his soul, in the bond that sang between them.

He reached out a hand, drawn to the swirls of red and pink, but Paris stopped him short, grabbing his wrist. "It's still wet."

Using Paris's hand around his wrist, Mac turned him in his arms, his front to Paris's back, admiring the painting over his shoulder. "You went with the smile?"

Paris angled his head to look up at him, his big brown eyes warm with love and a touch of violet, their soul bond shining through. "I've got forever to paint the smirk."

"I like the sound of that," Mac said as he brushed his lips across his husband's, repeating the promise that tied their souls together until their end, as Mary said, hopefully many, many years in the future. Until then... "Forever."