Chapter Eleven

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What in the hell happened to you?"

Stef stood in the middle of Brandon's kitchen. He'd been almost ready to call them in as missing persons and if they were surprised to see their houseguest, he was even more surprised at their appearance.

"You need to leave." Brandon sounded serious, but Stef waved off his words.

"Not till you tell me what's going on."

Brandon closed his eyes, and… was that a tear? Stef moved toward Brandon and wrapped his arms around his unresisting friend. Were they even friends, or had they crossed the line to something more? "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it."

He'd answered his own question, as well as offered comfort.

Brandon stayed stiff for half a heartbeat, then melted against Stef's body. "There's a wraith," was all he managed to say.

"A wraith?" Stef directed his question at Layla.

"Some asshole named Corbin forced Brandon to power a spell, creating a wraith."

Stef tightened his grip on Brandon's shoulders. "Oh. Oh, no."

Stef knew a little bit about a lot of paranormal creatures — he'd made it his business to know, after all — and wraiths were a bad deal.

"Go home," Brandon said, his voice rough. "Go home and forget you ever met me, or the wraith will come for you, too."

Brandon's words were undercut by the strength of his arms around Stef's body. He might be saying "Go," but Stef would have had to wrestle his way out of that grip. "Best I stay with you," he said. "That way we can fight it together."

At that, Brandon eased away an inch or so. "There's no fighting this thing. Only a powerful necromancer can control it, and while I'm pretty sure they're flammable, we'll never get close enough to try."

Flammable?Stef hadn't come across that in his research, and he pretty much didn't care how Brandon knew.

"Let's just get some stuff and go," Layla said.

Stef frowned at her. "Where?"

"Not sure," she spoke through pursed lips.

"Then let me call April at SPAM. She'll help."

Brandon gave him a weak smile. "Why would SPAM help a couple of civilians?"

"Because you have a wraith after you, and they hate it when civilians' souls get sucked out of their bodies."

Something about that made Brandon shudder. "Don't talk about sucking."

He was so pale, so obviously distraught, that Stef simply pulled him closer. "Go pack an overnight bag and I'll make the arrangements."

Layla gave him a grim smile. "Thank you."

Brandon moved away slowly, leaving Stef's body cool. "Bring Sparky, too," Stef said. "And the others, if you want."

"We should. I don't know what the wraith will do to them."

Alone in the kitchen, Stef tapped in a phone number he'd never had cause to use.

"I'll text you the address."

The voice was female, but so lacking in warmth it might have come from a computer. "Hello?"

"You're Stefanos Barros, yes?"

"I am."

"Take them to the address I'll send you. It's as safe as I can make it on such short notice."

"April?"

She made an impatient sound. "Was there anything else?"

"Uh… no. Guess not. I'll look for your text."

The last bit was said to dead air. "Alrighty, then."

Layla came downstairs before Brandon, carrying a large backpack and a carry-on sized suitcase. "He's upstairs collecting squirrels or something."

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Stef's phone chimed with an incoming text. "April has a place for us to hide out."

"Good," was all she said. If Stef found it odd that Layla hadn't asked more questions about SPAM and April and the availability of safe houses, he chalked it up to her having seen her housemate raise a wraith.

She'd probably just hit her limit for weird.

They took Stef's Prius because it was less conspicuous than Brandon's land yacht and Layla's Prestige Mobile. The text with the address somehow triggered Stef's map app, and it wouldn't have surprised him if April found a way to drive his car remotely. Brandon, a black hole of tension and unhappiness, sat next to Stef in front. Layla was in the back seat with the box of undead critters. Sparky had apparently found her voice, and she crooned to them the whole way, while Layla yelled at her to shut up.

Yeah, not a relaxing ride by any stretch of the imagination.

They ended up in a nondescript townhouse at the edge of one of Seattle's older neighborhoods. Capitol Hill had been Seattle's queer stronghold since way back in the city's history, and while the gays and lesbians had infiltrated suburbia since marriage equity, Cap Hill still skewed rainbow.

The townhouse was on 12thAvenue, a busy enough road that Layla started muttering about safety in numbers in a way that hinted she didn't think the location was safe at all. Stef ignored her—April had sent him another text with the code to the front door lock. He just wanted to get Brandon inside and safe before anything bad happened.

If Brandon had been tense in the car, he fairly vibrated with nerves when they were in the house. "How do we know April isn't working with Corbin?" As he spoke, he paced the length of the kitchen, which really wasn't that long.

Stef had taken a seat at the breakfast bar. "Wonder if April's hospitality extends to a bottle of decent whisky," he murmured.

Layla snorted a laugh, and his phone chimed with an incoming text.

No.

"Jesus." Amused and appalled at the same time, he shoved the seat next to him away from the bar, timing it to block Brandon's progress. "Sit, dude, and tell me what's really going on."

Brandon clutched the chair back with both hands. "I can't."

Stef leaned forward, doing his best to look nonthreatening. "Sure you can. There's nothing you can say that will bother me."

With a bitter laugh, Brandon bent over, still holding the chair, and gave himself a flat-backed stretch. "What if I told you my stupidity got people killed?"

Okay, that was unexpected. When he didn't answer right away, Brandon laughed again, a sound that cut like knives. "Thought so. You don't want to know what happened Last Year."

Somehow he gave the words last and year capital letters, as if they'd been marked in his mind. Stef raised a hand and waved off his bitterness. "Hang on. Let me process that for a minute. I'll admit that you took me by surprise, but I gotta believe there's more to the story."

Sparky jumped onto the breakfast bar, plastic tube rattling against the cement countertop. Stef scratched her cheek, giving Brandon time to respond.

"I'm just an ordinary guy, you know? Undergrad degree in mathematics and a master's in computer science. Last Year… god, I really don't want to talk about it. I don't want to be in a world with necromancers and wraiths and, shit, cats that don't pee and poo."

Layla's giggle had notes of hysteria. "It's late. Why don't we all try to get some sleep?"

Brandon still held onto the chair. "What if it finds us? We'll all be dead."

"It won't." Stef hopped off his chair. "April wouldn't have let us stay someplace where we were at risk. I expect she's got us guarded, even if we can't see anyone."He covered Brandon's hands with his own. "I don't know what happened last year, but I find it hard to believe you did anything to deliberately cause anyone's death." Stef's phone chirped, but he ignored it. "Let's go to bed and see if I can distract you from all this drama."

Brandon exhaled as if he'd put down a heavy weight. He didn't smile, but Stef decided to call it a success. At least Brandon's jaw relaxed, and he no longer looked like he was going to crack a tooth.

Yeah, Stef would take what he could get.

They took the stairs slowly. Layla had claimed the small downstairs bedroom, saying she didn't want to be next to the primary suite where she'd have to listen to their shenanigans. Stef tried to protest, but she wasn't wrong. He fully intended to take Brandon's mind off his problems in any way possible.

"You don't have any pajamas," Brandon said, staring at the bed with such a mournful expression that Stef couldn't help but take him in his arms. He wanted to do a lot more than hug, but not unless Brandon could muster something closer to a smile.

"Would it help to tell me what happened tonight?"

"I made a wraith." Again, his voice was raw, as if he'd been screaming for hours.

"All by yourself?" Stef spoke with his lips against Brandon's forehead.

Brandon shook his head, no.

"How, then?"

"He had a spell, and he dragged the power out of me." Brandon's voice broke, and he was quiet for a long moment. Stef didn't jump in because he was pretty sure that getting the words out would help Brandon.

Brandon cleared his throat. "Yeah, so I don't want to call it rape, but that's what it felt like." He spoke in a rush, as if pausing would allow the darkness to swallow him up. "He used something I barely understand, and he used it to create evil."

Stef's throat closed up, and he couldn't have said a word, even if he knew what words to say. Instead, he guided Brandon toward the bed, moving him gently. Stef tugged back the comforter and with a soft shove, he gave Brandon a gentle push. When they were both stretched out on the surprisingly comfortable mattress, Stef wrapped himself around Brandon's body.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed. "That shouldn't have happened to you. I'm so, so sorry."

Brandon didn't respond, and after several moments, his breathing deepened. When he started to snore, Stef eased himself out of bed. His phone had been pinging regularly and he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything important.

Not Brandon's fault. This time nor last. He won't truly be safe until he learns how to protect himself. You must talk him into working with Clancy. And… thanks for being there for him.