Chapter Seven

"I call upon those who rule the underworld. Hear me, Hades, Pluto, and all you Shinigami. Share your power, Owuo, Abaddon, and Shiva. Take this creature to your breast, oh Bast, and relieve it of its unnatural life. St. Michael, balance your scales and return this creature to its rest." Brandon snorted. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

Stef's elbow jabbed his ribs. "Those aren't the words."

With a snort, Brandon handed him his phone back.

"Did it work?" Layla stood in the doorway, peering in as if she was afraid the black magic they were working would stain her clothing.

"I'm afraid not." Stef tucked his phone away, his pretty lips in a pout. "Someone didn't approach the incantation with the right intention."

"Dude, I promise you on a stack of Bibles that I had no intention whatsoever when I raised the thing from the dead." Brandon's head ached and his stomach was growling. "Let's leave this stuff here and we'll try again later."

He still wasn't entirely over being mad at Stef for accusing him of lying. I mean, why would I make shit this up? He hadn't, he wouldn't, and he just really wanted all of this nonsense to be over.

Stef put a comforting hand on his shoulder, as if he could guess at Brandon's state of mind. "I'll get my tablet and we can look up alternate incantations over dinner."

"No." Layla spun around and ran downstairs. She sounded like she might be crying.

Brandon ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes she acts like the critters are kinda cool, but then she freaks out like they're ruining her life."

Without moving his hand, Stef pulled him into a hug. At first Brandon resisted, but then the man's warmth and his intoxicating hair product drew Brandon in. He wrapped his arms around Stef's slim waist and, for one long moment, let himself breathe.

"We'll figure this out." Stef's lips brushed Brandon's neck, making him shiver.

"I hope so." Brandon hadn't had a chance to tell Stef about his meeting with Spike. "He gave me a cell phone."

Stef eased away. "Who?"

"Spike, the guy from SPAM. Apparently it's pre-programmed with contact information for Clancy the Necromancer."

"Oh!" Stef's smile grew wide. "You know how to get ahold of Clancy? He's weirder than skaditch, but he knows his business."

"Weirder than what?" Brandon tried, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Skaditch. Surely you've heard that one before."

"Nah." Chuckling, he pulled Stef close, resting his chin on the man's dark hair. "We should go downstairs and make sure Layla isn't packing her stuff."

"Mm-hmm. We should."

Neither of them moved.

"I might have to knock a hundred bucks off her rent each month until we get this problem solved."

Stef shook his head, making his hair tickle Brandon's nose. "You're a good guy, Brandon Charles."

Brandon pressed a kiss to Stef's brow, then stepped out of his embrace. Together they went downstairs, Stef's hand on Brandon's back. It was like they both needed that point of connection despite how angry they'd been.

Layla wasn't, in fact, packing. She had her laptop at the dining room table and she greeted them with, "I've ordered pizza. You're welcome."

Brandon went straight to the refrigerator. "I'm guessing you'd rather have wine than beer?"

"At this point, anything sounds good," Stef said, pulling up a chair next to Layla. The table was good quality, solid wood with a glossy veneer, and the chairs had padded seats. Brandon hadn't done much to make the house look lived in, but he for sure had invested in furniture that'd be around for a while.

All that time he spent with his nose glued to a computer screen had better be worth something.

He brought over two beers for him and Layla and a wineglass for Stef. He had a couple bottles of red that he kept for company, bottles his friend Tom had chosen before he… Tom.

Don't think about Last Year.

Carefully, Brandon set the bottles and the glass on the table, at the same time breathing through a wave of pain. His best friend, Tom Gunnerson, hadn't survived the events of Last Year. Brandon did his best to keep all of that locked away, but little things could trigger him. Little things like opening one of the ridiculously expensive bottles of wine Tom had insisted he buy.

Setting the bottle on the counter — granite, with a busy pattern that he'd hate if he actually owned the house — he allowed himself to just feel for a moment. Sadness and…fear. He was afraid that if they drank all of Tom's wine, he'd lose his memoriesof Tom, too.

He was still wrestling his emotions into something functional when Stef said, "Are you okay over there?"

Brandon had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Yeah. Just trying to remember where I put the wine key."

"The one in the silverware drawer?" Layla asked, just a little salty.

"Um, yeah." Brandon retrieved it and went to work opening the bottle.

"You really don't have to…" Stef came up behind him, resting his cheek against Brandon's arm. "Wait a minute. What are you opening? That's like a hundred dollar bottle of wine!"

Brandon shrugged, happy to have clearly impressed someone who knew more about wine than he did. "It's that or—" He pointed at the other bottle in the cupboard, the one that had cost three or four times that much.

"If you were trying to impress me, consider it done." Stef held up his glass and Brandon poured. "Mmm." Stef sniffed and then drank. "Oh, that's lovely."

"I want to try some," Layla piped up from the table. "Bring me a glass."

Brandon took down two more glasses of wine and brought them to the table, along with the bottle. He poured some for Layla and a little bit for himself. Beer went better with pizza, but he wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked when they were all situated.

Layla glanced at him over her laptop, wineglass in hand. "I'm googling necromancer incantations. Maybe Stef didn't try the right one."

"It's possible." Stef raised his glass to toast her from across the table. "Might be worth it for Brandonakis here to send Clancy a text."

"Okay." Layla set down her glass and put both palms on the table. "As far as I know, you guys just met what? Two days ago? And you're already at the cheek-rubbing-and-pet-name stage. What did I miss?"

Stef laughed, but Brandon's cheeks burned like someone had set them on fire. "We met three days ago," he said. Like that extra twenty-four hours made all the difference. Stef half-rose from his chair and bussed a kiss on Brandon's cheek.

"He's very sweet when you get to know him," Stef said, and Layla shrieked with giggles.

"I was pretty sure my gay BFF would be single forever," she said, still giggling. "Well, mazel tov and what have you."

Brandon dared to glance at Stef, who was grinning at him. They weren't ready for mazel tovs quite yet, but Brandon couldn't deny that he thought Stefanos Barros was pretty darned cool.

Just don't talk him into anything that gets him killed.

That little voice in his head acted like a bucket of cold water, wiping the smile from his face and the heat from his cheeks. "We should, um, figure things out." He tried for stern but was pretty sure he sounded more desperate than anything else.

"Yeah, where were we?" Layla ducked down behind her laptop screen. "Most of what I'm finding is just crap."

"That was my experience, too, which is why we should ping Clancy." Stef gave Brandon an expectant look, one he tried to ignore.

"I'm not sure we should involve him."

Layla interrupted before Stef could argue with him. "Who's Clancy and why should we contact him? Or not," she added when Brandon growled.

"He's a necromancer—"

Stef cut in. "Are you familiar with SPAM?"

"Like, the meat in the can?"

"Special Processing and Management." Grinning like he was having the best time ever, Stef explained SPAM to Layla, or the tl;dr version of it, anyway.

"So you guys are both members of this secret society that I never knew about although it's been all around me my whole life?" Layla sounded both amused and annoyed.

"I am," Stef said.

"I'm not." Brandon spoke on top of him.

"He is too." Stef rolled his eyes at Brandon. "He just doesn't want to admit it."

"I'm a goddamn software developer with a… problem."

Layla closed her laptop. "You call bringing home dead animals a problem?" She raised her glass to him. "I'd say it's more than that. Closer to a fucking catastrophe if you ask me." She took a healthy swallow of wine. "You don't need my help. Brandon here just needs to get a clue."

She might have had more to say, but the doorbell cut her off. She went to retrieve the pizza while Stef took hold of Brandon's hand.

"Look, I know this wasn't one of your career goals, but—"

"You don't think I had ‘turn into a necromancer' on my to-do list post-college graduation?"

Stef tugged him closer. "I get that. It wasn't on your list any more than ‘treat the neighborhood werewolves' was on mine. But here we are."

"Here we are."

"And here I am with the pizza." Layla sashayed in, and for a few minutes they were busy organizing plates and slices and pouring more wine.

Except for Brandon, who wanted beer and time to think. Something about Stef admitting that he hadn't wanted to work for SPAM unsettled him. He rolled the beer bottle between his palms, poking at his reasons for his stubbornness. Contacting Clancy wouldn't be an automatic sign-up and it might actually help him get out of this mess.

If it didn't pull him in deeper.

Stef and Layla got involved in a game of "Do you know so-and-so?" which gave Brandon time to think. Layla had ordered the Brooklyn Bridge pizza from Pagliacci's, probably because she knew that was Brandon's favorite. He chewed slowly, turning the situation around in his brain, looking for a painless way out. The only positive he could find sat next to him, picking all the green peppers off his pizza.

Yeah, meeting Stef was definitely a good thing. He just wished it had come under different circumstances.

He'd finished three slices and snagged one of the "bones" off Layla's plate — she never ate the crust — before he came to a decision.

Stef elbowed him. "You're awfully quiet over there."

Brandon found a smile born of relief at having come to a conclusion. "I was impressed by how many people y'all have in common. Didn't want to interfere."

"Rival high schools," Stef said, like that explained everything.

Layla added, "And he went out with one of my brother's good friend's friend and also with the Knight's best pitcher."

Brandon nodded, like what she'd said made some kind of sense. "Seems like y'all were probably at the same parties, back in the day."

They both laughed. "Quite possibly," Layla said.

"It's really strange that we didn't meet before now." Stef narrowed his gaze. "But don't change the subject. You were about to tell us what you've been pondering."

Brandon nudged Stef's shoulder. "You win. I'll send Clancy a text."

He half expected Stef to jump up and cheer, but all he did was rest his hand on Brandon's thigh. "Good call."

Caught up in Stef's warm gaze, Brandon sat there with a stupid grin on his face until Layla cleared her throat. "Well, time sure flies, ya know. Gotta go get my beauty sleep. Keep the dead things out of my way, m'kay?"

She fluttered off, leaving Brandon to clean up the kitchen. He had Stef's help, of course. Stef cleared the table while Brandon rinsed the dishes. After handing him the last dish, Stef pressed himself against Brandon, rutting against his ass. He put his arms around Brandon, one hand tweaking a nipple, the other cupping his cock.

"Wait," Brandon gasped. "Let me send that text before you completely distract me."

Stef eased back half a step. "Sure. Do it now because Daddy doesn't have much patience."

Brandon twisted around so they were facing each other. "Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Daddy'?"

"Nah." Stef rubbed his own package. "This here's Daddy, and he doesn't like to wait."

"You call your dick Daddy." Brandon chuckled. Stef tried to give him a prissy look, but then he started laughing, too. He was still smiling when Brandon caught his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. Stef tasted of pizza and expensive red wine, and Brandon wanted as much of him as he could get.

"But first—" He broke away with a gasp. "The text."

This time Stef moved to the table, out of reach. Brandon fished the SPAM cell phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen. He found the contact list and tapped Clancy's name.

Spike gave me a SPAM phone so I could contact you. I'm Brandon Charles and I seem to have a talent for necromancy. Would you be willing to answer some questions? Thx

He showed the text to Stef before he hit send. "Give yourself a code name," Stef advised.

"Like what? Does it have to be official?"

"Just pick something. SPAM doesn't care, but if you ask them to do it, you'll end up with Daffy Duck or something."

"Hey, ducks are cool."

Stef rubbed a palm over his own cock. "Daddy's getting restless. Pick a name and let's get on to something more fun."

Snorting, Brandon typed something in and pocketed the phone.

"What'd you choose?"

Stalking in Stef's direction, he didn't answer at first.

"Come on. Tell me."

"No." Brandon silenced Stef's protest with a kiss, a raw and ragged clash of lips and tongues. He backed him up till Stef's thighs hit the table, and for a brief second he thought about turning Stef around and bending him over. Though the thought tempted him beyond belief, he held off. Instead, he broke the kiss, pulling his scrambled brain together to form a question. "How do you like it?"

Stef's pupils were blown, his lips soft and wet. "Just about any old way."

"Seriously." Brandon ran a thumb along Stef's cheekbone. The man was just so damned pretty, it killed him. "I could get down on my knees right here. Would that be okay?"

Stef groaned, long and loud. "As long as Layla won't stumble over us."

"Eh, she's probably locked and barred her door. I think we're okay."

Stef was already shoving Brandon's shoulders down. "Then get busy, Brandonakis."