Chapter 11

Sebastian lay back in the tub, his long legs stretched out in the confined space. "I'm feeling a bit better now."

"That's good." James shut off the water. "What happened?"

Sebastian didn't say anything. James couldn't tell if he was too exhausted or avoiding the question. It didn't necessarily matter which was the case right now. They could discuss it later. James let Sebastian rest, busying himself by lighting a candle and searching the cabinets for antiseptic ointment for Sebastian's cuts. Once he found some, he put it in his pocket for later and spent some time wiping his jacket and jeans clean.

"You should eat something," James said after a while.

Sebastian opened his eyes. "The food is too far away."

"I'll get it for you, but I'm not leaving you in the water." James had been keeping an eye on Sebastian, not wanting him to doze off and slip under.

"I'm not going to drown." Sebastian attempted to scowl, but it seemed halfhearted. "I should get out anyway. I'm wrinkling." He inspected his fingers before grabbing the sides of the tub and trying to stand. He didn't seem to have the strength.

James stepped forward. "Need a hand?"

"Please." Sebastian reached out.

James helped him stand, taking most of Sebastian's weight as he got him out of the bath. Sebastian grabbed a towel from the rack and dried himself as James held him steady, then they headed back into the bedroom.

James laid a towel down on the bed and Sebastian sat, still in his wet boxer briefs. "You should put this on the scratches." He held out the tube of ointment.

"Sure." Sebastian took it with an odd expression.

James figured he was being overly cautious, but they were shade scratches, and he didn't like to think where their hands had been. "There's some on your back I can help with. If you want."

Sebastian began putting the ointment on his arms and hands. "That'd be good. If you don't mind?" He handed the tube back to James.

James didn't mind. He sat next to Sebastian, who turned enough so James could reach his back. James attended to each scratch carefully. "If I grab you some clothes, will you be able to get them on?"

"Hm?" Sebastian seemed to startle out of a daze. "Yeah, I'm good."

James crossed the room to the dresser next to the door and took a moment to light some candles. Sebastian directed him to the correct drawers, and he gathered the clothes.

The furniture in here was nice and far more modern than the rest of the house. The walls were a familiar shade of light pink and the old green carpet was covered in fluffy yellow rugs.

It was a lovely room. You could almost forget you were in a creepy old house. There were white-trimmed French doors leading to a balcony and enough windows that the room would get a lot of sunlight.

James handed Sebastian a pair of sweats, a shirt, underwear, and socks, then left the room in search of food. He took a candle with him for light, but it was a good thing his eyes were well-adjusted to the dark. In the kitchen, he grabbed the cookie tin and jar of nuts from the counter, then, on second thought, put an apple in his pocket.

Back upstairs, James hovered in the hall. "Can I come in?"

"Yes," Sebastian called, sounding faintly exasperated.

James found him dressed and under the covers. He set the cookies and nuts down on the bedside table, glad to see a water bottle there already, and handed Sebastian the apple. "Need me to refill that?" He pointed to the bottle.

"Nah, it's good." Sebastian took a bite of his apple.

James was relieved to see Sebastian had recovered from his delirious state but didn't want to leave him by himself. He was still worried and knew that if he went to his room, the fear that something might happen to Sebastian would keep him up, whether or not it was rational.

Instead, he went to the free-standing fireplace and added another log to the fire. James was glad Sebastian had heating in his room. There were a couple of inbuilt fireplaces around—in the sitting room, the billiards room, and the receiving room—but none had looked recently used. There was also one in the spare room James had been given, but there hadn't been wood.

The fire gave off a soft glow, bringing out the warmth in all the pinks and yellows. Sebastian had a small sitting area with a couch and armchair opposite his large bed. James wondered if he should just set up there for the remainder of the night.

"Why did you go outside?" James asked after Sebastian seemed to have had his fill of snacks.

Sebastian pulled the covers more tightly around himself. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" James perched, leaning against the arm of the couch, and tried to read Sebastian's expression. "Did something compel you to go out?" He assumed Sebastian had gone out for some reason, but if Sebastian didn't know what was going on any more than James did, that would explain why he hadn't put clothes on first.

Sebastian seemed to think about the possibility he'd been lured outside as if it hadn't occurred to him before now, his eyes crinkling with worry. "I don't— How could I have been compelled?"

"I have no idea. Magic of some kind. Unless you sleepwalk?" Sebastian shook his head at that. James believed he was being genuine but couldn't help pressing. "You really have no idea why you were outside in the middle of the night?"

Sebastian gave him a helpless look.

This wasn't good. They had to figure out what happened tonight so it didn't happen again. "What do you remember?"

Sebastian clutched his blankets. "Digging? Don't ask me why."

James scratched the back of his neck. That explained the mud. "You haven't ever found yourself randomly outside before?"

"No." Sebastian rolled his eyes. He must be feeling better and certainly looked much safer tucked into bed than sprawled on the ground.

"I shouldn't keep you up," James said as a reminder to himself. They could talk more in the morning. "But I'm staying on your couch."

Sebastian let out a ghost of a laugh. "You're such a mother hen."

James wasn't going to deny it. He wasn't ashamed of his nurturing, worrywart ways. "I haven't heard you complaining about being fussed over."

"Touché," Sebastian mumbled as he nestled farther into his pillows.

That warm feeling swelled within James's chest again. Seeing Sebastian safe and well made him happy. He liked taking care of people, not only because it helped push away his anxieties about losing them.

Sebastian had wormed his way into James's life without James deciding to let him in. He hadn't given his permission for things to progress as they had, not consciously. James should be annoyed by this but couldn't muster enough negative emotion. Even if nothing happened romantically between them, James suspected he'd never stop caring about Sebastian now he'd stared.

James woke to sunlight spilling through the French doors into Sebastian's bedroom. He shifted, sitting up on the couch. A glance told him Sebastian was still sleeping.

Last night seemed even stranger now he reconsidered it. What were the odds of something like that happening when James was stuck here over night if Sebastian had never found himself unknowingly wandering the property before? It was almost too perfect of a coincidence.

Unless it wasn't a coincidence and Sebastian wasn't telling James the whole truth.

Last night, James had been too concerned to be suspicious, but if Sebastian had been compelled outside, someone would have had to do the compelling. Who would have cast the spell? James might have wondered if it had to do with the magic of the haunting, but Sebastian had said he wasn't affected by the strange energy here. Not to mention the wards drew a firm line between outside and in. How could a spell have plucked Sebastian from his bedroom?

None of it made any sense.

James got up and left the room. He didn't want to wake Sebastian. Regardless of how little James could make of the night before, there was no question that Sebastian had severely drained himself. He needed sleep.

James went to the kitchen to make breakfast. He'd seen where enough things were kept to not need to bother Sebastian. He'd even take Sebastian something to eat if he didn't come down before James was done.

He entered the kitchen and stopped short. There, sitting on the table, were the damn books. The same ones that had been on the piano and the stairs.

James couldn't pretend that wasn't suspicious. He almost wondered if they moved around on their own, but that kind of powerful enchantment seemed wasted on books that did nothing more than appear randomly to annoy him.

Had Sebastian moved them here? He must have, but when? James couldn't remember if they'd been there in the middle of the night. It had been dark—obviously—and he hadn't exactly been looking around, just beelining for the snacks, too worried about Sebastian.

He went to the table and opened the first volume, flipping through the pages. There was nothing tucked inside, nothing odd about the book itself. He checked all six, as well as the bookends. It didn't feel like any magical energy had been stored in them, and if the books moved on their own, James thought he'd be able to detect that level of power but wasn't one hundred percent sure. He wasn't the most well-rounded magical practitioner. The basics were all he bothered with, other than the specialized refueling spell he used at work.

James abandoned the books for the stove. He found a pan, the butter dish, and some eggs sitting in a basket on the counter. He scrambled them, then fried a slice of Sebastian's bread in the buttery pan in lieu of toasting it.

The food made him less grumpy, but only marginally. If Sebastian had moved the books, he would have done it after he'd sent James to the guest room, which made it feel like Sebastian was toying with him. Was anything here what it seemed? Was anything about last night as simple as James had thought, or had his head been clouded by worry? Had Sebastian set the whole thing up on purpose?

James couldn't see why Sebastian would do that and felt guilty for even thinking it. He was being unfair to Sebastian. Fucking around with the books, playing flirty games, and teasing didn't necessarily have anything to do with Sebastian draining all his energy and getting swarmed by shades. Taking things to a more dangerous level didn't make sense, but James wished he was more confident in dismissing the idea. He couldn't ignore the fact that his trust in Sebastian seemed to be diminishing rather than growing.

After washing his plate, James set a kettle to boil on the stove top and cooked another serving of eggs and pan-fried bread. He brewed coffee in the French press, grabbed two mugs—hanging them off his fingers by the handles—and carried everything upstairs.

He might not trust Sebastian, but not offering him breakfast wouldn't get James anywhere.

Sebastian grinned, dimples on full display, as James entered the room. "Careful, you're spoiling me."

All of James's suspicions fled his mind and were replaced by pleasurable embarrassment. He thought he might be getting addicted to the sight of Sebastian smiling, though he tried to act unaffected. "It's only breakfast."

Sebastian reached eagerly for the plate. "In bed."

James set the mugs on the bedside table and poured them both coffee from the press. "You always make a big deal out of things."

Sebastian accepted his coffee. "You always have to go and be thoughtful. I can't act like it's nothing."

There was an awkward pause. James's head filled with images of them sharing toast and coffee in bed on Sunday mornings. He liked the picture a whole damn lot, but he couldn't afford to forget everything else going on and get lost in dreamland. "Why were those books in the kitchen?"

Sebastian gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. It was too overdone to be convincing. "What books?"

And just like that, it was easier for James to ignore the mushy things Sebastian made him feel. How could someone so infuriating also make James's heart pound with longing? "You know what books. The Magical Tales. Why are you moving them around the house?"

Sebastian gave a lazy one-armed shrug. He grabbed the bread off his plate. "I don't know. Seems like a weird thing for me to do."

James frowned. "So why do it? Is it so I'd notice?"

Sebastian laughed.

"What? Stop messing around."

"I'm not." Sebastian scooped a large forkful of eggs into his mouth and took a bite of his bread.

"Really? You're not trying to drive me mad? This isn't you playing games?" James was frustrated now. Maybe he could goad Sebastian into explaining himself. "Then what is it, some sort of—I don't know—secret book code?" James sneered.

Sebastian put his bread down and stared at James with the same unnerving intensity from the day before. Did that mean James was right? The books were some sort of message, seriously? Why not just admit it now that James had guessed? Or was it all meant to drive him up the wall, the message being: I'm fucking with you.

"Sebastian." James gripped his coffee tight, resisting the urge to grab Sebastian and shake the answers out of him or maybe kiss him until his frustration abated. "Are the books a code? What are you trying to tell me?"

Sebastian blinked, the intensity leaving his stare. He turned back to his food. James wondered if it was all nonsense. He let out an unmistakable sigh of annoyance so Sebastian knew exactly how he felt and went to stand by the French doors, staring out into the yard.

As he sipped his coffee, a familiar van pulled up to the Storm House gate. James was relieved to see Hazel and Eli jump out. "Looks like my rescue has arrived."

"Wonderful." Sebastian's tone dripped with sarcasm. "So happy for you."

Was it just James, or did he sound bitter? It was like Sebastian didn't want James to go. That shouldn't give James a small thrill. Not after Sebastian had tricked him into getting stuck here and refused to tell him anything. James shouldn't want to be around a man who liked toying with him.

James was so screwed. This whole situation was a mess.

Outside, Eli was pointing through the gate at James's truck.

James turned back to Sebastian. "I'm going to go let them in. Can I get the key?"

Sebastian shook his head. "I'm coming with you." He set his plate and coffee aside, the eggs already gone. "Let me get dressed."

By "get dressed," he only meant pulling his purple robe over his sweats and T-shirt. Once he was ready, Sebastian grabbed his bread and coffee and led the way out of the room. James followed, full of mixed feelings, none of which he was happy about.

The two of them made their way down the driveway to find Eli on top of the wall.

"You Gray boys really can't keep away from me, can you?" Sebastian teased.

"James!" Eli shouted from his perch on the wall. "We couldn't get a hold of you! What's wrong with your phone? Did you not go home last night?"

"I've been calling all morning," Hazel added from the other side of the gate.

"James spent the night." Sebastian's tone heavily implied that something intimate had happened between them.

"Because my truck died," James corrected.

"Right." Hazel narrowed her eyes at him, like she believed Sebastian's implication was more likely.

Eli looked put out. "I've been worried all morning. You could have been off dying somewhere while I was over at Parker's and had no idea."

Sebastian munched his bread, looking between them all like this was great entertainment.

"Sorry, Eli." James felt terrible for causing his brother stress. "My phone died too." He turned to Sebastian. "Can you let them in?"

"Oh, right." Sebastian put the last bit of bread into his mouth, holding it between his teeth as he delved a hand into his robe pocket.

"Can you call a tow for me?" James asked Hazel as his brother hopped off the wall onto the Storm House lawn.

She shook her head. "We don't have time for that now. We have to get back to town."

"Why?" James asked.

"Shades smashed all the lights in the center of town. We've got a lot of work to do."