Silver and Gold - 15. Chapter 15

Feldspar scrutinized the beaters from the electric hand mixer, checking to ensure they were completely clean after using them to whip egg whites for the morning’s waffles. To his satisfaction, the chrome shone flawlessly. Yago was perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, watching Feldspar cook while thumbing through a wine magazine and sipping his coffee.

Several weeks of organizing and clearing out Brody’s things had left Silver exhausted. Brody hadn’t owned much, but what he had had was steeped in nostalgia for Silver. The process had been agonizing at times, and Feldspar had convinced Silver to take frequent, sometimes days-long breaks. Between touring the sights and catching up with Silver’s friends, break days had turned out to be even more exhausting than work days. Now that the work was finished Feldspar had ordered Silver to sleep in.

In just a few days they’d be heading back to the Wood. It felt like they’d been gone years rather than a month. Part of him mourned leaving the human realm when he was just starting to appreciate all it had to offer. Silver had taken him to dozens of restaurants that had been a revelation. Yago had introduced him to true crime podcasts and noise cancelling headphones, which made cuddling up and watching Silver’s awful reality TV thoroughly enjoyable. Arnau had get-togethers at his tattoo shop every few days, and each time there was at least one or two fascinating fae who he wanted to get to know better. His world was expanding by the minute, as it had been since he’d met Silver.

Silver had already stocked up on junk food to bring back to the Wood. He’d also bought a slew of cookbooks and begged recipes off friends, so he could recreate Feldspar’s favorite meals from the past month, and had downloaded the back catalog of every true crime podcast he could find. Feldspar knew they could bring bits of the human realm back with them, but it wasn’t the same.

He found himself rubbing the ache in his chest. This wasn’t goodbye. Silver was already talking about their next trip, and no matter where he went Silver would be with him. There was a lot to look forward to, too. He wanted his own bed and the comforting sounds of Gneiss and Nephrite moving around their tree. He had missed the feeling of grass beneath his feet and hot days spent exploring the ever-changing enchanted woods. He much preferred the sound of aspen leaves rustling in the breeze to the sound of sirens and car horns, and the smell of the redwoods in the early morning mist to the ever-present stench of smog. Going home would be good.

Feldspar heard sounds from the bedroom and stuffed the electric beaters into the pocket of his apron. He darted a guilty look toward the bedroom, holding his breath. The shower turned on and he released a relieved breath.

“Are you trying to fool him? He’s going to know you didn’t beat those by hand,” Yago said, nodding toward the bowl of whipped egg whites.

“Maybe, but it’ll drive him batty if I don’t confess.” He took the beaters out of his pocket and examined them one last time, making sure he’d dried them completely. He handed the hand mixer to Yago, who coiled the cord up just as it had been, smiling the whole time. Feldspar put the mixer and the beaters back in the cabinet where he’d found them, spending a few extra seconds to ensure the contraption looked just as it had before he’d used it.

The front door opened and they both looked up to see Liam sauntering into the kitchen. “I have come to return a few things,” he said, holding up a cell phone and a well worn journal. The vampire placed the items on the counter and slid onto the stool next to Yago.

“Don’t you look well this morning,” Yago said, narrowing his eyes. The vampire’s youthful face was unusually rosy and his eyes bright under his signature pageboy cap. “Just the picture of health, aren’t you.”

Liam twirled his handlebar mustache and smiled, revealing his sharp fangs. A shiver ran down Feldspar’s spine. The sight of razor sharp teeth and cold eyes set in the face of a twenty-something hipster was unsettling in the extreme. Feldspar glanced uneasily back toward Silver’s room, where he could still hear the shower running. He knew intellectually that Liam didn’t consider him prey, but his instincts alternated between screaming at him to run and screaming at him to cut Liam’s throat before he could hurt Silver.

“Who was it?” Yago asked in a tone that made what he was imagining explicitly clear. Feldspar was surprised Yago was interested in hearing about Liam’s hunting habits. Yago was a gossip who liked to stir shit; casual murder of humans was darker than his usual fare.

“I am afraid it will not be the diverting tale you are accustomed to hearing from me.”

“Not one of your delicious paramours? But I love it when you kiss and tell,” Yago drawled. “Who did you eat then?”

“No one anyone would miss.”

“Just one?” Yago said. “You look quite well, for just having one.”

Liam examined his nails. “Several people who nobody — yourselves in particular — will miss.”

Yago stilled and his playful facade dropped away as he looked intently at Liam. He tilted his head in query, one hand rising to stroke a horn absently. Liam nodded, answering Yago’s silent question.

Feldspar was lost. “Why do you say that? What does your… diet have to do with us?” he asked. His mind raced ahead, trying to grasp what Liam had done. Yago clearly knew something he didn’t, based on the way he had gone completely still and his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“It is well known I do not have a great deal of regard for the majority of the human race,” Liam said. “Other than my bed and breakfast proclivities, naturally.”

“He takes them to bed and eats them for breakfast,” Yago supplied.

Feldspar gave him a dry look. “I’d gleaned that much, thank you.”

“There have been a few humans who I suppose I have affection for. Brody, though he may have had the dignity and intelligence of a golden retriever, was under my protection. His association with me was known. His death was a slight that I could not let go unanswered.”

Yago and Feldspar exchanged a look. There was a line here, one they could choose to cross or not. Liam had said enough that they could be fairly certain of what he’d done, but not so much that they couldn’t maintain some level of plausible deniability. Feldspar waited for Yago to decide how much he wanted to know.

Eventually Yago put his wine magazine down on the counter and asked, “What did you do?”

Liam paused for a moment, stroking his mustache. “Brody’s cell phone and journal were most illuminating. It was a small matter to identify the miserable sod who sold narcotics to Brody after he had quit. The man claimed ignorance of how the product he sold Brody was tainted. So, I claimed ignorance of how long I can drink before a 180 pound human male goes into fatal shock.” He held up one finger, then continued. “His supplier also claimed ignorance, though it was clear he’d profited handsomely from selling impure product.” He added a second finger to his count. “A few of my brethren joined me in finding others in supply and sales. Odd how none of them knew that their product was killing people.” He now held up eight fingers. “It has been a most busy and fortifying month.”

Yago let out a long whistle and met Feldspar’s over the kitchen counter. “Don’t fuck with a vampire, eh?”

Feldspar ignored Yago’s asinine comment and turned instead to Liam. “Good,” he said firmly, meeting his hard gaze. Most people would have been unsettled by Liam’s brutality. He couldn’t argue with the efficiency of Liam’s justice, nor did he want to. Silver’s grief demanded vengeance. He was glad he hadn’t been the one to dole it out, though he easily could have. Staring into Liam’s cold eyes, he couldn’t help but see himself reflected back. An earlier, different version of himself, but himself true enough.

Liam turned slowly Yago, apparently deigning to address his comment. “My kind does not have the luxury faeries have of being one of the more appealing fae creatures. Vampires have been hunted to extinction on every continent. Our only protection is brutal and swift retribution for slights against any of our number. Brody was one of mine. What I did, I did for Brody, and for myself and my kind, and yes, even for Brody’s other loved ones.” The shower shut off, prompting Feldspar and Yago to look down the hall like guilty teenagers. For his part, Liam was unruffled. “Not all would take comfort in what I have done, however.”

Feldspar's mind churned over whether Silver would want to know what Liam had done. There were things from his own past he never planned to share with Silver, admittedly. Silver wouldn’t judge him for the violence of his past, but there were some things in life that left a stain on your spirit no matter how briefly you touched them. Feldspar saw no reason to let those things anywhere near Silver.

“Agreed,” Feldspar said. He glanced over his shoulder again toward Silver’s room. “Are you asking me to keep this from him?”

“Silver isn’t stupid. He knows what Liam would be doing with Brody’s phone and journal. Anyone with half a brain cell knows a vampire would look into Brody’s death and he knows how Liam deals with… issues,” Yago said.

Feldspar considered. “Fine. I won’t bring it up with him. If he suspects something and wants to know, he can ask you, Liam. If he asks you, you will tell him the truth.”

Liam dipped his head in agreement just as Silver emerged from the bedroom. His grey eyes widened in surprise to see Liam and a breath later landed on the journal and cell phone sitting on the counter next to him. The room went still as Silver paused staring at Liam’s glowing complexion and the suggestive items he’d brought with him. Liam watched him with apparent disinterest. Silver looked to Yago, who couldn’t bring himself to hold eye contact. He lifted an eyebrow and looked to Feldspar.

“Do I want to know what this is all about?”

“Do you?”

Silver looked at Liam’s bored, stoic expression and Yago’s unsettled, shifty face. He considered for a few moments and shook his head. He blinked a few times as if to clear his head and said his good mornings as if he hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

Silver bypassed his friends and slid his arms around Feldspar in the kitchen. Feldspar held him tighter and longer than strictly necessary, waiting until he felt Silver’s shoulders loosen. He smiled into Silver’s shoulder and narrowly resisted the urge to ruffle Silver’s neatly combed hair when they parted.

Silver looked over Feldspar’s shoulder and spotted the small bowl of glossy, stiff-peaked egg whites waiting to be folded into the waffle batter. He narrowed his eyes at Feldspar who gave him an exaggerated, wide-eyed look.

“Babe? What’s this I see?” Silver scanned the counter suspiciously.

Feldspar smiled smugly. “Just breakfast.”

“Hmmm.” He opened a cabinet, finding the electric hand mixer where it was supposed to be, cord wound up neatly. He turned to the sink and pointed accusingly at the dirty whisk sitting in the bottom. “Don’t tell me you did that by hand.”

Feldspar grinned. “You know what they say.”

“What?”

“People who want waffles should believe their boyfriends about how the egg whites got beaten.”

“Who says that?”

“I do.”

“Hmm.” Silver cracked a smile. “You’re a cheater. I can see it all over your face”

“Maybe. Guess you’ll never know for sure.” Feldspar folded the egg whites into the batter, smiling cheekily.

Silver looked to the two witnesses who could corroborate Feldspar’s claim. Liam and Yago both shook their heads, prompting the faery to throw his hands up in the air.

“I want breakfast, I’m not about to get on his bad side,” Yago said.

“Oh, come on! Liam?”

The vampire gave him a withering look. “This is none of my affair.”

“You don’t even eat food! What do you get out of keeping his secrets?”

Liam lifted an eyebrow. “He will keep mine.”

There was a pregnant pause. Liam locked eyes with Silver, almost daring him to say something. Yago studiously avoided eye contact with anyone. Feldspar watched Silver closely. He saw Silver examine Liam’s obviously glowing complexion, saw him consider the cool, unrepentant expression on his face. He saw the moment Silver decided he didn’t care to know, one and for all.

“You’re all dicks,” Silver said without venom.

Feldspar smirked as he pulled the first waffle out and put it on a plate in front of Silver. He’d added a dash of nutmeg and used absurdly expensive vanilla bean paste to give them a little something special. Silver’s eyes fluttered as he inhaled the aroma wafting up from the steaming plate. He picked up his fork and was about to take a bite when Feldspar pulled the plate away, lifting his eyebrow in challenge.

Silver rolled his eyes and cracked a smile. “Fine… this looks very handmade. Can I eat it now?”

“Of course,” Feldspar said, his voice saccharine. “Shall we go to Arnau’s shop today?”

******

The journey between Silver’s flat and Tattooine had become familiar over the course of Feldspar’s month in Paris. Silver’s friends tended to congregate there, and it seemed that Arnau always had something he wanted to tweak on Silver’s elaborate full-sleeve tattoo. He’d added a few small elements to the beautiful tattoo covering his arm and had been deepening the colors on it bit by bit whenever Silver came by to hang out.

When they got out of the metro station near Arnau’s shop Feldspar yanked the hood of his jacket over his head. A substance somewhere between rain and snow was falling listlessly from the sky, and it was dreadfully cold. Silver leaned close to him as they walked. Snuggles were the only good thing about winter, he decided. As melancholy as he had been to be leaving Paris soon, he wished he was enjoying the perpetual spring of the Wood at the moment.

A clump of cold mush dripped off his hood into his eye and his grunted in distaste. Silver glanced at him and produced an umbrella that he gallantly held above Feldspar’s head. “It’s barely drizzling,” he said.

Feldspar pulled back his hood an inch so he could shoot him a properly disbelieving look. “Drizzling? It’s freezing! Do you think you can change our flights?”

Silver snorted. “Changing our flights wouldn’t get you out of the rain sooner.”

“It would if you changed them to leave immediately,” Feldspar muttered. The laugh he earned from Silver sustained him for the rest of the short, wet walk to Arnau’s shop.

The shop was almost painfully warm after the bitter cold walk. The two faeries shucked their jackets off and practically threw them onto the waiting coat rack.

“Hey Brody,” Silver said, nodding to the whisk he’d put a place of honor in memory of his friend. Feldspar smiled at the little ritual that had become habit over the last several weeks. Silver was still hurting but these moments of acceptance were slowly becoming more commonplace.

Arnau was giving a client care instructions after finishing up a tattoo. When he caught sight of the two faeries he waved them back. Silver and Feldspar made themselves tea in the break room of the shop and by the time they came back out the customer was gone and Arnau was resetting his space.

“So what are we adding?” Arnau said, reverently taking Silver’s arm and turning it so he could look for blank spaces as he’d done so many times before.

“I think that arm’s done.”

“There is some space here,” Arnau said, tracing a narrow thread of space along Silver’s inner arm.

“Nah, it feels done. I think I’m ready to start something new.” Silver held out his other arm. Arnau’s eyes lit up as he took in the blank canvas at his disposal. “But we’re not really here for me today, we’re here for him.”

A huge grin split Arnau’s face. “You are ready then? His challenge is done?”

“Apparently,” Silver drawled. Feldspar cackled at the long-suffering expression on Silver’s face.

Arnau beckoned Feldspar to sit in the tattoo chair, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Where will you have it?”

Feldspar held out his arm to Arnau, who took it gently, as if he was handling a precious jewel. The warmth and reverence of his touch unbalanced Feldspar. Other than Silver, he couldn’t recall the last person to have touched him with such care. Even fully clothed Arnau’s intent focus on him was more intimate than the majority of his past trysts.

“A whisk like Silver, yes?” Arnau murmured. Silver pulled a stool up next to the chair and laid his tattooed arm on the armrest next to Feldspar’s so Arnau would have a reference.

“No.”

“No?” Arnau and Silver said at the same time.

Feldspar blushed and met Silver’s questioning gaze. “The whisk is yours and Brody’s. If Liam has a bone and Yago has a grapevine, I have something else in mind, if you don’t think it’s stupid.”

“Cannot be stupid,” Arnau said sharply. “I do it, it is masterpiece.”

“Well, I guess I don’t really know what I want but I know what I want it to mean. Or, that’s not quite right. I want something simple like his, but I want it to come from my own story.”

“Good. You tell me the story, I draw.”

Feldspar settled more deeply into the chair and Arnau placed his arm palm up on the armrest. Feldspar wasn’t sure where to start. He had a vague idea that what he wanted could only be developed from a collection of memories that had been on his heart. Arnau listened as he sketched ideas in a leather-bound book. He accepted the brutality of Feldspar’s early years without comment. He tutted when Feldspar described how he’d buried his feelings of pain and betrayal when Mal had chosen Daniella over him, laughed when Feldspar described his first attempt at beating egg whites, and smiled knowingly as Feldspar told how he’d spent months learning to cook from Silver.

When his story was finished, Arnau methodically retrieved his tattoo gun and got to work. Silver popped out to grab lunch and by the time he’d come back Arnau was putting the tattoo needle down. Arnau stretched and sat back, giving Silver room as Feldspar proudly held up his newly inked arm for him to see. Running down the length of his inner forearm there were three blades drawn in spare black lines. On one side stood his most trusted sword, the sword that had saved his life countless times. It was the sword he’d learned to fight with, the sword Mal had made him to wield.

On the other side there was one of Gneiss’ throwing knives, sharp and ruthless as she was. It was Gneiss’ throwing knives that had taught him to be a strategic fighter, to move fast and faster, to be flexible, to always be ready for surprises.

In the center between the two was a chef’s knife and a honing steel. Feldspar’s eyes settled on the pair: a weapon and a tool. As he pondered the tattoo he felt a smile tugging at his lips. Knives were dangerous, true, but they could be used in service of making something wonderful in the kitchen. The honing steel was a tool, nothing to take pride in in and of itself, but without it the blade grew dull. He glanced at Silver, whose grey eyes were shining as he took in the lines of the tattoo. Before Silver Feldspar had thought of himself as the sword and the throwing knife, ready to protect or destroy as the situation demanded and purposeless in times of peace. Now he saw a third way, a way to harness his strength in service of creation rather than destruction.

As he admired Arnau’s work he was reminded of how Silver always claimed he had a special talent for making those around him more than they were naturally. The honing steel was that, too. On the other hand, it also occurred to him that he had once grown dull, and Silver had sharpened him.

He marveled at the complexity Arnau had imparted with just a few spare lines. The tattoo was a portrait of his different selves as much as it was a reminder of the people he loved most in the world.

Silver laid his arm softly next to Feldspar’s, his pale silver-undertoned skin contrasting with Feldspar’s warm golden tan. The composition, style and color of the simple line-drawn whisk was an exact match with Feldspar’s tattoo.

“It’s perfect,” Feldspar said.

“Totally perfect.”

Arnau accepted their praise with a smug smile, stretched, and then shooed Feldspar out of the chair and ushered Silver into his place. “Move you lazy faery. This inspiration, it comes one time in life.” As soon as he’d gotten a new set of sterilized tools he set to work on the blank slate of Silver’s other arm.

Hours passed and conversation ebbed and flowed in the shop. Arnau worked continuously, as if in a trance as friends and clients came and went. Yago and Liam dropped by in the early evening before heading out to the soft opening of a restaurant Yago had advised on its wine list. Liam hinted obliquely that he had some type of relationship with the owner. Whether they were friends, enemies or acquaintances Feldspar was hard pressed to guess.

When Arnau finally put down the tattoo machine deep in the night, Silver’s entire forearm was covered in a line drawing of a redwood grove. A band of black around his wrist marked the ground, which was covered in minuscule, curling fronds of bracken. Here and there tiny figures could be picked out, including one that appeared to be holding a sword casually on one shoulder. A slightly shimmery figure holding a chef’s knife stood next to him, and Feldspar could have sworn they were gazing at each other. The figures were much too small to have distinguishable expressions, yet something about the body language made it clear they were in love.

Stretching up behind the figures stood enormous redwood trees, dotted with rope bridges and ladders almost too small to be noticed against the enormous trees. Up by Silver’s elbows birds flew across the sky of his inner elbow. Even higher the sky faded into inky blackness dotted by the moon and stars aligned in the constellations they could see from the beach of the Wood’s tropical island.

Feldspar’s mouth hung open in wonder as he examined the tattoo. The details of the Wood were so real it beggared belief. Arnau was human and had never visited the Wood, yet somehow had replicated it in perfect detail.“This isn’t real. You cannot be human.”

Arnau’s eyes were unfocused and his jaw hung open slightly as if he’d just awoken. “This it is my best work,” he said, mystified. “Now you see why I say ‘inspiration’ and make you move.”

Feldspar shook his head. “How did you do this?”

“This is faery magic, yes?” he said as he went to the backroom and emerged with a tall glass of water, the first sustenance he’d had in the better part of ten hours.

Feldspar snorted at the mention of magic. “Strictly speaking we are faeries, but not the kind who could do that. Silver and I do small magic. Keeping food from spoiling, prolonged strength and stamina, that sort of thing. This was your doing.”

Arnau shrugged carelessly, his eyes glued to the tattoo. He was staring at it as if he also couldn’t quite believe the perfection of all its intricacies.

“I don’t know, babe,” Silver said slowly. “Tattoos aren’t just the artist. They’re…” he struggled to find his words. “They’re like meditation. Like a ritual. I provide the canvas and the raw ideas. Arnau interprets them and provides the talent. This time though, you were here, too.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Silver said, tearing his eyes away from his arm at last so he could look at Feldspar. “I think it was you.”

“I have no idea what you mean. I don’t do magic.”

Silver shook his head vehemently. “No, I’ve watched you pretty closely for a long time.” Feldspar’s confused expression lifted long enough for him to smirk. Silver rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we all know I had a crush of colossal proportions. Back to the point. When you’re at a party I can literally tell where you’ve been because people you’ve bumped into are having the most fun. It’s like a contrail of Feldspar vibes. That’s not all. Mal and Gneiss always wanted you with them not just because you’re strong, but because you made them stronger, better. Even when you guys were all sleeping together you were the one they wanted, not each other. Maybe you don’t do it consciously, but you’re definitely doing something magical. You’re probably doing it all the time. Because this work? This isn’t the best tattoo Arnau has ever done. It’s the best tattoo that’s ever been inked. You were the difference.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Okay then,” Feldspar said, mock snappishly.

“Okay!”

They stared at each other, trying to keep their faces straight. Silver cracked first and started laughing, followed almost immediately by Feldspar. After their chuckles subsided Feldspar shook his head, bemused. Silver could think whatever he wanted about his magic. It made no difference to him. What did matter — what had him smiling for the rest of their time in Paris — was that right there, in the most perfect tattoo he’d ever seen, there was a little figure of himself and a little figure of Silver, in ink. Permanent ink. He liked the sound of that.

******

“You ready for eleven hours of sitting?” Silver said after they’d cleared security at the airport. The final few days of their trip had been filled with frantic last-minute stocking up on human goodies, friends dropping by for one last hang with Silver, and trips to the city’s trendiest fae-owned restaurants, galleries and music venues. They were practically asleep on their feet by the time they made it to the airport. Feldspar had taken the lead this time on getting their boarding passes and navigating the chaotic hub. Dealing with the hassles of human bureaucracy and air travel was the perfect way to get him excited for his own people and the idyll of the Wood.

Feldspar grimaced. “Ugh. Just promise me the plane isn’t going to crash.”

“Aww, nervous babe? I’ll hold your hand you poor, wittle guy.”

“Last time the plane dropped twenty feet! You were asleep!”

Silver laughed. “I promise it won’t crash, and if we have turbulence again I really will hold your hand. And you can sleep on my shoulder this time.”

Feldspar huffed. He had to admit having nowhere to be, snuggling up with Silver watching TV and eating junk food was enticing. At the basic level that was all air travel was, just in uncomfortable seats jammed in a deafeningly loud metal death trap that smelled of grease and chemical-coated fabrics with two hundred humans for company. He made a face at Silver.

“Tell you what. You can wear this.” Silver pulled his Pizza My Heart sweatshirt out of his carry-on backpack. “It’s super lucky and nothing bad can happen to you when you’re wearing it.”

Feldspar’s heart constricted as Silver pulled the ratty sweatshirt over his head. It fit perfectly. Silver had made good on his promise of feeding Feldspar up to a healthier weight, and now they were exactly the same size. Feldspar inhaled deeply as Silver’s rosemary spice scent enveloped him.

“Or,” Silver said, drawing the syllable out as he gave Feldspar a mischievous look. “If you’re still nervous on the plane we could check out the mile high club.”

Feldspar was about to ask what that was when the sound of someone screaming his name from back near security yanked them both out of their conversation.

“FELDSPAR! Feldspar, wait!”

Feldspar whipped around with a jerk, shock written across his features. He would know that voice anywhere. There, just on the other side of the security area, wild-eyed and radiating magic, was Mal.