The Year of the Salamander - 17. Chapter 17

The next couple of weeks were frantic and uneventful at the same time. Gabriel never brought up the subject of what was bothering Desmond that one night, as if figuring that if Desmond wanted to talk about it, he would do it without any questions asked. Desmond raided the library several more times, getting more and more frustrated every time, since he couldn’t find anything even remotely helpful. To his even greater frustration, Tess had no idea what ‘being prepared’ meant, and she knew next to nothing about any of the rituals that had to be performed in order to bring back one of the old gods. Sam wouldn’t come back home at least until midnight every night, and he would seem somewhat guilty every single time, even though he tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

Then the school semester started, and Desmond had a lot less time to spend on his research. According to Rayhe’s very careful inspections, Sam was spell-free, but as Gabriel said to Desmond more than several times, it didn’t mean that it was, in fact, the case.

“Des,” he would say. “I am not brilliant at magic. Just because I don’t notice anything, doesn’t mean that everything is fine. I mean, I think it’s fine, but...” Here he would usually shrug without finishing the phrase, and Desmond would inevitably say something in his usual obscenity-hissing manner.

On the first Sunday of September, Sam didn’t show up at home until almost two in the morning, and Desmond was about to unleash some serious fury on kid’s ass when he finally walked through the front door of the house, but instead, he just frowned. Sam looked downright miserable. Desmond’s first thought was, “Oh, hell, she dumped him...”

“Kid,” he said while Sam was absent-mindedly petting the dog who, by the way, managed to double its size in the last couple of weeks; now the damn dog was the size of a mature Labrador. “You do know how to interpret digits into the meaning of time, don’t you? I mean, I understand that time is something rather abstract but...”

“Sorry, Desmond,” Sam muttered without looking away from the dog who kept licking his face. Desmond winced when he saw that shovel-looking tongue brush over kid’s teeth while Sam was speaking. “I know it’s late, but I had to say good...” Here he started coughing rather loudly. “Good night,” he finished finally.

“Good night my ass,” Desmond thought without saying anything. He was positive that the kid was about to say, ‘I had to say good-bye.’ “Son of a bitch,” he thought gloomily. “She dumped him!”

Rayhe didn’t say a single word, but Desmond noticed that he wasn’t watching TV anymore; he was studying Sam’s face without looking up. Desmond could tell from his facial expression that Rayhe was thinking the same thing as he did.

“Sorry,” the kid said again and kicked off his sneakers. “Umm... I am tired, I’m gonna go to bed... Is that okay?” he shot a quick glance at Desmond.

“Night,” Desmond said with a small nod.

“Night, Sam,” Gabriel said and turned off the TV.

Desmond waited for the kid and the dog to disappear in Sam’s bedroom, and then he looked at Rayhe, and said in a low voice:

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“She dumped him?” Gabriel raised one eyebrow.

“Yup,” Desmond nodded melancholically, and Rayhe just sighed. “Well, it’s after two in the morning,” Desmond yawned. “I need to get up at seven, since I want to stop and get some coffee on the way to work... That leaves me with less than five hours of sleep. You see where I am going, right?” He looked at Gabriel steadily. “Try doing anything when you get to bed, and I will hospitalize you,” he nodded firmly. “I am serious,” he added without a smile when Rayhe’s eyes twinkled with something dark. “Good night, Rayhe.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” Gabriel sighed in defeat. “Go to sleep, you are a pain in the ass already...”

Desmond nodded firmly once again and marched into the bedroom. Rayhe came in when Desmond was in bed, his face buried in the pillow.

“Rayhe...” he said in a low, dangerous voice when he felt Gabriel press against his back.

“Just go to sleep,” Gabriel sighed. “I can hold you, can’t I? Unless that turns you on... In that case...”

“Shut up, Rayhe,” Desmond grumbled, entwined his fingers with Gabriel’s, and closed his eyes. In less than five minutes, he was asleep.

...He was very tempted to throw the alarm clock into the wall when it went off at seven sharp. Instead, he just mumbled an unintelligible profanity, got out of bed without silencing the alarm, and shuffled into the bathroom. He stepped into the shower, thinking that now it would be a brilliant opportunity for Sam to play the same cold-water trick on him, but nothing happened. Probably because the kid was snoozing peacefully (he wouldn't be out of bed until at least ten in the morning), or because he was too upset to even think about pulling any sorts of tricks right now. Desmond lifted his face, enjoying cool water, and thought that it was probably both things combined.

The cool shower woke him up somewhat, so by the time he emerged from the bathroom, he wasn’t in the same murderous mood as he was ten minutes ago. Rayhe sat on the bed, one of his eyes still closed.

“Why didn’t you turn off the alarm?” he grumbled. “Goddammit, I don’t have to be at work until ten today! I could’ve slept for the next couple of hours!”

“Go back to sleep,” Desmond shrugged, perfectly aware of the fact that once Gabriel was awake, he would stay that way. At least on a weekday, that is. Weekends were different matter.

“Goddammit,” Rayhe muttered bitterly, watching Desmond pull his jeans on. “Hey, start the coffeemaker, will you?” he yawned and got up, heading towards the bathroom.

“Nope,” Desmond said immediately. “I gotta go. I am going to get some serious espresso and grab a muffin on my way to work.”

“So?” Rayhe frowned. “Start the coffeemaker before you leave... It’ll take you a couple of minutes!”

“Do it yourself, I am not your slave,” Desmond said firmly and grabbed his jacket. “Later, Rayhe!”

“Asshole,” Gabriel muttered and went to the bathroom.

Desmond grinned and left the bedroom. He got into the kitchen and swiftly replaced the filter in the coffeemaker, threw some coffee in there, and poured some water under the lid of the opening in the back. He pushed the ‘start’ button, grinned again, grabbed his car keys, and left the house.

...When he got into the coffee shop, his mood improved even more. There was only one person by the register, so Desmond figured that he’d get his espresso rather sooner than later. He looked at the muffins in the glass display, thinking which one he felt more like right now, and settled on blueberry. He waited patiently for the person in front of him to make up his mind, but it seemed that for some reason, this guy was having an enormous difficulty deciding what the hell it was that he wanted. Finally, Desmond rolled his eyes, and he noticed that the barista was trying her hardest not to do the same. He lightly tapped the guy on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Do you mind if I get my stuff, since you seem uncertain of what you want?”

The guy turned around and blinked several times. Desmond expected something like ‘Sure, go ahead,’ and just stared at the guy when he said shortly:

“Yes, I do mind.” With that, he turned away again and stared at the menu.

Desmond’s eyelid twitched ever so slightly.

“Look,” he said patiently. “I just want a cup of coffee with a couple of extra shots, and a blueberry muffin, that’s all. I have to be at work soon...”

“Then go to a different coffee shop,” the guy said without turning.

Desmond’s eyelid twitched more violently.

“Look...” he said a lot less patiently. “Just...”

The guy turned around and stared at him, his light-hazel eyes narrowing with something very dark.

“Back off, buddy,” he hissed. “I’ve had a very shitty morning, so just back off, okay?”

“I am not your buddy,” Desmond said in a low, dangerous voice. “And I don’t give a flying shit about your morning! I want my goddamn coffee and my bloody muffin and I am getting it!”

“Then you will have to wait, won’t you?” the guy stretched his mouth in a nasty smile.

He was the same height as Desmond, but he wasn’t as skinny. His light-brown hair fell over his eyes, and he impatiently blew one of the strands off his forehead.

“If you are not buying anything,” Desmond said in the same low voice. “Then step the hell away from the register...”

“Or what?” The guy’s voice could compete with Desmond’s right now – it was very low and dangerous. “You gonna make me?”

“You don’t want that,” Desmond gave him a small smile, which the guy immediately returned.

“I’d like to see you try...” he said and his eyes became lighter.

“Here...” the barista handed Desmond a muffin and a cup of coffee. “I put four extra shots in there... It’s on the house... Sorry for the delay...!”

Both men blinked and looked at her; the pain-in-the-ass guy’s eyes returning to their normal color, Desmond’s posture relaxing somewhat. He put several bills on the counter, ignoring that guy, and grabbed his coffee cup and a muffin. The guy turned his head, and Desmond met his stare without blinking. When it came to staring contests, Desmond was one of the best. To his amusement, this guy didn’t seem like the type who’d back down either. They stared at each other for almost two minutes, and then the barista let out a desperate cough. It was unexpected, and the guy blinked. Desmond smiled at that, took a sip out of his cup, and bit into his muffin.

“Have a good day,” he said to the girl behind the counter who looked scared right now.

“Uhh...” was the reply he got. He left the shop without throwing another glance at that guy, his mood better by now.

By the time he got to school, coffee and muffin did their job, and Desmond felt almost good.

****

It was almost six in the evening, and Desmond stopped by Tess’ office on his way out.

“Hey,” he said when he walked in without even bothering to knock.

She looked up, her eyes tired.

“Hey,” she sighed and pushed away a thick book she was studying a minute ago.

“Any luck?” Desmond leaned on the wall with one shoulder.

“Nothing,” she said with frustration. “Desmond, tell me again what you found.”

“It has to be done at 14:17 sharp,” he said. “And it has to be done with some special dagger. It didn’t say what kind of a dagger,” he raised his hand slightly, preventing her from asking the question. “Didn’t even list a name. Then it said that the sacrifice had to be ‘prepared’ in advance. The next several pages were ripped out,” he finished darkly.

“Dammit,” she muttered. “This is frustrating!”

“Tess,” he frowned. “You are ridiculously good at magic... How come you know nothing about it?”

“Because it’s a separate branch of arts,” she said tiredly. “They don’t teach that in universities, you know... Think about it, do you really want everyone to know something like this?”

“No, not really,” he muttered, and she nodded.

“I was surprised that you were even able to find those books,” she said thoughtfully. “I would think that everything on the subject was hidden very carefully... Anyway,” she sighed and looked at him. “Bring him here one of those days. I want to make sure that he doesn’t have any marks or anything like that... Have you told him yet?”

“No,” Desmond shook his head. “First of all, it might not be him; second of all, even if it is him, I don’t want to freak him out, it’s only September after all... And third of all...” He sighed. “Now is not a good time to drag him here anyway. I think that the girl he fell for dumped him last night.”

“Oh,” Tess said, her expression all but screaming, ‘This is irrelevant!’

“It’s relevant when it comes to him,” Desmond nodded, and Tess just blinked at that. “Just believe me when I say it, okay, Tess? I will get him here one of those days, just not right now, okay?”

“Fine,” she sighed in defeat.

“Well,” he peeled himself off the wall. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“Yeah,” she muttered and pulled that book towards her once again. “Bye, Desmond...”

“Bye, Tess...” he almost walked out, but then he stopped and looked at her. “Tess, you didn’t tell anyone about Sam, did you?” he asked quietly, and she looked up again. “I don’t want either side to know about him,” he continued in the same quiet voice. “Not Reagan, because that bitch will waste him the second she finds out; but not Claudia either... Good or not, I don’t think she’ll hesitate much... Not when it comes to saving the entire world...”

“No, Desmond,” she said tiredly. “I did not tell anyone about Sam... And I am not going to,” she answered his unasked question. “Not yet,” she added in a softer voice.

“Tess...”

“Desmond,” she interrupted him. “I will do everything I can to try and figure this out, okay? You are right, it might not even be him. But Desmond, if it is him, and if we are too close to that date without any solutions...” She shrugged. “I am afraid, I won’t have a choice.”

“There will be a solution,” Desmond said through his clenched teeth. “I will tie him down if I have to; I will make sure that he doesn’t leave my sight until February fifteenth! I will do anything I have to, but I swear to God and to whoever else, the minute anyone or anything will try to as much as get too close to him, I will kill them. I don’t even care who it will be – I will kill them. Are we clear?”

“We are clear,” she nodded slowly without looking away.

“I am not threatening, Tess,” Desmond said in a softer voice. “I am stating the fact.”

“I know,” she gave him a small smile. “Believe me, I know...”

He gave her another nod and left without saying anything else.