Necromancer Legacy - 4. Devil may care

Nick managed to get up and go to work even after all the craziness. And it was easier than he’d thought.

For one, he felt better; he had more energy. He had slept well, and eaten breakfast. His roommate had noticed, too.

“You look… different,” Shane had said earlier, studying him. “Better. Less tired.” And he had gone back to playing Diablo 3 on his laptop.

The tattoo and piercing parlor was a small place flanked by two bigger buildings, just a block away from Nick’s apartment. Julian had named his establishment Love Needles. Apparently he thought that was a good name. He hadn’t asked Nick for his opinion.

Today Julian kept his sunglasses inside, and he lay down on the couch in the back of the shop, which was usually the waiting area for customers. But they had no customers right now.

“Why do we even bother opening on Sunday?” Nick asked. “Especially on St-Patrick’s…”

He leafed through the appointment book at the cash counter. Roxy had two people that afternoon. That wasn’t much. She was usually busier than that.

“There’s usually some people anyway. If we’re lucky we’ll get some drunk ones—that’s always funny. Hey, if someone comes in for a piercing, you do it,” Julian said.

“You won’t even supervise?”

“Nah. It’s been what, a year? Almost? I trust you.”

Nick smiled, looking up from the book. “Do you really? Or are you just too hungover to care?”

“Um, both? Where’s Roxy?” Julian pressed a hand to his temple, entangling his fingers in his red-dyed hair.

“She went to get coffee, remember?”

“It’s taking forever.”

Nick looked at the front door, but still no Roxy. Feeling bored, Nick glanced around, checking to make sure the pictures of tattoo designs that littered the walls weren’t peeling off—they just used regular tape, which wasn’t always the most reliable way of decorating.

“So any success last night?” Julian asked.

Not exactly. I almost died, actually.

By 'success' Julian meant sex. “No. You?”

“Yeah.”

When Nick put on some music on the computer—one of his favorite electronic tunes from Julian’s selection—Julian tapped his boots against the worn brown leather of the couch.

“Good one,” he said. “You should be DJ at Laid-Back.”

“I already have two jobs. I’m not getting a third one. So who did you sleep with?”

“Just… some guy. It was awkward, anyway. He was like, anti-drugs, and stuff. So he decides he doesn’t mind I’m high. But then after… you know. He still gives me a condescending speech.”

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “Some people have no decency.”

“I swear, man. What about that blonde kid? Thought you guys left together.”

“We did leave together, but, um, yeah it turns out he’s not into me at all. But I still kissed him.” Nick shrugged modestly.

“How was it?”

“I could feel the homophobia. So pretty great. All that pent up frustration, you know.”

“Not really, but if you’re into that.”

“Sarcasm, Julian. But I wouldn’t say it was completely bad. He didn’t really kiss back, though, so I can’t really say…”

Also, according to that ‘blonde kid’ my father was the demon responsible for his parents’ death, so that might have tempered the mood. But you know. No big deal.

Roxy came back with coffee—and green tea for Nick. Very sweet of her. Julian always forgot he preferred tea, but Roxy always remembered.

“Thanks Rox,” Nick said to her, and she blew him a kiss before disappearing in her tattoo stall to work on a drawing.

Her name was Roxanne, but she hated it and preferred shorter nicknames. This was because people kept singing the song every time they heard her name when she was a kid. The Police’s song; you know the one. Now, in her late twenties, if someone dared to sing it in her presence she punched them in the face—or so she said. Nick had never wanted to try. She liked to wear those weird spiked rings, so her punches were probably lethal.

They had a quiet day, with just Roxy’s two appointments, and a couple of people that hopped in for piercings. And one that wanted a piercing removed because he didn’t like it and it had gotten all infected, and… well.

That was part of the job, too.

Just before Nick left for his second job, Julian asked him something weird. He came to lean his tattooed arms next to the cash register.

“Hey, Jay got some of his stuff stolen last night. Just some outfit he left in his locker. But he said they were really expensive clothes. Do you know anything about that?”

“No, why would I?” Sure, he knew where Jay’s locker was, but he would never steal his stuff, surely Jay didn’t suspect him…

Julian replaced his sunglasses on top of his head. “No, it’s just… I remembered… that guy who was with you. He had the same t-shirt. The one that says ‘I want to be tamed’ or something. Jay had that custom made, so it can’t be a coincidence.”

“I guess…”

Why would Sasha steal the bartender’s clothes?

“Man,” Nick said, “that guy really is a jerk. I hope he returns the clothes, anyway.”

“Aren’t you going to see him again?”

“No.”

“Not even just to get the clothes back? Jay would really appreciate it. There’s no need to call the cops or anything, I’m sure there’s an explanation…”

“Look, Julian, I’m sorry, but he’s a jerk, and I never want to see him again. I don’t even have his phone number.”

Julian seemed to understand. He nodded, and he let it go.

Nick wasn’t even lying. He never did want to see Sasha again. He just wanted to properly meet Gabriel.

So all he needed to do now was wait for Gabriel’s phone call. He hadn’t called yet; Nick had checked his phone about a hundred times, so he’d know.

What if Gabriel had gotten worst? Or what if he had gotten better, but wanted nothing to do with Nick?

Anyway.

His second job was at an indoors rock climbing gym in Brooklyn. The gym was called Heights—another creative name—and co-owned by Shane’s father. Hence how Nick got the job there.

Shane’s father didn’t work on weekends.

In fact, Nick was the only one working tonight. Some rich teenage girl from one of the beginner classes had requested private lessons. Some sixteen year old girl named Zelda. Her father had called to discuss it and everything. Nick wasn’t complaining. This was good, easy money.

She came in wearing high heel boots, a skirt and a tiny jacket, her coppery hair in a high ponytail that bounced as she walked. Her gym clothes were in a huge glossy designer bag.

“Hey,” she said, looking all excited.

This was weird. Usually, kids—or teens—didn’t like him. They thought he was too strict. Sometimes they even requested another instructor. This girl seemed to like him, though. Go figure.

After she had changed, they set up their equipment at the easiest beginners wall.

First he was teaching her how to belay. It took forever just for her to learn how to do a figure eight knot. Ugh. Maybe easy money wasn’t the best word. This was using up all his patience.

But he managed. This was work.

Zelda’s dad came to pick her up after the lesson. But she lingered in the lobby, seemingly having trouble zipping up her boot.

“So, I was wondering if, um…” She played with her hair, blushed, and laughed nervously. “Um… so, do you want to—?”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and his fingers instinctively reached for it. Unknown number. “Sorry,” he said, “I have to take this.”

“Oh…” She looked really disappointed. “Well, bye, then…”

She left to meet up with her dad, but Nick wasn’t paying attention anymore.

“Yeah, hi,” he said in the phone, “sorry about that. I was, um, I’m at work. But I’m done now.”

Then he felt silly. What if it wasn’t Gabriel? He was clutching the phone so tightly, and getting his hopes up…

“Nicholas?”

“Yeah, this is he.” Nick closed his eyes, winced. Who says that?

“Just making sure. This is Gabriel.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I thought you might call. You know. How are you? I mean… Are you okay, now?”

He stalked across the lobby to the reception desk—a massive slab of mahogany wood, littered with random papers, brochures, and business cards. He sat on it because he wasn’t sure he could stand. His legs felt all weird.

His brother. He was talking to his brother right now.

“I’m… better. You?”

His voice sounded so calm and composed. And nice. And brotherly.

Okay, that last one was probably just his imagination.

“Uh, yeah, me too.”

“You’re really okay? That’s such a relief. Listen, I’d really like to see you in person. Over the phone, it’s a little…”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed, “I’d like that, too.”

Maybe they could go to a coffee shop, and have endless conversations like those people did in coffee shops. That would be nice. Just the two of them.

“How about dinner at my place, on Saturday?”

Oh, well, that worked too, even though Nick didn’t really want to go back to that apartment so soon. But if Sasha wasn’t there, then it would be okay. Maybe Sasha worked that night, or had other plans, like going out to steal some poor bartender’s clothes—

“Sasha doesn’t work that night,” Gabriel added.

Huh.

“I was kind of hoping, that…” Nick looked up, staring at the ceiling fan.

“What?”

“Maybe, um… It would be better if…”

“Sasha really wants to see you again.”

Nick nearly fell off the desk.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. He said you two really hit it off. Sure, he mentioned how it was a bit weird when he knocked at your door and said he needed to speak with you, out of the blue, like that… But he said you were very understanding, and you listened to the whole story, and you were really moved by it and wanted to help… When he told me that… You know, it means a lot to me. Don’t get me wrong, at first I was angry that he went to you for help, because I never wanted you to be mixed up in all this mess. But then I realized you have a right to know, and you’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Okay. This was rich.

Knocked at my door and said he needed to speak with me?

Fucking Sasha. That liar. That little—

“So… what do you think? Saturday?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Saturday’s perfect.”

“Great. I can’t wait.” He sounded so nice and sincere. Nick didn’t have the heart to tell Gabriel that his adoptive brother was a big fat liar.

“Yeah, it’ll be great.”

He started to despair, though. Now Gabriel thought Nick had already gotten the whole story. But that couldn’t be it. Witch mothers, demon-possessed father, exorcism, so many deaths… What of this supposedly demonic energy inside him? Was it okay to just ignore it and move on? He felt fine now, but what about in the long run? In any case, Nick wanted—no, needed—to hear Gabriel’s version. Now he felt like he’d never get the explanations he deserved. Not with Sasha’s lies getting in the way.

 

***

 

Shane poked his head in Nick’s bedroom, which was usually so tidy, but now there were clothes everywhere.

“What are you taking two hours choosing your clothes for, princess?”

“Nothing.”

Shane narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not nothing; you’re lying.”

“You should become a detective.”

Shane was right, though. So many clothes. Nick could barely see the bed covers underneath.

“Maybe I will. I hate physics.”

“Why study it, then?”

“Cause I thought I liked it. But now they expect us to do all this work… Who has time for that?”

Nick wasn’t making much progress with his decision. He just wore his boxers now. Shane didn’t mind; he was no better. Sometimes Shane walked around the apartment naked, and Nick had to throw a pillow at him and tell him to put some clothes on. Once, he had joked that Shane should be careful; Nick was a dangerous homosexual pervert after all and he might randomly attack him. To which Shane replied that if he did, then he could cross ‘sleeping with a guy’ off his things-to-do-before-thirty list.

“You should wear this.” Shane had gone to his own bedroom to fetch an item, and now Nick was presented with a black and electric blue zebra print shirt.

“I’m not going to a club, Shane, and even if I was—”

“Then where are you going?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Nick picked up a pair of black skinny jeans that was seemingly identical to several other pairs—why did he have so many black jeans?

Shane scratched his neck. “Tell me what?”

“But you were always so busy playing Diablo, or watching that kid’s show, or whatever it is you do lately.” Nick was just stalling for time. He put on the stupid jeans, and then looked at his belts.

“Pretty much those things,” Shane said. “And MLP isn’t just a kid’s show.”

“Just because you call it MLP instead of My Little Pony doesn’t make it any less of a kid’s show.”

“Maybe, but—”

“Spare me the brony speech.” Stalling for time wasn’t worth that.

“So where are you going? Can I come? I’m really bored.” He leaned against the doorframe.

“Is the internet down or something?”

“Yeah, I have to call the stupid tech support again, ugh…” He sighed dramatically. Then tilted his head as he read some of the handwritten quotes plastered all over Nick’s bedroom walls.

They weren’t allowed to paint, so he had to decorate somehow. Kind of like what Julian had done at Love Needles. Except Julian could have painted.

“There are two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it,” Shane read. “Shakespeare?”

“No.”

“You should wear the white one.” Shane pointed at his belts.

Nick picked up the black one.

“I’m meeting my biological brother tonight.”

“You’re kidding me,” Shane said immediately.

Nick didn’t look at him. He just shook his head. He felt too warm suddenly, so he stalked across the small room to the window, only to realize it was already open. He felt nervous. He dropped his hand, letting his fingers trace the yellow edged leaves of the snake plant that sat on the windowsill.

“You have a brother? How did you even find him? We tried so many times… The orphanage almost got a restraining order against us, so how did you—?”

“He reached out to me, actually,” Nick improvised. He couldn’t tell him the truth. Demonic energy? Come on. Even to him it sounded crazy now. Like he had just imagined the whole thing. “You know, his adoptive brother will be there tonight, so if you want to come, too…”

“I’d love to!” Shane brought his hands together against his chest. “I’m kind of like your adoptive brother, right? Oh, Nick, this is so great! I’ll wear a suit.”

“You don’t have to wear a suit.”

“I want to!”

And he ran to his bedroom.

“Don’t wear a suit, Shane.”

He got no answer.

This was for the best, Nick thought.

It would be easier with Shane there. Some pressure was lifted off his shoulders. They wouldn’t talk about all that… stuff. And it was better this way, really. Nick didn’t want to ask his questions with Sasha there, anyway.

What Sasha had said kept replaying in his head, and in his nightmares. ‘My parents are dead because of you. Because of what’s inside you now.’ Whatever that was.

Okay, Sasha hadn’t used those exact words, but it had been all over his face. Written in those sorrowful green eyes that stared at Nick, making him feel guilty for something that wasn’t even his fault.

He really didn’t want to see Sasha again… But whatever.

It was worth it, to see Gabriel.

The truth was, Nick had thought about it this week—thought about it too much—and now he wasn’t sure he wanted more explanations about his past.

Or maybe he was just trying to escape his problems again. Too afraid of hearing Gabriel’s version.

What if he blames me and hates me even more than Sasha does?

Nick ignored that little voice in his head. It wasn’t a demonic voice or anything. It was his own. But that wasn’t much better; apparently he was perfectly capable of freaking out all by himself.

After putting on a black dress shirt, Nick sighed as he looked at his reflection in the tall mirror behind his door. Great. He looked like he was going to a funeral.

Maybe the white belt was better after all.

Nick found himself thinking that perhaps they should just never bring it up again. All that demon stuff. Maybe they should just all forget about it. After all, this week had been perfectly normal. No hallucinations. No visions. No weirdly named British reaper.

Good week, all in all. Considering.

 

***

 

They decided to take a cab since there was some kind of torrential downpour outside. Shane really was wearing a suit after all. There had been no getting him out of it. At least Nick had convinced him to lose the bow tie.

It was just a ten minutes drive from their apartment to Gabriel’s. They paid and rushed to the apartment building. Nick had already texted Gabriel to let him know that Shane was coming. They pressed on the three digits and waited awkwardly. But nothing happened. Then some other people came in and entered in a different number, and the door was unlocked with that loud, unpleasant buzzing noise. Nick exchanged a glance with Shane; they shrugged, and followed the other people in. Maybe Gabriel hadn’t heard it.

As they climbed all the way up to the fifth floor—Nick didn’t much like elevators, and Shane, well, he was just being a good friend, though his breathing became a bit wheezy—Nick felt an annoying, nagging nervousness spreading steadily through him. It was making him fidgety and anxious. His palms were becoming kind of sweaty. Damn it, he thought, wiping them on his jeans, what if Gabriel wanted to give him a handshake? No good. Sweaty palms weren’t a good first impression. Not in a job interview. And certainly not when meeting a long lost brother.

“Hey Nick, didn’t you say we were supposed to be here at six?”

“Yeah.”

Shane was checking his cell. “It’s like five forty. Maybe we’re too early.”

“I thought the cab ride would take longer. Isn’t there usually traffic, like all the time?”

“Apparently not today.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Better to be early than late, right?”

Nick brushed it off, but he felt even more nervous now. He wiped his hands again. He felt kind of sick. His chest was tightening for some reason. Shit. Was he having an anxiety attack, or something?

He’d only had one anxiety attack before, and that was a long time ago, when some crappy foster parents forced him to take a swimming class in junior high even though he didn’t want to, and he almost drowned because those stupid visions happened and he couldn’t move. The teacher had dragged him out, and it had been so humiliating…

Okay. Thinking about that did not help.

“Are you okay?” asked Shane. They reached the fifth floor and went to knock on the door.

Nick tugged at his collar, even though it wasn’t tight at all. If he just focused on breathing properly, maybe it would be okay.

“Yeah, just, you know. That was a lot of stairs.” Not that it was a problem for him; he was in pretty good shape. But Shane didn’t need to know that.

“Man, you really need to work on your fear of elevators.”

“It’s not a fear,” he replied defensively, “it’s just, what if it gets stuck, you know?”

Shane rolled his eyes.

No one was opening the door. Shane tried the door knob.

It wasn’t locked. So he opened it.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s not locked!” Shane exclaimed. “What’s the problem? He’s your brother. Maybe he’s cooking, and he didn’t hear us. I can smell cooking. It smells really good, actually.”

Shane was right. There was definitely something cooking, but not dinner. More like… something sweet. Like brownies. It did smell nice, even though Nick didn’t usually like sweets. So there was definitely someone in the apartment.

They figured out the reason why no one was hearing them: music. It came from one of the bedrooms. Not Gabriel’s. Nick remembered where that one was. He had almost died in it after all.

Sasha’s bedroom, then. Nick walked across the hallway—he couldn’t help but notice how nice the hardwood floors were here, and they didn’t creak, either, now that was luxury—and listened. The music was familiar.

Linkin Park. Old school. And… was Sasha singing?

Yeah. He was definitely singing.

Shane knocked. No answer.

“…time is a valuable thing, watch it fly by as the pendulum swings, watch it countdown ‘til the end of the day, the clock ticks life away…”

“Hey he’s good!” Shane smiled. “Is that your brother? We should open it.”

“No! Just knock louder.”

“It’s okay, we’ll surprise him!”

“Shane, don’t—”

Too late. Shane pushed the door open.

“Hi there!”

“What the hell?” Sasha cried out before throwing a tissue box at Shane.

Right in his face.

“You can’t just walk in like that!” Sasha closed his laptop angrily, and the music stopped. “What are you doing? That’s not okay.”

“Wow,” Shane said, “you two don’t look anything alike.”

Nick scratched his hair, sighing. “Shane… that’s not him. That’s Sasha, his adoptive brother.”

Shane held his right hand for a handshake. He held the tissue box in the left.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ll try to forgive the fact that you just threw this at me. Although, I hope you never get robbed. Not exactly the best weapon.”

Sasha wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t shaking his hand either. He grabbed the box and tossed it on the desk. Now that he took a better look, Nick noticed just how messy Sasha’s bedroom was. There was a chair buried under a pile of clothes in one corner. School books all over the floor. Some of them were opened. Some of them had ripped pages. Sasha stepped out of his bedroom and shut the door before Nick could keep analyzing the mess.

“You’re just lucky it was the first thing I found.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Shane said. “I swear. I thought you were doing a really good job, with that song. I can’t sing like that, or rap, or… anything. It just sounds weird if I try. Which,” he laughed, “I try sometimes, you know, but only when I’m alone.”

Sasha walked around them and made his way to the kitchen.

“Yeah well I thought I was alone.”

Shane stopped laughing. “Right. I’m sorry. So… where’s Nick’s brother?”

“He’s not back from work yet. He should be here soon.”

The kitchen was immaculate. Nick could tell that an effort had been made. Sasha looked nice, too, actually; slim dark blue jeans and white long sleeve shirt. It even looked like he had brushed his hair.

Surely all this was just keep up the facade with Gabriel, though.

Sasha opened the oven, and took out what was in it. Nick had been right; those looked like brownies. But it smelled like—

“Peanut butter brownies!” Shane exclaimed. “Awesome. So… is that our dinner?” He tried a little laugh but it seemed to die in his throat at Sasha’s look.

Sasha glanced at Nick, taking off the oven mitts and tossing them onto the counter.

“Does he actually think he’s funny?”

“He’s just trying to be nice,” Nick said, “and make conversation. That’s what normal people do. You know, I’d really like to tell you something in private. Just…stay here Shane, all right? It won’t be long.”

“Um, okay…”

Sasha rolled his eyes, but he led him back to his bedroom and they closed the door.

“What is it?”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t play dumb.” Nick kept his voice low, so Shane wouldn’t hear. “I know what you said to Gabriel. He told me. I know you lied.”

Sasha swallowed, his arms crossed tight against his chest. He was avoiding Nick’s gaze.

Nick added, “So you better act nice, okay? If you don’t want me telling him the truth about how you got me here. I bet you didn’t tell him I almost died, either. Probably thinks my health was nice and peachy the whole freaking time.”

“I am acting nice. I made stupid brownies.”

Nick leaned against the wall, next to the door, and he let out a chuckle. Then he laughed. He just couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Sasha looked confused. “What’s so funny?”

Nick shook his head, and he sighed shakily, pressing a hand to his chest. Sasha’s bedroom was kind of nice, if you forgot about the mess. The walls were bi-colored; apple green and dark orange. Nick usually hated the color orange, but this shade was nice. Like sunset.

“I don’t know. We’re trying to act all normal. When… when the last time I was here so much weird stuff happened. When we both know we hate each other.”

“We better go back to your friend.” Sasha grabbed the door knob, but before turning it he glanced up at Nick.

They were standing a bit too close for comfort. Nick found himself somewhat intimidated by Sasha’s stare—pale green eyes; feline-like—but he didn’t falter. Also he couldn’t help but notice that Sasha smelled really nice. Something difficult to describe—pure and fresh, and sweet.

“Are you keeping it under control?” It was almost a whisper.

Nick frowned slightly. “Keeping what under control?”

Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s playing dumb now?”

“I’ve never been better. Nothing’s happened. No visions. No demons. Nothing.”

Sasha was still studying his face. Nick twitched and his gaze flicked downward. He absently noted Sasha wore a silver chain necklace. The pendant was tucked under his shirt though, so Nick couldn’t see what it was.

“Let’s just…”

“Yeah,” Sasha said.

They went back to the other room. Shane was just standing there awkwardly. Actually he was looking at the brownies.

“Those look really good.”

“It’s not actually dinner, though,” Sasha said, attempting a little smile. “Gabriel’s bringing takeout. Chinese. Hope that’s okay with everyone. We’re not really strong on cooking. Well, I do cook obviously but just cookies and cakes and stuff.”

“That’s pretty cool! With Nick we’re not really good at cooking either. So is that what you want to do? Pastry school or something?”

“No,” Sasha said.

Shane went quiet; Sasha wasn’t too good at the whole conversation thing. Sasha led them to the living room to wait for Gabriel. It was pretty trendy, with black and white modern art paintings—trees and birds mostly—and crisp white sofas. The glass coffee table was spotless. The flat screen television sat on a pale wood stand, and on either side shelves of the same material held various books and some movies. Buying movies was still a thing, apparently. Nick noted that some of the books were the same he had at home; sci-fi mostly, but also fantasy novels and thrillers. Orson Scott-Card’s Ender’s Game was in there, and Dean Koontz’s Odd Thomas, and—

“Nick?”

He whipped around. “What?”

Shane was smiling at him from the sofa. “You seemed lost in your own little world there.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He went to sit next to Shane.

Sasha took place on the other sofa, grabbing a black pillow and clutching it to his chest. He looked at the TV screen like it might magically turn on. Well, maybe TVs did that now. Nick wasn’t much aware of new technology.

Shane gazed at Sasha with an amused look in his eyes. “Nick does that too, with the pillows at home. He doesn’t use them for his back. Just grabs them. First thing he does when we sit for a movie…”

Sasha threw away the pillow, as though Shane had just told him it was poisoned.

Shane cleared his throat. “So, are you still in high school?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you work, too, or just school?”

“I have two jobs, actually.”

“Hey, Nick also has—” They both stared at him, and he stopped.

“What’s with the suit?” Sasha snapped.

“I just thought, you know, I just wanted to look nice. This is important. Nick’s brother—”

“Are you two together?” Sasha eyed them suspiciously.

Shane laughed, crossing his legs. “No way, that would be way too weird! Nick moved in with me and my folks when he was fourteen. My parents practically adopted him, so we’re kind of like brothers ourselves. I’m straight, anyway.”

“Me too,” Sasha quickly said.

Which was kind of weird; no one had asked him. Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“So where do you work?” Shane asked.

“I work night shifts at a coffee shop. And I give swimming lessons for kids at a sports center on the weekend.”

“That’s a lot, with school,” Shane said, nodding appreciatively.

Sasha shrugged. “I can handle it.”

So smug. How had Nick even found Sasha attractive, on that first night? It was probably just the MDMA. Nick was so never touching that stuff again.

Shane was still making attempts at conversation; he deserved a medal, or something.

“That’s so cool, though,” Shane was saying. “Swimming lessons for kids. I love swimming. Nick hates it though. Just hates water for some reason.”

Sasha didn’t look like he cared much. He hadn’t even looked at Nick once since they’d walked in the living room. Shane cleared his throat and rubbed his head; a habit he had ever since shaving everything but the top part of his hair. Basically he looked like he was trying really hard to find something else to say. Nick felt the urge to hug him for being such a good friend. And just for being here, really. Nick so wouldn’t want to be alone with Sasha right now.

The door opened then. Gabriel was here. Thank God.

“Hey… sorry I’m a little late, but I come bearing food…”

Sasha went to help him. There was some rustling as Gabriel took off his coat and shoes, and keys were dropped on a counter. Shane and Nick rose from the couch, but they weren’t sure if they were supposed to follow Sasha or just wait here…

Nick’s heart was racing.

Sasha went to the kitchen with the food, and they heard him drag out some plates from the dishwasher. Gabriel stepped in the living room, all hesitant and timid. He was tall—even taller than Nick. They did look very much alike, with some differences. Gabriel looked more Asian. Nick could easily pass as Caucasian with his pale skin, even though he had slightly slanted eyes and sleek raven hair. Gabriel’s skin was tanner and his stylish short hair was jet black.

Shane broke the ice. He mirrored Nick’s thoughts. “I knew it,” he said, waving a finger at Nick. “I knew one of your parents had to be Asian.”

“Our mother was Korean,” Gabriel said.

Gabriel looked all business-like and professional, wearing slim black pants, a pale gray dress shirt, dark blue tie, and sporting rectangular black framed glasses. He even carried a briefcase, which he put down against the wall. A magazine was sticking out of the side pocket. Financial Times.

Nick really hoped Gabriel wouldn’t start a conversation on the economy, or politics—Nick’s opinions on those topics were pretty limited: the system was corrupt beyond repair, and Nick didn’t even want to vote, because he wasn’t interested in trying to choose a lesser evil, pathetically tracing an X in a little box while being filled with a sense of helplessness and despair.

Not everyone shared those opinions, especially not, Nick assumed, people who wore nice suits and read stuff like the Financial Times.

Nick realized Gabriel was staring at him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Nick blurted out. He hoped they couldn’t hear his heart hammering.

“Yeah, of course, but it’s… surreal.” Gabriel smiled, and let out a breath. “It’s kind of like looking in a mirror.”

“You two really look alike,” Shane nodded. “It’s pretty crazy.”

They all sat down, and Sasha came back with the plates and the food which he had put in bowls on a tray.

“There,” Sasha said, clearly trying to lighten the mood, “now it looks like it was homemade.”

No one started eating. And no one was talking. Well, this was just…

“So, Gabriel, what do you do for work?” Shane asked.

Thank God for Shane.

“I’m a marketing executive,” Gabriel said.

Shane grabbed a plate and chopsticks and helped himself to some food, and then they all did the same. Nick made a note to self to thank Shane later for being so awesome. Nick couldn’t have done this by himself.

“All done with school already, then?” Shane asked Gabriel.

“Yeah, all done. What about you?”

Shane looked up from his food. “I’m in physics at Columbia. I’m not really sure I like it, though.”

“Well, you’re still young. You have time to change your mind, if you want. And you should. Don’t stay in something you don’t like.”

This went on for a little while. It was just Gabriel and Shane talking so far, which wasn’t exactly a success either. This was supposed to be about Nick and Gabriel meeting properly. Nick decided he should make an effort.

Something was strange, though. Nick’s chest was hurting. His heart was still beating fast, even though the nervousness of meeting Gabriel had gone away. And the Chinese take-out food was making him feel a little sick. His appetite had disappeared.

Still, Nick ignored all of that, instead focusing on was Gabriel was saying; right now he was telling Shane how demanding his job was.

“So,” Nick said as Gabriel paused to engulf a mouthful of chow mein, “does your job interfere with your personal life, or…?”

Gabriel looked all glad and relieved that Nick had addressed him. He seemed so earnest, like Nick could have asked what the true meaning of life was, and Gabriel would have done his very best to answer.

“Yeah, actually. Those clients always worry too much—always calling me at the worst times. Unfortunately, it was kind of a deal breaker for my ex. She said she didn’t want to be in a relationship with a guy who’s always on the phone…”

“That sucks,” said Shane, putting down his chopsticks. He had finished most of his food already.

Nick was trying to come up with what to ask Gabriel next, when something happened. Something very much unwanted.

His imaginary friend the British reaper showed up. He just appeared in the living room; Nick looked up and there he was. With all the gear: calf-high boots, black as night outfit, hood, fingerless gloves, and that sword with the little red snake curling around the hilt. Nick could see his pale blue eyes gleaming under his hood. And his smile, too.

“Hey Nicky. Long time, no see.”

Not long enough, Nick thought.

“It’s me, Cyan, remember?”

Unfortunately.

The others couldn’t see or hear Cyan, of course. How convenient.

Shane and Gabriel were talking again, but Nick couldn’t really hear them. He was starting to panic. He felt cold and hot at the same time, like he suddenly had a fever.

Nick glanced toward Sasha for help. But Sasha was very focused on trying to grab his last noodle with his chopsticks.

“I was going to cut you some slack, but the situation is really bad,” Cyan said as he stepped closer. He was nearing the glass table now. “I really need your help.”

His help? What the hell was this guy talking about?

“I’ll explain everything, don’t worry.”

Just ignore him, Nick told himself. He could just ignore him, right? If the others couldn’t see him, then that meant Cyan wasn’t real; he couldn’t do anything.

Somehow the conversation had changed, and now Shane and Gabriel were talking about movies. Nick tried to pay attention, in the spirit of ignoring his unwanted imaginary friend.

“I feel bad for Leo. I can’t believe he never got an Oscar!” Shane was saying, gesturing dramatically with his hands as though he wanted to receive an Oscar himself. “Honestly, his performance was so good. I mean, the Quaaludes scene, right? Enough said.”

Gabriel was nodding in agreement.

Nick was distracted as Cyan’s voice came again, louder this time. “You can’t ignore me!”

Why wasn’t anyone else seeing him? Hearing him?

Cyan stepped over the coffee table without touching anything, without making a sound. Now he stood right in front of Nick, and he bent over, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

“You’ve got to come with me. I’ll show you around. It’s better if your body stays here, for the first time, just to be safe.”

Nick was freaked out. He suddenly sprung from the couch and pushed past Cyan—Nick could actually feel him too, which made it difficult to deny his realness—and rushed out of the living room. He just looked over his shoulder and told the others he needed to go to the bathroom. They were giving him weird looks. Especially Sasha. But Nick just needed to get away from them. He had no idea what was going on. He needed to figure this out.

So he found the bathroom and hid himself in there. His legs felt weak. As he looked down he saw that he had goose bumps all over his arms.

He grabbed the sink counter, but his hand slid, and he just let himself drop to the tiled floor, leaning against the shower stall. He jumped out of his skin when he looked up and saw that Cyan was looming over him, the blackness of his getup clashing with the white bathroom.

“Just go away,” Nick hissed.

“I can’t. I need you. You must come with me. And listen to me.” That ridiculous British accent. It almost sounded faked.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yes, precisely! Hell. We must go, now.”

“What?”

Nick couldn’t crawl away. Cyan had one knee on the floor and he was holding Nick’s shoulders again, staring him down. He looked young; not much older than Nick, from his appearance. He had some freckles across his cheeks, only visible from up close. He looked so real, and his hands felt warm on his shoulders.

“Don’t panic, all right?” Cyan said. “It’s going to be okay. All you have to do is stay near me. The first time can be scary, but it doesn't have to be.”

Nick’s body was becoming paralyzed, and cold. This was just like in the dreams—nightmares, visions, hallucinations, whatever those were. It was happening again.

There was blood on the walls. On the towels. Red staining white.

“No…” he grabbed Cyan’s sleeve. He was willing to acknowledge him. To listen to him. Anything... “Not that. Please. Stop it.”

“It’s okay. You’ll get used to it. Just close your eyes.”

And Nick wanted to. It would be so much easier to just close his eyes, and give in.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Cyan.

The bathroom door opened then. Nick hadn’t locked it.

“What’s going on?” It was Sasha.

Sasha closed the door behind himself, and stepped closer hesitantly. Sasha could see Cyan too now, Nick could tell. But Nick couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. And he couldn’t even open his mouth to say something to Sasha.

What would he say, anyway? Ask for help? That would be pathetic. Sasha probably didn’t even care.

“It’s too late,” Cyan said. “He’s coming with me.”

“No, wait—” Sasha took another step closer. But he did nothing.

There was nothing he could do. Cyan was right. It was too late.

Nick saw blood everywhere, and his ears were ringing loudly. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the world had shifted—like in a dream—and he was in a different place.