They took a taxi to meet with Frederick at another hotel. Unlike Quentin, Freddy had naturally chosen the most modern, ostentatious hotel he could find and settled himself in the largest suite they had available at short notice, and for once Quentin was rather wistful about the whole thing. His cheap little hotel room had everything he and Laurence really needed, whereas Freddy was likely paying six times as much just for twice the size of room and access to a gym.

It really was a large room, though.

Michael occupied the vast bed, propped up on pillows and tucked in as though he were a small child. The sight made Quentin uneasy, so he glanced around the rest of the modernist bedroom.

“Perhaps we could have this conversation out in the living room,” he offered.

“I’m not moving Michael,” Freddy stated as he rearranged furniture so that they could all sit comfortably.

“This is fine,” Laurence said. He parted the curtains and opened the window to let Windsor in, and the big bird leaped up to Laurence’s shoulder to sit there like an omen of doom.

Quentin settled into a chair and crossed his legs. He settled his hands together in his lap and held his head high.

“I must say,” Freddy drawled as he settled opposite, one hand idly resting on the bed, “I expected you to kill him.”

“I don’t doubt.” He looked to Laurence as his lover finally sat. “You were not the only one.”

“You can’t trust him, Icky.”

Quentin turned the full force of his glare on Freddy. The anger which seemed a constant companion now felt as though it might burn straight through Freddy’s head and out the other side.

Freddy’s eye twitched. He blanched a little.

“I have no intention of trusting him,” he said, keeping his words quiet. Clipped. “You want him dead. Truth be told I want him dead too. But it isn’t right, and it won’t bring Mama back.”

“He has to bloody pay, Icky!” Freddy seethed.

“As do you.”

Freddy’s lip curled and he looked toward the window. “I did what I had to, to save Michael,” he snarled.

“Do you think I should make you pay for that?” Quentin laced his fingers together slowly. “Hurt you for hurting Laurence? Let alone what you did to me? Do you think I should hurt you for destroying everything I thought I knew about myself?”

He cut off before that anger could grow, before it could reach out and throttle Freddy.

“You deserve to know,” Freddy said, his voice hoarse. “It’s not fair on you not to.”

“None of this is fair,” he hissed. “None of it! All he’s done for all our lives is hurt us, and now he’s hurt the ones we love, too.” He gestured toward Michael, who swallowed tightly and ran a hand across his own chest. “Because he felt obligated to. Because he had a legacy. Because he knew nothing but pain and hurt and duty and that’s all he could teach us.” Quentin shook his head sharply. “If I were to hurt him for all that he’s done, all I would be doing is carrying his legacy on. If I hurt you for the things he made you do to us, who does that benefit? Nobody. It would only bring more pain, more hatred, and it would solve nothing. It has to end somewhere, Freddy. We can’t just keep passing it on like a hot bloody potato.”

“He’s right.” Laurence sighed and reached up to pet Windsor’s head. “Goddess, I wish he wasn’t, but he’s right. He wanted to turn us all against each other and he almost succeeded, but I don’t think killing in anger is wise.”

Quentin couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow in Laurence’s direction.

“In anger,” Laurence repeated. “After careful consideration is another matter entirely.”

He pursed his lips, but there would be no argument on the matter. Just as he had been bred to be a weapon, Laurence was a born hunter. It was wired through every fiber of his being, and they had already seen what would happen if Laurence were to deny his instincts.

Freddy sighed and shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he muttered.

“There’s no way for it to be all tied up neatly,” Quentin murmured as he forced himself to remain calm. “It’s too messy a business.”

“Then what do you propose?”

Quentin leaned back and cracked his knuckles slowly, quietly. “I would like us to find a way,” he said softly, “to put this behind us. I don’t know whether that is possible or how long it might take, but you have always been there for me, Frederick, and I would hope that I could be there for you should it ever be necessary. You are my brother.”

“I’m not… a good person, Icky. I’m not like you. Hell, I don’t even know how you manage to be like you after…” Freddy halted and gripped the duvet under his hand. “You owe me nothing. I’m content to await your forgiveness, should you ever choose to grant it.”

He bit the tip of his tongue a while, then looked to Laurence. “What do you say, darling?”

Laurence shifted in his chair, and Windsor hopped off onto the nearby desk. “Mikey and I had a talk. We kinda worked a few things out between us. And, weird as it sounds, I know Freddy did everything he could to do what he had to do quickly. He did do his best to stop it dragging out as long as it did, and he always planned to undo the damage later.” He sucked air through his teeth and ran his fingers through his new, neatly-trimmed goatee. “I’m not saying it was all chocolates and roses, but I think he genuinely tried to do the right thing and didn’t care whether he broke a few eggshells on the way.”

Quentin inclined his head faintly. “All right. Then I propose that Laurence and I return home. We will furnish you with talismans to protect you from magic, should Father choose to go back on his word. You keep an eye on him, make sure he behaves himself, and if things start to drift off the rails we shall have to intervene. Is that acceptable?”

Freddy glanced to Michael, then gave a slight nod. “All right.”

Quentin looked to Laurence.

“I can do that,” Laurence mused. “It’s a different spell, but I know Rufus has it.”

Quentin nodded, then looked to Freddy. “And if you ever control Laurence without his permission again, this ends. No truce, no friendship, nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

Freddy held up his hands, then stood and offered one of them to Quentin. “Cross my heart, Icky.”

Quentin rose to his feet and took Freddy’s hand, then shook it firmly. “Then we have an agreement.”

* * *

They descended the steps of the hotel and began to wander along the street. He took Laurence’s arm, and Laurence responded by leaning into him as Quentin gently warmed the air around them to keep the worst of the November chill from their bones.

“That went well,” Quentin murmured, “don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Laurence smiled softly and squeezed his arm. “You did great, baby. Though maybe I can say something?”

“Always.” He glanced up to Laurence and returned the smile.

Laurence looked up, and Quentin caught a glimpse of Windsor overhead, a black mark against a gray sky. “I’ve known a lot of people who’ve… been through things,” he said quietly, his smile fading. “I’ll do some reading, too, to see if I can find anything that’ll help. You remember we talked about triggers?”

Quentin nodded faintly and looked ahead. “I do.”

“They might change now. Now you… remember more. Just be aware, okay? It’s all right. We’ll work it out. But I think maybe it’d be best if we tried to stay away from crazy shit for a while. See if we can live a normal life, you know?” He smiled again. “Less of the angry gods and megalomaniac psychics.”

He tipped his head back to look up to Laurence and snorted faintly at him. “I shall have a sign made for the house,” he said. “No cold callers, canvassers, or esoteric threats. I’m sure that will work.”

Laurence laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, okay. I get your point. But at least if trouble does come calling, let me handle it for a while, okay?”

Quentin traced his fingers lightly over Laurence’s arm and up to his shoulder, then patted it, then leaned in to steal a quick kiss. “We shall see,” he murmured.

But he would make no promises.