18
Damien
Damien paused outside the door to Jack’s room, nodding to the Son of Erebus Warrior who had been stationed there as a guard. Thankfully, the Warrior was there to keep Jack in—not to keep people out.
Damien was nervous. Very nervous. Duchess sat beside him, tongue lolling and tail wagging happily.
Perhaps I should be a dog, he thought. They seem to find happiness easily.
He raised his hand to knock, and then couldn’t do it.
Duchess looked up at him and whined.
“Okay. I know. Okay.” He drew a deep breath and knocked.
“Come on in,” Jack said.
Duchess’ ears pricked instantly at the sound of his voice.
“That’s right. It’s Jack,” Damien whispered to her as he keyed the numbers into the deadbolt lock on the door. “Ready?” When she wagged and danced around enthusiastically, Damien decided a little decorum might help. “Sit, Duchess,” he told her. “And wait.”
He opened the door.
Jack was sitting on the bed, watching TV. He had a half-finished liter of blood in his hand. He’d taken his shoes off and had his feet tucked cross-legged under him. His eyes went to Damien first. He opened his mouth, and then Duchess whined and his gaze snapped down to the big, blond lab sitting beside Damien.
“A dog? Really?” Jack’s voice broke adorably, reminding Damien so much of his true love that he wanted to weep.
Instead he forced himself to smile. “Yes, indeed. A dog. Really.”
“I used to love dogs. I mean, I know we’re supposed to all be cat people, but I can’t help it. Plus, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with loving dogs.”
“Right? That’s something we’ve always agreed on. Do you recognize her?”
“Her?”
Damien nodded and patted Duchess on the head. “The dog’s a her. And her name is Duchess.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She certainly is. So, you don’t recognize her?”
Jack tore his gaze from Duchess to meet Damien’s eyes. “No. There aren’t any dogs at the House of Night.”
“She’s not with Stark?”
“General Stark? No. Or if she is, I’ve never seen or heard about her,” Jack said. “Wait, she’s Stark’s dog?”
“Yes, but he shares her. With us.”
Jack’s eyes got huge. “Are you being serious?”
“Ask her.”
Jack swallowed visibly and shifted until his legs dangled over the side of the bed and he faced the two of them. He put the liter jug on his bedside table and then rubbed his hands nervously together. “But cats hate us. All of us. Don’t dogs, too?”
“Us?”
“All red fledglings and vampyres,” Jack explained.
Damien thought quickly. He remembered that Stark hadn’t wanted Duchess to be around him when he was struggling with his own humanity as a young red fledgling. He looked down at Duchess and the lab gazed back at him with eyes filled with unconditional love and acceptance. And he knew Duchess wouldn’t reject Other Jack. Like Grandma Redbird, Duchess would see within him to the Jack they loved.
Then he looked at Jack, who was staring with longing at Duchess.
“Ask Duchess. She knows you. She’ll accept you,” Damien said, and registered the flush of surprise and brief expression of raw happiness that passed over Jack’s face.
“Duchess? Would you come here, pretty girl?”
Duchess glanced quickly up at Damien. “Go on,” he told her with a grin.
She bounded to Other Jack, wiggling joyously as he petted her and told her how soft and special and beautiful she was.
So like his Jack. So very much like his sweet, lost Jack.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Damien hadn’t realized he’d been standing there with tears flowing down his face until Jack spoke.
“Oh, yes.” He swiped at his cheeks. “Sorry. It’s just …” And his words trailed away because the truth was that it was just too painful to put to words.
“I know,” Other Jack spoke softly. “Would you like to come in and sit down?” He motioned to the chair beside the little desk under which the TV was mounted. “Or maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
“I would like to come in. But how do you feel? Do you think you can control yourself?”
Jack kept petting Duchess with one hand while he reached for the jug of blood with the other and took a long gulp before answering. “Yes. I’ve had a lot to drink, and sunrise is close enough that I’m feeling sleepy already.”
“Well, then, I’ll come in for a little while.” Damien took the chair from the desk and moved it beside the bed. Not too close, but not as far away as it had been, either. He set the picnic basket beside him, wondering when would be the right time to share what was inside with Jack.
They sat there in silence while Jack drank from his blood jug and petted Duchess. Finally, Damien said, “You have Netflix down here, you know.” He jerked his chin at the television.
“Oh, good. Movies,” Other Jack said, picking up the remote. “Do you want to watch something with me?”
“Sure. It’ll need to be something short, though, if you’re going to pass out pretty soon.”
“Um, do you have a series here called Make the Date?”
“I don’t think so. What is it?”
“OMG, it’s awesomesauce. It’s about these two guys—gay, of course.” Jack paused.
“Of course,” Damien said automatically. Just as he had said so, so many times before. He blinked fast, not wanting to spoil the moment with tears. “What about the two guys?
“Well, it’s a dating reality show. Only the gays run the whole thing—who’s fixed up with who, what they wear, how their hair and makeup look, where they go on the date. They even get to choose if the couples have another date together, or they can trade them for another contestant on the show. At the end of each season there is at least one proposal. And drama. So much drama. You’d love it.”
“It sounds divine, but I’m sure we don’t have it here. We do have a show I’m 100 percent sure you’ll love. It’s called Project Runway. Ever heard of it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, good. Give me the remote and I’ll find the latest season for you. Wait till you see Tim Gunn. He’s fantastic. I actually met him recently at a House of Night party in New York, and he’s as fantastic in real life as he seems on the show.” Damien leaned forward, his arm extended and hand held out for the remote.
Without any hesitation, Jack gave him the remote.
Their fingers touched. Their eyes met.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Damien splayed his fingers so that even though the remote was between them, he could still feel the warmth of Jack’s skin.
When Jack’s eyes began to turn rust colored, Damien released him and leaned back in the chair as if nothing had happened.
“Okay, let’s see. Oh, here’s the button.” He was punching in P-R-O-J-E-C-T when Jack’s words tore at his heart.
“I missed you so much. You left me. All alone. In that terrible, terrible world. You left me.”
Damien put the remote in his lap and turned his chair to face Other Jack.
“In this world, it was you who left me.”
“Not on purpose, right? Zoey said my death was made to look like an accident, even though she thinks it had something to do with Neferet. But whether it did or not, I for sure didn’t go on purpose. You did. You killed yourself.”
Damien drew a deep breath and let it out slowly before he could speak. “How? How did I kill myself?”
“You ran a bath and slit your wrists. I found you like that. Dead. Cold. Bloody. It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Not even this,” he gestured violently to the outline of the red crescent on his forehead, “is worse.”
“I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry.” Then, slowly, Damien began to tell Other Jack what he had never told anyone ever before. “But I understand your Damien. I’ve felt that same depression—that same hopelessness.”
“In this world, too?”
Damien nodded.
“But only after I died, right?”
Damien sighed heavily. “No. Before. A long time before. I’ve felt sad and broken for as long as I can remember. It’s why I’ve always been into books and studying. It helps me escape. And my depression got better when I was Marked and came here. I was accepted here. I wasn’t bullied anymore, or not much anyway. Well, not at all after Erik Night made me his roommate, but that’s another story. Then you were Marked, and we fell in love. And I thought the terrible sadness had gone away, but it hadn’t. It was like it was sleeping and waiting.”
“For what?”
“For a quiet time. A normal time. A time when I wasn’t newly in love, or busy helping Z save the world. Basically, it was waiting for life to go on. And then it woke up, and I’ve been trying to put it back to sleep ever since. It’s just today, just a few minutes ago, that I realized there is no putting it to sleep. I have to fix it, heal it—heal myself.”
“How?”
“I’m not really sure, but I do know coming down here and being with you is a step toward healing. I also know I have to talk about my feelings. Have to admit I need help.” Damien held out his hand. Hesitatingly, Other Jack took it. “I love you, Jack Twist. In any world. In any form. I love you, and if it is within my power, I will never, ever leave you. I want you to know that.”
“I love you, too, Damien. All I want is you. You’re all I’ve wanted since the day I met you.”
Damien couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to help himself. He wanted Jack. He pulled on Jack’s hand, bringing him closer. Carefully, moving deliberately so that Jack was aware of what was coming, Damien drew him closer and closer—until their lips were only a breath apart.
“Please kiss me,” Damien murmured.
Jack did. It was a sweet, innocent kiss. Their lips barely rested on one another’s.
Damien blocked out Jack’s smell and focused on the way his lips felt. They were the same—still soft and full. He still had no stubble, only a sweet smattering of peach fuzz that tickled with beloved familiarity. Damien reached up and let his hand caress Jack’s hair. And it was Jack’s hair—soft, slightly curly, and a little too long—or too short, depending on your sense of style. But either way—perfectly Jack. With a moan, Damien deepened the kiss, finding Jack’s tongue.
Jack’s arms went up to wrap around Damien’s shoulders.
And then Duchess started to whine at the exact moment Other Jack’s hand slid from his shoulders toward Damien’s neck.
Damien felt the change within Jack instantly.
The kiss hardened—became painful.
Jack’s hand that had been so gently resting on Damien’s shoulder was suddenly viselike, holding him in place so that he couldn’t move when Jack wrenched his lips from their kiss. Jack snarled, baring his teeth—and then his free hand was snaking around Damien’s neck—
“Aaah!” Other Jack shrieked, jerking his hand away from the slim strand of turquoise it had found.
Damien stood so fast that he overturned his chair. Duchess moved quickly, too, positioning herself between Jack and Damien, though she didn’t growl and she didn’t threaten. She simply sat there, looking at Jack as she whined pitifully.
Other Jack cradled his hand against his stomach and used his legs to push himself backwards on the bed. “Go. And take her away, too. I don’t want either of you to see me like this.” His voice was rough, and Damien could see the red glow of his changed eyes.
“No.”
“Go on! I’m a monster! And I can’t help myself even though I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he sobbed brokenly.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Damien took the blood jug from the bedside table and tossed it to Jack, who caught it with the preternatural speed of a predator. “And you’re not a monster. You’re sick. That’s all. And I believe we’re going to figure out a way to make you well.”
“You should stay away from me until then. I can’t control myself.” He unscrewed the cap of the jug and downed the rest of the liquid thirstily.
“Jack, you did control yourself.”
Jack swallowed, wiped his lips, and then looked down at his hand, which was red and blistered, but was already beginning to heal. “What was that?”
Damien righted his chair and sat down, petting Duchess reassuringly. “Turquoise infused with the love of a grandma.”
Jack looked at Damien. His eyes were already beginning to fade from red back to hazel. “It hurt me.”
“Not you. It hurt the Darkness inside you that’s making you sick. Do you really want us to leave?”
“No,” Jack’s voice was muted, broken. “But you should. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. We won’t let you—Duchess, Grandma, and me.”
“You really won’t leave?”
“Not unless you truly want me to,” Damien said.
“Please don’t,” Jack said so faintly Damien almost didn’t hear him. “I’m so tired of being alone.”
“Then I won’t leave.” He bent and opened the picnic basket, taking out the thermos and the two cut-crystal wine glasses.
“Ooooh, those are so pretty!” Jack said, sounding more and more like himself.
“They are lovely, aren’t they? Here, one is for you.” He offered it to Jack, who hesitantly scooted to the edge of the bed to take it. Then Damien opened the thermos and poured them both full glasses of the warm red liquid that filled the room with the enticing fragrance of fresh blood.
Damien watched Other Jack carefully. His eyes began to change color, but as soon as he drank from the glass they faded again. Remembering what Grandma had said, Damien felt around in the bottom of the basket and found a fresh Himalayan chew, which he tossed to Duchess. She caught it neatly, then jumped up on the foot of Jack’s bed, circled a few times, and with a happy sigh, lay down and began to chew.
“I really, really like her.” Jack spoke in a hushed voice, as if he was afraid of startling Duchess, but all the big lab did was wag her tail.
“You always have,” Damien said. Then he looked back in the basket, and pulled out the copy of Last Seen Leaving. “You know what else you’ve always liked?”
Jack sipped from the wine glass before saying, “No, tell me.”
“You’ve always liked it when I read to you.”
“You’ve never read to me before.”
“Seriously?”
Jack nodded. “Yep. You were too busy studying or writing papers and such.”
“Well, I’m not too busy now. Would you like me to read to you?”
“Yeah, I would.” Jack took the thermos from where Damien had put it on the night table and refilled his glass. “But I’m going to fall asleep as soon as the sun sets. I can’t help it.”
“Then I’ll sit here and read you to sleep.”
Jack’s eyes were shining again, but this time with unshed tears. “Will you be here when I wake up, too?”
“Always,” Damien told him firmly. “Always, my love.” Then he opened the book and began reading, “Last Seen Leaving by Caleb Roehrig. Chapter One. ‘Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.’—Edna St. Vincent Millay. There was a corpse in my neighbor’s front yard …”