“Let’s worry about that when you’re actually old enough for it to matter.” Lindsay leaned into the embrace. “So. Any idea what not-senile Cyrus might’ve had in mind?”
Ironically, touching Lindsay made it easier to think. The bone-deep loneliness of separation from the people he loved had made Noah stupid with emptiness. Having his arms around Lindsay and his cheek on Lindsay’s hair calmed everything in him and let his mind work.
“You’ve done everything you can,” he said, sorting through their meager resources. “Kristan’s doing everything she can. There’s only me left.” Cyrus must have believed that no matter how they ended up separated, they’d have the means to reconnect. All Noah had to offer that the others didn’t was the old ways.
“I need a library, some office supplies, and a day and a night to work. Also, some odds and ends from a thrift store.” You could never go far wrong with a silver bowl, an iron needle, a sharp piece of flint and a mirror.
“I think we can manage that.” Lindsay nodded slowly. “I saw a library on my way to Rajan’s office.”
“As soon as I have something to wear, I’ll go.” Noah pressed a kiss to Lindsay’s hair.
“If there’s a Y or a gym around here, I expect you can shower while I’m gone,” he added. The fact that Lindsay had the same dirty little dog smell that Noah remembered from sharing a room with his brothers didn’t bother him at all. It was the undertone of smoke—imagined or not—that made him vaguely queasy. More than vaguely when he inevitably remembered what had been burning.
The front door rattled and banged open, followed by a bellow. “If you two are doing it, I’m joining you whether you like it or not. Otherwise, someone get down here and help me with these goddamn bags.”
Lindsay laughed as he stepped away from Noah and took his hand. “Come on, before she does anything untoward.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to prevent that.” In spite of the horrendous start they’d had, Noah couldn’t help liking Kristan. She’d screwed up, yes, but so had he. And when she could have bailed on everything, she’d stayed. “But we should try.”
Humming his agreement, Lindsay turned and led Noah, sheet and all, downstairs to join Kristan. “You got what you needed?”
“And it wasn’t as much fun as you’d think.” She was headed for the kitchen but she’d left a heap of bags in the front hall, random shopping bags that looked crumpled but stuffed with clothes, a duffel bag and a backpack. “Women who like shopping need a kick in the head.”
“Did you get beer?” Noah couldn’t help himself.
There was a long pause, then Kristan poked her head out of the kitchen. “If you’re not joking, Lindsay should leave now to get Rajan back—if he ever wants to see your dick again. Fuck you, beer. It’s heavy. I bought scotch.” She disappeared and the banging from the kitchen sounded like someone making a sandwich—loudly.
Lindsay shook his head and went to dig through the bags. Noah could see the apprehension in him.
When he came over to help sort Kristan’s haul, he ran his hand down Lindsay’s back to try to ease his discomfort.
The backpack held the heavier items. Bottles in paper bags, and below that, angular metal things, also in paper bags. Guns and booze. Something for everyone. His family used hunting rifles and he’d once carried a handgun, in that other life. He wouldn’t carry one now, not unless Lindsay requested it.
“You’re an only child, I take it?” Lindsay’s discomfort was still palpable.
“Yes.” Lindsay said it flatly. He pulled out a pair of jeans, glanced at the size, and held them out. “I think these are for you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Noah could tell when he’d screwed up. Damn it, he knew that anything before Lindsay came to Cyrus was off-limits. He put the bag down and tugged the jeans on.
“For what?”
“If my question was out of line.” Noah kept his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch. “And I’ll try not to pull Kristan’s hair anymore.”
“It’s. Just.” Lindsay’s shoulders drew up and one of his hands strayed to curl around his other wrist.
He seemed to catch himself doing it, though, and waved his hand dismissively instead. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it. That’s all.”
“This is me, not talking. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll heat you some water. I’ll bring it up and you can wash before you dress.”
Lindsay looked at the cases of bottled water in the corner, then fished a bar of soap out of one of the bags. “Please. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be warm.”
“You’ll turn blue. Go on.” He pointed Lindsay toward the stairs. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
“You’ll want to look nice,” Kristan said, coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of chocolate milk and a sandwich. “Patches wants to borrow you today.”
Lindsay was halfway to the stairs, but he stopped and turned back. “Do you know what she wants?”
“Who?” It wasn’t any of his damn business, but Noah couldn’t help it.
“She helped me find Rajan.” Lindsay didn’t seem concerned, but he was still looking at Kristan, waiting for her to answer him.
“Something about a kid who got jammed up.” Kristan shrugged. “Should be a walk in the park for you.”
If Noah had hair, he’d have pulled it out. Breaking someone out of jail did not sound like a promising side trip. But it was Lindsay’s business and he could well imagine that the return expected for bringing him back from the near-dead was going to be high.
“I’ll get you something to eat and that hot water in a few minutes,” he said, stepping over the bags in the hall. “And I’ll sort this out.” It was better not to leave debts lying behind them, and they’d need to leave soon.
In the kitchen, Noah found an old pot on the back of the counter that looked fairly clean and dumped a few bottles of water into it, and a few more. He’d use what was left to wash anything they wanted to take with them. He stared at the pot for a long moment, trying not to eavesdrop on Lindsay and Kristan.
You’re putting a fire in water. What’s going to go wrong?
There were an infinite number of answers to that question. Noah dropped a pinch of fire into the water and urged it to grow until it was the size of his fist. Behave. He turned his back on it and started making Lindsay’s breakfast. The cheerful fire burbled and chirped as it rolled in the water; it didn’t remember what it had done to him.
The ingredients for the sandwiches were what Noah remembered from when he was a kid—bread, bologna, cheese. He couldn’t see Lindsay drinking chocolate milk, but that was what there was, that or cola. He ended up juggling everything, the pot lid upside down on the pot and all the rest stacked on top of that.
“Lindsay?” He paused at the threshold to the room they’d shared last night.
The door swung open and Lindsay stepped aside to let him in. “Thank you. If I’d realized you’d be carrying all that, I would’ve stayed downstairs to help.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
It was Noah’s place to do this kind of thing; there was a benefit to it to him as well, the focus on the mundane that let raw, unsettled magic rest while the mind learned to be disciplined. Noah had grown up with all the concepts that made it possible to master magic, but he was in the minority, and he didn’t mind keeping with tradition. He put breakfast on the peeling bedside table and set the pot on the floor.
“It’s pretty hot,” he warned. “Do you need anything else right now?”
“I don’t think so.” Lindsay shook his head, and pulled his shirt off, dropping it on the floor. The light streaming through the window let Noah see what he couldn’t last night—skin pale enough that Noah almost expected to be able to see right through it, a fine dusting of silver-blond hair, and scars that ringed his neck and each of his wrists.