“Shouldn’t you be like,‘You whore!’or something?”Mads stared Marquis down.
Marquis frowned and shook his head. “Nope. I will blatantlynotgo that route.”
“Two paths diverged…” Mads laughed. “I suppose I’m the path well-traveled.”
“You weren’t the path less traveledbeforewe mated. I never cared.” Marquis huffed. “What happened is trauma under the bridge.”
“I think it’s supposed to be water.” Mads stared at his lap.
“After everything that just happened, I’m beginning to think that the water is mostly feces, so sewage under the bridge. Let’s not cross it again.” Marquis slouched. The position seemed foreign to him, like the edge of his stiff nature hadn’t passed.
“Yeah. So. Eighty years. You and Doris have any kids?” Mads twisted his lips and tried to fight the budding tears off.
“No. Doris couldn’t have children.” Marquis fidgeted with his hands as he said it. “Something that happened when she was young…”
Mads was nosy by nature. “Spill.”
“She, um… It’s not my place to tell. But, she is passed. She made some poor decisions as a young woman and had an abortion. The process didn’t go as planned, as can happen with our kind and internal injuries…that sort of thing.”
Mads nodded sagely. Omegas knew when they were fertile. Females didn’t.
“So, I heard Damien had another after Justin only recently… Baron boasted about it, but we never found a birth record.” Marquis glanced at Mads, but he wasn’t ready for that question.
Mads tried to think. “Damien died. He couldn’t hold a child and act as a conduit for Baron. He brought home a child at some point, and I cared for him until Baron said he wasn’t a familiar.”
Every time Mads tried to think about the child, his brain drew a blank. It was as if he remembered a child being there then it wasn’t. Baron had taken him out one day and come home alone and… “I think Baron must have sold the child. He went on one of his excursions with the other omegas he carted around—though they all ended up raptured over time. Astarte Coven.”
Marquis sat up straight, eyes wide. “Do you recall what the child looked like? His name?”
“Little blond. Big, pretty blue eyes.” Mads frowned and closed his eyes. “I cannot for the life of me remember whatBaron called him. They called himomegaa lot… I wasn’t exactly fully with it. I remember being very happy there was a baby and was lonely after… Damien.”
“We found his grave and wand, you know. Where Justin lived.” Marquis kept silent, waiting for Mads to speak.
“The grave is empty, much like so many others. It wasn’t like a rapture. It… It was like his body tore itself apart. I couldn’t get clean.” Mads shuddered as he remembered. Baron had those experimental spells, trying to perfect manufactured familiars. Damien screamed and writhed, and one moment, he was whole—the next, everything was red. So red. Smelled so bad. Mads had screamed, too. He didn’t snap out of it until Baron shoved him in a cold shower, washing it all off of him. “He burned the building down after.”
“You don’t have to speak more of it if you don’t wish,” Marquis said, his voice a soft whisper.
“Talking helps. I think. So! What was Doris’s cooking like?” Mads cleared his throat.
“She burned everything she touched. We had a cafeteria at Penumbra. We simply ate there when I didn’t cook.” Marquis grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I can cook, now. That much I remember.” Mads offered a chuckle.
“I missed your cooking… Strangely enough.” Marquis cleared his throat.
“Even the tuna mold? Gelatinized food is out of style, yes?” Mads raised a brow.
“Honestly, I’d eat a thousand of those gods forsaken tuna molds if it could wind back time and undo this all.” Marquis laid his head back, reached about for a pastry, and shoved one in his mouth with ammf.
“You must really have missed me, then.” Mads chuckled.
“More than you’ll ever know.” He spoke through a mouthful of food, so unlike his stuffy nature and endless propriety.
“Think we’ll be okay, eventually?” Mads leaned back, spread his legs, and stuck his feet out. He’d lost his appetite, but being next to Marquis was enough.
“I don’t know. I came here yesterday thinking it would be closure. I’d hear why you left me. Perhaps I wasn’t as attentive to the baby, or you grew tired of my snoring—”
Mads sighed heavily, interrupting him. “I miss your snoring. I know I complained, but you were a dream compared to sleeping in the same room asthose two.”
