Page 68 of Housesitter

“It’ll take more than this—” he snarled through the muzzle. Before he could finish the thought, Shepherd stuck his foot out and tripped him.

Hooves weren’t great for balance.

Easy windmilled his arms as he staggered on the precipice. “You’re my blood,” he reminded Kel desperately. “You can’t let me die.”

“I won’t,” Kel said as he scrambled to his feet. He stepped forward and shoved Easy into the pit. Then he turned his back on him instead of watching.

Easy laughed as he fell.

Chapter Sixteen

Hell House Client Brief: The bathroom door on the second floor locks from the inside. Don't fix it.

Kel dragged Shepherd into a rough, desperate hug. Then he pushed him back a step, cupped his face in both hands, and searched it intently.

“Are you OK?” he asked. It hurt to talk. His throat felt blistered, half-cooked, and he sounded like he’d somehow crammed a thirty-year, pack-a-day habit into the last twenty minutes. He could taste the remnants of the smoke in the back of his throat, like gasoline and burnt roast pork.

“I’m OK,” Shepherd said.

Kel raised his eyebrows and grazed his thumb over Shepherd’s mouth.

“I thought you said you were a good liar?”

Shepherd just snorted. He leaned into Kel, head on his shoulder and arms wrapped tight around him. Kel let his hands slide over Shepherd’s shoulders and down the lean span of his bare back. He tipped his head down to press a kiss against the crown of Shepherd’s head and breathed in the scent of him, still green under the burned-grease stink of Easy’s piss.

The reminder of that made Kel move his hands. He wiped them on his shirt as he stepped away from Shepherd.

“So,” he said. “Is that it? I rejected Hell. Was that enough to get me out of the deal?”

Someone laughed. It came from beneath them.

Kel and Shepherd traded looks and stepped up to the edge of the pit to look down. The shadows had drawn back to the walls in cowed clots, clinging to the bricks and burrowed into cracks. Kel could see nearly all the way down to where it should have stopped, only for it to plunge further down into unfathomable blackness…where something red winked up at them.

…and it was getting closer.

As Kel watched, the darkness resolved into…technically, he supposed it was Easy. Just an Easy crowned with horns that scraped against the sides of the well as he climbed, gouging deep, raw stone channels into the brick. Bloody stubs, raw bone and loose tendon, jutted from shoulders that rippled with unnatural muscles as Easy reached up and dug his claws into the cracks between the bricks.

The shadows scurried out of his way.

Easy grunted as he hauled himself up another foot and tipped his head back, as much as he could with his horns in the way, to look up at them. His mouth was still mangled, but when he smiled it showed fangs.

“It’s a long way down,” he said. “But I crawled out once. Did you think I couldn’t do it again?”

Below him, something rustled. It was an unassuming sound, but something about the sound of rattling stalks made Kel shudder. The chill of it ran down his back and puckered his asshole with the fear of…

Whatever made corn rustle in the dark. Apparently his nervous system didn’t need to know more than that to be terrified.

It seemed to worry Easy too, who looked down and climbed faster.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kel said. “What do we have to do to get rid of him, get my dad to turn up and ask for back child support?”

Shepherd gave an unwilling snort of laughter at that. He stepped back and looked around for his shorts.

“No,” he said. “We have to close the gate.”

He dragged the cargo shorts on. Despite everything, Kel caught himself cocking his head to the side to admire Shepherd’s ass.

Not the time, he told himself as he tried to get his brain back on track. Although, that said, if this didn’t go well—and so fucking little in his life did—at least he’d take a good memory of Shepherd’s ass to Hell with him.