Page 18 of Icarus

He curled his fist into the front of Helios’s sweater, lifting him up.

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

Helios grinned. “You think you’d be the first?”

Icarus shook him crisply. “What do you want?” he hissed.

“To have someone to talk to. I can’t leave this house and I haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks.”

Icarus was so startled by that answer that he dropped Helios. Who miserably tried to pat down the wrinkle where Icarus had stretched out his sweater.

“Fine. But when we’re done here, you turn me loose.”

Drown

They sat across from each other at the storeroom entrance. Icarus’s back braced against the center shelf. His baton across his lap, knees bent to look relaxed but in optimal position to spring up and run.

“Take off your mask. I’ve already seen your face,” Helios said.

“No,” Icarus replied curtly.

Helios sighed. “Okay, whatever. So, is this like . . . your day job? Or, well, night job.”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Cool hobby . . . genuinely. Do you make the fakes? How many of them are there?”

Icarus didn’t answer. He just stared back at Helios.

Helios sighed and rubbed his temples. “Fuck me. Ugh. Okay. Let’s start with introductions.” He put his hand on his chest dramatically. “Hi, my name is Helios Black. Resident fuck-up and local prisoner of Stuart Black the second. Unable to talk to anyone, have access to a phone or computer, see any of my friends, and most importantly, leave—”

“Who is he to you, specifically?” Icarus demanded, cutting off Helios’s stupid speech. He had an idea, but he wanted to know for sure.

Helios scrunched his nose up in disgust. “My dad. But I don’t know him that well and he’s . . . extremely mean. I haven’t been back to this boring little town for over ten years. I left when I was like seven. Which is good because there is literally nothing to—”

“Why is he keeping you here?” Icarus interrupted, again.

Helios grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Because, I’m trouble,” he replied after a moment. “It’s a punishment to keep me out of more of it.” He flicked the silver cuff around his ankle and it made a sharp ping. “I like to have fun.”

A delinquent, probably.

“What do I have to give you for you to let me out? I need to go home,” Icarus said, shifting topics. “You didn’t contact the authorities last time, so you probably want something from me instead. What is it?”

Helios crossed his arms and thought for a while.

“Will you come back?” he asked.

Icarus considered lying, but seeing as this was the second time this quiet fucker had managed to catch him it was probably useless to try.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“For the art? Or is it money too?”

Icarus shook his head sharply and lied. “Just art.”

“For how long?”