Page 27

“Just let me shower. I still smell like the kitchen.”

Adam settled onto their bed as Vic turned on the water. He lit a candle and placed it on the nightstand.

To light our way, he thought.

This wouldn’t be like their last trip together. While it had also been in search of information, it had been fun, almost a date.

Vic emerged from the bathroom, steam wafting around him.

Whatever problems Adam was having had nothing to do with a lack of desire.

He was only a little disappointed when Vic pulled on some boxers and a black undershirt, covering what Adam never got tired of seeing.

A little smirk curled the corner of Vic’s mouth.

“What position are you thinking?” he asked.

Adam gave a fake sigh at the innuendo and lay back in the center of the bed. He turned to his side and bent his knees.

“Spoon me, like we’re riding a horse.”

Vic stretched out behind him and put his hands on Adam’s hips. The touch was just right, not possessive or insistent, and for the moment at least, thankfully, the memories kept their distance.

Vic smelled of his shower gel, burned citrus and a hint of sandalwood. Adam focused on the candle. He held Seamus’s nickel out before him, cupped in his hand like a compass.

“Close your eyes,” Adam said.

Vic didn’t say anything, but he tightened his grip just a little. The damp strands of his hair tickled the top of Adam’s head.

Adam stared at the candle through his closed eyes and let the red, flickering glow lead them away from the mortal world.

This, pulling Vic along on a spirit walk, was easier than he expected. The connection between them was strong enough that Vic was like a part of him. It reassured Adam that they’d be all right. He could feel something else in the mix, his sword, the one he wasn’t allowed to carry.

The weapon was bonded to him, and it hadn’t forgotten him. He could feel it out there, waiting for the day when he’d call it to him again. The first time, it had found him even through someone else’s wards. It had appeared in his hand when he’d most needed it, and he’d run a man through.

To call it now would be to defy Silver, which wasn’t something Adam would do lightly. He was in enough hot water, and calling attention to what he was doing—contacting Jack on the down low, doing a job for Seamus—wasn’t going to make things better for him at court.

Adam pushed the memory of the last time aside. They were coming in peace, and his last thought before they arrived in the west shouldn’t be of violence.

He opened his eyes and found the grass at his feet scraggly and unwell, typical for plants in the emerald twilight.

Beside him, Vic took it in.

The western watchtower, a blocky building looking more like a military structure than a mausoleum, glowed slightly golden nearby.

The mortal streets in this neighborhood were lined with houses and trees. The neighborhood was old. It contrasted with all the new development rising across the city in an attempt to fix the housing shortage or capitalize on the value of the land.

In the spirit realm the buildings were more dramatic. The houses were massive tree stumps, their interiors hollowed out. Windows had been carved here or there, and they glowed with warm candlelight.

This world was many things, a chaotic land of wonders and horrors. It was also home to many beings, most of whom he had yet to meet.

“Are we going to stay in our underwear?” Vic waved a hand down at his body. “Or are you going to cast a glamour?”

While Adam would never complain about the view, Vic had a point. He drew his hands together and moved his fingers in a weaving motion as he pulled them apart.

The spirit realm was as much a place of dreams and imagination as it was a world. Adam could, to a very small extent, change it, at least for a while.

He let his magic rise and poured it into the ball of imaginary threads he’d strung together.