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If they were here, Gavriil would be holding up a thing, and prattling away. I used to think he was detailing the torture his thing would do. Nico would shudder and make appropriate ew sounds, while commenting about how much pain there would be.
Now I know it was all an act.
Gavriil could have been reciting Shakespeare, or some Russian equivalent, and Nico acted his little psychopathic heart out.
"I'm going to remove a finger every hour until you tell me who wanted Nico dead, or how to contact this woman go-between. When I run out of fingers, I'll take your toes. That should be long enough for Gavriil to come up with a plan for you."
I walk slowly away, waving at the men waiting to put these men back into the storage room where Gavriil had the cages fitted, and trying to hide how badly I want to get back to my boy and my little con artist. That little fuck, AKA Nico has been playing me since the start, and someone is going to get a spanking. And by someone, I mean Porter.
Chapter twenty-one
Nico
Mymorningisboring,drifting between dozing in Porter's arms and drinking jelly. But there is nowhere I'd rather be. I've never been so wanted by another person. Porter probably had lots of other things he could be doing, but he is happy just sitting here with me, refilling my cup every thirty minutes. It's disappointing to take just over twenty minutes to drink the thick fluid, and I'm barely settled before the alarm beeps again. My stomach is feeling better after each drink, which is making it easier to rest. Resting isn't something that comes naturally to me. Gavriil called me a freak for it, and that there was something wrong with me, but I just called it being active. My mind or my body had to be doing something, it's one reason why TV never appealed to me, even when Gavriil put something on that wasn't what he called porn.
Lacking the energy to move is a nice change, but watching TV is still just as boring. Porter has some kind of farmyard cartoon on the television, with ducks, rabbits, pigs and such running across the screen, but the strange pitch to the voices makes them hard to follow. Porter chuckles occasionally, usually when one animal character hits another, but the consequences for the abuse don't make sense when the attacking character then runs away before finishing the job.
The bright colours dancing across the screen does nothing to keep me awake. Porter is actively encouraging me to lean against him. It reminds me of my mum, when I used to lean in against her in the evenings.
His soft, steady breaths are relaxing, and the gentle thump of his heart is like a lullaby to my sleepy mind. I could lie here all day like this without needing anything more. It would be better if I didn't have to wake up to drink, but I'm the kind of guy who counts blessings, not desires. I have a roof over my head, I am comfortable. I have Porter and nothing can compare to that.
"Boys?" Gladys calls. "Wake up boys, the doctor is here."
Porter moves under me, but I don’t want to. Waking up every half an hour is exhausting. Pretending I'm asleep is easy.
"Have you been feeding him regularly?" Michael sounds as stern as he did this morning.
"Yes, Sir," Porter swears.
It felt like he was waking me as quickly as I fell asleep, and I drank everything for him. Who could say they were full with those begging eyes staring at me. He deserves some praise for that.
"How is it feeling in your stomach now?"
"Uh." Only I can answer that, which means it is time to open my eyes. "Better than in night."
"Well, boy. Let's see if that gut of yours is in order."
Freddie and Michael lift me up and we take a walk. I'm deposited rather undignified on the toilet and abandoned to do my business in peace. I didn’t feel like I needed to go, but now I'm here, I'll give it a try.
When they bring me back, the joy of my success instantly transfers to Porter. Success!
"Everything working in order?" Porter beams at me as my bodily functions become a subject of celebration. Things seem to be working, and everyone is happy.
"It is working. In order," I grin, uncertain about the order he means. I have never seen so many people happy at the news of my bathroom adventures. It's a bit embarrassing, but who can hold a frown with so much cheer?
"There you go, young man, you're going to pull through." Michael claps me on the shoulder.
I was not under the impression there was any other option, but our living room sleepover makes more sense now. Knox and Porter sat up all night nursing me because I was sicker than I realised.
"I am a such idiot." I'm glad to be sitting, my knees wouldn't take me even if I were fighting fit.
"You're not." Porter sits beside me, taking my hand in both of his.
"You were trying to save my life and I only cared what it cost me." That isn't what normal people do, and I try so hard to be like normal people.
"You aren't used to anyone being nice to you without wanting anything in return." Porter sounds like he understands. People aren't nice to anyone without a reason. Porter wouldn't have this nice life in the big rich house if he didn’t do something for Knox. I can only imagine what he gives Knox to have such sway over the slayer.
"In this family, no one does anything without wanting something in return." Michael tells him the truth. Maybe at the top where Knox and Porter live they can afford a little kindness, but right at the bottom where I exist, favours aren't free.
