March Writing Challenge: 100 Stories. 1 Month

[Cameron Osiris]

#51 – Grave

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Course mate, it’s a fucking steal,” Jared laughed, the shovel in his hand over his shoulder as they walked, “get it? Because he’s already dead?!”

Honestly, Lani didn’t have the slightest idea as to what Jared was talking about. He only agreed because he was at his wit’s end. The grave they knew had just been buried about two days ago was going to be their biggest payoff yet. And they both needed the money.

After Odion had died last summer due to brain cancer, Lani had never been the same. But he didn’t have the courage to go the same route. He was convinced Odion could somehow fool time, stay with him forever, but fate would always be stronger than time.

Now, he didn’t have anything to lose. So it was easy to get himself into trouble.

“This’ll be sweet mate,” Jared said, wiping at his forehead, leaving dirt behind. “We’ll split it half and half, as promised.” Lani didn’t speak, he only dug.

Hitting something hard, the vibrations rattled through his bones. “Got it,” Lani said, taking a deep breath and glancing at Jared who was all smiles. The brunet had grown on him, but no one could ever replace Odion. But he had promised Odion to do this, no matter what it took.

It took the both of them to hack away at the top of the casket, and by the time the top had been peeled off, they were drenched in sweat. The body had only begun to decompose, but Lani had to look away, a fist to his mouth. He couldn’t throw up. But thinking about throwing up only made him want to throw up more, so he closed his eyes, hearing Jared rummage around in the casket.

“I found it!” He said, tossing something at Lani, who caught it with his telekinesis. Smiling now, he waited for Jared to move out of the way before replacing the top.

“Good thing we’re done here, I couldn’t stand looking at his face,” Lani admitted, wrapping the gold chain around his neck, the key falling just to where his chest was.

“His mug was ugly to begin with,” Jared said, heaving the dirt back onto the casket of the man who Lani once considered a father.

Lani laughed slightly, helping Jared with the task. He couldn’t get Odion back, but he would keep his promise. They would save his brother.

[Cameron Osiris]

#82 – Elephant

“I have something for you,” Cam said, holding out the plane tickets.

“What’s all this about?” Jared asked, taking a good look at both sides.

“Remember that time we went downhill kayaking?” They both laughed, and Cam gave Jared a doe eyed look.

“That was almost a year ago,” Jared said, taking one look at the location and already getting the hint. He wasn’t so thick in the head that he wouldn’t catch Cam’s obvious drift. Especially with California written on the tickets.

“I figured once we were done kayaking, we could go surfing, and maybe cave tubing if I did everything right,” Cam said, wiggling his eyebrows at Jared’s confused expression. Jared was smiling before long. He had to wonder what the occasion was.

They had both started their first year of college together, and Cameron was excited. Jared was someone who had dealt with all the shit Cam did, and in turn, Cam dealt with all the shit Jared did. Really, it was a miracle the both of them were alive, between the extreme stupiditystunts, and the trouble Jared got himself into.

“Oh, and it’s white water,” Cam said.

“What is?”

“The kayaking. It’ll be white water.”

“Isn’t that called white water rafting or something like that? I’m not sure what you Americans call it.”

For that, Jared received a smack. “Well whatever it is, we’re doing it,” Cam said with a playful smirk. With Jared around, everyone else had been easy to forget.

“Americans,” Jared said, reaching around Cameron for a cigarette. The student lounge on campus wasn’t extremely comfortable, but it was so late, they could just take up a whole couch to themselves. One for each other them.

“You’re gonna smoke in here?” Cam asked, scratching behind his ear.

“Yeah, got a problem?” Jared asked, already lighting it up and taking a drag.

“Guess not,” Cam said, looking up at the ceiling, and playing with the lights. Jared stared at the blond for a few moments, wondering how Odion was taking the news. Cam turned to look at Jared once more. “You’re gonna meet my dad right?”

“Eventually,” Jared said nonchalantly, looking away.

“I mean, before the thirtieth,” Cam said, not leaving room for argument.

“Well the plane ticket is for the twelfth, so, yes, I suppose I’ll be meeting him before the thirtieth,” Jared replied smartly. They both laughed, as Cam had taken one of the cushions from under him to throw in Jared’s face, making him drop the cigarette. “Do you really want me burning the place down?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Cam replied. The two of them locked eyes, smiled, and for a moment everything was bliss. Until Jared decided it would be funny to pick up the cigarette off the floor and pop it into Cam’s open mouth. The blond coughed and sputtered and Jared laughed, taking it back and putting it into his own mouth once more.

Cam smirked and shook his head, “You’re lucky I’m marrying you.”

[Elliot Morrow]

#3. Futile

Jake was pacing. Before Lily, he’d liked to think he was good at handling stressful situations. His time at the compound had aided in that.

But life at the compound had not taught him how do deal with... with this.

He was waiting for Lily to come home, and wishing that Morgan was here to help with this mess. But Morgan was off at some teaching conference that Jake had only half listened to. Either way, Morgan was not here, which was not helping his stress levels.

Lily was bringing home a boy. And not just any boy. But a boyfriend. One that she had been gushing about for weeks now. She had called on her free period to inform her Daddy that yes, Jason was coming over after school, and to please be nice.

Right. Easier said than done. Jake had spent the last half of his day at work stressing out, and once he was home the stress had continued.

He needed to scare the little punk. That was what he needed to do. Because God help him if the kid broke his Lily’s heart.

From the yard Jake heard Kalen and Gambler’s excited whinnies, as well as a chorus of dogs barking. That could only mean one thing. Jake quickly stopped pacing and situated himself on the couch, doing his best to look stern. When the key turned in the lock, that expression only hardened. He was good at being intimidating. Or had been, years ago.

Fifteen year old Lily practically danced into the house, looking absolutely thrilled. “Hi Daddy!” She put her bag down and rushed over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Jason’s here!” Jake just stared up at her. There was something about her smile when she was well and truly excited about something that made him just... ugh.

This was not fair.

As she led Jason into the house, Jake stood up. He still wanted to intimidate the kid. But he didn’t want to upset Lily. So, he forced himself to slap a congenial smile on his face and offered his hand out to the teenage boy he had to... trust with his daughter. “Hello, Jason. I’m Jake.”

Lily just grinned, thrilled that her boyfriend and father were finally meeting. This was going to be great.

[Cuppy *]

12. Tea

Cale had taken his time, slowly getting the kettle out, filling it with water, boiling it. And then there was getting the cups, choosing a tea. Yet it hadn’t taken more than twenty minutes. Tops. But the process only took so long. Oh! Honey! That could buy him some time.

McKenna sat on the stool, patiently watching him. She knew becoming frustrated with her dad doing this might mean her question wouldn’t be answered. When she uttered a polite ‘no, thank you’ to his offer of any and all kinds of condiments for her tea, she internally shouted ‘finally!’ as he sat beside her. But patience, it was key when one wanted something.

Sighing, Caleb first took a long sip from his mug. He knew this day would come eventually. McKenna had had… a brief encounter with Elliot’s father as a child. She knew he existed. And she knew he wasn’t discussed. She’d come to him a handful of times before, asking about the grandfather she didn’t know. But it was complicated and Cale had promised to explain when she was older. And, well, she was in high school now. It seemed old enough to Caleb.

“Well, Gremmy, Justin is your grandfather. But he was absent. He abandoned Elliot and Grandma while she was still pregnant. He just… up a left. Dad has left a lot of animosity, a lot of anger, towards him for a very long time. And he still does.”

He paused, sipping his tea, noticing that McKenna mimicked his movements. It helped, he found, to have something to distract yourself and other when conversations were difficult or uncomfortable. Tea kept your hands busy and provided an excellent reason to take a small break from speaking.

“But, why did he leave?”

Shrugging his shoulder, Caleb smiled sadly at his daughter. “Because he wasn’t ready to be a family man from what I understand. Though that’s the poorest excuse I can think of.” With a sigh, Cale looked back to his cup. “Then, when your dad was in his twenties, well… You know how good he is with computers, he tracked Justin down. And found out some pleasant things that really hurt him.”

“Like what?” She asked without skipping a beat, eyes wide as she stared intently at Caleb.

“Like that he was happy. With a family. And actively spoke out against gay rights.”

Peeking at his daughter, she saw the deep set to her frown. McKenna, being raised by two dads, had deep beliefs about such things and would fight tooth and nail with anybody who was against them.

Reaching over, he took her hand, and squeezed it gently before continuing. “Your dad… kind of handled it. He was not entirely sober at the time, which is only one of many reasons why you should never drink in excess, and he messaged Justin about his life, his accomplishments, and that he was gay. But after that, Elliot still never heard from him. Not till that day in the park.”

Frowning, McKenna only very vaguely remembered it. It felt more like a recreated memory. Like she’d heard the story so many times she only thought she remembered. But that day, too, was something not discussed, so that couldn’t be the case. She only remembered her dad holding her tight as they rushed home.

“But it’s wasn’t so much his anger that day. I mean, part of it definitely was, but not entirely. It was about protecting you. It’s still about protecting you. As far as we know, he’s a stranger that has a habit of hurting people. And we aren’t willing to risk letting that happen.”

Now it was McKenna’s turn to give Caleb’s hand a squeeze, smiling in appreciation for more than one reason. “Thanks for finally telling me.”

[Vincent Meian]

#54: Nowhere - "Nothing/Nowhere/Nowhen"


Wherever he had gone, it was someplace very strange. There was not blackness, and there was not light. There was no grey or color or shade, no land to stand on nor air to breathe. Despite all of this, he was calm and not uncomfortable aside from a confused fascination (which was a mild curiosity, really). This space held nothing and yet seemed to have everything just at the edges of his vision, though somehow he could see everything surrounding him in all directions.

Well, as much of the "everything" there was in a place of Nothing.

How had he come to this place, anyway? His thoughts distantly reflected on something; a faded memory of pain and fire, of blood and anger. But everything was muted and soft, as if covered by a mist made of cotton, he couldn't really remember any details. It took an extraordinary effort to even remember that he was he.

Speaking of that, who was "he"?

The consciousness' thoughts drifted into a more uniform stream, and slowly the idea began coalescing. His name; his history; his loves and his journey; his memories and ideals. Each piece fell into place as the memories returned, and as they did both he and this Nothing/Nowhere/Nowhen took form. The nothing shifted into muted shades and colors, and he took the shape of a man. Bright bands of light as thin as string and thick as an arm crossing the space in haphazard lines, stretching from unseen point to unseen point as his view focused into a small cone of perspective. A sound permeated the area now, rising from nothingness to become a background hum that he only now noticed; the sound of strings at rest after a furious playing.

As he returned from the Nothing, so too did the Nothing reshape and reform. It was still Nowhere and Nowhen, but now it had some sense of direction. Of purpose. Of being.

Why was he here?

A scarred hand cupped his face, feeling the weathered skin and angled planes alike as soft, thick hair tangled in long fingers. Something tugged at his wrist as he did so, and the view shifted to it, pulling the hand from the warmth of flesh to gaze upon it. One of the infinite bands of light had encircled his wrist, no thicker than one of the hairs on his head. There was something familiar about it, as if he should know it. Maybe he did. Maybe it led him away from this Nowhere - this place beyond time and space.

Maybe it led him back home?

Taking hold of the thread gently, he looped it about his fingers, pondering its existence. Could light really thread this way? Was this all reality was? Could he make the choice to simply stay - to never know what that life he'd had before was? Would he do it? Could he? Should he?

The running of his fingers over the thread made it resonate - a high sound as clear as crystal bells and soft as a whisper. If it were not for his knowledge/intuition of this place, he doubted he could hear it. It seemed to both pulse in his hands and lie cold, asking to be taken and rejecting his presence both. The thread brought back more memories, and this time he made a choice.

The same choice he always made and never remembered.

Pulling the string taut, the consciousness flung itself back to its home reality, where upon it became a solid and real human being. A real human being in agony and wracked with fear, possessing a physical body that turned against him as he pushed himself up from the concrete. A real human being, with real memories and real emotions; with real thoughts and a real name.

Vincent Meian once more continued to exist, and he hurt.




This story is a theoretical canon based on what happens to Vincent when his powers activate.

[Christian Lucas]

57. Dream

Hamlet was Christian Alexander Lucas' favorite Shakespeare play. It captured so much in it, and while he was now too old to properly portray the young prince, he knew almost all of his lines by heart. He still read it all the time for fun, just to keep it in his mind.


Today was a bad day. He'd been feeling ill and it was a Tuesday. His students were beginning to fall behind and act up. His 'girlfriend' was throwing a fit over nothing at all. He wanted the week to be over, so he could curl up and just read. However that obviously wasn't happening.
School had let out two hours ago, and he had graded the homework. Now he was sitting alone in the auditorium, on the stage. He was exhausted, but suddenly felt the urge to talk. At first he took from a play he knew, but then he went off on his own.

"To be or not to be. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to takes arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them. To take that decision. Do you choose to accept what you have and live comfortably, or take that shot. Take that chance and maybe make the world better." He leaned back, until he was finally laying on the stage floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Do I leave now, giving up? Is it giving up if I have nothing here to hold onto? Isn't even worse if I leave before I find something here?"

Christians rolled onto his side now, his eyes still out of focus. He was thinking deep down. His deepest flaw was introspection. He saw so many flaws in himself. That's why he hid behind his characters. He was constantly trying to push those thoughts away before he fell into a depression. However days like this he couldn't help.

"Is that all I've done all my life? Run away? Hide my face and thoughts from everyone? Try and find happiness in the characters I play, because I can't find it myself? How does anyone feel happiness? Where can happiness be found?" He groaned again, finally standing up. Self-pity. It wasn't something he was proud to be experiencing, but he was and there was nothing he could do about it. Now though he had another class. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself against the upcoming day, and walked out of the theater.

[Chester Douglas]

#56 - I Know

It wasn't like he had planned it. He didn't like to plan things because it takes the fun out of being surprised by what life could bring. But the moments leading up to it seemed like it could have been a lead up to him saying it.

First with that really romantic dinner he almost butchered. He actually didn't know back then that he was already falling so deeply for her. But he had a feeling that she already knew. She always knew.

After that dinner was that hot air balloon ride they went on on a whim. She had been so cute, trying hard not to flail at how high they were. But her fingers curling up around the front of his t-shirt that by the end of the day was crumpled beyond belief told him otherwise.

A few weeks after that balloon ride had been the laser tag date night they finished off with a bang...quite literally. It had been intense. He didn't know where they found the energy to do it the whole night and the morning after that but they couldn't get their hands off each other. It was those kinds of moments where they couldn't even speak even if they wanted to.

And now this. All they had done that night was lay in bed, curling their fingers against each others, smiling and not even talking. But his heart was pounding as the night wore on and he couldn't hold it in any longer.

It was the moment after Valerie kissed Noah oh so gently on his forehead that the words came out.

"I'm in love with you."

It hadn't been any louder than a whisper but he knew she heard. She seemed to have frozen with her lips stuck on his forehead but when she looked back down, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, she smiled the smile that had captivated him in the first place.

"I know."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#21-Born

Josh stared at the contents of the shelves in thinly-veiled awe. The store was unending: dozens if aisles lined with hundreds of shelves stacked with thousands of items that went on for as far as the eye could see.

“How are there this many things available?” He asked, wide-eyed. “Is all of this even necessary?”

“Obviously not all of it,” Sean replied. He’d picked up a registry checklist on the way inside, and he held it up to examine. Many of the items comported with his own mental list, because they were basics: a bassinette, a crib, bottles and rubber nipples (although the specific number was helpful), a car seat, a changing table, diapers, a stroller, pacifiers...and the list went on. Other items didn’t apply to their situation, such as the breast pump and nursing system.

Josh looked mystified.

“Let’s start with the necessities,” Sean offered, walking slowly through the aisles. Josh kept an eye on his partner, concerned as always for the older man’s balance.

Soon enough, they were in the crib section, faced with an array of choices. Many were listed as being convertible to toddler beds down the line, although that was a mindboggling thought. They weren’t even fathers yet, and to think of their baby being old enough to use a regular bed, as opposed to a crib made Sean feel even older than he was.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Josh said as he peered at the crib that Sean had chosen to examine. Baby shopping set him ill-at-ease because it simply wasn’t done growing up, not until the baby had been born. It was considered bad luck, and while he tried not to allow himself to be ruled by superstitions – or worse, to be judged for being illogical – he couldn’t help the sinking feeling. There were reasons for certain customs, even if they couldn’t be articulated properly. The very last thing he wanted was for Sean to suffer a late-term miscarriage and to then be haunted by brand new baby items that they would never use.

The mere thought made him ill.

“I’m not going to argue about this,” the telepath replied, as he reached for the price tag on the crib; the price seemed reasonable in light of the comparison shopping he had done online before the excursion. “We’ve already been over this; I don’t feel comfortable waiting until after the birth to adapt the house.”

No cisgendered man had ever become pregnant before. Despite the rash of male pregnancies recently, Sean was still furthest along in gestation, and he had the earliest due date. Aside from requiring a C-section, nobody knew what the situation would entail: how long his recovery would be, what restrictions he would have. Thus far, both he and the baby were healthy, but there were too many unknowns to then include the additional stress of having to rush out and buy everything in order to bring their baby home from the hospital, and to have their home baby-proofed effectively. Doing so was too chaotic, and, in the present circumstance, would also involve making Josh responsible for all of that.

His same partner who panicked at the idea of Lamaze classes.

No, for Sean’s own peace of mind, he wanted to have everything in order before the C-section. Moreover, he thought it could be relaxing to buy baby items in an organized fashion; it was bonding time for Josh and himself, a way of feeling involved with their expanding family.

Then he felt pressure on his bladder.

“I need to go to the men’s room,” he whispered to the younger man, before handing him the checklist and pen. “Can you write down the model number for that crib and then meet me in the other part of the furniture section, where the changing tables are?”

“Do you want help?”

“No.” They had also discussed that many times. While Sean appreciated his partner’s attentiveness, he remained capable of relieving himself unassisted. The telepath then steadied himself against the crib before slowly walking off in the direction of the restroom.

Josh looked down at the crib and did what Sean asked of him. On the back of the paper, he copied the crib’s model number, as well as the price. On the other side of the tag was a list of recommended items, and he briefly scanned those. Most of them made sense, even if they weren’t things that he necessarily would have thought of without prompting. Like the mattress pad or whatever the sheet savers were.

Seeing a sign advertising them on a shelf, he walked over to examine them.

Those made sense.

They’d need at least one pack of those. Although all the ones he saw were pink, which bothered him. Why did every single baby item have to be gender-coded? Then he spied a green pack and he quickly grabbed those, tossing them into the basket before they could disappear.

The attorney took another minute to examine the wares in this aisle. The crib came with a mattress, and he assumed Sean probably had a preference for mattress pads. Josh wondered if the one on their bed came in crib sizes. If so, he had no reason to think they would buy another brand for their baby, since their mattress pad was so comfortable.

He peered down at the list. The bassinette was something that he couldn’t pick out without Sean’s input, even to try to save his partner the stress. Particularly since he thought that the telepath might be irritated with him over is reluctance to shop, even if Sean hadn’t said so outright.

Mobiles! He could pick one of those out.

Josh glanced around the aisle for a sign to no avail. Venturing into the next aisle, he found the appropriate section and smiled to himself. Plus, this was on the way to where the changing tables were located, so all the better; it was en route.

There were far more options than he had initially expected. Most looked similar: all involving some form of animal collection, although some were more diverse or fancier than others. Josh knew that Sean didn’t have preferences when it came to animals, since his partner bizarrely didn’t even have a favorite animal in the abstract. Bears, he supposed, although that was an inside joke. He also knew that his discomfort with animals didn’t extend to toys, given the pile of plush that was growing in the soon-to-be nursery. That gave the attorney carte blanche.

Initially nothing tickled his fancy, because they were all similar, and -as with everything else – many of the mobiles were gender-coded. Flowers and butterflies for girls, and what looked like reptiles for boys. Then he saw it.

Rabbits. White and brown bunnies, each with a little bow around its neck a different color, and a carrot in the middle. One was pink and one was purple, but there was also a green, a yellow, and a blue. Most importantly, they were rabbits.

He could tolerate pink for that.

Reaching for the box, he quickly read the battery information. It moved, as it should, and it supposedly also played music. There was some instruction there about a potential light projection too, which was fancier than he had expected. The price tag reflected that.

Then again, Josh didn’t know what was appropriate for a mobile, and he was willing to spend that much. It didn’t seem totally unreasonable, given the cost of some of the other items in the aisle.

Just as he was turning to go, Sean walked by on his way to the changing tables. “What do you have there?” The telepath inquired, trying to peer over Josh’s shoulder without leaning in too much.

The younger man held the mobile up so that his partner could see. “What do you think?”

Sean studied it for a moment, making mental note of the animal theme. Then he glanced over at Josh. “Do you like that one?”

“I do,” the attorney nodded adamantly.

“Then let’s get it.” Not only did the telepath lack a preference, but he was also simply grateful that Josh had picked out something of his own volition, without an anxious argument. Sean then held his hand out to his partner to take back the list. “Let’s go choose a changing table.”

[Aiden Harris]

Number 87. Chalk Dust

The loud screech of chalk scraping on a board sent a shiver up eight year old Aiden's spine. Without turning around, he threw the pillow next to him at the bedroom door. Why did Ellie always have to do that? She could knock or something. She didn't have to make that annoying noise. It didn't surprise him when the pillow came flying back, hitting him in the face. This time, he turned, glaring daggers at his older sister.

Mom wants you to clean the erasers was written in big letters on the small chalkboard Ellie always carried. Everyone in the house had one. It helped bridge the gap between the young deaf girl and her hearing family. Especially since all of them were at different levels of their ASL training. But there were downsides. The noise was one. The other was having to clean the erasers.

With a huff, Aiden jumped off his bed and pushed past his grinning sister. He made sure to step on her toe before sprinting towards the back porch. There'd be trouble in a few minutes, but it was worth it. He quickly gathered up the bucket of erasers they all cycled through. With a grin, he clapped them together, watching the chalk cloud form...
_____________________________________________________________

With a grin, he clapped his hands together, watching the chalk cloud form. Today was perfect. The sun was shining, with a nice breeze keeping things from getting too hot. A picturesque summer day. The prefect time for him to show Ellie up. He watched as his sister adjusted her belt, the bag of chalk hanging slightly open. You ready? he signed when he caught her attention. Last one to the top does dishes for a week. He laughed as his sister signed back in the affirmative, watching as she added a few snide comments in as well.

Ellie held up three fingers, nodding at the thirteen year old Aiden. He watched as she slowly lowered them, one by one. As soon as the last one fell, they both took off. It was a route they'd taken quite a few times. They knew every part of Purgatory like the back of their hands, from Fat Man's Misery to the Devil's Coffin. Their hands moved with practiced precision, guiding them quickly from one hold to the next.

Aiden let out an excited yell as he pulled himself over the crest of the chasm. His eyes quickly scanned for his sister's location as he sat, legs dangling. A tap on his shoulder caused his heart to suddenly sink. With a grimace, he glanced behind him, only to see Ellie standing behind him. It's about time, little bro, she signed, with a wide grin on her face. Aiden scowled slightly before his hands moved. You've got to do better than that.
_____________________________________________________________

You've got to do better than that, he signed, his face stern but calm. The students before him all fidgeted slightly as they watched him. You can't guess at answers. I'd rather you ask questions and understand the material then just guess wildly. He turned, picking up the textbook on the edge of his desk before he continued. For now, we're going to work on the practice problems on page 36. If you have a question, please let me know.

Aiden watched as a flurry of activity started. The hustle to find pens, the search for the page in the book. The few glorious, calm seconds before a chorus of hands would fly up in the air. It was amazing to think that he was once that young. Now, standing here at age thirty-six, it was almost hard to remember what it was like to be a student. Before he'd gotten a grip on his attention span. Before he'd made his dream of teaching deaf students come true.

His nostalgia was cut short as a sharp screech filled the room. A familiar chill ran up his spine as he watched the few students with partial hearing react. In his dream-like state, he hadn't noticed someone enter the room and approach the chalkboard. But even without turning, he knew who it was. A wide grin shone on his face as he turned, hands moving quickly.

God, you're annoying, he signed to Ellie. She rolled her eyes before chucking an eraser at him. The cloud of chalk dust made him cough, but it didn't stop him from tapping his students to call for attention. Class, I'd like you to meet my sister, Ellie. She'll be one of your teachers next year. His grin turned playful for a moment. Try not to be too nice to her.

[Lorelei Wuornos]

#94: Full Moon
Spring of 2012

Lorelei awoke to a startling howl but quickly realized where she was. It was a familiar place, her favorite place. It was a warm Summer's night and she'd fallen asleep just as the sun was setting. She looked down and found herself covered in a black tshirt with some kind of white design on the front and the patchwork quilt she'd brought along for the occasion. Smiling, she pulled the tshirt over her head and grabbed the quilt, wrapping it around herself as she stood. She could see rays of moonlight seeping in through the limbs of the ever growing Willow, which seemed to come alive in the night time among the warm breeze. The howl had been nothing more than an echo of the wind through the leaves.

Barefoot, she peaked out from behind the curtain of weeping limbs and gazed at the dark blue sky, the bright white stars, and the beautifully shining full moon above. A small sigh escaped her lips as she stared in jealousy at the beauty of the moon but couldn't help but to think that the evening had been planned just right. The moon gave them just enough light in the darkness, made the night somehow warmer and more magical. Out in the field two dogs rested side by side, facing away from her, as if turned toward the moon as well. At sight of them she smiled but before she could call to them she heard a whistle from behind her and turned, allowing the Willow's curtain to fall back into place, to see a man standing against the trunk of the Willow. He held a cold beer in one hand and a thermos in the other, offering out the latter to her. Her smile grew even larger and she approached him, grabbing the thermos and dropping the quilt from around her back to the soft grass where it had rested before.

"It smells great," she said as she opened the lid and took a few slow sips. Hot chocolate, fresh, soothed her throat and warmed her from the inside out. When she finished, she sat the thermos down in the earth by her feet at the foot of the tree and drew closer to him, wrapping her arms around torso and pressing her ear to his heart. He'd given her his shirt even though hers lay freely nearby and now wore only his jeans, but it was warm enough outside that it didn't matter.

"I had to jump through hoops to get that fresh," Corbin told her with an accomplished look, then took a sip of his beer. After swallowing it he leaned down, his free hand pushing her hair away so that he could kiss her. She accepted it and ignored the taste the beer had left in his mouth, enjoying his lips on hers way too much for something so minor to be a bother.

"You walked to the convenience store on the other side of the grounds, didn't you?" she asked when the kiss was done, and tossed him a devious smirk.

"Hey, walkin' is a kind of hoop," he stated matter of factly, and offered for her to sit down first on the large quilt. She took up the offer and sat down, and he followed. He leaned his back up against the tree, facing the moon, and she settled in against him, her back to his chest, and let out a pleased sigh.

"We should do this more often," a thirty-two year old Lorelei told a same-aged Corbin under the tree, grabbing the thermos for another sip of the warm beverage.

"I will never say no," he agreed with a nod, sipping from his beer and tracing his fingers over her thigh.

"You mean because of the sex," she stated with a flat tone though smiling all the white.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie and say that doesn't have something to do with it," he stated carefully, obviously choosing his words. Lorelei sat the thermos back down again and turned her body so that she was sitting sideways in his lap. She placed her hand on his face, tracing the light scars over his eyes and around his jaw line. He closed his eyes and his head tilted back somewhat, as if he hadn't felt a gentle touch in ages, and his breathing slowed somewhat as if he had relaxed. Then she moved her face beside his, their cheeks touching, and she began giving him light kisses, starting by his ear and working her way up to his lips. After a few minutes worth of kissing he pulled away, his icy blue eyes staring into her golden brown ones. "But you know that's not all."

Lorelei's smile widened and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her long brown hair cascading over his shoulders. He moved a hand up and touched the back of her head, his other arm moving around her hips, and pulled her closer to him. They held one another simply in the silence until Lorelei spoke up. "I love you Corbin, I do."

"I love you back, Lor," he said. Then his arm tightened around her and he lifted her off of his lap and rested her down on the quilt. She giggled as he pulled the tshirt up over her stomach and began kissing her already sun-kissed skin. She bit her lip as he moved down toward her hips, and then...

Then she woke up. Shot up, in her bed, her face feeling red hot.

Lorelei looked around and found herself in her dorm. It was quiet, roommates most likely asleep. The small window just above her bed had it's curtains drawn up and light was coming in. A romance novel fell from her pillow to the floor and startled her, and then finally in her realization she calmed down. But her hands touched her face, and there was no ridding herself of the awkward embarrassment she instantly felt over the dream. Corbin? Her aunts ex-boyfriend? Corbin, her friend and mentor? Corbin, her senior twenty-eight years?

Breathing heavily, she sunk back down into bed and attempted to close her eyes but the light from the moon was too bright. Squinting, she sat up and reached to pull the curtains closed when she realized that the dark blue night sky held a beautifully shining full moon.

She smacked herself in the forehead with the palm of her head, her whole body shaking, and closed the curtains all the way. Then she reached down and picked up the romance novel, closing it and sitting it on the little table beside her bed.

"I've gotta stop reading romance novels before bed, especially on a full moon." Lorelei frowned.

She calmed herself with a few deep breaths and, face still on fire, sunk down into the comfort of her bed sheets and watched the clock tick time away until finally she went back to sleep, praying to whatever Gods might exist that she didn't have a dream of such a kind ever again.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#25 – Starve

Everything he owned fit into a suitcase. Clothes, his rosary, the bottle of aspirin that he had pilfered from his father’s medicine cabinet, the money in his piggy bank, his most beloved books, a family photo, his most cherished childhood toy...

There hadn’t been room for too much, and so he’d left most of his old possessions behind, at his parents’ house. He missed a lot of his old stuff, although not half as much as he missed his family and living at home. He missed going to mass on Sunday mornings. He even missed school.

He’d lived a very stable, consistent, sheltered life before running away. Now nothing in his life was consistent, except for the ever-present gnaw in his stomach. There was no shelter to be found.

But it was necessary. He had to remember that. This was for his family, to keep them safe.

He was dangerous. He was crazy.

Life on the street was very hard.

It hadn’t been too bad at first. Which was to say that it had been warm outside. Summer had proved fairly bearable for sleeping. At first, he had found himself an isolated spot in the park, far away from the entrance and under some trees, with nice thick grass to use as a bed. It has worked for the first couple of nights, but then people kept finding him. All sorts of strange men who met under cover of darkness and were so paranoid when they found him.

He was just as afraid of them as they were of him. He was afraid they might call the police on him. The voices told him that they had the same fears, but in reverse. Sean didn’t know why they would be afraid of that, but he didn’t stick around long enough to ask.

Autumn was worse.

With the change of seasons came colorful leaves and a chill in the air that he could never escape. He’d only taken a light jacket with him, the type he used when camping with the Boy Scouts. It kept him dry enough, but it couldn’t keep him warm once the temperatures dropped at night. So sleeping outside was harder.

It was hard to find somewhere inside to sleep. He’d tried a couple of shelters, but they always asked where his parents were, and the voices told him that the adults would call the police on him. Would try to bring him back home, and it wasn’t safe for him to be there. He always ran. People rarely followed him for some reason, but it was better that way.

Finding food became harder to do, too. In the summer, so many people had picnics and barbecues; they ate outside at restaurants, and he could usually find some forgotten remnant. Or someone who might take pity on him and offer him an apple or a piece of chicken.

The cold drove everyone inside.

The Episcopalian Church nearby ran a soup kitchen. The Church didn’t have a lot of money, and so the kitchen only opened for supper each weeknight, and then occasionally for brunch on Saturday. Sunday was a wash, because it was the day of rest, and worship services caused the staff and volunteers to be elsewhere.

Sean had learned quickly that the way to remain anonymous was to keep his head down and to lie. It was easier to pretend that he had family when people only saw him for an hour instead of all night for days on end. Easier to pretend that his suitcase was his schoolbag, and his family just couldn’t afford to buy him a proper backpack.

He didn’t like to lie; it was a sin. However, he knew that part of life was to choose the lesser of two evils. It was better to lie about little things and damage only his eternal soul than it was to put his entire family in danger. Plus, he tried to use half-truths when he could. His father probably was working when he said he was, and his mother probably was busy, even if she didn’t work. He certainly didn’t have supper waiting for him at home, since he no longer had a home to which to return.

It wasn’t all bad, even when he was cold. Some of the people he met at the soup kitchen were nice to him, almost protective. Sometimes the other homeless people might salvage something for him. Sometimes the church workers gave him an extra helping of food because he was a “growing boy.” The voices told him that they felt bad for him and worried that the streets would twist him into something ugly.

Little did they know what already lurked inside of him.

Halloween was hard.

Children were everywhere, moving in and out of buildings in small groups. Dressed in costumes – historical figures, movie characters, goblins and monsters and ghosts – and with pillowcases in hand, filled with candy.

Sean didn’t have a costume. He didn’t even have a pillowcase. Instead, he had a basket that he’d found in a dumpster; it was a little frayed but mostly good, no gaping holes at least. It fit Easter egg hunts better than trick-or-treating, but it was all that he had. That and his little suitcase, which he dragged everywhere with him.

The voices told him where the old people lived. People with bad eyesight or overly generous spirits, one who wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care that he didn’t have a costume. There weren’t too many of them, and they ran out of candy so early because they were so nice and senile.

He stalked the groups, staying a fair distance behind them so they would notice him, but still close enough that the adults might think that he was just a straggler.

It didn’t work too well.

But one little brownstone housed a generous woman who should have been a grandmother. The voices told him that she’d always wanted children, but she hadn’t been blessed. Instead, she doted on the neighborhood children: baked fresh cookies and made candy apples from scratch.

She even still had a couple by the time he reached her house. She gave him the choice between a chocolate chip cookie and a caramel apple. It was tough to choose; he hadn’t had anything freshly baked since his birthday cake way back at the beginning of summer. But nobody had caramel apples outside of Halloween, and he could probably find a cookie somewhere before next October. Even if it was only an Oreo.

“I like your hobo costume,” the old woman said to him. “Did your mother help you make it?”

Sean’s hand trembled, and he was caught off-guard, not having expected the question. He didn’t answer right away, and he felt a sting behind his eyes.

The old woman spared him the obvious next question. Instead, she encouraged him to take both a cookie and an apple.

He did, and then he slunk off into the darkness before she could ask him any more questions.

Sometimes he went to the schoolyards of whatever school was closest to him that day. He couldn’t actually go inside to spend time with other children or to try to learn anything. That was one of the hardest parts: not going to school. He’d always liked school, and it felt weird to know he was falling behind. Not that he could do anything about that, except go to the library sometimes to read books there.

He liked to watch the children playing. Sometimes he would smile and wave if any of the children looked in his direction, but he always had to run and hide in case teachers came over. Teachers asked questions and might call the police. It was hard enough to hide without inviting attention.

The voices always told him to run, told him where to hide, or what to say or do to get out of trouble. The voices never steered him wrong, even if they were the reason he’d had to leave home in the first place. They treated him better than anyone else did.

They would be the only companionship he would have for the rest of his life. And he knew it.

[Odion Martins]

#89 – Ink

Dear Lani,

I know this is a little old fashioned, but I’ve heard it said somewhere that people enjoy receiving letters this way. Something about them being a little more personal or whatever. I apologize if my writing is atrocious, and my speech a little bit like ramblings because I have never done this before. It is like my thoughts have run away with me and I don’t have the wheel of time to help me retrieve them. There’s just something about earnestly writing which keeps me here, in the present.

I tried writing you a poem for Valentine’s Day, and it just didn’t work. The words wouldn’t match and the flow was all wrong, and you’ve already seen the mess that day turned my writing into. So instead, since the emotions are present, this simple letter will be my belated Valentine’s gift to you, to let you know that you are my last.

If there is such a thing as being romantic, I sincerely hope this is it. No one else before you has ever evoked my feelings this way, and yet, I’m ever glad to have never practiced this before. I’m also glad it isn’t being given on a day where being romantic is expected, because I don’t ever want to take you or what we have for granted. It’s extremely precious to me, so priceless in fact that I’m not sure what I would do without it, and this is both scary and enlightening to me.

Never before have I trusted someone so deeply, and you’ve made me believe in love again. You’re with me no matter what I do, even if you’ll never understand exactly what that means, just know that it’s a comfort. You challenge me in a way I would never expect, and this keeps things interesting to say the least. We have our squabbles, but I’m beginning to think this is normal between those who are in love. I cherish every moment spent with you, and there is no other like you. If forever were a possibility, I would do my damndest to attain it.

Your last,
Odion

[Kali Caraway]

90. Perfection.

She was starving. Her legs hurt; ever since Brandy, she couldn't stand to wear high heels anymore. She couldn't remember the last night she slept more than four hours. She was stressed. She was congested. She wanted to quit.

She didn't want to be a mother anymore. Brandy was darling, but she couldn't do it anymore. She was almost a year old, could walk on her own-- she got into everything--, and still didn't sleep through the night. Kali still had to go and work. She owned the place, it was hers she couldn't not be there. What if a band wanted to reserve her stage for a Friday night? She needed to be there. She knew the schedules, she could pick out the talent just by looking at the person. She knew how to deal with the bad customers and she knew how she wanted the place to be ran.

So she had to be there to do that. Sure, she trusted her workers their to do their jobs, but that didn't mean she didn't need to be there to do hers. Kali had a daycare for Brandy so she could, during the day, but at night....Brandy wouldn't sleep. She would cry, she would try to get out of her crib, she would throw her blankets and pillows out onto the floor. Some nights, she would sleep if Kali held her all night, but that wasn't a habit Kali could afford to give her.

She blew out a deep breath, and had to inhale to draw snot back into her head.

She knew very well she couldn't quit being a mother. She loved Brandy more than she could even describe and wanted absolutely everything for her, but her nerves were sore and exposed these days. She had no energy. She needed a break, or something.

Speaking of, the baby monitor erupted in the baby blood curdling cry. She achingly pulled herself up to standing and shuffled through her cozy house and into Brandy's room, decorated with white and purple animals and furniture and the like. Kali hated the cliched pink and blue. She wasn't going to raise Brandy thinking she was gender specific--maybe she was thinking more this way because she knew her 'favorite' brother Sam spent his days more in the company of men...

She picked her crying baby out of the crib, her dark hair smoothed to her round head, tear tracks running down her face. She kissed her on the head and bounced her a little. She knew she wasn't hungry and checked her diaper. It was fine. She sighed deeply and went back into the living room, and sat down. Brandy slowly quieted and wrapped her little arms around her mother.

A tear found itself running down Kali's cheek and she wiped it away. She felt a grin spread on her face.

It was stupid little things like that, like Brandy giving her a little baby hug or stopping crying when she was in the same room as her that made Kali's heart hurt. Brandy knew who she was. Brandy loved her with her baby heart and mind. She needed her.

Brandy was perfect, and Kali was perfect for her. She snuggled against her baby and leaned into the crook of the couch, between the arm and the back and closed her eyes. Brandy stilled quickly, sleeping, and Kali eventually found sleep herself.

She wouldn't change Brandy. Not for anything.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#71 – Morgue

Past midnight during the cusp of winter. The temperature had dropped to a fraction of that day’s warmth. Fingerless gloves did nothing to protect his hands, and the night air chilled him to the bone. Despite himself, he began to shiver. He pursed his lips to stifle any sounds, but that did nothing for the chill itself.

Robert looked at him, and a moment later, wrapped his coat around his shoulders. We need to buy you some thermal underwear, his mental voice concluded. That would be a project for the morning, when they were no longer camped out in a cemetery.

Sean nodded gratefully but said nothing. It was important to be particularly careful when on stakeouts in enemy territory. Creatures of the night could overhear them so easily; that was why psychic potential was an asset. That was why Robert had chosen him of all people to be his apprentice.

The rustling of movement caused Robert to press up against the wall. Sean followed suit, crouching low to render himself practically invisible. Or as close to it as was possible given the prey they were stalking. It was difficult – although not impossible – to get the drop on the supernatural. Robert spent a lot of time outlining this for the young hunter-in-training, and Sean took copious mental notes.

The door to the tomb opened, and in stepped a large man, shuffling at a snail’s pace. Slung over his shoulder was an unconscious woman, and, with minimal care, set her down on a stone slab. The woman was still breathing, albeit slowly and weakly. The man, who Sean recognized as the local mortician, stood beside her, almost as in trance. He simply waited, and it was eerie and wrong.

However, Sean didn’t make a sound because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself or to Robert.

The woman on the slab continued to breathe her slow, shallow breaths. Neither Sean nor Robert had a watch because some creatures had senses so keen that they could hear the subtle ticking of the device. As such, the boy didn’t know how long they waited in silence.

Then, almost out of nowhere, another woman just melted from the shadows. Pale and focused, dark hair and red eyes that glowed in the night, she approached the slab and paid almost no attention to the mortician. Nothing beyond a “Good job pet,” to which the mortician responded with a slurred “Thank you, Mistress.”

That was also eerie and wrong. Robert always stressed the importance of equality, even if Sean was only a hunter-in-training, an apprentice. His mentor insisted on calling one another by their first names for that reason.

But that was just another problem of many with vampires and ghouls; they were caught up in their power structures and egos.

The vampiress circled the woman on the table, her fangs glistened in the moonlight that slipped through the cracks in the stone walls.

Just as she leaned in to taste her prey, Robert gave Sean a signal to lay low and pay attention. The boy did.

Then, his mentor stepped out from the shadows and drew his crossbow. “Step away from her.”

The vampiress hissed and gave a direction to the mortician to protect her. He did, shuffling forward to provide a barrier between the hunter and his mistress, before lunging at Robert.

The experienced hunter let his crossbow drop, falling along its strap to his back. Quickly, he grabbed the mortician by the shoulders, hefted him with the strength that came from decades of practice to remain in peak physical condition, and tossed him unceremoniously across the tomb into a wall. Headfirst, with an audible crack.The collision caused the mortician to hit the ground and pass out cold.

Sean watched wide-eyed, inwardly wincing because that had to hurt.

Without missing a beat, Robert lifted his crossbow again, closing the distance between himself and the vampiress. She had failed to heed his warning, instead returning to bite the woman. Her fangs sank into the woman’s flesh, and the hunter pressed the trigger on his crossbow. The arrow sailed with perfect aim, hitting its target: her heart.

The vampire wailed in agony, contorting in pain, before she fell to the floor. A few seconds later, and all that remained of her was a pile of ash and the fetid odor of death.

The woman on the slab began to groan softly, and Robert went immediately to her side. Projecting to Sean, he instructed, It’s safe to come out now.

The boy did. Rising from the shadows with singular purpose, he didn’t even turn to look at the mortician’s body in the corner. Although he was curious to see if he was still alive.

“You’re safe now,” Robert assured the woman, reaching out with one hand to steady her shoulder. He gave her a quick once-over, and then said, “My son and I can take you home. Or we can take you to the hospital if you want medical attention.”

The woman pressed her hand to her neck, the site of the bite and the cause of her pain. She was still disoriented, but her fingers came away without blood on them. “I...I think I just want to go home.”

“That’s fine,” the hunter told her with a gentle smile. “I’ll be happy to drive you home. Do you need help walking?”

“I’m not sure.”

Robert gave Sean a mental nudge, which the boy took immediately. Stepping forward, he offered the woman his hand. “I can help,” he said. “My name’s Sean.”

“Show her to the van. I’ll be right with you.” Robert then turned away from the table, crossing the tomb to the corner where the mortician lay in a heap. The hunter leaned down, and then hefted the mortician’s body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. They might not have to go to the hospital for the young woman, but from touch and telepathy, he knew the mortician was still alive. He needed the medical attention, since he was as much a victim as the woman was. Used for his position. As was so common among the supernatural, picking out people who performed vital human services.

That was one of the many reasons he dedicated his life to stopping them.

The hunter exited the tomb to catch up with the other two ahead of him. Despite the chill of the night air, he felt warm. That was the adrenaline. It was for the best, since Sean still had his coat.

[Caleb Green]

16. Fight

When Caleb had returned home that night and seen Elliot’s hand, he’d immediately been worried. Panic striking hard and fast. But ever since McKenna had come into their lives, he’d perfected the ability to keep certain things from showing in his demeanor and on his face. He thought that Elliot might be able to pick up on it though. Maybe if the circumstances been different, had Elliot not just seen his father, then he would have seen the concern that Cale had tried to keep hidden.

Caleb understood how his husband was so greatly affected by a person he didn’t even know. He had soothed Elliot a number of times when it came to anything regarding the man whose only impact on Ell’s life had been the fact that he was a name on a piece of paper declaring him a father. And he’d always let Elliot deal with however he saw fit, however he needed to deal with it. Caleb simply offered him words of understanding, a tight hug, and a gentle hand.

But this time? This time would be different. Not only had the man somehow found out where they lived, but also had the audacity to approach Elliot and McKenna. As if he thought that was acceptable. And Cale wasn’t simply going to allow that to happen.

With McKenna asleep and Elliot, though it took a hot shower, a few aspirin, and much encouraging from Caleb, just having drifted off, the older man slipped out of their home.

Now, he wasn’t technologically savvy like his husband. But he had his ways. Of course, Caleb’s ways included calling his mother-in-law, telling her what happened, and, as much as he hated it, lying to her. But he wasn’t above it. Never had been and never will be. Not when it came to protecting his family. He knew that Lauren had always hoped that maybe one day Elliot could move past his anger and resentment and accept Justin as his father. And Cale played on that, expressing his hope in attempting to work something out.

It was only too easy to convince her to call Justin and find out that he was staying in a motel a few miles from home.

Caleb almost felt guilty when Lauren wished him good luck. Almost.

When he arrived at motel, he questioned if this was a good idea, him being here. This man was a stranger to him. Somebody he’d never had any interaction with, just second hand stories. But no. He’d hurt Elliot. More than anybody could imagine. And he’d tracked them down, Caleb’s family. He’d terrified McKenna.

Attempting to not draw notice to himself, he simply strolled to the room as if it were his own. Before knocking, Caleb pulled a tube of lip Vaseline from his pocket, squeezed some out, and smeared it onto the peephole to blur what the man might see. There was fumbling around in the room after he’d knocked. A stumble, a bumped table, a swear. “Who is it?” A groggy voice asked.

“Sir, it’s management. We’ve received a complaint. If you don’t mind, I’d like to step inside, and speak to you.”

Waking up more at the thought somebody complained, there was muttering and more swearing as the door edged it’s way open. “A complaint? Who the com-” Justin, taking in Caleb’s attire, came to an obvious realization. “You’re not manag-”

Caleb shoved the door open hard, pushing Justin back and onto the floor. When inside, he quietly shut the door, locking it behind him. Turning around, he almost scoffed at the sight. Justin hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed on the floor, staring wide-eyed. He could at least give Caleb the pleasure of fighting back. But if he wanted to make this easy… Bending over, Cale grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him up, pushing him against a wall.

Justin, in shock, hurried to stand as well. Hoping to lessen the pain. “I swear to god, I don’t have money! Nothing of value! Jesus Chri-”

“Shut up. Shut the hell up or you’re going to make this a lot worse.” Caleb said, despite having clamped a hand over Justin’s mouth to prevent more yelling. “I’m not robbing you, so just shut your damn mouth.”

The set of Caleb jaw, his lips pressed in an angry line, the wild look in his eyes… It terrified Justin. But he took in his attackers words and nodded his understanding.

“Good.” Moving his hand from Justin’s mouth, it found a new home. Caleb’s fingers laid gently on the side of Justin’s neck, while his thumb pressed lightly on his windpipe. Not hard enough to hinder his breathing, but just enough to be threatening of the damage that could be done. A sneer crept onto Cale’s face when Elliot’s father began breathing erratically on his own. “Now, you listen to me. You will not come here again. You will not attempt to see Elliot or make any contact with him again.” Caleb allowed his thumb to press slightly harder against his father-in-law’s throat, much to Justin’s alarm. “You will have no relationship with that little girl. Do I make myself perfectly clear… Dad?”

Chargin was clear on Justin’s face as he realized who exactly this person in front of him was. His bias settling in, he scowled as best as he could. He failed miserably at striking an intimidating look, more concerned with his ability to breathe. His attempts to shove Caleb away were only met his son-in-law tightening his grip, briefly cutting off his air supply, only to loosen it again.

The fear in Justin’s eyes led Cale to think that this had been the right thing to do. He and his family wouldn’t have to worry about this man making an appearance in his life again. Not if he valued his life.

“You’re going to leave. Tonight. And not ever come back here. I don’t care if it’s for a wedding. I don’t care if Lauren begs you to come for a visit. You’re not ever coming back.” Releasing the man’s neck, he laid his upon his cheek with a hard enough smack to make it sting. “Have a good night.”

Leaving a stunned and terrified man in his room filled Caleb with a sort of… relief. His family was safe again, they wouldn’t be bothered. Not by him at least. Though, he did forget how exhausting promising threats and filling people with fear could be. By the time he returned home, all he wanted was to curl up beside Elliot and fall asleep.

But as he walked into their room and to their bed in darkness, he heard Elliot’s voice. “What did you do?”

After a moment, Caleb laid beside him. “Nothing.”

“Caleb.” His husband’s voice took on a warning tone that said he wouldn’t be lied to.

“I took care of it.”

“How?”

“You don’t need to worry about it.” He promised, wrapping an arm around Elliot’s waist. “It’s over and he won’t be bothering us again.”