Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (10 page)

He ignored it.

He tried.

He closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes.

Lose something, Charlie?
he thought.

He had. He had lost many things.

His family. His mind. His soul.

The bees laughed and said,
Do you trust me now?
He didn’t know whose bees they were. He didn’t know if it mattered anymore.

He made sure Bad Dog was covered in the blanket. He scratched behind the dog’s ear. Bad Dog huffed quietly in his sleep.

He stood. Looked above him. Shadows moved. Clever little monster. Clever little cannibal.

He left his gun. He left his bow.

He took his knife.

Just as a precaution.

The stairs creaked under his weight. He didn’t think they’d support much more for very long. He wondered if Grangeville used this barn. Except they were all dead now. They wouldn’t have a use for it anymore.

The moonlight flashed across his face between the slats of the wood. His breath trailed behind him.

He reached the top of the stairs. It was dark. He closed his eyes. Gripped the knife. Opened his eyes. They adjusted.

He could make out rotting bales of hay. Piles of wood. Piles of brick. A scarecrow, ancient and ugly off in the corner. The wind blew. The scarecrow waved at him.

“Lucas,” he said in a low voice.

No response. But how could there be? This clever little monster, this clever little cannibal no longer had a voice.

Cavalo waited, listening for any sound.

Lose something, Charlie?

Do you trust me now?

He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

He took a step into the hayloft.

My most immemorial year
, he thought.

He took another step and remembered the starving bear with the hooks for claws.

He took another step and remembered the coyotes covered in tumors.

He took another step and remembered the look on Lucas’s face with the knife coming down again and again.

Withering and sere.

When it happened, it was quick. The second before the knife came to his throat, he realized he was being hunted. The bees were electrified at the scrape of cold steel. A body pressed up against him.

Familiar, this. From when they’d first met in the haunted woods.

The knife bit into his throat. The smallest of cuts.

“He’ll smell the blood,” Cavalo said quietly. “Bad Dog.”

The knife froze. A breath near his ear. A sigh.

The knife pulled away. Lucas took a step back.

Cavalo turned.

Lucas scowled at the floor. Half of his mask had been scrubbed away, leaving dark streaks down his cheeks. Dried blood in patches on his arms. His hands. His fingers.

“Lucas.”

Defiant eyes. The knife at his side.

“You….” Cavalo struggled for words. “Those people. The Dead Rabbits.”

Yes.

“You killed them.”

Yes.

“Why?”

A snarl.
Fuck you. Fuck you.

“I….”

You did this.

“Did what?”

Gestured between the two of them. Back at himself.
Made me this way. Made me bleed. Out in the open. I bled in shadows. You took that away from me.
He gripped the sides of his head as if trying to block out all sound. The flat of the blade pressed against his scalp.

“The bees.”

A savage look.
Yes! Yes! Your fucking bees! Yes, the goddamn bees! Yes, you asshole! You bastard.
He paced in a small circle, holding his head, his face stretching into a grimace.

“Lucas.”

Fuck you. Kill you. Stab you. Eat you.

“Lucas.”

Break you. Smash you. Fuck you. Cut you.

Lucas fell to his knees, his mouth open in a silent scream. He dropped his hands to his sides, the knife clattering on the floor. He threw his head back and screamed again. Though Lucas could make no sound, Cavalo heard the scream in his head. It was filled with rage and fury, despair and sorrow. Cavalo had never heard a sound like it before.

He took a stuttering step forward. Stood above Lucas. With the knife in his hand, he pulled Lucas’s head to his stomach and held him there. Lucas beat against his back with his fists. Tried to scratch him through his coat. Tried to bite the flesh of his stomach. Cavalo held on, gripping as tightly as he could. He knew if Lucas tried to jerk away, his neck would break or the knife would slip into his throat. Either way, it would be over for him.

He was giving him a choice.

Lucas fought.

Cavalo knew the bruises that would bloom purple and black on his back by morning.

The only sounds were the fists. The sharp breaths.

Eventually Lucas made his choice.

His hands gripped Cavalo’s back. He breathed heavily into his stomach.

Cavalo let him.

They stayed that way as the moon came out again. As the light flickered over them before disappearing again. As Bad Dog dreamed below. As the ghosts of a lost world spun silently in the dark space above the world. In the history of everything, they were nothing but dust.

But still they held.

Eventually Lucas lifted his head. Looked up at Cavalo. The black mask had smeared across his face.

There was a small hole in the loft, near the far corner. Snow had accumulated here, blown in by the wind. Cavalo let Lucas go and walked over to the hole, scooping up the snow in his hand. He brought it to Lucas’s face, the snow melting to water. The mask rubbed away. The dried blood rubbed away. It wasn’t perfect. When he finished, there were still flecks of blood, smudges from the mask.

They watched each other.

Lose something, Charlie
? Cavalo thought again. He could see the question in Lucas’s eyes.

Do you trust me now?

“You killed them,” he said softly.

Yes.

“Why?”

The scowl returned. It looked strange on this young face free of mask and blood. If it weren’t for the eyes, Cavalo would not have believed such a face could look so angry. But the eyes were filled with rage, and Cavalo thought he could see bees moving behind them.
Stupid question
, Lucas said.

He gripped Lucas’s face tighter. He knew his fingers were biting into his jaw. He gave Lucas’s face a little shake. “Why?”

Because I hated them.

“And that’s it?”

It’s enough.

“Do you trust me?”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. Cavalo did not miss him picking his knife up from the floor.
No
, Lucas said.
No. No. No.

“You are a monster.”

Fury.

“You are a cannibal.”

Rage. Tightened grip on the knife.

“And you killed them. To save us.”

The anger was like a storm. This close, Cavalo could feel the bees vibrating in Lucas’s head.
Yes. Goddamn you. Yes. Yes. They were trying to hurt you. They were trying to take you away. Yes. I killed them. And I would do it again. I would kill anyone who tried to take you away. And I will kill you if you ever leave.

Cavalo kissed him then, hand still gripping his face. He felt Lucas’s knife come to his stomach, but it was a warning. A precaution. Lucas did not stab him, and when his lips parted, their teeth knocked together until Cavalo angled his head. Lucas exhaled into his mouth, and Cavalo took him in, and in that breath, he could taste the lives of all that had come before. The pain and the anguish. The black mask of death.

The bees told him to kill the boy while he was on his knees. To break his neck and take his skin to SIRS to preserve it until they got the other half. To leave him behind until he was nothing but a memory that only came when the bees parted their stingers late at night.

He gripped Lucas’s face tighter. He knew there would be marks there later from his fingers. This sent the bees away.

And when he felt Lucas’s tongue in his mouth, his fingers on Cavalo’s zipper, he wondered if this was the final step toward his damnation.

He couldn’t find a single reason to care. Regret could come later. It always did.

When his skin became exposed, he sucked in a deep breath against the cold air. An even colder hand circled his cock, and he groaned as the hand squeezed. Lucas bit into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood before breaking away. Cavalo could taste copper in his mouth. He licked it away.

The knife pressed against his stomach as Lucas swallowed the head of his dick, hollowing his cheeks. The sudden heat surrounded by the chill caused Cavalo to groan quietly. His hand went to the back of Lucas’s head, gripping the shorn scalp. He thrust into Lucas’s mouth. There were too many teeth. Too much spit. Lucas gagged, and Cavalo started to pull away. Lucas wouldn’t let him. He went down again, and when his nose brushed against the skin of Cavalo’s stomach, Cavalo said, “Lucas,” in a rough voice. Those dark eyes found his again, and while there was still anger there, rage and fury mixed as one, there was something else. Heat. Fire. A storm of bees.

Eventually Lucas’s throat opened up, and Cavalo was able to fuck his face with the snap of his hips. He felt the scrape of teeth again and thought briefly of standing in a lost cave in front of a bear with nails for teeth and hooks for claws. This was dangerous.

But he did not stop.

Lucas seemed to know when he was getting close. He pulled away, spit dribbling past his swollen lips onto his chin. He looked up at Cavalo again, and the fire became something more. Lucas stood slowly, dragging the knife up Cavalo’s torso until it came to his neck. He kissed Cavalo then, his eyes never closing. Cavalo could taste himself on Lucas’s tongue. The tang of salt and skin. The blood from his split lip.

Lucas broke the kiss. Cavalo could feel the scrape of knife against his throat. Could see the red marks against Lucas’s cheeks from his fingers. His cock throbbed between them. He ground up against Lucas and felt an answering hardness. He reached down between them and palmed Lucas’s dick. Lucas’s eyes fluttered slightly and he licked his lips, attempting to chase the taste.

Lucas stepped away. The cold air assaulted Cavalo. He held the knife to Cavalo’s throat at arm’s length, his back resting against a wooden beam. He took a breath and let it out. Another. And another. With his free hand, he reached down and unfastened his pants. Cavalo recognized them as an old pair of his own. He’d given them to Lucas weeks before as Lucas hadn’t come with much besides the knife.

In fact, everything he wore belonged to Cavalo. The clothes on his back. The marks on his defiant face.

Do you trust me now?
the bees screamed.
Lose something, Charlie?

Cavalo thought he might have. Common sense, to start. His mind. Sense of survival. He knew this would only end badly. It was the only way.

The pants were undone. As Cavalo watched, Lucas spit into his hand, slicking his fingers, keeping the knife against Cavalo’s throat. Instead of reaching for his dick, his hand went behind him, reaching down the back of his pants. The blade pressed harder against Cavalo’s neck as the hand behind him moved back and forth.

“That’s what you want?” Cavalo asked. He tried not to think of the experienced twist of Lucas’s talented hand. It would bring questions that he did not want to ask.

The glare returned.
Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Kill me. Break me.

“It’s going to hurt.”

Yes. Good. Let it.

“We can wait. Until we get some oil.” His voice was rough. Almost angry.

No. No.
The knife nicked him. The smallest of cuts.

“I am not Patrick.”

Instead of the anger he expected, Lucas seemed to laugh at him.
Oh? That’s what you think this is?

Pet. Psycho fucking bulldog.

“Fine, then,” Cavalo snarled. He spit into his own hand. “Make yourself wetter. Do it now.” He rubbed the spit onto the head of his dick. He spit again and coated the shaft.

He pushed up against the knife, daring Lucas to cut him further. For a moment there was no give. Then the pressure released as Lucas pulled the knife back. He kept it at Cavalo’s throat but compensated for every step Cavalo took. “Turn around.”

No.

“Turn. Around.”

A flash of teeth.
Fuck you. This way. See my face. See your face.

Cavalo was angry. Angry that this was even happening. Angry that he was doing nothing to stop it. Angry at the knife against him. Angry at the Dead Rabbit in front of him, his dick rising outside of his pants. Cavalo reached down and grabbed the head roughly, pulling on it with a callused hand. Lucas exhaled through gritted teeth. “Face to face?” Cavalo asked.

Yes. Yes.

“It won’t always be this way.”

Who says it’ll ever be anything more? Or ever again?

Cavalo shoved his leg between Lucas’s, pushing the pants down and spreading his legs. Lucas stepped out of them. Goose bumps spread along his thighs. Cavalo reached down and hooked an arm around his right leg, bringing it up to his waist. Lucas leaned back against the beam, his free hand wrapping around it above his head. The knife stayed against Cavalo. Cavalo thought about breaking his hand and taking the knife but decided against it. Lucas’s balls rested against his cock as he lifted the leg higher. He looked down between them and spit on his dick once more. He let go of Lucas’s leg and guided his cock up. There was resistance. He pushed. Nothing. Pushed harder. The wall gave. He groaned as he slid up and in. Lucas’s mouth hung open as Cavalo pushed farther. There was heat at his front. Cold against his back.