Private Dicks (45 page)

He connected, but the demon remained unfazed, although it was obvious that he was growing angrier with each missed attack. Quinn felt the tingling in his hands growing stronger still and an idea came to him; he tried visualizing the power wrapped around his hand as a physical force. This time when he hit the demon, he felt the impact and heard the demon grunt. The demon did not pull back immediately, but after a few more of those hits, the demon finally stumbled back, clutching his chest.

"What are you?"

Quinn had no idea how to answer his question, but he could feel the power thrumming through him. His pulse had jumped, his heart beating faster. He felt like he might explode if he could not expel his power somehow. It threatened to overwhelm him—whispered to him all the things that he could do. Why, he could stop Francis and his threats against Oz. He could hunt down his father's creditors and make sure they stopped harassing him forever. Quinn could do good; so much good. All this power at his fingertips.

Then common sense kicked in: Lady Covington had started out with the same sort of intention, had she not? To make amends to the child she had abandoned? How many people had she killed to see that goal through, only to fail in the end? Tamping down on the power was not easy, but once Quinn did, he found he could control it. When he looked at the demon, he could see how the demon's power had weakened.

The demon rushed him again, his mouth snarling in rage, and Quinn caught it easily by the neck—all that power confined in Lady Covington's small frail body. The demon's eyes widened in fear when he realized what Quinn was doing, realized that the power was being drained directly from him and into Quinn.

"No," the demon hissed. It was obvious that he had not anticipated this ending.

"All those lives you took." Quinn did not recognize his own voice, brimming with so much power that it boomed. "Now you will understand how they felt."

"Merely food," the demon sneered but Quinn could see his features slackening. "One day you, too, will be the same."

"I will die before it comes to that."

"We will see," the demon whispered. Quinn nearly missed the pulsing light connecting the demon to Sebastian's pocket watch. When the light faded, he felt Lady Covington grow slack in his hand. Suddenly unsure of himself, Quinn set her carefully on the ground.

"What did I do to him?" he demanded of Sebastian.

"You had a link to him. Through that link, you took his power."

"A link?" Because the demon had possessed his mother? What did that mean? How would Quinn go about his life with this new knowledge, with the realization of what he would become? Would his father look at him differently? Not that it mattered much, not with both Lady Covington and the demon dead, and the only person left to give him answers staring at a pocket watch. "What now?"

"Now, my dear Quinton, we part ways." Sebastian stepped forward until he stood directly in front of Quinn. "How odd to realize that I think I shall miss you." And like that, it was over—four people dead, one nearly so, and it was over. The adrenaline nearly drained from Quinn until he processed Sebastian's statement.

"Miss me? Why?"

"I think I might like again to witness your fearlessness." Sebastian leaned down, until his lips hovered over Quinn's. "I think I might also like to steal your third kiss."

Quinn huffed in annoyance. "You stop counting after the first."

"Really?" Sebastian asked. "Such an odd human custom." Quinn's eyes fluttered shut as Sebastian kissed him. Despite Sebastian's words, his kiss didn't seem to be saying goodbye. It brought Quinn back to that energized state where it felt like he might shake apart if given half the opportunity. When Sebastian pulled back, Quinn was embarrassed to realize that he had clenched his hands in Sebastian's cloak and they were surrounded in visible sparks.

Sebastian smiled and was leaning in to kiss him again, when Quinn caught sight of the pin on his collar. A cross. Quinn pushed him back suddenly. "The first two victims had crosses across their chest."

"What?" Sebastian looked adorably confused, staring down at his hands as if wondering where he had gone wrong.

"The first two victims had crosses across their chest. Why would a demon burn a cross into a person?"

"A demon would not," Sebastian answered him. His attention was rather suddenly drawn to his clock. "It looks like yet another soul's time draws near."

"A demon might not—but a hunter would." The first man had been rumored to take part in dark magic. The second had been covered in a sleek pelt of hair, but for the mark on his chest. "A hunter trying to send a message. Sebastian, was Oz here last night?"

"Your angel? He was. He made some rather adorable demands too. I saw him off the property." Sebastian's smirk told Quinn that there was more to that story that Sebastian was not telling. "If he had been a victim of Lady Covington, he would not have lived through it."

Oz's attacker was still out there. And he might come back.

Wait. "Angel?"

"Only in the metaphorical sense," Sebastian replied, tone amused. "Although if you do not hurry, it might be in the literal sense, too. No, I believe you are already too late. I must go." Quinn grabbed at his sleeve and Sebastian looked startled. "Let go, Quinton." But Quinn refused and found himself dragged along with Sebastian. It felt like being tugged through a door, then nothing. All sound had vanished. It felt like he had entered the abyss.

When they reentered reality by crashing into his father's bedroom, Sebastian managed to stay upright, but Quinn fell to his knees as nausea and vertigo overtook him. "That was dangerous," Sebastian informed him irritably.

"Fearless, remember?" Except he was feeling less fearless and more like he was going to be embarrassingly ill.

"Demon," a man hissed from behind them, and Quinn turned slowly to see Francis standing in the doorway, pistol aimed directly at Quinn.

Quinn studied him for a moment, the man that had hurt Oz, and he felt a deep hatred come over him. He wanted to drain Francis dry the same way he had drained the demon. He wanted to hurt him, make him suffer. Quinn recognized, though, that at least part of that was the power talking, so he took control again, and demanded, "Why?"

"Why kill you? That answer is easy: you are a demon, a perversion of God's will."

Quinn barely managed to get his words out from between clenched teeth. "Not me, Oz. He's one of you, is he not? Why hurt him?"

"Oswald, a hunter?" The thought seemed to amuse Francis. "Oswald never had the stomach to become a hunter. He was trained, but refused to do what had to be done." The steadiness of his gun hand made it clear that Francis felt that he had the stomach that Oz lacked.

"Refused to kill," Quinn inferred. Francis grimaced. "That didn't make him weak; it made him all the stronger." And no matter how much Quinn disagreed with Oz, he had always been able to appreciate the fact that Oz stuck to his principles. He refused to harm any creature if he could help it. It didn't make him soft. "I will not let you touch him."

Francis looked down at the gun in his hand, then up at Quinn. "Whether you step aside or not, Oswald will likely die. Look at him." Quinn glanced over at the bed, where Oz was sweating as he slept fitfully. Francis was right: Oz looked like he might die. But Oz couldn't die; not before Quinn had a chance to berate him for going out and doing the same thing he had warned Quinn not to do. Not before Quinn had a chance to make Oz realize that Quinn had grown up and he truly did love Oz.

Quinn's eyes caught on Sebastian standing at his side, cursed watch in hand. Oz's time could not be up. Quinn would not accept that. Sebastian looked down and their eyes met. "Please."

"Quinton, what would you have me do? I cannot leave here without a soul."

"So if I gave you another soul, would you spare him?" Never had he imagined he would bargain with Death.

Sebastian shook his head. "You do not have it inside of you to kill." He tilted his head to the side. "You would not be nearly as intriguing if you did."

Defeat was not a good taste. It turned to ash in Quinn's mouth as he looked back to Oz, Francis completely forgotten.

"What would you give me?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"What do you want?" Quinn would have been willing to give anything to keep Oz alive. He might have been willing to give his own life if he had thought that Oz might not be angry with him.

Sebastian seemed to think the answer over. He looked at Oz. "You're so warm. So vibrant." His stooped down to brush a hand against Quinn's cheek. Quinn heard the sound of a gun readying to fire. There was a burst of sound, but no pain. For a moment, Quinn thought that perhaps he had died and that was why it had not hurt. Then he opened his eyes and saw that Sebastian had turned to face Francis, his eyes flashing angrily with that gray mist. "I have not finished speaking." His arm was in front of Quinn, protective. With one final glare at an obviously shaken Francis, Sebastian turned back to look Quinn in the eye and his expression softened, even though his eyes did not change to normal. It felt like Quinn was staring into the abyss, and even then, he was not afraid. Sebastian gaze felt almost sweet.

"I would like your heart." The words were said wistfully.

Quinn blinked. "I am afraid that is not mine to give." Quinn felt like a heel.

"You have given it to this man, then?" Sebastian's expression when he looked over at Oz was inscrutable.

"I love him."

Sebastian nodded, as if he had already expected this answer. "You do not even have a bit to spare?"

Quinn studied him and thought of the man that had stolen his first kiss; the man that tempted him beyond reason—and realized that Sebastian had already stolen a bit of his heart. "I do not know," Quinn answered truthfully.

Sebastian thought over his response, and then nodded. "Even if I do bring him back, he may not be happy with you."

Quinn wanted to ask why, but then again, he had to give something to get something, right? Oz being alive seemed like the most important part, though. He saw Oz's breaths grow labored. "I can accept that."

Sebastian placed his hand over Oz's chest and Quinn could feel the surge of strange power. It felt nothing like the power the demon had held. Instead, it reminded Quinn of that dark abyss they had traveled through to arrive here. Quinn pulled himself to his feet and moved closer, hand coming down to brush against Oz's clammy skin. It took a few minutes for Quinn to realize that Sebastian had stopped, and Quinn looked up to see Sebastian watching him. "Give it a few days."

Quinn nodded. "What about Francis?" Francis had made his escape when they had forgotten about him.

"His time is coming," Sebastian promised. "You can tell your angel that his new duties start in fourteen days."

"What new duties?" What had he thrown Oz into now with his selfish wish to keep him around?

Sebastian's mouth twisted into a painful attempt at a smile,. "I am afraid I cannot tell you that." Sebastian made to leave, but then moved quickly, kissing Quinn with a fierceness that made Quinn's heart break a little. This was undeniably goodbye, and while it should not have mattered—in fact, he should have been glad to be rid of the man who had born witness to secrets Quinn had never wanted to know—he did not want goodbye. Was it possible to find one's heart torn into two directions? "Take care, Quinton. I hope I do not see you again for a very long time."

Sebastian had disappeared before Quinn opened his eyes. His heart hurt and he knew this time that the demon was not at fault.

A small noise came and Quinn looked down to the bed to see Oz slowly opening his eyes. "Quinn?"

Quinn felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and blinked them back. It would not do to cry, not now; even if he had seen Oz on death's doorstep. He leaned down and hugged Oz, heedless of his bandages.

"Quinn, it hurts," Oz whimpered, and Quinn pulled back quickly. The tears refused to stay back this time. "What happened?"

"You're alive, Oz."

Oz looked confused. "I am," he repeated, as if wondering why Quinn would make that statement. "What happened?"

Quinn nearly asked what he remembered, then realized that it wasn't important. What mattered was that Oz was alive. He stroked his fingers down Oz's cheek. "I love you, Oz." He watched Oz's eyes widen in surprise and wonder. "But if you ever do something so stupid again, I will kill you myself next time."

"What did I do?" Oz asked, confused.

"Nothing," Quinn answered fondly, and kissed Oz's cheek.

Later in the day, Oz's memory seemed to come back to him. "I could have sworn I felt a demon earlier."

"The demon is … " Quinn pondered on how to word it. "Gone," he finished lamely.

"Gone?" Oz repeated. "I wonder how."

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not," Oz acquiesced. "As long as you're safe."

Quinn smiled.

Oswald Gardiner was not happy.

It had been a little over five weeks since he had been brought back from the dead and everything should have been perfect. At last, he had Quinn curled up beside him in bed, hand clutched in his shirt as if he were afraid Oz might disappear in the middle of the night. Oz had been waiting for this moment for two years, even if he had always been unable to express his feelings. Oz had convinced himself that he would be happy sitting back and watching Quinn find happiness. In the end, he kept thanking whoever would listen that it had turned out differently, even if Matthew kept watching him with an angry look in his eye.

Of course, Oz was selfish enough to realize that even having almost everything he wanted just was not good enough.

It might have been thanks for his new job. In truth, he had not really wanted to return to the church, not when he knew Francis was out there. It might have been more appropriate to say that he had lost some of his faith watching the way hatred had morphed his brother's features—which was for the better, apparently. As Sebastian had explained it, one could not easily return to life. In payment for his new found life, Oz would have to work as one of Death's reapers. He had not been willing to admit it, but working as a reaper was oddly more peaceful than being a hunter. As a reaper, he was at least stopping the pain of others, rather than hunting down people who might be peacefully living their lives. He suspected Sebastian already knew from the smirk that had formed on his face the last time he had seen Oz.