Page 37 of Sharpen Your Claws

“And is that a problem?”

“No. I like it.”

“You still smell like disinfectant, though,” Nicholas added, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Doctors tend to smell like that.”

A man coughed from the alley. He grabbed his knife, knuckles bone white against the handle. The man’s silhouette stretched, his fingers long and stained. Blood, blacker than ink, dripped from his growing fangs, ripping through his lips. He stumbled forward, feet sinking into crimson snow.

“William.” A hand caught his chin. He met Nicholas’ gaze, a fierce violet, but within, a dull, familiar ashen pink hue that eased the discomfort coiling in his mind.

“I lost the ring. I realized a day or so after I woke up in the hospital that it was gone.”

He wasn’t sure why that slipped out. The ring Nicholas gifted him during the war, that hid him from prying eyes so they could have their midnight rendezvous, had meant nothing. Rather, the ring wasn’t meant to have meaning, but for weeks after waking, he touched his ring finger or searched his pockets to find disappointment. He felt foolish, childish, like he apologized to his parents for losing a new toy.

Nicholas smiled, soft and sweet. “Would you have kept the ring if you still had it?”

“Yes.” He licked his dry lips. “It was useful.”

Nicholas saw through the lie, but played along. “Shall I make you another, then? A more permanent one.”

Warmed, William swerved around him. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

Another noise from the right had him swinging toward it. A woman stumbled through the alley, intoxicated enough to be smelled from a distance. Giggling, she waved and wandered away, singing horribly off key. He lowered his weapon, knuckles aching from the tension.

“You are paranoid,” Nicholas said.

“How observant,” he replied, struggling to catch his breath. He didn’t like it here, feeling as unsafe as he did in the Deadlands. He never wanted those feelings to follow him home. Foolishly, he thought living as a civilian would become easier, that it would take away his nightmares. Alas, nothing stopped shadows from creeping in or familiar faces of terror. Though he slayed his monsters, they lived on through him in nightmares.

“You always wanted to come home,” said Nicholas. “But you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“I am happy,” he corrected, even if the words weighed on his tongue.

“Oh, are you hiding that happiness, then? When do you plan to share it?”

He didn’t warrant that with a response.

At the end of the street, a lantern struggled to illuminate the sharp curve. They left the warehouses and docks some time ago, moving closer to the less secluded parts of the city. That didn’t lessen his nerves, but heightened them because there was more noise that could hide the more nefarious sounds. Drunkards sang from open tavern doors. Musicians played on street corners. Locals wandered home from work or to a shop for the night out. Among them, monsters could be hidden watching their every move.

“How about a drink to calm your nerves?” Nicholas nodded at a pub where a group of men battled their way through the front door, seeming to challenge who could get in first.

“We aren’t out here to drink,” he answered, even if his throat itched for one. Alcohol became too common in his life, necessary to take if he wanted even an hour of rest.

“That could be part of your problem. You focus on work too much, always have.” Nicholas took his hand, and it felt right, like everything he wanted. “Besides, you said we would also test my limits tonight. We have done little of that yet, at least not to my knowledge.”

Nicholas was right. He had been so caught up in work and paranoia that he hadn’t noted Nicholas’ demeanor at all.

“One drink won’t spell our end,” Nicholas said.

“You are…”

“Trouble.” The name fell beautifully from Nicholas’ lips, like a prayer, a hope that William would call him that again and again.

“Always trouble… one drink.” A drink may sway his mind long enough to prevent Nicholas from seeing how broken he had become.

Together, they walked to the pub where their hands fell free in the light. Singing patrons greeted them upon entering the charming interior. While smelling of rum and sweat, that didn’t detract from the comforting lantern light nor the playful bard dancing from tabletop to tabletop.

He found a corner at the back, darkened slightly where others may not notice Nicholas, though most were likely too drunk to realize he was fae in the light.

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