Page 18 of The Devil You Know
Even in the dark, Seth knew Jesse’s gaze slid to him. “How about you? Now that you’re out of the Army and there’s no more ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ got anyone you’re planning to look up from the old days?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Seth shook his head. “I figure I’ll have to go to Indy to meet someone. Not that there aren’t gay men in Brazil or Terre Haute, but they’re so far in the closet they can see Narnia.”
“But you want to meet someone?”
“Sure. Of course,” Seth replied. For some reason, the idea of going clubbing or swiping right made him feel uncomfortable, as if it would be cheating.
Can’t cheat on the loser who broke my heart six years ago. That ship sailed a long while back.
“If you need a wingman, just let me know.”
Seth raised an eyebrow. “Dude, as you noticed, I’m gay. No offense, but you probably don’t hang out at my kind of bar.” Seth had been young enough when he enlisted that his experience with gay bars of any kind was limited.
Jesse shrugged. “My buddy Brent from school is gay. When we go out, I keep the girls away from him, and he distracts the guys from me. Works great.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Seth admitted. “Good on you.”
By the time the movie ended, Jesse was sleeping, leaning back into his corner of the couch with his eyes shut and his mouth open.
Seth smiled, overcome with affection as he thought about how much Jesse still looked like his much-younger self. He picked up their dishes and empty bottles and carried them out to the kitchen.
Jesse snored mightily, and Seth snickered. Rather than try to manhandle his brother to bed, Seth just tossed the crocheted throw over him. He figured Jesse would drag himself to his room when he woke up.
“’Night, Jesse,” Seth said quietly, still needing to pinch himself to believe he was finally home.
He settled into bed and winced as his back spasmed. He’d already made an appointment with a chiropractor and booked a massage for his tight shoulders at a local chain—with a gift card from an overdue birthday present.Just another souvenir that makes the war harder to forget.
Sleep, when it came, did not come gently. Seth found himself back in Afghanistan, pinned down with his men and badly outnumbered. He smelled sulfur in the air from burning mines and felt the grit of sand everywhere.
He heard the whistle-whine of an air strike, felt the ground shake beneath his feet, and pulled a scarf over his mouth and nose to keep from choking on dust. The harsh staccato of gunfire and the screams of dying men made Seth’s stomach knot as his heart thudded, wondering if each breath would be his last.
More explosions rocked the night, but everything around Seth had changed. Fire and smoke filled the end of a dark tunnel. He saw the form of a man limned in an unearthly green glow. Strange energy made his skin prickle and raised the hair on the back of his neck. Seth ran for his life, pushing someone ahead of him. The smell of dank stone and fresh blood raised bile in his throat.
Slick mud made running difficult. He shoved his companion toward the mouth of the tunnel, and they slip-slid toward safety. A blast behind them sent flames rushing through the darkness, and a rain of dirt and stone pelted them from overhead. Seth knew they had to reach the opening before the whole structure came down on top of them.
They got to the end, and Seth dragged his companion away from the entrance as the tunnel collapsed behind them with a rumble. He still couldn’t see the face of the man who accompanied him, but the relief he felt that they were both safe and alive filled him so fully that he knew the stranger was important.
The scene changed to a hospital room. Seth lay in a bed, with IVs lacing his arms. A tall, thin man looked down at him. His long face, sharp features, and wire-rimmed glasses made him look like a humorless accountant. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest, and on his right hand was a large ring with a blood-red stone.
Seth startled awake. His heart pounded, and his T-shirt clung to his back, wet with sweat. Disoriented, he looked wildly around him, and it took a while for him to believe that he was safe in his old room at home.
Where did the tunnel come from? Who was the man I saw inside it? What happened—and what was that glow?
The first answer his mind supplied was “magic,” but Seth’s rational side shot that down right away.
There’s no such thing as magic. I must have seen something in a movie, and my brain glommed it onto stuff that happened over there.
Who was the “accountant,” and why was I in the hospital? Do I know him?
He shook his head to clear it, confused and upset and repeated calming phrases to bring down his racing heartbeat.I’m home. I’m safe. No one’s trying to kill me.
But even as Seth tried to reassure himself, a quiet voice in the back of his mind spoke up.
Are you sure?
4
EVAN
