Page 2 of Caroled
Charles blinked, not knowing what to make of that. He hadn’t expected the Chief to be so accepting of him having a male lover, let alone a demonic one, yet Townsend had never seemed upset by any aspect of it. And now he actually sounded approving, like an uncle endorsing his nephew’s match. Not that it was any of his business.
Charles wasn’t sure whether Tenraelwasgood for him. Some of the things that Charles’s darker nature did to him…. But Tenrael said he liked those things. Needed them, even. Said that his kind craved pain with their pleasure. Still, Charles couldn’t always shake twinges of guilt when he saw Tenrael’s blood, bright scarlet on his bronze skin, or heard Tenrael scream between pleas for more. Perhaps Charles could blame his unique parentage. A human and an angel were never meant to produce a child together, yet they had, the result an abomination doomed to twist eternally at the intersection of dark and light, of lust and contrition. Charles would give his life for Tenrael. Would not want to live without him. So regardless of whether Tenrael was good for him, he was certainly necessary.
“What’s in San Francisco?” Charles was cold and hungry and tired of Townsend’s games. He wanted to go inside and eat pancakes.
“Nothing at the moment, my boy. At least, nothing specific. It’s only that I need some coverage there for a short while, just in case there are any troubles.”
Charles’s gut tightened uncomfortably. “Is something wrong with Ferencz and Donne?”
“No, no. Well, nothing serious. Agent Donne broke his leg and is laid up while it heals, and Ferencz is busy caring for him. It’s best that Ferencz not work alone anyway. Agent Crespo has been temporarily reassigned to the Marines and is in the Pacific. I hear he’s doing a fine job there. So many of my men are overseas now; I’m spread too thin.”
Charles clenched his jaw. He’d seriously considered enlisting, although at forty-one he was a little old for it. In addition, he’d have to explain the scars on his back where his useless wings had once been, before he’d had them hacked off in a fit of teenage pique and rebellion. He also doubted that the military would be able to abide his strange dietary requirements. And then there was Tenrael—who most certainly could not enlist. Charles feared that his demon wouldn't survive without him, but deeper—in what passed for his soul—Charles truly feared whether he’d manage without his demon. In the past, Charles had done things he wasn’t proud of on behalf of the Bureau, and that was with only a handgun and knives. He wouldn’t trust himself within the military, with their bigger, more lethal weapons.
“The war effort takes place here at home too.” Rare compassion softened Townsend’s tone. And then his eyes grew incredibly sad. “You don’t have to offer yourself up for slaughter to be a hero, Charles.” Had a touch of British accent suddenly crept in?
“San Francisco is part of the war effort?”
“Everything is. It’s all connected. Weaknesses at home rob our strength abroad. We must maintain order here if we expect to help restore it elsewhere.”
Townsend’s arguments made sense, Charles supposed. And in any case there was no point in disputing them; he’d lose. But there were other points to be made. “Tenrael stands out. We manage here in LA because there’s space, and we do most of our work at night. But San Francisco is compact. People are going to notice a fellow with wings and horns.”
“Yes, I guess that’s so, even in San Francisco. Which is why I brought this.” Townsend pulled an object from his coat pocket and cradled it in his palm. Charles had to lean in to see what it was.
“A ring?”
“It carries a spell. And, I'll point out, it was very expensive and hard to obtain. I’m investing a lot in your demon.”
Charles narrowed his eyes, uncertain whether he wanted Tenrael magicked in any way. “What does it do?”
“It makes the wearer, well, human. As long as it’s worn on a finger, any unusual characteristics will disappear. In a demon’s case, that means no wings, no horns, no red eyes. Anyone looking at him will assume he’s as ordinary as….” Townsend barked a laugh. “I was going to sayas ordinary as you and me, but neither of us is ordinary at all, are we? As unremarkable as her, then.” He waved at Mrs. Evans down the street, who, clad in bathrobe and slippers, was retrieving a newspaper from the end of her driveway.
“Human,” Charles said doubtfully.
“Temporarily. His wings will return the moment he takes the ring off.”
When Charles hesitated, Townsend pressed the ring into his hand. “Here you go.”
“What happens if a regular person wears it?”
A bright smile. “He’ll have a nice piece of jewelry to show off. Nothing more.”
Maybe if Charles hadn't been cold and hungry, he would have thought of other reasons to refuse. But now he just sighed. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“It’s simple. You and your demon remain in San Francisco until Donne and Ferencz can resume their duties. Despite the three years, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten your training or the Bureau’s directives. If we’re lucky, nothing at all will happen and you’ll get a nice little vacation on the government’s dime. We’ll pay all expenses, plus a hundred and ten dollars a week.”
“Each? One-ten for me and another for Tenrael?”
Townsend’s smile showed his teeth. “Of course.”
“When?”
“Can you leave today?”
“Tomorrow.” They could have left today, but Charles didn’t want to be too compliant.
“Tomorrow morning.” Townsend took a slug from his flask, tucked it away, and stood. “When you arrive, check in with Ferencz and Donne. They’ll be able to tell you anything you need to know. I’ll have Stella make lodging arrangements for you. She’ll phone this afternoon with details.”
Charles remained in his chair, the blanket a little scratchy against his neck. “All right.”
