Page 31 of Caroled
“Screw him. I wish you to do whatever makes you most comfortable.”
Grinning, Tenrael remained naked. Charles was barely presentable in socks, trousers, an undershirt, and uncombed hair, but when he opened the door, Townsend appeared unaffected and greeted him with an affable smile. “Charles, my boy! It’s good to see you up and about.”
A part of Charles wanted to slam the door in his face, but he didn’t have any real complaint against the man, and after all, the Bureau was paying for the room. So he opened the door wider and gestured him inside. Townsend didn’t so much as blink at Tenrael, who stood with wings half unfurled and hands on hips, looking huge and fierce. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tenrael.”
Ten nodded warily.
After a brief look around and a chuckle at the table overloaded with food, Townsend collapsed into an armchair near the window and set his hat onto a small table. He pulled out a silver flask and took a healthy swallow, then lit a cigarette. “So. You found the cause of the missing sailors and eliminated the problem. Very good.”
Charles was relieved. He didn’t question Ten’s killing of the merfolk—he’d likely have done the same if their positions had been reversed—and the Bureau tended to make quick work of creatures that harmed humans. But the killing hadn’t been officially authorized or, strictly speaking, entirely necessary. Townsend had seemed equanimous about Tenrael as a peaceful demon, but Charles had worried he’d feel differently about one who slaughtered.
“You know what happened?” he asked.
“I may have a few questions for you later, but yes, my sources have filled me in.” He didn’t clarify who or what those sources were, and Charles didn’t want to know. He was simply pleased he wouldn’t have to repeat the story.
“We can’t do anything about the people who were killed already,” Charles pointed out.
“You can provide some closure for their families, which is often a small comfort. Very little can be done for the dead themselves. I’m sure Agent Ferencz could tell you that.” A shadow of sorrow passed briefly over Townsend’s usually jovial features.
“Now what?”
Townsend shrugged. “You continue your work here until Donne’s recovery is complete. I’m still shorthanded, and the pair of you have clearly demonstrated your suitability for the task.”
“I came a hairsbreadth from being killed. That’s suitable?”
“You survived, and the dangerous creatures did not.That’ssuitable.”
Charles didn’t know how to answer that. It wasn’t a very high standard, but it was practical. And Townsend was a practical man.
“We’ll stay,” Charles said after a pause.
Townsend clapped his hands. “Excellent!” He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray Charles would have sworn wasn’t there before, and he took another long swig from his flask. As much as Charles grumbled about being unable to drink alcohol, he supposed it was preferable to being compelled to drink, like Townsend and Abe.
“I notice you’ve taken possession of Tenrael’s ring,” Townsend said.
Charles instinctively stroked the metal. “He gave it to me.”
“I understand. When, exactly, did this happen?”
“After the merfolk attacked me.”
“How soon after?”
Charles looked to Tenrael, who further unfurled his wings. “Immediately after,” Tenrael said. “I lifted him from the water and set him on the ground. I could not revive him.”
“Hmm.” Townsend stroked his chin. “And when you thought he was dead, you slipped the ring on his finger. Why?”
Tenrael lifted his chin defiantly. “It was mine to give.”
“But why give a gift to a dead man?”
“In some places, heroes were buried in exquisite clothing, with the finest-forged weapons and with a kingdom’s worth of gold and jewels. Charles is a hero, and the ring was all I had.”
“I’m not—” Charles began, but both Tenrael and Townsend silenced him with gestures. Which might have been amusing under other circumstances.
Townsend stood and walked slowly to Tenrael. He looked more contemplative than aggressive, his brow drawn and head cocked. He stopped an arm’s length away. After he stared for a moment or two, a smile curled his lips. “How do you feel about Charles?”
“He is my Master. I serve him.”
