Page 2 of Kit
Nick hadn’t got the chance to prepare anything for tonight. He’d arrived home from college and been shuffled straight onto the yacht, weak objections about a presentation on Monday dying when he realised his family were serious about going through The Tear. Aboutstaying overnight. God. That bombshell had left Nick so flustered he still had a handful of unroasted coffee beans in his pocket. He wanted to try germinating them on his windowsill at the house. Something he’d tried many times in the past, but that was before The Tear had opened, connected his world to this one and raised the temperature a few degrees. Maybe just enough to finally get them to sprout…
Trevor still worriedly searched the guests.
“It’s not burning anymore,” Nick reassured. And the itch had subsided. “I’ll wash it off if it gets worse.”
A muscle in Trevor’s cheek twitched. Connor’s brows rose ever so slightly.
“Laurence won’t be upset about me wiping it off if it’s hurting.”
Trevor hesitated, but Connor’s lips curved into a slow smile. “What did Laurence tell you he used for those?”
Nick blinked. Foreboding filled him at the sight of Connor’s simmering amusement. “It’s henna. It’ll wash off in a week.”
“Henna is applied with a brush.”
Nick wasn’t stupid. As soon as he’d seen the little handheld device that Laurence wielded, he’d questioned him, but Laurence had explained it was semi-permanent, not a real tattoo.
Trevor winced. “I was wondering how he’d convinced you to let him do so many. It isn’t permanent, but it’s not henna.”
“How long does this last?” Nick looked anew at his arms. From his elbows down, he was covered in black symbols, and even when the needle had been moving over the veins of his inner wrist, Nick hadn’t complained. Needles didn’t bother him, and he already had a tattoo—a little compass on his lower back.
Connor shrugged.
“You were trying to get my attention?” Vi emerged from the crowd. She stood as tall as Trevor in her heels, an imposing yet elegant figure. Crimson-red fabric hugged her body, and paired with her black hair, it gave the odd illusion that her skin was glowing.
“One of the symbols on Nick was bothering him,” Trevor said with a placid smile. His dad had adopted an acceptance-without-questioning approach to the oddities of what came through The Tear. Adonis, his son’s merman boyfriend who hissed at him all the time? He didn’t bat an eye. Bee and Dew, two cheeky mermen who chucked fish at seals, boats and Adonis? Amusing. His youngest going to fight a memory-eating monster with the help of a tailed swordsman? Slightly worrying.Trevor took everything in stride, though to be fair, Adonis was stranger than anything Nick had seen at this party.
“Which one?” Vi peered at Nick’s arms.
Nick indicated the one he’d been resisting rubbing.
“It is drawn perfectly. Laurence did a skilful job,” she complimented. “Most likely it warmed as it functioned.”
“That’s the language one?” Trevor peeked at the inside of his own wrist, where he had a small, innocuous symbol done in what Nick would bet wasactuallyhenna because he could see the grain of brush strokes in the ink.
“Yes,” Vi confirmed.
A breathless laugh preceded Laurence. He bumped into Nick’s back, shouldering him over to make room for him and Jasper in their circle. Laurence’s vest hung open, the top few buttons of his white shirt were unclasped, and beneath the fabric, his chest heaved. Sweat pasted his honey-blond hair to his forehead, and his eyes sparkled, the dark brown reflecting the dancing flames of the braziers.
His clear enjoyment doused Nick’s outrage in calming waters. Typically, Nick hated The Tear. He resented what it promised for the future, for every worried late-night thought about Connor and Laurence passing out of reach. Out of safety. Laurence’s happiness complicated that hate. Nick couldn’t remember him ever being so happy before Connor came into their lives. Exuberant? Yes. Passionate? Yes. Caring? Yes. Unkeeled delight?
Not like this.
“Why did they make a face when I said I was going to wash these off?” Nick asked.
Laurence blinked up at Nick. “Wash it off?”
“You said it was henna.”
Laurence blinked again. “I said Dad’s one was henna.”
“Andimpliedthat these were too.”
Another oh-so-innocent blink. “Did I?”
“Are you—how long is this going to last?” Nick demanded, actually annoyed now that he realised that Laurence’s deception had been entirely intentional. Those stupid, cheeky mermen were rubbing off on his little brother. “Forever?”
“I didn’t use permanent ink. It’ll be six months tops, and then it’ll fade, I promise.” Laurence’s eyes got even bigger, projecting baby-fawn innocence. “Nobody else will let me practice on them. Dad can’t have tattoos because of work, and Connor’s all squirmy about needles, and you’re just way easier to work on because you sit super still,” Laurence insisted. “I tried one on Jasper, and he almost took my eye out with his tail.”
