about him, and my secret would go with me.”
“Twisted bastard.”
“Consorting with demons will do that. Although admittedly, he’s been a bit crooked for a long time.” Silas shook like a wet dog shedding water. “Enough about Burns. He leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Eat some bread.” Darien passed him another slice.
Silas nodded. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Grim,” the cat said. “Why am I not hearing that?”
“Thank you, Grim.” Silas reached out and touched the cat’s cheek. “Are you well? And Mal?”
Grim’s eyes dimmed. “She’s shaken. She hadn’t gone to Crosby’s, just knew there was something wrong with Norgaard when he returned, but not what. That’s what she drew me off to talk about. Then when he spelled you, I thought she’d lured me away so I couldn’t protect you, and I jumped her. But we’ve made our peace.”
“What about that fox?” Darien remembered. “Didn’t Burns have one? It said something about lies.”
“He was pulled back.” Grim raised his chin. “We familiars come from an Otherworld, and when our sorcerer dies, we may wander looking for a replacement, or we may get sucked back from whence we came. No one ever knows which.”
The bleakness of his tone bothered Darien. Were you wandering once? Or sucked home? He said, “Whence? You’ve been hanging around Silas too long.”
Grim’s eyes lightened. “He is an awful influence. And slow to produce tuna.”
“I’ll feed you soon, cat,” Silas promised. “All the tuna you can eat. Right now, I want to have a discussion with Darien.”
Grim stood, tail flicking. “I know what kind of discussion you plan to have. Don’t use up so much energy you die of hunger. I’ll be downstairs where it’s quiet waiting for my breakfast.” He jumped down from the bed, paws heavy on the wood floor, and stalked out.
Silas set the loaf of bread aside and turned to Darien.
Who suddenly wanted to postpone the heavy conversation, where Silas would say “it’s been fun but now the demons are defeated and we can’t keep doing this.” Or maybe he wouldn’t, but Darien wasn’t ready to take that chance. “Will you accept that council spot?” he asked.
“Hells, no. I’m no politician. I recommended Joanna Spry, if they can get her to move here. She’s another necromancer, which looks like a good thing to have on hand there. Twenty years older than me, a very level head. Not a lot of power, but sharp as a whip.”
“Will they take your advice?”
“Who knows. Not my problem.” Silas reached for Darien’s hand. “So—”
“That shield inversion thing was neat, huh?” he rushed on. “Ferngold seemed impressed.”
“Puzzled, more like. It’s not a known technique. I don’t know why the shield didn’t break.”
“Well, I made the walls resilient, yeah? Not brittle. Like a rubber-steel dome with the inside connected to my magic, and the outside a protective barrier. So I figured it’s like turning the finger of a glove inside out. Flip it, and the protective barrier is on the inside, containing, and the responsive part is on the outside where I can control it.”
“You figured.”
“Yeah.” Darien swallowed, realizing it’d maybe been a bit risky to apply engineering principles to a magical construct. “Anyhow, it worked.”
“It did. And you’ll likely get asked to demonstrate it again. Although leaving yourself bare of shields made my heart stop.”
“Oh?” That sounded promising.
“Yeah.” Silas caught up his hand again. “But right now, I want to talk about us.”
“Is there an us?” His voice came out thinner than he wanted it.
“I hope so. I think so.” Silas raised Darien’s hand and actually kissed the back of his fingers. “I feel this… this connection to you, and it’s not just about your pretty mouth and skinny ass and courage under fire and that lovely glow of power in you. It’s about how you fit, next to me.”
“Oh.” Dammit, I’m so articulate today. “Yeah, I feel that too.”
“I wasn’t looking for a partner, but that’s what I see in you.”
“Even though I seem to be stuck in this old body—”
Silas hushed him with a finger to his lips. “Not old. Very desirable. Stunning.”
Darien blinked hard, trying to stay calm because they almost died and here he was whining about a few frown wrinkles. “I won’t ever look like I did before, will I?”
“Probably not,” Silas said softly. “But I want the man you are, not the boy you looked like.”
Guys liked the way I looked. Young and smooth and—
Silas squeezed his fingers. “You don’t wish I looked like I was twenty-one, do you?”
“No. Of course not.” Silas’s