Private Dicks (43 page)

With a sigh, he poked Oz and tried not to giggle when he startled awake, staring at Quinn with wide green eyes. Oz looked at the door. "When did you leave?"

"Does that matter?" Quinn patted him on the head fondly and walked through his bedroom door, not at all surprised when Oz followed.

"Your father is very worried, you know."

"Worrying him was not my goal," Quinn sighed, and sat heavily on his bed, pushing the hair that had freed itself from his queue out of his face.

"What was your goal, then?"

"Lawrence was my friend, Oz. Do you not find it the least bit worrisome that bodies have begun appearing on the doorstep?"

Oz frowned. "It is a dangerous neighborhood, Quinn." But it was obvious from his tone that even he did not believe that.

"Odd, then, how bodies are dropped on our doorstep and no others. Treat me like a child if you feel you must, but I will not sit around and wait for the killer to show himself."

"No one expects—" Oz stopped himself and sighed. "Why did you grow up so fast, Quinn?"

"I grew up a long time ago. No one bothered to notice."

The look in Oz's eyes made Quinn blush and he turned. How long had he wished that Oz would view him that way? Wiping the thought from his mind before his body could begin reacting, Quinn stripped off his shirt. When he peeked behind him to see if Oz was watching, he saw Oz studying him with interest, before his cheeks pinked and he turned back to the window. Suddenly embarrassed by his own boldness, Quinn changed quickly.

"So where were you?" Oz asked once again.

Quinn debated the merits of lying. "I found work at Lady Covington's estate," he answered finally, deciding to stick close to the truth.

Oz turned quickly. "Do you need money?"

Quinn gritted his teeth in irritation. "Even if I did require money, I would earn it myself."

"Of course," Oz soothed, and Quinn frowned at him. "Then what were you doing at the estate?"

"Working," Quinn answered. "As I just told you." He tried an innocent smile when Oz gave him an irritated look, but Oz had known him for far too long. "I had hoped that by asking around Lawrence's last workplace, I might be able to find who killed him."

Quinn watched as Oz fought with the worry that threatened to spill out of his mouth. "I hope you aren't seeking revenge, Quinn."

"One day, Oz, everyone will be able to afford to be as softhearted as you are." The sad part was that Quinn liked Oz's soft heart; admired it, even if he found it difficult to follow the philosophies he knew Oz believed.

Oz sighed. "There was a time you wouldn't even kill a bug."

"I was thirteen, Oz." And to be honest, he had thought that acting like a damsel in distress would win him Oz's attention.

Oz shook his head, and asked, "And did you find Lawrence's killer?"

"No." Quinn settled himself in bed. "I have no idea who killed Lawrence. I know he was well loved at the estate he worked at. I know the house is as disturbing as the rumors say."

Oz settled on the bed beside him and it was reminiscent of something he'd done years ago, around the time he had first started visiting and another killer had been haunting the area. Quinn had been afraid. and Oz had sat beside him all night and promised to keep him safe. The memory made him ask wryly, "Do you intend to sit here all night, then?"

"For as long as I can. It seems the best way to keep you safe."
From yourself
was heavily implied.

Quinn wanted to be angry, but he truly did feel safe with Oz there. He curled up until his head was in Oz's lap, feeling the Oz's surprise. "Have you ever felt a darkness so deep, you could swear you would drown in it?"

Oz's hand paused from where it had begun playing in his hair. "What happened, Quinn?"

"Nothing." But his hand came up to lie against his chest. The pain had yet to come back, but he could still feel the phantom pangs. "A little scared is all."
Fear is healthy
.

"I will protect you, Quinn," Oz promised, and Quinn enjoyed the privilege of a closeness he never thought he would have. When Oz brushed his fingers through his hair and against his scalp, Quinn felt warmth spread through him. Even the pain seemed to fade away under the feeling of protection and safety. Exhaustion started to catch up with Quinn, making his eyes heavy. "I don't like you going into that house if a killer might be residing there."

"Are you going to slay all my demons for me?"

"If that is what it takes." Oz said it so confidently that Quinn could only huff in laughter.

"Part of being an adult is slaying your own demons, Oswald."

"Part of being important to someone is knowing when to let them help you."

Was he important to Oz? Quinn was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Do you think someone is after me?"

Oz stiffened. "Why do you ask that?"

"I have stumbled over all the bodies so far. It feels like a warning." And the note, but Quinn once again chose not to mention that.

"I won't let anyone hurt you."

Quinn could feel consciousness slipping away. "Will you stay with me through the night?"

"For as long as I am able." Oz stopped stroking his hair and Quinn made an irritated noise. With a chuckle, Oz resumed. "You're very important to me."

The part of Quinn that was not currently flushed with happiness wondered why Oz had never bothered to express this before. But since Oz saw fit to confess his feelings at last, Quinn felt comfortable admitting, "I love you, Oz." Had he bothered to look up, he might have seen the looked of stunned disbelief on Oz's face. As it was, he drifted into sleep.

When he awoke the next day, Oz was gone. Quinn fought with himself not to feel too disappointed. When he wandered downstairs, his father favored him with an unhappy look. "Returned home, have you?"

Quinn ignored the belligerent question, and instead asked, "Where is Oz?"

His father shrugged. "He said he had something to take care of. He left before the sun rose." Quinn glanced at the clock in the corner to see that it was nearly noon. Had he really slept that late? But he felt better rested than he had in the past couple of days. His face flushed when he remembered why he'd slept so well. He had thought that when he awoke, Oz would be there and they might talk about the night before. But with Oz gone, Quinn wondered if perhaps he had read something into Oz's words that simply had not been there.

The confession had seemed so sudden. Maybe it was not a confession at all. Quinn sighed sadly. "I will be at the library."

He saw his father's mouth open, could practically hear the objection. But Matthew took one good look at him and changed his mind. "I don't know why you bother to mention it to me, anyway. Not like you would listen if I asked you not to."

"Will you tell me why you would prefer me not to go outdoors?" Quinn paused with his hand on the knob of the door.

Matthew replied, annoyed, "There is a killer out there, Quinton. It's hardly difficult to understand."

Quinn frowned at his father, then shook his head, determined not to begin an argument. Instead, he pushed the door open and started outside, nearly tripping over the prone body lying in the doorway. The pain came back worse than ever in his chest when he realized the identity of the body. Oz lay in front of their store, disheveled and dirty. Quinn nearly thought he was dead, but Oz let out a weak groan.

"Father!" As Matthew ran to see what was wrong Quinn noticed the darkening red bloom on the front of Oz's clothing.

Blood. Oz was bleeding.

Matthew pushed Quinn aside and bent down to help Oz. Quinn could only watch uselessly as his father searched for the source of the bleeding. "Quinn, go warm up some water." Quinn nodded and started to step back, when he noticed that Oz was mumbling something. Matthew stared at Oz in horror, and then seemed to notice that Quinn had yet to move. "Quinn! Water!" Quinn nodded again and hurried off this time.

It took most of the morning for them to stabilize Oz, and even then he still looked near death. He had yet to try speaking again and had slipped into unconsciousness not long after Matthew had moved him upstairs. He had patched Oz up the best he could and informed Quinn that it was in God's hands now.

Quinn sat beside Oz and wanted to cry. It was his fault that this had happened. He should never have told Oz about what he was doing. It should not have come as a surprise that Oz would try and protect him, to get to the bottom of it if for nothing more than to protect Quinn.

Quinn leaned down and brushed a soft kiss on Oz's cheek. "I swear I'll find them." He dropped quietly from the window and exited the alley. His father would be angry when he realized that Quinn was missing, but no one else would get hurt—not while Quinn had the ability to make the coward face him.

When Quinn arrived at Lady Covington's estate, he was out of breath and Mary was nowhere to be found. Poking around found him Sebastian in the library. Rather than reading, however, Sebastian had moved the chair until it sat directly in front of the fire and he stared as if hypnotized by the flames. "Back again, Quinton? You never learn, do you?"

"Someone hurt Oz."

"Oz? Your one-sided love interest?" Sebastian turned to look at him and his brow furrowed. "Or perhaps not so one-sided after all." He looked down at his own hand. "Very interesting." Before Quinn could ask him what he was talking about, Sebastian stood. "Still not afraid?"

Sebastian was dressed in a black cloak that made his hair seem all the darker. One eye had gone to the mist and a slow smile curved his lips. He looked like the devil himself, and Quinn felt another pang in his chest, the feeling of something trying very hard to free itself. He fought it back with determination, and answered through clenched teeth, "Someone reminded me fear is not a bad thing. But I am still not afraid of you."

Sebastian laughed. "I believe that, too, though I'm not sure why I find it so appealing." He shrugged. "Someone else said the same words to me last night. An avenging angel."

Quinn paled. "Did you hurt Oz?"

"I did not touch your angel." Sebastian had come close enough now to lay his hand on Quinn's chest. "You find it harder to fight now, do you not?"

"What do you mean?"

"Inside of you. Fighting to get free."

Quinn pulled back and brought his own hand up to his chest. He could still feel tingles where Sebastian had touched him, the pain fading to a dull throb. "What is it?"

Sebastian leaned in until their noses nearly touched. "Humans are taught to fear the darkness, for evil lies inside. What they often miss is the truth that humans themselves shape the darkness. It mirrors their hearts." Sebastian placed his hand on Quinn's chest once again, and Quinn did not pull back. "What lies in your heart, Quinton?"

"Stop talking in riddles," Quinn retorted. "It is uncharacteristic of you."

Sebastian laughed, the sound full of genuine amusement. "I suppose you are right. You're a demon."

Quinn's mouth fell open. "I cannot be a demon."

"Oh, but I assure you: you are one. Only half of one, admittedly, but I would argue that that makes you all the stronger—or the more dangerous. One never truly knows with demons." Sebastian stepped back and went to his chair. "I have time to answer a few of the questions you must have."

"But how can I be a demon? How is one created?"

"The same as any other creature I suspect." Sebastian sounded on the verge of laughter. "When a man and woman love each other very much—"

"I know where children come from!" Quinn retorted, his cheeks hot.

Sebastian laughed, before stating matter-of-factly, "I bet you were adopted."

"My mother found me on the stoop one day. But it was the stoop of a church!" That had to prove something. And he had gone to the church for his schooling; he could not be any part of a demon. Quinn had learned that demons could not stand the power of religion. But then again, he had also met a bishop that was more like a demon than anyone he had ever met.

"Church propaganda states that creatures of darkness cannot darken the doorway of a church. Personally, I've always found a sermon or two soothing."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Are you a demon as well?"

"Not exactly. But this is not about me. The reason you are constantly in pain is because you keep shoving the demon away."

"Demons cause destruction, do they not?" It seemed like an easy decision. "It seems like it would be smarter to fight the demon."

"Have you always denied yourself with such veracity? Perhaps if you accepted what you are, you could protect the ones you love, rather than become a burden." At Quinn's stricken look, Sebastian sighed. "A demon is not inherently evil. I have seen demons that can be as good as humans. I have seen humans evil enough to be considered demons. You must decide who you wish to be." He paused as if listening for something. "And you will have to decide quickly if you plan to stop your killer." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch.

While he was distracted, Quinn considered his words. When he thought about being a burden to everyone, he winced, but it was true—Oz had gotten hurt because Quinn had told him that he was afraid. As a result, Oz had tried to protect him. His father kept trying to protect him, as well; did he know about Quinn being a demon? And Francis, he had said as much when Quinn had run into him.

He could not change the fact that he was a demon, but if he stopped pushing it away … "Why is it happening now? Why not before?"

"Because your demon is responding to another demon in the vicinity."

"The day I first came here, I heard someone cry out to me. They told me to turn back. Do you think—"

"You heard them?" Sebastian asked. His frown deepened, "That was not the demon. Those voices were those of the demon's victims." He tilted his head to the side. "I wonder why they chose to warn you?"

"The demon is in this house, then." Quinn thought it over. The demon could be anybody really; the church taught that demons could hide anywhere at any time—that was why a good man had to be on his guard. But Sebastian had just challenged him that the church was wrong. Then it clicked. "Lady Covington?"