To Summon Nightmares (7 page)

"I said I did, didn't I?"

"They're so bad. They're—I wrote them when I was sixteen. How would you like to have something that you wrote when you were sixteen published?"

"I thought they were good."

"Well, they're fine, but..." Cohen straightened up again, letting out a long frustrated moan. "They're just, they're not what I would write now. Not at all, and that's why I'm having trouble writing the next one."

"So write something completely different," said Niall with a shrug.

"But people want the next one. You just asked me about the next one."

"Well, yeah, but screw what I want. Write what you want to write."

"Yeah," Cohen leaned on his fist, staring out at the rain. "It's easy when you say it like that."

*~*~*

Niall carried Cohen's luggage into the house for him, much to Cohen's never-ending thanks. They made a mad dash for the house and managed to get in without drowning. Cohen stood shivering on the porch while Niall hurriedly unlocked the door.

It was blissfully warm and dry inside, but Cohen barely noticed that, too preoccupied with the contents of the house.

"What is all this stuff?" he asked, turning in circles and staring at the rows and rows of strings hanging from the ceiling and walls. They were draped over openings and doorways, lined under windows, even along the floor on either side of the hallway, and from all of them hung all manner of strange things. Dried plants mostly, and roots and beads and unlit candles. The smell of them was at the same time musky and delicious, and Cohen almost felt light-headed.

"Well," said Niall, once again looking a little sheepish as he locked the door and tied a string of beads across the entrance. "I'm sort of a witch."

"You're sort of a witch," repeated Cohen, gawking at Niall. He didn't know whether to be impressed or terrified or strangely turned on. "I'm Jewish, you know."

Niall bit his lip, looking just a little bit wicked. "Are you going to stone me?"

"No, we don't do that anymore," said Cohen, looking around the house again, distracted. "What's it all for?"

"Protection, mostly. Good luck, that sort of thing."

"It's a little extreme isn't it?" Cohen glanced at Niall, who was still looking a little guilty.

"Suppose so. Now you see why I don't entertain much. Kitchen's this way."

It was a small house, only one storey high, and Cohen could only see a few rooms down the hall. The kitchen and the sitting room were only one room. The floor was linoleum, the carpet old, and the wallpaper was peeling. Despite all that, it was warm and comfortable. Niall turned on the dim light and lit a few candles. He opened the blinds in the sitting room to reveal large bay windows, currently assaulted by the heavy rain, and closed them again with a
tsk
.

"No service," he said, tossing a sleek cordless phone to Cohen. It seemed strangely out of place amongst the aged browns and greens of the decor. "You can try to call your lawyer on that though."

"Thanks." Cohen sat on the ageing couch, undid the laces on his now soaked trainers and pulled them off before he dialled Sandy's number. It rang five times, then went to voicemail. He left Sandy a message explaining what had happened and requesting she call him back. Then there was nothing else to do. "Are you sure you're all right with me staying here?" he asked Niall.

"It's not a problem at all," Niall assured him. "Just let me get changed and make up the spare room."

He left, and Cohen called Halley to let her know what had happened.

"Oh Cohen, good! Mam was starting to get worried! Is everything all right?"

"Sort of." Cohen leaned back on the couch, allowing himself to relax for the first time since the rain had started. "Sandy never showed up at the station, though."

"What? Where are you then?"

Cohen explained everything to her as Niall came back into the room. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a light t-shirt. His body looked amazing underneath it, and Cohen almost forgot what he was saying to Halley.

"You mean you got into a car with a man you don't know, and now you're at his
house
?" Halley was nearly whispering. "That is
so
not safe! What am I supposed to tell Mam and Dad?"

"That I'm
fine,
Halley, just tell them a nice man is letting me stay with him."

"Cohen, just because you're a guy now, doesn't mean it's safe to go home with strange men. And anyway, what if he knows who you are, and he knows that you're really—" Cohen flinched, and it was almost as if Halley could hear it over the phone. "I'm sorry, but why do you have to make us worry about you?"

"It's not really my fault," said Cohen, a little crosser than he wanted to be. "I did have everything planned out, things just... went wrong. Anyway, I can't go through life not trusting anybody."

"You're just stupidly optimistic, is all," said Halley, sighing. "All right, I'll tell Mam and Dad you're fine, and
call me
in the morning, and tell this bloke you're staying with that you're going to, okay?"

"I will, okay?"

"What's he like anyway? Is he old?"

"What? No."

"Is he, you know, hot?"

"Uhm." Cohen cleared his throat. "He's in the room."

"Oh!" Halley giggled. "Okay then, fine, I'll leave you to that. And call me when you get to your place, all right?"

"I will, I'll call you in the morning, and I'll call you when I've got to the Coughton, and also when I've brushed my teeth. I'll be fine, Halley."

"Well, you're my little sis—" She cut off with an intake of breath and Cohen flinched violently. Niall who had gone into the kitchen to put the kettle on, glanced at Cohen, looking concerned.

It's okay
, Cohen mouthed at him. The line was silent.

"I'm really sorry," said Halley, sounding wretched. "Cohen, I'm really sorry, okay? I just forgot."

"I know." Cohen nodded, trying to breathe. "It's fine, really Halley. I appreciate that you're trying."

"I am trying," she said. "Really, I am."

Niall took a step into the living room. "Do you want me to go?"" he asked, and Cohen shook his head.

"It's okay." Cohen forced a smile into his voice. "You're
my
sister, so I can't be mad at you."

"Yeah, right." Halley gave a forced laugh. "Okay,
call
me tomorrow, kid. You hear me?"

"I will," he said. "I promise."

"G'night little brother."

"Goodnight."

He hung up the phone, leaning back against the couch and breathing slowly. His tolerance for being misgendered had gone down now that it wasn't happening all the time. When it had happened all the time, it had just been like a slow burning, unidentifiable sickness. Now every 'he' was a relief, and every 'she' and 'sister,' every mention of his birth name was like a punch to the gut. He hated it.

"Are you okay?" asked Niall, looking concerned as he pulled a couple of mugs from the cupboard and began to make tea. "What happened?"

"Just..." Cohen put a hand to his face. "I can't really explain. Nothing, really. She's worried about me, of course. Spending the night with a strange man."

"I am a bit strange," said Niall, glancing at his magical mobiles. He sounded a little sad about that. Wistful.

"I don't think you are," said Cohen. "Anyway, we're all a bit strange, right? It's fashionable these days."

That brought a laugh from Niall. "I'll make you dinner," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm a vegetarian, so you might not like anything I have."

"Ah." Cohen fretted. He wished he wasn't such a picky eater. "Vegetarian sounds good?"

"You say that now," said Niall with a laugh. "Oh, cream or sugar?"

"Both please," said Cohen. "Why are you a vegetarian?" he asked, turning to watch Niall as he left the tea to steep and produced a package of tofu and some vegetables from the fridge. "Is it like a health thing? I mean, you look pretty fit." He flushed, wishing he could eat his words for dinner. "I mean you look
healthy.
You know what? Just ignore everything I say for the rest of the night."

Niall laughed as he turned the stove on and poured a bottle of dark sauce into a pan. "I could probably get in better shape if I ate meat," he admitted. "It's hard to put on weight eating tofu but," he paused, wrestling momentarily with the package. "I just can't. I'm a big softie, I suppose, and once you really look into what they do to the animals..." He smiled, glancing at Cohen. "Well, I won't go into it."

"I suppose it's just one of those things," said Cohen, trying desperately to be tactful. "I don't really like to think about it, because if I did I'd have to stop eating meat."

"Mm." Niall paused again, returning to the fridge to grab a clove of garlic. "Everyone has different things. You know, things you ignore because if you let yourself feel guilty, or... or angry about every little thing that you should..."

"It would kill you," finished Cohen. "But everyone's got a few things they can't ignore, right? Causes."

"Don't know if tofu is a cause," chuckled Niall, and Cohen laughed. Niall finished making the tea and tossed the bags in the bin, bringing Cohen's mug into the living room for him. "So what's yours? Your cause, I mean."

Cohen took a sip of his tea, thinking. "Suppose like LGBT stuff," he said. "It's hard to ignore when you are, you know..."

"I don't know about that." Niall left the food to simmer in the pan, coming to sit next to Cohen with his tea. "I've pretty much managed to, but I don't suppose I've ever really had to come out to anyone."

Cohen's heart nearly leapt into his throat at the prospect of Niall being gay, but he forced it down quickly. There was a bit of bile rising in his throat, and that constant doubtful voice eating away at him.

"Are you okay?" asked Niall. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," said Cohen. "Sorry. Just..." He tried to force his heartbeat down, to no avail. There was no way to explain it really. "Another thing I can't talk about."

Niall was quiet for a moment. "Can't talk about or don't want to talk about? Because you don't need to censor yourself. I promise I won't be, like, weirded out or anything. I like to hear... about people. I didn't get a lot of contact with people for a long time when I was younger."

"It's just..." Cohen rubbed his face, wondering how to explain what he was feeling, or if he even wanted to. "It's stupid, it's got nothing to do with what we were talking about, really." Well, that was a lie. But he didn't want to explain the connection to Niall. He took another sip of his tea, thinking, and then blurted out, "You ever feel like no one will ever want to be with you? Like because of the choices you made, out of necessity even, you're destined to be alone forever?"

The words hung heavy in the air. Cohen flinched at himself. He hadn't meant it to come out so depressing.

Niall nodded though. "Yeah," he said. "You think because you're transitioning that no one will want to be with you?"

"Well," Cohen leaned back on the couch, surprised by Niall's straightforwardness. "I guess I do. I mean, I know bi people exist, and plenty of trans people have partners, I
know
that, but I can't help feeling like anyone who likes girls won't like how I look, and anyone who likes boys won't like how I... ah." He blushed. "This is about to get a bit explicit, I think I should stop."

"I think," said Niall, setting his tea down on the coffee table and leaning closer to Cohen, "That if you're going to date someone, you should date someone who likes boys."

"That'd certainly be better for my mental health," agreed Cohen, sighing. "But I... I can't help feeling they'd be disappointed."

"I don't think you're giving us enough credit," said Niall with a small smile. "We care about more than just cocks, you know."

Cohen laughed and bit his lip against what he wanted to say, which was
why would any man want me?
"Thanks," he said instead. "See, you've done your part to fight stereotypes about gay men."

"Fighting for the cause," laughed Niall and he got up again to check the food. The couch shifted as he stood, and Cohen felt, stupidly, like they'd just had a rather intimate moment. Spoiled a bit by his awkwardness, of course, but what wasn't?

"I've made you a stir fry," said Niall. "It isn't amazing, but it's weeknight cooking, what can I say?"

"Where do you work?" asked Cohen, getting up to bring the tea mugs to the table.

"Just the little corner shop in town." Niall plated the dinner expertly, and placed it in front of Cohen, who looked at it dubiously. "It's a job."

"Did you grow up in town?" asked Cohen, and Niall shook his head, spearing a piece of tofu on his fork and eating quickly. "So, why did you move here then?"

Niall took another bite and was quiet as he chewed. Cohen dutifully copied him, taking a bite out of a pepper. Niall had cooked the vegetables and tofu in a teriyaki and garlic sauce which made it surprisingly tolerable.

"Actually, I just came here to get away, same as you," said Niall finally, getting up to procure a jug of water and glasses. "I only moved here a few months ago," he explained, sitting down and pouring the water. "I think I mentioned the locals haven't warmed to me yet. So, are you going to get a lot of writing done at the Coughton?"

Cohen blinked, surprised at how quickly Niall had turned the conversation back to him. Usually that was Cohen's tactic. "I
hope
so. I want to write my next book."

"Hmm." Niall took another bite of tofu. "I hope you write a new book."

"I thought you wanted me to finish the series!"

"I changed my mind. I'm allowed to change my mind."

"Right," said Cohen. "Well, I have a contract for the next one and I do have to make money eventually."

"That's not very artistic of you," said Niall.

"Oh, shut up!" Cohen couldn't help but laugh. Niall was pushing his buttons, but it felt more like flirting than teasing. At least, he hoped it was. "You're so rude! You're the rudest person I've ever imposed on and made feed me dinner."

"I imagine so," laughed Niall. "So, if you just give me a moment to clear out the spare bedroom after this, you can sleep in there."