The House On Sheridan Street

Chapter One When the car drew up outside 1213 Sheridan Street, a placard-waving crowd already lined the damp sidewalk, splotches of color against the gray of the day. A Torquere Press Arcana - 1

Gale Solomon stubbed out his cigarette in the Mercedes’ ashtray and turned to his PA.

“How long have they been here?”

Ben Miller tapped away at the keypad of a tiny PDA and didn’t look up. “Since Tuesday.”

Gale grimaced, glancing out of the window. A glance was more than enough. Who the hell had

lives where they could find nothing more productive to do on a rainy Friday morning than disrupt his work and piss him off? One large woman in sweatpants waved a sign proclaiming, “Save Old Sheridan!” right in the window, and even though he knew she couldn’t see past the tinted glass, Gale recoiled. In his defense, he suspected it had more to do with the sagging, melon-sized breasts pushed up against the glass than any threat she might pose. They flattened against the window through a damp T-shirt that might once have been white but now looked ill. If he wasn’t gay already, that image seared on his retinas would have been enough to change Gale’s orientation in a heartbeat. Ben paid no attention, still tapping away at the organizer, planning every last second of Gale’s

day, and the food the housekeeper would leave him when he got home.

Pity Ben was straight; he’d have made a good little wife.

“Why won’t the police move them on?”

“Peaceful demonstration.” Ben shrugged. “I guess the housewives and grandmas need something

to do with their day besides watching television. Unless they damage something, we’re on our

own.”

“How did they find out we were coming here today?”

“Well, I didn’t tell them.” Ben managed to sound affronted even while remaining oblivious.

“Someone probably went digging, found out what we were planning. It’s not rocket science.”

Gale frowned. “Or it’s that damn kid again.”

He scanned the crowd as though he had the first idea what said kid looked like. He knew the

kid’s voice from the countless times the brat had called the office, but hell if he was going to

open the car windows and listen. Who knew what the idiots outside might throw into the car?

“Can’t see it.” Ben mused. “Doesn’t he realize how much this would jeopardize his cause?”

Gale turned back to the window, watching the reflection of his grin in the darkened glass.

“Oh, that’s what I’m counting on.”

Admittedly, he’d been slightly disconcerted when a young man claiming to be Nathan Oakley --

A Torquere Press Arcana - 2

long lost grandson of the late Mrs. Oakley -- called the office, telling Gale’s company that he would be instigating a legal challenge to the ownership of his grandmother’s estate. 1213 Sheridan Street. The kid -- he’d sounded about sixteen on the phone -- didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. Old Mrs. Oakley had no living relatives, and when she’d passed away a few months ago, the house was all she had to her name. Once all the debts had been settled and creditors had been paid the house reverted to the state. The house was a dilapidated Victorian monstrosity, overgrown and unkempt, the ugly shack at the corner of an up-and-coming neighborhood. Once it came on the market, part of an urban renewal plan, all the land developers tripped over their tongues to get a piece of it. Curb appeal was zero, but Gale latched onto the potential and refused to let go until the property was his. Land was at such a premium, and with building permits for a luxury five-apartment block in place, the little parcel of land was a gold-mine. Nathan Oakley, even if he was who he claimed to be, had shown up too late. Nothing more or less to it than that. Gale was running a business not a charity. “Would you like me to rearrange the meeting?” Ben asked mildly. “I’m sure the contractor won’t mind coming back once we’ve cleared them out.” “Are you kidding?” Gale leaned back in his seat, resisting the urge to crack his knuckles. “It’s better they learn now that we’re not going to back down.” He reached for an umbrella, flashed Ben a grin. “Might not need to call the cops in at all.” Wishful thinking, Gale supposed. Some mobs dispersed as soon as they realized their protests fell on deaf ears, defeated purely by the lack of attention. Like a myth, if they didn’t exist to those they sought to affect, they were rendered powerless. Somehow, he thought this group had more staying power than that. It was bad enough dealing with Nathan Oakley; the local residents and their demands were a nuisance he certainly didn’t need. The volume cranked up several notches when he exited the car, opening the umbrella as much as a shield from the crowd as one from the rain. Placards rattled, and the pelting rain did little to wash away the scent of trash, a rotting front yard, and unkempt humanity. Damage, Ben said. Gale wondered if damage by way of sheer offense to his eyes, nose and ears would count. "Save Old Sheridan!" "Conservation not cash!"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 3

Gale rolled his eyes. Conservation and "saving" things was all well and good. He'd sell the house to the local historic society and then what? They'd have their cutesy little heritage museum, maybe get a page in some academic journal detailing the significance of turn-of-the-century window frames, and that'd be it. No regeneration, no investment, no progress. No future. Gale happened to believe the future mattered a hell of a lot more than the past. He made it to the gap in the broken fence where a gate hung loosely against the wall, before failure finally came. Brushing the rain off the sleeves of his expensive black trench-coat, he looked back at a suspiciously still Ben. “What?” "You got the keys back from the contractor, right?" Ben asked. Gale could have sworn the din on the sidewalk got louder. "We decided to pick them up at today's meeting, didn't we?" Ben swore softly. Hah, it seemed all the answers to life's questions weren't squirreled away in that PDA. Ben stared up at the canopy of his own umbrella, before looking at Gale with an expression that suggested the fault was with his boss. "They're not here yet." "I can see that." Gale glanced at his watch. "Go make the call, find out what's keeping them. I'm already putting up with release day at the local madhouse." He tilted his head in the direction of the crowd, mercifully on the other side of the old rickety fence. "I'm leaving them here to deal with it themselves if they aren't here in ten minutes." Ben glanced back at the crowd, evidently weighing up his options: the angry, badly-dressed mob, or Gale's wrath. After a moment's deliberation, he fished the cell phone from his pocket, stalking off back down the sidewalk to get away from the cacophony. Half the mob looked as though they decided to follow him. Gale shook his head, smiling to himself. Ben would make a damn high-maintenance wife. Leaning against the stone gatepost, the only thing on the entire plot that seemed solid, Gale looked up at the house from beneath his umbrella, wondering if those people out on the sidewalk saw this old place the same way. The fantasy of it was tempting, but the reality would involve a lot of headaches and nights sleeping on the couch. You're comparing a house to your love-life, a little voice in the back of his head said helpfully. You need to get laid. Badly. He turned, twisting the umbrella around to avoid hitting the gate post, instead snagging it on something that felt softer, and complained with a mild, "Ow."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 4

Great. He'd injured a protester. More ammunition for the bastards… "Sorry." The apology wasn't much of one as he turned around to survey the damage. "No harm done." His victim brushed himself off, graceful long-fingered hands immediately mesmerizing Gale as they combed self-consciously through hair turned dark-gold by the rain. "I wasn't really paying attention." Gale blinked, staring up at the man in front of him. At least a head taller than him, broad shoulders beneath that shapeless sweater tapering down to slim hips in equally tatty jeans. Smiling hesitantly, the man watched him, unnervingly intense blue eyes magnified by thick, ugly glasses that made Gale want to buy this guy contact lenses as a matter of urgency. "No, I should have been more careful." Funny how a pretty face could make him uncharacteristically ready to admit an error. He propped the umbrella against one shoulder and extended a hand. "Accept my apology?" The man smiled, those fine-boned hands proving to be a stronger handshake than Gale would have believed, sending his imagination into overdrive. "Sure." Letting his fingers linger a second longer than necessary, pleased that the man didn't seem perturbed by that, Gale tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing the best thing to cross his path in days. A few years older than him, he suspected, but that was fine. Gale was done with loud obnoxious nineteen year olds. Of course he was sizing up a complete stranger. Who wouldn't? When Gale saw something he wanted, be it an addition to his portfolio or an addition to his bedroom, he went for it. He couldn't understand anyone who thought differently. Still, there was something about the dishevelled, scruffy professor look that made Gale nervous. "Are you here with them?" He glanced at the sign-waving morass. The guy followed his gaze, and to Gale's desperate relief, shook his head. "Oh, no. I mean, I can see their point I guess -- no offense, if you're working here -- but sometimes it's sad seeing all these old houses disappear." The man leaned against the other side of the gatepost, seemingly relaxed about getting into Gale's personal space. "None taken." He shrugged. "Yeah I'm working here, but the way I see it, it can either be a waste of space collecting dust, or it can be a home for several people." "Don't you wonder, though?" The man looked up at the house, unsheltered from the rain. While he admired the house, Gale admired him, following the strong jaw line to the man's collar, where the unkempt ends of dark blond hair curled against rain-damp skin.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 5

Maybe his day was taking a turn for the better.

"Wonder what?" How it might taste to lick that rain away? Bad, Gale. Bad.

"Who used to live here?" The man flashed a shy smile, as though the thought was criminal

instead of just whimsical. "What their lives were like, who they were, what happened here…?"

"No," Gale said. "It's land, not a family album."

"I guess." The man's smile faltered for a moment, something like yearning flickering in his eyes,

and all Gale wanted to do was apologize again even though this time he wasn't sure what kind of

injury he'd inflicted.

"Most of the time we only come in when the property's been standing empty for a long time." It

wasn't his nature to explain himself, but it wasn't in his nature to apologize either. He really did

need to get laid. "We have no ties with anyone directly linked to the property, so it never really

comes up."

"That makes sense." The man nodded, brightening. "Hey, if you're working here maybe you can

help me. I'm looking--"

"Gale." Ben's clipped tones interrupted, and Gale had the urge to smack his PA with the

umbrella. "They're about five minutes away, they thought we were at 1312 Sheridan Street."

"Great." Gale rolled his eyes. "And we're working with these idiots because?"

"Because while they can't read maps, they have a quick and economical turnaround," Ben said,

missing the sarcasm.

Gale raised a brow. "Thanks for that."

The man looked at him, but the openness in his eyes had turned to wariness. "Gale Solomon?"

Gale hesitated. If this guy wasn't a protester, then why the hell would he know Gale's name? He

didn't have the opportunity to worry too much about it as the man smiled again, the expression tight. "Wow, what a coincidence, I was hoping to run into you today, Mr. Solomon."

Feeling the pieces click into place -- the words, the tone, the damn questions -- Gale stepped

back from the gatepost as if he'd suddenly realized it was as tumble-down as the rest of the place.

He had to ask. He doubted he’d believe it otherwise. “Nathan Oakley?”

The man smiled again, nodded. “I’m glad you remember me, Mr. Solomon.”

A Torquere Press Arcana - 6

Not quite, Gale thought, pushing aside the surprise and the distinct flare of disappointment. That soft, politely shy voice had a hell of a lot to answer for. Gale hadn't linked it up to the man standing in front of him, despite hearing the damn voice in his sleep. Flirting with the saggy-breasted woman with the placard would have been a step up on this. Flirting with the guy who'd been harassing him and his staff over this damn house, playing right into his hands with his damned questions… Gale didn't do bad decisions. He certainly didn't enjoy dealing with them. Backing up from the gate, shaking off the water from the umbrella, he turned brusquely for the house. The sooner he could pretend none of this had happened, the better. “I’d love to stay and talk some more, Mr. Oakley, but as you can see we’re in the middle of some business here. So, if you’ll excuse me--” “This is important.” Schooling his hands not to reach up to either massage his temples or wring Nathan Oakley’s scruffy, pretty neck, Gale took a breath. Hell, all those shrink sessions promoting calm and wellbeing had to count for something. If he couldn’t brush off some puppy-dog imploring by a man Gale was growing convinced was attempting to manipulate this all to his own ends, he wanted his money back. He reached in to his jacket pocket, producing a business card. “If you need to speak to me about this, then feel free to make an appointment with my secretary.” He turned around and pressed the card into Nathan’s hand, ignoring the shiver that ran up his arm at the merest contact. “I’m sure we can fit you in.” In his fantasies, he was handing Nathan a card with his cell phone number on the back, smiling seductively and saying “call me”. In his fantasies, he was about as hopeless as he was in reality. Gale Solomon: flawless in business, a disaster in his personal life. If it were happening to someone else he'd be busting a gut laughing. Nathan took the card, staring at is as though it was an alien life form. “I already have your number, I just--” “Make an appointment, Mr. Oakley.” Gale turned back to the house, glancing over his shoulder. “Though we have nothing to discuss.” “I think we do.” Nathan met his gaze, eyes narrowing slightly behind those horrific glasses. “My grandmother’s house, Mr. Solomon.” “You mean my legally purchased property, Mr. Oakley.” Gale forced a smile, meeting that look with a glare of his own. “If you insist on pursing this ridiculous matter of yours, I suggest you consult a lawyer before bothering me again, do you understand? Get them to tell you you’re

A Torquere Press Arcana - 7

screwed, because you don’t seem to believe me.” And he wouldn't, Gale could see that. He could tell Nathan that the sky was blue beyond the gray murk of rain cloud, and Nathan would argue him into the ground out of sheer irrational disbelief. A mentality after his own heart… Striding down the cracked, uneven path toward the front door, Gale left the rain and Nathan Oakley's determined stare behind him.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 8

Chapter Two "So, they think another floor is possible without compromising the design. Extra parking would eat into the landscaping, but people care about space for their cars, not about hibiscus and water features." Around them, the office buzzed with quiet efficiency, like the background hum of a refrigerator - only really noticeable when it stopped. The designer had planned the entire floor to maximum effect, taking advantage of the natural light and making an unnatural effort to accommodate Gale's demands that he didn't want to hear so much as one ringing phone or one tap of a keyboard from his own office. Ben kept talking, but Gale wasn’t listening. His thoughts drifted back to the encounter with Nathan Oakley. He’d built up his business and his reputation on judgment and perception. He could second guess the figure at which a buyer or a contractor would eventually break. He could see past the most hideous houses and land plots, and envision the beauty of it when it was done. Depending on the meetings lined up for that day, he knew what color tie Ben would wear. Even when Sheridan Street came up for sale, he’d tempered his desire for the property. Before finalizing his offer, he set his own people to work digging up Mrs. Oakley’s past, precisely to avoid complications like this. So it begged the question -- if Nathan Oakley wasn’t Mrs. Oakley’s long lost and immaculately conceived grandson, who the hell was he? The documents Ben placed on his desk looked as if they’d been written in hieroglyphics. Gale massaged the bridge of his nose and pushed the sheaf of papers away. “Gale--” “Run another check on the Oakley family. I want to see if there’s anyone we missed.” Ben made a face. “You still think that man’s serious?” Man, not a kid anymore, not since Gale had laid eyes on him. He’d scrub up well, but it was hardly the best impression to make on someone you wanted to swindle of out a piece of land conceivably worth millions in the long term. “No,” he answered. “But if he does decide to continue this stupid game of his, then I want to go in armed. Check the family history again. Dirt on the daughter would be good.” “Fine.” Ben shook his head. “I’d really prefer you paid this much attention to the contractor’s plans though. We need to alter the planning permit if they want to add another floor.”

A Torquere Press Arcana - 9

Gale dragged himself back to the conversation. They spent the next hour discussing the architect’s plans, the construction company’s gripes, and the inevitable complaints by the local protesters. He had no intention of thinking of Nathan Oakley again that afternoon. He might have managed it, were it not for the phone call that came at precisely five fifty-nine. One more minute and Gale would have been out of the door. Somehow he knew who it’d be even before he clicked the answer button on the machine. “Solomon.” “Mr. Solomon, I’m glad I caught you.” Oh, I bet you are. “I thought I told you not to bother me again unless you had a lawyer, Mr. Oakley. Am I to

understand you’ve got one on the payroll now?”

“Ah, I don’t think that’ll be possible,” Nathan said.

Ah-ha, Gale thought, smug.

“I can’t afford one right now.”

Well, Gale supposed that if Nathan couldn’t even afford a new sweater, asking for a probate

lawyer was probably stretching it. When he thought Nathan was a scrappy kid it was excusable.

For a man closer to thirty than thirteen and a half, Oakley should know better.

“In that case, Mr. Oakley, you’re wasting my time and yours. Goodnight, and--”

“Wait! Please…”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Mr. Oakley.” Gale let out an exasperated sigh. “The state failed to

find any living relatives, and the sale was legitimate. If you’re having trouble with legal representation, then you can’t afford to buy me out.” “Can I at least talk to you?”

Gale squeezed his eyes shut as if Nathan’s demands were some kind of bogeyman he could just

pretend didn’t exist: stick his fingers in his ears and sing and hopefully Oakley would go away.

“We are talking. There’s nothing to talk about. Please stop calling, stop harassing my staff.

Unless you have proof or a check, I don’t want to hear from you again.”

“Please.”

A Torquere Press Arcana - 10

Gale had gotten this far in business because of his good judgment. Great judgment. He knew the right properties to snap up, the right locations, the right deal makers. And now that judgment was going out of the window. No, no quite. Curiosity and a healthy dose of suspicion held it in. Nathan Oakley wasn’t the legitimate or mystery heir to 1213 Sheridan Street. Gale knew that. But who else could he be, and what reason would he have to sabotage this project? “I’ll be at the office for another half hour,” he said. “If you’re not here by then, don’t bother calling again.” He didn’t wait for Nathan’s reply, clicking off the phone and dropping into the nearby swivel chair with a heavy sigh. The chair wheeled back across the floor, knocking over a trash can full of papers. Fantastic… Picking up the scattered papers, and retrieving a perfectly good corporate notepad someone had seen fit to throw out like it was useless, he found a pen to occupy his mind while he waited. The doodles of squares and squiggles and curlicues eventually became a scrawl of Nathan's name, surrounded by a dozen question marks. Better than their initials surrounded by a heart, Gale chuckled to himself. If he really believed in the concept of a fate or luck you didn't make for yourself, he'd wonder who he'd pissed off in the cosmos. Organized, dutiful, loyal Ben: straight. Pretty, mysterious Nathan: deluded scam artist out to steal his house and land and money right from under him. Seriously. He needed to get out more. Nathan showed up with two minutes of his allotted thirty remaining. Gale couldn't deny that he'd wished Nathan would miss the deadline entirely, and he could leave with a clear conscience. Nathan didn't look any better -- in clothing choice, at least -- than he had that morning. Bang went Gale's hopes Oakley had found a decent tailor in the past few hours. If Nathan really was some scam artist, and Gale admitted it was looking more and more remote by the minute, he was going about it in the most incriminating way Gale could imagine. He didn't get up as Nathan entered the office, looking around as if finally putting a view to the voices. Perhaps Nathan had been expecting oak panels and ficus, and the glass and chrome design didn't appeal. Either way, he looked put off. Good. Just how Gale liked it.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 11

He gestured for Nathan to sit. "Start talking." Nathan hesitated before taking a seat, hands clasping and unclasping in his lap, looking like a door-to-door salesman who'd just been told “sure, come on in!” Gale shook his head. It wasn't wise, being so swayed by what might very well be a routine as practiced as those salesmen. "If you're who you say you are, why didn't anyone trace you?" He tapped the pen on the notepad, keeping the rhythm at a discordant beat with his words. "Believe me, we looked. I don't like things like this turning up and screwing with my projects. Assuming for a second you aren't full of bullshit, where were you all this time?" "Indiana." Nathan smiled a little. Gale wasn't sure if that admission was anything to smile about. "I came out east when…" He let the words trail off, but Gale wouldn't let him off as easily, finishing the rather mercenary thought for Oakley. "When you heard you might be in line for some cash." Gale made it a statement, doodling a dollar sign on the cluttered notepad. He needed to reinforce that mercenary image, because the other one -- Nathan arriving in the big bad city with a suitcase and a prayer like little Orphan Annie -- wasn't one to dwell on. "Here." Nathan rooted around in his pockets, shoving a yellowed, faded envelope across the desk. "That's all I know." Gale reached for the envelope as if Nathan just dropped a rabid piranha on the desk. Hell, for all the damage the contents of that old letter could do, it might as well be. The address, scrawled in spidery handwriting and barely legible, was for the attention of Mrs. Elizabeth Oakley, 1213 Sheridan St. Great judgement, Gale. The best. Nathan remained silent as Gale read the short note inside the battered envelope, dated July, 1976. Bracing himself for just about anything, up to and including a family tree with added diagrams, Gale scanned the sparse lines. The return address was some Indiana town he'd never heard of, and the contents were as innocuous as a grocery list. Just a woman called Sarah McIntyre inquiring as to Mrs. Oakley's general well-being, and informing her that everything was well with her during her vacation. "Who's Sarah McIntyre?" "I don't know." “And you think this--" Gale tapped on the envelope "--is important, why?"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 12

Nathan met his gaze, those blue eyes intense and sharp behind the unflattering glasses. "My mom didn't leave me a whole lot, Mr. Solomon." He smiled a little, tapping the side of the glasses. "Just crappy eyesight, a couple hundred bucks," he pointed at the letter, "and that. I never knew why it mattered so much to her that I keep it, but my dad told me it belonged to my grandmother. When he found out Mrs. Oakley died…well, we both thought it’d be good to find out what happened to that side of the family, you know?" Something about that smile, the self-deprecation of it, set off worrying little flutters in Gale's chest. Honestly, heart problems would be less of an issue than the suspicion he was beginning to get far too involved with Nathan's crazy family and disjointed story. Pretty eyes and a knowing smile wouldn't change anything. Gale had a business to run, and even if he didn’t, he knew little more than Nathan about the Oakleys. "I can't help you," he said. "We know for a fact that the only offspring Mrs. Oakley had killed herself in the seventies. Without getting married or having kids. Nothing you're telling me came up in any of the paper trails. I'm sorry." Nathan watched him, and Gale could almost hear the contemplation going on behind those mesmerizing eyes. "I won't lie, Mr. Solomon--" "That'll be nice." Nathan ignored him, and Gale found himself feeling a modicum more respect for that. "Yeah, the inheritance matters. But so does knowing the truth." Gale sighed, leaning back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling until the halogen spotlights left dark imprints fading on his retinas. "I'm just the land developer, okay? I'm not a therapist and I'm not a private investigator. I don't know these people, and I really don't give a shit about their little family dramas. If I did that over every damn house I bought and demolished, I'd go insane." "Can I at least go and see the house?" "It's been cleared out," Gale said. "There's nothing left you can rifle through." "That doesn't matter." The rain had stalled, but the early evening was still a murky pale gray outside the floor-to-ceiling office windows. Raindrops clung to the glass like diamonds hung out to dry. Gale sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're basing all this on a letter and a suspicion?"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 13

Nathan smiled slightly. "Pretty much. Look, I wouldn't waste anyone's time if I didn't think there was something to all this." Gale wasn't sure what was worse, that Nathan had embarked on this ridiculous quest with such tenuous information -- and dragged Gale into it, to boot -- or that he was actually considering catering to it. He stood, picking up the keys Ben had left on his desk-- "in case you forget them again tomorrow" -- and his coat. If a little tour of a ramshackle house would smack some sanity into Nathan, Gale was all for it. The pretty ones are always crazy… "Fine," he said. "Let's go."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 14

Chapter Three Twilight didn’t do much to improve 1213 Sheridan Street’s appeal. With long, gloomy shadows and water dripping down the broken siding, it looked like something from a bad black and white B-movie. Nathan hated the idea of tearing the place down only to replace it with identi-kit boxes, but even he couldn’t deny that it was one hell of an acquired taste. Even if Gale was thinking of selling, no one in their right minds would want to live here. “So.” Gale’s whisky-dry tone cut through his thoughts like a scythe through corn. “Ringing any bells yet?” Despite the snarky question, Gale still held the wobbly wrought-iron gate open for Nathan. Nathan let it close quietly behind him as he followed Gale up the path, avoiding broken flagstones and the roots of bushes that had burrowed through the old cement. “First time I saw it was a day before I called you.” Nathan smiled slightly. “I’ve never been inside 'til now.” “Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. Smells like something died in there and it looks even worse.” “Still…” “Christ…” Gale glanced back at him, shaking his head before continuing on with unlocking the door. Nathan didn’t quite see the point of a lock when one good kick would likely bring the entire gothic styled porch down around their ears. “Just don’t let your little reminiscing party take all night, okay? I’m a busy man.” Gale pushed open the door, the darkness behind looking like the welcome mat for hell. “I’m also an idiot for letting you do this in the first place.” So why did you, Nathan wanted to ask, but thought better of it. He’d already gotten far more out of Gale Solomon than he’d thought possible from their phone conversations. Granted he didn’t know what property developers generally looked like, but he’d have struck up a face-to-face conversation earlier if he’d known that was the best way to get Gale’s attention. That his main obstacle to an easy life spent the first ten minutes of their acquaintance subtly flirting with him certainly made Nathan’s task a lot easier. The dim light barely reflected through the grime-encrusted stained glass panes of the door, and when it closed behind them with a haunted-house creak, Nathan’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom. The oak-paneled hallway leeched away all available light, like a cracked and peeling black hole.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 15

“Welcome to the Ritz,” Gale said, walking ahead of him and opening a couple of the doors to let scant light in. Nathan couldn’t help smiling; it wasn’t just the house that was an acquired taste. It wasn’t that Nathan believed Gale was the bad guy. He was only doing his job, and if not him then it could have been countless other developers in the city. Nathan wouldn’t have had the first clue how to deal with Gale, were it not for that one lucky break. Gale wanted him badly enough to go against all better judgment. And while Gale wouldn’t be happy to know Nathan was dealing with facts that were ropey at best, that was the only tactic he had. He watched Gale, taking in the neatly-styled dark hair, the expensive coat, the cufflinks that glinted in the gloom. It was hardly a chore, after all. “Ah, it’s not that bad,” he said. Gale turned to look at him. The hallway was still dark, but Nathan could clearly make out the arch of one elegant brow. “Indiana’s that bad these days?” Gale meant nothing by it -- he couldn’t -- but Nathan was grateful for the dark. If Gale thought he kept smiling, that he was taking it lightly, then it was okay. In lieu of answering, he turned from Gale, striding forward through one of the open doors. When he looked up at the ceiling, he could see all the way to the bedroom ceiling above. Bad or not, this was all he had. “So.” He tried to keep his voice breezy, unconcerned. “Do you feel sorry enough for me to give me the great guided tour?” “I don’t feel sorry for you,” Gale folded his arms across his chest. The dark of his coat and hair made his silhouette blurry, and for one strange second Nathan couldn’t tell where the house ended and Gale began, as if one was melting into the other. “I just think you’re crazy.” “Same thing, right?” Nathan tilted his head with a smile, watching Gale square his shoulders slightly. He’d gotten Gale’s attention again. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re secretly a nice guy.” “There’s a difference between nice and professional, Mr. Oakley.” Gale scowled. “Or whatever the hell your name really is.” Nathan didn’t bother correcting Gale either way. He wasn’t one or the other anymore. When Gale gave up arguing, he was the consummate salesman. He pointed out the strange

A Torquere Press Arcana - 16

architectural oddities Nathan wouldn’t have looked twice at, made him see the potential in every room and despite the fact Gale wasn’t selling and Nathan couldn’t buy, his imagination ran away with him. They ended up in a room at the front of the house, where large bulging windows peered out into the street. The trees rustled through paper-thin windows, and the lights of the city glittered through the leaves. “This was being used as the master bedroom,” Gale said, sounding a little weary of his pitch but persevering. “The windows are still the originals. Check out the glass, you don’t get work like that these days. You’d take out the washbasin in the corner, obviously, but there’s plenty of room to add on a bathroom. And then there’s the floor, again.” He tapped one polished oxford shoe against the dark grimy boards. “Not even so much as a nick in it. Craftsmanship.” Nathan stared out of the window. “Passionate talk for a guy who’s gonna knock it down.” “We’ll build something even better.” Nathan smiled a little at that. “At least they’ll have a fantastic view.” “Think that’s a view?” Gale suddenly sounded re-energized with the conversation, a practical bounce in his step at he strode across the room, footsteps echoing. At a door Nathan hadn’t even noticed, covered with the same yellowed floral wallpaper as the rest of the room, Gale turned a handle to reveal a narrow staircase. “Come on.” Nathan followed, pausing at the door frame to wonder at the need for a hidden door. His fingers brushed against the groove in the frame near the latch, and frowning, he ran a finger over it again. “What used to be up here?” Halfway up the stairs -- and if not for the long trench coat Nathan might have believed that was the great view -- Gale glanced back, and shrugged. “Another room. Bedroom, probably. Crazy tiny, but the view alone is worth it. Why?” Nathan looked again at the groove in the frame, repainted, half-covered by the old wallpaper, around where a lock or a bolt might have been. “Ah, no reason…” Calling the room at the top of the stairs a box was a compliment. With the cost of rentals these days, the room could probably be passed off as a compact studio, but it was ten-by-ten if that. Peeling floral wallpaper, older even than the horrible décor in the bedroom beneath, revealed chipped and scratched paint-work, and the musty stale smell blurred with the damp and rot from the leaking roof. “It’s like a damn turret.” “Pretty much.” Gale strode across the bare floorboards to the small window, sending settled dust flying. “Might’ve been fun, though. Bet kids played forts and shit up here all the time.”

A Torquere Press Arcana - 17

Nathan looked at him. “I thought you didn’t think about the families?”

Gale shrugged. “I don’t. I think about what I’d have liked to do. Growing up in a generic

suburban box’ll do that to you.”

Gale didn’t look very generic suburban to Nathan, but then what did he know?

“So why not just renovate?” he asked

“Not cost effective.”

“It’s not all about the money,” Nathan heard himself say, managing not to laugh out loud at the

utter hypocrisy of it.

“Yes, Mr. Oakley, it is.” Gale said, looking at his watch, a wariness Nathan hadn’t seen before

crossing his cat-green eyes. “Now, I have things to do. You’ve had your tour, I need to get

back.”

“Yeah.” Nathan nodded, levering himself away from the window. His gaze caught on slashes in

the flaking wood. “Hey, check this out.”

“What?” Gale let out an impatient breath.

“Look…” Nathan pointed to the childishly etched letters, K and D, separated by a heart.

Someone had stood at this window, young and enamored, and scrawled romantic names into the

windowsill. Nathan looked out of the window, feeling his breath catch.

Was it you, maybe…? “Graffiti.” Gale said. “You see it on the subway every day of the week. Let’s go.” Oddly grateful to Gale for bringing him down to earth, Nathan let his fingertips trace the letters one last time before following Gale out. “Yeah. I guess.” Dusk had settled when they left the house, though the rain had eased, leaving a cocktail of ozone and traffic smells in the air. Nathan looked back at the house, picturing someone at the tiny window high in the eaves, looking out over this street and daydreaming. "Do you need a ride somewhere?" Gale asked, closing the gate with a metallic thwack behind them, a sharp decisive sound. "No, it's fine." Nathan scrabbled for something to keep the conversation going, unwilling to let Gale leave yet. He was too close, on too much of a roll. “Look, thanks for this. I know you didn’t have to, and, well…” Come on Nathan, you’re more than capable of this. “I figure I could at

A Torquere Press Arcana - 18

least buy you a drink or something to say thanks?” Gale looked at him as though he'd suggested world domination armed with spray cheese. Nathan tried to look winsome and appealing. “No thanks.” Not appealing enough, apparently. He tried another tack, hoping he carried unassuming off better than winsome. “Listen, Gale -- can I call you Gale?” “I don’t care.” “Okay, look, you’ve made it clear there’s nothing I can do about this, right?” Nathan gestured to the house. “So I’m not asking to make you change your mind. I’m just asking because I want to.” He put as much emphasis as he dared on "want". Gale looked at him, and if the temporary acquiescence didn't matter so much to Nathan he'd have buckled beneath the assessing stare. As it was, the shrewd judgement in Gale's eyes sent little jolts of heat through Nathan's blood. They’d driven to the house in Gale’s car; Nathan didn't have his own transport, and Gale seemed unwilling to be stuck anywhere with him without a means of escape. It sat at the curb, and for a moment, when Gale turned for the car, Nathan thought the man was just going to drive off and leave him. “Fine,” Gale said, getting into the car, not standing on ceremony by opening the passenger door for Nathan. “But we’re going somewhere I choose.”

A Torquere Press Arcana - 19

Chapter Four That somewhere was a quiet little bar Gale often stopped at on his way home. Close enough to the apartment to allow him to walk it if the staff threatened to take his keys, it beat going home early. They played soft jazz, kept the lights low, and no one harassed him every five minutes wanting to know if he was enjoying his drink. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been accompanied. The minimalist decor and the clean soothing color scheme seemed a little jarring with Nathan at his side, as if his presence there was solely to disrupt Gale's comfortable life. "Nice," Nathan said, and Gale wondered how he could tell. "Sorry it's not your pool table, jukebox and trashy waitresses kind of place." Nathan laughed, taking the barb as if Gale was throwing cotton. "I don't pay a whole lot of attention to the trashy waitresses. I could kick your ass at pool, though." "No doubt." Gale chose his usual table, signalling the bartender to bring him his usual and a beer for Nathan. "You're paying, right? Seeing as it was your idea." Nathan looked up at him through thick gold lashes, only made thicker by the curve of the glasses. "Ah, well…how much is a beer in a place like this?" Despite himself, Gale chuckled. For a con-man, Nathan was probably the most upfront and inept one Gale had ever met. It was strangely endearing. "Don't worry about it. My treat." The waiter brought the drinks, nodded politely and unobtrusively, and left. Nathan watched while Gale fussed with the glass, re-folded the napkin, adjusted the placemat, and turned the elegant narrow menu to a more flattering angle. "What?" he asked, when Nathan's scrutiny began to feel warm and oppressive as a summer night. "I just don't get you." Nathan shook his head, chin resting on one hand. He'd ignored the glass the bartender provided, preferring instead to drink his beer straight from the bottle. Gale wondered how the hell expensive import beer could possibly taste good that way, but Nathan seemed to be enjoying it. It was a little alarming, admitting that was all that mattered. "What's to get?" Gale stared at his bourbon, shaking the glass slightly until the ice cubes rattled. "That you're a nice guy when you want to be." Nathan grinned, mischief sparking in his eyes like stars before he tilted his head and a shaft of light caught on the glasses and obscured the

A Torquere Press Arcana - 20

expression.

"Emphasis on ‘when I want to be’." Gale shrugged. "And you hardly know me well enough to

judge."

"Ah, I don't know." Nathan took a sip of beer, a grin in his narrowed eyes. "I've been talking to

you on the phone for weeks, that counts for something right?"

"It counts for wasting our time," Gale said pointedly. "Besides we didn't talk, you rambled and I

ignored you."

Nathan smiled, gaze shadowed in the soft lighting. "Hey, I pretended you listened."

"I don't do listening." Gale took a quick swallow of bourbon, relief chasing the warmth of the

liquor. He was no one's shrink, he'd told Nathan as much. Listening wasn't in his remit. "What

the hell did you hope to achieve?"

"I told you." Nathan looked up from his beer, gaze direct and steely as lasers. "The truth."

"And if it's not what you think it is?"

Nathan remained silent for a moment, and Gale didn't push, content instead to listen to the soft

strains of saxophone and guitar undercutting the low current of murmurs and the clink of glass.

"I'll deal with that if it happens," Nathan said after a while, more resolute than Gale would have

been in his place.

Taking another sip of his drink, Gale shook his head, a smile he couldn’t drown out curving his

lips. Tough customer, this one, however scatterbrained and sweet he seemed.

"And you don't get me…"

"Hey, I never claimed to be anything I'm not," Nathan said, and the note of defensiveness in his

voice pleased Gale immensely.

"That's debatable."

"Gale--"

"Fine, I'm sorry. Let's never talk about it again." Gale couldn't resist rendering that statement

moot. "I'd have won, anyway."

"Shyeah." Nathan smiled. "Maybe. You fight hard for a house you're gonna flatten. You hate

boxes but you go out of your way to build more and more of them."

"Boxes sell."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 21

"So they do." Nathan didn't sound convinced, and Gale wondered why he was so intent on

changing this man's perception.

"Listen, in a perfect world, I'd keep all the kooky haunted mansion houses like Sheridan Street.

But it's not."

"No…" Nathan took off his glasses, polishing them on his napkin, and Gale noticed that those eyes were a deep vivid blue even without the lenses, the lashes still a thick golden fringe. "You know, you don't look like the cynical type; it's hard to tell until someone talks to you. I didn't even notice it on the phone." "Thanks." Gale smiled wryly. "You have to be in this business." You have to be when you're me. "That's sad." Nathan set the glasses down. One hand rested loosely around the neck of the beer

bottle. "Want to talk about it?"

Gale almost choked on his drink. "No. Not particularly."

"Okay," Nathan said amicably. The hand on the beer bottle tightened a little, and the blue in his

eyes darkened again. "So, is there something else you want to do?"

The calls, the demands, the cajoling way Nathan had managed to coax Gale to show him the

house: Gale was under no illusions that Nathan could be a persistent man.

This, however, was a whole new level of upfront.

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, never mind." Nathan smiled, not quite meeting his eyes. After that searing gaze, Gale felt a

little bereft. "I just thought…"

"Well, you thought wrong." Gale took a big swallow of his bourbon, lying through his teeth.

Nathan might see right through him, but he could still deny it to the death.

"Okay," Nathan agreed.

"And even if I did," Gale nodded decisively, "you're Nathan Oakley, so I can't."

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Still frowning, he took a long sip of beer

before setting the bottle down on the table with a thwack, fingers wrapped around the neck again,

and stared at Gale as if seeing the light.

"Oh," Nathan said. "Cause of the house?"

Gale arched a brow. "You think?"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 22

"Sorry…" Nathan's attention returned to the beer bottle, fingers twisting through the droplets of condensation forming on the side of the glass. "Slow on the uptake sometimes." Gale licked his lips. Nathan brushed a thumb over the open top of the bottle. A stray drop of water snaked its way down the shoulder, and Nathan ran one finger over the edge of the label to catch it, letting it slide over his skin. The temperature at the table went up a notch or three. Nathan nullified Gale's common sense, though damn if the guy didn’t do nice things for his body. Abandoning the bourbon, Gale stood. "I'm going home." Nathan blinked, looking up. "Okay." Picking up his coat, and shrugging into it, Gale could only spare Nathan the briefest glance, oddly terrified that he'd see refusal there. Stepping away from the table, returning to chair to its neatly aligned position, he turned for the door. "Are you coming?" I damn well hope so… Nathan followed him out of the bar in silence, and the cool quiet of the parking lot tempered Gale's impatience a fraction. Even in the car, there were no words, just the soft sound of Nathan's breathing, the thunder of Gale's pulse in his head, and the images of those long fingers wrapped around the beer bottle. His apartment had never seemed so far away. When they arrived at the art deco building -- one of Gale's first projects -- his patience lasted all the way to the elevator before crumbling like an old building on demolition day. "Gale." Nathan turned to him. "I need to--" He didn't let Nathan finish, closing the distance between them, one hand curling around the nape of Nathan's neck as Gale leaned up to kiss him. Gale needed, too. Far more than he was comfortable with. He consoled himself with the thought that he was hardly kissing long-term relationship material, was he? The danger lured him, he supposed: double-crossing the con-man. Still, whoever and whatever Nathan was, his lips were soft and sweet, mouth tasting of the faintest traces of beer. His arms wrapped around Gale's waist as if they'd been made to fit, turning him around until it was Gale pinned back against the mirrored wall. One knee pressed between Gale's legs, rough denim catching against tailored pants, and Gale's fingers clenched tight on Nathan's shoulders. Drawing back briefly, lips a little puffy, Nathan grinned. "I knew I was right."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 23

Gale pressed a palm to Nathan's chest, pushing him back just in time for the elevator to reach its destination with a polite ping. "Shut up." Fingers curling into the front of Gale's coat and pulling him close again, Nathan smiled against his lips before kissing him. "Make me." That seemed as good an idea as any, surrounded as it was by a vast ocean of bad ones. Thankfully, his front door was right across the hall from the elevator. Gale managed to fumble for his keys with one hand, hanging onto Nathan with the other, still drowning in the lazy kisses that reminded Gale of summer evenings watching the sun go down. Inside the apartment, he groped blindly along the wall, finding the light switch by touch alone. The door shut behind them, but even before it shushed into the catch, Nathan's hands were under his coat, pushing it and Gale's suit jacket off his shoulders. Gale's hands tangled in Nathan's hair when Nathan's lips feathered along his jaw. "We're not disturbing anyone, right?" Nathan's words were a tickling murmur. "Not unless the housekeeper's late," Gale managed, fingers tightening to direct Nathan's attention back to what he'd been doing. "Christ, don't stop." "Housekeeper?" Nathan nipped his earlobe, palms rubbing against Gale's chest. "Nice." Nice? No. Sad. Lonely. But far better sad and lonely than the kind of hurt that came from close ties. Nathan was evidence enough of that. Gale figured he’d gotten off lightly. Nathan kissed him again, hesitance and hunger all at once. Every sweep of his tongue set Gale's senses reeling, skin flushed. His hands snaked beneath Nathan's sweater, and he growled a pleased sound against the kiss when he realized that the offending garment hid warm skin and defined muscle. No more fugly sweaters for you… His coat and suit jacket ended up in a tangled pile on the hallway floor -- he couldn't wear that coat again tomorrow without getting it pressed first -- and Nathan's sweater came off where the hallway turned for the bedroom. Gale vowed to go back later and burn the damn thing, even as he loitered outside the bedroom door, hands and mouth mapping the flawless skin of Nathan's chest. When he insinuated a thigh between Nathan's, reciprocating the ministrations in the elevator, Nathan's head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. One of the photo-frames on the wall rattled. "Shit, Gale--" The words cut off when Gale's teeth latched onto one nipple, worrying at the nub with nips and licks, until all Nathan could manage were moans and whimpers that might have been words in a

A Torquere Press Arcana - 24

previous life. Head thudding in a soft rhythm, Nathan muttered, "We gonna wake some neighbors?" Gale shook his head, lips nuzzling Nathan's collarbone. "No." "Good." Before Gale could argue -- like he really would have -- Nathan levered away from the wall, moving and pressing Gale against the opposite wall. Breath knocked out of him on a groan, anything else Gale could dredge up to say was muffled by another demanding kiss. Hands still woven in Nathan's hair, Gale just leaned back, letting Nathan unbutton his shirt. With every button, every new inch of skin exposed, Nathan followed the graze of fingers with a soft openmouthed kiss. Every rasped lick felt like electricity snapping across Gale's skin, his cock aching as it pressed against the front of his pants. "Nathan…" He didn't even know what he was pleading for, just that his body yearned for this as if he'd spent centuries starving it of all touch and contact. He blamed his body. The rest of him certainly didn't do pleading. Nathan dropped to his knees, looking up at Gale, eyes dark and heavy-lidded behind the glasses. Gale considered removing them, for all of five seconds; they were Nathan, too intrinsic a part of him to discard. Mournfully, Gale relinquished his fantasies of contact lenses. One hand pressed against the erection pushing Gale's pants taut, Nathan's kisses feathered along his stomach, finding that sensitive place that made the muscles tense and shiver. Nathan noticed, touching again, unfastening Gale's pants. Gale barely noticed, swept up in the heat and pleasure, only surfacing when Nathan's mouth wrapped around him, hot and wet as damp silk. Hallway, Gale thought dimly. They were still in the hallway when there was a huge comfortable bed just feet away. But every time Nathan moved his fingers, tightened his lips or swept his tongue along the underside of Gale's cock, he forgot a little more how to move let alone why he might want to. Gale brushed Nathan's hair from his closed eyes, watching the faint crease of concentration furrowing Nathan's brow, lashes like a gold smudge against his cheekbones. Compelled to touch, Gale ran his fingertips along Nathan's lips, tracing the mouth that engulfed him. Nathan opened his eyes, looking up at him with a dark gaze that brooked no argument. Just enjoy it, those eyes said. Don't think. Fine. Thinking just got him in trouble anyway.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 25

Blunt nails raking along the back of his thighs, from the back of his knees to the juncture of his legs, Nathan's lips kept working him, controlling the pace, allowing no room for Gale to move or thrust. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back, content to surrender and go with the flow, and-Nathan stopped, drawing back. Gale took a moment to comprehend it, resorting to bewildered breathless noises when Nathan stood, kissing him. "C'mon, Gale. Hallway?" Nathan grinned. "What do you take me for?" The most annoying, persistent, infuriating man he'd ever met came close, Gale thought, settling for a disgruntled little huff. Nathan just smiled at him again, letting Gale take his hand and lead him the short distance into the bedroom. "You're much too dressed." Gale leaned closer, nuzzling a kiss to the crook of Nathan's neck, letting his lips move to the hollow of Nathan’s throat. His hands stroked around the waist of Nathan's jeans. Nathan chuckled, a low throaty sound that Gale felt rather than heard. "So, do something about it." That sounded far too much like a challenge, and the stubborn ornery creature in Gale's soul, the one that dug its teeth into land deals like a pitbull, roused as surely as his body. Ignoring the lingering ache in his body, he unfastened Nathan's jeans, kneeling to unlace the man’s boots, throwing them off somewhere with a clatter. There wasn't much of a world outside this anymore, like the edges of the universe existed outside the warmth of Nathan's touch. He heard a soft intake of breath as he tugged Nathan's pants off, gorgeous cock rising free from its confines. Starting with one ankle, Gale brushed kisses up the inside of Nathan's leg, hands stroking powerful muscles -- not the kind of natural definition you saw on the city business suits, that was for sure. He lingered on the baby soft skin on the inside of Nathan's thighs, feeling the pleasure shudder through Nathan's body. "Gale--" Satisfied by the pleading -- satisfied it wasn't just him -- Gale braced back on the balls of his feet, tongue tracing the shadowed crease along the top of Nathan's thigh, dipping between his legs, cheek rubbing against the heavy tightened sacs. Nathan moaned through gritted teeth, and Gale shifted his attention to the other side, turning his head slightly, tongue dragging along the side of Nathan's balls. "Damn it." Nathan muttered under his breath, hands winding tight in Gale's hair, tension running taut through his body. "Damn it, damn it…" Gale smiled, nipping sharply at the inside of Nathan's thigh, hard enough to leave a red mark. One hand reached up, sliding from Nathan's chest, over his abdomen, fingertips brushing along the length of Nathan's cock.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 26

"Shit, Gale…" Gale stood, still keeping one hand wrapped around Nathan's erection, still stroking firmly as he leaned up for a kiss. Nathan granted the demand with a soft groan, lapping sweetly at Gale's lips before delving between them, the kiss slow and yearning. Backing up toward the bed, the irony wasn't lost on Gale that he was well and truly leading Nathan by the dick. With no future in it, and as curiously as Nathan looked at him, letting go now -- literally and figuratively -- would have been the kindest thing. When he did let go, it was only to climb onto the bed, turning around to reach over to the nightstand drawer. Nathan made an approving sound behind him, and, his position dawning on him, Gale arched his spine slightly, ass raised. God, he was like a cat in heat. Great. Fantastic, just-Nathan's fingers slid along the cleft of his ass, Gale's position leaving his legs parted, body bared. Just too good. "Here." He tossed the lube and condom packet back at Nathan. Fingers still moving, index finger tickling back and forth against his entrance in a rhythm that made Gale want to throw his head back and mewl, Nathan laughed. "Whole packet?" Over his shoulder, Gale watched the grin on Nathan's face. "Depends how good you are," he said. Never breaking the rhythm, Nathan unfastened the lube with his teeth, and Gale felt the cool gel slipping past the heat of Nathan's fingers. They remained still for a moment, until Gale braced his forearms against the bed, pushing back with a demanding groan. "I figure you think I'll be really good," Nathan murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss to the small of Gale's back, sinking one finger inside. His free hand reached to stroke Gale back to hardness. "Shut up," Gale muttered through clenched teeth, forehead against his arms, more undone by that kiss than anything else. "Get on with it." Another finger joined the first. He heard the snacking sound of the packet being opened, the crinkle of foil. "What's the magic word?" Nathan licked at his spine again, and Gale could feel the smile.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 27

"Now." Despite the order, Nathan took his own sweet time. Hands curved against Gale's buttocks, it was enough to imagine those gorgeous fingers worshipping him, until Nathan worked in some more lube with both thumbs, stretching and preparing him until Gale squirmed. "Damn it, Nathan if you don't--" The slow press of Nathan's cock seating itself in his body chased off any smart remark Gale had planned. It chased off every coherent thought, too, replacing his awareness with heat and pressure and friction. His hands clenched in the sheets, pushing back to meet Nathan's careful thrust. "You okay?" Nathan's breath was warm against his neck, the sweet concern in it reaching for something horribly needy in the depth of Gale's soul. "Yeah," he breathed, turning his head and catching Nathan's lips in a kiss. "Please, Nathan… I won't break, seriously…" Nathan managed a laugh, before Gale felt a shudder of tension running through the body blanketing his, felt the tremble of muscle as Nathan tried steeling himself against the sensation. Oh, no you don't… Eyes squeezed shut, Gale thrust back sharply, muscles tightening. As he drew away, hips rotating he wrung a muffled cry from Nathan, his hands tightening on Gale's hips as if to keep him from moving too much. Shaking his head at that, Gale reached for one of Nathan's hands, wrapping it around his cock instead, fingers entwined. Without the extra leverage, Nathan could do nothing but match Gale's pace, meet the fast, urgent thrusts until the only sounds were the sounds of their breathing, of skin on skin, of the bed's murmured protests. Nathan's fingers kept on stroking him when Gale leaned back a little, reaching back to touch, needing to complete the connection. His fingers found Nathan's hip, digging into powerful muscle, half-hoping he could drive the thrusts in harder and deeper that way. Nathan's free hand slid around Gale's waist, pulling him flush against himself, cock grazing the places inside Gale that made the room spin and stars explode behind his eyes. He came with a cry of Nathan's name, cock twitching, heat spilling over Nathan's fingers. Holding on, riding out his own pleasure, Gale felt Nathan's body tightening around his, tense enough to snap before the release flooded his body with a shudder that made the bed vibrate against the wall. For a moment, Gale couldn't think, couldn't move. He wanted to bury himself in Nathan's arms, in Nathan’s kiss, and he wanted to run screaming all at once. Eventually he compromised, keeping Nathan's arms around him as he stretched out on his side, Nathan's chest warm against his back.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 28

They didn't speak. Gale couldn't think of a single thing to say, even if he trusted himself to be able to speak. Nathan still feathered kisses against the back of his neck, breath coming in warm gasps against the sweat-damp skin. Nathan wrapped his arms around Gale's chest, and before he even had the chance to chastise the move, Gale's body reacted, hands overlapping Nathan's, keeping him locked in the embrace. Stupid. Breathtaking and mind-breaking, but stupid nonetheless. If he wasn't careful, Gale warned himself, drifting off into a doze in the warmth of Nathan's arms, it wouldn't just be the house Nathan would steal away.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 29

Chapter Five The room he was renting must have had a makeover since he last woke up, Nathan thought. Last he remembered, it didn't have those funky slatted blinds, or a deep pile carpet, or a music system the size of the moon. There'd been a ratty armchair, but the one in the corner now was a lush dark leather, lustrous even in the gloomy light. Maybe some hot property developer had gotten to it… Nathan sat up, sheets so soft he could barely feel them pooling around his waist, and looked around Gale's bedroom. It was bigger than Nathan's house. Gale muttered something in his sleep, sounding just as pissed and grumpy as he did when he was awake, and rolled over. Nathan smiled wryly. He was used enough to sneaking around in the dark, trying not to wake a light sleeper who wouldn't be too happy being roused. Granted, Gale wasn't in a drunken stupor, and Nathan doubted he'd wake up throwing punches, but it was still a confrontation he wanted to avoid. Picking up his clothes, Nathan froze every time Gale snuffled in his sleep, and every time the body beneath those silk sheets shifted, his heart hammered in his throat. Every breath sounded like hail on sandpaper, so Nathan held it as much as he could, convinced Gale would wake up at the smallest motion. He just needed to get out. He never should have let it get this far out of hand. Making his way out of the apartment -- opening both the bathroom door and a broom closet in his search for the front door -- Nathan only allowed himself to breathe properly when the door was firmly closed behind him. The still hallway absorbed his footsteps, the sound muffled in the rich carpet, and the ding of the elevator echoed thunder-crack loud as he called it up to Gale's floor. It lurched along with his stomach when he got in, pressing the button for the ground floor. In the gleaming mirrored privacy, he re-fastened buttons he'd hastily closed in Gale's bedroom, re-tied his shoes. His reflection blurred in the mirror, but he refused to put on his glasses. He didn't much want to see himself. The elevator reached the lobby, and Nathan almost keeled over when the doorman nodded politely at him. "Good morning, sir." "Ah, uh…" Who the hell had doormen who were starched and cheerful at half past dark-thirty in the morning? "Yeah." He stalked across the gleaming tiled floor, heading toward the beacon of salvation that beckoned to him -- the front door leading out to the street.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 30

Nathan's rented room lay so close to the highway there wasn't an hour of day or night when the

traffic didn't rumble by. This, he supposed, glancing back from the quiet tree-lined avenue at the

art deco building, was what other people's inheritance money got you…

No. Gale didn't have the inclination. After last night, Nathan still didn't know whether he liked

Gale's methods, but he was pretty sure the man would have done everything in his power to

ensure all the facts were above board.

Less than twenty-four hours in his presence, and Nathan was beginning to think Gale was the

biggest control freak he'd ever met.

Head down, he stuffed his hands into his pockets to ward off the early morning chill. He shuffled

as unobtrusively as he could from Gale's building before someone realized he really didn't

belong here.

At a phone booth at the corner of Gale’s street, Nathan stared up at the apartment window as he

rooted around for quarters. The window was dark, just a gap in the hastily closed blinds, and he

could all too easily imagine the gray light of morning creeping across Gale’s bed, across his skin.

The idea distracted him so much that the only answer on whatever number he’d dialed was a

softly spoken, “The number you have dialed is out of service. Please check your number and dial

again.”

When he eventually got it right, the phone rang out for several moments before he heard a

hoarse, angry “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

“Do you know what friggin’ time it is?”

It was just before dawn on the east coast. In Indiana…

“Early?”

“Damn right it’s early…” The gruff voice cut off with a yawn. Somewhere in the background

Nathan heard things clattering, glass rattling. “God damn it…”

Once upon a time he'd have been horrified that anyone started drinking that early. By now, he'd

learned that this man never stopped.

“You want me to call back?” Nathan asked.

“You’ve already screwed up my morning, why bother? What do you want? Good news?”

“There’s nothing. They’ve checked it all out, and they’ve got all the bases covered.”

A Torquere Press Arcana - 31

“So?”

“So I think this is a lost cause.”

“I’ll tell you when it’s a lost cause. How much do they know?”

Nathan thought about that. “I’m not sure. The new owner--” was that all Gale was? “--says

they’ve done their homework, dug in deep and there’s nothing. No loose ends. Whatever they did, they covered their tracks really well. If you know anything else, maybe--” “Are you questioning me, boy?” Nathan hadn’t been a boy in quite a while, but that tone still made him a nervous shivering nine year old again. Bobby Mathers was a strict bastard even when he was sober, and it had been so long since that had last happened, Nathan could hardly remember it. The alcohol just made Bobby mean. “No, sir.” Whoever his real father was, he couldn't hold a candle to Bobby's epic failure, Nathan was certain of that much. After all this time it shouldn't matter, he supposed. “Dad, they don’t have anything. This is a waste of time.”

“So, that’s it? You’re gonna jack it in and leave your old man up shit creek? Don’t be such a

fucking coward, Nathan.”

Nathan ran a hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut, determined not to retort. If Bobby was

really his old man, then he wouldn’t be here.

“Look. They have the means and the resources and the contacts and they can’t dig up a damn

thing. It’s a waste of time. There’s gotta be something else we can do, something--”

“Listen to me, you ungrateful little shit,” Bobby slurred. “I raised you, fed and clothed you when I could’a just thrown you out on the street. I don’t care what you have to do, just do it. That money’s ours.” “Dad--” “You remember how much it pissed you off, Nathan? Thinking they sold you out and you not

seeing a dime? You gonna be like her, fuck off and find something better?”

Nathan leaned back heavily against the booth, closing his eyes.

While she'd been around, Lucy Mathers had been Nathan's barrier between himself and Bobby.

At least she'd tried; the novelty value of raising someone else's child seemed to linger longer for her than it had for Bobby. But everyone had their limits, and Nathan figured Lucy had reached

A Torquere Press Arcana - 32

hers when she ran off with an insurance salesman. The buffer between them gone, Bobby found Nathan useful enough to leech from, now that his wife was gone. “We still don’t know what really happened,” Nathan said. “And who gives a shit? They cheated you outta a house is what happened, and me outta a share of something for putting up with you. Go back, do whatever it takes.” When Nathan didn’t answer, Bobby pressed on. “Okay?” “Okay, I’ll find a way.” “Good. Don’t bug me again 'til you have better news.” Anything it takes, huh? Nathan looked up at Gale’s window, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the early morning breeze around the booth. Gale didn’t need to know the truth. Gale was just some guy, just a means to an end... What would he say if he knew the letter hadn’t been bequeathed at all, but that Bobby had found it while going through his Lucy’s things -- burning most of them -- after she ran off? Bobby always made it crystal clear to Nathan that no one of his blood would be as pathetic, but the details had been a little hazy until then. Once an inheritance came into the equation, Bobby got awful chatty. Nathan's life hadn’t been much, but it had been his own. It ended when his mother left and abandoned Nathan to Bobby’s downward spiral of debt and drinking. If Nathan could see this through it was more than he’d ever make at his job, certainly more than Bobby would ever manage to scrape together. 1213 Sheridan Street was all he had left. And Gale Solomon was the lock and key to everything standing in his way.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 33

Chapter Six Gale woke to an empty bed. For a moment he lay there just staring at the rumpled space Nathan had occupied, before shaking himself off and getting out of bed with a stretch. That had been a good workout, nothing more…. Vowing not to think about Nathan anymore, he headed for the shower. Under the hot spray, he allowed himself to admit just how much of a mistake he’d made. He still didn’t know what the hell Nathan wanted, still didn’t trust the easygoing way Nathan had relinquished the fight for 1213. Nathan wouldn’t have won, they both knew that, but for all Nathan’s persistence, Gale thought he was giving up too easily. What did Gale know? Last night he’d almost believed Nathan was someone who understood, who knew somehow what Gale sought in every project he took on. On the way to the office, Gale stopped off at a couple of other ongoing projects. Sheridan Street wasn’t the only iron he had in the fire, and much as it occupied his every waking thought one way or another, he refused to neglect any of his other projects -- it was hardly their fault that 1213 was a far bigger headache than Gale had ever envisioned. He didn’t feel much better when he rolled into the office, barely getting his coat off before Ben latched onto him. “Mr. Takahashi is waiting for a call-back.” Ben stuffed a sheet of paper into his hands, matching Gale’s brisk pace as he headed for his office. “H. C. Jacobssen needs you to confirm the budget adjustments for the Mill Street work.” Another two sheets were pushed into his hands. “And Simon wants the three o’clock architect's appointment changed to one-thirty.” Gale stared at the documents, shaking his head as if that might help him re-learn whatever language Ben spoke. For a second, he’d forgotten all about his appointments and duties. “Fine, I’m on it.” Ben looked at him skeptically, following on his heels into his office. “Gale--” “It’s fine. I said I’m on it.” And if Ben was already nagging him, asking the question wouldn’t do any more harm. Dropping into his swivel chair, he flicked on the laptop on the desk. “What else have you dug up on the Oakleys?” Ben sighed softly. “I knew you’d ask that.” Gale smiled. “Only ‘cause I knew you’d have done it already.” “There wasn’t much to do.” Ben selected a manila folder from his stack of files and documents,

A Torquere Press Arcana - 34

placing one thin folder onto Gale’s desk. “Nothing new. I rechecked everything we had. No living inheritors and the only child capable of giving Mrs. Oakley any grandchildren died in seventy-six. That’s about the only remotely scandalous thing in living memory.” “What do you mean scandalous?” Ben flipped open the folder, spreading a couple of photos on the desk. One showed a row of stern buttoned-up women at a church, and the other, a young blonde woman smiling in a lush flower garden. “Mrs. Oakley.” Ben pointed to one of the grim women. “And that’s her daughter Katherine. I’d guess that a suicide in the family would be very scandalous for her, yeah.” Gale picked up the photo, frowning at Katherine’s smile. There was a glint in her eyes as she tended to some flowers that ran along a stone wall, and the house behind her resembled Sheridan Street. “Where was this taken?” “At her house, presumably.” Ben shrugged. “The date on the back is a couple of years before she died.” Gale flicked the photo over, reading "1974" in smudged ink. “How old was she?” “Eighteen.” “And no kids, I guess?” Ben smiled wryly. “No. Certainly no record of one. Besides, I think her mother would have killed her first if that was the case. No, according to the newspaper clippings, just a high-school sweetheart, good grades, bright future.” “So, what happened?” “Who knows. Now, Mr. Takahashi?” Ben reminded him, tugging out the documents Gale had carelessly scattered on the desk, placing them deliberately over the Oakley file. “You can play Nancy Drew later.” "Fine, fine…" Picking up the phone, Gale glared at the back of Ben's departing head, snapping out of the expression in a heartbeat when the call was answered somewhere in Tokyo. The Oakley file faded to the back of his mind as he went about catching up on the paperwork, one call leading to another like a daisy chain until it was mid-afternoon and only when his secretary came in to pick up some documents, knocking the file over in the process, did Gale

A Torquere Press Arcana - 35

think about it at all.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Solomon!"

"Don't worry about it." He dismissed her concern with a wave of the hand, leaning over the side

of the desk to retrieve the papers. Something made him pick up the photo again. The yard at 1213 Sheridan Street still vaguely resembled what it was now, the gray stone wall running along the western perimeter was in a better condition in the picture but still the same. But there was one thing in the scene that certainly wasn’t there anymore. Turning to the computer, he pulled up the digitized copies of the blueprints and plans. The vacant lot next to 1213 was currently owned by another local development company, but they’d purchased it a few years earlier. It stood empty while 1213 was still a mess, but it was currently inline for a complete rebuild into an exclusive set of boutique stores and a café, possibly with room for a park. When the photo of Katherine Oakley was taken, however, it was 1215 Sheridan Street. The

house, similar in style to 1213, had been demolished a decade ago.

He dialed through to Ben.

“Call DeRossi. Find out who they bought the lot next door from.”

Ben sighed, not even asking where Gale meant. "I hoped you'd given up on this."

"Not a chance in hell."

"They won't tell us, you know."

The light on Gale's phone flashed, informing him of another call waiting. "That's why you're

calling, not me. Tact, my friend. Tact. Sorry, got another call."

Ben tried to get in another word, but Gale cut him off with not a little relief, flicking over to the

other call.

“Hey.”

So long, sweet relief… “Nathan.” Gale’s fingers tightened around the receiver, his other hand tightening around the pen he held as though it was a weapon. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you forget something when you ran out this morning?” “Gale…” Nathan sounded like he was in a phone booth; Gale could hear traffic in the

A Torquere Press Arcana - 36

background, and wondered if all the other calls had come from the same place.

“What the hell do you want, Nathan? Warm fuzzies and a welcome?”

“I’m sorry.”

"Yeah." Gale scowled, flinging the pen down onto the desk. “Me too.”

“I just…” Nathan took a breath, and Gale could imagine him running a hand through his hair,

adjusting his glasses. Funny how he’d noticed those little nervous quirks in such a short amount

of time. “It got to me more than I thought it would.”

It wasn’t exactly the excuse Gale had expected. He hadn’t banked on something that resonated

quite so deeply inside himself. Rubbing a hand over his face, he leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah…”

“Can I see you again?”

"So you can run off on me again?" God, was he really as whiny and desperate as he sounded?

The phone echoed the pettiness in his tone, amplifying the edge of neediness. "I don't think it's a

good idea."

"Please, Gale." There was a pause, while something heavy that sounded like a twenty- foot tall

garbage truck rumbled past. "I can't stop thinking about you. I won't run off. I just want to see

you. Please."

That plea shouldn't have made a damn bit of difference. This wasn't capitulating to those eyes

and that smile when it came to a tour of the house, or when it came to indulging Nathan's tales of

a basket-case family.

This was a mistake. A stupid, simple mistake.

"Please," Nathan said again, voice almost drowned out by a horn blaring somewhere, and

sensory memories brushed across Gale's thoughts, sweet kisses and shy touches and a body that must have driven him well past the point of sanity if he was even considering doing it again. "Okay, whatever," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "If you want to talk, then you know where to find me."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 37

Chapter Seven By the time the Mercedes swept down the street, turning into the underground parking lot of Gale's building, Nathan had almost convinced himself this would be easy. Sorry for this morning. Let's never see each other again. Bobby would never stop, and Gale would never trust him, let alone forgive him for what he'd come here to do. There was nothing else Nathan could do. At least this way, he took most of the fall-out. "Hey." Gale walked toward him, and most of Nathan's resolve melted under that dark gaze, that all-encompassing presence, like being wrapped in velvet. "You know you could have waited inside." "Ah, it's a nice day." Nathan shook his head, a little bolder with the truth now he was ending things. "Besides, I didn't feel right just walking in." "Why not? It's just an apartment block. And you're here as my guest." Gale held the door open for him, waving off the doorman and blowing out a frustrated breath when Nathan made no move to follow. "Nathan, I'm not doing this in the street." "Sorry." Shaking himself out of the reverie, Nathan stepped into the cool lobby, smiling wryly. "Yeah, you're too classy for that." "Hardly," Gale scoffed softly. "I just don't want to do anything to tarnish the reputation of a neighborhood where I own property. Seems counter-productive." Even though he'd only known Gale for a short time -- if those phone calls really didn't count -Nathan smiled at that. Gale Solomon: consummate professional. Nathan had been a little surprised he hadn't cried out the names of development projects during sex. No, he called out your name, remember? Upstairs in the apartment, Gale disappeared to hang up his coat, and Nathan took the opportunity to take a look around the living room. The unassuming luxury didn't surprise him much. From the chic understated glamour of the offices, it was the least he'd expected. But whereas even Nathan's motel room had a handful of photos of friends tucked into the mirror, things that reminded him of home, there was nothing here that indicated Gale had so much as a life. A large arched window took up the entirety of one wall. Of the remaining three, one was bare, one bore a plain black and white photo of the city, and the third had a handful of certificates and a couple of framed newspaper articles. Taking a closer look, wondering if Gale saw his home as merely an extension of the office, Nathan read the brief lines of one article: underprivileged kids benefiting from some pro-bono development project carried out by Gale's company.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 38

"Don't tell me," Nathan said when Gale walked into the living room. "It's a great tax write-off, right?" Gale shrugged, dropping into a buttercream-colored couch, loosening his tie. "Among other things." Nathan walked over. He was making such an effort to stay away from Gale, really… "Like?" "Did you really come here to ask that, Nathan?" No, maybe he hadn't, but Gale's presence made Nathan curious despite his best intentions. The man was as much a mystery and a contradiction as anything that had led Nathan here. "Maybe I just want to know who Gale Solomon is," he said. One knee sank into the soft couch cushions as he braced a hand on the back of the chair, the other hand overlapping Gale's on the knot in the man’s tie. Gale looked up at him skeptically, voice just a little husky. "Why?" "So I can steal the house out from under you," Nathan deadpanned, even if it wasn't funny in the slightest, and judging by the way Gale's expression shut down in response, at least he knew what Gale would do when he learned the truth. "Come on, Gale. Because I like you." "You don't know me." "So let me." Nowhere in Nathan's plans had he intended to kiss Gale softly, one palm cupped against Gale's cheek. Nowhere in the plan could he recall the part where he just couldn't walk away from this. Gale shook his head, though not to tell him no, Nathan realized when Gale sat up to kiss him back. Gale’s fingers clenched in the front of his shirt, as though he was terrified Nathan would run away again. He should. It'd save them both trouble in the long run. Fingers tightening, Gale pulled him off balance, and with the couch cushions providing no purchase, Nathan slid into Gale’s arms with a laugh. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to straddle Gale’s lap, getting comfortable as though they’d come together that way a million times before. He should go, but the concept of "should" had never been further from his grasp. Gale’s proximity saw to that. "I mean it, you know." Nathan nuzzled Gale's neck, shivers of pleasure winding their way down his spine when Gale's fingers linked at the nape of his neck. He settled into the cradle of Gale's

A Torquere Press Arcana - 39

slightly parted thighs, rubbing slowly and firmly. "I want to know." Gale rolled his hips, the give of the couch pillows making Nathan feel like he was on a waterbed. "Really, now." "Yeah." One hand braced against the only solid thing nearby, the armrest, Nathan slid the other between their bodies, trapping it between their clothed erections when Gale moved his hips again. "'Cause you know so much about me." When Nathan's fingers squeezed his cock through the rich fabric of his pants, Gale arched up, arms wrapping tighter around Nathan. "Sure," he hissed through clenched teeth. "So much." "You do." Nathan nipped at Gale's chin, kisses feathering. You just don't know everything. If Nathan had his way, then somehow, some way, Gale would remain in that state of blissful ignorance. In the meantime, he didn't want Gale to think about it at all. Gale didn't make things easy for him, moving restlessly beneath him as Nathan tried opening their pants. He knew the way the couch moved, Nathan decided; it wasn't a fair fight. Still, any fight evaporated when bare arousals slid against each other, fever-hot, pulses racing in discordant rhythm. Hands clutching at Nathan's shirt, pulling the shoulders and sleeves taut and tangled, Gale bucked under him as Nathan's fingers wound around them both, keeping them pressed close. Leaning in to lick at the bared throat Gale presented when he arched back against the couch, Nathan closed his eyes, willing himself not to think. It was just pleasure, and if pleasure was all he'd get out of this before Gale realized the truth, Nathan would have to settle for that. Whether he planned on going through with Bobby's schemes or not no longer mattered; keeping it from Gale meant the damage had been done. Gale's lips found his again just as the heat and friction crested, Nathan's cries swallowed by the kiss. Ribbons of heat pooled between their bodies, making the last few erratic thrusts slick and fast. Gale kept kissing him right through it, until Nathan's pulse stopped ringing in his ears, until he couldn’t move so much as a finger without setting off an aftershock of sensation. It'd be perfect, if it wasn't such a mess. Nathan buried his face against Gale's shoulder, hiding the wry smile. Oh yeah, this had been part of the plan. Totally. How could it not be? Gale's fingers combed through his hair, a soft and soothing touch after the intensity. Even his voice was modulated, as free of grumbling and put-upon ire as Nathan had ever heard it. "Are you going to run out again?"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 40

Nathan chuckled, suitably chastised by the remark. Lips brushing Gale's neck, he shook his head.

"I don't think I can move, let alone run."

"Good." Gale's arms tightened around him. "But when you can, we're moving this to the

bedroom."

***

Nathan was asleep when Gale's cell phone rang out in the living room.

Shuffling through the darkened bedroom into the too-bright glare of the hall, Gale squinted at the

clock. Ten-thirty, and he was already in bed. Sad.

Okay, in bed with a gorgeous man asleep at his side. That softened the blow.

Ben's number glared at him from the phone's LCD.

"What've you got?"

"Hi Gale, nice to speak to you, too," Ben said dryly. "Sure, I'm having a nice evening, thanks for

asking."

"Yeah yeah, that, too."

Ben sighed loudly enough that Gale swore he felt the phone vibrate.

"DeRossi bought 1215 from a couple called James and Sarah McIntyre. James died a year ago,

and they're not sure what happened to Sarah."

Gale stilled. Naked as he was, the apartment wasn't cold enough to make him fight a shiver.

"McIntyre?"

"Yes. I've asked DeRossi for the last known address for her, since they thought she'd moved out

of town. Someone remembers she had a younger sister, Louisa, so it's possible she moved in with her after her husband died. All stuff they really shouldn't be sharing with me, of course, but I pulled a few strings." Gale grimaced. "What do they want?"

"No competition for whenever that Highway 40 waste ground comes up for sale."

"Ah, didn't really want it anyway. When're they getting back to you?"

"Gale, what's with this obsession? Is that Nathan Oakley sniffing around again?"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 41

Gale turned, peering into the open bedroom. He could just make out the hallway light casting a bright beam against Nathan's shoulder, making his hair look like spilled gold against the blue silk of Gale's sheets. He looked as though he belonged there, comfortable and settled as a stray who took over an entire household. "No."

"They'll get back to me by the end of the week," Ben said. "Until then, I suggest you put this

much dedication into all your other projects?"

Gale made a face at the phone. "Yes, Mom."

"Gale--"

"Look, I'm grateful," Gale said, pre-empting Ben's next statement, which he was convinced

would be a variation of "this isn't like you," No, it wasn't. Neither was allowing anyone this

much access to his domain; no one else looked at home here, not until Nathan.

As if he could feel Gale's thoughts, Nathan stirred slightly, sheets shifting around his hips as he

moved.

"Let me know what they say, okay?" Gale said, shutting off the phone before Ben could reply. Walking back into the bedroom, he reached the edge of the bed just as Nathan turned over, one arm flung across his eyes, smile bleary. "Everything okay?" "Yeah." Gale sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss Nathan softly. "Everything's

fine."

Nathan chuckled, a soft vibration against Gale's lips. "You wouldn't tell me even if it wasn't."

Something about Nathan's perception made something wary and uneasy unfurl in Gale's heart.

Maybe Ben knew him that well, but at least Ben was getting paid for his attentiveness. What was Nathan getting out of it? "Yes, I would."

"Liar." Nathan smiled, arms winding around Gale's shoulders, tugging him back into a kiss. "But

that's okay, I know you don't trust me that much."

"It's not--"

Maybe it was for the best that the kiss stole whatever words he'd been about to say. They

A Torquere Press Arcana - 42

wouldn't have helped anyway.

It wasn't Nathan Gale didn't trust. Lately, it was himself.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 43

Chapter Eight "It's so nice of you to come." The nursing home smelled of antiseptic and resignation. Gale didn't think it was nice at all, and vowed to make a will that demanded he was taken out back and shot before being foisted off to a place like this. He wasn't sure who'd condemned Mrs. Sarah McIntyre to this, and perhaps they had their reasons, but Gale had the urge to break their nose. The new people at the last good address DeRossi had for Louisa McIntyre had been a little perplexed when Gale showed up on their doorstep, asking about her sister. After a coffee, some home-baked cookies, and a half hour of reminiscing later, they came to the conclusion she might have been taken in at the residential nursing home that lay on a scenic little road out of town. Forgettable, Gale thought. Better than banishment. Still, he'd thanked them, accepted another cookie for the road, and taken a chance at dropping by the home to see if Mrs. McIntyre was still a resident. "Ah, you know. I was in town and I thought I'd stop by." "She'll be delighted to see you." The nurse led him through the sterile corridors to Mrs. McIntyre's room. "Though I should warn you, she's not always quite with us, if you know what I mean." I know I'd have you fired for disrespect and insensitivity if she really was my relative. "Of course," he said instead, as the nurse opened one of the identical doors. "It's to be expected." "Hello, Sarah!" The nurse yelled so loudly as the door swung open to reveal a chintzy little room that smelled of old lavender, Gale had to step back. "You've got a visitor!" She patted Gale's arm and retreated quickly. "The panic alarm is by the bed if you need us for anything in an emergency. Gale watched her leave, muttering, "I'd want my dignity back, actually." Bracing himself, he stepped further into the room. "Did you hear her?" A voice creaking like old leather spoke from a chair by the window. "Sarah. Not Mrs. McIntyre. No respect, these children." Sarah McIntyre didn't seem that incoherent to Gale, and judging from that opening remark, he liked her already. "I'll lodge a complaint," he said. "Ah, no use." Mrs. McIntyre shook her head, thin hair like gossamer fluffing around her head.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 44

"No one will listen."

"Mrs. McIntyre, I'm Gale Solomon." Gale stepped a little closer, maintaining a respectful

distance. "I'm a property developer and--"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. The house isn't for sale," Mrs. McIntyre said. "My Jimmy is going to fix it up for

when I get home. We're not selling."

Gale reconsidered the coherence, but he still liked the defiance.

"No, it's nothing like that. Actually I was just wondering if you remembered some neighbors of

yours, the Oakleys?"

Mrs. McIntyre looked up, watery eyes set back in vellum thin skin the reminded Gale of crinkled

shopping bags. The look in her eyes, however, was shrewder than some of his investors.

"Why do you want to know?"

If that wasn't a side step, Gale didn't know what was. He'd have been proud of that one himself.

"I ran into Elizabeth Oakley's grandchild, and since there wasn't much information about the

Oakleys, I thought I'd do some checking myself."

Well, it was almost true… "The Oakleys didn't have a grandson." Mrs. McIntyre squinted at him, and Gale could spot the exact moment she realized her mistake, when she shook her head, voice panicked. "I don't know you!" One gnarled hand pressed at a hand held panic button. "Nurse! Nurse!" "Mrs. McIntyre, please." Gale tried for his most earnest look. "I just need to know what happened, for Nathan's sake." There was far too much truth in that statement too for Gale's liking, but Mrs. McIntyre was hardly going to run to Nathan with Gale's confession. "Nathan." Mrs. McIntyre seemed more lucid for a moment. "Yes. That's what they called him, isn't it?" Gale knelt at her side, voice quiet. "I'm not here to make trouble, Mrs. McIntyre. I just want to know what happened to Katherine." "Oh, that poor girl…" Mrs. McIntyre clutched Gale's hand instead of the panic button, fingers cold and bony. "She'd be at that window, all the time. Just staring."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 45

K and D on the windowsill. "What happened to her?" Gale hesitated before deciding he might as well play all his cards. Curiosity was getting the better of any pokerfaced game he could play. "After the baby?" "Poor girl." She nodded. "It was for the best, you see." Leaning closer, she whispered conspiratorially. "She should have listened to her mother." A chill ran through Gale's blood at that, despite the sterile, too-warm air conditioning.

"What do you mean, Mrs. McIntyre?"

"For the best," the old woman said again. "Why, she's just a child herself!"

"What happened to her?"

Mrs. McIntyre stared at him again. "Who are you?" Jabbing a bony finger at his face, she yelled,

"I don't know you! Nurse! Nurse!"

Gale thought it spoke volumes that no one came even after four calls and countless pokes at the

alarm. He could have been anyone.

"Who took in the baby, Mrs. McIntyre?"

He tried to ignore the implication of who that baby could be. Gale still wasn't happy at admitting

Nathan could have been right all along.

"No one. There was no baby. What are you talking about?" She smacked forcefully at the panic

button. "Nurse!"

The nurse finally appeared at the door, only at the fifth time of asking.

"What is it, Sarah?"

"Make him leave!" Mrs. McIntyre pointed at Gale. "I don't know him! I don't know him!"

Despising himself for stooping to this, Gale backed off, even as the nurse offered him a

sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's always hard to see them like this."

"Leave," Mrs. McIntyre said again. "Go away! You don't know what you're talking about."

Gale nodded. "It was nice to see you again," he said pointedly. "Next time I'll make sure to bring

Nathan."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 46

Threatening a doddery old lady was a brand new low, even for Gale, but the moment he said it the dodderiness faded. Mrs. McIntyre looked at him, chin raised. "Does he look like her?" Gale thought about the picture of Katherine, remembered the brightness in her smile. "Yes, a bit." "It was for the best." Mrs. McIntyre murmured. "No one knew. No one knew what she would do." "Nathan understands that," Gale said gently. "He only wants to know the truth about his family." Even if Nathan's truth could damn well ruin Gale. Somewhere in a few hours over a week, Nathan had managed to make Gale care enough to go chasing ghosts like this, upsetting frail old women with things no one seemed to want to recall. He almost didn’t recognize himself. Was this what happened when you became tangled up in other peoples’ lives, you lost sight of yourself? Was that what Sarah McIntyre had felt, once upon a time? "Such a lovely child, such a shame." Her lucidity slipped again, though Gale couldn't be sure how much of it was for the nurse's benefit, to give him the opportunity of leaving without question. "We're not selling. I'm telling Jimmy to call the police if you come to the house again." "It might be best to leave her." The nurse placed a hand on Gale's arm. "Yeah," he said, something tightening in his chest as he looked back at Sarah McIntyre. What did she know, what did she remember that would go with her to the grave? The secrets of 1213 Sheridan Street, the power to deal a hefty blow to Gale's business, his pride. The power to give Nathan the truth. At the front desk, he plucked a business card from his wallet, handing it to the nurse. "Whatever she needs to make her more comfortable, anything at all, charge it to us." The nurse took the card, but there was an edge in her eyes when she looked up at him. "Your money can't give her back what she's lost, Mr. Solomon." She headed behind the desk, setting the card down, and disappearing into a back room. "Sometimes money is absolutely useless." *** Nathan was waiting in the office parking lot when Gale arrived, sitting on the edge of a stone planter, late evening sun gleaming off the frame of his glasses and turning his golden hair a burnished gleam.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 47

They’d done little but talk and make love since they’d met, but the casual ease with which Nathan insinuated himself in Gale’s life hadn’t been apparent until now. Nathan’s expectation, the way he was waiting as though Gale was answerable to him, grated. Gale had half a mind to keep driving, putting as much space between them as he could. "Where've you been all day?" Nathan stood as Gale parked the car, opening the door. "I tried calling all day, no one knew where you were, and your cell's been out of the area." Getting out of the car, slamming the door behind him, Gale raised a brow. "Who are you, my mother?" Immediately regretting the choice of words, especially after they day he'd had, he shrugged. "I had work to do." "I'm sorry." At least Nathan had the grace to look sheepish. "I just thought it was important--" "Yeah, well, not every important thing revolves around you and your damn family." An image of Sarah came unbidden to Gale's thoughts, secret and hopeless. Was that what ties brought you, a lifetime of keeping secrets ‘til they drove you crazy and all you could hope for was the blessed relief of forgetting them, even for a moment? He didn't want Nathan latching onto him that way. Nathan wanted something Gale couldn't provide. Nathan wanted family. Gale just wanted… Whatever the hell he wanted, he couldn't be what Nathan needed. Who the hell was he to be anyone's family, anyone's rock to lean on? He lived alone with just the housekeeper’s frozen meals for company, worked himself into the ground, and he wasn't looking for more than that. It wasn't as though anyone besides Ben ever checked up on him, ever cared about where he was. Nathan's questioning grated, stifled him. Made him feel a little like he mattered. "Anyway, I found these." Nathan unfurled a few sheets of photocopied newspaper articles. "They're about Sheridan Street from the past thirty years, and--" "Nathan, I have work to do, all right? That," Gale gestured to the papers, "isn't going to make any difference. Do you actually get that? I don't give a shit about your fucked up family. I'm making sure you don't make a move on the house." Hands tightening on the papers, Nathan took a step back, staring at him like a wounded animal. "What happened?" "Nothing." Gale ran a hand through his hair, before moving closer to the sanctuary of the office

A Torquere Press Arcana - 48

doors. Anything to get out of here. The stone planters and neatly laid tiled path felt strangely cold despite the sunshine. "Maybe I came to my senses." "Gale--"

"Look, I can't be answerable to you every hour of every day. You're a grown man, Nathan. Go

and live your life."

"Fine," Nathan said, blue eyes guarded. Slowly and deliberately, he rolled the papers back up,

still clinging onto them tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Gale said, turning for the office doors, not looking back. "You do that."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 49

Chapter Nine Tomorrow came and went. So did the day after that, without hide nor hair of Nathan. As used to Nathan’s presence -- constant and relentless -- as Gale had become, there was a strange gap in his day without the man. He was better off without the baggage Nathan brought, Gale told himself, safer not getting too deeply involved with someone he probably couldn't even trust. Certainly it was better to avoid someone who made gentle demands that sent Gale's senses reeling, made him yearn for things he'd written off as unnecessary and stupid a long time ago. "You're working hard," Ben commented, a week after Nathan left. "Is there something I need to know?" "No." Gale shook his head. Just out of a conference call with his suppliers and arranging for the demolition crew to head to Sheridan Street on Monday, he scoured his desk for something else to do. "Hey, where's the Russell Avenue blueprint?" "Back at the architect’s," Ben said patiently. "Where you sent it yesterday morning to fix the parking spaces." "Ah. Yeah." The to-do pile looked alarmingly empty. There had to be something to distract him. "What about Mr. Goldberg? He wanted me to call about the Mill Street development and--" "He's out of town 'til next week. I told you that when you asked on Tuesday." Gale stared across his desk and blew out a breath. "Fine. Then I'm going to check out the sites, see how they’re progressing." Ben stared at him. "Gale, it's twelve-thirty. Now, if there's something going on with the company that I should know about, I'd like to know." "What?" Gale frowned. "Why would anything be going on with the company? I'm allowed to work hard now and then, right?" "I don't doubt it," Ben said. "We're all here because you work hard. You just seem distracted, like you're… tying up loose ends." Clutching his PDA a little like a kid with a security blanket, Ben watched him. "If you're selling, or--" "Selling?" Gale laughed out loud. "No, Ben, I'm not selling, and if I was, you'd know about it before I did." He stood, reaching for his coat. "Besides, wouldn't you rather have someone less flaky as a boss?" "Of course not." Ben looked indignant. "I'd just like to know where we’re going next." We. Gale smiled despite himself. It seemed he was part of several "we"s without even realizing

A Torquere Press Arcana - 50

it. Yeah, if Ben hadn't been straight, Gale might have kissed him then and there. But now there was another factor throwing a wrench in the works: Ben wasn't Nathan. "I'm going out," he said, patting Ben on the shoulder as he passed. "Hold any calls, I'll deal with them when I get back." "Important business?" Ben watched him go with a half smile. "Yeah," Gale said. "I hope so." *** Nathan had stayed with Gale almost every night since that first encounter. It was two weeks since then, but as natural as Nathan’s company had become, it felt like months. The time apart stretched even longer. Gale had dropped Nathan off a couple of times at the trashy little motel on a run-down street near the highway turn-off, but it still took a handful of attempts at inputting the right data into the sat-nav for Gale to find it again. The roar of the highway and the hum of the through street assaulted him the second he stepped out of the car. How anyone could sleep in this place was beyond him. He took in the peeling paint, the uneven asphalt, the dinghy curtains, and decided that not too many people came here to sleep anyway. A twenty to the desk clerk later, and Gale had Nathan's room key. Standing in the middle of the room, trying not to breathe too deeply or touch much of the furnishings, he understood why Nathan thought his apartment was a palace. He'd seen demolition sites that looked luxurious compared to this. Still, he was here for a reason. Prodding around a scant assortment of clothes, it didn't seem as though Nathan had taken off completely, even though the desk clerk told him he hadn't seen Nathan for a couple of days. Wondering grimly how long they planned on waiting before reporting an issue with a guest -- maybe forever -- Gale rifled through a stack of papers on the chipped table. Information about 1213 Sheridan Street. Newspaper clippings, including Elizabeth Oakley's obit. That letter from Sarah McIntyre. More interesting than any of that was a birth certificate, naming one Nathan Mathers, filled in at some poky little registration office in Indiana. Someone by the name of Louisa McIntyre had verified the home birth. Gale's fingers tightened on the document. He should have been after the damn McIntyres from the start.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 51

His hands were still a little shaky when he noticed a scrunched up piece of paper in the trashcan

and reached in gingerly to retrieve it. It was an out of state number, on a well-worn scrap of

notepaper.

Picking around the room one last time, looking for any other clue as to Nathan's immediate

whereabouts, Gale dialed the number.

"What?" a voice on the other end of the line snapped, sounding a little slurred and uneven.

"Nathan, s'that you? Thought I told you not to call back 'til you had good news about that damn

house."

Gale stilled.

"Nathan?" the man asked.

"I'm Nathan's friend," Gale said, getting no further than that before the phone clicked off.

Nathan wasn't here. Gale gave up on that much, but not on the call. Dialing again, he just let the

phone keep ringing. And ringing.

And ringing.

He was in his car, driving toward Sheridan Street when the phone was finally picked up with an

angry clatter, and the snarled voice came on the line again.

"What the fuck d'you want?"

"I told you, I'm Nathan's friend," Gale said. "I've been looking for him and thought you might

know where he's gotten to. And what he intends to do to my house."

Silence followed. For a moment Gale thought the man had hung up again.

"Why'd he tell you about this number?"

"He didn't." Gale took a left, willing the streets to pass by faster, more and more certain that

Nathan was at the house. "Maybe you could enlighten me."

The man hung up again. Gale hit redial, cursing suburban residential streets and their damned speed restrictions. "Stop fucking calling!" The man yelled, picking up the line, shouting so loudly Gale had to hold the phone away from his ear. He could almost smell the alcohol in the words. "I'll call the fucking cops and--" "Please do." Gale agreed. "My name's Gale Solomon, I'd love to know what you're planning on

A Torquere Press Arcana - 52

telling them. Now explain to me again why Nathan would call you about my house?" "I ain't telling you squat!" "What do you know about his mother?" Gale asked. The man didn't sound sober enough to register the questions, but maybe Gale could catch his inhibitions at an unguarded point. "What do you know about Katherine Oakley?" "Stuck-up little slut," the man muttered, before the sound of something falling over echoed down the line. "Like her bastard son." He laughed, as if the concept of his joke amused the life out of him. Gale thought he'd punch the life out of the man if he was close enough. No one talked about Nathan that way. "How do you know about her?" "Don't." The man slurred, pausing long enough for Gale to hear the bottle cap being opened with a hiss. "Goddamn wife knew the neighbors. She's a stuck up little slut, too." "The McIntyres." Gale spoke softly to himself as he pulled up outside 1213, glancing at the empty plot that used to be the neighboring house. There hadn't been electricity in 1213 ever since Gale bought it, but there was a light flickering in the small window in the attic. Nathan… "Who the fuck are you, anyways?" the man asked. "You a cop?"

"No," Gale said. "I told you, I'm Nathan's friend."

"Nathan ain't got friends." The man barked a laugh, the sound harsh and grating. "And if you call

this number again, I'll made damn sure you ain't got none either."

"Wait, I--"

The dial tone greeted him. Cursing, Gale flipped the phone closed, shoving it in his pocket as he

got out of the car. The light still flickered in the window; if Nathan was dumb enough to light

candles in a place like that, they'd both go up like a tinderbox.

The gate slammed shut behind him. So did the front door. The only way out was past him, thanks

to the amount of trash and junk that had piled up outside the back door. Nathan wasn't going

anywhere.

Gale’s footsteps reverberated in the house as he made his way up to the front bedroom, the sound

echoing and muffling until he didn't know where it came from anymore.

The wallpaper by the door to the box room had been pulled back, revealing grooves in the door.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 53

Gale frowned, running his fingers against it, before shoving it to the back of his mind. Nathan could explain that after he'd explained how he'd gone about trying to fleece Gale out of the whole damn house. He took the narrow wooden steps two at a time, until he came to the tiny box room. Candlelight flickered against the walls, casting shadows and gouges in the flaked paint and curled wallpaper. Even in daylight, he thought, this place wasn't really light. Just a different kind of dark. At least Nathan's candles made it a little less foreboding. Nathan sat on the floor by the window, one knee bent up, the other leg stretched out before him. He looked up at Gale as though he'd been expecting the intrusion. Well, he might not expect the question. "Who did I just call?" Gale tossed the scrunched up ball of paper at Nathan, watching as he unfurled it, eyes widening. "Why the hell did you do that? Gale--" "Who was he?" "My dad." Nathan scrunched the paper up again, viciously throwing it across the room. Gale blinked. Well, that sure explained a lot. "Your dad?" "The man who raised me." Nathan shrugged. "Not my real dad." Walking over to the window, fingers tracing the letters etched in the wood, Gale glanced at Nathan. "You think this ‘D’ is?" Nathan nodded. "Probably. I know you don't believe any of this, but my mot--" He amended himself. "The woman who raised me had that letter for some reason. Bobby, the guy you talked to, said she'd talked him into taking me in from some relatives of the McIntyres she knew. We don't know where she is now, so we can't ask, but she never mentioned any of it to me. When Bobby heard about the Oakley house…" "How?" “Found the letter, the obit, somehow managed to stay sober enough to put two and two together. He's in deep shit," Nathan said wryly. "He's one late payment away from losing the house, and thinks it's better to pay for a new bottle of Jackie D. than it is to pay the banks and the credit card companies. He sent me to get the money." "Sent you?" Gale barked a laugh. "Wow. So all this, us, was that part of the plan, too?" "No…" Nathan shook his head. "You were never a part of the plan, Gale. You pretty much

A Torquere Press Arcana - 54

single-handedly fucked up the plan." "Was that before or after you tried to fuck me over?" Gale glared. "Gale--" "Lies, I could get." He shook his head, walking over to the shadowed wall opposite the door. The old floral paper was peeling in great big strips, and to occupy his hands in case he felt like beating the living crap out of Nathan, Gale started tugging at the old, brittle paper. "Never been used before, it's kinda of a new thing for me…" "I didn't use you. Gale, please--" "You fucked me to get at the house." Gale ripped one long strip viciously. "I think that's exactly what you did." "And you think wanting you was easy?" Nathan got to his feet. "You think knowing it'd come down to this was good for me? Why the hell do you think I tried to…" "Keep your distance?" Gale muttered. "Well, you've done a bang up job of it lately." The paper peeling was addictive, the compulsive in his soul couldn't leave it alone until he'd gotten a neat patch clear to the scratched wall beneath. "I had to. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Gale. I've tried blowing Bobby off, but he won't listen, I figure if I just…" Nathan ran his hands though his hair. "Do what he always expects of me and fail spectacularly, then I won't have to do anything." The paper piled up around Gale's shoes like hamster bedding, thin narrow ribbons curling into tight coils. The wall beneath looked to be an old faded blue, with slashes and gashes in the plaster. "That's mature of you." "Never been that." Nathan chuckled humourlessly, before lapsing into silence. "No, actually, I probably did use you a little bit. You knew more than I did, and if I wanted to dig deeper I had to go through you. But it was never for the house, Gale." Pausing briefly in his quest, Gale turned, sending Nathan a look of disbelief. "Okay, fine, maybe before I met you it was about the house," Nathan said. "But then I did, and you're…" "I'm what?" "You listened. You brought me here, you gave me a chance to get close to my family for a second even when you didn't have to. You didn't care who I was." Nathan looked at him, gaze

A Torquere Press Arcana - 55

narrowed. "You still don't." There was no answer for that. It wasn't the different name on the birth certificate that bothered him, just the fact Nathan could have planned this, from the first kiss, through all those knowing touches, through every second they'd spent together. Gale continued peeling paper, paying no attention, until Nathan tensed at his side, sucking in a soft breath. "Gale." "What?" He looked up, following Nathan's stare. He couldn't see anything worth noticing at first. Just a bunch of disjointed scratched and scrawls, some of them suffering a half-assed attempt at replastering -- more of it seemed to be peeled out with the paper than there was left in the wall. Then, like a stereogram picture finally coming clear, the lines linked up, scratches and curves suddenly not the arbitrary mess he thought they were. Words.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 56

Chapter Ten Words. Etched into the plaster, the way the letters had been carved into the windowsill. Gale

stepped back, taking in the expanse of the scrawls, some as high as a teenage girl could reach,

some as low as the skirting boards.

One set of lines made up "-mber, 1974", the rest of the line hidden behind the next sheet of

wallpaper. On the other side, the letters "KA-" disappeared beneath the paper's edge.

He stared at Nathan. Wordlessly, and in synch, they began peeling the rest of the paper, tearing

off ragged old strips of floral chintz, stripping away years from the walls. The flaking plaster

kicked up fine dust, coming clear of the letters and numbers like sand. It had protected the words

from the worst damage of the paper.

When most of the paper was in piles on the floor, little shreds in their hair, they stood back, just

gazing at the things Katherine Oakley had written.

"Let me out" repeated several times, in different sizes and letter cases. "K" and "

D" were carved into a large lopsided heart, and the words beneath read "for ever". The dates

ranged from "September 1974" to "October 1975."

How long, how often had she been here? Well after Nathan's birth; the Indiana certificate was

dated June 1975.

On the bottom right corner of the wall, as if she'd been sitting against the door when she wrote it,

the tilted words read "my baby moved today". A little higher up, looking a little different, the

words "who will you be? Not like me" were written.

The initials E.O. appeared once or twice, crossed out with angry slashes, and Gale remembered

Mrs. McIntyre’s words:

"She should have listened to her mother." "I went to see Sarah McIntyre," Gale murmured after a moment, watching from peripheral vision as Nathan's eyes widened again. "She's not in the greatest shape these days, but she remembers Katherine at this window. Always at this window." "There used to be a lock on the door," Nathan said, sounding a little numb. That explained the torn paper in the bedroom downstairs. "Do you think…?" "Maybe." Gale shrugged, voice soft. Reaching out, he traced the words Katherine had scratched into the plaster. "Must have driven her crazy." Nathan dropped to his knees, hands clenched tight in the shredded paper. "It was my fault," he whispered. "If it wasn't for me, then she'd--"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 57

"Oh, no, you do not start thinking that." Gale knelt at Nathan’s side, pulling the paper free, arms wrapping around Nathan's shoulders. "That's bullshit. Elizabeth Oakley is the only one who's responsible for this, not you, not Katherine." Shoving at his arms, Nathan shook his head angrily.

"What if Bobby's right, what if all I do is hurt people? Him, my mother, you--"

Gale kissed him, palms against Nathan's damp cheeks, body arching against him. Nathan's arms

wound around his waist, holding on tight.

"You didn't hurt me," Gale said between kisses. "You pissed me off. There's a big difference."

"No, there isn't."

"There is to me. I came looking for you today to tell you how much I missed you." Gale's hands

rested on Nathan's shoulders, thumbs brushing against the column of his neck. "That you've fucked my life up so much my day isn't right without you. And it's not about this goddamned house, it's not about whatever the hell your name is. It's about you." "But you said--" "Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed off that you didn't just tell me what you were doing from the start." "I was going to," Nathan said. "The day you told me my family was fucked up and that I needed to get a life."

"I didn't say that, exactly, I…"

Nathan looked at him.

"Okay, fine. Not one of my best moments." Gale looked away. "But meeting Sarah just…" He

shook his head. Nathan leaned back against the opposite wall, taking up the position he'd been in before, and Gale leaned into his arms as though they'd been doing this forever. "Ties just screw you up, you know? And nothing I replaced them with would be any good to me in the long run. And you…" He laughed softly. "You were both." "Sorry…" Nathan murmured against his hair, and Gale could feel a smile. "You went to see her

for me, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Didn't help much though."

"Still. You went. That means a lot to me."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 58

There wasn't much Gale could say to that. They remained silent for a while, watching the shadows creep across the room, demarcating the grooves and scrawls on the wall as peaks and valleys, softening the edges of the decrepit room. In less harsh light, the damp and cracks, the peeling paint and rotting wood could better disguise themselves. It might even have been pretty once, when Katherine sat at the window and dreamed of a future for her baby. "What're you gonna do now?" Gale asked after a while, still watching the flickering shadows. "There's nothing we can prove with just a wall of scratches and an old lady who's not sure what year it is anymore." Nathan shrugged. "It doesn't matter." "But you can't challenge for the house." Gale stopped short of admitting the house was rightfully Nathan's; some things were still ingrained too deep. "I don't care," Nathan said. "I haven't cared about the house for a long time. Or the money." "What about Bobby?" Nathan shook his head. "I don't know. Part of me wants to leave him to it, and damn straight that's all he deserves, but…" He looked at Gale. "Maybe I'll try making him see sense one last time." Thinking back on his conversation with Bobby, Gale thought that might be a lost cause, but it wasn't his call to make. "Yeah," he said, brushing a kiss to the side of Nathan's neck. "If anyone can do that it'd be you." Standing, brushing dust and flakes of wallpaper from his clothes, Gale extended a hand to Nathan, who took it and followed him wordlessly. Picking up the candle, Nathan stared at the wall one last time before extinguishing the flame. "I don't regret it," he said softly, and in the near dark of the room what light there was caught on his profile, illuminating a half smile and bright eyes. "I'm glad I know what happened." "Yeah…" Gale nodded. "Though I really hope none of the houses I buy ever have this much of a story to tell." Turning for the door, Gale vowed never to set foot in 1213 Sheridan Street again until every last inch of the place had been razed to the ground. The past needed to go, and now someone knew the truth of what Katherine had endured, the house itself was no longer necessary. The place needed to be about the future now. Nathan's future. Their future. Pausing at the door, Gale held a hand out to Nathan.

A Torquere Press Arcana - 59

"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."

A Torquere Press Arcana - 60

Epilogue The last of the trucks left just after five. Gale wound his scarf a little tighter as he checked over

the landscaping, ensuring everything had been planted to his exact specifications, and that the

rich shrubbery was aligned in neat rows.

They'd look lovely once spring really caught hold, blooming in rich vibrant colors, a bright

welcome to the new look Sheridan Street.

DeRossi might finish the work on the old McIntyre property by then, Gale thought smugly,

carefully patting down a chunk of soil that had been left protruding onto the sidewalk. If they

ever got their act in gear as brilliantly as him.

He'd been scrutinizing the paint work on the wrought iron railings when a voice cut through the

chill, warm and reassuring as a summer sunbeam.

"Gale, they painted it right. Really."

Arms wrapped around his waist, a strong chest against his back. Leaning into the embrace, he

closed his eyes briefly, smiling. "Hey, I'm just being thorough."

Nathan brushed a kiss to the side of his neck. "Yeah, you're that all right. But I'm not

complaining."

"So." Gale turned around in Nathan's arms. "My day involved arguing with gardeners, polishing

door handles for the fifteenth time, and getting dirt on my shoes. What about you?"

"Damn." Nathan laughed. "You even make working a grocery store seem exciting in

comparison."

"But you love me for it."

"Yeah." Nathan leaned down, catching Gale's lips in a soft kiss, smiling. "Don't remind me."

Stepping back, Gale rooted around in his pockets for the one item he'd kept guarded all day. "Did

you get the time off this weekend?"

"Yeah." Nathan watched him curiously. "Though I'm not looking forward to it much. He'd gotten

worse last time."

"Hey, it's one lapse in months. It's to be expected." Gale paused, offered a smile. "Besides I'll be

there with you. And Bobby likes me."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "However the hell that happened."

"We're both assholes." Gale nodded. "We flock together. Ah, here it is…"

A Torquere Press Arcana - 61

When he pulled the small shiny item from his pocket, Nathan stared at him, blue eyes enormous

and vivid with the new contact lenses in place.

"Gale, what are you…?"

"I know, it might be too much," Gale began. "But there's no one else I can give it to."

Nathan's hands were a little unsteady when Gale took hold of one, placing the brand new key to

the penthouse apartment of 1213 Sheridan Street into his palm.

"But--"

"I can't give you back the house, or the people who lived in it. Nothing I do will ever bring that

back, I know that," Gale said softly, closing Nathan's hand around the key. "But I can give you that. You can look out of the window and see what she saw when she loved you so much." Nathan said nothing, just wrapped his arms tightly around Gale, face buried against the crook of his neck. Eyes closing, Gale smiled to himself, hands clutching the back of Nathan's shirt.

"Thank you," Nathan murmured, not letting go until Gale pushed him back gently.

"You're welcome. Now go up and see it." He shooed Nathan toward the new gate, one that

neither squeaked nor slammed, but swayed back gently into its latch as it closed behind them.

"Any of the fixtures you want changed, tell me now so we can get a good deal on them." Nathan laughed. "It'll be perfect, don't change anything. Besides, you're fixtures and fittings guy." "Well," Gale mock preened, "that's true."

Watching Nathan stare at the front door, Gale recalled the gorgeous guy who'd walked up to

1213 in the rain all those months ago, and tore his world apart before putting it back together

again.

Ties. They screwed you up, all right. In the best way imaginable.

"Hey, Nathan?"

"Hmm?" Nathan looked up and Gale smiled, heart fluttering at the way those blue eyes met his.

Gale might have built a lot of stunning buildings, but he remained proudest of the way he'd built

up the love and affection in that gaze.

"Welcome home."

END

A Torquere Press Arcana - 62

The House on Sheridan Street Copyright © 2008 by Cat Kane All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. ISBN: 978-1-60370-556-1, 1-60370-556-2 Torquere Press, Inc.: Single Shot electronic edition / December 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

A Torquere Press Arcana - 63