“You’re one of the most decent human beings I’ve ever met,” James had said. “Your father doesn’t deserve you as a son.”
My father doesn’t know where I am, Erik thought. Silently, he moved down a few rows. He glanced at the brass letters on the sides of the aisle seats. O. N. M. He leaned against the side of the seat. Swallowing hard, he took his fist out of his pocket and gazed down at the medallion in his palm. “James,” he said. The air was thick and resistant at the back of his head as he looked up.
James’s head flicked around.
“James,” Erik said again, making his gaze level, willing his voice to be steady. “Come talk to me.”
James didn’t move. He had shaved off his goatee. It ought to have softened his face, made him young and approachable. But looking back over his shoulder, he appeared hard and remote. Drained of all empathy and human emotion. Not a flicker of recognition as his eyes slid up and down Erik’s body.
Erik couldn’t speak. His throat was clenched.
“You don’t have to do this,” Kees said then.
Erik didn’t dare look back. He imagined Kees rising from behind the row of seats. Not quite standing. Just showing himself. A slightly irritated dread swirled through Erik’s stomach. It made him feel stern. Get down, he thought. You can’t lead here.
But Kees went on speaking. “You can stop, James.” His voice was soft. Deep and gentle. And dangerously useless.
Stand down, Erik thought.
James’s upper lip twitched. Then his whole mouth twisted in contempt. He whipped around fast. A shot rang out. Kees howled. Erik squeezed his eyelids and tightened his jaw as he heard Kees fall between the rows. But Erik did not turn away from James. He stayed still, leaning against side of the seats.
When he opened his eyes again, James stood over him, breathing hard, pointing the gun at Erik’s face. The muzzle was squared at the top, rounded at the bottom. Two circles on its blunt end. One open. One closed. One for death. One for decoration.
Erik shifted his gaze to look James in the eye. He was trembling all over, and he fought not to show he knew it. He set his teeth. Slowly he raised his fist and opened it, showing James what he had. What he had carried with him all this time. He swallowed hard and said, “You’re still in my pocket.”
James blinked then. A bit of clarity seemed to come into his face. Erik kept his eyes steady, acted as if he were standing, towering over James instead of crouched on the floor at his feet. His heart was exploding but he stayed still. He looked at James and tried to think through to him, tried to get James to take him.
I am human valium. Take me. I am the alpha. I lead this pack. I have you in my pocket. I am decent and good. You always liked me. Let me lead. Let me calm you again. You don’t have to do this.
James blinked again, rapidly. Keeping the gun fixed on Erik, he turned his head and looked back at the stage. His eyes swept the rows of seats and then came back to rest on Erik, who still held up his palm with a bit of flattened copper in it.
“This is yours,” Erik said. “This is the best of you and you gave it to me. I had it in my pocket. I didn’t forget.”
James licked his lips, staring down into Erik’s hand.
“The best of me is on the stage,” Erik said, tilting his head. “And I’m going there. She needs my best and I need to be in her pocket. Do you understand?”
James’s eyes swiveled to the side. Then closed. He opened them and a stream of tears fell down his haggard face. He nodded, staring off to his right.
“Thank you, James.” Erik whispered.
James looked at him, his expression startled by this courtesy, just as it had been when Erik offered him tea nearly two weeks ago. His surprise dissolved into a terrible anguish. The nodding head began to shake. He backed away two steps, his free hand to his brow. Frantic, he whirled to the stage, whipped back around and aimed one last time at Erik.
His teeth set together, Erik stared down the omega male.