Carousel Page 3
The can of mineral spirits exploded, hurling fragments of tin in every direction. I flung myself down, dragging him with me. “Are you insane?” I demanded.
“I didn’t think it would do that!” he protested. And he wondered why I considered his dabbling in sorcery a horrible danger.
Flames roared through the carousel. In the flickering, leaping light, the carved animals had again shifted without my noticing, their painted eyes fixed on the two of us. Those between the automata and us had extended their legs to the fullest, as if they sought to gallop away—or to obstruct the smiling wooden horrors.
I could hear the whispers now even without pressing my ear to the carved animals. Only now the sounds were the screams of horses, the haunting cries of swans, the final roar of a tiger.
The carved animals had hampered the automata, but now they were almost on us. I hauled Whyborne up and ran, ducking and weaving between the charging horses and prancing giraffes, the snarling tigers and fluttering swans. Black smoke boiled from the growing fire, and I yanked the edge of my suit coat across my mouth, struggling to breathe.
The mineral spirits coating the automata went up from the heat of the flames, transforming them into a pair of torches. Their arms flailed like those of burning men, but no sound escaped them. The paint on their faces began to bubble, but their carven lips still turned upward into smiles.
I dragged Whyborne through the roiling smoke in the direction I hoped led to the exit. A few seconds later, we tumbled out into the clear air and snow. I coughed and spat out phlegm black from the soot. As I stood, the wooden hand still gripping my arm began to slacken… then slowly fell away altogether.
“Fire cleanses,” Whyborne said, his voice rough. He gazed solemnly at the burning carousel, as if at a funeral pyre. And perhaps, in a way, it was. “If any consciousness remained trapped in the carvings… Well, they will be free now. It wouldn’t hurt to set the workshop on fire as well, before we go.”
We walked back to the workshop, hand in hand. Whyborne let out a soft gasp when he reached the door. The old carver’s body lay curled on the floor, a desiccated husk like the shed skin of some insectile thing.
I upended an entire can of mineral spirits on it, just to be sure, and we left the workshop in flames behind us.
A column of dark smoke already filled the night sky from the direction of the carousel. “We should hurry, before the fire companies arrive,” I remarked.
“We do seem to find ourselves saying that rather frequently,” Whyborne replied.
“It can be our motto. We’ll have it worked on a heraldic shield. I imagine it sounds far better in Latin.”
He snorted and took my hand. “Come on. Let’s return Reggie to his family.”
VI.
By the time we reached the Daltons’ apartment, Reggie revived enough to speak.
“No, stop,” he mumbled as we reached his family’s door.
“It’s all right,” I said as Whyborne knocked. His body felt so small in my arms. “The old man is gone.”
Reggie frowned up at me in confusion. “I had a dream…”
“That’s all it was. Time to wake up.”
His parents and brother flung their arms about him, weeping with joy. Then Mrs. Dalton embraced Whyborne, swearing eternal gratitude. It was everything I could do not to laugh aloud at the look on his face.
When we left, Timothy and Reggie curled together on their bed, the wooden train across both their laps. Reggie leaned groggily against his younger brother, who held him tight, as if having failed once, he meant to keep away all the bad things in the world from now on.
“A good day’s work,” I said as we let ourselves into the house. Saul ran inside after us and went to investigate his food bowl.
“To be finished with a good bath, I hope,” Whyborne replied, brushing at the soot stains on his coat.
“Most certainly.”
Our house had running water, but wasn’t quite new enough to have a dedicated bathing room. After locking up and drawing the curtains, we fetched the tin bathtub and carried it into the kitchen. I connected a pair of hoses to the hot and cold taps at the sink and used them to fill the tub while Whyborne gathered towels, soap, sponge, and shampoo paste.
When I’d bought the house, I’d purchased only the standard sized tub. But after Whyborne moved in, we’d agreed the larger tub was worth the cost of five dollars. So I stripped off my sooty clothing and set it aside with some anticipation.
Whyborne returned just as I shut off the taps. His face lit with an appreciative smile upon seeing me naked.
“Shall I scrub your back?” I offered.
“To begin with,” he agreed.
I climbed into the steaming water, grateful for its warmth. Whyborne undressed, shivering a bit in the chilly air. I had been with men society would declare more handsome, yet something about him stirred me from the first moment I saw him, all long limbs and spiky hair, his eyes beautiful even given his tendency to squint.
Not to suggest his eyes were the only unusually attractive portion of his anatomy. But I’d not seen the other until after I’d already lost my heart to him.
He climbed into the bath with me, the water rising dangerously close to the lip as he settled between my legs, his back against my chest.
The touch of his bare skin seldom failed to bring my cock to attention, and tonight proved no exception. I lathered up the sponge and ran it over his chest, pausing to toy with the nipples. He made a soft sound of pleasure and tipped his head back for a kiss.
“You worried me,” I murmured against his lips. “When you ran off with those awful things after you. I was terrified I wouldn’t get to you in time.”
“I had a plan,” he protested.
“I didn’t mean it as a criticism, my dear.” I kissed him again, the sponge dipping lower. “Without your bravery, things would have gone very differently tonight.”
“I’m not the brave one,” he said.
I nipped the nape of his neck lightly with my teeth, making him yelp. “You helped a great deal with my investigation,” I murmured against his skin. “It’s only fair you get your reward.”
He flashed me a heated look over his shoulder. “Then give it to me.”
I abandoned the sponge and explored lower with my fingers. His cock poked up eagerly to meet my touch. I rubbed the head, drew a groan from him. “Get on your knees.”
He obeyed immediately, bracing himself on the sides of the tub. I rose onto my knees as well. His crease was slippery from the soap, so I pressed my cock between his buttocks even as I wrapped my fingers around his erection.
I drew a moan from him, and he pushed back against me. I kissed his back, my prick sliding deliciously in the cleft of his ass. His cock was hard in my hand, and I tugged him in time with my movements.
He grunted my name, helpless with lust. I closed my eyes, breathing deep of his scent, like a fresh sea breeze. Everything I needed was here in my arms: his body, his passion, him. He was home, as truly as any home I’d ever known, and the moments of peril only made those of peace all the sweeter.
“Griffin, please, faster,” he begged, and I complied. I rubbed against him, his buttocks tight, my cock sliding across his hole and making him gasp. His prick stiffened further in my grip—then he bucked against me, body shaking as he cried out, spilling over my fingers and into the bath.
The sweet friction against my prick, combined with his climax, drove me over the edge a moment later. I let go of his cock, gripped his hips, and rutted hard against him until I shook and moaned and came.
Boneless, I collapsed back into the tub, sending water splashing over the sides. At the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Whyborne settled against me, equally limp.
We didn’t speak for a while. My mind drifted from the sated present to when we’d taken Reggie home. How happy his family had been. How his brother cried with joy to have him back.
This was my home. Here with Saul and my Ival. I’d been
so afraid to try to find my brothers… but even if they rejected me, I’d still have this. Still have the man in my arms. Nothing would change that.
“I love you, Ival,” I murmured into his hair.
He snuggled more tightly back against me. “I love you, too.”
“I think… I think I’ll send the letter tomorrow.”
He tensed against me for a moment. Then he relaxed and took my hand in his, twining our fingers together. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
I kissed him gratefully and held him until the bathwater grew cold.
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Other books from Jordan L. Hawk:
Hainted
Whyborne & Griffin:
Widdershins
Threshold
Stormhaven
Necropolis
Bloodline
Hoarfrost
Spirits:
Restless Spirits
Dangerous Spirits (forthcoming)
SPECTR
Series 1:
Hunter of Demons
Master of Ghouls
Reaper of Souls
Eater of Lives
Destroyer of Worlds
Summoner of Storms
Series 2:
Mocker of Ravens
Short stories:
Heart of the Dragon
After the Fall (in the Allegories of the Tarot anthology)
Eidolon (A Whyborne & Griffin short story)
Remnant, written with KJ Charles (A Whyborne & Griffin / Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal story)
Carousel (A Whyborne & Griffin short story)
About The Author
Jordan L. Hawk grew up in North Carolina and forgot to ever leave. Childhood tales of mountain ghosts and mysterious creatures gave her a life-long love of things that go bump in the night. When she isn’t writing, she brews her own beer and tries to keep her cats from destroying the house. Her best-selling Whyborne & Griffin series (beginning with Widdershins) can be found in print, ebook, and audiobook.
If you’re interested in receiving Jordan’s newsletter and being the first to know when new books are released, plus getting sneak peeks at upcoming novels, please sign up at her website: http://www.jordanlhawk.com.
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