Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

He suspected the change, whatever it was, went right down to his blood chemistry. He wondered what his cells looked like under a microscope, after six weeks with Lilith. And what if he stopped reverting, afterward? Built up or destroyed some kind of immunity? What if the damage were cumulative?

Yeah, like that would stop you.

Lilith had said she didn’t think it worked that way. But he didn’t discuss her past with her; what was she basing that on? She didn’t let many people come back, the way she did Bailey. In fact, so far as he knew, he was the only one.

So: One day in mid-March, without any warning, she would be gone. And she wouldn’t be at the New York address, or any other address he knew about; and if he ever broke the rules and sent her a personal letter, or got her on the phone, he had a pretty good idea that this arrangement would be over permanently.

The soft air through the shutters felt glorious. It could be worse, he supposed, as he burrowed back into the sheets for an extra hour’s sleep. There are a lot of ways for people to go missing. One of the things he liked best about Lilith was knowing that he was never going to find her component parts stuffed in a Dumpster in some alley. Just one of the many benefits, he thought drowsily, of sleeping with the most efficient predator he’d ever met…

“Check it out,” said Teej. “I’m learning to cook.”

He brought the pan right out to Bailey’s plate, on the wicker table on the patio. The sun was straight up, dead noon, and the wind rippled through the fringe of the overhead umbrella.

And the omelet wasn’t bad at all; carefully browned on the outside, with bits of fruit and sour cream within. It was a professional job, though Bailey couldn’t help but wonder, once again, when Teej was going to do something with his life besides run Lilith’s daytime errands. Although… he looked again. The Teej of three years ago had been battered-looking, closed-off; a pinched face and a bad haircut. This Teej was confident, relaxed, consistently charming. Bailey would be willing to bet that this Teej used a condom. And it occurred to him to wonder who owned the Columbia College catalogue he’d seen in the bathroom.

“So,” said Teej. He pulled out the other chair and sat down, elbows on the table. “You here on a case?”

Bailey smiled. “Yes, Teej, I’m here on a case.” He finished up the last of the omelet, wiped up the residue of butter with his croissant, and raised the cup of Jamaican Blue coffee. Damn, the kid was definitely spending more time in the gourmet aisle of the supermarket. Bailey remembered when he’d come home with bags of Cheese Doodles and Hostess cupcakes.

“You’re not going to tell me about it?” That slight edge of hurt, as though he couldn’t quite believe Bailey would disappoint him.

“It’s a missing persons case.”

“Well, no kidding.”

When he did not seem disposed to go further, Teej sighed. “You’re no fun when you’re being responsible.”

Bailey smiled. Teej probably just wanted to talk for a while, maybe show off a little about the stuff he’d learned in the last year. Bailey didn’t mind; the kid didn’t seem to have any family to bring home report cards to.

“Are you on a schedule?” Teej asked. “We’ve got a deck of cards, and I found a Trivial Pursuit game in the closet when we moved in. Or we can play when you get back.”

It was tempting in a way, but—“No, I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Damn, he shouldn’t have phrased it that way—now Teej was looking at him strangely, and Bailey had to figure out how to answer that question.

“I like a nice, friendly game—”

“I play a nice, friendly game!” Teej protested.

Bailey looked at him. “I don’t.”

The silence held for several beats. Internally, Bailey sighed. If only he were one of those people who liked being compulsive. If the cells of his nervous system ever got the vote, he’d be spending that portion of his life not already defaced on his back, lying beside a stream with a cooler of beer. Or he would be, if only he weren’t constitutionally unable to walk away from unfinished business.

Of course his clients loved him. He was a fucking neurotic.

Change the subject.

“New car, huh?”

Teej accepted it, bless him. “We’re leasing it from a local dealer.”

“But a convertible?” Bailey inquired. He glanced sunward meaningfully.

“New toy,” said Teej, grinning again. “She likes to drive it around at night.”

She wasn’t the only one who liked to play with it, apparently. Bailey grinned himself. “Great,” he said, “it’ll save me the price of a rental.”

Teej stared at him in melodramatic betrayal for a moment, then laughed and handed him the keys.