Page 41 of Patron of Mercy

“Come on, stick in the mud,” Lach demanded as the band started their first encore. “You can’t just stand there and watch a concert this epic!”

And he threw his arms around Thanatos and danced.

So Thanatos danced with him.

Dionysus caught his eye from across the crowd and winked. Thanatos, head a little fuzzy from the cups of wine Lach had kept pressing into his hands, smiled back.

The band played until the workers at the venue got antsy and started to push for an end, but even that took longer than it should have. Dionysus was quite the influence.

It was well after midnight when they finally found themselves outside, the concert over and the still-drunken revelers heading off in every direction.

Lach, sleepy and warm, grabbed his arm and clung like a barnacle. “That was awesome. Tell me that wasn’t awesome.”

“Are you asking me to lie to you?”

That earned him a half-hearted smack to his chest. “Funny guy. You know what I mean.”

“It was good, Lach. I enjoyed it,” he admitted. He didn’t even hesitate. He was done lying to himself about it. What was the point? Thousands of years since he’d seen Lach, and his feelings, though slightly more fraught than before, hadn’t changed all that much.

He was still in love with him.

Thanatos wasn’t sure he’d ever been out of love with Lach, even when he had hated him. Both hurt, so what difference did it make?

Lach laughed into his shoulder. “Called it.” He turned his head so his lips almost brushed Thanatos’s earlobe, and started singing, surprisingly in tune for a man who’d had so much to drink.

Having just heard it, Thanatos knew full well how that particular ballad’s chorus went, and he needed to nip the singing in the bud. He wasn’t sure if he could handle Lach’s low, breathy voice singing, “Babe, I love you,” directly in his ear.

“Time to get back to the boat, I think,” he announced aloud, rolling Lach’s head off his shoulder.

“Aww, but that’s miles away,” Lach whined.

Thanatos looked at him, eyebrow raised. “You knew that before you went to a concert, stayed until the middle of the night, and drank all that wine.”

Lach sighed like a child but nodded. Then his eyes lit up. “But you can take us there. You know, travel by god.”

“You of all people know it’s not that simple. I could take us to the cemetery between here and there, but it’s still a long way from there.” Thanatos looked around and realized he didn’t even remember which way the marina was. Maybe it would be easier to go back to the cemetery.

Or maybe...

He closed his eyes and thought of the boat he’d spent the last two weeks of his life on. Surely a connection had formed, even if he weren’t exactly being worshipped there. He reached out and drew himself toward its thread, allowing his physical contact with Lach to draw the other man along as well.

A second later they were standing in front of the boat, and Thanatos felt rather accomplished.

Then he remembered the reason Lach had said they had to travel by boat. He turned, worried, half expecting him to be bringing all that wine back up, but Lach was just staring up at him, lazy smile on his face. He didn’t even look dizzy, much less sick.

Thanatos’s blood turned to ice. “You lied to me. Again.” He took a step back from Lach, his fists clenching so tight they ached. Lach stumbled, and the urge he had to reach out and help made him even angrier. “I can’t trust a thing you say, can I?”

Dark Below Deck

Thanatos jerked away from him, and Lach staggered to close the distance. No luck—like two magnets with the same polarity, Thanatos shifted, maintaining the distance between them until Lach stopped trying.

“What are you talking about?” Lach asked. Just a few minutes ago, they’d been at a fantastic concert. It hadn’t been a date, but it was the closest Lach had gotten to one in decades. It should have been a date, really. If Lach had any sense, he’d have asked Thanatos out for real—not weaseled his way into spending a day together but been upfront about what he wanted. Now, Thanatos was looking at him like he’d kicked Cerberus.

Lach held up his hands placatingly. “Whatever I did, Thanatos, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever you did?” Thanatos scoffed. “You can’t even keep track of your own lies.”

All Lach could do was stare at Thanatos as fury darkened his features. He’d never had cause to be afraid of Thanatos before, and he wasn’t now, but perhaps he should have been.

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