Page 126 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“Oh,” he said, going back to the frittata and adding mushrooms to the sausage. “Oh wow.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, her lips turning up at the corners as though she was fully aware she had blown his mind. “Don’t freak out about it today,” she said, covering her mouth with a yawn. “Today is for quiet paperwork and takeout. And coffee.” She took a sip. “But do keep it in mind.”

He nodded dumbly, his brain racing with possibilities.

Ellery emerged from the bedroom shortly after that, wearing his own pajamas and a sweatshirt of Jackson’s. Jackson gazed at him fondly as Ellery came next to him and set the teakettle on, hiding his yawn behind his hand. He thought of all the wild changes in the firm Ellery had told him about as they’d fallen asleep the night before, and it hit him.

It could happen, he thought. He wasverygood at his job. After the dust settled, maybe he could give Henry some leads he could pursue while still sedentary so he wouldn’t go insane. Maybe while he and Cody were chasing around, doing a thing the three of them seemed to love a lot, Jackson could add in some inquiries of his own.

Maybe, he thought plaintively, just maybe, that one chapter of his life, the most awful, sordid, and painful one, might not have a terrible ending after all.

“What?” Ellery asked on another yawn, and carefully, so he might not burn the frittata—or burn Ellery with the frittata—he leaned forward and kissed Ellery on the cheek.

“Oh, Ellery,” he murmured, nuzzling Ellery’s temple. “We havesomuch to do.”

Fishlets

A Brief Fishlet Interlude that Is Absolutely Positively Not in Canon

IYKYK

I’m pretty sure if there was anybody yet to be offended by my politics, they’ve already bailed from my reading list. I’m sorry—I tend to be opinionated, and sometimes it jumps out. In this case, I needed to write a catharsis for myself, because while I am fat and slow and arthritic and too old to run around doing shit like Jackson, I still have the heart of a juvenile delinquent, and I had to fight the urge to stomp my little foot and scream, “It’s not fucking fair!” at the moon this November. It turned out, while I was writing a catharsis for myself, I wrote one for so many other people.

This makes me happy.

We all need to howl at the moon sometimes.

P.S.—The surprise hero of this one was John, who, as we saw inBlack John,was a bit of a goofball with a heart that hasn’t completely matured, but only in the best of ways.

Amy Lane

“YOU’RE GOINGout?” Ellery asked plaintively.

Jackson leaned over Ellery’s shoulder and kissed his temple. “I’m sorry, baby. This… I just can’t sit here and watch this on the TV. You know I love you, right?”

“Of course,” Ellery said. That Jackson loved him had never been in doubt.

“Then let me sulk and take my bad mood out by baying at the moon, okay?”

“Okay.” Ellery sighed. He personally planned to watch wildlife documentaries and listen to REM’sEponymousuntil the urge to cry and scream gave him room to breathe.

Jackson’s pocket buzzed, and he didn’t bat an eyelash, just kissed Ellery’s temple again, patted his shoulder, and left.

Ellery wasn’t fooled a bit. Jackson’s pocket had buzzed just before he’d stood up and stalked to the kitchen to put on his shoes and pull on his most ragged hooded sweatshirt.

Something was afoot. Something Jackson felt like Ellery wouldn’t approve of.

Jackson was usually right about things like that, but Ellery had no idea how this particular idea would manifest itself.

Ellery heard the door slam, and then his pocket buzzed twice. He frowned and pulled out his phone, surprised to see texts from Jade, Galen, and Lance.

Okay, I give. What are those assholes doing?

Ellery, could you be so kind as to tell me where my significant other might have gone?

What has Jackson sucked him into now?

Ellery blinked. Oh dear.

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