Page 1 of Refrain
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Xane
Early June. Southampton, UK.
“Don’t die. I’ll never fucking forgive you if you die.”
The miserable rain wouldn’t let up. It dripped into his eyes and hammered incessantly against Xane’s head and back as he folded himself over Spook’s prone form. The cacophony of it drummed in his ears in place of the heartbeat he was frantically trying to detect. “Spook. Goddammit. Please.”
What did he do? What the fuck did he do?
Why wouldn’t his fingers work?
He managed to wrestle his phone from his pocket. “Ambulance,” he barked at it. So many questions. Too many that he didn’t have answers to. The moment the operator ended the call he hit speed dial for Luthor. “Shipping containers about a hundred yards from the bus. Spook’s out cold. He’s been attacked.”
“Badly hurt?” his boyfriend asked.
“There’s blood everywhere. He’s a fucking mess.”
“Tell me you called an ambulance first?”
“Course. Fucking get here. Please.”
“Hang tight. I’m already on my way.”
Luthor continued to talk to him, but Xane dropped the phone, so that he could strip off his leather jacket and gently cover Spook’s shoulders. It did little to keep off the rain. Fucking weather never cut you a break when you needed one. By the time Luthor skidded to a halt beside him, Xane was wet through and shaking so hard he could barely communicate.
His lover dropped the bus’s first aid kit between them but didn’t bother opening it. Sticking plasters weren’t going to cut it. He fell onto his bare knees and entwined Xane in a rough hug. “Ash is watching for the ambulance. Help’s coming. Who did this? Xane… Who did this?”
“I don’t know,” he croaked into the warmth of Luthor’s shoulder. “Is he breathing? I don’t know if he’s still breathing.”
Heedless of the dirty red puddle, Luthor leaned right down so that his cheek was on a level with Spook’s mouth. “He is. He’s still with us, Xane. He’s hanging in there. What he needs is for you to do the same. Take a breath for me, eh?”
His hand touched Xane’s face, bringing both focus and comfort.
“Steve,” he blurted. “He wasn’t nearly this badly…” That event was imprinted directly over the top of the present. Steve, blood erupting from his nose in a gush outside the casino in Monte Carlo. Red everywhere. Red as the pool they were kneeling in. Red as the rivulets coursing over Steve’s parted lips and mingling with the hairs of his designer scruff. Red as spilled ketchup. Red as the entire right side of Spook’s head.
He should have stayed with him. Should never have taken his eyes off him.
“Xane. It’ll be okay.”
The gleam in Luthor’s mismatched eyes was too bright. “Don’t promise me. You don’t know that.”
“What happened to Steve was a freak accident. He was alone. This isn’t the same. We’re right here and you don’t have to let Spook out of your sight, not for a second. Nothing’s going to spirit him away. You can ride with him to the hospital. They’ll be here soon. But only if you keep it together, otherwise you’re no use to him. Do you understand me, Xane? Nod that you understand.”
“I get it. Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
He shivered, desperate to rid himself of the clammy sensation creeping over his skin. “I’m good.”
Luthor squeezed his arm. “Another few minutes, that’s all.”
The sound of running feet had them both turning. Rock Giant’s moss green hair settled like fronds of seaweed over his eyes as he slid to a halt, sending a spray of water into the air. “Which bastard did this?”
Ronnie Bush shunted in behind him, canopying them with a corporate golfing umbrella. “Shouldn’t we get him out of the puddle?”
“I don’t think we should move him.” Luthor reached a protective arm over Spook’s prone form. “Let’s leave it to the experts, eh? He’s not at risk of drowning, only of getting cold.” On cue, Rock Giant shrugged off his coat, and spread it overtop of Xane’s jacket. “Where’s Alle? Has someone told her?”
