I groaned again. Why did I have to be sick the week I had the opportunity to write something good? I murmured a goodbye, hung up and curled an arm over my forehead.
That’s when Quinn poked his head around my door. “Just gonna hurry to the laundry room so I can dry these. When I come back, we’re watching a movie.”
True to his word, when returned he set his laptop on the end of the bed and turned on Batman.
Watching the vigilantes reap justice had me dreaming of my own vigilante. I sank against the mountain of pillows at my back and pulled the blankets up to my chin.
That cold itch was coming back. “I’m glad for The Raven,” I suddenly said. “For that night. He saved me. I want to do the same for him.”
“If he wears a hood to protect his identity, I’d say he doesn’t want to be found.”
I shivered, twisting onto my side, my arms and feet stretching toward Quinn’s side of the bed, searching for warmth. He sensed the change and shuffled closer, gently tucking the blankets tightly to my sides.
Through chattering teeth, I asked, “Was this what I should have done when you were sick?”
His profile, layered in colored light from the small screen, tilted toward me. “Nah, you did just fine.”
I shut my eyes, straining to feel more warmth than just those words. “Two more questions, Quinn. Did you have any pets? And, when is your birthday?”
Chapter 10
Beeswax and booze and fake blood. Lots of fake blood. A mixture of wealth and boredom decorated the mansion.
I took a deep breath, rearranging the cowl on the knight costume Quinn had thought all three of us guys should wear. I wasn’t sure where he was going with the idea, or if the store had run out of all other costumes, but there we were in helmets, cowls, black shirts, tunics, maroon belts to match our leggings, and boots with a good one-inch heel.
It was far more comfortable than I’d have thought.
“What are we waiting for?” Hunter asked and rolled to the doorbell. He buzzed, and the door swung in. Nobody greeted us in the foyer, though the hollow breathing of someone standing behind the door indicated we were not alone.
A creepy coating of dust and cobwebs covered the surfaces and signposts pointing toward the party. Shannon, who dressed up as Zsadist—some warrior-vampire character I’d never heard of—drew out a fake dagger she’d slipped into her shit-kickers. “Fear fucking not,” she said, scooting to the front. “I’ll lead the way.”
Children’s voices started singing, interrupted by a scream that echoed through the dark hall. I inched toward Quinn with as much subtlety as I could muster. Logically, I knew there was nothing to be frightened about—
More screams and quickly-moving shadows. My mind filled with images of Freddy Krueger lurking in a bedroom doorway, waiting to jump out. My step faltered and I rippled with a shudder.
“Are you sure you want to be here, Liam?” Quinn’s voice crackled, as if undecided whether to whisper or speak normally.
I straightened and veered away from Quinn to prove I could handle the rest of the night just fine.
“Because I can take you home,” he added quietly as he took off his helmet. He ran a hand through his hair and tucked the helmet under his other arm. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be here.”
“I have a column to write.” Absently, I patted the synthetic pouch hooked onto my belt that carried my notebook and pen. “That’s my priority. The whole reason I’m here.”
“No other reason to be at a party, is there?” I didn’t fail to notice the sarcasm.
We turned a corner and the hall widened into a large room with a dark mahogany staircase snaking up to the next level.
Pounding footsteps came behind us. A zombie football team charged down the hall. “Race you up!” one of them yelled.
They burst past us on either side, forcing Quinn and I to inch nearer. His arm pressed against mine as the convoy streamed around us and dodged Hunter and Shannon at the bottom of the stairs.
“Zombies?” I shook my head. “Seem more like roadrunners to me.”
A grin twitched Quinn’s lips but it faltered again as Shannon called out. “No damn elevator. Give us a hand?”
Quinn passed me his silver helmet and strutted to Hunter, hands on his hips, swagger in his tone. “Looks like it’s the white knight to the rescue.”
Hunter snorted and wrapped his arms around Quinn. “You’re maroon, bro. And it’s not your best color.”
Quinn hooked one arm around Hunter’s back and the other under Hunter’s knees, and carefully lifted him. With a cheeky smile, Quinn dipped Hunter. His gaze lifted to mine for a second before he bumped his nose against Hunter’s. “One kiss, my sweet, bonny lad. I’m after a prize tonight—”