Vision Quest Page 9

  "I'm sure you have," Arik said, and he was sympathetic, not territorial, which was a little creepy. "You've had to do all kinds of things for the fucking Universe, and maybe it's time somebody else used that line on you."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I think I'm here for you, Blaze. You're here to help me not panic over my mystical shit, resolve it or whatever, but I'm here to use what I've got for or with or on ..." Arik laughed. "I don't know, whatever. You. I'm here for you."

  "Arik, that doesn't make any sense."

  "Sure it does."

  "How do you figure?"

  Arik gave Blaze a scathing look. "I didn't get to where I am in this world by being lazy, Blaze. Give me a little credit for thinking our situation over and figuring out a direction, would you?"

  "Okay," Blaze said, slowly. "Tell me what you've been thinking."

  "I think you were born to a poor, weird family with weirder powers. I think somewhere around puberty, your gift kicked in, and it sent you all over the world on a bunch of wild goose chases that helped out everybody but you. I still don't know how you've done so much so young, but I figure you've been doing nothing but these Quest things since you were a teenager. And I think it's utter shit that you get hurt if you don't fulfill these Visions of yours, and whether that's psychosomatic due to your familial training, I'm not sure, but I believe you when you say it happens. Mostly because that's what my Visions have been about."

  "How so?" Blaze asked. He was dizzy. Arik was hitting too close to home on too many points entirely too casually. Blaze hooked a hand onto the oh-shit handle over the car window.

  "Before I met you, I was seeing red everywhere. And then the goat melting. And even that poor kid in the oil barrel. They all melted or liquidated or... And you said that when you don't do your thing, that's what happens, right?"

  "I start to bleed out, Arik, I'm not sure—"

  "That's okay. You don't have to be sure. I am."

  Blaze didn't know what was worse. Arik being so wrong or Blaze dying for him to be right. "Okay, benefit of the doubt, then," Blaze said. "How do you see this going? What's the endgame?"

  Arik's smile was sad, and he stared at the road ahead. "Don't worry," he said softly. "I get how these things go, and I'm not entertaining fantasies that we'll be together forever or anything so juvenile." Arik's chuckle seemed a bit forced. "I guess I'll be happy to have you for as long as it takes to get you rested up and recovered. And who knows? Maybe we're supposed to be friends, right? I'm the guy you come to in between journeys or something. For some R and R?"

  "Arik—"

  "It's all right. It's not like my life is really conducive to a relationship, Blaze. I work all the time. I've got a life. Sort of." Arik laughed, and again, it was strained. "It's just ... sometimes that life might involve, you know ..." Arik glanced at Blaze and licked his lips. "You."

  Blaze sat in dumbfounded shock for a solid minute. "Arik, that's sweet."

  "I know."

  "And I love that you're ... That you're the kind of person who would believe ... or who would want ..."

  "Blaze?"

  "What?"

  "Spare me, all right?" Arik put the car into park, and Blaze glanced around, startled to find them in a lot near a pier. There was a ferry at the dock. Blaze squinted and saw it was named, Good Fortune. Blaze wanted to weep, and he'd not wept in too many years to contemplate.

  "We're here." Arik yanked Blaze into a quick peck on the lips. "Get your bag, and let's go."

  Numbly, Blaze got out of the car and followed Arik through the steps that would get them onto the ferry headed for Alana Island. It was cooler near the water, and Blaze shivered, trying not to let Arik see him do it.

  Arik. What the hell was Blaze going to do about the guy? He loved that Arik was so sure-footed with purpose. Arik oozed confidence as he confirmed their passage, handed over luggage, and explained that Blaze would carry the bag strapped across Blaze's back. He could even see the logic, spotty due to partial information and too much hope as it was. Some of what Arik said did make sense. Blaze did melt when he didn't obey, but it had to be more complicated than that. It had to be for a cause more centered on Arik than Blaze, because this wretched life was Blaze's to live so long as ... Well. So long as the Universe saw fit to punish him. So long as there were still people who would remember what Blaze had done.

  Blaze found a solitary spot on the ferry's railing to lean, to set down his bag, and to watch the land slide away behind them, and Arik trotted off to buy them some snacks. There was only one other couple aboard, an elderly man and woman who smiled kindly at Blaze, the poor fools. Blaze ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots, still thinking of what he could do about his situation. He knew from experience that when this much Vision information was exchanged between himself and his target this fast, then the Quest was likely to be whirlwind. And Blaze had to keep up the pace. He had to get to the heart of the matter, and fast, else he start to cough up blood and get nosebleeds and worse as the Universe tapped its foot and mashed up his insides in the process. He had to get Arik on track and thinking about how the Visions concerned Arik, not Blaze.

  Blaze bent over and put his chin on the icy railing. Well, what about the connection thing? The spark? Arik likely thought that was more proof of their joined destinies, and Blaze had lied when Arik had asked if it had ever been so strong between Blaze and someone else. And Blaze had lied because he knew what had happened to the last person with whom Blaze had felt such a pull.

  The man had died horribly, slowly, and while begging for his mother, right in front of Blaze, who'd been powerless to stop it. Blaze shook off that nightmare, happy, for once, that it was so old and stale that the hurt was rusty and easy to bury, because it was used to getting shoved into a box, and it couldn't put up much of a fight.

  And, then again, maybe Arik did have a point. The spark had definitely linked Blaze's destiny with the dead man, forevermore. Maybe there was something more there to explore with Arik.

  Because, really, what kind of man met someone with Blaze's tales to tell, had horrific Visions, and still came out on the other side, not even a week later, thinking that all of it had to mean he, Arik, the man in question, was destined to help the crazy guy who had so disrupted his life?

  Blaze stood up. A man who'd been hurt would think that way. A man who'd been taught that he had to serve the insanity in his life, not rise above it, get over it, move beyond it. And one time wouldn't be enough, wouldn't be a pattern. Blaze already hated Arik's father, knew there was definitely more in that deep, dark well to excavate, but there had to be someone else.

  Blaze's contemplation was cut short by Arik wrapping around him from behind. That earned them disapproving looks from the other people on the boat, but Arik didn't seem to notice in the least.

  "Where's the snack, man?" Blaze asked.

  "Didn't get that far." Arik buried his nose in Blaze's hair, holding on a little too tightly.

  "Hey." Blaze rubbed Arik's wrist. "What's up?"

  "Nothing." Arik took a shaky breath. "Something."

  "Yeah?"

  "Saw it again."

  "Which?"

  "The melting thing."

  "Shit." Blaze tried to turn, but Arik wouldn't let him. "Where? Who?" Blaze asked.

  "The vendor guy. Same story. Eyeballs fell out, everything melted to a gore puddle." Arik shuddered. "And he reached for me."

  "Shit," Blaze repeated, but gently. He crossed his arms over Arik's.

  "Yeah."

  "Arik, it's going to be—"

  "I know."

  "But I think—"

  Arik's sigh was a gush of hot air. "Just shut up and let me hold you, okay?" Arik swallowed. "No talking. No questions. Just holding." Quieter: "Please?"

  Blaze fell silent, and he closed his eyes when Arik's lips brushed his pulse. It was comfort, not enticement, but Blaze's blood didn't seem to know that. The wind and the cold spray of the sea helped, and
Blaze started to shiver, again.

  "Man, I want a fire," Blaze said after long, long moments of the two of them entwined at the railing.

  "This place has fireplaces. Real wood burning ones and the works."

  "Nice."

  "I think you'll like it."

  Blaze waited until the initial panic and need had subsided enough that Arik stood straight and tall behind Blaze, still hugging him. "Arik?"

  "Mm?"

  "Who was the last guy?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Boyfriend, you know? There's had to be somebody. You're too you for there not to have been."

  Arik chuckled, and it almost hid the tension Blaze felt in Arik's body. Almost. "There was someone. Long time ago."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well?"

  "Well what?" Arik asked, deliberately obtuse.

  Blaze elbowed him. "What happened?"

  "I don't know," Arik said, and Blaze could hear Arik working not to be the kind of defensive he got when asked about himself. "We were together. It didn't work out. It ended badly. That's it."

  "That's it?" Blaze repeated, but made it a question.

  Arik grumbled, inarticulate. "Yeah."

  "Oh come on."

  "What about you?" Arik asked, defiant, now.

  Blaze smiled at the lapping water and the approaching land. Sandy dunes spotted with tall grass crested in gently rolling hills beyond the dock. He could see a limo awaiting their arrival, along with a few other cars. There were trees and a seaside road, twisting along the water's edge heading toward a distant cluster of civilization.

  "There was a boy," Blaze said, barely louder than the wind. "We were together. It didn't work out. It ended very badly. I wish that was it."

  "Blaze..."

  The ferry's horn sounded, and made them both jump. The engine chugged to a stop, and the boat rocked as it maneuvered into place against the dock. Silently, Arik and Blaze held onto one another until the passenger gangplank was in position. They were invited to disembark, and Arik lead the way. He picked up his bag, took Blaze's hand, and together they walked up damp stairs to the gravel lot where the limo waited. It was a long, dull grey thing, but the driver was young, tall, and blond. He smiled at them.

  "Welcome to Alana Island, gentleman," the driver said, graciously sweeping a bow and bending to get Arik's bag. "Home of the best upscale shopping experiences, finest dining, most exuberant nightlife, and, of course, our destination," he smiled, and it felt like someone stamped the seal of Blaze's fate.

  "The Fireward Hotel and Resort."

  Arik

  There was a tension in Blaze's tone and stance that annoyed Arik to no end. This was supposed to be enjoyable—something cool and new, exciting and adventurous. And that kind of cool didn't come cheap; not that Arik didn't have more than his fair share of expendable income. But he hadn't amassed those funds by throwing them into the wind on a whim. So as much as the thought was, if not outright smug, then at least ignorant, Arik had expected some kind of appreciation. A flicker of interest would have been nice. He most certainly hadn't been expecting Blaze to tighten up into a ball of nerves, or to be frowning at the driver as though the man had just said: "Please step inside. Satan's waiting."

  Right. It's the money that's bothering you.

  Maybe Blaze was just nervous over the loss of control? Perhaps Blaze was offended by the fact that Arik had jumped at something without negotiation or warning? Maybe Blaze was just letting himself get wound up over what he believed was going to happen if he didn't "get on the case," so to speak?

  Or ... Arik caught Blaze's gaze and smiled, attempting to mask the way his heart lurched with his next thought. Maybe Blaze was caught up in musing over a certain lost boy and a "very badly" ended relationship. A relationship that Blaze wished had gone better. Did he still? When Blaze closed his eyes and groaned over contact, was he seeing somebody else's smile?

  Arik's fists clenched. His jaw hardened. He told himself the emotion wasn't jealousy. He insisted it was anger. One couldn't be jealous of what had been. One had no right even to consider jealousy when the concepts had been explained, and the outcome already decided. So it had to be outrage—vengeful, spiteful, fury.

  Sure, Arik ... it's Blaze that's got you upset.

  Arik took a breath, nodded at nothing, and stepped toward the door being held open by the driver. He was offered a bright smile and a flash from the driver's intense green eyes. Pretty. Like spring grass. The kind of sweet grass one would expect to see being ground between the yellowed, square teeth of livestock ... Arik tore his gaze away, and forced himself to climb into the back of the limo.

  "You coming?" Arik peered through the opening, not tucking back to the right side of the seat until Blaze moved toward the car. Blaze was granted the same stunning smile from the driver that Arik had been, gave an uncomfortable grin back, and slid in beside Arik.

  "He's cute," Blaze whispered, nudging Arik's side with a light elbow dig.

  Arik cleared his throat, and trailed his line of sight over the driver again, avoiding the man's eyes. "He's all right. Not nearly as cute as you are."

  Flash images of a sweaty, panting threesome threatened Arik's focus for a moment, and he turned his eyes away in disgust. Not a vision. Definitely hadn't felt like one, anyway. Not even a shared moment of recollection. It had just been his own head's attempt at making him miserable—at fueling the green-eyed witch setting up camp in his soul. Which was stupid. After all, he'd just stood there, right there, on that ferry, and told Blaze that he'd be willing to be "that" guy. The one who was "there." Who'd wait around. Let Blaze come stumbling back into town. Whenever. If ever.

  So now we're telling ourselves that it's your love life, are we, Arik?

  Arik closed his eyes, and dropped his head back on the seat, willing the voice pinging inside his skull into silence. Nothing was going to wreck this. This was going to be fun. They were going to—

  "Another vision?"

  Blaze's expression was warm, sincere, concerned. His voice was quiet and respectful. But the question made Arik want to growl.

  "No. Headache."

  A frown played across Blaze's forehead. He turned to reach for the silver toggle that would activate the divider between them and the driver. "Excuse me," Blaze smiled into the front seat. "This needs to be private."

  The driver's, "Of course, sir," was lost to the ascent of glass. A light in the back seat brightened to automatically adjust for the loss of daylight, and Blaze fiddled with the other controls until he found that one that would turn it off.

  "Okay." Blaze turned to look at Arik and rested a palm on Arik's knee. The now-familiar buzz of desire and need, of connection and stimulation, began to flow between them, and Arik couldn't stop himself. He reached out, snagged Blaze's hand, and gripped it hard enough to make Blaze startle. Blaze didn't pull away, though. Instead, Blaze lifted both their fists and kissed Arik's knuckles with the same ferocity that Arik gripped.

  "Now," Blaze started again. "We should talk about what you saw on the ferry. The snack vendor—"

  "He died, didn't he?" The words tumbled out of Arik's mouth before he even realized he was going to ask them.

  "Wait—" Blaze tilted his head, confused. "He died?"

  "Your lover," Arik frowned.

  "My ..." Understanding dawned on Blaze's face. "Oh. My ..." Blaze huffed a short sigh and rolled his neck. "So your vision? On the boat?"

  "Your lover," Arik prompted again.

  Blaze sat back and caught a breath. "This is not the time to discuss my past. There are more important things that we need to talk about right now—"

  "Did you love him?"

  A different voice, far less mocking, yet insistently firm, jumped in with its warning: Shut up, Arik. Don't do this.

  Yet even as the words rolled through Arik's head, he ignored them to repeat the question when Blaze didn't respond. "Did you love him?"

  "Yes. Madly."

 
; The tone of Blaze's reply seemed to break something vital inside Arik's chest. It wasn't clipped or hard like Blaze's responses had been in the hotel or on the ferry. It was sad. Tired. It was a tone that said, "Please don't."

  "And you?" Blaze asked. "Did you love your Mr. Long Time Ago?"

  "I thought I did." Arik shrugged. "But afterwards, you know, well, it's kind of hard to keep saying that you were in love with someone who you find out was so terribly not in love with you. But I think I did. I missed him when he was gone."

  "So are you saying that you think the vision has something to do with—?"

  "Jesus." Arik pulled his hand away and turned toward the window.

  Blaze paused. Though Arik couldn't see his face, he could almost hear the gears of Blaze's mind grinding to try and work with that comment. "You think the vision had something to do with Jesus?"

  Arik snarled at his own reflection in the tinted window; the attempt at humor lost on him. "It was short for Jesus Fucking Christ, Blaze! Enough of the vision questions. Let it go."

  Seconds turned to minutes while silence crawled through the limo. Arik had no idea what Blaze was doing beside him; he couldn't turn to check. He was too busy keeping emotion from crowding into the corner of his eyes.

  Not sadness. Not even the previously considered jealousy or anger. The tension, the aches, even the nudges of conscience had not a damn thing to do with the lie Arik had told himself about wasted cash. Or wounded pride over the lack of kudos. It wasn't about lost chances, or memories of other lovers. It wasn't even the dismal mental images of future nights sitting alone and forgotten.

  A chill spread through Arik's body like winter frost growing on glass.

  Spending one's life sifting through universal suggestion was one thing. Having an eye for the differences between coincidence and meaningful potential wasn't that much of a "thing." Any financial advisor or stock investor that was worth their salt could attest to that.

  This was different. This was getting different, anyway. These images weren't flashes of red or blue or yellow out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't the sound of bells, or the recurring placement of a rose. What Arik had been seeing, the games his eyes or mind or heart or, fuck, every piece of him in tandem, had been playing ... they were nightmares.