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Alex Stern hadn’t expected to go home for the winter holidays. The previous year, in the wake of Darlington’s disappearance, Alex had holed up at Il Bastone with a fridge full of Dawes’ homemade food and her reading. In those four weeks Alex had managed to read several of the books for her classes the following semester, not that they made sense to her. On the last day of Hanukkah Mira Stern had called her daughter to wish her a happy season and say she missed her little star.
Now in her second year at Yale it had seemed unthinkable to not take the long plane ride back to sunny Los Angeles. Darlington had been restored to his rightful place in the Virgil bedroom with a new set of horns. Even though the door to Hell stood open. Regardless of how demons slowly trickled out across the frosted New Haven ground. Dawes, Darlington, and Turner had promised to bar the way of any world-ending apocalypse until she and Mercy returned to Yale.
She lay in what had once been her bedroom. Mira had transformed it in her absence. The room was now part yoga retreat part guest space. The futon she lay on was old. It smelled like the homemade solid perfumes her mother bought at the farmer's markets. Tuberose, patchouli, and germanium seemed to permeate the organic cotton sheets that covered the cushion. Alex wondered as she lay awake if it was the same futon she’d been sick on as a child. Its geometric pattern of orange, pink, and teal triangles was still burned into her mind.
Perhaps she should have accepted Mira’s offer of chamomile tea. Alex longed to shut her eyes and drift into dreamless sleep, but her thoughts rattled around her mind like a marble in a tin can. Those thoughts were just loud enough to keep her awake, but not loud enough to incite action.
Alex tried counting car headlights as they illuminated the room’s window. The gauzy curtains hung there did little to dim the bright light of them. Then she tried singing herself to sleep. A slow easy song that would keep the greys away.
Just as her eyes slid closed the smell of the uncanny reached her nose. A rush of air followed. Alex’s eyes snapped open. She did her best to glance around the room without moving. Had something discovered her here? Had the wards she had drawn around the tiny apartment not been enough?
“Stern?”
Her body relaxed as the familiar New England lilt of Darlington’s voice reached her ears. She turned her head to see him standing in the opening of a portal beside the closet. The kitchen of Il Bastone shimmered behind him. Was that Dawes standing behind him? Was she wearing a dress?
“Is everything ok? Did another demon….”
Darlington put his hand out to stop her. “No demon attacks. No world-ending emergencies.”
Alex’s face must have said everything racing through her skull. Darlington sighed, “Dawes wanted to make sure you could attend a little soiree.”
As she pulled herself to standing, Alex looked down at her pajamas. The thin tank and boy short panties were not exactly appropriate party attire. Alex could feel Darlington’s gaze rake over her. It didn’t feel like when Len or his friends had looked at her. With them, she felt like a piece of meat. With Darlington, it felt like he was studying her. She was one of the thousands of paintings in Yale’s art collection and he was a passerby captivated by her image.
“I don’t have anything…”
Mercy appeared behind Darlington. Her hair was arranged in a complicated braided knot. “But I do. And surprise surprise, it's just your size.”
Blackened green velvet appeared to the right of Darlington. The fabric swayed slowly from the wooden hanger in Mercy’s hand.
“I don’t…” Alex’s words died in her mouth as Mercy wiggled her eyebrows. She should just trust her roommate. Mercy was five steps ahead, as always.
Darlington reached his hand out to her. “Come on along Stern. The portal won’t hold much longer.”
“You’ll be able to bring me back when this shindig is over right?” Alex hopped her voice was light and joking instead of worried. “Wouldn’t want to have to explain to my mother how I ended up back at school overnight.”
“When you’re ready, we’ll open another portal,” Darlington assured her. It didn’t hurt that he shot her his most convincing smile as well.
Alex took his hand. She could feel the power that coursed between them even with such a simple touch. She swore the golden horns flicked into existence for just a moment before disappearing. Darlington’s free hand scratched at his temple as if the bony appendages itched.
She stepped through the portal with Darlington beside her. The rippling edges of reality snapped closed behind them with a small pop. They were in the kitchen of Il Bastone. The old house smelled like the season. Notes of balsam, clove, cinnamon, and lemon filled Alex’s nose. It reminded her vaguely of her grandmother’s kitchen.
Mercy was pulling her away from Darlington and up the stairs. She caught a glimpse of Turner and Tripp in the drawing room. A sporting event or video game must have been on the television none of Lethe used.
“How’s Cali?” Mercy’s cheeks were already tinged a light reddish pink.
Alex rolled her eyes. “Same as always. Hot, overpriced, and full of traffic.”
“You know I was reading about how great the thrifting scene is in LA.”
Alex snorted as they opened the door the Dante bedroom. Dawes must have cleaned it after finals. Fresh sheets covered the bed with neat military corners. The pillows had been carefully fluffed and arranged. Her pile of books was stacked on the desk. Mercy handed her the dress and plucked a bag from the plush chair that sat before the Dante bedroom’s hearth.
“You can thank me after Darlington shoves you up against a wall.”
Alex gulped. She picked up the bag as if it were a live explosive and carried it carefully to the bathroom. She hung the dress up on the small hook beside the shower and set the bag down on the counter. Nestled inside a nest of tissue was an exquisite lingerie set. Alex drew the first piece out slowly. A bra of black lace and straps emerged first. Shimmering silver embroidery decorated the piece. Alex ran her thumb along the ridges of the design. The pattern reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it. She lay the garment on the counter before reaching back into the bag. A matching panty emerged from the tissue. Turning the scraps of lace over in her hands, Alex wondered if Mercy had picked these out specifically to highlight her ass.
She stripped out of her pajamas and rinsed off in the shower. Once she was dry and lingerie in place, Mercy barged in to do hair.
“Let me get the dress on first Mercy.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Her hands plucked the brush and hair dryer from Alex’s hands. “Now be a good Dante and let me lead you into temptation.”
“Um…. I’m pretty sure.”
Alex’s eyes found Mercy’s in the mirror. Something in Mercy’s eyes told Alex to shut the fuck up and let her do what she wanted.
**
When they descended the stairs, Darlington was waiting for them. He had added a sport coat over his shirt and there looked to be gel in his hair. He turned as she hit the step that creaked for everyone but him.
“Fucking hell Stern.”
“Does my cleaning up nicely meet your requirements for profanity, Darlington?” Alex smirked as she descended the last step. Darlington audibly gulped as she moved towards him, hips swinging exaggeratedly.
Mercy giggled as she stepped down behind them. “Told you.”
“Hot damn Alex,” Tripp was in the archway leading to the drawing room. He leaned against the woodwork, a wine glass of red liquid in hand. “You clean up really really nicely.”
“Thanks, Tripp,” Alex laughed. Turner and Dawes were in the entry way now too. The small room seemed crowded with everyone suddenly standing in it.
“Dinner is ready if you all want to come through to the dining room,” Dawes announced. The assembled delegates of Lethe and Team Murder walked through to the dinning room.
Turner scoffed as he looked over the intricate table scape Dawes and likely Mercy had designed. None of the serving dishes or glasses matched. Only the base dishes and cutlery seemed to coordinate. The tureens, soup bowls, casseroles, and gravy boats were all slightly different. Each place was already set with a glass of wine, save for the spot meant for Tripp.
“Is there a reason it looks like Goodwill threw up in here?” He found the seat that bore his name just to the left of the table end closest to the kitchen. Tripp passed behind him almost silently to take the seat opposite the police detective. Mercy settled into the seat to Darlington’s left leaving the guest of honor’s spot for Alex.
Dawes returned this a dish nearly bigger than she was that held a perfectly browned and glistening bird. She threw a pointed glare at Darlington and Alex. Turner looked at both of them. Their sheepish looks spoke volumes.
“To be fair,” Darlington said as he moved to the head of the table, “it was a very therapeutic night.”
Dawes huffed. “You didn’t have to clean up that mess or explain to Dean Sandow why the Lethe dishware collection was suddenly smaller.”
She set the great roast bird down in front of Darlington in a tableau that reminded Alex of a Norman Rockwell painting.
“You’re right Pammie,” Darlington smiled softly at her. “Dinner looks delicious by the way. You’ve clearly outdone yourself.”
Dawes faced turned a shade of fuchsia as she passed the carving knife of Darlington. He seemed surprised that she’d offered it to him instead of carving fowl herself. Everyone sat in silence as Darlington tried to decide where to cut first. Alex wondered for a moment if he’d ever done this. Perhaps Black Elm had employed a cook who handled such tasks. Or maybe the old man would have done the honors on such occasions.
To save herself from the prolonged silence, Alex tapped her knife against her glass. The assembled Team Murder looked at her, confusion on their faces. She bit her lip. Should she not have done that?
“I…um…” All semblance of reason and language left her. The group waited patiently for her to continue. Darlington lowered the obscene knife to his plates.
“Alex?” Mercy prodded. Alex’s gaze found Darlington’s instead of her roommates. His sapphire orbs seemed to twinkle with gold as she stared. Perhaps if she stared long enough the words she’d intended to say would reappear in her head.
“Perhaps my Dante intended to offer a toast?” Darlington’s mouth quirked at the corner as if fighting back a grin. “Please continue noble poet.” His gaze never left hers.
Alex sucked on her lip as she tried to recall her words. “Yes, a toast. A thank you would probably be more accurate. Thank you all for being here tonight. I know the last few months haven’t exactly been easy for Team Murder and the next semester isn’t likely to be any better. I’m grateful for each and every one of you. Even Tripp.”
The group chuckled.
“So, in short, to Team Murder!”
The group raised their glasses and returned the toast.
“Now please cut the turkey, Darlington. I’m starving.”
“It’s actually a pheasant,” Dawes interjected.
Darlington chuckled as he picked up the knife finally making the first cut into the bird’s breast.
**
After dinner, the group retired to the living room for conversation and games. Alex had fun sitting back and watching Trip, Mercy, Darlington, and Turner face off in Mario Kart. She and Dawes sat with their wine glasses mesmerized. Mercy was surprisingly good at the racing game as was Darlington. She watched as Cat Peach and King Boo battled for first place. Trip and Turner weren’t far behind with Mario and Link. She cheered when Mercy took the first two races and when Darlington used a well-timed Koopa shell to stop Tripp from winning the third race. Then it was time for everyone to retire.
Much like they had the month prior, the group split to take whatever spots were open to them. Alex had honestly thought she’d be heading back home after dinner. Mercy giggled then winked at her as she turned to head up the stairs.
“That’s ridiculous. I texted your mom this evening and told her we were stealing you. She expects you home by noon, but that gives us plenty of time.”
Tripp took the living room sofa while Dawes set up in her usual spot in the drawing room intent on getting some writing in while she was a bit looser than normal. Turner rolled his eyes at all of them.
“Good night. Don’t call me again until after new year’s alright?”
“We’ll do our best Detective Turner,” Darlington capitulates. “Though I can’t promise the infernal hordes will understand your need for a vacation.” Turner waved as he walked through the door into the chilly night.
That left Darlington and Alex along in the foyer. She watched Darlington’s back as he softly shut the door. His hand rested on the wood for a moment as if he was trying to think of what to do next.
“I…” Alex stopped. Darlington remained facing the door. He looked as still as a statue. Alex bit her lip and then turned towards the stairs. “Goodnight Darlington.”
She took her time ascending the stairs, though she couldn’t be sure if it was because she wanted Darlington to catch up or to allow herself some quiet before Mercy started chatting about the spring semester. She needed to think about majors and readings, not Darlington. The Dean of JE had emailed during finals to request a meeting the first week of the semester to go over her declaration.
“Everything alright, Stern?”
She jumped at Darlington’s voice behind her. Alex hadn’t realized she had stopped halfway up the stairs.
“Just doing some thinking.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat. He looked so normal as he watched her from the bottom of the stairs. It was how she’d expect Darlington would have looked without Lethe. A normal upper-class boy who was too smart and privileged for his own good. She turned to face him. A confused look formed on his elegant features as she descended the stairs. She stopped on the step directly above him. They were at eye level now. Her coal-like orbs bore into his gleaming golden blue ones.
“Is there something you wanted to say, Stern?” He said it so causally that Alex almost missed the curious glint in his eye.
“Thank you, for getting me. Even if it was a flagrant disregard for protocol.”
Darlington chuckled quietly. “I’ll write a formal apology to Professor Walsh-Whitely and the Societies as soon as we handle our demon problem.”
“Perhaps I should write it?” Alex offered. “They expect it from me. You're to….” She trailed off unable to say the word that sprang to her mind.
“The word you're looking for is conformist.”
Alex rolled her eyes as she turned to again ascend the stairs. “That was not the word I was thinking. Perhaps we should reevaluate the bond we have if you can't read my mind.”
A warm hand enveloped hers. The touch sent a bolt of electricity through Alex. She closed her eyes and focused on tamping down the hellfire that begged to be released from her skin. Those long fingers of his were entwining with hers pulling her down to him.
“Not the place,” Alex hissed. Her head twitched in the direction of the drawing room.
His hands reacted in a flash leaving only the notion of warmth. “My apologies for my indecorous behavior. Perhaps I have indulged too much tonight. Goodnight, Stern.”
Darlington stepped around her. Once he was at the top her looked back down at her. “You did look lovely tonight. Perhaps you are Beatrice, and I am still Dante after all.”
He hurried around the second-floor landing to the second set of stairs. Alex leaned against the wall as he went. The crackle of fire filled her ears. She needed to splash some water on her face. He was just Darlington, nothing more. It didn't matter if he had sworn to serve her or if he was bound to her till the end of days. All he could ever be to her was a mentor and a friend.
Once she was safely ensconced in the Dante bedroom with Mercy lightly snoring next to her, Alex found herself unable to sleep. She stared at the blue canopy above her, at the stained glass and the carved marble fireplace surround. Her mind raced like a runaway train. She grumbled as she sat up. Mercy shifted beside her mumbling something unintelligible before grabbing for Alex's pillow.
“Well, I guess that settles that.” Alex shuffled sideways off the bed. The chill of the floors sent shivers up her body as her feet made contact. She grabbed the Lethe robe that hung on a hook beside the bathroom. The navy-blue waffled thing often reminded her of the robes people got at fancy spas. Only in this case, a silver jackal was stitched was a leaf or letter might be. The door to the Dante bedroom swung open quietly. Looking out across the second floor of Il Bastone made Alex shiver and pull her robe closer. It looked so much like that night in Rosenfeld Hall. Everything was so still and quiet. She could just hear the strains of Dawes scratching away on a notecard below.
“Get ahold of yourself,” Alex scolded herself. Her gaze turned upward. Was Darlington still awake up there? He seemed to seldom sleep since returning from Hell. Perhaps….
She quietly stepped out onto the landing and shut the door to the Dante bedroom. She patted the door to thank the house for helping her keep quiet. Before she realized it, Alex stood at the door to the Virgil bedroom. The name plate seemed to shimmer in the non-existence light. Alex reached out to trace the letters with a long finger when movement on the other side caused her to jump.
The door opened to reveal Darlington dressed much the same as he had been that night before the second descent. He wore the same navy sweatpants and robe that she did. His pale chest seemed to glow through the opening in the robe.
“Did you need something Stern? If you keep sneaking into my room after hours people will talk.” His mouth twisted into a tired grin.
“Couldn’t sleep then Mercy stole my pillow.”
“So, you thought you would come up here and steal mine?”
Alex scoffed as Darlington moved aside to allow her in. The room looked much the same as it had a little over a month ago. There were more books piled on the room’s surfaces reminding Alex a little of Darlington’s tiny bedroom at Black Elm. The chivalrous golden boy was still trying to build a wall of knowledge around himself. She didn’t even notice the click of the room’s door as Darlington shut it.
“Why steal a pillow when I can steal your bed.” Alex fell back onto the king-sized mattress. Its cloud-like duvet softened the impact with a gentle thwack. Darlington watched her warily as she scrabbled over the covers to the head of the bed. Five pillows sat there undisturbed. Their blue shams contrasted the cream of the sheets. Alex allowed her hand to run over the fabrics. They were soft and smooth under her hand. Everything was so much nicer than anything she had ever slept on.
“Because people normally ask if someone is willing to share a bed with them? And come to think of it, enter another’s room.”
Alex rolled her eyes as she pushed herself into a seat position against the pillows. “I know, Darlington. I am a heathen in a den of upper-crust snobs. Though if you’ll check the record, you opened the door and stepped aside. An unspoken invitation is still an invitation.” Darlington rolled his eyes as he returned to his spot before the fire. There was another small glass of amber liquid sitting there. A book sat beside it. Darlington’s place was held by a scrap of paper.
“Do you sleep much? Now?” Alex tried to make it sound innocent. She watched as Darlington’s shoulders rose then lowered in time with a sigh.
“Why are you asking that Stern?”
Alex shrugged though she knew Darlington couldn’t see the gesture. “Morbid curiosity?”
He looked over at her. His face shifted between human and demon in the space of a breath. “Less than I did when human, but I still need it. Its less restful than it once was. Demons do not dream.”
Alex pondered that turn of phrase as Darlington reached for his drink. Was he plagued by nightmares? By visions of his time in hell? How often since the second descent had Alex dreamed of Golgoroth? Of that terrible creature wearing Babbit Rabbit’s face holding on to her arm?
“Would it be alright if I slept here? I love Mercy, but her snoring is terrible.” Alex wasn’t sure why she bothered asking.
“Yes.” The answer surprised her. She had honestly expected Darlington to throw her out on her ass. Her hands found the tie of her robe without much pretense. The garment was almost too warm now with the roaring fire at her feet and duvet beneath her. She wormed beneath the covers. A contented sigh fell from her lips as she found a comfortable position.
“Is it to your liking?” She blinked up at Darlington. He hovered over her like a vulture or perhaps a curious cat. When had he moved? He had been in the chair only a moment before.
“Much comfier than the Dante bed.” Alex yawned.
“Comfier than Black Elm?” The corner of Darlington’s lips quirked into a smirk again. Alex flushed as she remembered the morning after the Manuscript party. Sometimes she could still feel the line of his body pressed against her. The rhythmic flick of his finger against her.
“Not the same,” she murmured. Warm fingers gripped her chin forcing her to meet Darlington’s curious gaze.
“Any particular reason Stern?” He was toying with her. The golden gentleman of Lethe was teasing a girl. Alex wondered if she should alert the Yale Daily News. The headline wrote itself. Daniel Arlington seen fliting with an underclassman after unscheduled semester abroad in Spain.
“Um….” Her mind was slowly filling with the cotton wool of sleep. “This bed is four times as big as your cot?”
He chuckled lowly. The golden flecks in his eyes seemed to dance. “I don’t think that’s quite it.”
His thumb slid a fraction of an inch further up her chin. Its elegant tip traced the line of her bottom lip.
“Would you like to know what I think, Stern?” Alex gulped. “I think you’d like it more if I was lying next to you.”
Alex bit down on her lip. Darlington leaned closer. Warm spicy breath washed over her. The faintest tang of alcohol tickled her nose.
“May I,” he whispered. Even with him so close Alex could barely hear him.
“It’s your bed. I don’t know….” Without warning, Darlington’s lips claimed her in a chaste kiss. It ended as quickly as it had begun. Alex chased after Darlington. Her hand reached for him as he retreated. Fingers snarled his chocolate locks. He still hadn’t cut his hair.
Alex tugged hard pulling a low groan from Darlington as he returned to her orbit. Their teeth clacked into each other as mouths met again. Alex sighed as she tasted the fancy liquor Darlington preferred. His hands fell to either side of her with a heavy thud. Her eyes opened to see Darlington holding himself above her. His eyes were closed tightly. The crow’s feet at their corners crinkled with effort.
“Darlington?” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes were filled with concern and worry.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Never.” She tried to think of how to ask. “Why kiss me?”
“Stern.” Darlington lowered himself a fraction of an inch so his forehead could reset against hers. “I have wanted to do that find last Halloween.”
Alex breathed out a small oh before he claimed her mouth again. It felt so right to do this with him. Righter than it had with anyone else, save Hellie.
When they broke apart this time, they were short of breath. Chests glanced off each other as they fought to catch their breath.
“Share with me?”
Darlington seemed taken aback by her request. She shifted beneath him. Her arm flung out to pat the vast emptiness beside her.
“I swear I don’t kick or snore.”
“That wasn’t what I was concerned about Galaxy.”
It was Alex’s turn to be stunned. Hearing her real name tumble from his lips was so strange. She was always Stern or Wheelwalker with Darlington. Never Alex and certainly never Galaxy. Darlington used the moment to his advantage. He climbed over her to the empty space. Alex lay perfectly still. She hardly dared to breath as he settled behind her. Darlington’s arm looped around her slim waist pulling her into him. The fresh scent of him permeated her nose.
“Is this alright?” Alex shivered as his breath caressed her ear. She stammered out an affirmative.
“Goodnight Galaxy.” His arm tightened around her waist for a moment before relaxing. Darlington’s breathing slowed as he buried his face in her hair. Alex found herself lulled into her own slumber by the warmth of his body against her and the rhythm of his breathing. Alex’s eyes slid closed. Her mouth dropped open. After a short while the sounds of soft snores joined the crackling of the fire as the only sounds.
Darlington shifted slowly. He brought his mouth back to Alex’s ear once more. He only half wondered if she would remember it in the morning for, he was sure it would be in her dreams that night.
“Remember tonight, my queen of stars, for it is the beginning of always.”