Guardian

Chapter 1-3

It wasn’t often that John found himself this interested in a stranger. The others in the band had a rotating door of lovers, for all intents and purposes—except for Harper, who’d recently gotten himself a boyfriend of equal fame and fortune. Because of course he had.

It had to be the music. It hadn’t been glamour, but the aftermath of it felt much the same: like he’d been seen, heard, and satisfied on some deep, emotional level by Venkat’s performance tonight. Vampires, as far as he knew, didn’t have any abilities that could make that happen supernaturally. It had to be pure talent and, yes, an incredible amount of hard work to cultivate that talent, that level of virtuosity.

It didn’t hurt that Venkat had a very sweet smile, either. White and bright, with canines just a little bit crooked and too sharp.

To John’s surprise, as he took the phone back, he found the fluttering in his chest at that light touch was more pleasant than anything else. Maybe he needed a little flirt, after so long ignoring the romantic side of himself.

Part of him rebelled instinctively at the idea. That part was wounded, scabbed over but perhaps never quite healed, and he didn’t want to pick at it again.

But Venkat wasn’t a mortal. And they were just having a drink with Rob and discussing music. So why fight his instinct? Why not go with the flow?

“What’s next for you?” Robin asked quietly, after a silence that stretched just a little too long. He was drinking his second Manhattan casually, as if he didn’t notice the tension at the table. John knew him too well to believe that; if anything, Robin would do his level best to make the tension tenser. “Now the tour’s over? What’s your schedule like?”

Venkat shook his head, displacing curls, and tore his gaze from John’s. “Uh, yeah. I don’t—not sure, actually. Thought about going home for a while, but I don’t really want to.” His watch lit up, but Venkat didn’t pay it any mind.

John asked, “Where’s home?”

“London, for now.” Venkat made a face.

“Your accent is kind of London.” Rob narrowed his eyes. “But also not.”

“London by way of Chennai, yes.” That made Venkat smile again. “I was born in India but grew up mostly in England and the US.”

“You went to the Royal Academy, though,” John said more than asked.

Venkat smiled, obviously surprised and delighted. “How did you know?”

“Liner notes,” John said, delighted by this reaction. “I have the Beethoven sonatas and concertos on vinyl.”

“I thought you were just being nice, saying you liked the last album,” Venkat admitted.

“Oh, no, Johnny is entirely too sweet but when it comes to music he’s also very, very serious,” Robin said. “And he’s very particular about his recordings.”

“Which one of the Mendelssohn do you like? You said you had it memorized.”

“Anne-Sophie Mutter and Gewandhausorchester,” John said, zero hesitation.

“Kurt Masur,” Venkat murmured, still smiling. “Old school. I like that one, too. The tempo is nice.”

“So you, like us, will have to retire to avoid anyone noticing you’re not aging correctly,” Robin pointed out.

Venkat laughed quietly. “I can’t wait, honestly. I’d love to just, you know. Play when I want and how I want. That’s the dream.”

John frowned. “You looked so happy up there.”

“Once I started playing.” Venkat’s smile went crooked. His watch lit up again. He still ignored it. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great. I’m just not sure I was made for all the, you know. Lights and things. That part of it doesn’t sit well on me.”

This, John couldn’t fathom. Yes, he’d looked nervous and stilted coming on stage, but once he’d begun, the way he’d made everyone in that theater feel tonight…

“Well, you fooled everyone in Heinz Hall,” Robin said with a snort. “I was saying Harper would be jealous.”

“Oh, my God, no.” Venkat clapped a hand over his mouth as if to keep himself from laughing too hard. “He’s so good. He must work nonstop.”

“Little fucker is in San Juan with a mojito and his boytoy right now,” Robin said with a snort.

“He does work hard though,” John admitted with a laugh. “Usually. But they needed some alone-time for sure after the last few months.”

“Are they as in love as they seem? Harper and Beck?” Venkat leaned his elbow against the table and propped up his chin on his hand.

“Yes. It’s truly disgusting,” Robin said.

John laughed. “It’s lovely. It’s nice to be around that New Relationship Energy. It’s so charged.”

“What’s it like?” Venkat asked.

“Like no one else in the world exists, when one of them sees the other walk into a room.”

“It’s annoying when you’re trying to talk to one of them.” Robin wrinkled up his aristocratic little nose. “But f**k it, it’s cute, too.”

The food arrived before he could elaborate. As they passed their plates around for everyone to try—turned out Venkat was vegetarian, which was funny for a vampire—Venkat’s watch lit up several more times. John almost asked if he needed to answer it, because it looked like a message. He appreciated the pre-internet courtesy of no phones at the table, for sure, but—

“There you are!”

Venkat closed his eyes, fork full of grilled artichoke still in his mouth, and sighed. “Ugh,” he muttered around it.

As one, Robin and John turned to see a frantic-looking man in a rumpled suit coming toward their table.

“Do we know him?” Robin asked.

“No.” John frowned.

Venkat sighed and set down his fork. “My agent and manager. Hey, Red.”

“Were you going to answer me?” The manager, or Red, or whoever, asked through clenched teeth. If he even saw John and Robin at the table with his client, he gave no indication. He was laser-focused.

“Eventually.” Venkat’s voice went flat, his face expressionless. “Told you I was going to dinner.”

“We have a performance tomorrow. And you were almost late for—”

“Hi, I’m Robin,” Robin interjected far too loudly to be ignored.

Red glanced at him. Then back to Venkat. Then back again. “Who are you?”

“I just told you.” Robin smiled unpleasantly.

Oh s**t. He was gonna f**k with this guy. He couldn’t help himself—and honestly, John was inclined to watch it happen and enjoy. Except that Venkat’s expression had suddenly gone blank and that was decidedly worrying. Not a normal reaction to seeing your manager. “I’m John. We won’t keep him too late, I promise.”

Red blinked at John, then Robin. Then tapped his watch and glared at Venkat.

Venkat downed the rest of his pisco sour in one gulp.

“Need another?” Robin asked, standing up.

“Yes, please,” Venkat said flatly.

Robin moved to tug on Red’s arm. “Red, glad you showed up, man. We have a little proposition for you and your client that I think you’ll want to hear…”

Red frowned but allowed himself to be dragged to the bar.

Venkat muttered, “Sorry. I didn’t think he’d actually come looking for me.”

“Just to be clear here: You’re over twenty-one, right?” He looked it, for sure, but sometimes vampires could be tricky like that.

“I’m twenty-seven!” Then Venkat bit his lip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t let him get to me. He means well.”

John touched Venkat’s sleeve again, tugging at the edge of it with two fingers.

Venkat looked up and caught his gaze. Tried to smile.

“Are you okay?” John asked. He’d seen reactions like that before. As a fae, in particular, he was all-too-aware that they never meant anything good.

Venkat’s large, inky-black eyes seemed wet for a moment. Then he blinked and looked back to his drink, frowned at finding it empty. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long tour. And we still have tomorrow’s performance.”

“Hey.”

Venkat looked up again.

“You ever want to disappear, we’re good at that.”

“Yeah. So’s he.” Venkat laughed but shook his head. “It’s fine, really. I just get bratty when I’m tired.”

John opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t seem bratty at all, but Red reappeared, followed by Robin, who was shooting more significant looks at John. And that’s when John felt a sickly-sweet touch of glamour fall over the room, like golden honey that’d gone slightly off, rotten instead of fermented.

He’d been too confused to notice before, but Red was fae. Glamour-wielding courtly fae, like Harper and Robin.

Fuck.

“We should go, Venkat,” said Red, holding out a hand.

Halfheartedly, Venkat protested, “I said I want another drink.”

“I canceled the order.” Red dropped his hand back to his side. His smile didn’t touch his eyes. “Come with me, and we can talk about you taking a little job with these boys, okay?”

Venkat looked at his half-eaten dish of artichokes then stood, sighing. Whatever the glamour was doing for the mortals around their table, it wasn’t affecting him. He started toward Red but took the long way, so he had to pass around John’s back. John made to stand up, but Venkat put a hand on his arm and leaned in close. He smelled sweet, like a flower of some kind, but tinged with a metallic edge John always associated with energetic powers. It was sharp, dangerous, and oddly exciting. He said, close to John’s ear, “I will do the song. I’ll message you soon.”

“If you don’t?” John asked, unable to help himself.

“I will.”

“We’ll find you.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. He regretted it for a split second after it fell from his lips.

But then, Venkat’s huge eyes looked wet again, and he squeezed John’s arm.

John covered his hand briefly with his own, so it disappeared.

And then they were walking away side by side, the beautiful violinist and the imperious courtly fae. Red reached out for Venkat once again; Venkat brushed his hand aside and moved faster down the stairs.

John had to swallow a growl building in his throat. When they disappeared, he asked, “What kind of fae is Red?”

“My money’s on Summer Court.” Robin’s upper lip curled with distaste. “Greedy motherfuckers.”

That had been precisely what John hadn’t wanted to hear. Courtly fae loved to get their claws into other beings—especially mortals, but if they could get a cryptid, vampire, witch, or anyone else magical, all the better. Not only did other supernatural beings last longer before they went mad in Fairyland, but their agreements lasted longer.

“If he’s living here, he’s not Summer Court anymore,” John reasoned. Which could be good, since it probably meant Red had fewer allies. But a fae in exile also had less to lose. The same could be said of John, of The Rade in general, but at least they had each other for accountability and support.

Robin slumped back into his chair, shaking his head. “Still, you can take the boy out of the court…”