The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 12: Two Ghosts

1946

Leroy sat in his apartment, all the lights off and all the curtains drawn so that he wouldn't have to see his neighbor's Christmas tree. He swirled the whiskey around in his glass, the ice clinking against the sides. He just stared at the wall for a few hours. The radio was off because he hadn't been able to find anything that wasn't Christmas music. It was Christmas Eve, so he could understand the impulse, but that didn't mean he had any inclination to torture himself. He understood that people liked the holiday—it had been his favorite day of the year for a good fifteen-year stretch. But now it was just an awful reminder of everything he was missing, like an amputated limb he could still feel.

There was a knock at the door. He stumbled out of his armchair and went to open it. Philip stood out on the landing, his hands shoved into his pockets. To say that Leroy was surprised would be an understatement. After the way Philip had reacted to their kiss twenty years ago, he'd never expected to see the man again.

"Can I come in or do I need to stand out here all night?"

Leroy stepped aside, and Philip walked in, throwing his coat over the back of the couch and sat down. "Is there, uh, any particular reason why you're here...?"

Philip rested his hands on his knees, tapping his shaking fingers together so much that Leroy wanted to reach out and cover them with his own hands. But after what had happened between them before, he did not think that would have gone over well. "I asked the council to send me out here again to see if you'd reconsider their offer to join us."

"Ugh." Leroy rolled his eyes and sat down on the other end of the couch.

"I know you aren't going to change your mind." He looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. "But I asked for the assignment as an excuse to come see you."

Leroy shook his head. "They sure don't let you leave often. That cult's a tight-run ship if begging for a working vacation is your only way to have fun."

Philip gave him a sideways glance. "I'm not a prisoner, Leroy."

"If you say so."

"The real reason I wanted to come out here has nothing to do with any of that. I... Well, to be quite honest, Leroy, I had to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look it. You've been in bad shape this last year. It's hard to see you that way."

Leroy blinked at him in annoyance. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, I... I missed you."

Leroy didn't bother to mask his flattered surprise. "You did?"

"Life's exciting with you, Leroy," he said, scooting closer and hesitating a moment before grabbing Leroy's hand. "Perhaps even terrifying."

He brought his eyes up to look into Philip's, taken aback by the longing look in them.

"You know," he said, his eyes focused on Leroy's lips, "When I was alive, I could be reckless and impulsive, like you. But ever since I became a Grim, I've been toeing the line, trying to be good. But I've got to tell you, I miss being reckless and impulsive sometimes."

This time Philip leaned forward first, taking Leroy's chin in his hand, and kissed him. He closed his eyes and leaned into the couch, letting himself be pushed over and pinned down by Philip's weight. He tangled one hand in the other man's soft hair while using the other to tug off Philip's coat.

Ripping their clothes off and tossing them out of the way only took seconds. It'd been so long since he'd been touched by anyone that Philip's touch on his bare skin felt like fire moving across his chest and down his stomach. Philip stopped kissing him and halted his roaming hands. "I've wanted to do this with you for a long time."