Kev, grateful for the reprieve, moved to the bench and lit a cigarette, his hands still trembling slightly. He watched as Fang turned to Rex, his back to Kev, but his voice, though lowered, carried clearly in the stillness of the park.
"Kev... is not who we thought he was," Fang began, his tone devoid of its usual bravado, replaced by a grim seriousness. Rex's ears, which had perked with interest at Fang's summons, now twitched, his head tilting slightly.
"He isn't the assistant Lanon hired," Fang continued. "He woke up in that room with no memory of how he got there. He doesn't know this city, this world." Fang paused, and Kev could imagine Rex's usual smirk faltering, replaced by a frown of confusion. "He says... he says he's from a place where there are only humans. Where people like us are... fiction."
Rex let out a short, incredulous snort, and Kev saw him glance quickly over his shoulder at him, a flicker of disbelief in his golden eyes.
Fang's voice dropped lower, more intense. "There's no record of him. Lanon's paperwork for the original assistant is in order, but it doesn't explain Kev. No one remembers bringing him in. He's a ghost." Fang's hand gestured vaguely in Kev's direction. "And now, because he's an unknown, because he doesn't exist in any system, the city sees him as a weakness. A way to get to me."
Kev watched as Rex's posture shifted. The tigerman was no longer leaning casually; he stood straighter, his head angled as he listened intently. The smirk was gone, replaced by a calculating, almost predatory focus, but this time, it wasn't directed at Kev with flirtation. It was the look of a security chief assessing a new, unpredictable variable. Rex's gaze flicked to Kev again, this time longer, more analytical. He was no doubt weighing the security implications, the potential threat Kev represented, or the leverage he might provide.
"So," Fang concluded, his voice firm, "your priority, even more so now, is the club's safety. Abe showing up, Bryan trying to snatch him... it's not random. They're probing. And Kev is the point they've chosen to press."
Rex let out a low growl, his golden eyes narrowing as he looked over at Kev, who was now nervously puffing on his cigarette. "He's dangerous to keep around," Rex stated, his voice a flat, pragmatic assessment.
Fang nodded slowly, his gaze unreadable. "I know."
Rex turned his full attention to Kev, his earlier flirtatious demeanor completely gone, replaced by a sharp, accusatory tone. "Were you going to tell us, human?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Or just wait until you hurt the club? Until your... strangeness brought more trouble to our doorstep?"
Fang growled, a warning rumble in his chest. "Rex."
Kev flinched, drawing his knees up slightly on the bench. "It's insane!" he cried out, his voice thin with desperation. "I didn't want to get thrown into an asylum!"
"At least you'd be safe there!" Rex yelled back, his frustration boiling over.
Kev stared at him, speechless, the bluntness of Rex's retort stealing his breath.
Fang stepped between them, his presence a heavy shield. "Rex, Abe wasn't bluffing," he said, his voice low and intense. "We need to get more out of him. The city is interested."
Rex growled, pacing a short distance away. "You should have let me talk with him instead of knocking him out!"
Fang's voice rose, echoing Rex's frustration. "He was with the rabbit!"
"And they both were with the enforcers!" Rex shot back. "It's a pattern, Fang!"
"And that is for you to deal with!" Fang declared, his authority ringing clear.
Rex whirled back, his fur bristling. "I tried! But you won't let me!" He stalked closer to Fang, his movements agitated.
Rex took a deep, ragged breath, his chest heaving. Then, he exploded. "Fuck you, Fang!" he roared, the sound ripping through the quiet park. "Why the fuck am I not guarding Kev instead of that scrawny eagle?! I would have had this situation figured out by now! I could have had an identity forged for him! We could all tell on that first night that you can't even talk straight around him, and yet you just left yourself open to get bitten!"
Kev, stunned by the ferocity of Rex's outburst, watched as the tigerman stalked towards Fang, his body coiled with a primal rage. Rex stood over Fang, his voice a torrent of pent-up frustration. "You want me to protect what's important to you? Then why don't you let me?! And now that pathetic bird comes out of nowhere, and you have him following your boyfriend around, just because he had one good round in the fighting pit! I would destroy that scrawny eagle!"
The air crackled with tension. Fang remained still, his expression unreadable, letting Rex vent his fury. Finally, when Rex's heaving breaths were the only sound, Fang spoke, his voice calm, almost eerily so.
"Are you finished?"
Rex's chest heaved, his golden eyes still blazing with a fierce intensity. "Let me fight Talon," he growled, his voice a low, guttural challenge.
Fang met Rex's gaze, his own expression unyielding. "Rex," he said, his voice calm but firm, "Talon is not your equal. He is far beneath you."
A frustrated roar ripped from Rex's throat. "Then why is he guarding Kev and not me?!" he demanded, his voice echoing through the graveyard.
Fang's voice remained steady, a surprising contrast to Rex's explosive anger. "Rex, I trust Perry to drive my car."
Rex hissed, his ears flattening against his head. "What does that have to do with it?"
Fang took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "Rex, I trust you to run security," he said, his voice resonating with an undeniable authority. "You are responsible for every single person who enters this club. You know every one of your security staff, and all the security staff trust you. You are undefeated." He placed a heavy hand on Rex's shoulder, his grip firm but not aggressive. "I don't want you driving my car... I want you punishing disrespectful customers."
Rex looked away, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. The raw anger began to recede, leaving behind a flicker of bruised pride.
Fang's voice softened, the sharp edge of command replaced by a more conciliatory tone. "I hired Talon to help you, Rex," he explained. "I wanted to take one thing off your plate. With the mafia deal, all the security changes lately... it's a lot. I never meant to offend you. I wanted to help you."
He paused, his gaze still fixed on Rex. "If something happens to Kev on Talon's watch," Fang continued, his voice low and serious, "it will be my own fault for hiring Talon. I could not put that pressure on you, Rex. Not for this."
Rex remained silent for a moment, then he slowly met Fang's gaze. "Next time you want to help me," he said, his voice rough but less aggressive, "just ask. I need to know what I'm supposed to protect."
Fang nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I know you work hard, Rex," he said, his voice regaining some of its earlier warmth. He then reached out his hand towards Kev, a silent invitation.
Kev took Fang's offered hand, his fingers lacing with the wolfman's. The earlier emotional storm had passed, leaving a strange calm in its wake. As they walked back through the park, Rex now a few paces ahead of them, his posture still stiff but with less overt aggression, Kev's mind replayed the intense conversation between Fang and his head of security.
Fang must trust Rex a lot, Kev thought, his gaze drifting to the tigerman's broad back. Rex's outburst, his raw frustration, hadn't been about insubordination, not really. It had been about a perceived slight, a feeling of being undervalued, of his protective capabilities being overlooked. He seemed genuinely, deeply upset about not being Kev's primary bodyguard.
A small, involuntary shiver ran down Kev's spine at that thought, and he silently thanked Fang for choosing someone other than Rex for the more intimate security role. While Talon was intense, Rex's predatory focus on Kev was… unsettling in a different, more personal way.
He was also struck by Fang's reaction, or lack thereof. Rex had yelled at Fang, had challenged him, and Fang, while initially furious, hadn't lost control. He'd reasoned with Rex, explained his decision, even offered a form of apology. How long has Rex been working for Fang? Kev wondered. Their dynamic was clearly complex, built on years of shared history, loyalty, and a surprising degree of mutual respect, even amidst the explosive arguments.
As they neared the club road, Kev noticed a distinct change in their surroundings. The overgrown weeds gave way to more manicured patches of grass. The flickering and broken lampposts were replaced by steadily glowing ones. The overflowing trash cans were now neatly contained, the litter cleared from the pathways. It was as if they were stepping back into a different, more orderly section of the park, the disrepair of the deeper woods a forgotten anomaly. The contrast was stark, and Kev couldn't help but wonder if the state of the graveyard was a deliberate, targeted neglect by the city, rather than a general lack of upkeep.
Fang's pace suddenly slowed, his head snapping up, ears swiveling. Kev, still holding his hand, felt the wolfman tense. Up ahead, near where Perry was parked, a cacophony of rough laughter and taunting yells pierced the night air. Kev strained his eyes in the darkness but could only make out indistinct, shifting shapes around the dark form of the car.
Then, a sharp, agonized hoot cut through the noise, followed by a sickening thud.
"Perry!" Fang roared, his voice a furious thunderclap, and he began to stride forward, his leisurely pace abandoned.
The yelling and laughing intensified. As they drew closer, Kev could now see a group of about five or six beastmen – the same hyena from earlier was distinctly visible, his cackling laugh unmistakable – clustered around Fang's car.
Rex, who had been walking slightly behind, moved with astonishing speed, a tawny blur rushing past. He reached Fang just as the wolfman was about to charge into the fray.
"Boss, no," Rex growled, his voice low and urgent, placing a restraining hand on Fang's arm. "This is beneath you. Let me handle it." Without waiting for a reply, Rex continued forward, his body language shifting from tense guard to coiled predator.
As Rex approached the group, Kev's blood ran cold. Curled up on the ground beside the car, his feathers dirtied and one wing bent at an unnatural angle, was Perry. The owl man let out a soft, pained whimper.
The hyena spotted Rex approaching, his earlier bravado amplified by the presence of his pack. "Well, well, look who it is!" he sneered, his packmates chuckling and spreading out, forming a loose, menacing circle around Rex. "Your owner finally let you off your leash?"
The others laughed, jostling each other, their eyes gleaming with malice in the dim light. They began to close in on Rex, their movements confident, predatory.
Fang pulled Kev close, his arm a band of steel around his shoulders. "Watch," he said, his voice low.
Kev, his heart hammering, could only nod, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.
Rex didn't waste time with words. The instant the hyena finished his taunt, Rex exploded into motion. It wasn't the lumbering charge of a brute, but the swift, lethal grace of a true apex predator. He lunged, not at the hyena first, but at a burly boar-man who was closest, his right arm a blur as his claws, gleaming like polished daggers, raked across the boar's snout. Blood sprayed, and the boar shrieked, stumbling back, clutching his face.
Before the others could fully react, Rex spun, his powerful legs propelling him in a low, evasive crouch under a wild swing from a lanky wolf. He came up inside the wolf's guard, and Kev heard a sickening crunch as Rex's elbow connected with the wolf's ribs. Another yelp of pain.
The hyena, enraged, charged from the side. Rex met him with a terrifying agility, sidestepping the clumsy attack and delivering a brutal, open-palmed strike to the hyena's temple with his left hand. The hyena staggered, his eyes glazing over. Rex didn't hesitate. His right hand, claws extended, flashed out again, leaving four deep, crimson gashes down the hyena's chest. The hyena howled, collapsing to his knees.
Rex was a whirlwind of controlled fury. His movements were economical, each strike precise and devastating. He wasn't just brawling; he was fighting, using his size, speed, and natural weaponry with a terrifying efficiency. Claws tore at flesh, not haphazardly, but targeting vulnerable points – faces, limbs, exposed flanks. His blocks were solid, turning aside clumsy punches and kicks, and his counters were immediate and brutal. Kev saw him duck under a blow from a badger-like creature, then pivot, his powerful tail whipping around to trip another attacker, sending him sprawling.
It was bloody. Kev winced as claws connected, as fur flew, as pained snarls and whimpers filled the air. Yet, amidst the brutality, there was a strange, almost terrifying grace to Rex's movements. He flowed like water, then struck like lightning. He took hits too – a glancing blow to his side, a kick to his leg – but he absorbed them with a growl, his focus never wavering.
Kev watched, mesmerized and horrified. Rex was systematically dismantling the group, his skill undeniable. He wasn't just strong; he was a highly trained, incredibly effective fighter, turning their numbers against them, using their aggression to create openings. One by one, the attackers fell, either incapacitated by pain or scrambling to get away from the furious tiger.
The last two fighters, a wiry jackal and the badger creature Rex had tripped, saw their packmates fall, their bravado evaporating like mist in the morning sun. With panicked yelps, they turned and fled, disappearing back into the shadowy depths of the park.
Rex didn't pursue them. He stalked over to the kneeling, whimpering hyena and delivered a swift, contemptuous kick to his ribs. "Just some punks," he spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He then turned his attention to Perry, who was still curled on the ground, moaning softly.
Kev watched, surprised, as Rex's demeanor shifted. The raw fury of the fight was replaced by a focused professionalism. He knelt beside Perry, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he helped the injured owl man into a sitting position. "Easy, birdy," Rex murmured, his voice losing its harsh edge. He carefully examined Perry's injured wing, his brow furrowed in concentration. Perry hissed in pain as Rex prodded the broken bone.
Kev was struck by the contrast. Moments ago, Rex had been a whirlwind of claws and fury, a brutal instrument of violence. Now, he was assessing Perry's injuries with a calm, practiced efficiency, his movements surprisingly deft as he used a strip of cloth torn from one of the fallen attacker's shirts to create a makeshift sling for Perry's wing. It was a side of Rex Kev hadn't seen before, a glimpse of the skilled professional beneath the aggressive exterior.
Fang, his own anger still simmering, surveyed the remaining thugs who lay moaning or trying to crawl away. "If you don't want to die, you better leave," he snarled, his voice a chilling promise. The injured beastmen, terror etched on their faces, scrambled to their feet and hobbled off into the darkness, leaving behind only the scent of blood and fear.
Rex carefully helped Perry to his feet, supporting his weight. "His wing's definitely broken," Rex announced, his gaze meeting Fang's. "He needs to see Vlad, now." He then guided the injured owl man towards the car, carefully settling him into the backseat.
Fang let out another angry howl, his frustration and rage still palpable. Kev, sensing the wolfman was on the verge of another outburst, gently took his arm. "Fang," he said softly, "let's get Perry taken care of." He led the still-fuming wolfman to the car.
Rex, without a word, slid into the driver's seat, his earlier defiance forgotten in the face of the immediate crisis. The engine roared to life, and the car sped back towards the club, the urgency of the situation overriding any lingering animosity.
"Perry, what happened?" Fang growled, his voice tight with anger as the car sped towards the club.
Perry, cradling his injured wing, wheezed, his voice strained. "They... they were trying to mess with your car, boss. Said it looked expensive. Wanted me to give them the keys."
"Fucking punks," Fang snarled, his fist clenching. "The park has turned into a cesspit in my absence."
They screeched to a halt at the security checkpoint. The panther woman on duty looked surprised to see Rex behind the wheel, her eyes widening slightly.
"Emergency," Rex barked, his voice all business. "Send an orange alert and get a crew to get this car inspected. I'm driving up to the entrance."
Without waiting for a response, Rex slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward and speeding up the winding entrance road to the club.
Kev felt a surge of relief that they didn't have to stop for the usual security protocols, the metal detectors and questioning. Perry looked truly awful. His left eye was already swelling shut, turning a nasty shade of purple, and the way his wing hung limply at his side, despite Rex's makeshift sling, spoke of a serious break. Small trickles of blood oozed from several cuts on his face and head, staining his ruffled feathers. The owl man was clearly in a lot of pain, his breathing shallow and raspy. Every bump in the road seemed to send a fresh wave of agony through him, and Kev could only imagine how much worse a delay at the checkpoint would have been.
Rex pulled the car to a screeching halt directly in front of the club's main entrance. The once-bustling parking lot was now significantly quieter, most of the patrons having already disappeared inside to begin their night of revelry.
Tessa, the opossum valet woman, looked up from her podium, her eyes widening in shock as Rex emerged from the driver's seat and carefully helped the injured Perry up the wide stone steps. The sight of the usually dapper owl man, now battered and bleeding, clearly startled her.
"Security will be up for the car shortly," Rex snapped, his voice curt and authoritative. He tossed the car keys towards Tessa, who fumbled for a moment before catching them. Fang and Kev followed close behind, their expressions grim. The usual playful banter and charming smiles were absent, replaced by a focused urgency as they hurried Perry inside.
They hurried through the dimly lit entrance hall, the usual throb of music and laughter from the main club floor now carrying an undercurrent of something else – raised voices, a distinct commotion. As they passed the wide archway leading into the main bar, the sound of yelling became undeniable.
Rex, still supporting the groaning Perry, glanced back at Fang, his golden eyes questioning.
Fang's jaw tightened. "Take Perry to Vlad, now," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I will deal with this."
Rex nodded curtly, his focus immediately shifting. He carefully guided the injured owl man towards the east wing, his movements surprisingly gentle for such a large and formidable creature.
Fang then turned, his hand resting on Kev's back, and steered him towards the source of the commotion in the main bar. As they stepped into the familiar, smoky atmosphere, Kev's eyes widened. In the center of a hastily cleared space near the bar, Horns and Dale were locked in a struggle. It wasn't a fight, not in the brutal way Rex had dispatched the thugs, but a grappling match, two massive forms straining against each other. Dale held Horns in a clumsy headlock, and the moose was trying to leverage his powerful legs to break free, his face flushed and his usual dopey grin. Patrons had formed a loose circle around them, their expressions a mixture of shock, amusement, and apprehension. The music had faltered, Asmodeus and his band momentarily silenced by the unexpected spectacle.
"Let me go!" Horns roared, his voice a desperate bellow as he struggled against Dale's iron grip.
"No way, buddy!" Dale shouted back, his own voice strained with exertion. "You're staying right here!"
Fang pushed through the throng of onlookers, his presence immediately commanding attention. "What the hell are you two doing?!" he yelled, his voice a thunderous crack that momentarily silenced the chaotic scene.
Horns, his face flushed and his eyes wild, looked over at Fang, his chest heaving. "It's my day off!" he yelled, his voice raw with indignation. "And this horse is trying to boss me around!"
Dale, still focused on subduing the massive moose, gritted his teeth. "Calm down, Horns!" he urged, his voice strained.
"You calm down!" Horns retorted, redoubling his efforts to break free.
With a sudden surge of strength, Dale shoved Horns away. The moose stumbled back, his antlers nearly catching on a low-hanging chandelier. Dale, wincing in pain, clutched his own shoulder, his face contorted in a grimace.
Horns, however, quickly regained his footing. He stood up, his massive frame looming over Dale, his earlier desperation replaced by a simmering rage. "That wasn't very nice," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble.
"Horns! Look at me!" Fang yelled, his voice cutting through the tension, sharp and authoritative.
Horns finally tore his gaze away from Dale and looked over at Fang. Kev felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He'd only ever known Horns as a gentle giant, his usual demeanor a comforting blend of jovial warmth and laid-back calm. But the mooseman standing before him now was a different creature entirely.
His usually soft, brown eyes were narrowed and bloodshot, blazing with an unfamiliar fury. The fur on his massive neck and shoulders bristled, making him appear even larger, more imposing. His nostrils flared with each ragged breath, and a low, guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, a primal sound that sent shivers down Kev's spine. His impressive rack of antlers, usually a symbol of quiet dignity, now seemed like a formidable weapon, sharp tines glinting menacingly in the dim light of the bar. The easygoing slouch was gone, replaced by a rigid tension that radiated pure, unadulterated rage.
"I looked at you," Horns said, his voice a harsh rasp, devoid of its usual warmth. "I'm leaving now." He turned, his movements stiff and deliberate, and began to walk away from the confrontation.
"Don't be sour just because I cut you off!" Dale yelled after him, his own anger still evident.
Horns spun back around, his voice a thunderous bellow that shook the chandeliers. "It's my day off!"
Dale looked over at Fang, his expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Day off or not, I know Horns," he said, his voice still raised. "He had enough. Way too much, if you ask me."
"Shut up!" Horns roared, taking a menacing step towards Dale.
"Horns! Enough!" Fang's voice cracked like a whip, his own anger finally erupting. "Go up to my office. Now. I need to have a word with you."
Horns whirled to face Fang, his massive chest heaving, his eyes still burning with fury. "No!" he bellowed, the word a defiant challenge that hung heavy in the suddenly silent bar.
Fang's tail went rigid, shooting straight out behind him. His lips peeled back, baring a terrifying array of sharp, white teeth. A low, guttural snarl ripped from his throat, a sound that promised swift and brutal retribution.
Kev's heart hammered against his ribs. He looked frantically between Horns and Fang. They had always been so easygoing, so friendly in front of him. Now, they looked like two cornered beasts, seconds away from tearing each other apart. The air crackled with a terrifying, primal energy.
Fang took a menacing step forward, his body low and coiled, ready to spring.
"Horns!" Kev yelled, his voice surprisingly loud and steady in the sudden hush. "You said you'd walk me back to my room tonight!"
Both Fang and Horns froze, their heads snapping towards Kev. Horns, his eyes still blazing with anger, looked utterly confused. "Did I?" he mumbled, his brow furrowed.
Fang let out a low, incredulous sound. "What?"
Kev didn't hesitate. He quickly walked up to Horns, standing on his tiptoes to get closer to the massive mooseman's ear. He could smell the sharp tang of alcohol on Horns's breath, a scent that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Horns was still radiating fury, his body a taut spring of aggression.
Kev whispered loudly, his voice urgent, "There's still some of that oil left. Let's get out of here. It's too loud anyways."
At the mention of the potent weed oil, a subtle shift occurred in Horns's demeanor. The fiery rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flicker of something softer, more muddled. "It is kind of loud in here," Horns rumbled, his voice losing some of its harsh edge. He glanced around at the ring of patrons still staring at them. "And all these people are looking at me. It's… creeping me out."
Kev nodded emphatically. "Yeah," he agreed. "And I got some bagels still, I think."
A faint, almost dopey smile touched Horns's lips. "I like bagels," he mumbled.
Kev looked back at Fang, his expression a mixture of amusement at Horns's sudden shift and a longing, apologetic look for the wolfman.
Fang's fur, which had been bristling, slowly began to settle. His tail, no longer rigid, twitched once, then relaxed. He glanced at Dale, who was watching the scene with a bewildered expression, then his gaze returned to Kev, the anger in his eyes softening into something akin to weary affection.
"Good night, my love," Fang said, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly gentle after the earlier outburst. "Do not forget, this is your home." He then turned and walked over to Dale, presumably to address the situation.
Kev looked back at Horns, who was now swaying slightly on his feet. "Let's go," Kev said, taking the mooseman's massive arm and gently guiding him towards the exit.
Kev carefully guided the still-grumbling, slightly unsteady Horns out of the bar and towards the grand staircase. The mooseman was undeniably drunk, his usual lumbering gait now a more pronounced sway. Kev kept a firm hold on his arm, offering a steadying presence as they ascended the steps.
Reaching his apartment, Kev fumbled slightly with the keys before unlocking the door. Horns immediately stumbled towards the couch, collapsing onto it with a groan of relief. "Oh man," he sighed, his voice thick and slurred. "It's much better up here." He looked around the dark living room, his eyes unfocused but appreciative.
Kev went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of water. "Sorry, I don't have anything other than coffee, tea, or water," he said, handing the glass to Horns.
Horns took the water and drank it down quickly, his thirst apparently immense. Kev then went to his bedroom and retrieved the water pipe and the bag of weed oil from the safe. He returned to the living room and placed them on the coffee table in front of Horns.
"Here you go," Kev said, gesturing towards the offering.
Horns's eyes, though still hazy, lit up at the sight. He fumbled with the oil and the pipe, his large hands clumsy with intoxication. Kev lit a cigarette, leaning back against the armchair,watching as Horns finally managed to load the pipe and take a long, deep hit.
As Horns exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, his usual blissful, dopey smile spread across his face. Kev, meanwhile, headed back to the kitchen and began toasting bagels, the familiar scent of warm bread filling the apartment.
"So," Kev asked casually, flipping a bagel in the pan, "how was dancing?"
Horns let out a long, contented sigh, the smoke mingling with the scent of toasting bagels. "Dancing was amazing," he declared, his voice still thick but now infused with a dreamy enthusiasm. "Everyone was so… happy. Music was good. Felt great to just… move."
Kev laughed, flipping another bagel. "That's good, Horns. You won't be able to say your day off was all bad then."
Horns grumbled, his blissful expression faltering slightly. "Dale cut me off," he muttered, his gaze drifting towards the floor.
Kev brought over a plate with a toasted bagel and another glass of water. "You seem a bit drunk, if I'm being honest," he said gently, placing the offerings on the coffee table.
Horns glared at Kev, a flash of his earlier belligerence returning, but it quickly faded. "Yes," he admitted with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I am." He took another long hit from the water pipe, his eyes closing in momentary bliss.
He then reached for the bagel, groaning with satisfaction as he took a large bite. "Thank you," he mumbled around a mouthful of bread, his eyes still hazy but now filled with a genuine gratitude.
Kev smiled, settling back into the armchair. "You're free to crash on the couch again," he offered.
Horns didn't need to be told twice. He lay down, his massive frame overflowing the small sofa, half a bagel still sticking out of his mouth as he chewed slowly, his eyes already drifting shut.
Kev lit one of the joints Horns had rolled earlier, taking a slow, thoughtful drag. The player piano was silent, and the only sounds were Horns's rhythmic, heavy breathing and the distant, muffled thrum of the club below. "It was a wild night, Horns," Kev said softly, more to himself than to the sleeping moose, the smoke curling towards the ceiling in the quiet apartment.
Kev looked around the apartment. The only light came from the moon filtering through the windows and the dying embers of his joint. He realized he hadn't even bothered to light a candle or a lantern since Horns had arrived. The darkness, usually comforting, now felt a little oppressive, amplifying the strangeness of his thoughts.
With a sigh, he got up and locked the front door, the metallic click echoing in the sudden silence. He then padded to the bathroom, the cool tiles a contrast to the warmth of the living room. After a quick wash, he retreated to his bedroom.
He slid into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. His mind, still hazy from the oil and the joint, replayed the earlier conversation with Fang in the graveyard. Telling him the truth... It had been terrifying, a colossal weight lifted, yet a new, more insidious fear had taken its place. Fang had been surprisingly understanding, even kind, but what if that changed? What if the full implications of Kev being from… somewhere else… truly sank in?
A cold dread snaked through him. He thought of labs, of scientists, of being a specimen. He hoped he wouldn't be taken and dissected, his body picked apart to understand the mystery of his arrival. The thought was absurd, something out of a B-grade sci-fi movie, yet in this world where beastmen were real and magic might as well be, it didn't feel entirely impossible.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the unsettling images. Fang wouldn't let that happen, a small voice in his head insisted. But the fear lingered, a cold knot in his stomach. He curled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around him, and eventually, Kev fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams a chaotic jumble of dark forests, gleaming scalpels, and Fang's unreadable amber eyes.