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Bone Diggers Chapter Thirty Four

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Spending time with Lance was the silver lining of many dull missions. Everything felt easier when he was around. The only problem was that Daniel and Lance still weren't talking.

Instead of sneaking around like a thief, Lance got to enjoy the golden Paris sunlight as he ran errands for his father. But trouble was lurking right around the corner.

A crossbow bolt flew straight into the heart of a man who stepped onto the street. Lance stepped back. The guard hadn't even gotten a chance to take a breath after spotting him.

"Tarlè," the shooter called from behind.

Lance turned towards the voice, confusion only deepened when he saw Daniel standing there. "I'm assuming that was your work, Ortiz. Nice trick," he said, before glancing back at the would-be attacker. "How did you know he'd be there?"

"I have much to tell you," Daniel said. The foresight was wearing off, but it had given him exactly what he had asked for, the chance to make everything how it needed to be. There was another advantage of not wanting to return home to Spain right away. Time. He had a chance to explain the near-magical things that happened to him, and apologize for pushing Lance away while chasing ghosts. The tear in their friendship wasn't instantly fixed, but it wasn't an uphill battle, either.

Days later, Lance sat in front of a fire being lulled to sleep as its warmth protected him from the cold outside. He'd been staying with his family, and this spot in a distant wing made him feel more at home than anywhere else. When his eyes started to grow heavy, there was a knock on the door. Lance must have been asleep for some time, since when he woke, only the deep orange coals of the fire remained.

Lance rubbed his eyes as he got up to answer the door. Who would stop by this late? Let alone detour to his small section of the house. Soon he had his answer. "Daniel," Lance said. He noticed that his friend's eyes looked glossy. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

His words seemed a bit slurred, but Lance let him in regardless. Better to have Daniel here instead of wandering the streets on the way to the inn. Lance closed the door, ready to stay something else, but Daniel wasn't there. He must have gone straight to the bedroom.

Lance rocked on his feet to check if Daniel wandered towards the main house, but it didn't appear anyone went in that direction. That simply left one place for him to be. Lance walked back to see Daniel lying down on the bed, curious if he had already passed out.

For a moment, Lance didn't know what he wanted to do. He held a hand out as if to ask why. The chair where he had been napping would have been the proper place for a guest. "Alright then," he mumbled to himself, and settled down on the other side of the bed. "Can you at least tell me why you are in my bed?"

Daniel wiggled, and flipped over so they were face to face. His eyes never left Lance, who was having some trouble maintaining eye contact. There was so much pain there. Lance felt like he could see a crack in those sky-blue eyes that ran straight down to the soul. "I don't want to be alone," Daniel said at last.

That answer was so raw it sent a pain into Lance's chest. "It's okay, you're not alone." He'd known that Daniel hadn't been fully himself since Amilia was killed in front of him. Something inside broke that day. Lance missed her too, but was nowhere near as shaken up about it as Daniel. Seemed fitting, since the only way Lance could imagine what his friend was going through was to picture Daniel's death. The fact that other members had been taken from them would bring a whole new heartache that mirrored the first.

Lance pulled a blanket over them both so they could stay warm. When he settled back down, he ended up tucked closer. "You never are alone," he said, placing his hand against Daniel's chest holding onto a tiny bit of cloth between his fingers.