Finch

Finch hadn't seen Shadow all day, but he'd refused to let it worry him or to go looking. Shadow had made it clear he didn't want or need a babysitter, and Finch wasn't in any mood to be one.

It was just after eight and a party had started up next door, the kind that was guaranteed to go on for hours. Every burst of laughter hit him like something physical. Every shouted exchange sent a current through his chest that wanted to be anger, because anger was at least something he knew what to do with.

He sighed as he left his room and went to lean against Adin's desk. "Any jobs?"

Adin glanced up from his computer. “No. Everything’s quiet tonight.”

Finch shot an irritated look at the wall. A shriek of laughter came through it right on cue. "Yeah. I wish."

“Would you like to borrow my headphones? They don’t fit on my head very well right now anyway. I’m not sure why I ever thought they were a sensible purchase.”

Finch shook his head. His hand had curled into a fist without him noticing. He made himself open it. "Nah. I'm just gonna take a drive. Call me if we get a job or party time's over."

“Of course. I hope you have a good drive.”

He pushed open the garage door, and the light from the house caught on two glowing eyes in the corner of the room.

“Oh,” Finch said. “Hey.”

"Hey," Shadow said, his voice barely carrying across the space between them.

Finch held up his car keys. “Want to go for a drive?”

Shadow nodded.

Finch leant back through the door. “I’m taking Shadow with me.”

“I doubt I would have even realised he was gone, but thank you for telling me,” Adin said.

Finch felt his way into the car in the dark to avoid blinding Shadow with the garage light, and Shadow got into the passenger seat. That was progress, right? On the first night, he’d sat in the back.

He pulled out onto the street, rolled his shoulders, exhaled. "I don't like it when the neighbours have parties. Adin says I have PTSD, but y'know, who the fuck doesn't?"

“Your heart is beating faster,” Shadow said.

“Hm?”

“It’s usually steady, but tonight…”

“Ah. Yeah. Figures.”

Shadow nodded.

“It just makes me want to hit something.” Finch squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, then made himself ease off. “I’m not some violent asshole who puts his fists through walls. Not anymore. It just makes me feel all wound up tight inside and I just want to—"

"If you want to get out and hit a tree or something, I don't mind."

Finch laughed—a short, real one. "No, it's fine. Talking helps. I know that's not something you're big on, so thanks."

"Where I come from, speaking this loudly would have been dangerous. And I don't need to with Luther. I'm not used to it, but I'm trying."

"Your world sounds like it was pretty different from this one."

Shadow nodded.

“Mine was too. I mean, the sun and all that physical shit was the same, but the stuff with people was different.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Well, let’s just say that I got the PTSD before coming here.”

Shadow nodded.

“I try to appreciate what I have now, though. My friends. They’re more like family, really. That’s the biggest thing. When I was little, I thought all I wanted was to run my own life and not ever have to answer to anybody, but I think it’s better to have to call home if you’re going to be late because you know someone’ll worry if you don’t.”

Shadow nodded.

“So. Where do you want to go?”

Shadow shrugged. “Somewhere without other people.”

"Yeah, I'm all for that. Places with other people this time of night are the same situation I just left. Park, maybe?"

Shadow nodded.

Finch was getting used to Shadow's way of communicating. He'd found it hard going at first—hard to get any kind of read on a guy who barely said anything—but he was starting to understand that the silences weren't empty so much as just quiet. And right now, quiet was exactly what he needed. He was already coming down off the tension in a way he doubted he would have managed alone.

The closest parks were sad little things—a scrap of grass, plastic equipment bolted to rubber mats, done. Finch drove past them. They had a few hours to burn, and he knew somewhere better: one of those places you only stumbled across by chasing a breach down the wrong road and finding something you never would have thought to look for.

Finch parked in a dark, empty lot and they both got out. It occurred to him, briefly, that taking someone to a deserted park this late at night might come across as a little creepy. Then he remembered that Shadow had asked for no people, was demonstrably more comfortable in the dark than Finch was, and had already handed Finch his ass in a fight. He let the thought go.

They headed down a slope, and Finch nodded at the wooden play structure at the bottom—built to look like a pirate ship, real timber and rope, the kind of thing someone had actually sat down and designed rather than ordered out of a catalogue.

"That's why I brought you here," Finch said. "I've seen a lot of parks. Most of them are the same. I like it when they're not."

Shadow didn't respond. He reached the ship, climbed it in a few easy movements, and then, with the same casual economy, kept going up the mast. The mast that was not designed to be climbed. He settled at the top like he'd found a chair.

Finch climbed onto the ship. He did not attempt the mast. "Did you do gymnastics as a kid?"

Shadow shook his head. “Luther built me a jungle gym in the backyard.”

“He built you one, or he paid someone else to?”

“He built it. He used to be a carpenter when he was a human.”

“Huh.” Finch turned that over. “That’s weird to think about.”

Shadow shrugged.

"Listen. However I feel about Luther, it's got nothing to do with you. I know it's complicated because he's basically your dad, but he's got a long history of bullshit. I swear, the things I had to explain to that man." He shook his head. "Like—no, you can't feed from the same person every single night without making them sick, and convincing someone to say yes isn't the same thing as consent. Why any of that was my job when I was a fucking teenager, I'll never know, but someone had to keep him out of trouble."

Shadow looked down at him from the mast without speaking.

Finch sighed. “But hey, I always assumed he was like two hundred years old. When someone tells you they're immortal, you tend to assume they've been at it a while. Turns out he hadn't been a vampire for very long before coming here.”

"A few months," Shadow said.

"Which explains some things. Doesn't excuse them, but." He shrugged. "Sorry. I don't want to put you in the middle of all this. I'm mostly just thinking out loud."

“He should have been more careful, but he wouldn’t do it again. He’s not a monster, but he is flawed.”

"Bleh." Finch pulled a face. "That's so unsatisfying. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Shadow shrugged.

"Guess it doesn't matter. He's not my problem." Finch was about to say something else when his phone rang. Unfamiliar number. "Speaking of the fucker—either that's him or a scam caller." He answered. "Yeah?"

“Hello, Finch,” Luther said. “I hope everything is well.”

"Better before you called. You want Shadow?"

“Yes, please.”

Shadow dropped down from the top of the mast, barely making a sound as he landed, and Finch handed him the phone.

"Hi," Shadow said into it, loud enough for Finch to hear. "I'm fine. Are you any closer to figuring things out?" A pause. "Are you actually, or do you just not want me to worry?" Another pause. "Okay," Shadow said, and handed the phone back.

Finch put it to his ear. "Listen. I can't believe I'm saying this, but is there anything we can do to help?"

“No, no. All I need from you is to keep Shadow safe, and you’re already doing that. I owe all of you, Finch, and I promise I will pay that debt.”

"I'll hold you to that. For now, let's just focus on keeping everyone alive."

“Or only as dead as we already are, in my case,” Luther said. “I appreciate your patience. I’ll check in again tomorrow night.”

Finch hung up and turned back to Shadow, who'd settled against the base of the mast. "Look what you've led me to. Being courteous to Luther."

"Sorry," Shadow said, and even through the dark, Finch thought he could make out the faintest edge of a smile.

"Yeah, you better be. I—"

His phone rang again. Adin's name on the screen this time.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Someone called in a job. It sounds like a full team event. How soon can you be back?"

“Uhh… Half an hour?”

“That’s fine. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

Finch pocketed his phone. "Guess you heard that?"

Shadow nodded, already heading for the side of the ship. He ignored the ladder and jumped instead, landing clean and quiet. Finch took the ladder. He knew if he tried Shadow's method, he'd hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

He'd started the night hoping for a job. Now he was a little sorry they had to go. For the first time, he felt like he was starting to get the shape of Shadow—not who he was exactly, but the outline of him. It was something.

Back at the house, Adin, Malyn, and Tyla were already waiting outside. Finch got out of the car and did his best to tune out the noise still spilling over the fence from next door.

“I’ll make this quick,” Adin promised. “I’ve already sent the location to your GPS. It’s about an hour’s drive. The woman who called lives on a rural property. She saw a very tall figure, perhaps eight feet, lurking in the woods. It may well be a job for Tyla's communication skills, but I think we should go in prepared for the alternative."

A shout went up from next door, chased by a peal of laughter. Finch shot an irritated look in that direction before returning his attention to Adin. "Agreed. Okay, Shadow—" He turned around. Shadow was gone. Of course he was. Finch sighed. "Let's go."

Malyn and Tyla got in the back. This had become default without anyone officially deciding. Once upon a time, Malyn would have been up front, but now there wasn't even a beat of hesitation. 

Finch could have felt some kind of way about the fact that Malyn was closer to Tyla these days than he was to Finch, but the thought never really took hold. Malyn had always been the most likeable person in any room, but that had somehow never translated into him having many people he was actually close with. Watching him finally find someone who clicked felt like the universe getting something right for once.

“How’s your arm?” Finch asked.

“Good,” Malyn said. “It looked way better when I checked it this morning. I think it probably wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Tyla?”

“Unfortunately, he changed the bandage before I woke up, so I didn’t see it,” Tyla said.

Finch popped open the glove compartment, retrieved the first aid kit, and tossed it back towards Tyla. "Bandages are probably due for another change. Take a look now."

Malyn hated doctors, and he hated anyone paying too much attention to his injuries in case it ended in someone trying to send him to one. Tyla was the exception. Malyn could have changed the bandage himself. Instead he let Tyla do it. He never would have let Finch or Adin fuss over him like that. 

"Huh," Malyn said.

Finch glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "What?"

“It looked really good this morning, and it still does, but like… too good. It’s been a day, and this looks like it’s a week into healing. Ty, are you sure you can’t do any healing magic?”

“I’m certain,” Tyla said. “I've explained how our magic works—it relies on patterns. There are things I can do without thought, like throwing up a shield or sending out a burst of energy, but healing is complex. I can accelerate my own body's healing without a spell, but yours is another matter entirely. It’s simply not possible without training and intention.”

“Maybe you should get checked out,” Finch said.

"Why is doctor everyone's answer to everything?" Malyn asked. "If it was healing badly, the answer would be doctor. It's healing great and somehow the answer is still doctor?"

“Don’t you want to know why?”

“Why would a doctor know that?”

Finch tipped his head. Fair point. "Just show Adin when we get back. He knows all sorts of things, magical and not."

“Fine, but he better not try to guilt me into going to a hospital. I’m fine.”

“A little too fine for my liking. Stay in your weak little squishy human lane.”

"Okay. Soon as we get back, I'll stab a fork around in my wound for a bit. Restore the natural order."

“That’s all I ask.”