Page 19 of Something Worth Keeping
“He doesn’t eat,” Julian interjected. “He’s on a very specific diet.”
The server’s confusion was palpable. “We can accommodate most dietary restrictions…”
“Not this one.” Julian closed his menu. “I’ll have the agnolotti, the roasted beet salad, and if you could fix the description on page three of the menu where it should say ‘complemented’ instead of ‘complimented,’ I’d appreciate it. The dishes complement each other. They’re not giving each other praise.”
The server stared.
Cillian’s expression went soft with something that looked like adoration.
“I’ll... I’ll tell the kitchen,” the server managed.
When he disappeared, Julian looked up to find Cillian watching him with that unblinking intensity. “What?”
“You corrected the menu.”
“It was wrong.”
“Most people wouldn’t notice.”
“Most people don’t have brains that work like mine does.” Julian straightened his silverware. “Does it bother you that I do that?”
“Bother me?” Cillian leaned forward. His shadows crept across the table, wrapping around Julian’s water glass. “Julian, watching you correct that server was the most attractive thing I’ve witnessed in four thousand years.”
“You have very specific taste.”
“I have excellent taste.”
The server returned with the wine, poured it with shaking hands, and vanished again.
Julian sipped. “This is a 2018 Barolo. A good choice.”
“I can’t taste it.”
“Right. The not eating thing.” Julian studied Cillian’s face. “What do you actually consume? You said corruption, but what does that mean physiologically?”
“Technically, I can eat human food, I just don’t enjoy it, so I stopped bothering. I consume the essence of decay in a person. A decay caused by their cruelty, violence, or predatoryintent. I drain it from them, which typically drains their life as well.”
“So, you’re fundamentally a filter for human evil.”
“That’s a generous interpretation.”
“I would say it’s an accurate interpretation.” Julian took another sip. “You’re maintaining cosmic balance by removing concentrated corruption. That’s practically a public service.”
Cillian’s shadows surged toward Julian again, wrapping around his forearm, his wrist, threading between his fingers. “You truly see it that way.”
“How else would I see it? You’re not killing indiscriminately. You’re targeting predators and abusers. That’s just...ethical pest control.”
“Julian.”
“What?”
“I’m trying very hard to behave appropriately in public, but if you continue describing murder as pest control in that earnest tone, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
Heat curled low in Julian’s stomach. “What actions specifically?”
Cillian’s eyes went completely black. The shadows around Julian’s hand tightened. Their touch wasn’t painful, but it screamed of possessiveness. “I would lift you onto this table, spread you across the white tablecloth, and show you exactly how much I appreciate your unflinching pragmatism.”
Julian’s breath caught. “That would be inappropriate.”
