Page 21 of New Beginning

“Are you sure you can’t read my mind?”

Mikkel turned and looked straight at him. “Not precisely. I can sense the direction of your thoughts.”

Oh God. So he can read my mind. Teddy tried to think of nothing as Mikkel scooped up his bag and headed for the stairs.

When Teddy was next to the dragon, he ran his hand down her back, then tickled her head. “Hello, Pyre. It’s nice to meet you.”

When he felt the dragon ripple under his hand, he almost wasn’t surprised. He’d just slid into accepting that the impossible was now possible. Because…why not?

“This room,” Mikkel said, then pulled away from the door. “No? Which then?”

He carried on walking and Teddy followed. “Who are you talking to?”

“An old friend.” He stopped by another door, sighed and said, “Fine, not here either,” and walked on.

When a door opened as they reached it, Mikkel gestured him inside. “It has everything you need.”

“Where’s your room, just in case it doesn’t.” You, for example.

Mikkel blinked hard. “The next one along.”

Teddy nodded. “Thank you for helping me. Thank you for the lovely meal and the drinks. Thank you for not being bored when I got engrossed talking about something I love that no one else does, even if that was penis worms. Try not to dream about them. Goodnight.” While he still had an ounce or two of courage, he went up on his toes and planted a kiss, not on Mikkel’s mouth, but very close to it. Then he went into the room and closed the door.

“Who am I?” he whispered. Had he come back as a brave person?

Teddy never made the first move on a guy. He was always a little shocked when someone kissed him. He’d wanted to kiss Mikkel. Properly but that was the best he could manage. He didn’t care that Mikkel was a demon. He’d been nothing but kind. I don’t even know if he’s gay. But he’d felt that he was. The holding hands… the good boy comment… Just a feeling. Though Teddy had the worst gaydar in the world. It was better to not risk upsetting someone than to assume. Not this time! And Mikkel hadn’t freaked out so…

He walked deeper into the room. It was deceptively perfect: a plush double bed, matching bedside tables topped with pretty stained-glass lamps that reflected colours on the walls, a wardrobe, and a shelf of well-thumbed books resting above a chest of drawers. Curtains spanned the far wall, concealing what appeared to be floor-to-ceiling windows.

Instead of feeling relieved, a sudden, prickly discomfort settled in his chest. Teddy needed to know what was on the other side. The unsettling thought had already crossed his mind yet again that he’d never actually escaped The Drift, he’d simply been drawn deeper into Mikkel’s elaborate creation within it. And eventually there’d be a punchline Teddy didn’t like.

Maybe this was the start of his torment, to be given a taste of something good and fun only for it to be snatched away and he’d find himself back in The Drift. Guilt still smouldered in his belly; the accident had been partly his fault, after all. If he hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps a lifetime of smaller, forgotten sins had sealed his fate, a secret dislike—okay hatred of his mother, the lies he’d told to avoid getting into trouble… There were a lot, and it wasn’t going to do him any good to think about them.

Maybe his future would be living forever in a world ruled by demons. But for whatever reason, he had somehow caught the eye of a surprisingly benevolent one. I hope. In any case, whatever lay behind those heavy drapes couldn’t possibly scare him now.

Teddy stepped forward, grabbed the fabric, pulled the curtains apart and gasped. Framed by the glass was the garden he’d played in as a child. It was all there, rendered in agonising detail: the ancient, gnarled oak tree with the fraying rope swing hanging from its lowest branch, the overgrown patch of wild lavender near the fence, and the sun-dappled grass where he’d kicked his football around while his mother was out. Even the afternoon light had that specific, golden warmth of an endless childhood July.

Except it was December.

He pressed a hand against the pane. The glass was freezing, unnatural against the sun-soaked warmth radiating off the scene outside. As Teddy watched, a small, shadowy figure broke from the tree line in the garden, running toward the window with a face he recognised all too well. His own.

He gave a quiet sob and drew the curtains again. He showered in the bathroom, pulled on sleep shorts, unpacked his bag, then climbed into bed. The scene he’d just watched wasn’t real. The house had been demolished ten years ago. A bypass had been built over it. But he knew Mikkel had made it for him. He’d dug through Teddy’s memories to find a place where Teddy felt safe. A time when he felt no guilt. Well, apart from not being the son his mother wanted.

The kindness of it brought tears to his eyes. It also brought him to his feet. He didn’t want to be on his own. He wandered out of the room and down the hall to the next door. He knocked before he could change his mind and heard Mikkel call, “Come in.”

Teddy swallowed hard and walked in. He had no eyes for what this room looked like. All he could focus on was Mikkel, who lay in a bed twice the size of any Teddy had ever seen.

“Can’t you sleep?” Mikkel asked.

Teddy shook his head. “I need company.”

Mikkel didn’t say anything.

“Do you want me?” Teddy held his breath.

“Yes,” Mikkel whispered. “I shouldn’t but I do.”

“Can I sleep with you?”