My ears picked up a sudden rush of feet thudding against the floor and I peered up in time to see Devin barreling towards me. Gaze quickly checking the clock in the corner of the screen I'd been reading, I realized I'd lost track of time. Twisting in my seat to allow the man to sit down in my lap and throw his arms around me, I apologized for not being there when he woke up.

"It's okay," he squeezed, pulling his head out of my shoulder, "What are you doing?"

I ignored the shakiness in his voice; harping on it wasn't going to make him feel any better than simply feeling my touch to know he was not alone, "I had this weird dream. Well, I guess it wasn't a dream at all." After I had explained the situation, I reached for the mouse and clicked on the original article I had found concerning the girl.

"Fiona Foxx, aged 14," Devin read aloud, "passed away today after falling out of her wheelchair and sustaining a blow to the head. Her fellow students who witnessed the attack were traumatized, but managed to tell authorities that they had been walking with Fiona when one of them tripped over the chair's foot break, jarring the girl from her seat. Services will be held..." he trailed off from the unneeded information, "Damn. That's pretty brutal."

"Yeah," I mumbled, staring at the screen, "And I'm fairly certain these 'fellow students' weren't so innocent."

"I get that too, especially considering who you saw," Devin stretched his arms into a yawn before hopping down from his spot on my legs and walking toward the fridge, "What's the year? Maybe there's someone we can talk to about it."

I put my attention back to the monitor. According to the article, it had happened just before McGraff's last killing spree prior to my resurrecting him. The thought struck me that perhaps her death somehow triggered his return that time.

Replacing my hands on the keyboard, I began searching for any relatives of the girl by typing in her name. Apparently, she had been an only child to unwed parents. Her mother and father had different last names, but hers matched her dad and it seemed he probably had custody.

My fingers crept from the buttons and found the phone that was lying on the table. I almost started to pick it up and dial Ames' number when I remembered not only my inability to communicate with her, but our lunch date.

"Ames might know something," I turned to see Devin peeling an orange.

"Yeah, if she's willing to tell us," he discarded the unwanted pieces of the fruit and began tearing the rest into bites, "She may just think we're going to cause more trouble."

Nearing, he casually offered a slice to me. My first response was to decline, but remembering how I had once loved that particular food, I took it in between two pointed nails.

Staring as the man popped one into his mouth while studying me, I recalled, "You know, I used to crave fresh fruit all the time. I just never wanted to spend the money on it in case I ended up without an appetite. Was afraid it would go to waste since there's no way to store it indefinitely."

I glanced up to see him eagerly waiting for me to eat. With a sharp inhale, I started to put it in my mouth, only for a foul taste to overwhelm my senses. Lowering the slice again, I handed it back, "Don't think I have the same taste preferences anymore."

"What's wrong?" Devin's concern made me aware of how he could see my sunken mood.

I tried to smile, "Nothing. It just reminded me of...of something I probably should forget."

"Tyler?" he prompted.

I nodded, "Once, on my birthday he actually stole a sack of oranges for me. He said," the curl in my lips turned genuine, "And you better eat them or you'll hurt my feelings. He knew how often depression would keep me from eating even with how hard it was for us to keep food regularly."

An awkward silence passed where Devin stared at the fruit he was idly thumbing, "Did you eat them?"

A short laugh escaped, "It took all week and it was all I ate, but yes, I did...even though I got sick from only consuming acid for days." I diverted my vision from the man and scratched the back of my head, "Devin, you know that-"

"We all have past relationships, Mark," he interrupted, coming to tilt my head upward by the chin, the smell of the fruit wafting into my nostrils, "And things that are meaningful to us despite where we're at now. I'm not jealous and I don't resent your memories. You're mine now and that's all that matters."

Beaming at his compassionately powerful eyes, I reached out and took his waist. How did I get this lucky? "Finish your breakfast so you can help me move this computer to the bedroom. It seems I don't need very much rest and I don't want you having to sleep alone if I get bored."

The next few hours went by without problem. Some harmless TV after we had relocated the computer, and then we opted for a shower before heading out. I had never realized that bathing with another person was an experience I was yet to have. Most likely largely to due with my terrible personal hygiene.

It was Devin who strolled into the bedroom where I was gathering my clothes, butt naked and wearing a devious smirk. Coy and kittenish yet supremely confident, the man allowed only a moment for me to take in his appearance before sauntering over and taking a firm grasp on my hand.

He pulled me along with him into the bathroom where the water was running and steam was already collecting. Letting go, he helped me remove the pajama pants I had slipped on earlier and then stepped over the side of the tub.

Since I had been neglected from the sensation of water other than the acid rains of Hell, my body instinctively clenched, preparing for the discomfort. I had to consciously instruct myself to relax and remember that it was harmless liquid.

The warmth of it when I finally did enter was entirely soothing. Standing behind, I watched while Devin let the shower flow over his form, soaking his hair and shining off beautifully smooth and darkly tanned flesh.

For a few moments, he paid no attention to me, merely going about his routine. I didn't mind; content simply to be granted the opportunity to observe his dazzling appeal. I suppose I had become lost in my adoration because when he turned to smile at me, I was startled by his sudden reach. As his fingers fell to my cock, my wings shot from my spine, promptly piercing the curtain and getting stuck.

Dropping his hand from its spot, he chortled hysterically, "Oops."

Frustrated and slightly embarrassed, I had continued to tug and successfully ripped the curtain in two. I gave up and retracted each wing spine, bringing the broken pieces of plastic along with it and making my boyfriend laugh harder.

"Be still!" he ordered through chuckles, taking hold of one of the extensions and carefully removing the trash to throw on the floor, "There."

"Now the floor's going to get all wet," I sulked, hating how little the ridiculous scenario made me feel.

"Oh calm down," Devin closed the space and hugged me, "It's not that big of a deal."

It shouldn't have bothered me so much and yet there I was, fearsome demonic being needing to be coddled by his lover. While I felt I had ruined his advance, I also couldn't bring myself to try and save it either. Instead, I kept my lousy appendages strict against my back and sighed into his shoulder.

"You're adorable," he whispered, "But just for me. You're certainly terrifying otherwise."

A huff blew through my nose, "I appreciate you stroking my ego."

"Well, I was trying to stroke something else," he stood straight and stuck out his tongue.

"Fucking bathe already," my claw gave him a playful shove.

Even with sex omitted, I still enjoyed my first shower with him; not that I would have expected any less. We dried off, my inhuman body actually becoming dry on its own without the aid of a towel after leaving the fountain.

Soon we were dressed and at the steakhouse where I had taken him out what seemed like ages ago. It was somewhat depressing that I couldn't enjoy a meal with him, but the company was far better so I was thrilled to have that over food any day.

"Morning, Devin," Ames made it at twelve on the dot, sliding into the booth on the side opposite where the two of us sat.

"Morning," he returned oddly, waiting for her to tell the waitress which drink she wanted before jumping into any conversation.

"So you're doing better," she smiled, a truthful smile, "What's been going on?"

The man looked over at me, our faces only inches apart, "I guess that answers that," he said softly.

"What?" the woman was clearly confused, her question jarring his attention back to her.

"Obviously, you believe in ghosts and all, right?"

She paused, "Obviously."

"Can you usually see them?" he wondered.

"I have before, but you should already know it's not always as simple as that," her head tilted, "Sometimes spirits can be seen, sometimes they can't. It's all a very wishy-washy thing."

"Right," he nodded.

"Are you seeing ghosts, Devin?"

His mouth opened in hesitation, "No."

My brow furrowed. We had decided to tell Ames about me so why did he lie? I guess I wasn't technically a ghost, but it added up to the same ordeal.

"I had this dream," his tone shifted into the lie, though it probably only sounded inquisitive to her, "About a girl who died in an accident at the school in Daytonsville. Her name was Fiona Foxx and it wasn't anything to do with your father, but-"

"I'm familiar with the incident," she halted abruptly and released a heavy breath, "I guess there's no harm in telling you, considering the poor things are all gone now. When I worked with the police, I wasn't an investigator or anything; I was a psychologist. I had to speak with the kids who were responsible for Fiona's death."

"Emma, Damian, Chris, and Todd," the names coming from Devin's lips made Ames' eyes go wide, "They were the ghosts that Mark saw; the ones that talked him into bringing McGraff back."

"Oh my god," the woman displayed more emotion than I had ever witnessed from her, "That makes sense."

"That was when he returned; as a ghost, I mean, right?"

"I had always figured there was some connection with Fiona and my father, but I just assumed," her head shook twice before gaze was on Devin again, "I thought there was something to do with her innocent life being taken so tragically that triggered some curse or magic of his."

"And you don't think that's it anymore?" the man glanced over, seeing that I had no answers either.

"It could be, but...it would make more sense, be better explained that someone called on McGraff to allow his return; just like Mark did."

"You think Fiona did that? To get back at the others?"

"Like I said, it's just a theory, but one that would fill in a lot of holes," the woman's voice quickened, her demeanor hardening as if she were deciding to end the dialogue, "And this is what has gotten you so upbeat? Why?"

Devin swallowed nervously, apparently having forgotten how he had strayed from the planned conversation, "Sort of. I saw Mark there too. It's just, I feel relieved. I know he's okay."

Anticipating a critical expression before the woman either accepted or denied his reason, I was pleasantly surprised to see a grin instead, "I'm glad. You don't have to tell me anything personal."

"Thanks, Ames."

The woman stood, gathering her purse and readying to leave, "Just promise you've learned from these events not to dabble in spiritual affairs the way Fiona, Emma, and Mark have. My father's type of meddling isn't the only wrong way to go about things."

"Of course, but where are you going?"

Ames smiled, her vision trailing subtly from him to me, "You two look cute together. Enjoy your dinner."

I didn't look, but I think both of our jaws dropped as she winked and sauntered off. She had seen me the whole time? If I hadn't been so terribly thrown off, I would have yelled after her. Shit, I'd probably have jumped into the air and flown over to her before she could leave. Nonetheless, I sat there, gawking like a moron.

"What a bitch," Devin's complaint finally broke the quiet, "She knew. She only wanted to see how honest we were going to be with her. Absolute cu-"

"No," I set a claw over his hand, drawing his focus, "With what she's been through, she was being kind. We can't fault her for such caution. And it's nice to know we have a friend like her."

The man stared at me for a minute, then glanced to the restaurant's door and back, "I suppose you're right. So what are we going to do about Fiona? Do you think she's trouble?"

"I'm not any trouble."

We jolted in unison to the sound of the teen's voice who was now seated where Ames had been. She appeared identical to our last encounter, piercing blue orbs peering at us over fingers interlaced under her chin with elbows on the table. Like before, I sensed strength, yet not menace; well, not toward us.

"In a better mood for talking now?" I greeted.

"I've been learning about you. I meant what I said: I am thankful for you despite what you may be...and how selfish you are."

"Be careful what you say," the man beside me warned, "You're not any better than us, certainly not Mark." I had to resist blushing at his defense of me. "And you're just as selfish, wanting revenge. Just like Emma wanted revenge no matter who else it destroyed."

"You're wrong," her eyes grew cold, "Yes, I made a deal with McGraff, but I didn't do it for me."

The waitress came to the table with our drinks, oblivious to anyone's presence except my boyfriend, "Are you ready to order or would you like me to come back when your lady friend returns?"

"Uh," he looked to Fiona, "Actually, something's come up. I'm sorry," reaching into his pocket and retrieving his wallet, he handed the woman a ten, "Sorry for the trouble."