Durance by Lyn Gala Page 0,2

news station. His emotional lockdown on the bond started to ease, and the jagged edge of exhaustion and grief stained the air.

Darren cringed. His mother was obnoxious in her new-found devotion to Catholicism. But it wasn’t like Kavon to point that out.

“If you want to go to the wedding, we have quite a bit of saved vacation time.”

Darren wondered about Kavon’s sudden willingness to take the time off. “They should celebrate with their friends,” Darren said, “but we should spend that banked vacation time on us.” When Kavon gave him a confused look, Darren continued. “We could go to the beach, waste some money on fancy hotels or restaurants, you know, take a vacation.”

Kavon’s frown deepened. “We just had a vacation.”

“No, we had two days where we visited my mother after her heart attack. That's the opposite of a vacation.”

Kavon shrugged. “If you want to take time off, just file the paperwork.” Despite his calm tone, his emotions felt conflicted—almost hurt.

Darren rested a hand on Kavon’s knee. “I don't want to take time off by myself. I would like to be a normal human being who takes time off with his family.” Darren still got a little flutter in his stomach when he said that out loud. After years of unrequited love, he got to tell Kavon he loved him and publicly claim him. “Give me one reason why you can't take some time off right now.”

“Our unit is the only one handling Talent cases. Criminals don’t stop because we want time off.” Kavon turned the volume up on the television. The commentator was complaining about the city resources diverted to cleaning up magical spill areas.

“There are two supervisory agents,” Darren said, over the television. “You might want to consider letting the other supervisor carry the weight for a while. Otherwise she might suspect you don’t trust her to do the job.” Darren doubted Coretta would ever reach that conclusion, but her sarcasm was starting to get a little sharp, at least when she wasn’t retreating into overly polite language. A polite Coretta was always dangerous.

“There's too much work for one team.” Kavon had a mulish expression.

In the past, Darren had allowed Kavon to get his way, but enough was enough. They both needed down time. “Six months ago, one team handled everything. Coretta can handle it for a week or two weeks. Hell, she can borrow Milton and Anne, and she'll have more personnel than we ever had.” The two newest members of the team would probably appreciate a break from Kavon’s intensity. It took getting used to.

“Coretta is an able investigator, but she's a magic user. She needs someone who can handle the shamanic end of the Talent pool.”

“I thought that's why you two hired Joe,” Darren said. “He's a shaman. I even recall you saying that he felt like a strong shaman, so he can handle it.”

Kavon grimaced. “He has an octopus guide.”

“I'm starting to regret telling you that.” Darren only knew about Joe’s guide because Bennu delighted in meeting new guides. The small white cattle egret looked out of place perched on the giant orangey sea creature.

“Octopus guides are secretive and clever. You should be cautious around a shaman with an octopus guide.” Kavon sounded ready to launch into lecture mode.

“I imagine that's why he did so well working undercover when he was in the California office,” Darren said dryly.

The tone must have hit home because Kavon narrowed his eyes and, more significantly, quieted the bond. “Do you want to leave Rima with Milton and Anne? She’s going to shoot Milton if she spends too much time with him.”

Darren felt a twinge of pride at getting Kavon to use first names. A year ago, Kavon had even referred to Coretta by her last name. “She threatened to shoot Les more times that I can count. She never did it. I’m a good eighty percent sure she won’t shoot Milton.”

Kavon pressed his lips together, and every line of his body was tight with displeasure. “I have a responsibility to the Shamanic Council, and what about the ifrit war?”

Now Kavon was reaching. “You ignore the council so often that I’m not sure they’ll notice we’re gone. And the ifrit war could be thirty years away. Put on your supervisory hat. If you had an agent who refused to take time off and was in danger of burning out, what would you do?”

“If you're suggesting that I can’t handle the stress, we have a problem.”

Darren grabbed the remote and