Convoke

Chapter 37

After working a long shift, Tom and Ezra went for a late night stroll, both not tired enough to attempt going to bed. They laid on farmer Joels field, pointing at the stars and talking about anything philosophical.

They ventured to berry pond and disturbed the water with pebbles until Tom felt bad for the fish. They wandered into the village. No other soul ambled the old streets of Wileshire. They sat by the fountain, staring at the golden statue of the young child who died over one hundred years ago.

Ezra didn't look at it. He stared ahead, and eventually pointed at the neon sign in the distance. "The cricket field used to be where the gym is now."

Tom looked down the street where it plunged into darkness. "Is that where it happened? Where the women were murdered."

"Yes."

"It must've been so hard coming back here."

"It was. I just wish there was an obvious reason for everything that's happening here. So much hate, but where is it coming from?"

Tom sat closer, feeling his frustration. "Even I've had nightmares of demons. But I'm not feeling hateful. Cal's girlfriend Harper is doubting you guys too. She never used to think that way."

Ezra looked down, studying him. "I would like to say that you're not influenced by my demon presence, but I think you are."

"How?"

"What is your greatest desire?"

Tom sat still for a moment until concluding an obvious answer. "You."

"And maybe that's why you've tried so hard to keep me in your life."

"Good." They stared at each other. "Maybe I am influenced, maybe I'm not. Without it, maybe I would have buried my feelings, but with it, maybe it's given me the confidence to go with what I wanted. I don't see that as a bad thing. Either way, I have very strong feelings for you, and those would have happened with your influence or not."

"I guess it shows how pure you are."

Tom smiled and opened his mouth to argue, but he frowned. "Do you hear that?" They listened intensely until the faint sound of the angel's choir blew through the breeze.

"Why are they singing at this hour?" Ezra mumbled, annoyed.

"I guess the village fair is next week. Maybe they're practicing more."

Ezra rolled his eyes, grimacing at the noise.

Tom chuckled and linked arms with him. "Come on, it's past three in the morning. We should get at least a little sleep tonight."

Ezra didn't hesitate to go with him. The further they walked, the quieter the singing became, yet the breeze still carried it far. Ezra glared ahead with each gust. "You really don't like it, do you," Tom said.

"It's annoying."

"I'm guessing you won't want to be around when the fair is on."

"I'm guessing you won't either."

Tom's smile dropped, and Ezra stopped walking. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'll still go. They can try to push me out, but this is my home. We deserve to be here as much as anyone else." Tom started walking again until he could hear the familiar flapping of the Glass Horns pub sign in the wind.

When they went to bed that night, Ezra held Tom extra tight. And he was still there in the morning, holding him, breathing softly into his hair. Tom stretched again him, waking him from a deep dream. "Good morning," he grumbled, rolling over and wiping the sleep from his puffy eyes.