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Kevin liked Charles’ house. It was small but it was full of Charles’ things. Videogames and sculptures and tupperware and linens. Toys and crayons that belonged to Donovan, little planes and plush animals arranged in neat lines. And there were bookshelves everywhere!
Most of the bookshelves had very few books in them. Other things filled them instead, like crystalline skulls and rocks covered in carvings that began to whisper about glorious battles if you stared at them too long. Several shelves had shiny weapons on them, knives made of obsidian and an axe made of ice that never melted and warhammers made of re-purposed electronics. And there was one shelf that was completely empty except for a thin layer of slime. Anything put on that shelf disappeared overnight, only to reappear hovering in the kitchen at the most inconvenient times. When Kevin had asked, Charles just said the slime had showed up the same week he moved in.
So, mostly normal house stuff. But it was Charles’ normal house stuff, so it was fascinating!
The unusual thing about his house was the books. Interesting things, ones Kevin had never heard of for the most part. Textbooks talking about religion, magazines about theology, little scrolls about european folklore. Some of the books, Charles had bound himself. Kevin recognised one or two as projects Charles had been working on when he last visited. They were standing side by side with a copy of the Book of Devouring that Kevin had gifted him on their third date.
One particular matching set of books caught Kevin’s attention. He wandered over. The books were large, and leatherbound (smelt like cow’s leather instead of armadillo leather) and when Kevin picked one up to flick through it, he found the text was illuminated, and interspersed with illustrations. Charles wouldn’t mind if Kevin borrowed these ones, right? Technically, he was currently breaking-and-entering, so it would be on the theft side of borrowing, but Charles hadn’t minded the last time Kevin snuck into his house. Actually he’d laughed. It was probably fine.
Back at his own place, Kevin flipped through the strange religion books. Was this what the World Beyond thought was worth worship? Sure there was plenty of blood and conflict, but where was the devouring? Wait, they drank the blood of their god during worship and ate his flesh? Maybe it wasn’t so odd.
Really, though, Charles was in Desert Bluffs now, he didn’t need this God of White Light. The Smiling God had blessed him and little Donovan, and even if it hadn’t, then Kevin would have made sure they were both fine. Charles didn’t need these other God books anymore.
Charles was coming over for dinner later, after picking Donovan up from school. Maybe Kevin could arrange a little surprise for him.
He built the fire up quickly. The flames were not orange or red, though they should have been considering his fuel source. Flickers of green and pink and purple show, but mostly the fire was a milky white colour, very hot but not too bright.
Kevin chose the largest of the bibles as the first to burn. It took a moment to catch alight, but when it did, it burned well. Kevin watched as it turned to ash, the shape crumbling away into nothing, and felt proud.
It was right about then that Charles arrived, Donovan in his arms.
“Kevin, do you know if there are any rogue librarians about today? I have some books missing,” Charles said, leaning in to kiss Kevin’s cheek. Kevin’s smile grew wider, and he returned the gesture.
“Oh, there’s nothing so dangerous as that wandering the streets today, unless you count our good citizenry, and they are generally non-hostile. Which of your books are missing?”
Charles relaxed, letting Donovan down. He really was a good father, making sure to keep his children within arm’s reach while a librarian was possibly wandering the streets. Donovan wandered up to the fire, staring into its white light with a frown, and then he turned to Kevin, eyes wide and shiny. Kevin stared back, confused. Children were so strange.
“It’s a set of King James Bibles, all hand-illuminated.”
“Oh, those! You don’t need to worry about those anymore. That false God has no claim on you anymore.”
“What?”
“The Smiling God has accepted you both.”
“Kevin, I… what? I’m a theologist, my whole job is to study a variety of religious and spiritual practices. It’s my passion. Those books were part of that. Where are they?”
“I’m burning them!”
“What.”
Charles’ voice didn’t sound right. Flat, and not warm like normal. Kevin’s smile grew smaller.
“Is that what this fire’s for!? Kevin! Where are my books! How many have you destroyed?!”
“You- you don’t sound happy.”
“Why would I be?” Charles said loudly, his eyes all wide and panicked and upset and sad—Kevin glanced to the other books, all still untouched. Charles followed his gaze and made an upset little whimper, lunging forwards to the books, checking them over.
“Where’s the big one? The family bible?”
“I burnt it already.”
Charles winced, his lip wobbling as he looked away.
“It’s gone?”
“Completely devoured by flame.”
Charles nodded, gathering the remaining books close to his chest.
“I thought you’d be happy,” Kevin said, and his own voice was sounding strange too now. Charles snorted, shaking his head. His eyes were wet.
“Why would this make me happy, Kevin?”
“I’m breaking their hold over you.”
“Their hold over—” Charles cut himself off with a wet-sounding laugh, turning to walk away and gesturing for Donovan to follow.
“Aren’t you staying? We were going to have dinner,” Kevin asked.
Charles spun around to face him. “Staying! Kevin, I don’t want to see you right now!”
“Why not? We had plans.”
“Yes, until I found you destroying my bibles! Now I’m feeling hurt, and upset, and I do not want to see you!”
“But, pain is good, isn’t it? That means it’s working and soon you’ll be free.”
“I didn’t need to be freed! Whatever you think is going on, that’s not what’s happening here! I’m not trapped!”
“When Strex—”
“Kevin, this is not the same! The books were not hurting me, or stifling me, and I enjoyed having them around, looking through them makes me happy! But this—you—this hurts.” Charles swallowed, turning away again. “Don’t come over tomorrow either.”
And Charles left.
Kevin stood there, staring at the space his lover had left behind. The fire was still burning. With a gesture, the flames floated upwards in a spiral before sinking back into Kevin’s skin.
Charles was gone, and Kevin was beginning to suspect he’d made a big mistake.
His heart was pounding, blood too loud in his ears. Was this it? Was Charles done? Forever? It had been days and Charles still didn’t want Kevin near. Didn’t want him visiting. Didn’t want him collecting Donovan from school. Didn’t want their date next week. Didn’t want to get lunch together.
Charles didn’t want him anymore, not at all, because Kevin had made a mistake. Done something stupid. Of course it wasn’t the same as StrexCorp! He knew that! It was obvious in retrospect! Why had it been so important to burn the books anyway, it wasn’t like everyone in Desert Bluffs followed the Smiling God, honestly Kevin was all for religious freedom among heathens. (What was one false god compared to another?)
That wasn’t relevant. Charles said he loved learning about religion, that was the whole reason he’d come to the Bluffs in the first place, to learn about the Smiling God. That didn’t make him a devotee, Kevin knew that, he did! That’s why he never helped Charles to slice a true smile into his cheeks. Charles wanted to study all of the religions.
Fuck. He’d done the absolute opposite of his intentions, hadn’t he. He’d acted like StrexCorp acquiring a radio station. And now he’d damaged Charles.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he had to fix this. He needed to replace the book.
Instantly, a sense of calm swept over him. Replace the book. He could do that.
Then Charles wouldn’t be hurt anymore, and maybe they could have lunch again and Charles might smile (Oh Smiling God, his smile) and kiss Kevin’s hand, and let Kevin listen to his heartbeat again. Yes. This was the best way.
But where would a King James Bible come from? Kevin had never even heard of it before Charles arrived. Asking around the Bluffs didn’t help, no one else had heard of it either.
He called Carlos.
“You’re from the World Beyond, have you ever heard of a religion where people were grown from mud and bone, and each week they eat the flesh and blood of their god so that it might let them live in a cloud palace?”
“Uh, hello? Is that you, Kevin?”
“Yes, it’s me. Please, I urgently need to find out where to get one of the little religious books. One with drawings in.”
“Right, um. It doesn’t sound familiar?”
“Are you sure? I know they have it in big cities. It involves cats too, they called it Cat Holy Schism.”
“Wait, do you mean Catholicism?”
“No, that doesn’t sound right.”
“It’s Catholicism. Are you trying to find a bible?”
“I need one immediately. One the size of three stone bricks with an embossed leather cover and beautiful drawings on every page and letters all written in an old fancy cursive.”
“That sounds like a special edition of some kind. Or maybe a very old edition. Either way, it would be difficult to track one down, and you would definitely need to leave Desert Bluffs to find one.”
“Really? Are there none in Night Vale you could send over?”
Carlos laughed. “I haven’t seen a single cross or crucifix since I moved here. I don’t think anyone in Night Vale has even heard of Christianity or Catholicism, let alone practices. If there is a copy like the one you’re looking for here, it would be an astonishing coincidence.” He hummed thoughtfully. “You know, there probably is one in that case. Wouldn’t that be convenient! I’ll check, if you like? And I can ask Tamika if she spotted one in our library.”
“Yes, please do!”
“I’ll call back,” and he hung up.
Kevin bit his lip. What if there wasn’t a copy there? He began to pace, humming that morning’s weather.
“—so yeah, I’m sorry we couldn’t find one. Um… good luck, I suppose! I hope you can track one down soon! End of voicemail”
Night Vale was no help. And while he had been waiting for Carlos to call back, Kevin had checked all the likely places for books to accumulate, like the roots of shrubs out on the great wasteland and the crevices down the side of the mountain with the blinking light. All he’d found was a first edition Jane Austen, the manuscript for Love’s Labours Won: A Thrilling Sequel, all sixteen of the Harry Potter books, and a memoir written by Grandma Josephine. Useless!
He wasn’t sure what to do next. Leave Desert Bluffs? He supposed it was possible, and Carlos had hinted that he might have better chances finding a replacement copy out in the World Beyond, but where would he begin to look? How long would it take? Longer than a few days? He had the congregation to lead, and the radio show as well, he couldn’t just leave.
Could he?
Fixing things was important. Charles was hurting, and Kevin had done that to him, he needed to find that book!
The Lighthouse. Maybe she could show him where to look in the wide world.
She smiled as he approached, gentle laughter echoing in his ears. He placed a hand on her warm stone walls, smiling as sand whipped around him.
“I’m looking for a book. Do you know where I could find it?” he asked, and she grew sombre and quiet. Kevin swallowed, his own smile growing dim. “I made a mistake.”
A new doorway appeared in the stone. Kevin walked through, climbing the stairs to the room of photos. It was much busier than Kevin remembered. Every surface was covered in photos, all of places he’d never seen before. White stone houses by a large body of water, waves lapping at the shore. Towers of glass and steel and cold light. Snowy plains crisscrossed with electric wires. And wandering the room, dozens upon dozens of shadowy figures moving through one another as if unable to see the rabble around them.
All those lost and searching, she whispered. Was Kevin lost too? He didn’t feel lost, not yet. Not like before.
“There are books in all these places?”
No, the exact book you are searching for is out of print. Very few places have the book you want.
“Which ones?”
The world is too large to see.
Kevin nodded, wandering over to one photo. It showed a tower made of steel in the shape of a letter A.
“Is there one here?”
Several.
More photos seemed to glow, catching his attention, photos with bookshelves and shops and someone’s coffee table. Each had books that looked similar to the one he had burned.
“Where is this one? Is it close by?”
It would take you months to walk to, and you would have to swim a sea of ice.
“This one?”
Catch a train carrying beets on a northbound line, then follow a deer track through the woods until your feet bleed.
“More than a week then?”
Much more.
“This one, then.”
It is in a different desert, one where a God of White Light holds power.
“Perfect! I’ll get that one.”
It is across a sea, in a place where a woman learned from her grandmother how to work a silk loom, then ran when the bombs came. An eagle defends it, and will not surrender it until your chest is bloody and still.
“And? That’s so simple. I’m excellent at sneaking and fighting birds.”
It will steal your voice and your memories of Desert Bluffs, and restore your eyes.
“What? No, it can’t! Nothing can do that!”
The World Beyond does not allow things like us to exist. It would smother the flame inside you. It will make you like them. Are you sure this book is worth it?
“I… Charles is from that world, Carlos too, and they’re both nice. Normal. Even if Carlos is a little bit too violet for my tastes.”
Your flame is a part of this desert and a part of the Smiling God. It is part of this place. Neither of them have a flame within them, instead they are drawn like moths to candles. If you leave, you will not return.
“I need the book for Charles, I have to… is there any book I can find quickly? Any book in this desert?”
All the photos fell away except one, disappearing before they touched the floor. It was one he recognised. The firepit. The ashes.
Have you tried fixing this book, she whispered.
“No.”
Try that first. Wouldn’t it be better anyway? None of these other books are exactly like the one that belongs to Charles.
“Yes, because they all still exist in a papery fashion and haven’t been consumed by the light of the Smiling God.”
And you, the only being in existence carrying the light of the Smiling God within you, blessed by Its terrifying power and left to live, you cannot retrieve the book from It’s glistening maw?
“When did you get sassy?” Kevin sighed. “I’ll try. Collecting a book from the World Beyond can be Plan B.”
Or Plan Z. I’m very serious, do not go to that world.
“Fine! Thank you for the suggestion.”
Kevin left the Lighthouse, ignoring her sigh. They both knew that if repairing the book didn’t work, he’d be back to seek the way.
The ash was exactly as he’d left it days before. Kevin gathered it carefully into a jar and brought it inside.
What else did he need? What were fancy books made from?
Wandering the town, he collected blank notebooks and leather offcuts from Subway. Some watercolour paints from the Temple of Joy. A lump of raw gold from the walls of the Mudstone Abyss. It should be enough.
Back home, he donned his big yellow hat and his best bloodstained shirt, the one with blood fresh enough the shirt would cling to his chest. So attired, and sitting cross-legged on the floor before his pile of items, Kevin summoned the fire back into his palms.
“I know this is an unusual request, but I was wondering if you could give me something back? That book about other gods? I need it back.”
There was no answer, but the flames grew agitated. Kevin winced as they burned his hands black.
“It’s not for me, it’s for Charles! It’s important!”
The flames crept up his arms, turning his fingers to charcoal.
“You know I’m loyal to you! I have not even the slightest interest in this god of holy cats and schisms, and anyway I thought you liked Charles! And that book isn’t for you anyway! It isn’t like you have any use for it.”
Kevin crossed what was left of his arms, and the flames spread across his body. And then they paused.
“Well?”
The fire flickered, retreated, pulsed. Sparks danced around the room.
“Are you planning on devouring me now or not? Don’t just half-complete a job, that’s so unproductive!”
Pressure began to build quickly on Kevin’s chest, growing until he couldn’t take a breath. The flames grew brighter, burning hotter. Then, quite suddenly, it all went away.
Kevin gasped, falling forwards, and caught himself with newly restored hands.
“Thank you,” he wheezed out, and the tiny flames dancing around his fingertips winked. He grinned back.
Sending the flames forth onto the pile of books and paint and gold and leather, Kevin drew a knife, making a shallow cut on one arm. White flames were already closing the wound as Kevin sprinkled the blood and the old ashes onto the other items.
There was a bright flash, and the book was there! Kevin laughed, sending out another bright thanks to the Smiling God in all Its generosity. The white flames sank beneath his skin once more.
The book! It was back! And it was perfect too! Kevin picked it up, flipping through the pages. Perfect! All the pretty art and gold leaf back too, Charles would be so happy again!
A few words caught his attention. Kevin froze, examining things more closely as an awful feeling of dread settled into his heart.
No.
Oh no, no, no, not perfect. What language was that? It had been English before, why were all the letters in the wrong order? Why were some of the artworks now of giant centipedes? This page was just scribbles!
No, it didn’t… this was unacceptable. The book was ruined.
Back to the original plan, then.
Where was the Lighthouse? He could hear she was nearby, how was she hiding? She was an enormous tower made of sandstone!
“It didn’t work! I need to find a new copy!”
I won’t show you the way!
“It’s my choice! My flame!”
It is my choice not to enable you on a journey that will snuff you out.
“Please! I need to!”
You don’t. It is only a book.
“Charles’ book. It’s worth it.”
It is not.
“Show me the way!”
No. Besides, aren’t you meant to be at the radio station anyway? Your show started a few minutes ago.
“Well, maybe so!”
Then go. I won’t show you to any other books. I won’t.
Kevin sighed, and turned back to the town. Desert sands whipped around his ankles, and the wind caressed his shoulders, but he ignored them. None of them wanted to help.
So what if the World Beyond would snuff out his flame? It was his flame to risk. The desert was lovely and his home and his soul, but it didn’t understand complex things like trying to make things right with a person you’ve hurt.
Perhaps he was a little morose going into the show. Unconsciously desolate, and grim. It was nice to hear from Cecil again though, even if it did turn out to be a past version of Cecil. And then Cecil was cut off by static anyway.
Kevin ended the show early. He sat at the desk, resting his head on the unusually dry surface. Oh, he hadn’t even remembered to make a fresh sacrifice before going on air. Did radio signals even work without ritual sacrifices?
StrexCorp. Why did that name just keep coming up? Why did they even come to Desert Bluffs in the first place? So much changed because of them…
If StrexCorp had never happened, Kevin would be more like Cecil. A dedicated radio host, one who liked cats and didn’t do stupid things like burning their lover’s prized possessions for no reason. Maybe he’d be nicer too, and less prone to wild bloodlusts, and Charles would like him more and not blanch every time he saw Kevin was wearing fresh blood. And maybe that other Kevin could look after Donovan without secretly thinking up plans of how to get rid of the perfectly lovely child just because he didn’t like that Donovan was Charles’ favourite person and Kevin wasn’t.
He could have been a different Kevin, one that still had eyes and still liked Lauren, and maybe he wouldn’t carry the Smiling God’s light beneath his skin but he’d still be devout and renew his smile every year, and things would be happy instead of joyful. Oh, he was being very morose now—
There was a knock at the door. Kevin jolted upright, sniffing and dabbing at his damp cheeks with a tissue.
“Kevin, are you still here?”
“Charles?”
How embarrassing! Being caught looking like such a negative nelly. He stood, glancing around the room. Nowhere to hide except under the desk. There was always the window, but he’d already answered, Charles knew he was in here, was opening the door—
He was here, just two strides away, Charles with his perfect hair and teeth like a Steinway, concealing a tongue that always said the most gorgeous things. Hands just right to smooth over all the places Kevin was jagged and sharp, except Kevin did something stupid and now those hands were wounded and wouldn’t come near him anymore.
“Hi Charles.”
“Kevin, I heard your show. It, uh, sounded a little darker than usual. I just wanted to check in with you. Make sure you’re okay. Um. Are you okay? Because usually your eyes are filled with starlight and now they just look like black empty voids—”
“I tried to fix it,” Kevin blurted out. “Your book, I mean. The one with the other god and the drawings in, well, of course you know which one. I should have asked you before I burned it, it wasn’t mine.”
“Kevin—”
“And yes, you’re right, it probably didn’t even need burning, it was valuable to you, and I should not have taken it.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.”
Kevin nodded, and looked down to the desk. The ruined book.
“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but that’s no excuse, because I did hurt you. So I’m sorry. And I’ve been trying to find some way to fix things and get you a new book.”
He slid the book across the desk towards Charles. Charles blinked, his mouth falling open in surprise.
“But this is—”
“It’s not. It isn’t the same. The insides are different. The Smiling God returned it but it came back ruined. And I tried to find one that was exactly the same, but there isn’t another one in the Bluffs and Carlos says there are none in Night Vale, and the Lighthouse is being difficult and won’t show me my way to any of the books in the World Beyond. I’ll talk to her though, and then I can go and find you another copy of the book to replace yours!”
Charles was staring at him, the book open in his hands, and Kevin really wasn’t the sort to feel anxious or fidget but it was taking a surprising amount of effort to keep still and keep eye contact. As much as Kevin could keep eye contact with anyone.
“You don’t need to replace my book,” Charles said.
“What? Of course I do.”
“No, you don’t. It’s okay.”
“Charles, I can find it. The Lighthouse has shown me, there’s an identical copy in a seaside cottage in the desert of the God of Holy Cats and Schisms. She said it would be a month at least to get there, but I bet I can find a shortcut through one of the otherworldly oak doors—”
Kevin cut himself off, staring at his wrists. They were both being circled by Charles’ hands.
“Kevin, it’s okay.”
“But I broke it.”
Charles sighed heavily, his thumbs rubbing circles into Kevin’s wrists and he felt dizzy.
“Kevin. We live in the Bluffs. I’ve accepted that sometimes my property is going to be randomly destroyed by fire, swarming insects, unpredictable eldritch disasters, librarians, masked armies, flood damage, and the light from the Smiling God. It happens, and I won’t be able to replace a lot of that stuff either.”
“I could—”
Charles had a hand on Kevin’s mouth. The dizzy feeling was getting stronger, and his knees went a little wobbly.
“We don’t need to replace things with exactly the same things. We’ll find and make new important things, different things. Like this book you got me.”
Kevin pulled Charles hand from his mouth. “You like it?”
“Very much so. You said you retrieved it from the Smiling God?”
“Yes, I asked and It returned the book. Charles, you’re not angry with me?”
Charles didn’t answer immediately, tracing over the cover of the book with one finger. He was frowning again, eyebrows pinched together, and Kevin’s hands itched to smooth the lines on his forehead all away.
“I was angry,” Charles began. “Angry and hurt and confused, and you understand why, right?”
Kevin nodded.
“And you won’t do something like that again?”
Kevin shook his head.
“Then I can forgive you for it.”
“You can forgive me… just like that? Just with words?”
“Well, sure!” Charles said with a crooked grin, catching Kevin’s hands to kiss his knuckles. “You apologised, and you meant it, didn’t you? It was a misunderstanding. And I really like you.”
“I really like you too,” Kevin said, staring at the skin Charles had kissed. The shape of Charles’ mouth. The way his eyelashes curled. The colour of the shadows beneath his eyes. “That’s why I was unhappy that I made you unhappy. I like it when you’re happy. I like making you happy.”
Charles’ eyes grew soft, reaching out to brush a thumb along Kevin’s cheekbone. “Your stars are back.”
“They missed you.”
“Did they?” Charles said, and the twist to his lips .
“The writing and the art, it’s all different than before.”
“Yeah, it looks like it’s written in Spanish—” Charles flicked through a few pages—“and that looks like Latin.”
“You mean Weird Spanish and Miskatonic Latin.”
“No, just regular Spanish and Latin.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“And yet, it is,” Charles said with a smirk, and Kevin whined, swaying towards him. Oh by all the glorious light of the Smiling God, Charles was so pretty when he smirked.
“Can I kiss you?”
Instead of answering, Charles drew him forwards, sliding a hand behind his head as warm lips slid across his own. Kevin gasped, pressing closer. It was several minutes before they broke apart.
“Are you busy tonight? Donnie and I are making chicken nuggets for dinner, we’d love to have you over.”
“I could move some things around,” Kevin said with a grin.