ABGuye's Art & Writings

Awakenings - Chapter 11

2009-11-28T18:44:54Z

February in Paragon City was cold, harsh, and always unpredictable. It wasn't the weather that made it that way, it was the villains. I woke up, for the third time this week, huddled against warm, hard muscle wrapped in two layers of clothes. Five days of power outages. We'd given up trying to keep things in the refrigerator cold and just put them all out on the balcony. At least none of the food had spoiled. Between my psycho kinesis and Urioch's energy powers, we could cook anything that could be cooked in a pot or skillet. I tried to tough it out the first couple nights, but my head cold only got worse. Urioch simply informed me that it was better to keep warm and healthy than prideful and ill. It wasn't pride, it was self preservation, but he'd been right. Without power, there was just no way to keep warm enough. Nights were dropping under zero and the days barely rose over twenty degrees. It was probably warmer in the sewers than it was in our apartment.

Watching my breath drift up in wafts of mist through the air, I sank in against my big, body warmer, and his arm tightened around me a bit. My thoughts drifted back to Christmas. I was making breakfast, French toast, when the first of our guests arrived. Levitating the pan away from the burner, I answered the door. "Breakfast?"

Magdalene smiled, standing in the hall wrapped in a soft green ruana and a comfortable looking sleeping dress. "Mmmmm," she sniffed the air, "French toast."

Stepping in, she handed me a couple boxes. "Merry Christmas, Jason."

I smiled, taking the boxes, and then looked up. Gay men could kiss anyone. It was a law. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and grinned. "Merry Christmas, Mags."

She looked up and laughed. "What a perfect greeting for the holidays." With that, she bent down and gave me a real kiss on the lips. I dropped the skillet and I turned as red as my shirt.

"I'll put these under the tree," I mumbled, heading for the tree post-haste.

"Whom are you expecting?" Mags walked into the kitchen, slid the skillet off the burner and saved my toast from burning.

"Janet is a definite, as is Blaize. Lenny should show up. Janet harassed him about the fact that a Jewish man had nothing better to do on Christmas than to spend time with friends anyway. I doubt Onyx will come. She didn't answer my email. Brawler has family, but sent his regards. I have no way of contacting Hon'dah, so if he feels it through the universal vibe he'll show. Demonicalle said she never misses a party. Professor Duggan said he would drop by."

Magdalene flipped the toasts out on to a plate and put on a couple more before turning around. "What does your shirt say?"

I grinned, pulling the hem down so she could see it more clearly. "Reformed Grinch!"

She laughed. "I like the red sweats as well. Very season spirited."

"I thought I should wear something with color in it. Most of the time I'm in black."

"Multi-tone Grey, actually." Urioch came into the room wearing comfortable sweats and a loose tee that didn't really disguise the muscle underneath. He looked at the tree. "I see you were able to restrain yourself."

I laughed. "I was anxious to open presents as a kid, Urioch. I'm not a kid any more."

"Much of the joy of gift giving is watching the recipient's reaction. I am glad you have not opened your presents yet."

"I don't have any presents, Urioch." I wasn't upset about it. I'd only bought presents two days before Christmas, so there was no way I was going to get mad about a lack of presents for myself. Magdalene stepped into the living room and raised an eyebrow at me. I corrected myself. "Okay, I have two presents."

"I suppose that the items in your stocking are for someone else?"

I snapped about and looked at the bookshelves. I'd put a couple of presents for other people in my stocking, but it had been nothing close to full. It was stuffed solid. "Oh, cool!" I hadn't realized what I'd done until I found myself on the floor, in front of the book shelves, digging presents out of my stocking. I grinned up at Urioch and Magdalene's amused expressions as I slowly got off the floor, moved the presents to the coffee table, and sat down in the arm chair. "Okay, so some habits die hard."

Magdalene laughed, coming around the couch to kiss me on the forehead. "You are adorable. You have such a capacity for joy when you allow yourself to feel it."

I grinned. "Good teachers."

Joy was only one of the lessons my teachers were good at, I realized as I came back to the present. Another was to make the most of peaceful moments. Moments of peace were a hard earned, but kept life so much clearer. I lay there, being held, and let the moment last. We didn't have power, we didn't have heat or light, but I was warm, content and safe. If that wasn't peace, I didn't know what was.

Unfortunately, peace seldom lasted long, especially in Paragon. The panicked beeping of the communicators shattered the stillness of the room. Yanking the things to me from the nightstand, I handed Urioch his while I looked at mine. How they managed to keep emergency system communications going with hardly anything else working was something I just couldn't understand. My call was from the Cygnus Medical Center. Urioch's was from Freedom Corps.

"Hello?"

"Jason," Amanda's sounded desperate and exhausted, "I know you have issues with using your powers, but we really need help from healers and I'm running out of people to call."

"Uhm," I looked at Urioch as he rolled over to the other side of the bed to talk more clearly with Corps Headquarters, "I'm not sure if I'm even available. We just got a call from the Corps."

"I'll hold." Hold? How did you go on hold on an emergency frequency?

Urioch looked at me. "They have recovered the power plants, but the Clockwork have scavenged key points of the power grid during the outage. They need help clearing the junctions of danger before the workers can repair the grid."

"Do you need me?" Though I knew it was wrong, I really hoped he did. I didn't want to face the hospital.

"What was your call?"

I cursed at him silently before answering. "Amanda says the hospital is desperate for healers."

Urioch nodded. "I believe we can find enough support for the task, Jason. Healers are a limited resource. You should go to the hospital."

God damn it. I didn't want to go to the hospital. I put the communicator to my head. "I can be there in a half hour."

"Thanks, Jason." She hung up.

I frowned at Urioch before rolling out of bed. So much for peace. I'd rather have fought a gang of gay rapists, naked, than tried to heal people. "Keep safe. I don't want to come back to find you're missing the tips of your ears from frostbite."

"My armor provides me adequate thermal protection," he answered, following me out.

I stopped before walking to the bathroom. The water mains had been shut off after the second night to prevent pipes from exploding when they froze. We had antifreeze in the sinks and toilet. "Damn it, I hate pissing in a bucket." We had a chemical toilet that Blaize loaned us. The Damage Control guys had managed to keep Infernotech's garage as a warm zone, so the building had become a shelter. They had minimal power from a generator, and they had the ability to flush if they melted snow into the toilet tanks. I heard they had over a hundred people sheltered in the place. Janet was staying with them over the blackout. She didn't do well when she was cold.

"I am thankful we have a way to eliminate that does not soil the apartment," he went into the kitchen while I made use of the 'facilities', "I'll melt some water to drink and to wash. This may prove to be a long, tiring day for both of us."

Of that I had no doubt.

I was still trying to get the fantasies of alternate bathing scenarios out of my head when I landed at the Hospital. Sponge bathing, in the radiant aura of the guy you're nuts for but can't have, was a torture I didn't need. It didn't faze Urioch, of course, but at times I thought he could just shut off anything associated with hormones. I certainly couldn't. I kept my back to him the whole time so he wouldn't see that the chill didn't diminish the effect he had on me. It didn't help that I hadn't been able to jack off in nearly a week. Too damn cold to keep it out that long, and in bed I wasn't alone. Life was quickly become a frozen hell, and the day had started out so nicely.

Amanda wheeled around the sleeping and huddled forms of the people lining the halls. The place reminded me of the hospitals after the Rikti Invasion. "Jason, I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but I'm out of options." The hospital had minimal power from emergency generators. They were lucky to be able to keep the place heated, and it still wasn't all that warm inside.

"That's okay, I know you wouldn't call if it wasn't major." I still didn't like it. I'd only managed to heal a couple people other than Urioch and myself, and only people I knew personally. Pulling up the necessary emotional energy to heal complete strangers just hadn't worked. "I don't know what I can do."

"Anything is better than nothing at this point." We wheeled to a medical elevator. Apparently the main elevators were offline. "We can't do more than a few surgeries a day with the limited power and water. We've been shipping out all the patients we can to other cities, but every day we have more people showing up."

"Urioch says that we've recovered the power plants. Hopefully, they'll restore power soon."

Amanda handed me a badge as we got into the elevator. It was white with "Paranormal Healer" and an ID number in green. "You'll need to wear this. The scanning system isn't working, so they can't verify your medical clearance, but no one is going to care at the moment."

I looked at the ID as the elevator went up. She couldn't' have had the thing made during the crisis. "This ID mine?"

"Yep. I had the number put through when we confirmed your abilities." Amanda shrugged as the doors opened.

We nearly bumped into Demonicalle as we came out of the elevator into the emergency care unit. She looked wiped out. Her normal vibrant green skin was more like a grey-moss green. "Amanda, there's nothing I can do for Mr. Peterson. If I pump any more radiation into him, his nervous system may shut down."

Amanda put her gloved hand on Demonicalle's arm. "There's only so much anyone can do, Calle. Get some rest."

Demonicalle laughed, pulling out her communicator. "No such luck. They need me up at nuclear plant. Biotech is on her way there, but apparently there was a leak and they have hundreds of people who have been exposed. My powers can fix that a lot easier than some of the problems here."

"Don't burn yourself out, Demonicalle." Even her aura was dull to my perceptions. How long had it been since she'd slept?

She flashed me a trademark Demoncalle smile. "Not a chance. I still have a hot gay boy to teach how to dance."

I laughed. God I loved her. No one could make me smile faster than she could, even Urioch. I blinked for a moment, realizing what I just thought. I put out my hands. "Give me your hands." It couldn't have been that simple.

Demonicalle looked at me for a moment, tucked away her communicator, and gripped my hands. "What?"

I closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the happy feeling she'd given me the moment before. "Shhh." Wrapping my thoughts around the feeling, I tried to give the joy and happiness back to her. There wasn't even a lock for me to undo. The energy just poured out. It wasn't the overwhelming rush or explosion that I had when trying to save Urioch or myself, but it flowed. I opened my eyes, and watched the white-green radiance surround my hands and spread over her. As it faded, I could see her color was a lot cleaner. She still looked tired, but the dead look of exhaustion was gone.

Demonicalle took a deep breath and let go of my hands. "Thanks." Her eyes met mine and I knew she'd felt the whole exchange. Her communicator beeped, and she hit the button for the elevator. "I've got to get to the power plant."

I got out her way, but gripped her arm. "I meant it. Don't burn yourself out."

"So did I," she laughed, "I'm still going to drag your ass out on the floor and teach you to move." She got onto the elevator and hit the down button. "Later, loser."

"Losers Rule!" I pumped my fist in the air as the door closed.

Amanda smiled at me. "Glad to see someone still has his spirits up. We could use an injection of confidence around here."

"I'll do my best." I wasn't sure I could replicate what I'd done with Demonicalle with just anyone, but I was going to give it my best shot. "Who's in the worst shape?"

Wheeling down toward the emergency room, Amanda sighed, "Mr. Peterson. Automobile accident; back broken in several places; he had brain swelling which we managed to release with a drain, but he's paralyzed – probably quadriplegic, but without the scanning systems we're working blind. Without main power, we don't have the tissue regeneration systems. He's on breathing and organ maintenance units, but even those are dicey."

"I don't know, Amanda. I mean, I can hardly heal myself and Urioch… this sounds a lot worse than anything I've done before."

"If you can just give his system some strength to hold out until we have power again, that will be enough."

I looked in at the man on the other side of curtain. They didn't even have all the monitors working. I could feel the disconnection, almost like he had snapped electrical lines within him. "I'll try, but I'm not making any promises."

Amanda's beeper went off. "Damn. You go in, Jason. You've got clearance." Wheeling up the hall, she headed for the emergency entrance.

I sighed, went in, and smiled as the poor guy looked at me. "Hi, I'm Jason." It didn't even occur to me that I was in costume. It probably wasn't the best thing to wear a black costume with stylized skull mask and a skull logo when in the hospital.

Even though was on pretty severe drugs, his eyes went wide and I felt his surprise and a touch of fear.

"I apologize for the outfit. Normally I'm trying to scare the shit out of the bad guys, not comfort patients." Fuck it. I peeled back the mask.

There wasn't much for me to work with. There were no visitors, no flowers, no photos, no cards, nothing for me to get a bead on who David Peterson was. Empathic healing required some connection, something that allowed me to bond with the other person. That was why healing strangers had never worked. Me, yeah; Urioch, at a moment's notice; friends, apparently that wasn't as out of my realm as I'd originally thought. But a stranger was unknown territory. I wasn't even sure how long he'd been here. I eyed the chart at the foot of the bed and wondered if my paranormal healer status allowed me access to his medical information or not.

So what now, Jase? Just sit here and empathically record all the odd and painful sensations I observe? I laced and unlaced my fingers on my lap as I waited for inspiration, or a sign.

I felt his curiosity about me building between bouts of pain, fear and chemically induced fog. I wondered if I should use his first name when I talked to him; Mr. Peterson sounded so detached and cold – he definitely needed some connection and warmth.

"May I call you David?"

It seemed to take a moment for him to register what I'd asked, and he couldn't talk, but I felt what seemed to be a favorable response.

"Cool."

His attention returned to me as I stood beside his bed again. He couldn't move his head, so sitting at the head of the bed gave him no sense of company. In addition to his attention, I felt he was curious.

I tapped the side of my head. "Empath. I can't read your thoughts, but I get impressions."

He seemed to understand what I meant.

"So, uhm," yeah, my bedside manner was stellar, "you have family?"

Yep.

"Kids?"

Yep.

"How many?"

That was a problem. I frowned as I tried to figure out what I felt. Yes and no, true and false had both intellectual and emotional components. Numbers didn't seem to carry the same emotional energy; at least not the thought of numbers by themselves.

"One?"

That didn't feel right.

"Two?"

Nope.

"Three?"

Yep; he had three kids. More importantly, he loved them a lot.

I just stood there, not sure what to ask next, and his mind wandered. I was pretty sure he was thinking about his kids, or his family, because the base sensation of love hadn't changed; but his emotions were a mixture of love, regret, guilt, and fear.

"Worried about them, huh?"

He looked back at me, and I knew I was right.

All in all, he looked like he'd been a healthy, robust man; not a body builder or super hero, but he had been in pretty good physical shape. I guessed he was used to being the strong, dependable, provider and protector. "Were they with you," I asked, nodding at him, "you know, in the car?"

His relief made it evident to me that they hadn't been.

"Cool. I'm glad your kids are okay."

The worried, guilt ridden love came back. I didn't need empathy to see it; his emotions came through the fog in his eyes.

I pondered that for a moment, and then reached down to put him had on his chest. He couldn't feel my hand there, but I made sure he saw me do it. "Can you think about them? Your kids?"

He did, and for a moment I felt the warmth of his love rise up through my palm. Unfortunately, he quickly began to worry, and the guilt and fear started polluting what I felt.

"Hey, David." He looked at me. "Can you try to just think about how much you love them? I mean, without the worry and stuff?" I tried to smile encouragingly. "Good thoughts help."

That sounded weak, even to me, but he tried. He closed his eyes and the other emotions faded back a bit. Most people couldn't control their emotions, I certainly couldn't, so that was the best I was going to get. I closed my eyes and focused on the energy I felt in his chest. I drew it up my arm, wrapped it around the green-white light in my own chest, and then let the energy flow back down into him. Slowly, the other emotions disappeared as the love brightened.

I opened my eyes, but I didn't see the room. I was lost in a world of green-white light. Memories that weren't mine faded in and out. The birth of my son, my daughter's first steps, Sunday morning funnies in bed with the whole family snuggled together; the memories felt so real, as if I'd lived that life, but I hadn't. I gathered them up and pushed them down into the body below me. David's eyes snapped open, light radiating from them as he gasped. I swore I heard his bones cracking.

I flinched, and the connection snapped. I watched as the light faded from around us. David was crying; so was I. I went for a nurse.

"So he's stronger," I asked as the nurse checked David's pulse and blood pressure herself. He woke up about a half hour after I'd tried to heal him. It felt like there was a touch more vitality in him, but I wasn't sure.

"I don't know how, but yes." She looked at me. "Can you see any other patients?"

Taking a breath, I nodded. "Yeah, but I think I want a white coat or something to go over this." I tapped my costume. "I don't think, Doctor Death, is the impression we want to give someone when I walk in."

"I'll get you one and find out who you should work with next." She left as I got up and touched David's arm.

"I'll check on you later, okay?"

He smiled, he still couldn't speak, but I almost heard his, "Thank you."

I left him, wishing I could do more, and met the nurse in the hall as she brought back the coat. "I've got a list."

Sliding on the coat, I grinned. "I guess I'll be crying for a while." My eyes were still red from working with David.

"Honey," she said, glancing into David's room before she turned to take me to my next patient, "if I could do anything like that for these people, I'd be crying too."

Main power for the hospital came back, after several false starts, about eight pm. It was midnight when I sat down in the lounge, between two sleeping orderlies, and realized I hadn't eaten anything but the half-thawed fruit we'd warmed up that morning. I closed my eyes and sank against the cushions of the chair. Sleep claimed me almost immediately. I woke to the smell of something warm and creamy that had me salivating. Opening my eyes, I saw Urioch crouched down, holding a cup of coffee a short distance from my nose. "You're a god," I mumbled, taking the coffee from him and sipping it. It was horrible coffee, and had creamer instead of cream, but I didn't care. It was warm and had caffeine.

Urioch chuckled. "I have been promoted?"

"What are you talking about," I asked as I sat up in the seat, sipping more of the horrible, life giving liquid.

"You had described me as an angel once. I was unaware of my promotion to the status of a deity."

I frowned at him. "I never called you an angel." I'd thought it more than once, but I was pretty certain I hadn't said it.

He shrugged. "It was while I flew you to the hospital during your overdose. I doubt you would remember."

Damn his eidetic memory. He probably remembered things I'd said in my sleep, or under my breath, that I would never have said in my right mind. "You can't believe anything a person says when he's drugged up and dying."

Frowning slightly, Urioch regarded me as I tried to keep from looking as nervous as I felt. "I find that people close to death speak the truth more easily for they feel they have nothing left to lose." He shrugged again and stood up. "It is not important. Your assessments in both cases were false."

It was time to change the topic. "Ready to go home?"

"The apartment may not have power for another day or two. They are still struggling to stabilize the emergency services grid."

As tempting as a warm building with running water was, I wanted out of the place. I'd cried and poured out more emotion in one day than I had in an entire year. I wanted to go home, to my little space, and just be alone. Okay, not necessarily alone, but at least with someone I didn't have to pour everything into. Urioch was easy. He already had just about everything I could feel. There wasn't any work involved. "I'd rather sleep in my own bed."

"Mine," he corrected, "in your exhausted state, it would be unwise to chance getting chilled."

"Yes, Dad," I complained as I rolled my eyes. I was glad I wouldn't lose my body warmer. I was getting used to him.

Janet chewed on her burger while we waited for Lenny to arrive. He was over a half hour late. She quietly ate while Blaize and I caught up. We hadn't had a chance to get together since February.

"I can't believe you slept with him for a week and didn't get jiggy." Blaize shook his head and slurped down his Coke.

"Oh yeah, that would have been rich. What was I going to do, say 'let's fuck, we'll keep warmer that way'?" I snorted, taking a sip of my water. "Even if he weren't straight, no one would fall for that one."

Blaize's complexion shifted, and I felt a wave of what I couldn't identify until Janet spoke up. "Why not, it worked for me?"

I blinked at her, and then looked back at Blaize. Dark skinned or not, the guy was blushing hot enough to fry an egg. "Oh my God. You and Janet?"

Blaize frowned, reaching over to grab Janet's hand. "What? I happen to like skinny, white chicks. Big boobs and butt just end up being saggy when you get older."

Janet grinned. "He isn't the most romantic guy on the planet, but he's great at keeping a girl warm at night."

"So is a muscle-bound elf, but his methods are totally platonic." I wanted to feel virtuous, but I started to wonder if the ploy would have worked. I may not have gotten sex, but a naked Urioch pressed against me would have been nice. No, no that would have been worse.

"Look who decided to grace us with his presence," Janet quipped as Lenny followed the host to our table.

Lenny frowned at her as he took his seat. "I couldn't get in. Didn't anyone know that you can't get into this place without a SC level of five?"

Skylines was a favorite hero restaurant. In downtown Steel Canyon, it was at the top of one of the tallest buildings and had a landing terrace for heroes who could fly. To get in, one member of any party had to be at least security level five. I hadn't mentioned my promotions yet. "Yeah, so?"

"So how the hell are we in here? I stood around downstairs, waiting for you guys to show up, convinced someone must have been on drugs when we made the date." Lenny hated being wrong, late or even improper.

Janet and Blaize looked at me. I shrugged. "Okay, so I'm SCL5. I didn't think about it." It was just a little white lie.

"When did you get SCL5?" Blaize frowned, leaning in. "I'm only SCL3, and I got my clearance less than a month after you did!"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

Janet narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, right. You got your SCL4 in February after spending nearly a week performing miracles on people." She looked at Blaize. "If you read the Freedom Corps daily updates you'd have known. Jason healed like a whole emergency room of people during the freeze."

"Janet." I still wasn't comfortable with my healing powers. It wasn't hard for me to do any longer, but Freedom Corps had begun receiving pleas for healing. Demonicalle and Magdalene assured me that the celebrity status would die out after a while. I'd simply shown up during a crisis and the word had gotten out. I hadn't wanted to get together to talk about me. I wanted to catch up with my friends. I looked at Lenny. "You're looking good."

Lenny smiled. "Well, finally having a mentor means I can move forward with life."

Blaize whooped, causing a few people to look our way, and Janet clapped her hands together.

"That is wonderful, Lenny. When? Who?" Janet nearly spilled her drink, leaning in to get the details.

"I have Mr. Modest to thank for that," he smiled at me. "He introduced me to my mentor back at Christmas."

I grinned. "Shaed is your mentor?" I had wondered if anything had come of their meeting. Professor Duggan and Lenny had chatted on and off at the apartment during Christmas.

Lenny nodded. "Since January, but we really didn't started working together until March. Shaed had to be cleared to mentor. There was some question about his active status."

"He puts so much time in at the University and teaching self-defense classes that I doubt he puts more than a night a week into superheroing."

"Yeah, apparently you have to have so many hours a year on record in order to mentor. It took him a couple months to fulfill the active hour requirements." That explained why Professor Duggan had looked so tired over the last couple months.

We ordered our lunches, Janet ordered her second lunch, and we got back to catching up. Lenny looked at me suspiciously. "So, have you been saving up? Even the burgers are twelve bucks."

I shrugged. "I got a gift certificate."

Janet eyed me. "You're holding out on us, Jason. Spill."

I sighed. "One of the people I helped back in February has a relative who works here." It was only a little lie. It was the granddaughter of one of the owners. "I received a thank you through Freedom Corps, including the gift certificate." Gift Card with renewing meal credits. If I ate all the credits myself, I could have stopped for lunch or dinner several days a week for the rest of my life. I liked eating with friends.

"So, anything else?" Janet looked from me to Blaize. "I swear, getting him to talk about this stuff is like pulling teeth."

I think Blaize finally picked up on my discomfort, and bless him, he changed the subject. "Look, you guys may be all hot and bothered about hero news, but I'm not. I want to help, but being a full time hero isn't my bag. Once I fulfill my parole period, I'll stay registered, but I'm not going to spend every night on stake outs and trying to bust the baddies. I want a real life."

Thankful for any new subject, I looked at Janet.

She shrugged. "I want to support the hero community rather than be one of them. I'll always be on call, but I agree with Blaize. I want to have a normal life."

I looked at Lenny. "What about you?"

"What I want and what I can have isn't necessarily the same thing." I had noticed the dark miasma wicking lightly from him. We were at a hero restaurant, so people were in costume, had auras of power, and everything else. Lenny's leaking darkness wasn't even noticed. "Shaed says he has a friend who could use another cook since his place is open 24/7. It isn't owning my own restaurant, but at least I get to do something other than flip burgers."

"So you're going to be part-time hero, part time cook?" It was really depressing to think I was the only one of my parole friends who planned to take up the hero mantle full time.

"For now, part-time student, part-time hero. I'll see what happens when it happens." Lenny never counted his eggs before they were hatched.

Blaize eyed me. "You were the only one of us with this hero shit in his blood, Deathman. Don't look so depressed. You've got more important things to be depressed about."

"Like what," I frowned, taking a drink.

"Like how the fuck you're going to get your gay ass laid."

I spit all over the table as Blaize laughed and Janet defended herself with a blurring napkin. Lenny just wrapped himself in darkness. Glaring at Blaize, I wiped my face while trying to come up with a response. "The last thing I need right now is to get mixed up with some guy, Blaize. Just because you're easy and Janet has no taste, doesn't mean the rest of us are desperate to be coupled."

Blaize mock growled at me. "You diss'in on my woman?"

I laughed. "No. I'm saying she's a saint for taking you off the prowl. Women everywhere praised the Lord when it happened."

Janet sipped her coke, grinning. "Good recovery, Jason." She blew Blaize a kiss and then narrowed her eyes at me.

Blaize laughed. "Man, could you imagine, at this time last year, that you'd be an honorary member of a high-profile hero group and eating in a place like this?"

"A year ago, Blaize, I was on the street, about to be promoted in an entirely different way." I suddenly realized that it would be a year since the day I died, the day I met Urioch, and the day life started over, in less than a week.

"When we're all sitting on our collective asses, watching the television with rug rats running around, screaming, you're going to be one of those guys everyone talks about. 'I remember Death's Head back when he was...'" Blaize grinned. "You'll be out saving the world while we're trying to save the dishes from a munchkin stampede."

"Fuck it. I don't care if you guys all go off and get houses with white picket fences and have two and a half kids each. We'll still be friends, right?"

"United bro," Blaize affirmed, putting his fist out. We all bumped knuckles.

I sat there, memorizing the feeling that settled on the table before our food arrived. This was family. It didn't matter what we did, where we went, or who we met, if one of us needed help, we'd be there. I made a note to give thanks for that next Sunday.

I stared at the latest stacks of letters from Freedom Corps sorted on my bed. There was the stack from the nut cases, who didn't get responses. There was the stack of the general well wishers, who received a generic 'thank you' response. There was the stack of hate mail, which I'd turn over to Freedom Corps for threat analysis. And then there was the stack of sincere, heart wrenching letters from people in need. I never knew how to respond to those. I looked up as Urioch came to the door. "How do you deal with all of this?"

The promised decline of celebrity status had not materialized. Next Sunday was Easter, and I was amazed at how many people wrote heroes for miracles instead of praying. No, it wasn't amazing, it was disturbing.

"Jason, you know that Freedom Corps provides the services of the Media Communications and Image Department for dealing with a member hero's fan base. The majority of the mail addressed to me is dealt with by the MCID." Urioch looked at my pile. "You were told to register your media management preferences with the MCID when you received your level one clearance."

"I know, I know," I grumbled, looking at the stacks with dread. I never thought media management would be an issue for me, so I'd skipped those forms. "What do I do with all of this?"

"Determine which letters are ones you would like to personally address, segregate, and then log into your Freedom Corps account to arrange for media management support. The MCID is quite skilled at it."

I sighed; it made sense. "Okay."

"Dinner is ready." Urioch left me to deal with my stacks while he set the table.

As I shut down my laptop, I looked at the paper bag that had a certain bit of fan mail I needed to deliver personally. I picked up the paper bag and brought it with me to dinner. Urioch raised an eyebrow at me as I put the bag next to his plate and sat down. "What is this?"

Were my palms sweating? I grinned, trying to cover up the nervousness eating away at my gut. "Open it and find out."

Urioch peeled open the envelope, pulled out the card, and read it quietly. I knew what it said, of course; I'd agonized over what to get him for days. The cover read, "Life at times is about survival," and the inside read, "Friendship teaches us how to live. Thanks for everything, Jason." Though there were hundreds of cards to "rescuers" available, Urioch was more than the hero who saved me. He'd been my friend, even when I hadn't wanted one, and I had no way of expressing how much that meant to me. He smiled, put the card back in its envelope, and looked at me. "Thank you, Jason."

Fuck! I wasn't going to cry. Why the hell did becoming a good guy mean I had to be a damn fire hydrant? "Open you present."

He pulled the book out of the bag. It had taken me forever to find something I was sure he hadn't read and expressed the things I couldn't. It was an antique book of poetry about friendship. Well, I wasn't sure if it was really an "antique", but it was older than me. I spent two afternoons at Lowenski's trying to find something unique. The old bastard had let me look, fret and grumble for hours before he asked me what I was looking for. When I told him, he just went back to his desk and pulled out the slim, old, well worn book and handed it to me. I'd read a quarter of it, crying at the words I couldn't express for myself, and knew it was what I wanted. The title was simply, "Friends."

"What brought this about?" He set the book down, safely away from the food zone, and looked at me.

"It was a year ago today that you blew your way into my life, saved it, and gave me a chance to start over." I shrugged. "I'd forgotten what it was like to have friends, feel safe, and believe in myself." I wanted to add, I'd forgotten what it was like to love, but I didn't. "I just wanted to say thanks."

"It is not necessary, Jason. I am your friend." He looked back at the book and smiled. "Thank you."

After dinner, lying on the couch watching a movie I'd missed while on the streets, Xmen, I realized at some point in the last six months I'd gone from lying on the couch with my feet in Urioch's lap, to being stretch across the couch with my head in his lap. When had that happened? I just closed my eyes and listened to the music of the closing credits. Urioch flicked off the TV, but neither of us made a move to get up. His fingers had been softly stroking my hair most of the movie. We stayed there, me laying on the couch and him sitting on it with his fingers in my hair, and he started reading from the book I'd given him.

We talked,
We walked,
for a Moment in Time.

You passed through my life that day and left your mark.
You may never pass my way again,
Or you may stay for a lifetime.

No matter what,
I want to say thank you for the impression you made
that will stay with me for eternity.

I enjoyed the walk,
I enjoyed the talk.
I am blessed for that moment in time.

The first time I saw you I knew you would affect my life,
though your role I did not know.
I asked myself, "Why is he alone?
Why does he sit so quiet, all alone?
Is he sad?
Is he glad to be alone?
Is he alone?
Is he lonely? "
There is so much I want to know.

I asked myself, "Why him?
When so many people pass through my life each day,
why him? "

What attracts me to you?
What makes me want to know more?
I want to know.

Even if my questions are never answered,
There is one thing I want you to know.
I have been blessed by the effect you had on me in that
Moment in Time.
(A Moment in Time, by Cynthia Kepp)

I drifted away, listening to the music of his voice as he softly read poem after poem. All I could think was how close it came to sounding like "I love you". I always slept like a baby when I fell asleep with Urioch reading to me.

Awakenings - Chapter 10

2009-10-24T23:23:31Z

"Dinner will be ready in a half hour," Urioch said as he stuck his head in my room.

"Uh hmmm," I mumbled in acknowledgement, trying to figure out what I was going to write for my paper on the gay culture in America. I might have underhandedly tried to figure out if Urioch would have a problem with gays by slipping the books into the bag, but I really had planned on writing the paper. The problem with writing a paper on a group that I was a member of, but didn't feel like I was a member of, was that it depressed me. I pushed away from my desk after a few more futile attempts to write anything approaching intelligent, and walked into the living room. "I've got to take a break anyway."

Urioch looked up from his book as I sat down on the arm of the couch and rubbed my eyes. I had no idea what he was reading. It was in German. The pointy-eared freak could read and speak something like twenty languages. "What are you working on?"

I groaned. "My major report for sociology. I wanted to write something about the gay culture in the United States, but the more I read, the more depressing it gets." I looked at him. "I guess it is sort of a dual purpose project. I wanted to figure out what 'gay life' was supposed to be like."

Urioch sat up; nodding at the gay romance I'd slipped into his stack. I planned on using the excuse that it was a misplaced research book. "That would be yours then."

I pulled the book out of the stack. "Yeah, I guess it got in the wrong stack." No, but that was my story. Okay, it was a little white lie. It wasn't like I was denying it was my book. "I'm sorry if was a problem."

Urioch shrugged. "The writing was on par with the average romance novel, though the author focused more on the sexual aspects of relationships than the mental or emotional."

"Welcome to the world of 'Gay Romance'," I grumbled, tossing the book back on the coffee table. "Everything I've read seems to say 'go out and fuck your way to true love'." The oven timer went off, a nice dramatic touch to my frustrated exclamation, and I got off the couch. "It's like all you need is to fuck and be fucked, and if it's good enough, love and commitment will follow." Grumbling, I walked into the kitchen and turned off the oven. "What's wrong with meeting someone, getting to know him, maybe date a couple times, and then have incredible sex?"

"Nothing," Urioch answered, pulling the dishes down from the cabinets. "I do see your dilemma. The standard, heterosexual romance story involves more emotional, need based events than sexually driven events. It does seem that the normal homosexual romance involves a pattern of sex, drama, loss, and eventual fulfillment."

"The dating sites online are just as bad," I huffed, realizing I was more frustrated than I'd imagined. So I was already in love, that didn't mean I couldn't find someone else, did it? "Most of the listings are like a menu of features a guy does or doesn't want in a sex partner. Whatever happened to: young, attractive, professional hero, likes sunset flights over the park, quiet nights of reading on the couch, and the occasional boom flick, seeking like minded man for serious relationship?" Pulling out the baking tray, I set it on the stove top and peeled back the aluminum foil. "Where are the guys like that?"

"At home, complaining about the lack of the men they have described, while preparing dinner," Urioch replied, taking the baking dish from me and setting it on the table.

"Yeah, well... it sucks being unique." I sat down, feeling some of my tension dissolve while smiling a little over Urioch's assertion that I was an attractive, professional hero.

"It does have distinct disadvantages," he agreed, sitting down and picking up the serving spoon. "Plate?"

I handed him my plate, feeling like a heel. "That wasn't very sensitive of me was it?"

"No harm done," he smiled, "I am flattered that you simply see me as a person, instead of an alien."

No, I definitely didn't think of him as alien. A mystery at times. Frustrating. Maddening. Dream inspiring. Alien was nowhere close to the top of my list of descriptors. "You are. You know you're a person to me, right?"

Our eyes met over plates of baked chicken and broccoli fettuccini, and it could have been a hallmark moment. It would have been, had I been the character in a romance novel. Hell, if that were the case, the food would have been on the floor and I'd have had a big, hung, lusty alien teaching me all the 'unique' things he could do while fucking me through the table. I blinked, pulling back from the fantasy that had my jeans stretching too tight to be comfortable. Urioch nodded. "Yes, Jason. I know."

We ate quietly, occasionally discussing our patrol pattern for the next week. I hadn't realized how much time heroes spent just doing nothing but patrolling and waiting for someone to commit a crime. I floated the dishes to the sink while packaging the leftovers in rubbermaid tubs. "I think I'm going to turn in early."

Urioch sat back down on the couch and picked up his high-minded, German novel. "Sleep well, Jason."

I didn't sleep well at all. I woke up to damp underwear, and feeling sweaty from three separate dreams of alternate dinner scenarios. All of them were erotic-novel worthy. After a quick toss of the wet whities at the hamper, I sat and thought about Urioch. We'd been partners nearly a month and it was getting harder and harder not to do something to ruin it. Maybe Demonicalle was right. Maybe I just needed to get laid. It wouldn't solve the love issue, but maybe it would let me get some sleep.

"Jason, what happened to you?" Jose looked at my face with dismay as I ascended the steps to the PYRC.

Shrugging, I lied, "Sparring practice." At his skeptical frown I added, "I thought I was better at sparring than I am… got my ass handed to me." In truth, I'd gotten cocky in a battle with a group of Hellions; one caught me across the face with a bat. Thank God for elastisteel.

Jose shook his head, and pushed open the door. "If I'd made it off the street with your looks, I'd be protecting my face… not bashing it up."

I blushed. "Yeah, yeah. Maria likes your face just fine."

He shot me a gold-filled grin. "Yeah, but with your looks I could'a gone into modeling."

"If I had your confidence, I could too," I laughed.

We got to the meeting room and Jose stopped before opening the door. "Yeah, man… you could. You're the only one who thinks you can't."

I nodded at his hand on the knob. "You can open the door, Jose."

He shrugged, and opened the door. "Just say'n."

We took our seats and everyone looked my way. There wasn't anyone new this time. I wished Patrick was back, but there was no indication he had any intention of returning to the PYRC. Leading a help group wasn't my bag, but I'd promised to keep it going and I was getting in the habit of keeping my promises.

"I think Jose had a great idea for today's discussion." I eyed Jose evilly before I continued. "How we hold ourselves back in life…"

Jose snorted, but I could feel he was happy to have been heard. If I was going to be stuck with weekly meetings in the old neighborhood, I was going to make the most of them!

"Jason, you're blocking," Amanda complained as she pulled her fingers from her temple. "We're trying to figure out why you can't get your healing powers to work on command."

I groaned, feeling sore from all the internal tap dancing. I wanted to just call it quits. "Maybe my powers are just need based."

"Possible, but I don't think so." She pinched the bridge of her nose before looking at me. "You and Urioch have been coming back from arrests bruised, burned and battered. I would definitely say there's been a need."

"Not life threatening need!" I was grasping at straws. We both knew it.

"Why are you fighting this?"

"I am not!"

She looked at me, calmly, but with no hint of backing down. "Yes you are."

"Why, why, why!" I got out of the chair and paced to the window. "All you ever ask is why!"

"That's because you're the only one with the answers, Jason. All I can do is ask the question."

I hugged myself, looking out at the November rain, feeling a lot colder than the weather looked. "It's too hard."

"Using your power?"

I shook my head, closing my eyes. "It's too hard to deal with the consequences."

"What consequences, Jason?" Amanda's voice was so soothing. I wouldn't have made it through all that had happened since I gained my powers as anything close to sane if it hadn't been for her.

"I fucking love him more." I looked at her. "Every time I use the power, it's like it amplifies what I feel. If I keep doing it, I'll go nuts."

Amanda sat back, regarding me thoughtfully. "I'd never thought 'too much love' would be a problem you'd face, Jason."

I snorted. "Yeah, some joke, huh?"

"You said you haven't been sleeping well. Is that why?"

"Yeah. I keep dreaming of him, of us, and I want it to be real." I walked back to the chair and dropped into it. "I want our friendship more." I shrugged, feeling pathetic. Who the hell bitched about being in love but a loser like me? "I need it more. I won't kill it just for a chance at a hot fuck."

Amanda glanced at the clock. I think she could tell she wasn't going to get much more out of me this session. I'd already shoveled out a heaping load of emotional crap. That was enough. "I hear you've been cleared for security level three."

I nodded. With higher levels came more challenging assignments and better pay. There were a lot of independent heroes who felt that getting paid to fight crime destroyed the sanctity of being a super hero. They called us the same as they called Hero Corps. We were "heroes for hire". That wasn't true. Freedom Corps was the equivalent of paranormal police. Policemen got paid. They didn't have to volunteer their time and risk their lives out of altruism. They wanted to protect people and make a difference, and the city provided for their livelihood so they could do it. It was the same with us. We were to Hero Corps the way Police were to Bounty Hunters or body guards. The distinction, however, was lost on the detractors of Freedom Corps. "I should get a nice deposit for retro pay before Christmas. That's about when the paperwork will make it through."

"You don't sound too thrilled about the promotion, Jason. You're moving faster than anyone else in the parole program."

I shrugged. "Half way to level seven and independence."

"And you're not looking forward to that?"

"No," I sighed. "If working and living with him day in and day out is painful, being told to go out on my own will probably kill me."

"Sounds like you think you're stuck no matter what you do."

I nodded again. "I know. The only reason I haven't done something to fuck it up is that it would reflect badly on Urioch. I didn't expect to get promoted so fast."

Amanda shrugged. "You and Urioch make an effective team, Jason. From what I hear, you two bring down more criminals than teams of four or five heroes."

I didn't want to go over how good a team we were. We were an awesome team. We were too fucking good. I was just so damn comfortable with Urioch. I fell asleep the other night, reading on the couch, and woke up drooling on his shoulder, with his arm around me. He'd let me sleep there and kept reading. I had to stay on my guard to keep from crossing the line. "How's Patrick?"

Amanda sighed. "Doing better, but I'm not sure that's saying all that much. Physically his body has mended. He needs to take his physical therapy more seriously, and he still isn't used to having only two fingers and a thumb on his right hand, but that's minor. He just can't seem to adjust to the fact that Kim's gone."

I nodded, thinking back to the night we fought Marrow Snap. "I don't know what I'd have done if Urioch hadn't made it."

We both sat there, in our own thoughts, for a few minutes. Amanda snapped her attention back to the present and looked at the flier on her desk. "You coming to the Moratorium Ceremony?"

"You mean the lifting of the cape ban?"

"Yep. They are going to award the right to wear capes to heroes who have distinguished themselves."

I nodded. "Yeah. Not that I'm going to be up for a cape any time this decade, but Urioch might some day. He was on the team that brought down Doctor Vahzalok."

"You and he seem to have the knack of being at the right place at the right time." Amanda smiled. "I'll see you at the Ceremony on Friday."

Urioch and I soared over the crowd assembled outside of City Hall. There were costumed heroes from the lawns to on top of the statue of Atlas. I'd never seen so many heroes in my life. "Can you see anyone we know?"

Urioch shook his head, scanning the crowd as we dipped lower. "No, not yet."

"It'll suck to stand around with a bunch of strangers." I looked about, hoping to see anyone I recognized. I saw a guy in red armor, standing nearly seven feet tall, with a small group of other flame oriented people. I pointed. "I bet that's Damage Control!"

Urioch paused, looking at them. "Yes. It appears they have a new member."

I looked back at the group and spotted a costume I recognized. "I'm going to say, hi." Urioch nodded as I flew off, pulling a discarded burger wrapper from the ground and wadding it up. With an amused, but accurate thought, I smacked Blaize up side the head with the wrapper. "Hey, Loser!"

Several heads looked up, but the only person I was interested in was Blaize. He grabbed the wrapper, spinning to see who'd hit him when he saw me floating above him. "Hey, Deadman!"

Laughing, I landed and held out my fist. He bumped it with his and we both chanted, "Unite!"

Blaize turned to the big armored guy. "Death, this is Infernotech, my mentor. Infernotech, this is Death's Head. He was the first of us to get his security clearance."

Inferno extended a large hand to me. "Blaize has said nothing but good things about you."

"Lies," I teased, "he never cried out my name more than twice." Blaize looked like he was going to choke, but Infernotech roared. I punched Blaize on the shoulder. "You're so easy."

"Uhm, Deathman..." He looked at Inferno and back at me. "He's gay."

"Yeah, I figured that one out when," I nodded at Backdraft, "I saw him sitting in Inferno's lap, talking to, " I nodded again, "those two at the club."

"Straight guys are outnumbered these days," Blaize grumbled. Then he grinned. "Of course, that means less competition for the ladies."

"I'm sorry I missed your partnership registration."

Blaize shrugged. "Not into the rice and flowers, and Inferno would looked like hell in the dress."

Inferno looked down at Blaize. "Not in a million years, punk."

"Yeah, yeah. You say that now."

"Don't make me take a socket wrench to that damaged brain of yours, Blaize."

I laughed. "I better get back into the air and find out where my pointy-eared freak has gone to."

Blaize gave me a quick hug and a smile. "Great to see you, bro."

"Email me!"

"Where? Hot-kept-ass@bondage-boys.com?"

"Fuck off, Flame Finger!" I took to the sky and shot Blaize a smile and the bird before hunting for Urioch. I found him hovering near the statue of Atlas, talking to several heroes in blue and white.

"Death's Head, this is Valkyra, leader of the Warriors of Valhalla. The other's are Valkyron, her co-leader and twin, Star Viking, Muspel, Blue Belle, Aruvendal, and Ms. Mercy. Warriors, this is Death's Head, my partner."

"You're the ones who took down Doctor Vahzalok!" I was a little awed.

Valkyron laughed. "Not all of us were available for the final assault. There were many others, but yes, we were involved."

Valkyra nodded toward the steps of City Hall. "They're about to start."

The Major stepped up the microphone, and started into a speech that sounded just like any other political speech. Lots of big words, calls to honor the sacrifices of the heroes before us, the purpose of the moratorium, and then, finally how they were going to handle the awarding of capes.

"Security Level Twenty?" I was horrified. "Who the hell is that rank?"

Valkyron grinned, Viking coughed, and all the warrior's eyes turned to Valkyra. Urioch leaned in. "There are many heroes beyond level twenty, Jason. You hear little about their exploits because they are generally striving to keep peace in the less populated, more dangerous zones like Boomtown or Dark Astoria. Valkyra is the first of the Warriors to achieve a level twenty clearance."

"Wow," I looked at Valkyra. She and her brother were even taller than Urioch. "What's it like?"

"More of the same," Valkyra replied, "Instead of Vahzalok, you deal with the Pantheon. Instead of Outcasts you face Freakshow. The stakes are higher and the heroes to back you up aren't as plentiful. Of course, in Astoria, you can't see the other heroes until you are practically on top of them. The land never see's sun and the fog never lifts."

"So why would anyone want to be there?"

"It is an ancient place, Death's Head. Mankind has lived, loved and died there for thousands of years. To some the place is holy. To others it is hell. No matter what your opinion of the place, in the end, it has power. Leaving it to be claimed by the likes of the Pantheon or Thorns would doom Paragon."

I looked at Urioch. "Please tell me we aren't assigned to do any patrols there."

"No, Death's Head. We will be patrolling Galaxy City, Atlas Park and King's Row for a while longer."

I threw the Reaper through a stack of crates while Urioch exchanged another volley of blasts with the Edilon boss. Flying up, I immobilized the Mortificator who was trying to reanimate another Cadaver, and covered Urioch's back. "I thought you took down Doctor Vahzalok!"

"We did, Jason." He blasted a Cadaver off the catwalk above us and oriented his attacks back on the Edilon. "The defeat of a criminal mastermind does not mean that the remaining villains in his organization will vanish."

I grabbed another Cadaver and sent it smashing against the steel struts of the warehouse roof. "And why do zombies need medical equipment?"

"The Vahzalok Cadavers and Abominations are not like the Husks and Chambers of the Banned Pantheon, Jason. The creatures the Pantheon and Thorns create are entities empowered by magic." We swooped over the catwalk, and he blasted past it at the fleeing Edilon. "The Vahzalok are not magical. They are creatures of medical science and madness. Where the Pantheon seeks to reclaim artifacts of power, the Vahzalok strive to obtain the medical equipment and materials to maintain themselves."

"A zombie's a zombie," I argued, smashing another one into the floor.

"That is a narrow minded view, Jason." Urioch finally blew the Edilon apart and we turned to follow the retreating Reapers. "It is untrue to say a healer is a healer. Your powers, Demonicalle's powers, and Magdalene's powers are all different in how they function and from what they are derived."

I grumbled, following him as he sped off to catch the remaining Vahz. "Yeah, their powers work."

Swooping into the lower confines of the warehouse offices, we closed on the Reapers. There was a sudden eruption of green from all sides. Urioch spun expanding his energy aura to vaporize the liquid before it hit him. I couldn't do anything but cover my face as the acid saturated my costume. I hit the ground, screaming. It felt like my skin was going to melt off. Urioch blew apart the Cadaver ambush, his energy scorching the walls and setting off the sprinklers as he tore them apart. I couldn't help. I couldn't even think. All I wanted was to get away from the burning, sizzling pain.

Urioch grabbed my costume and began peeling it off me. "We need to dilute the acid." I didn't even try to stop him as he got me out of the acid drenched material. The cloth may have been acid resistant, but I wasn't. I think he peeled a layer of skin off with the costumer. Holding me under sprinklers, Urioch tried to keep me focused on the present. "You need to heal yourself, Jason. The same as you did in the warehouse."

"I can't." The burning was diminishing, but the water against me felt like I was being sand blasted. How much of my skin had come off?

"Jason, look at me!" I snapped my eyes open, locking onto his as I trembled. "Heal yourself."

I tried to shake my head, but he held me fast. I couldn't. It would be too much. I'd lose it.

His eyes bore into me, flaring with power. Was I in that bad a shape? All I knew was that I hurt, inside and out. "Heal!"

Fucking bastard. He didn't have the right to make me do it. That didn't stop him. That didn't stop those eyes of his from burning away my resistance. The lock snapped open and the power erupted. I lost sight of him as the green-white light blinded me, but he was still holding me when my senses came back. On the floor, soaked in the spray of the fire system, I cried into his chest as he kept me from collapsing. I hurt. It wasn't a physical pain, but was an ache that throbbed between my heart and my spine.

"Relax, Jason." When had his voice turned so soft? "You are safe."

I curled up against him, shivering. What I felt, while miserably cold and exhausted on the warehouse floor, was loved. Maybe it wasn't the love I felt for him, but it was something. I looked at the discarded elastisteel costume as I recovered my senses. There was no way I was putting that thing on until we were sure it was acid free. One skin melting session was all I ever wanted. "I hate the fucking Vahz," I breathed, looking at the remains scattered about the room.

"I agree," Urioch sighed, pulling my chin lightly to look at me. "How do you feel?"

"Not as bad as I look I bet." My skin was pink, baby new where it had been melted off. I looked mottled where unmelted, original, tanned skin meshed with the new skin. I could feel that I still had hair under my arms, but the rest of my body was a crap shoot. I didn't even want to think about my head.

Urioch's fingers ran through the spotty, uneven remains of my hair and he smiled. "You will need a haircut."

"Great, and I was just getting it to where I liked it."

"Hair will grow back, Jason." His eyes met mine again. "As long as you are alive to do keep it growing."

I smiled. I wanted so much to kiss him. "I can't die. Someone has to keep your annoyance quotient up."

"You are not an annoyance." Damn him. Why wouldn't he look away. At least all the water running down my face disguised the fucking tears.

I looked away, eyeing my clothes again. "I need something to cover up. It'd be my luck to be arrested for indecent exposure right after saving the day." I stood up, a bit unsteadily, but I couldn't stay huddled against him any longer. It was beginning to feel too good.

"I will find something," Urioch replied, and began checking the offices. I flew to Freedom Corps, to have my costume neutralized, in a lab coat and a patient's smock. It was better than flying around nude.

"That was an insightful report, Jason, if a bit harsh."

I looked up to see Professor Duggan approaching the counter from the door while brushing off the snow clinging to him. I hadn't expected to see my sociology professor at the Cauldron. The place's patrons were mystics, dabblers in the paranormal and super heroes. Why the hell was he only wearing leather pants, boots and a leather vest? It was twenty degrees out and still snowing so hard you couldn't see across the street. "Hey, Professor Duggan. What are you doing here?"

He smiled, but Jonathan came over and stuck out his hands. They gripped each other's forearms in a way that seemed both personal and ceremonial. "Shaed, what are you doing out on a day like this?"

Shaed?

Professor Duggan smiled from Jonathan to me. "I'm taking a breather from protecting the shelters and soup kitchens in Kings Row."

It finally clicked. "You're a super hero?"

Jonathan laughed.

Professor Duggan sat down on the stool next to me. "Guilty. Can't you see the spandex?"

I looked him over again, shaking my head. "Lots of skin and leather, no spandex."

"Damn," he looked at Jonathan, "Pentacle, have you been changing my clothes on me again?"

Jonathan shook his head. "If I were, you'd be wearing more than you are." He walked back to the coffee machines. "What flavor?"

"Holiday Spice, it is Yule after all."

I sighed. "Just when I thought there were some normal people in my life."

"Normal is over rated," Professor Duggan laughed.

"How do you stay warm?" Okay, seeing my teacher in leather, with lots of hard, muscled flesh showing, was a bit distracting.

"The Goddess protects me from the elements," he replied as Jonathan set down his coffee.

"Uh huh," Jonathan observed, as he pressed his palm on Professor Duggan's arm, "that's why you're skin is cold enough to chill a cooler."

"I said she protected me," Professor Duggan retorted, wrapping his fingers around the mug, "I never said she made it comfortable."

"The Goddess is a harsh mistress," Jonathan agreed, and then eyed my mug, "more cocoa?"

"Sure."

"So," Professor Duggan asked while he sipped his coffee, "what do you call yourself when you aren't a struggling sociology student on the university campus?"

"Jason," I quipped, smiling at his momentary frown, "but when I'm flying around, kicking ass and leaving my name, it's Death's Head."

"When I'm doing the same, it's Shaed," he stuck out his hand, "pleasure to meet you Death's Head."

I laughed, shaking his hand, "Likewise, Shaed."

"I can't fly, so I generally run around, kick ass and leave my card."

"God. I'd hate to have to walk, run or ride on patrol."

Jonathan laughed. "Don't listen to his stories of walking woes, Jason. Shaed has his own methods of transit that don't require walking."

"You ruin all sympathy I can engender, Pentacle."

"What are soul-brothers for," Jonathan asked, causing Professor Duggan to roll his eyes.

I smiled. "That's so cool. I don't have any siblings."

"Don't even go there, Jason," the amused voice from the door made me grin, "we have the familial bonds of parole... you're stuck with me!"

I turned around, smiling as Janet took off her coat. "Hey, 'sis', how'd it go?" I didn't need to ask, I could feel her excitement from across the room.

Her smile could have lit a theater. "I got the internship!"

"Yes," I high fived her as I got off the stool, and then picked her up in a hug, "I knew you would."

"Congratulations, Janet," Jonathan smiled at us as I set her down, "Jason mentioned you were interviewing with Icon."

"Yeah, my mentor had done Serge a favor a while back, so she pulled a few strings and got me an interview."

"How's Lenny doing," I asked, sitting back down, "any luck?"

"No, damn it." Janet took the stool to my left. "I don't understand it. He's such a nice guy, even if the leaking darkness is a bit creepy."

Professor Duggan looked past me to Janet. "What's his name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Janet, this is... Shaed. Shaed, this is one of my parole program siblings, Impulse."

They shook hands.

"His hero name is Tar Patch. He's a great guy, with cool powers, but no one seems to want to take him on as a sidekick. He's been on the roster for a month."

"I've been looking for a personal slave," he grinned, "I mean sidekick."

Janet and I both laughed.

"Lenny can control darkness," I explained, "It's really weird, and unnerving, but he can do a lot of cool shit."

"Controllers are excellent when combined with more potent combatants." Jonathan smiled at me, "Like you and Urioch."

I grinned. "Except in his case, he's the brains and the muscle. I just add the angst and versatility."

"And a great ass in tights," Janet quipped.

"He has no use for that," I replied, wishing it wasn't true, "but he likes it when I hold all the bad guys still while he blasts them into submission."

"Here, here," Professor Duggan cheered, lifting his mug. "To team work, good friends, and the blessings we've been given during these dark times!"

Janet grinned, "I'll drink to that as soon as the barkeep gets me a chai latte. I'm freezing."

It was two days before Christmas, and I hadn't even decorated. I hadn't celebrated Christmas since the Rikti Invasion. I smiled at Janet after we'd clinked mugs and drank to Professor Duggan's toast. "What are you doing tonight?"

She shrugged. "Curling up in front of the TV."

"Want to help me find and decorate a tree? I feel like Christmas this year."

She smiled. "Okay, but don't argue with me over decorations. I've seen your choice in clothes... queer-eye you are not."

"Yes, Miss Designer, you can pick out the decorations. I just want a Christmas."

Swigging down her chai, Janet blurred off her chair and stood by the door with her coat on. "Then get off that tight ass of yours and get moving, Jason. We only have two days."

"Me and my big mouth," I groaned. I didn't mean a word of it. I realized I had a lot of blessings to be thankful for and only a few days to get caught up in the season. I had a lot of catching up to do.

Urioch looked at the four foot tree Janet and I had picked out while I finished wrapping the last present. There wasn't a lot of space, so we decided to maximize impact with style over size. It had taken two days of insane lines, angry people, and racing from place to place to find just the 'right' things. I blew my whole back pay deposit, and a hell of a lot more, on decorations and gifts, but I didn't care. I hadn't had so much fun in years.

The fashion this year was bright colors, LED programmable lights, and flash. Honestly, it looked like the Pink Posse had attacked the Christmas stores with a rainbow ray. I was so glad I had Janet there to cut through the flash and flicker and get back to classic style. Winter white and silver,. that was the theme she picked. I'd argued at first, mesmerized by the two thousand color stands of LED lights, but she wouldn't budge. The miniature Blue Spruce Pine looked perfect with the delicate white snowflakes, crystal icicles, silver balls and white tipped silver garland. Pure white lights were strung around the little thing, twinkling like stars. We even found a silver and white angel for the topper. We didn't have a fire place, so I tacked up the stockings to the book shelf. Janet bought silver fabric paint and wrote Jason on one, and Urioch on the other, in the most beautiful script. We even hung mistletoe in the entrance hall. No one was getting in without getting kissed. I'd argued against it, but Janet thought it was a great excuse for me to get my lips on anyone.

"The tree is remarkably elegant, Jason."

I smiled. "I can't claim the credit. If it had been up to me, the thing would have looked like a kaleidoscope."

"He has no fashion sense at all," Janet complained as she came back in with our hot, mulled ciders.

"So sue me. I already wrote the report on gay culture, and the whole 'gay fashion sense' thing is a myth. There is a big difference between being flamboyant and having taste."

"Then I congratulate you for recognizing your limitations and upon selecting such a skilled guide." He took his mug.

"Haven't you celebrated Christmas before?" Janet sipped her cider while looking at her work with satisfaction.

"No. I am not Christian." Urioch sipped his cider.

"What do you believe in?"

I finished taping the present and stopped to listen to Urioch's answer. I'd never even thought about asking about his beliefs.

"I have not come to a firm conclusion, yet. I believe there is a greater will, or force, that empowers the universe. It is evident through the demonstrated abilities of people like Magdalene, Pentacle and Scythropos. They all claim their powers are derived from communion with a higher power, though they do not agree upon what that power actually is. I think, like ourselves, the Universal Will is diverse and can express itself in unlimited ways. Therefore, no single religion holds the monopoly on truth. My reading has lead me to believe that all true faiths have the same fundamental truths." He smiled at the tree. "I am glad, however, that Jason has chosen to participate in his faith again."

I grinned. "You like it because it gives you a break from me on Sundays."

"Oh," Janet looked at her watch, "are we still going to Midnight Mass?"

"Yeah," I said, floating the last present under the tree. "I have a couple angels to give thanks to."

Awakenings - Chapter 09

2009-10-10T03:54:35Z

"How are you feeling?" Demonicalle plopped down beside me as I looked out over the city. It was kind of ironic that I was sitting in the cleavage of a stone statue of Galaxy Girl. It was the closest I ever wanted to get to a woman's breasts.

"A bit lost," I mumbled.

"Lost? You bring down a superadyne lab, are confirmed as an empathic healer, and you've been granted level one security clearance; and you're feeling lost?"

"Just a bit," I sighed, laying back. At least big stone boobs were comfortable to lie on. "Not to mention, we'll probably get fined for being up on a public statue like this."

"They'll get over it," she laughed, "Heroes perch on the statues more often than pigeons."

Demonicalle looked at me, tilting her head as an ironic smile curled her lips. "So, are you going to tell him?"

I blinked out of my moment and looked at her. "Tell who, what?"

"Tell Urioch you're in love with him?"

I swallowed. I was pretty sure Magdalene knew. I knew Amanda knew. I hadn't thought it was so fucking obvious. "What makes you think that?"

She shrugged. "Well, you're as queer as a three dollar bill. According to Doctor Perrin, most empathic healers first unleash their powers when faced with losing a loved one. Add two plus two, and usually you get four."

I sighed, tucking the costume back in the box. "So I'm in love with my roommate. It doesn't do me any good."

"Why? Urioch's an alien. Anyone he'd fuck would be cross species anyway."

"I'm not going there, Calle. What if he isn't interested? I'd ruin the friendship."

Demonicalle stretched her legs. "Okay, are you going to tell him you're gay?" She flashed me a fanged grin. "No pressure, I just need to know how many layers of secrets I'm keeping, y'know?"

"Probably… when I'm ready." I shrugged. "I'm not likely to bring anyone home, but that'd be a bad time to bring up the subject." I stood up. "Thanks for checking on me, Calle. I'm okay."

Demonicalle stood up. "Oh, that's not all I'm here for."

"What else?"

"Since the muscle-bound elf is laid up for another couple days of tests and observation, and your team mates haven't gotten their clearance yet, Brawler told me to take you out, teach you how to have fun, and not let you come back until you've had some." Her grin was anything but innocent.

"We're going whoring?"

She laughed. "Not exactly. We're going clubbing. It's about time you learned that Capes know how to party too."

I groaned. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope, you're my date for the night. I promised I'd have you home safe and sound by dawn."

"You're saying there are super hero clubs?"

Nodding, she looked at her watch. "I'll pick you up at eight. Nothing worth doing starts before nine."

"Where are we going?"

"Pocket D, it's the best club that doesn't go into the extreme scene."

I snorted, taking to the air. "I get the safe club, huh?"

She shook her head, calling up at me as I headed home. "I wouldn't call it safe. Having a hot item like you with me, I'm certain it won't be."

Demonicalle smiled at me as walked from the King's Row tram station. Stopping in an alley, behind a non-descript delivery truck, she looked over my clothes again. "You'll have no problem attracting attention, hot stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "It only took an extra hour to get ready, Demonicalle. I wasn't sure you'd ever agree with the clothes."

"This is your coming out party, Jason. The look is just as important as the attitude. Wall flower won't work." She reached the roll-back handle. "Pay attention to which way we come in, Jason. The club is a little 'weird' and if you leave from the wrong exit, you may show up someplace you really don't want to be."

"The club is in the back of a truck?"

"The truck is just a portal," Demonicalle explained as she rolled the back up.

"This is kind of like the Cauldron, huh?"

Demonicalle laughed. "In the same way a fun house is to an Adventure Park!" Taking my hand before I could think of a good excuse, she hefted me into the truck. "Come on, Jason. Time to live a little."

It looked and felt like a truck, at least until the cargo door rolled shut. Then, like the flick of a light switch, we were standing in a hall. The place reminded me of a huge warehouse, but the pounding beat in the distance made it clear we weren't in one of those. "This is so much bigger than the outside!"

"We aren't actually in the truck; that was just a portal. No one really knows exactly Pocket D is. The doors move every so often to keep the place secure."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble for a hero club," I grumbled as we got closer to the music. We hadn't even seen anyone yet.

"When you're on your down time, kicking back, getting a little blitzed, the last thing any of us needs is an attack. Could you imagine someone like Urioch trying to fight while drunk?"

"Urioch wouldn't get drunk," I retorted.

"Don't be so sure, Jason." Demonicalle grinned, looked beyond me, and then pushed me against the wall. "Careful."

A guy blew past us, slowing just in time to keep from smashing into the far wall. "Sorry!"

"Hey!" Demonicalle yelled at the wobbling hoverer. "No flying under the influence! Call for an escort!"

"I'm fine, Horny." He looked over Demonicalle's rather exposed figure and grinned. "I can still fly you where you'd want to go." He smelled like a beer keg.

"Buzz off," I answered, wrapping my arm around her waist. Okay, girls didn't do anything for me, but somewhere inside there was an alpha-male chomping at the bit. "She doesn't need a guy who has to loosen up in order to get it up."

He puffed up like a steroid junky and floated higher. "Say that to my face, pretty boy."

Floating up to meet him, I looked him in the face. "Buzz. Off."

"Boys," Demonicalle laughed, leaning against the wall, "as enjoyable as it is to watch testosterone fly, I'll make up my own mind." Blowing me a kiss, she pushed from the wall and turned on her heel. "Come on, hot stuff. We have a party to get to."

I huffed at the blow hard and landed beside Demonicalle. Her hand slid back to grip my ass. I did my best not to squeak. "Sorry about that."

"Actually, it was cute." We got around the corner and suddenly the room opened up to a huge space. We were on the upper level, where there were pool tables, games, lounges, a bar or two, and then below there were some dance areas separated by more seating and lounging areas. There were suspended dance areas with no way to get to them, unless you could fly, pounding music, light displays, and dozens of people having a great time. Demonicalle smiled. "Jason, welcome to Pocket D."

"Damn," I breathed, watching as a woman wearing nothing but flames danced in the air with a guy who looked like he was made of smoke. I turned around, trying to take it all in. As we got to the bar, my attention was riveted on a hot, shirtless guy with brown hair, goatee, glowing green eyes, a chest to die for, pierced nipples, and bull horns. He must have stood seven feet tall. He was laughing as two of the swishiest examples of gaydom I'd ever seen were trying to convince him to let them determine if he was a bull in more ways than horns. I nodded at one of the worshippers. "Is that guy's hair really neon pink?"

Demonicalle cringed. "Don't go there, Jason. Whatever you do, please, just stay the way you are." She looked at the guy with pink hair and the other one with plum, and shook her head. "They're members of the Pink Posse. Even superheroes have their outspoken subgroups. They're the 'pride' members of Paragon's superhero community."

"Is the big guy a member too?"

"Taurus?" Demonicalle laughed. "No, though he'll fuck anyone willing to try him out. Male, female, human, or not."

I nodded at a couple of guys sitting in one of the lounges. One was a huge, lumberjack looking guy in a partially unbuttoned, plaid shirt with the smaller guy sitting between his legs, his head back on the big guy's shoulder with his eyes closed while they chatted with another guy and a woman. "Who are they?"

Demonicalle narrowed her eyes and scrutinized the group. "That’s Damage Control. They're a privately funded group working for Crey and under contract with Paragon. They all have fire powers and work mostly as paranormal fire fighters. The big guy is Infernotech, and the smaller one comfortably seated in his lap is Backdraft. They're talking with Heart of Flame, the red head you wouldn't be interested in, and Immolation, a reformed FireThorn."

Straight couples, gay couples, lesbian couples, humans and non-humans were everywhere. Out, about, and unabashed, everyone seemed to just be who they were without apologies. "That is so cool."

Demonicalle tapped my shoulder, and I turned to the bar. "Put your hand on the scanner, Jase."

I frowned at her, but did as I was told. The computer beeped. The bartender came over and eyed me. "You're under age, kid."

"He's a newbie, Stan. Death's Head was just promoted by Brawler."

Stan smiled. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"You're still going to be dry while here, full security clearance or not."

"You're such a rules monger, Stan." Demonicalle shook her head. "I want a chocolate martini."

Stan nodded, and looked at me. "You?"

"Uhm, virgin pina colada?"

"You got it."

Demonicalle smiled at me. "Don't worry, Jason. Not all the bartenders are so prudish."

"I don't want to drink, Calle. The buzz in this place is distracting enough." I looked around at the people cutting loose, having personal moments, and generally having a good time. "I'm an empath, remember? I'm not so sure I won't get drunk by association."

Demonicalle laughed. "As long as you get to keep the hangover, I'll be happy to do your drinking for you."

I frowned at her. "Thanks a lot, Calle."

"My pleasure," she teased, taking her drink as Stan set it on the bar. I took my own drink and sipped it while I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to shadow Calle all night? Was I supposed to strike out on my own? Did I want to meet someone? I was lost in my thoughts when Demonicalle squealed. "Night Ass! What are you doing here?"

The guy who had just hefted Demonicalle up, and had his hands gripping her ass in ways that only someone who'd been there before could do, was just drop dead gorgeous. Black hair, strong jaw, wide shoulders, and muscles everywhere in just the right proportions to stand out in the tight, black t-back he was wearing. He even had a heroic smile. "Looking for someone hot and bothered to spend some time with."

Demonicalle slid out of his grip and turned to me. "Night Marauder, meet Death's Head. Death's Head, this is the guy with the best ass in Muse." I knew Muse was a group Demonicalle had been a member of for a while.

Marauder laughed, putting out his hand as he shook his head. "I swear she was a gay man in a past life. She is the most ass obsessed woman I've ever met."

"I wouldn't know," I mumbled, shaking his hand. Had he caught me staring? Had I really been staring?

"Yeah, right," Demonicalle snorted, sliding her hand back and getting a firm grip on one of my cheeks. "NM, if Death was in Muse, you'd have a run for your money in the ass department."

"Oh really?" Marauder's eyes lit up with the challenge. "Do tell."

"I am not going to do an ass comparison, Calle. Don't even think about it." I slid out of her grip and grabbed my drink. "My ass isn't up for grabs." The last thing I wanted to do was stand around while Calle scored the hottest, human looking guy in the place. "I'm going to mingle."

"Later, hot stuff," Demonicalle called, as she turned her attention back to Night Marauder.

I wandered down to the main floor. The place was huge. I wasn't sure how long I moved quietly from bar to bar, switching to water after I'd finished my first drink, and watched as more heroes arrived and enjoyed themselves. I didn't have gaydar. I never had. The fact that I kept to the shadows, watching instead of participating, probably contributed to my feeling out of place. Everyone else seemed so confident and sure of themselves. At one point, I caught sight of Demonicalle shaking it on the dance floor. I gave her credit; the girl could move. I leaned against one of the columns and watched as she danced with partner after partner without breaks. I wished I could be that free.

"She's pretty amazing."

I looked behind me to find Marauder standing only a foot or two away, sipping at his something on ice. Looking back at Demonicalle, I nodded. "Yeah, she's cool."

Marauder stepped closer, practically against my back, as he watched her. "Why aren't you out there? Demonicalle said you're here to party."

"Haven't found a partner," I replied, realizing I could feel his heat through my shirt. I closed my eyes and just let it wash over me. What was it I was feeling? Curiosity? Interest?

He smelled so good as he leaned in close to my ear, inhaling deeply. "Calle's right. You have a great ass." I swallowed. What was he doing, getting my scent? "Want to dance?"

I didn't remember saying yes, but we ended up on the dance floor, grinding away while my brain just went into automatic. I wasn't sure what it was, maybe it was his sexual confidence, or just the fact he was interested, but as his desire grew, so did mine, and not just by the fact that I could feel a thick piece of desire brushing against me as we danced.

Marauder had me pressed against one of the back pillars, chewing at my neck, when I realized his shirt was pushed up to his pecs and my hands had been exploring every inch of his heroic proportions. "Fuck," I gasped as he tweaked one of my nipples through my shirt.

"That's an idea," he chuckled huskily into my neck. I shivered, and he slowed down, pulled his lips from my neck to look at me. "You've been with a guy before, right?"

I nodded. My tongue was three sizes too big for my mouth. I couldn't even form words.

"Good," he grunted, pressing back in so that he could get to my mouth, "I don't like being anyone's first."

I moaned as he kissed me. My brain was melting, or at least was oxygen deprived. Most of the blood in my body had descended below my belt. Brian never kissed me, not once. Two years being his butt boy, and I hadn't even gotten a kiss. "I'm supposed to go home with Calle," I mumbled as he pulled back from the kiss.

"Want to stop?" I shook my head. Stopping was the furthest thing from my mind. He nodded toward the back corner. "Come on."

I followed him, confused by what was happening, and stepped into a back room before he locked the door. The room wasn't very big, had a sink, and a toilet, and what looked like a bed.

"Gotta love Pocket… sound proof, fire proof, fairly damage resistant… everything a paranormal pairing would need," he commented as he peeled off his shirt, tossing it at the sink as I got an eyeful of tanned, taut, smooth flesh.

I turned about, a bit disoriented, and was suddenly aware that the sounds of the club were almost gone. I finished my slow spin and my eyes returned to his perfect, exposed torso. God. I wanted to chew on those nipples. He must have read my mind.

"Go ahead, kid. Enjoy yourself."

I feasted like I'd been starved. Maybe, in a way, I had been. I chewed, rubbed, touched, tasted, licked and kissed everyplace I could get to, lost in the euphoria of hot, sweaty flesh. I had a few moments of lucidity as I sank to my knees while he unsnapped his jeans. He hadn't been wearing any underwear, and his musk was like a drug. I stared at him, and the long, hard, veined mast that he pulled out, and was drawn in like a moth to a flame. He moaned as I started tasting him, and his fingers ran encouragingly through my hair. "Yeah. That's it."

I lost track of time as I strove to get more and more of him in me. At some point his fingers had stopped caressing my hair and were digging into my skull as he thrust and grunted out how good it was. I wasn't listening to the words. I was riding his emotions, following where they led, getting closer and closer to the edge as he moaned and sighed his way to a leg shaking, body wracking release. All I could do was swallow or gag. I swallowed.

Marauder pulled me off my knees, kissing me, exploring the tangy taste of my mouth as his hands slid inside the back of my pants. He wasn't going to stop. He wanted me. "Fuck, Demonicalle," he whispered into my ear as his hands kneaded my ass. "Let's make this an all nighter."

I flinched as he brushed my hole. That jolted me out of my sexual frenzy. The ass kneading had been great, but I didn't want that. Not yet. I felt him pull back. I shuddered. "I can't."

Slowly, carefully, he pulled his hands out of my pants and held my hips as he looked at me. I didn't know what he saw, but he tapped down his lust like a lion tamer would make a great cat go back in its cage. He was still hornier than hell, but he wasn't going to go anywhere I wasn't ready to go. "Okay, kid."

A part of me wanted to, just because he was willing to stop. It made him a hero to me. "Sorry."

He kissed me, causing my knees to go weak. Pulling back, he let me go and reached for his shirt. "Don't apologize, kid. It was great." He nodded at my waist. "You might want to clean up before we head back out."

I hadn't even realized I'd flooded my pants. "Damn." I think I turned five shades of red.

Marauder waited while I did my best to get clean, smiling at my embarrassment. Before he opened the door, he slid his hand behind my neck and pulled me into a last kiss. "Don't be embarrassed, kid. I think it's cool you can get off just giving a blow."

I think I was red all the way to my toes.

We made it back to the lounge and Marauder got me another drink while I sank onto the couch. Suddenly I was tired. Handing me a diet coke, he dropped down beside me, his arm across the back of the couch, and he looked about. "It looks like another wave has arrived."

I nodded, sipping at my coke. The place did seem busier than before we'd slipped into the back. I just sat there, watching, feeling comfortably sated and a little sleepy. It was about a half hour of sitting there, talking about nothing important, when I noticed that Marauder's attention was returning more frequently to the dance floor. I followed his gaze. There was a woman with long blond hair, model body, eyes that were best described as smoky, moving slowly to the tribal beat that was pounding from the speakers. Marauder's libido was coming back out of the cage, and it was hungry. Their eyes met, and I knew he'd found someone to make it an "all nighter."

Marauder stood up, looking at me for a moment. I wasn't changing my mind. He shrugged and leaned down. "You know how it is, kid. Any hole in a storm"

It felt like he'd just kicked me in the gut. I looked away. "Yeah… I know how it is." I watched him work his way around the floor and slide into sync with the smoky blonde. I really didn't feel like watching the foreplay. I'd just been the appetizer. Leaving my drink on the table, I found Demonicalle upstairs, playing pool. I waited until the eight ball disappeared, and then touched her arm. "I'm heading home."

Demonicalle looked up at one of the clocks. "It's only one, Jason."

I shrugged. "I'm used to school hours, Calle. You don't have to come. I can fly back to the tram without an escort."

"Fuck that," she snapped, putting her pool cue away. "Let's go."

The ride back was quiet. I really wasn't in the mood to talk. I just wanted to go wash. I think I wanted to go puke. As we got off the tram, I looked across the street at Cygnus Medical. "I'm going to check on Urioch."

"Jason, are you okay?"

I smiled. "Yeah, just too much fun for one night." I forced a smile. "Thanks for my 'coming out' party, Calle."

"We'll have to do it again when your whole crew is cleared."

I nodded. "That's a promise."

Demonicalle kissed me on the cheek and looked up for the next tram. "I think you can cross the street without my help."

I leaned against the wall, near the window, and listened to the heart monitors and neuro-scanners beep and chirp quietly as Urioch slept. His heart beat was so different from mine. Of course, he had six chambers in his heart, where a human had four. His injuries weren't as pronounced as they'd been a few days ago. I hadn't been able to reproduce the healing effect I'd done back at the warehouse. At least not for the doctors. Amanda said that was normal. I moved beside the bed and stroked his bruised cheek. I wanted him home.

I closed my eyes and tried to find that place behind my heart where the power had come from. He was still alive. He hadn't been taken away. "Thank you," I whispered, knowing God would listen if he felt like it. A tear slip down my cheek as I reached inside and opened the lock. It didn't hurt like it had before. This time I knew what it was. Opening my eyes, I watched the faint green-white radiance flow down my fingers and spread as it reached his cheek. My cheek began to ache, but as I watched, the bruise on his faded. I let the light fill the space between us, all the time wishing I'd been at the club with him. With Urioch, I never felt like a hole.

I smiled as Urioch lay on the couch, reading the Fabio covered romance I'd laughed at. The doctors had been amazed at his recovery. I supposed I was too, but it wasn't a mystery to me. I was just glad he was home. "What do you want for lunch?"

Urioch looked up from his book. "Anything fresh. They do not know the meaning of the word in the hospital."

I laughed. "Salad it is."

I was getting out the grape tomatoes and chopped onions as Urioch came into the kitchen, setting a brown paper wrapped box on the table. "I talked with Brawler this week"

"Yeah?" Popping open the container, I tossed a handful of tomatoes onto the salad.

"I have asked to become your partner."

"What?" I spilled the onions all over the counter. Partner? There were so many meanings to that word. My heart was in my throat.

Stepping in, Urioch helped me try to clean up the mess. It really wasn't necessary. Once my brain started working again, I just grabbed all the spilled shit with my thoughts and dumped it in the disposal. "If Brawler were to sanction it, would you consider me to be your mentor?"

I looked back at him. He was serious. I looked at the floor. Would I "consider" him? Hell yeah, I would. The problem was that there was still a little issue we hadn't covered. Taking a breath, and let it out slowly. "Before I answer that, there's something you should know." I looked up, knowing I had to be looking at him when I said it. "I'm gay."

Urioch looked at me, a blank expression on his face. All I could feel from him was a mild sense of confusion. "How would your gender preference influence your answer to my question?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, or be embarrassed by what people would think of you having a gay sidekick."

"I am not concerned with other's opinions, Jason. I am only interested in yours."

I stared at him, trying to get any read at all. I couldn't even get a blip. I looked away for a moment, trying to figure out if I was relieved or let down. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather partner with." If only he knew in how many ways I meant that. Could I really live and work with him and not fuck it all up?

"Then I will convince Brawler to sanction my application."

I had to pull my gaze from his; I could just fall into the depth of his eyes, and I couldn't trust myself if I did. I shifted my attention to the package on the table. "What's that?"

"Something to start your career with, and a thank you," he replied.

I ran my fingers over the paper for a few moments before I ripped off the paper, and saw the Icon logo on the box. I pulled off the lid, and saw an envelope resting on carefully folded grey cloth. I picked up the envelope and pulled out a simple card which read.

"Dear Jason. Congratulations upon earning your security clearance. In order to help fulfill my promise, I had this made for you. No hero can succeed alone. Your friend, Urioch."

I grinned, blinking back a few tears as I pulled out the costume. It was the design Janet helped me come up with when we were fucking around with ideas. I never thought I'd actually be able to afford it; at least not from a place like Icon. I'd expected to live with spandex. "Is this elastisteel? That shit is supposed to be bullet proof!"

Urioch nodded. "It provides thermal protection, electrical insulation, and impact resistance." I learned later that he was quoting the informational packet that was under the costume. "The cloth is puncture resistant, resistant to abrasions, cuts and most acids."

I just held it in my hands, as close as I could bring it to me without clutching it to my chest, and stared at the cloth. Why the fuck did I always have to cry? I wiped my cheeks with the back of my fist before braving to look back at him. "I guess you don't want me to die any time soon."

I felt a blip then, but only a blip. His expression revealed nothing. "I have lost too many friends already. I would prefer to keep my remaining friends alive; when possible."

I wanted to give him a hug, but just forced as sincere a smile as I could muster. "Well then I'll just have to stay alive for a while." I shrugged, embarrassed with myself. "I can't keep my part of the bargain on the whole potential thing if I were to get myself killed."

"No, you could not," Urioch agreed.

I'd been through the "sidekick orientation" during the parole program. I knew that a mentor-sidekick partnership had to be made official, sanctioned and registered by Freedom Corps. Still, standing in Freedom Plaza, registering as Urioch's sidekick, it seemed surreal to me. Vows and oaths. They might as well have asked me to love, honor and obey. Hell, love was the only thing that wasn't mentioned in the oaths. Impulse, Tar Patch, Hon'Dah, Blaize, Onyx, Demonicalle, Brawler, Lady Magdalene, Mrs. Patterson, and Amanda witnessed the "union". At least I was in a nearly indestructible costume, and not a dress.

Demonicalle laughed as she gave me a hug. "At least you'll have something worth looking at after twelve hours of patrolling and stake-outs."

I frowned at her. "I think even Urioch will become an eyesore when I'm sleep deprived, Calle."

She rolled her eyes at Brawler. "At least you don't have to look at his ugly mug every day for about a year."

"I don't remember hearing you complain," Brawler growled, smiling at her. He extended his hand to me, and I took it. "Congratulations, Jason."

"Thanks."

I let go as he looked over me at Urioch. "You have your hands full, Urioch. I'm still not sure he's house broken yet."

I shot Brawler an evil look, but Urioch put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I can attest to the fact that Jason is well versed in the proper standards of personal hygiene."

"That's a big help," I grumbled, moving around to let Impulse hug me. Janet was nearly vibrating with excitement.

"I'm so jealous I could spit." She let me go, laughing. "You get an Icon costume, security clearance and a mentor before the rest of us finish parole."

"I'm sure you're turn is coming, Impulse. I've just been nearly dead more often than the rest of you."

Onyx snorted. "That, I hope, won't become a habit."

"You and me both," I smiled. Onyx and I never really clicked, but she was cool.

Blaize gave me a disgusted look. "Man, I feel like I should be throwing rice!"

"Don't go there, Blaize." I raised a warning finger and eyed him threateningly.

He put up his hands in mock fear. "Don't act all queer-queen on me, bro. If you start Z-ing I'm going to have to hurt you."

I laughed. "Not in this, or my next, life time."

"Good. I'd hate to see you end up in the Pink." He shuddered. After I'd seen a few Posse members at the club, I'd looked them up in the Super Hero Group registry. I'd printed out the stuff, along with information on a dozen other groups, and brought it to the dinner the guys had for me the other night. I came out, and then warned them if they gave me any grief I'd sick the Posse on them. Blaize didn't stop laughing for a full ten minutes.

"Give up black and white for rainbow colors?" I tried to imagine myself in a deep purple outfit with my hair tinted lavender and the skull on my chest blended in reflective rainbow hues. It was just all wrong. "I'll pass, thanks."

Lenny grinned. "Where's your pride?"

I looked down, noting that in addition to hugging my ass, Janet's design put my 'pride' on display pretty well. "If you've missed it at this point, Len, you need to get your eyes checked."

"Ewwww... text only mode, text only mode!" Lenny clawed at his face before pulling me into a hug. "It won't be the same doing CS without you."

"I'll keep in touch." God. I felt like I was leaving home. "Losers Unite, right?"

Blaize put out his fist, and everyone bumped our fists calling out, "Losers Unite!" We laughed, before I realized I needed to go before I started crying.

"I think we've got patrol, or something." I shook hands or hugged my way out of the Freedom Corps building with Urioch. I stopped to look out at the plaza. A few people were wandering by, tourists, and a couple pointed us out to their children. I nodded at them. "They're looking at us."

Urioch looked at the kids, who were staring across the plaza at us. He smiled. "Let us take off slowly, Death's Head. Give the children something to remember."

Contrary to what Jawbreaker had told his minions back in the alley, not all Capes could fly. Of my parole program team, Battlement and I were the only ones who could. Urioch extended his arms out to his sides, energy flaring from his hands, and he ascended in a slow, graceful arc over the dome. I followed just behind and to the right, not sure if I should make a move like Superman did in the movies, or just fly like I normally did. Urioch's was the showier power. Not to mention, he looked every inch the hero in his liquid armor. I just flew up behind, arms out just a little, fists clenched, and hoped I looked half as heroic as he did. I barely heard the excited wows rise up from the kids, and I smiled at the thought they'd be recounting my first flight as a hero to all their friends back home.

Awakenings - Chapter 08

2009-10-02T22:59:27Z

I sat in Kevin's office, waiting for my appointment with Mrs. Patterson. She was the only person I knew who was more anal about appointment times than Amanda. It was half past ten and she hadn't opened the door demanding to know where I was. Of course, I'd never actually been in her office before. I'd always come to Kevin's, which was the gateway to hers, and then was directed to a conference room. Kevin wasn't there. What was there was a phone that didn't stop ringing more than a minute or two at a time and a million post-it notes stuck on Patterson's door. The whole place seemed to be in overdrive. Another office worker scurried in, looked at Kevin's empty desk in a panic, found a post-it, scribbled something and put it up on Patterson's door before dashing off with an armload of papers from the desk.

Curiosity pulled me from the chair and I started reading the notes. Most were requests to return calls, but there were a couple that looked important. I stopped at one half buried note. "Kevin, auto accident, Chiron medical, Room 417." I wondered if Patterson even knew he wasn't there. I could hear her, talking emphatically and clicking at her computer. I knocked before pushing open the door.

Covering the mouth piece of her phone, Patterson issued me directions. "Kevin, just put the reports on the desk, anywhere." She didn't even look up.

"Uhm, Kevin isn't here."

Patterson looked up at me, blinking. "Jason, your appointment was rescheduled. Didn't Kevin call you?"

I pulled the note from her door. "Kevin isn't here. Really." Handing her the note, I looked around the office. I'd never actually been beyond Kevin's office into hers. There were photos of heroes everywhere. Some were action shots, some were candid, and some were of them out of costume with friends or family; hundreds of photos, each grouped by subject. Patterson's attention was pulled back her argument on the phone, so I just wandered the walls. I stopped at the photos of Urioch. There were four. One was a magazine clipping, one was a typical head shot, one was a shot of him with a hero team in action, and the last was him with several other heroes, kicked back and relaxing out of costume. I recognized Magdalene and SM in the shot. Further along, I found a couple photos of me. One was a picture from high school, and the other was the mug shot taken of me when I entered the parole program. Neither were particularly good photos. I certainly didn't look very happy in them. I continued around the wall until I got to the back. The area seemed sectioned off, though there was no formal designation for the change. Inside the space were photos and clippings. The clippings were obituaries. I stepped back and looked at the wall. There were dozens of obituaries, dead heroes, on that wall.

"I don't want to see you there, Jason. Do me the favor of living longer than I do." I turned around as she up the phone. "As Kevin isn't here, I will need to get the paperwork distributed myself. I will note that you made your appointment, Jason. You can go."

From the urgency of everything going on in the department, I knew shit had hit the fan. "What's going on?"

"Too many crises, too few of me," she grumbled, pulling out files. "I have an idiot doctor wanting to do surgery on a hero who's skin is the only thing containing a thermal nuclear reaction. Four heroes with Vahzalok disease and the vaccine isn't ready. This morning a drug bust went wrong and there are nearly a dozen heroes in the ER with special medical needs."

"Can I do anything to help?"

Patterson looked at me. "There are hundreds of experienced heroes out there, Jason. Just go home."

I frowned. "I meant help here, you bossy old bitch."

Patterson stopped, glared at me, and then huffed. "There should be a stack of special need reports on Kevin's desk; I need to get them over to Chiron Medical. I have the situation report on the heroes in my care who were in the drug bust; I need to get that report to Brawler over in Galaxy."

"I can do both of those. I can get the files to Chiron and then head over to Galaxy." I followed her out as she hunted for the reports on Kevin's desk. "Can I fly?"

Patterson handed me the box of files and tossed the report for Brawler on top. "Teleport for all I care. Yes, yes. Power use restriction is lifted while you're doing department business. Get out of here."

I grabbed the box and backed out of the office, shooting Patterson a triumphant smile. "Get yourself some more coffee, you're going soft you old crone!"

"Jason!"

I left at a run.

Getting the paperwork into the ER was a fucking pain. I, of course, wasn't an actual department member so I had no clearance. Then when they finally got a hold of Patterson, and she reamed them four new holes for delaying me, I got my clearance and got in. Flying made the deliveries a hell of a lot easier. I got from the Tram to Freedom Plaza in less than a minute. Brawler was no where to be seen. Stopping by one of the corps trainers, I asked, "Where can I find Brawler? I have to deliver him some reports from Patterson about the drug bust."

"I'm not sure, give me a moment." She tapped her headset and called in for information. Talk about a confused fiasco. Patterson's department wasn't the only place in an uproar today "He's on site, in Constellation Row." She pulled out a call box. "Set it for channel 239 and hit track. Brawler's team signal is on that frequency."

"Thanks." I took the box and launched. At least Constellation Row was in Galaxy.

I soared over the warehouses, following the signal, until I got to what looked like a war zone. Cops were ringed around the manufacturing plant trying to contain the chaos. Inside the grounds there were more than a few heroes flying about, blasting away at Clockwork. I'd only seen Clockwork in real life once, while in the Skulls, and they creeped me out almost as much as the Vahz. Living, thinking, mechanical robots with a drive to propagate themselves, only the undead were more unnerving. When you broke the bigger ones apart, their components would come to life independently and keep fighting.

I swooped over the roof toward Brawler's signal. As I got to the back lot, I spotted him. Someone his size was hard to miss. He was taller than Urioch and at least three times as wide. The thing he was going toe to toe with was even bigger. They called those things Assembler Princes. Huge, lumbering, lightning tossing, wall smashing metal monsters were what they were. Fortunately, the prince looked a lot worse for wear than Brawler did. With a roar, Brawler punched fist right through the thing's chest cavity, hefted it up and slammed it to the ground. If it had been on TV it would made a great wrestling move.

I was about to land when the robot's components began separating, morphing into smaller, vicious little robots that began unleashing blasts of electricity at Brawler. Watching him try to take them down was like watching a gorilla trying to swat ants. They would tear him apart inch by inch. I landed, waving, and grabbing the area with my thoughts. It was easy to let Brawler slide through my hold as I lifted anything lighter than two hundred pounds into the air. The little menaces floated, sparking and arcing with electricity, but were basically ineffectual as I held them.

"I hate God-damn Gears!" Brawler smashed, swatted, squashed and raged his way through the little things as I held them immobile. After about five minutes, he had all of them disabled. He turned, glaring at me. "What the fuck are you doing here, Death's Head. You don't have security clearance."

I held up the envelope from Patterson. "I'm just a delivery boy, really. I'm not breaking parole."

Snatching the envelope, he ripped it open and looked over the report. "Fucking bastards," he snarled, crushing the report.

"What happened?"

He glared at me. "Bad information happened, kid. The whole thing was a setup. The few skulls we did arrest had TEEP pills at the ready. They're so drugged up at this point that it will be days before the telepaths can get anything from them. By then, the Bone Daddies will have moved the whole fucking operation." Pulling open the sheets, he read off some of it in disgust. "The only cognoscente information we received was from one of the lieutenants. Before the TEEP took full effect he chided us, saying that we had to 'know the past to see the future'." Wadding up the paperwork and throwing it into the smoldering heap that had once been the Assembler Prince, he snarled, "What the hell does that mean?"

Like I knew? "Sounds like something Urioch would say."

Brawler spit. "Great. Now I have street gang, drug dealers reciting alien riddles." He eyed me, noting I hadn't left yet. "You delivered your message, Death's Head. Get out of the combat zone."

I took to the air, puzzling what the skull had said while I flew back to the Tram. Killer said something like that once. He used it as a code to let us know when we were to return to an old base. I stopped, hovering above the tram station. "An old base..." It couldn't have been that simple. I landed at the Tram and hopped the line over to King's Row. There was a warehouse, up in the North East corner of Kings Row, where the Capes had busted up one of the biggest Superadyne labs the Skulls had. The failed bust was supposed to have been even bigger. I landed in the water towers near the warehouse and waited. It was still daylight and it was impossible to get close without being seen. Trying to get as comfortable as possible while sitting up on a water tower in the October rain, I waited for dark.

The warehouse looked deserted, but that didn't mean anything. The Skulls weren't all bone heads. They knew how to keep a place looking vacant while pumping out a million dollars of drugs a day. You just had to know what to look for. I soared across the street, hoping the rain and darkness would cover me, and hovered near the roof line. There had to be an open or broken window somewhere. It took me about a quarter hour, but I found one, removed the broken glass pieces, and squeezed my way in. I didn't need to go very far. Superadyne had a very distinct smell when it was being cooked. I got a whiff of it before I made it out of the abandoned office area. It may not have been "the" lab, but it was definitely a lab. Squeezing my way back out of the window, I flew to some cover and pulled out the squawk box. "Death's Head to Brawler!"

There was a moment's delay before I got a beep back; it reminded me of push to talk phones. I thought the things used the same technology. "Why do you still have the communicator, Jason!"

"I think I found your lab!"

"I don't give a fuck what you think you found. You get that thing back to FC before I kick your ass to the moon, Jason. This isn't a game."

I snarled. "I know this isn't a fucking game! You think I'd be getting soaked to death, at night, during the Vahz plague, for fun?"

"You have ten minutes to be back to Galaxy and to your place, Jason. I'll deal with this tomorrow!" I heard the tweedle sound of being cut off.

"Bastard," I grumbled, tucking away the box. I was going to get my ass kicked for trying to help... again.

They could track me with the box. Hell, they could track me even without it because of the damn medicom chip. I flew fast and furious through the rain, while trying to protect my face, and made it to the Tram and back into Galaxy with under a minute to spare. I didn't get to the apartment in the allotted time, but I was cooked anyway. I had just thrown the squawk box on the couch and was peeling off my jacket and shirt, when Urioch came in from the balcony. He looked like hell. Beaten, bruised, cut up, dripping wet, and like he was ready to collapse. He eyed me cautiously. "Jason, why are you soaked?"

Why the fuck bother lying? He would hear about it eventually. "Because I've been flying around in the rain, trying to convince Bad Attitude Brawler that I figured out where the real Superadyne lab is. He says he'll deal with it tomorrow... no, that he'll deal with 'me' tomorrow. It's such bullshit! I was a Skull, I know how they think, and no one will listen to me."

Urioch looked at me, studying my eyes. I wasn't lying. I'd promised I wouldn't lie any more. Grunting, he stalked past me towards the bathroom. "Get into dry clothes and give me a few minutes, Jason. We will see if your hunch is correct."

Blinking, I watched him close the door before I started moving. We were going to see if I was right? I slid on my program uniform and then pulled on a rain coat over that. Urioch came out of the bathroom, looked at me, and nodded. "We will investigate your suspicions, Jason, but you will do as you are told."

I nodded.

"Then let us go."

There was no way Urioch was going to fit through the window I'd squeezed through before. There was also the problem of his energy trail. When he flew, he glowed. That didn't work well for sneaking anyplace. I dropped him off at the roof entrance nearest to the office I got into before. Yeah, he could have blown his way in, but getting into a full blown gang war in a drug-lab wasn't the smartest thing to do. I got up to the roof and opened the door without anyone being the wiser.

Urioch sniffed the air as we got into the offices. "Superadyne."

"Told you," I mumbled, floating my way to the plant door. We got out on to the upper catwalks before seeing any actual activity. The skulls had done a good job camouflaging the main warehouse area. No light was going to get out. A group of four gang members walked under us on their way deeper into the warehouse.

"Marrow Snap wants everything broken down by midnight. We're moving before the capes catch a clue."

I looked at Urioch and whispered, "That isn't much time."

"These are only Skulls, Jason. I will handle this. You keep out of danger and set you communicator for emergency team call. Regardless of what Brawler may think, an emergency call must be answered."

"What about you?"

"Bullets cannot penetrate my armor, Jason. I will be fine." With that, his armor flowed upward, like mercury, until it covered his head and face. I hadn't seen him do that often. It was freaky.

Urioch flew off the catwalk and soared down into the maze of shipping boxes and old machinery. I pulled out my call box and keyed in the emergency signal. Brawler was going to kill me, but at least there would be a lot less Superadyne hitting the streets. My attention was yanked from the signal by the first barrage of machine gun fire. It was followed quickly by the sound of energy explosions. Urioch was on the case. I sat there, like a good boy, and waited. Urioch said his armor could stop bullets. He'd be fine. I wasn't so sure about armor piercing rounds, or exploding bullets, or flame throwers. Could his armor stop all that too?

"Fuck it," I muttered, swooping over the railing and down into the main plant area. If he didn't need me, I could keep far enough back that I wouldn't get in the way.

Alien armor or not, thousands of rounds of ammo would wear anyone down. Also, Urioch hadn't been in top form when we got here. He was tired, just off a task force, and nearly dead on his feet. Why the fuck had I mentioned anything? Urioch had cleared out the whole lower level, and was trading blows with a Bone Daddy up on a catwalk. That was Marrow Snap. I'd heard of him, but I'd never met him. He was one of the more powerful Bone Daddies. He and Urioch traded blasts of darkness and light like some titanic battle you would expect from Hollywood. Ultimate expressions of good and evil were raging at the end of the building while gang members fled from the fury being unleashed.

I soared closer, staying near the rafters and out of sight. Urioch's armor was dented, marred and torn in places. Marrow Snap's black leather jacket was smoldering and his black jeans were torn and burnt. There was blood streaking his skull-tattooed face, and he wasn't giving in.

"You're a fucking idiot, Cape," he yelled, dodging under Urioch's blast as he closed the distance. "I'm going to crush every bone in your body." Darkness and red light swirled about his fists and he rained a dozen or more blows into Urioch's torso. I could see the armor flexing, denting, yielding under the assault. With a resonance that filled the plant, Marrow Snap slammed his fist into Urioch's chest and sent him over the railing and to the concrete. Urioch didn't get up. Marrow Snap laughed, though it was punctuated by some coughing and maybe more than a little spit-up blood, before he leapt over the railing, landed on the crates below, and then jumped down to Urioch's body. Urioch started to move, lifting his head to face his enemy. Marrow Snap raised his hands and I saw the darkness coalesce between them. I'd seen that attack before. He was going to suck out the remaining life from Urioch, like a vampire, and heal himself. Only the older bones could do that. "Say goodbye, asshole."

Urioch screamed as the darkness wrapped about them. I couldn't get down there fast enough, but I didn't need to get there. My thoughts slammed into Marrow Snap, throwing him into and through the crates as I dropped to the floor and ran for Urioch. I rolled as gunfire sprayed over my head. There were still gang members about. I caught sight of the guy with the gun and waved. He flew off the crates he'd been standing on and smashed against the ceiling before I dropped him. I didn't wait around for the thud.

Urioch groaned as I got to him. He wasn't dead. I practically cried in relief. "I set the emergency call. Help's coming."

"Jason..." I could see the reflection in his armor, I rolled. The dark power lashed into the crates behind where I'd been kneeling.

Marrow Snap was on me before I could think. Wrapped in darkness, the way he hobbled and limped only made his blurred movements more horrifying. He grabbed my throat, lifting me off the ground as if I was nothing but air. "I'm going to suck you dry, Cape-lite, and then I'm going to finish my canned meal." His power flared again, and I felt the darkness rip into me, trying to take away everything that mattered.

I could feel them. I'd been too close to death too many times not to feel them. Mom and Dad were there, holding onto me, trying to help. Who knew angels could be desperate? I'd promised I'd take care of myself. I said they didn't need to do it anymore. I hadn't meant to lie. I didn't want it to be a lie. I wanted to live. I wanted to keep my promises for once. Something in me snapped open, like a lock that had kept me out or something in, and I felt like I was exploding. I opened my eyes, sucking in a full breath against the strangle hold of Marrow Snap's grip, and my life held fast. I met the darkness of his eyes and saw my own eyes reflected there. They were glowing. It was a green-white light that was blazing behind my eyes, burning away the darkness that held me. "Think again," I managed to spit around his grip, and thrust my will at his head. He let go, dropping me as he flew back.

I hit the ground, and scrambled back over to Urioch. His breathing was so shallow. The pain was fading, slowly, but it was more like all sensation was fading instead of pain. I felt Marrow Snap's rage as he charged back towards us. He'd managed to heal himself, at least partially, and he was ready for another round. I wished Urioch was.

"I'm going to break you too, black boy."

I waved, clawing at him as I thrust him into the air. "The name's Death's Head, moron."

Marrow Snap snorted, but he couldn't move. "The guy who bitch-slapped Jaw Breaker over in Galaxy?"

"One and the same," I snarled, trying to tighten my grip. I could feel him flexing against me.

"You're one of us, Jasey-boy. We made you. What are you fucking around with the Capes for?"

I glared at him, squeezing tighter. I wanted him to shut up. "The Skulls killed me, Marrow Snap. Urioch and a whole bunch of others saved me." I squeezed again. He was having a hard time breathing. "I'm going to be a cape some day, and I'm not going to stop until I've swept every last one of you bastards off the street."

"Shame," Marrow Snap gasped, determined to talk me down, "Big-blue ain't going to be there to see it..."

"Neither are you." I clenched my fist shut and put every ounce of hate I could muster into it. Marrow Snap gasped, and then there was a multitude of snapping as I watched his chest cave in. I felt the backlash of hate and darkness from him as I snuffed him out. It wasn't like when the workers had died. With them, it was like a small point of light being blown out and some little part of my own went with them. His was like an opening to a void, and all I had done was plug the hole.

There was a flicker of life fading out. It was like a blue-white candle flame struggling in the wind. There just wasn't enough fuel left to keep it burning. I pulled Urioch's head into my lap and tried to figure out what to do. Magdalene wasn't here. There wasn't any ancient goddess magic to save the day. Demonicalle wasn't here. No injection of bio-boosting radiation was available. It was just us. His eyes were glazing over, and I tried to keep him focused on me. "You can't die. It's against the rules."

Urioch smiled weakly before he slipped unconscious. I couldn't stop my tears as his light faded. "I'm not letting you off that easy, you pointy-eared freak." He didn't respond, just kept sinking into my lap. Bending over him, I brought my face to his, yelling. "You promised to see my potential fulfilled. I haven't gotten there yet!" The bastard. He wasn't allowed to die. I'd done what I promised. I'd been good. I'd stopped lying. It wasn't fair. My tears dripped down his partially armored face as I held him, praying so quietly I wasn't sure God could hear me. "God, don't leave me alone again. Please... I can't do it again."

That lock inside snapped with so much force I thought my heart would break. It felt like I was pouring myself out, trying to refill a container that was nearly empty. The blaze in my mind kept the flicker in Urioch rekindling, like when a bowtorch was put near a dying ember. If I kept burning bright enough, maybe he'd last until help arrived.

Awakenings - Chapter 07

2009-10-02T22:57:29Z

I couldn't believe it was over. I stood in the living room, my stuff crammed into bags and boxes, as Urioch glared at me. The hate, the pure hate and disgust radiating from him had me crying. All I wanted was to have things they way they'd been before.

I reached out, trying to grip his arm. "Urioch, please!" I couldn't believe I was begging.

Thrusting me away, he snarled, "You are nothing but a burden. You are never satisfied. Life gives you every opportunity and you consume it all and demand more!"

"I don't need more," I mumbled, getting up off the floor. I knew what I needed. "Please..."

Lifting me by my shirt, he brought our faces close. The tone in his voice wasn't the joyful music I'd listened to so many times. It was the dark tone he reserved for criminals and villains. "Leave, Jason. You are nothing but a hole to me... a ravenous, gaping hole that can never be filled."

"No!" I sat up, shaking, and looked around my bedroom. I'd been out of the hospital for over two weeks, but I didn't feel well at all. Climbing out of bed, I wandered into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. I hadn't had a good night's sleep since I ran out of pain pills. I wasn't in pain, physically at least, so there wasn't any excuse for more. I wished Amanda was available, but she was taking care of Patrick, the kids, and helping to put that family back together. Standing by the balcony doors, I looked out at the city lights.

"You're up late."

I didn't look back as Demonicalle came into the room. I could feel she was both annoyed and concerned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Being a living Geiger Counter, I sense people around me by their emissions." She smirked as I looked back at her. "Being a paranoid bitch, I wake up the moment someone moves nearby." She turned and wandered into the kitchen. "I'm also not deaf."

"I just had another bad dream about Urioch."

"You'd better get used to bad dreams, kiddo; being an empath and all." She put the tea kettle on the stove. "If not, you're going to be in a rubber room before the year's out."

I squeezed my eyes sut. "In my dreams, he hates me. I'm a disappointment and a burden." I choked on the last words. They hurt the most. "I'm just a hole that can't be filled."

"Blah, blah, blah," she grumbled at me, waving dismissively. "Doesn't sound like Urioch. If your subconscious is going to use him to torment you, the least it could do is get his speech patterns right."

"Oh, fuck you," I snapped, turning to look outside again.

"You should be so lucky," she retorted. I heard her drop a spoon into a mug as the tea pot began to whistle. After a couple minutes of clinking I tried to ignore, she came over and held a mug of hot cocoa to me while looking out at the night. "You aren't a disappointment, Jason. Not to Urioch, or any of your friends."

Yes I am. I took the mug, but didn't look at her any more than she looked at me.

"Oh, don't get me wrong... you're a pain in the ass, and not in the good way." She snorted at my sideways glance. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

I held the mug and looked back out at the night; I didn't see it. My mind returned to hospital. I was tired of waking up to the sounds of medical devices and urgent calls over a speaker system. It felt like my life kept being reset. This time I hadn't been greeted by the calm, patient presence of an alien I'd mistaken for an angel. I'd been greeted by a man who was finally coming to the end of his patience.

Urioch looked at me from where he stood at the far window. "You got yourself killed."

"I'm not dead." They had me on enough drugs that I really wasn't feeling any pain, either empathically or otherwise.

"Only because Magdalene's magic was able to save you."

I grumbled, just wanting to have the IVs taken out. "Sorry to be such a bother."

Urioch growled at me. He never growled. He never flew off the handle. Even the first night we flew together, he hadn't been like this. "The only bother is your lack of consideration for the rest of us, Jason. I have ignored your nightly excursions. I have overlooked your 'borrowing' of my call box and have confirmed every incarceration you have made in my name. Your reckless, self absorption will stop; I will not tolerate it any further. If you refuse to act in your own best interest, I will do it for you." Our eyes met, but this time instead of drawing me in, those alien eyes pushed at me, keeping me out. "I will have you put behind bars if necessary to keep you safe."

I sat there, stunned. "If I hadn't gone in, Patrick would be dead."

"No, Jason. All you did was put your own life in peril. If Magdalene had not come, you both would be dead." Even through the drugs, I could feel his emotions. They were too complex, and filled with too many conflicts to sort out. One thing was certain: I'd caused them.

I looked away. "I'm sorry."

Urioch's temper flared. "Until you intend to do something to amend your behavior, do not waste my time with 'I'm sorry'."

My attention snapped back to the present as Demoncalle nudged me. "You spill that mug, I'm not cleaning it up."

I watched the tear running down my cheek in my reflection. "Yeah... I suppose I need to start cleaning up my own messes."

I swallowed down my anxiety and, with a deep breath, pushed open the door. Several familiar faces looked at me from the circle of PYRCOP participants. I faked the most sincere smile I could, and moved to the moderator's chair. "As I'm sure you've heard, Patrick won't be joining us for a while." I squared my shoulders and sat down. "I've agreed to run our weekly sessions until he returns."

There were a few murmurs and a couple nods, but no one objected.

I smiled at the few new people. "My name's Jason, I was a member of the Skulls for a couple years after the invasion. Welcome."

The new girl with purple and black hair spoke up first. "I'm Alice."

"Hi, Alice," everyone greeted, almost in unison.

"I don't want to end up like my brothers."

"What happened to them," Brody, one of the group's long time and most outspoken participant asked.

"They died."

This was going to be an interesting session.

"Jason..." Demonicalle sounded as tired as I felt. I turned, looking at her as she walked wearily out of Urioch's room. He was always on a mission, so Demoncalle spent more nights at the apartment than not. "... I'm going to kick your subconsious's ass."

I shrugged. "Nightmares." There was no point in denying them; Demonicalle wasn't a telepath or empathy, but she could read bio-signs in her sleep.

"Get a grip, Jason. It's been weeks," she grumbled, settling down on the arm of the couch. "We all have nightmares."

"There's coffee in the kitchen," I deflected, and looked back into the darkness. "What are yours about?"

Demonicalle shifted off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. "Childhood, mostly... I had a gem of a father."

I sipped my coffee, following her gaze. "Mine don't even make sense."

"Of course they do," she countered, coming back in with her coffee. "They just don't make sense rationally; emotionally, well..."

Why did even thinking about them take the strength out of me?

"Nightmares are like cancer," Demonicalle said between sips of coffee, "if they stay hidden, they eat away at you until you die."

"Joy," I mumbled.

Demonicalle snorted. "But catch them early, work on them, and you can get rid of them."

"I wish I was as strong as you," I mumbled. "How can you stand it?"

"Stand what?" She looked at me, her eyes and emotions revealing nothing.

"How can you stand..." I choked. I just couldn't say it.

"Different? An outcast? A freak?"

I nodded, not willing to look at her.

She snorted again. "Everyone's a freak, Jason" Standing up, she strode over to the window. "The freaks who pretend they're 'normal' are pathetic. You either are who you are, or you deny who you are."

I growled at her. "Easy for you! It isn't like you have any choice!"

"Whine, whine, whine," she laughed flatly, "yeah, so easy to be me." She turned and put her fist on her hip. "Look at me, Jason."

I did.

"You think 'this' is who I am? You think I'm just a frog skinned, rams horned demonic bitch gone straight?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"No?" She rolled her eyes. "Somehow my life is easier because what makes me different is on the outside? That's such bullshit. Strength doesn't come from what you can hide and deny, Jason. You're eating yourself up because you're a fucking coward"

Fucking tears. I hated crying.

"I've found that real people, honest people, don't turn you away because you're different. They turn away when you try to live a lie."

I looked away. It was my fault. I'd pushed and pushed and been angry because they couldn't protect me from myself. In the dark glass, I could see them, worried and lost as I yelled at them that morning. I'd yelled at them, jealous that they gave more love to strangers than they did to me. Why the fuck had I yelled? Why didn't I tell them I loved them, or that I needed them too? Why did the last things we said have to be angry and resentful? "I just want them back, and that isn't going to happen."

"Who?"

"My parents," I choked. "They didn't know the truth." No walls. I just couldn't lift the bricks any more.

"Know what?" She was like a dog with a bone; once she sank her teeth into something, she never let go.

"You already know," I mumbled.

"Maybe, but this isn't about me."

"I never told them I was gay," I whispered, pushing the words past my lips. I waited, for anything. There wasn't any light from the sky. No great weight was released from my soul. No miraculous transformation. Nothing had changed, but saying it didn't bring the roof caving in either.

"Okay, so?"

"What do you mean, SO!?!" I glared at her. "I'm a fucking faggot!"

"So?" She sipped her coffee in the face of my anger. "They wouldn't have had grandkids; big deal."

"Yeah, well I'll never know what they would have thought or said," I snarled, "they're dead. Urioch isn't!"

"You thought Urioch was a guardian angel the first time you saw him. What makes you think he'd give a damn?"

I looked away. "I don't believe in angels," I countered, skirting her question. The city looked so dark. The little dots of light did nothing to remove the weight of it all.

Demonicalle looked at me in the glass. "You should. You've had a few watching over you for a while now."

I snorted. "That's rich; a demon trying to convince someone to believe in angels."

She shrugged, and sipped her coffee. "Who better to know, huh?"

We stood there, staring out at the city, until the sun pushed away the darkness. I'd lied about the angels too. I was tired of lying. As the morning light spilled into the apartment, I sent out a selfish little prayer. I prayed one angel would come home. I really needed to know he was okay.

The gold and red autumn leaves rustled in the wind as I looked at the headstones. The headstones were simple, plain, and solid. I supposed that was best. My parents had never liked fuss and flourish. I'd been to more graves in the past half year than I had my entire life. I hated graveyards. Graveyards had always been about loss, misery and grief. As I stood there, looking at the graves I'd never visited, I realized that wasn't what the place was about. Graves gave the living something to hold onto after the ones we loved were gone. There was a small, neglected vase between the headstones. It probably hadn't ever had flowers in it. I promised myself to bring flowers the next time I came.

"I know I say it too much, but I never said it to you. I'm sorry." I brushed a tear away. I was so tired of them at that point. "I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to love me. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I never told you what was wrong. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you." I grinned, trying to figure out what my count was up to. It made me laugh. "I'm pretty sorry aren't I?"

The graves didn't answer, but the breeze swirled a bit. Demonicalle might have said it felt like the flutter of angel's wings. In a way, it did. It was odd to think that an ex-hellion with green skin and demonic features would want me to believe in angels. I hoped I hadn't made too much work for the ones looking after me.

"I'm going to be okay. I wasn't sure about it for a while, but I am. I promise, I'm not going to hide any more. I don't have the excuse of being seventeen and in angst over who I was. I'm not even a teen anymore. It took a few trips to the emergency room and the help of some really incredible people, but I hope you'll be proud of me some day." I smiled, wiping away another tear. "I've finally learned how to cry. That's a start, right?"

I hoped they heard me. I wanted to believe that something in my life was going right. I wanted to think I could give them a break and start taking care of myself for a change. I looked back through the trees. Mrs. Patterson sat on the bench, looking in my general direction but giving me some sense of privacy. Urioch was with Magdalene visiting SM's grave.

"I love you guys, but I've got some people to get back to. I'll visit more often. I promise." Taking a deep breath, I turned from the graves and wound my way back to where Mrs. Patterson was sitting. She regarded me thoughtfully as I shoved my hands in my coat pockets and stopped by the bench. "Thanks for finding them for me."

"It was no trouble, Jason. We all need closure." She looked back out toward the graves. "I've been here a few times myself."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, patting the bench. "Sit down Jason." I did, and she looked out at the endless expanse of lawn and headstones. "I have an apology to give you. It's something I don't do very often."

I looked at her, wondering what the hell she had to apologize for. Sure, I could think of a dozen things I would have wanted apologies for, but I knew they weren't what she was talking about.

"I've been harder on you than most of my other cases, Jason. When your file showed up on my desk, it felt like the past had come back to haunt me." Taking a breath, she sighed. "Your mother was one of my best employees for years. She was a good woman. When she died," she stopped, taking a moment to collect her thoughts, "when so many good people died, there weren't enough of us left to handle everything. We tried to find the family members, but it was impossible to coordinate after the Rikti invasion. I didn't discover you had survived until after you vanished from the shelters. There were so many orphans; so many who slipped through the cracks."

"I didn't know anyone was looking for me."

She frowned. "I didn't look, Jason. I glanced, briefly, in hopes that you wouldn't become one of the statistics. I didn't see you, so a statistic was what you became."

I flinched. She didn't mean it in a cruel way. I could feel what she meant. A person couldn't keep functioning in her position if she couldn't separate herself from the losses. "Thanks for taking care of them," I mumbled, nodding out at the graves.

She nodded, and then picked up her purse. "I assume that you never recovered anything after the invasion."

I shook my head. "The apartment building was crushed."

"Here." She pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to me. "The archives are kept for seven years after the death of an employee in hopes that belongings can be returned to family members. It took me a while to get your parents' things out of storage. I have a box of miscellaneous items from their desks, but I thought you might want these."

Opening the envelope, I pulled out a handful of pictures. They were of me, shots of my parents and family photos; the stuff people would put on their desk or in their office. I looked at my mother's photo. With white hair, I looked a lot like her. She'd had pale blond hair. My father had been dark haired. I had his build, and his jaw, but the rest of my face was Mom's. I'd forgotten how beautiful she'd been. I had to blink away the tears as I shuffled through the little miracle in my lap. I didn't want to get the photos wet. "Thanks."

"This doesn't preclude our meeting next week, Jason. This was an unofficial visit."

I grinned. The old bitch was still there, but I kind of liked her that way. "I know. Ten on Thursday."

Rising, Mrs. Patterson closed her purse. "I'm not going to cut you any breaks, Jason."

Tucking the treasures back in the envelope, I stood up. "I don't want them."

"Good." She left me at the bench as she wandered into the graveyard. I supposed she had a lot of graves to visit. It was something better done alone.

Magdalene smiled at me as she and Urioch returned from SM's grave. "It looks like you have settled some differences."

I shot an evil look at Patterson's distant back. "She's still a cast iron bitch, but at least she's on my side."

"Hello Jason," Mr. Lowenski called as I came into the store. Lowenski's Used Books was Urioch's favorite book store. Mr. Lowenski usually had a paper grocery bag full of books for Urioch whenever I came in. I walked over to the counter as he hefted the bag up. "After two years, it is a challenge to find books he hasn't read."

I laughed. "You're hitting the bottom of the barrel here, Pops." Pulling out a romance novel with more Fabio flesh on the cover than plot in the pages, I smirked. "This guy is so last century."

"Urioch doesn't care about the covers," Mr. Lowenski shot back, frowning at me. "If you can do so much better, go find a few yourself."

"I had to look for some research material anyway," I replied, heading for the shelves. Lowenski's was a hole in the wall, but once you got into the shelves it became a maze that seemed to go on forever. I knew the space was smaller than the Cauldron, but I swore Pop's had ten times as many books. Not to mention, Lowenski had a little of everything from classics to smut. Jonathan's books were of a far more limited scope. I was sweating a little as I brought my 'research' back up and dropped the books on the counter.

Pop's eyed me for a moment. "Well, I would never have picked any of that stuff for him, that's for sure."

"I'm doing a research for a sociology report on subcultures." It wasn't a lie. I was, and the books were legitimate research materials, sort of.

Pop's laughed as he picked up one of the books, looking at the cover. "And you were commenting on my covers?"

I looked at the naked, entwined men caught in a moment of passion and tried not to blush. It was a hot photo. I had no idea if the story was worth the read, but the cover was worth the cost. "I thought you said Urioch doesn't care about covers."

He shrugged. "Eh, what do I know? The man's an alien. He might find the mating rituals of dolphins stimulating for all I know."

"No bestiality, Pops. That's just wrong." I shot him an icky face before hefting up the bag.

"On the tab?"

"Yeah," I grinned, "since he'll read all the stuff anyway, no reason for me to pay for it."

"You are an evil boy," Pops chuckled, but pulled out Urioch's ledger.

"See you next week."

I sorted through the photos again, spreading them out on the table where we usually played chess. I only wanted a few in frames; the others could go in the album I'd picked up on the way back from school. Urioch came out of his room, looking like a worn out rag doll, as I narrowed down my photo choices. "You look like shit," I commented as he rubbed his face.

"Does that description mean I look like I ache and am exhausted?"

"Yeah, that'd cover it."

"Then I look like shit."

I sniffed the air as he turned toward the bathroom. "You smell none too fresh either."

"Of that I am keenly aware," he agreed, "I shall take a shower." He disappeared into the bathroom as I settled on the four pictures I wanted to put in frames. He came back out smelling a bit better, but not looking all that much better. His color was off and he was dark around his eyes. He looked at the picture I'd made space for on one of the shelves as he came up behind me. "You have her eyes."

I grinned. "Desperate to live, huh?"

He looked at me for a moment, scrutinizing my eyes. "Only when there's some doubt. I would describe them as full of life."

I scrutinized back. "I wish yours were. You look tired."

He nodded, moving to sink onto the couch. "The Vahzalok plague is spreading. It isn't safe, especially at night."

"I haven't gone out," I mumbled.

"I know," he replied, looking back at me. "It is easier to work knowing you and Magdalene are safe."

I smiled. "You know, she's better at chess than you are." We'd been playing over at her place for the last week. She had a beautiful Celtic set of pewter and bronze.

Urioch smiled. "Who do you think taught me?"

"I wish you were staying longer." God. That sounded needy.

"We believe we have found Doctor Vahzalok himself. We need to act before he moves again."

"Fucking psycho. Wasn't he the guy who was driven to take medicine to a new level? Improve life for everyone?"

"Yes. Doctor Vahzalok is a genius. He revolutionized surgical techniques for organ and limb replacement, neurological regeneration and reconstruction of the immune system."

I sat down on the arm next to him. "He cured AIDs didn't he?"

Urioch closed his eyes, leaning back into the cushions. "Yes. His desire to conquer death and disease became an obsession that led to madness. Now he is like the character, Doctor Frankenstein. He believes he can recreate life itself."

My fingers stroked the back of his skull near his top-knot. I just wanted to touch him to confirm he was really there. It'd been weeks since we'd had any time to talk. "I know you don't want to hear, I'm sorry, but after the last visit in the hospital, I guess I want to make sure we're still friends."

His head pressed into my hand as he looked up at me. "Yes, Jason, we are still friends. I should not have taken my anger out on you."

"You had every right to." I shrugged, not pulling my hand away. I let my fingers slide down to the back of his neck and I pressed against the knots I felt there. He was so tense. I didn't need empathy to feel it. "I took advantage, and was selfish and inconsiderate."

He groaned as I pressed into a knot. It made me want to take both hands and work the knots out. I had no clue how to do massage, but I just couldn't stop myself. I slid off the couch, around behind it and dug my thumbs into his shoulders. He moaned, let his head drop forward, and just gave me access. I was breathing a little too shallow by the time my fingers gave out. I had to keep myself from bending down and letting my hands wander further. Pointy eared wet dream or not, he was my friend. I didn't know if I'd actually done any good, but he felt more relaxed. He sank back against the cushions again, and I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, resting the side of my head against his. I could have stayed like that forever. "I've missed you, you pointy-eared freak."

He chuckled and just let me stay like that. "I have missed you too."

Torch Song - Chapter 33

2008-11-02T01:34:38Z

Three nights since I received my mother's gift, and sleep continued to elude me. I stared at the ceiling, awakened again by memories and feelings that were not my own, and pondered how the world had turned so dark. All the torch fire in existence could not illuminate the blackness that clung to the underside of Cradalym. I could not look in any direction and not see the disease that corrupted the Gifts of Goddess. I slipped from the bed, from the warmth and light of the man I loved, took up my hearthstone, and stepped quietly into the hall. Shadows stretched, long and dark across the walls and floors as I moved; they seemed alive, avoiding the light of my hearthstone, creeping into crevices and behind furniture as I moved.

I wandered like a wraith, descending the stairs to the entry hall, and stopped before the great mirror. I was no more free of the darkness than anyone else. It gathered in my face, around my eyes, into the worry lines and exhaustion that were so evident when I didn't work to keep them hidden. I lived because my mother had broken the first law. She had wielded torchfire against another torch bearer. It had been in self defense, but did that absolve the sin?

I stared at my reflection, the shadows looking more and more like the dark stains of blood than a simple absence of light. Goddess accepted me. I stood before her, my naked fire alight, and she accepted me. Why was it so hard for me to accept myself? Why did the sins of a world I hardly knew weigh so heavy upon me? Why should the events of a life I never lived control my future?

"Was the bed too warm for you, cousin?"

I turned slowly from my reflection, the light from my hearthstone filling the space behind me, and I gazed upon Laromind. How familiar this felt. I glanced at the stairs to see if Pars might be upon them, looking for me as I had looked for him before. No one was on the stairs. I returned my gaze to Laromind and tried to push my dark thoughts aside. "We encounter one another at the most unusual times, Laromind. Was it not beside the stairs, in the dark, when we last had an encounter thus?"

If the memory stirred him, he made no indication of it. "Then, Pars sought me out." He pushed away from the banister and moved closer; his liquid courage gave his movements a slithering quality, but he was by no means impaired. "Now you do."

"Don't be absurd," I snorted, and moved passed him.

Laromind caught my elbow, his grip far stronger than I anticipated. "It torments you," he whispered, "what Pars is."

I dropped my gaze to his hand, my hearthstone brightening until he released his hold. "You play a dangerous game, Laromind. Take your liquid lovers back to your rooms, before you are emboldened to do something we will both regret."

"Does your light shine into dark spaces, torchbearer?" Laromind grinned as he circled me, keeping his distance. "Do you see truth?" He leaned in again, his face so close to mine that his breath was warm upon my cheek. "You're blind." Rocking back, he laughed. "Whether by nature or by choice I can not say."

"You are drunk." I turned as he circled, keeping him to my front.

"Indeed, but even my pickled brain can fathom that which you refuse to see." He leaned in again, his movements almost erratic but swift as a serpent's. "You will ruin him. The beast dies when caged; and what a magnificent beast he is."

I turned with him, keeping him in my view.

"Raw," he breathed, the heat of his words rising to his eyes, "passionate. I know his nature, cousin, better than you. I have taken his ravenous hunger and fed upon his strength. His passion is for his own kind, in muscle and sweat, not the laurels of the divine sex. No woman can tame him; this will all come to ruin."

I kept my tongue. His hunger was like that of Erolan's; his look was that of the hunter. I blinked, images of our prior encounters filling my vision again. As if a veil were gone, burned away by realization, I saw them anew. I recoiled, and found myself in a corner. How expert he was at this dance. I caught a look at him again, his shirt mostly open, his body taught in anticipation. Imaginations flashed by, lean pale muscle against auburn fur, sweat, passionate cries, and bestial coupling rough and hungry. I could see the memories in his eyes.

"Ah," he said, his smile brightening at my reaction, "the light dawns."

Oh yes, it dawns, I thought, but it is you who are still in the dark. Knowing Pars as he did, it was impossible to think that Laromind could not deduce the truth. So blinded by his own magnificence, his own sense of entitlement, he could not accept Pars's feelings were in earnest. If he could, if he, like I, had but a moment of insight, my safety would be gone. Thus far, those who discovered me were noble and true souls. I trembled at how a selfish creature like Laromind would make use of such knowledge.

"Do not tremble, little cousin," he cooed, mistaking my horror to be of Pars's past relations, "we need only our understanding." He reached out, pushing the hair back from my face. "He is mine, but you may wear of him in public if you wish. Like a hired frock, you will always know from whom you borrow your attire."

The hall erupted in lavender and blue light, cascading down from the stairs. Laromind stumbled back, blinded by the blaze, as Iragalis dimmed her fire. "That will be quite enough, Laromind; playtime is over."

I moved from the corner, humiliated to be witnessed in such a disadvantaged position. I had not sensed Iragalis before her blaze. How long had she been there?

"Aunt…" Laromind shielded his eyes as he looked upon her. "We were just talking."

"There was no conversation to be had," Iragalis contradicted as she descended the stairs. "You impose yourself upon Janel when she has slept but little and endures the stresses and difficulties of being newly ordained."

"Aunt…"

"What games you play at Maldrendy is none of my concern," Iragalis instructed, her tone brooking no argument. "However, those games will not be tolerated at Firestoke. You squandered your opportunities, nephew. You must now dwell in the ashes of your missteps."

"He is mine!" Laromind objected. He pointed at Iragalis, defiant in his bottle induced courage. "No amount of torchfire will change him; ever!"

Fire leaked from Iragalis's eyes. Though she did not move her presence filled the hall, pressing Laromind down into the space where the wall met the floor. She did nothing but glare at him, yet her will burned away his courage. Laromind retreated from her light, wrapping himself into an ever tightening ball of fear.

"Iragalis!" Wendalin stood upon the stairs, her gentle light dispersing the angry blaze that filled the hall. She descended the stairs hurriedly. "What is going on?"

Iragalis took a deep breath, her blaze cooling through deliberate effort. "Your wine soaked child has been making a fool of himself, again."

Wendalin frowned at her sister as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "That is no excuse raise fire, Iragalis."

Iragalis grabbed her sister's wrist, keeping her from continuing to Laromind. "There would be no need, if you kept him under closer regulation. I care nothing for his passions, Wendalin, so long as he keeps his habits discrete, but discretion has never been one of his strengths." She looked back at Laromind. "I will not having him imposing himself upon Pars, or Janel."

Wendalin blinked. "He would never…"

"What he would do physically, and what he does through hateful words and insinuations are two different things. Physical wounds are far easier to heal." She released Wendalin. "Instruct him to keep his tongue, or I will still it for him."

Iragalis turned and climbed the stairs, fuming in her silence. I was unsure whether to follow, stay, or leave by a different avenue.

Wendalin's shoulders slumped, and she looked at me. "Are you alright, Janel?"

I nodded. "I am unharmed."

"I apologize for my son. I hope his addled ramblings have not caused you concern."

Not the concern he intended, that is certain, I thought. "No." I looked back at the whimpering man on the floor. "You may require help returning him to his rooms."

Wendalin sighed, walking over to her son and knelt to stroke his hair. "I will wake Jornam to aid me."

Kneeling beside her I gently helped Wendalin unwind Laromind from his ball. "Let him sleep."

"You have burdens enough," Wendalin objected as we lifted Laromind from the floor.

"All things considered," I replied, "this is a small burden to bear."

We managed Laromind back to his room and onto his bed. Wendalin sat beside him as he wept, passing her hand over him as she shed soft light of comfort upon him. I left her to tend to her son, and sought my own comfort. My comfort was wandering, probably in search of me. I found Pars coming out of the library.

"There you are," he breathed with relief, wrapping his arms about me, "are you still unable to sleep?"

I nodded into his chest. "My mind is too full, and not of my own thoughts and fears."

Pars kissed my hair. "I woke to a sense of dread. For a moment I feared you were gone."

I smiled. "You have nothing to fear there, no matter what your cousin may wish to the contrary."

Pars frowned, releasing me. "What does Laromind have to do with this?"

"Nothing more than his usual tantrums." I shrugged. "I believe I understand him more than before, and that relieves me more than disturbs me."

"What relieves you and disturbs you?"

I took his hands and squeezed, pushing up upon my toes to whisper, "I am relieved that I am not the first man you have loved."

Pars flinched, but he squeezed my hands in return. "You are the only one I love."

I smiled. "I know."

"What disturbs you?"

"If Laromind ever looks further than his own reflection, knowing you as he does, it is possible he will come to the conclusion that you are living a lie."

Pars snorted. "He already believes that."

"The real lie."

Pars frowned. "Oh…"

"We will simply have to be careful, as if we were not already thus, and leave with Pel after our obligations are fulfilled."

Pars nodded. "I spoke to mother about our retreating to Goldstone after the wedding."

I raised an eyebrow. "Goldstone?"

"A small country estate we have near the Northern Rim. It is but a day's ride from Cradalym, and will afford us some privacy." Pars shrugged. "Most newly weds make their escape as soon as may be."

I smiled. "And is conveniently close to the northern road?"

Pars grinned. "Only a couple hours from it. We could easily meet Pel in Perima Pass a day or two after the wedding; no one would be the wiser."

"You sir, are brilliant." I pressed up and kissed him for emphasis.

"Less than a week," he affirmed.

"Maybe I can sleep upon that."

Pars pulled me gently towards the stairs. "I will do my best."

I did not sleep long, but I found comfort in Pars's warmth. Though I pushed them aside, questions returned to persistently disturb my comfort. I wondered how many men Pars had known, and in what ways. He was far too familiar with how to pleasure me, and what pleased him, to have extrapolated it all from his affairs with women. Doubts as to my own prowess began to color my thoughts. I had come to accept that I was the man in Pars's life, and that I could fulfill his needs in ways a woman could not, but with my innocence gone, I wondered if I fulfilled his needs as other men had. I was thankful for the morning, and for the opportunity to spend more time with my uncle and cousin. They were pleasant distractions from my insecurities.

Tyrasin smiled as the carriage came to a gentle stop. "My uncle tells me that you were born in Abora."

"Yes," I replied, ignoring the brief flash of mother's memory that accompanied my thoughts, "the Aborans are a simple, hearty people. I doubt any of our cities approach the magnificence of Cradalym, or Triaslin, or Omnich."

"I would like to live with simple, hearty people," Tyrasin mused, "I have no love of fashion or politics."

I smiled at her as the carriage door opened. "I have little use for either myself."

Tyrasin nodded as we stepped down to the street. "Indeed. Politics are a hobby of most of my sisters, and fashion is ever important to my brothers." She shrugged. "To each their own."

"Bless Goddess for that," I replied, looking about for a moment as mother's memories oriented me. "That way."

Tyrasin took up step beside me as we walked across the square. "It was most kind of Parsethos to help my uncle with his attire." She blinked for a moment, "Our uncle."

I smiled. "I am not used to the idea of cousins, or uncles, myself, Tyrasin. Please do not make yourself uncomfortable over your word choices."

"The sooner I can amend my words, the sooner I know my thoughts have changed." She smiled. "He is a dear, sweet man, our uncle. You will never know how important your return is to him; he has family again."

I blinked. "But you're his family."

She nodded. "Yes, but it isn't the same. A man without wife or children has no one to but his own blood to belong to. It is unfair, but the way of things." She sighed. "You have family obligations now, Janel."

I stopped in the street, struck by what she'd just said. Like the awareness brought by the splash of cold water, I was none the less shocked. "You are disowning him?"

Tyrasin looked both offended and ashamed. "It is only right that he be returned to his family; but if you are not willing or able to take him in, regardless of convention, I will not see him cast aside. I love my uncle more than anyone else in the world, and I want only for him to be happy and with people who love him as he should be loved."

I raised my hand. "Nor would I turn him away, Tyrasin. It had simply not occurred to me." I chewed on my lip as I turned and continued toward our destination. This throws a wrench in our plans... Goddess, how am I going to tell Pars?

I lay in Pars's arms, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. Though I had been doing most of the work, Pars took longer to recover from the taking of my pleasure. Each night, I learned new ways to give him more of my pleasure. Tonight I used all of them, even calling upon my fire to keep myself from finishing too soon. I was not sure to whom I was trying to prove myself by my efforts. Pars kissed the top of my head, his hand stroking my back while my fingers traced patterns in his chest hair.

"Was Laromind able to give you pleasure as this?" I asked quietly, regretting my insecure ramblings as soon as the words left my lips.

Pars flinched, his hand stopping its motion, and he took a breath. He shifted, and lifted my face to look at me. "He was never what you are to me, Janel."

I didn't want an evasion, or compliments, my fears were too insistent to be quieted by them. "He was your lover before me."

"I do not think we were ever in love, Janel. There was too much difference between us."

"Tell me of it, Pars."

He stroked my face. "Why? What passed between Laromind and I ended long ago."

I shifted, snuggling in more closely against him, as I rested my head on his chest. "Because I need to know. I was prepared to be the man in your life, in contrast to your many women, but I realize that I was being naïve. Your preferences are no mystery, even if you are discrete, and you know far too much not to have had one if not many other male loves."

"You are the only love I have ever had," Pars insisted, "though I will not deny that I have known several men in my life."

"When did you know your preferences, Pars?"

Pars's hand resumed his soothing strokes as he talked. "At twelve; I was smitten with the son of our coachmistress."

"Have you never enjoyed your time with women?"

"I have enjoyed it, and known great pleasure in performing my duty. I have even taken much pride in my ability to provide pleasure, but what I felt with them was only with my loins."

I nodded, remembering Laromind's accusations back in Omnich. "No woman has ever touched your heart; your manhood, certainly, but nothing else," I repeated his words as best I could remember them.

"I mistook infatuation and lust for love, Janel. Laromind is a beautiful, talented, sensual man. He knows his sex, owns it as well as any woman, and his interest flattered me. For a time, I thought we could be happy, have meaning, but I was wrong."

I shifted to prop my chin on his chest and look at him. "How were you wrong? Laromind still desires you to distraction."

"Laromind is a spoiled child who has been deprived of his favorite toy, nothing more." Pars looked at the ceiling, and sighed. "That was unkind of me." Pars thought on his words for a few moments before he continued. "As you must be aware by now, my remarkable size is not limited to my height."

I grinned. "Of that I am well aware, yes."

"Taking pleasure of me can be difficult, even for the most lustful women. Men are no less challenged. Laromind, however, reveled in taking his pleasure of me. At first I was more than willing to provide it, but as our couplings continued, my role never changed. Even when I asked, Laromind had no interest in providing me pleasure in kind. He was the richer cousin, the closer to the matriarchal line, and far more beautiful and talented than I. I realized that he intended to be a wife to me in all the unfortunate meanings of the word."

"He is none of those things, Pars," I objected. "He is more classically beautiful, I will grant you, but in all other measures of a man, you are so much more than he ever shall be. I could never love such an empty creature as him."

Pars smiled. "You are beautiful when you are righteously indignant."

I traced my finger through his fur as I pondered his words. "Why have you not given me of your pleasure, Pars?"

Pars looked at me seriously. "A man never gives of his pleasure without being asked. You had not, until now, indicated an interest."

"I had not, until now, realized it." I thought about it. "You take such pleasure from me, and despite my discomfort with thinking of you and Laromind, it is obvious that he took much pleasure of you."

Pars nodded. "You know how I was tonight? How I twice unleashed my pleasure while you gave of it to me?"

"Yes... that is the first time you have unleashed more than once." I felt most accomplished.

"It was an easy night if Laromind took his pleasure but once, most times he would have of me twice if not thrice before he was satisfied." I frowned, but Pars touched my nose with the tip of his finger to distract me from my insecurities. "This is no slight upon you, Janel. Laromind was insatiable, and obsessed with size."

"Oh," I replied quietly, still wondering if Pars might take more pleasure of me if there was more of me to take.

"This is the first time you were determined to give me of your pleasure so intensely or for so long." He stroked my hair from my eyes. "It is because of Laromind isn't it?"

I nodded, ashamed that such a meaningless man could cause me so much discomfort. "I want to take my pleasure of you, Pars."

Pars frowned. "Because Laromind has?"

"No," I insisted, meeting Pars's doubtful gaze. I knew a part of my need was fueled by that truth, but the desire had been in me long before. "That is not the reason. I can not say knowing of it does not affect me, but I want us to be equal, Pars. I do not know what I will desire more without experiencing all our love has to offer. I know also that I want to give to and take of you... unless that is not what you want."

Pars pulled me up to kiss me. "I want all of you, Janel. If you wish to take your pleasure of me, I will happily and passionately provide it. There is no part of you I find disagreeable, and as such, all your wants are agreeable to me."

How I loved this man. I kissed him until my face felt raw from the movement of his beard against me. I released his lips to lay my head against his chest again. My hand traveled down to encircle his tired manhood. "You are too spent to think of it now."

Pars chuckled, and then thought on my words. "We will be married, Janel, in but a few days. Would it be agreeable to you for us to wait until then? I would like to start our life together in bed as I will be to the world, your loving and devoted husband."

I smiled. Though I had hoped to know of his pleasure before then, the symbolic significance of his request was not lost on me. "I would like that, Pars. I want to be everything for you; I want to know what it is to be your wife as well as your husband."

Pars kissed my hair and held me tighter to him. "You are everything to me."

We fell asleep like that, and my dreams were of Pars, and our life. The fire of our passions had, at least for a while, burned away the darkness that threatened daily to overwhelm my thoughts. Also, at no time did an empty, vicious, blonde king enter into my dreams. For the first time in a long while, I slept as contented as a queen.

Destiny's Season - Chapter 05

2008-10-31T23:05:40Z

Sparrow's Nest looked the same as I remembered it. The inn had been my master's choice, and I saw no reason to second guess him. We hitched Mina out front and stepped into the main tavern room. Memories came flooding back. It had been seven years since my last visit, and I felt I could walk the place with my eyes closed. I smiled as I saw a handsome man come out from the kitchen. His ears still looked like someone tugged on them daily.

With a smile, I walked past the bar. "Nathin."

Nathin turned and looked at me for a moment with a blank, servile smile. As he recognized me, his smile wavered and his eyes went wide; he nearly dropped the bucket. "Master Gaerlin?" The joy on his face warmed my heart. He was my fondest memory of Kessel's Claw, and apparently I'd had made a similar impression on him.

He set down his bucket as I stepped in and hugged him. It was inappropriate and far too familiar for a wizard to hug a tavern worker, but I needed it. He looked embarrassed when I stepped back. Looking around, he queried, "Where is Master Almidion?"

I tried not to let my face show the depth of my loss. "He's gone, Nathin."

His eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Master Gaerlin."

Master Bellor came out, about to snarl something at Nathin, and saw me. I raised my head and shifted my staff. "Good day, Master Bellor."

He blinked. "Good day, Master…"

"Gaerlin; I was with Master Almidion when I was last here."

He smiled. "How is Master Almidion?"

"He has passed, Master Bellor."

He too seemed genuinely saddened by the news. "My sympathies, Master Gaerlin. He was a good man."

I nodded. "Thank you, Master Bellor. How many rooms do you have available?"

He blinked. "The great suite is available, as well as two semi-privates."

"How many can bed in the semi-privates?"

"Eight; ten or twelve of they use the floor."

"We'll take all three."

Looking shocked, he nodded. "Of course, Master Gaerlin."

"I will need healers, seamstresses, tailors and cobblers." His eyes grew worried as I spoke. "I will also want to talk with some of the better merchants. Could you arrange all that for me?"

He stuttered. I'm certain he was unsure of what to do. I made up his mind for him by reaching into my belt pouch, pulling forth three gold coins and dropping them on the corner of the bar. "We will be here at least a week."

Palming the coins, he nodded emphatically. "I'll take care of it."

"Thank you."

We had time to bring our belongings to the suite before the caravan arrived. The women were given one room, and the men the other. I arranged to have a wash tub brought to each room and to have hot water brought up for all of us until all were clean. After we settled my people in, and returned to the master suite, Bourent gathered his things.

"What are you doing?"

He frowned. "This is your room, Master Gaerlin. I will move to the semi-private room with the men."

He was almost to the door when I found the courage to say something. My voice was soft, but it didn't waiver. "I wish you wouldn't."

He looked at me from the door. He had that damn look on his face again.

"If you would be more comfortable, Bourent, I won't ask you to stay. Once we are done here, you will be stuck with my company ‘til we get to Imsen. I can understand if you would prefer some space." In truth, I had never traveled alone and had never slept alone in a strange place. I didn't want to start now.

After a long silence, he put his stuff back. "You are a peculiar man, Master Gaerlin."

I sighed. "You aren't one of my people, Bourent. We are going to be traveling companions for who knows how long. We certainly won't make it to Imsen before winter. I think I will go mad if you call me 'Master Gaerlin' the entire journey." My eyes pleaded with him. "I'm just a man, barely; please stop treating me like I'm something I'm not."

There was a knock at the door. Nathin came in after my acknowledgement. "Would you like to bathe now, Master Gaerlin?"

I smiled. "I would love a bath, Nathin." He was about to step out when I added, "Nathin, what did I tell you last time I was here?"

He paused. "That I should reserve 'Master' for a real wizard, you were just 'Gaerlin'."

"I don't remember changing that request." I raised an eyebrow, imitating a superior look of some smug royal brat.

He grinned. "Yes, Master Gaerlin, as you wish, Master Gaerlin."

I narrowed my eyes in mock irritation. "Nathin, you really don't want me to lengthen your ears do you?"

For a moment he actually looked scared, ‘til he saw my grin. "No, Gaerlin, I wouldn't."

"Good; neither would I."

I stopped the movement of the blade as Bourent came back into the room. His freshly washed, damp hair hung to his waist. The light tunic clung to his damp skin in ways that I found uncomfortably distracting. After a moment, I refocused on my reflection and continued to remove a month's worth of itching, spotty growth. Unlike Bourent, and my master, it appeared I would never have a full beard. Not to mention, grooming always made me feel better about myself.

Bourent watched me curiously as I finished shaving. Grooming always calmed me. I hadn't actually groomed since the goblin attack, and after a month I looked as bad as I felt. I had trimmed up my hair as best I could while he bathed; my bangs no longer invaded my eyes. He shook his head when I was finished. "Why bother with all that fuss?"

I smiled. "It relaxes me. Master Almidion addicted me to grooming early."

He rolled his eyes. "If it isn't in your way or causing problems, hair should be left alone."

I laughed and looked at his roughly hewn beard and matted hair. "Have you ever had someone groom you, Bourent?"

He snorted. "My father made me comb out my hair whenever we visited my grandmother, but that wasn't often."

Shaking my head, I scrutinized him. "Well, I know you bathe and keep clean."

He laughed. "There is a big difference between cleanliness and primping."

That seemed like a challenge to me. "There is a difference between 'primping' and 'grooming'." I smirked. "Is it primping to have the stable hands clean and brush down Mina? Is it frivolous to have the blacksmith shod new shoes for her?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why is it a bad thing to keep one's beard trimmed and hair well groomed?"

He laughed. "You don't keep a beard."

"Granted, but my master did." I had a sudden flash of longing and loss. In the last couple years, Almidion's hands had shaken too much for him to shave himself. I had shaved him and combed his hair daily for nearly two years. It was a ritual I missed. I nodded to the other smaller chair. "Sit down over here."

Frowning, he moved the chair over and sat facing me. I rolled my eyes at his expression. He looked like I had just asked him to clean out the stables. I moved my chair and settled down behind him. He flinched as I lifted his hair from between his back and the chair. "Bourent, I'm not going to hurt you."

He didn't say anything, but his back was rigid with uncertainty. His hair was course and thick; like the rest of him. He had tried to get out the worst snarls with his fingers. He generally wore his hair tied back with a leather strap. I took the comb and started at the bottom. It was slow going, but I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and remembered the time Almidion had first combed out my hair. I breathed in the memory of the intimate trust, and the gentle care he took at the task. I did the same. It took nearly a half hour to comb out the snarls. The last six inches or so were a lost cause. The hair was broken, uneven and impossibly frayed. As I reached around Bourent for the scissors, and realized he had relaxed; his eyes were closed. I measured up about eight inches and cut. Bourent stiffened, but it was too late to stop. I finished the trim and quietly moved back around to his front.

He looked at me, his eyes unreadable, as I put the comb back on the desk. I studied his beard. It needed to be trimmed in the worst way. His beard was so full and unruly that the only real features of his face I could see were his hawkish nose and deep, piercing eyes. I wanted to see the face of the man who had saved me; I wanted to know who it was I was indebted to. I brought the scissors up and looked in his eyes to be sure he wouldn't flinch. He closed them and I began to trim back the untamed mess.

He had a strong jaw and pronounced chin. He also had sculpted cheek bones. It was surprising how much detail the beard hid. I trimmed down his cheeks and jaw to as close as I could with the scissors. I didn't know where the thought came from, but I could imagine him with a goatee. I shaped the goatee, bringing the hair away from his lips and formed it to accent his chin. It was then I realized that I had chosen a style I had seen in a painting of my master's. It was painted of my master and his life's companion. I blinked away the memory and took up the soap.

I lathered his face and brought the blade slowly across his cheek. He didn't flinch, but he was breathing painfully slowly. The whole shave took about a half hour to complete. I had spent an hour on him, trying to express my need to know him in the only way I knew that was safe. When I wiped away the last remnants of the soap and beard, I sat back. He wasn't handsome like Nathin, if you ignored the ears, but his features were striking. I was still studying his face as he opened his eyes. It took me a moment to realize he was trembling faintly.

He refused to look at the mirror. "Why?"

The simplicity of his question caught me. I frowned as I tried to give him an honest answer. "When I was here with Master Almidion, I was scared of the city. I clung to him like a second shadow. He sat me down, almost where you are now, and took the time to calm me by combing out my hair and cutting it. He spent the time to let me know that I was important." I shrugged uncomfortably. "I wanted to share something of that with you; I wanted to see your face."

His hair had dried a lot during the combing, trimming and grooming. It was amazing how much fuller it looked. Instead of it hanging heavily down his back, it now had waves and looked more like a mane. Slowly he turned to look at his reflection. I don't think he recognized himself. I had no way of knowing how long it had been since he had been clean shaven, possibly never. I left him to become acquainted with himself and had just changed into clean robes when Nathin knocked again.

He inclined his head when he entered. "Master Bellor has prepared an area of the tavern for you, Master Gaerlin." He flinched at my frown. "I'm sorry, but I just can't call you 'Gaerlin'. You aren't a boy any longer; when you were here before we had so much in common, now you're a wizard and I'm still a tavern helper. It isn't right." He wouldn't meet my eyes.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Nathin, you are my friend. You can call me Gaerlin, or Master Gaerlin or horse dung for all I care." His eyes locked onto mine with the last statement. "Please don't treat me like someone else. I still fetch and carry my own water and start fires like everyone else."

Bourent snorted. "You don't start fires like everyone else."

Nathin looked at Bourent and stared. The transformation was rather remarkable. After a moment he looked back at me. "You're just like Master Almidion."

I blinked. "What?"

His eyes held such warmth in them that I blushed. "He was the most caring man I ever met; gentle, giving and kind. I remember how he treated you; how he treated someone he considered a companion was something I never forgot. You've become just like him, Master Gaerlin." I could almost hear the unfinished part; he wished he had been lucky enough to be treated with the respect my master gave to everyone.

"Thank you, Nathin." My eyes were moist and I knew that I didn’t need to hide it from my oldest friend. "You don't know what that means to me."

He nodded, embarrassed and stepped out. "Your meal will be ready when you are, Master Gaerlin."

I felt Bourent watching me as I wiped my eyes. I had never cried until I met my master, not from joy or from pain; now I never seemed able to contain them. When I looked up, he had that "trying to understand you" look on his face. I flinched. "What?"

Scrutinized me with that piercing gaze for what felt like forever. Finally, his eyes softened and I felt like I could breathe again. "You really don't like feeling apart from your companions do you?"

I shook my head. "No. My master once told me that the loneliest you could ever be was not to be without people, but to be in the company of people you felt apart from." I finished synching my belt. "I want to be with people I can trust."

He came closer and studied my eyes. "And you trust me?"

I nodded. "I know I'm probably being foolish, but you saved me and have kept your word since the moment we met. I trust you with my life, Bourent. I have to; I don't have anyone else to depend upon." It was odd to think that a man so much shorter than myself could make me feel small. Yet he did. His head only came to my nose. I also couldn't understand how vulnerable I felt near him. He had seen me at my weakest and he had stayed and helped. It was an uncomfortable security that I wasn't willing to let go of.

"Then I will try to be worthy of your trust, Gaerlin. I'm not your equal, but if that is what you need, I will try to act as such."

I wanted to hug him, but didn't. I smiled instead. "Thank you, Bourent." That made me grin. "I say that a lot."

He actually smiled. It made his cheeks more pronounced and his eyes seemed to become brighter. "Yes, you do. It's one of the mysteries about you I'm still trying to understand."

"You'll have plenty of time to figure me out, Bourent." I couldn't help the small frown that forced its way onto my face. "If you could, please stop looking at me the way you do when you're 'trying to understand me'."

"I make no promises about my looks, Gaerlin." He turned and walked back to the bedroom to change for dinner. "But I will try not to make you any more uncomfortable than necessary."

All of the survivors of Seer's Watch desired to return to it. Even Olyn, who spoke only infrequently, expressed that desire. I could not deny them; I had also made a bargain with Bourent, which meant I couldn't return with them. After a week of discussion, meeting with merchants and tradesmen, and several sleepless nights of worry, I called Ellian, Maalin, Olyn, Belthora, Laon and Jaun to the suite. I had made a decision.

Bourent stood silently in the corner of the room and watched as I addressed my people. "We are too few to rebuild Seer's Watch without help. I have wrestled with the possibilities and ideas we have discussed and I've decided that Seer's Watch needs to change."

There were a few murmurs, but they simply waited for me to continue. "As far as I'm concerned, every one of you are 'Masters' of Seer's Watch. We have a sage, a seer, a librarian, two scribes and the best householder I have ever known." Belthora smiled at my praise and was good enough to meet my eyes. "We need people. We will need artisans and crafters of all types to repair and rebuild. We will need an incredible amount of supplies." I sighed and looked at my hands for a moment. "The hardest part is: I won't be returning with you."

The room was filled with denials and disbelief. I let them have their say as I sat, impassively, in my chair. When they had quieted, Ellian looked at me. "If you are not returning, why send us back at all?"

I looked from Ellian to Belthora. "How involved was Master Almidion in the daily life of Seer's Watch?"

She frowned. "Not very. He always helped and directed when we needed guidance, but he would spend months away maintaining alliances and recruiting new apprentices for the arts."

I nodded. "That is what I have to do. If I find the right people to return with you to Seer's Watch, they will do most of the work. I know no more about the making of windows, iron or furniture than the average person knows about magic. I need to call upon the strength of our alliances to provide us with the supplies and people we will need to rebuild."

Maalin looked at me significantly. "You do plan to return, eventually, Master Gaerlin?"

I nodded. "I have commitments to keep and alliances to maintain, Maalin. Once I have done that, I will come home." I tried to instill my trust in them with my sincerity. "I'm depending upon you to make sure I have a home to return to."

Olyn looked up. Her gaze had been on the floor since she'd come in. "You will return, Master Gaerlin. You will come back to us older, stronger and ready to carry the mantel of Lord of Seer's Watch." The conviction of her voice shook me. She was a seer, and a good one. She spoke from a sense of knowledge that could not be doubted. "We will be waiting."

Ellian sighed. "That answers that." She looked back at me. "I'm certain we can summon back a couple of the falcons. At least with them we can communicate with the outer world." She looked at her fellow masters and then back at me. "You've been talking with many people over the last week, Master Gaerlin. I assume you've been able to convince a few to help us?"

"I have a journeyman blacksmith who is ready to start his own forge, a couple journeyman carpenters and a master mason. Two merchants have agreed to provide regular supplies of food and materials. There isn't a glass blower or potter in Kessel's Claw with apprentices ready to head out on their own. I'll need to find them as I travel. I will also keep my eyes open for new students." That brought me to the idea of change that had come to me one of the sleepless nights since we'd arrived. "I will also be recruiting artists."

Laon blinked. "Artists?"

"We will need to offer more in trade than the simple tutoring and mentoring of merchant's sons and royal children. I suspect there will be a dearth of those for a while." They all knew that we would be blamed for the deaths of the students and apprentices from the wealthier households. "If we can foster creativity and invention, maybe Seer's Watch can become known for more than an enlightening of the mind. We could become a place that enlightens the spirit."

Maalin frowned. "No one will come when they hear of the slaughter, Master Gaerlin. We have no way of protecting them without you there."

I snorted. "Neither Almidion nor I were able to protect them before, Maalin. I plan to address that tomorrow."

Ellian raised an eyebrow. "How do you plan to do that?"

"I'm going to see Lord Storem. I have to assure him that a continued alliance with us is in his best interests."

Frowning, Ellian grimaced. "He has never honored the alliance in good faith, Master Gaerlin. With Master Almidion gone and the town destroyed, what reason will he have to help us?"

I shrugged. "I will find a way, Ellian. If necessary, I'll just have to remove the wards from the Tradewind's Bridge and let them care for it on their own."

That got a few murmurs from them. "That would ruin the livelihood of the people here, as well as disrupt or destroy the cross-mountain trade."

I knew all of that; I hoped Storem realized it as well. "Storem may not like our alliance, Ellian, but he will like it a lot less to find himself ruling a city without trade."

Belthora frowned. "Master Almidion would never approve."

The hot glare I shot her was harsher than I had intended. "I will probably have to do many things Master Almidion would not approve of Bel. Let me worry about how I will live with my decisions; you'll have enough to worry about when you get back to the tower."

That put an end to our gathering. I set them to the tasks of preparing for their return home. It was later that evening when I caught up with Belthora. I could not leave her thinking I was upset. "Bel?" She looked at me. Her eyes were wary but there was no anger there. "I'm sorry."

She pulled me down and kissed my cheeks. "I know, Master Gaerlin. You're just like Master Almidion." That was the second time someone had said that to me. She grinned at my look of surprise. "He never could stay angry with any of the householders. Usually, he would hunt down whom ever he had snapped at and apologized before the next meal. You have the same heart." She took my hands and squeezed him. "Be true to yourself, Master Gaerlin. Even if we do not agree with or understand your decisions, we trust you to do what is right."

I loved her so much. It was a shame that when I sent them back home, that would be the last time I would ever see her. I hugged her for a few moments before I let her go. "Bel, if I were to tell you there is someone I want you to take under your wing, would you do it?"

She grinned. "You want to ask Nathin to go with us." It was a statement and I was surprised she already knew.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"The way you treat him. He was your friend from when Master Almidion brought you here, wasn't he?"

I nodded. "He will never have a chance to be more than what he is, Bel. He has a good heart and a quick mind. At least at the tower he would be appreciated."

"If he wishes to come, Master Gaerlin, I will make certain he knows everything there is to know of running a household, if he has it in him."

That evening, I asked Nathin to stay after he had brought us new linens. "Nathin, do you like it here?"

He looked at me doubtfully. "This is all I've ever known, Master Gaerlin."

I nodded. "I know, but is this where you want to be?"

He bowed his head. "No."

"Would you be willing to leave?"

His eyes locked with mine. I could see the mixture of hope and fear in them. He wanted to leave, he had probably dreamed of it since he was a boy, but there was nothing for him to leave for. "Yes, Master Gaerlin, if there was someplace to go."

I swallowed. "My people will be returning to Seer's Watch soon, and we are few. Belthora, the head of my household, isn't young. She lost nearly everyone who could help her rebuild the tower. Would you consider going back and working with her to make my home a home again? It won't be easy, but you would be appreciated Nathin." I paused. "It would make me more comfortable knowing Bel has someone I can trust to help her."

His smile made me grin. "Yes, Master Gaerlin. If you need me, I'll go." He left the room, smiling ear to ear.

Bourent shook his head but grinned at me. "You have a friend for life there, you know that don't you?"

I nodded. "I need all the friends I can get. Not everyone will be so willing to help." That was an understatement.

Ellian walked to my right and a step behind as I strode into Lord Storem's audience chamber. Her raven hair was pulled back, putting a harsh edge to her sharp features. She wore a simple robe of blue and walked with a studied grace. Though Master Almidion had been the person to enter Seer's Watch into treaties, it was Ellian who had handled most of the details of the negotiations. I was thankful to have her with me.

Bourent walked to my left and a step behind. His sword hung at his hip and he wore the new breaches and tunic I had procured for him. He had objected to new clothing, but I would have nothing of it. I thought the forest green cloak was a vast improvement over the worn and tattered brown one he usually wore. Not to mention, the new one was reversible, allowing him either green or dark brown. He looked every part the woodlands warrior with his hair out full and sharpness in his eyes. Between the two of them, I felt secure.

Lord Storem did not rise when I came to stop a little over half way into the chamber. I stood nearly exactly where my master had seven years before. He looked at me as if I were an inconvenience. "Why are you here, Master Gaerlin, is Master Almidion unhappy with our tithes?"

"No, Lord Storem, Master Almidion is not." I planted the staff firmly and leveled my gaze at him. "I am here to request your aid."

His brows rose at my statement. "My aid?"

"Master Almidion is dead. I am here to assure you that the magics that have protected the Tradewind Bridge will not wane. We still maintain our bargain." I let that sink in for a moment. "The aid I seek is your protection for my people."

He eyed me suspiciously. "And why would you need my protection, Master Gaerlin." I noticed that he did not react as others had to Almidion's death. I could almost see him calculating how he could put that information to use.

"We need soldiers, my lord. I need as many as twenty, to function as guards for Seer's Watch."

He snorted. "Have your magics failed you, young wizard, that you can't protect your own people?"

Like my master before me, my smile leveled to a small frown. I too tapped the floor with the staff and I felt the wave of power ripple outward. I was actually angry, where Almidion had simply been making a point, people were pushed back, items were knocked from tables and shelves, and the windows wavered but did not break. I held my temper and the ripples subsided.

"Why I choose to make use of guards is my own concern, Lord Storem. If you will not furnish them, I shall go elsewhere. The long standing alliance between Seer's Watch and Kessel's Claw made you the most logical choice. If you have no interest, then I have wasted my time."

"I have not said I am not interested, Master Gaerlin. I simply do not believe that our present oaths dictate that I must furnish you with armed guards."

I had already known that. If we were to enlist his aid, we would need to strike a new bargain. "I was aware of that, Lord Storem. I desire procure them by exchange of services or by direct payment if necessary. I would rather have an ally protecting my people than mercenaries."

He frowned. One of his best sources of income was the hiring out of trained guardsmen for protection of merchant shipments. Kessel's Claw had a well respected training academy. In the last couple years, a couple new providers of protection had begun to inroads into the business.

"I am certain the knowledge that Seer's Watch depends upon the Guardsmen of Kessel would be of benefit to both of us." Ellian had made sure to point out that Seer's Watch was well respected and anyone we chose to work with would have their own reputation furthered as a result.

That got his attention. "Let me think on this, Master Gaerlin. I shall send word as soon as I have an answer."

I inclined my head respectfully. "Thank you, Lord Storem." We left knowing that this would not be an easy negotiation.

He did send word the following day; his proposal was outrageous. I sent Ellian back with a counter proposal. She was the best suited to handle the negotiations. I had other things to worry about. The negotiations went on for over a week without much progress. I had arranged about everything I could in Kessel's Claw. It was time for me to move on, but I couldn't leave without resolution of the protection issue.

I watched as everyone but Jaun, Laon and Ellian left with the first group of artisans and supplies bound for Seer's Watch. Bourent was getting restless. It was already mid-autumn and we would need to leave soon in order to beat the snows. After two more days of having Ellian return with only words of bitterness toward Storem, I was beside myself.

"I can't believe he is being so obstinate!" Actually, I could. His terms were worse than highway robbery.

Ellian nodded, clearly even more frustrated that I was. "If only we could just negotiate with Master Tobias. He sees the benefit of this, everyone does but Storem. He seems to have a personal need to do anything short of break the alliance to make us squirm." She put her face in her hands. "He controls the Guardsmen, therefore we can do nothing but negotiate with him."

Laon looked from her to me with a surprised grin. "No, he doesn't."

My ears perked up at his tone. "What do you mean, he doesn't?"

"Technically, the training academy is autonomous from his control. The royal family provides them the charter to teach, and the academy building itself. Anyone who graduates from it, because they get their training on the state's gold, is sworn to work for the royal family for five years. After that, they are free to do as they please."

Ellian groaned. "I don't see how that helps."

Jaun shook his head. "We've been talking with some of the academy scribes. Master Tobias is not pleased with the arrangement. He has been trying to renegotiate the terms for years. He wants to drop the required service to three years. Also, anyone who drops out must either pay five gold crowns for his room and board, or serve for a year."

I grinned. "How unhappy is he?"

Laon smirked. "Very. Apparently, he has no more love for Lord Storem than we have."

"How many students to they have?"

"Fifty-two at present."

"Two-hundred and sixty gold crowns." I looked at Ellian. "I wonder if Master Tobias might be interested in relocating."

Her smile lit the room. "Well, Master Gaerlin, you did want to broaden what Seer's Watch was known for."

"I suppose it's time to talk to Master Tobias in private." To my surprise, Master Tobias answered my query immediately. Ellian and I met with him that evening for dinner. I was amazed at how open he was to our proposal.

Destiny's Season - Chapter 04

2008-10-26T04:31:54Z

We spent two weeks in Kessel's Claw. By the time we left, Nathin was a friend for life. He was a couple years older but our difference in status seemed to even that out. I realized that other than Master Almidion, Nathin was the first friend I had ever had. It hurt to leave, but such was my life for the next year. My master and I traveled, renewing alliances and forming new ones. I had never realized the world was so large. None of it, however, prepared me for my first sight of Seer's Watch.

The morning started like any other. I rose first, rekindled the fire and packed most of the necessities before my master woke. I had his tea ready and had cooked the second rabbit from the night before. Master Almidion had smiled more with each day that week. Before we started, master pulled out his grooming kit.

"Come, Gaerlin, we have been remiss as of late." He sat on a fallen tree and spread out the kit. I smiled. If you had asked me the year before what I thought of grooming, I would have said it was a waste of time. But Almidion made it more a labor of love than a tedious task. I had learned to comb his hair and keep it trimmed; he had even taught me how to shave, though I still had no need to do so myself. I thought it was a profound trust for him to hand a long blade to a twelve-year-old boy, and allow me to use it on his face and neck.

I also loved to be groomed. My master took such simple pleasure in the act that I would never deny him. If I had been honest with myself, I'd have admitted that the innocent intimacy of grooming was something I longed for. I sat in front of him and let him brush my hair, then reshape it; he only trimmed it about once a week but he brushed it nearly daily. I carefully removed his three-day beard, combed and braided his hair, and put away the kit. Mornings spent grooming always made the day seem softer and more pleasant.

It was nearly midday when we made the first bend from which you could see the great tower. Master was describing the nature of air and its movements, when my eyes fell upon the granite spire. It rose like an elegant column from the very cliffs; twisting and flowing in delicate curves, the tower was unlike anything I had seen before or since. In a word, it was magical. I stopped, my mouth open like a maw, as I beheld the beauty of the sight.

Almidion chuckled and made a sweeping gesture toward Seer's Watch. "Gaerlin, welcome home."

I blinked. "Home, master?"

Smiling, he pointed to the third tier of windows that dotted the distant tower. "See the windows, three tiers up?"

I nodded.

"Those are your rooms."

"Mine?"

"Indeed, five in all, an entire level."

I counted the tiers and made a guess that the tower was over twenty levels. "Which is yours master?"

"Ah," he pointed, "I live on the fourth and fifth." Chuckling, he patted my shoulder. "Why a man should need so much space, I do not know."

By the time we made it to the tower wall gates, word had arrived of my master's return; a small group of people was at the gate. At the front was a small, rotund woman with a jolly face and graying, auburn hair. She lifted her hands and took Almidion's in a fond welcome. "Master Almidion, we are so pleased to see you."

He smiled. "Belthora, you look as lovely as always." Bending low, he kissed her cheek. He stood back and put his hand on my shoulder. "May I introduce, Master Gaerlin."

Belthora's eyes lit with delight as she looked from my master to me. "You have found one?"

My master beamed. "Yes, finally, an apprentice to carry on the Line of Moreldor."

I blushed. My master had made it clear over the past year that though many people could learn passably good magic, few had the potential to become a true wizard. Though he was certain of my potential, I was not convinced. I had vowed to myself, however, to be the best apprentice I could.

Belthora lifted her hands and I took them. She kissed me on both cheeks with the broadest of smiles. "Welcome home, Master Gaerlin."

I was introduced to the other four people whom had come to greet us. The eldest was Jonas; he was the head librarian. The other man was Lauos; he was the master scribe for Seer's Watch. The tall woman was Uhla Taor; she was the Seer Adept. I had no idea what a "Seer Adept" was, but it sounded important. The last and youngest of the group was Ellian; she was Sage Magnus. Again, I had no idea what a "Sage Magnus" was, but it was an impressive title. Belthora, I came to learn, was the head of the household staff of the tower.

My first glimpse of the great hall left me speechless. I marveled at the mosaic floor, gilded tapestries and opulent furnishings for hours. My master retired to his rooms before I had finished exploring that single room. I never dreamed, in the many times I had fallen asleep in that hall, that it would be the place where I lost the one person I loved more than life itself. My master had been my life; it would be the hardest thing I had ever done, to carry on without him.

It took us nearly two weeks to catch up with the goblins. During those weeks I tried several spells for divining the location of people or things, but something blocked me. I had been so unsure as to whether I had done the spell right after the second failure that I cast a spell to locate my master's broken bed; the knowledge came to me instantly.

Bourent studied my reaction to my third attempt to divine the location of the goblins. I had been particularly bad tempered for a couple days and the latest failure had me ready to destroy something. He simply handed me a skewered, roasted rabbit after I had put away my tools. "Is it possible to shield someone from divinations?"

I grumbled spitefully as I chewed on the rabbit. "Of course, but I never imagined goblins having the skill to do so."

He chewed on his own rabbit for a moment before continuing with his questions. "Did Seer's Watch have wards and protective divination spells?"

I nodded, biting off another piece of meat. "Yes. They should have turned aside the goblins, or at the very least they should have warned us of danger."

"But they didn't."

"No." I was feeling a little sick. "The goblins were at the doors to the great hall before we even knew they were there." I put the rabbit aside; I'd lost my appetite. I set my face in my hands and tried to figure out what I was going to do.

After a few minutes, I felt Bourent's hands on my shoulders. "It wasn't your fault, Gaerlin." I was so thankful he had stopped calling me "Master Gaerlin," after a couple days of asking him to. "If they could get past the wards set by masters before you, no one can fault your skill for being unable to locate them now." His fingers slowly kneaded my neck and shoulders. It felt so good. I moaned softly as his fingers worked the headache out.

After I felt like my shoulders would melt off my bones, I reached up and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Bourent."

He grunted and moved to strip the remaining meat from our rabbits. I smiled to myself as he set about his tasks. There was a certain acknowledging tone in his grunt that I had come to accept as his way of saying "you're welcome, and stop thanking me" all in one sound. The only mannerism of his I didn't understand was that look that would distort his face whenever he was trying to "understand me." I hated that look; it made me feel uncomfortable and unworthy all at the same time.

The last two nights of tracking, we went without fires. It was after dark when Bourent returned to our camp with a grim look upon his face. "They are about a mile ahead."

My stomach twisted at the thought of the impending confrontation. "How many?"

"Thirty goblins and twelve captives."

I was horrified. "Twelve?"

He nodded. "How many had there been?"

I swallowed. "Including myself, thirty-two."

"Blessed Mara…" He didn't need to say anything more. The revulsion in his voice said it all.

I stood slowly, and adjusting the pack. My grip tightened on the staff as I thought of how I wanted to handle the goblins.

"We can't possibly kill thirty goblins, Gaerlin. I could fight five or seven at most; that assumes they have no archers."

"They have archers, Bourent. I know that we can't fight them. All I need to know is: can you get me close and get me one goblin unnoticed?"

His eyes studied mine for a few moments before he answered. "Yes."

"Then we're just going to walk right in and take my people back." I knew what I would do. The idea was sickening, but I no longer cared about whether I used magic to help or harm. The goblins had waged war on a wizard's sanctum. They would come to learn the grave mistake they had made.

"Gaerlin, that is insane."

"No, it is exactly how wizards do battle." I could see his confusion. "The reason no one does battle with a wizard is: if we are prepared, we are nearly unstoppable." I frowned. "The goblins caught us unprepared. They were able to get around our protections. They don't have that advantage any more."

He nodded grimly. "Ok, but you'll do what I say ‘til I've brought back the goblin." My nod set him in motion. He paused briefly before leading me into the darkness. "Does the goblin have to be alive?"

"No."

I had enjoyed everything I had learned about magic ‘til my master taught me of some of the darker uses it could be put to. It wasn't that I was squeamish, but I had come to see magic as a joy; to know that magic could be as terrifying as it was beautiful, took some of the innocence from me.

I looked at the rat in the cage with a sense of impending doom. "Master, are you sure?"

He nodded. He did not look at all pleased. "I will not lie to you, Gaerlin. I do not find this aspect of magic pleasant. Other than in the most dire of circumstances I have not used magic to harm others." He looked at the rat with resignation. "Rats, however, eat our supplies and spread disease. Though we have cats, the rats have multiplied too quickly this year."

Swallowing, I brought my hands over the cage. "Will it hurt, master?"

He smiled. "The rats will only feel the change for a moment, Gaerlin. The transition from living to dead is always jarring but not necessarily painful."

I closed my eyes and worked the magic. I didn't find it pleasant either.

Bourent appeared from the darkness as silent as a shadow. On his shoulders he carried the body of a goblin. It was still warm as he laid the corpse before me. "Ok, you have your goblin. I hope you know what you're doing."

I nodded. "I do." I realized that what I was about to do would be terrifying to anyone. Once Bourent saw what I could do, I wasn't sure he would be willing to associate with me again. Some things were best left unknown. I clasped his shoulder before me moved away. "Bourent?"

He looked at me oddly. I think he heard my desperation in my voice. "What?"

"If you can, please don't hate me after this." I think that caught him off guard. I think it also drove home just how horrible I thought what I was about to do would be. He nodded and pulled back.

I had prepared the space for the spell. The circle was drawn in the earth and my tools were ready. If I had not had the staff, the power of the spell might have incapacitated me. Thirty goblins were a lot of beings to kill with a single spell.

I knelt beside the goblin corpse and lifted my right hand over its chest while gripping the staff tightly in my left. "Taibhse or bas, glac an beatha or mo namhaid." I felt the power flow from me like a surge of flame. It poured into the corpse as I shaped the spell. "Sruth ina ceo, agus maraigh mo namhaid." I felt the magic transform the corpse as it obeyed my will. The body dissolved, swirling into a greenish mist that crept away into the darkness. I held the image of the goblins in my mind and waited. The spell was over in less than five minutes. I felt the magic wane as it fulfilled its purpose.

Bowing my head, I sighed. "Let's free my people."

Bourent frowned. "Just like that?"

Nodding, I put my items away and shoulder my pack. "Just like that."

He followed me cautiously as I walked, unconcerned about the noise, toward the goblin camp. Realizing I didn't need to stumble in the dark, I lifted the staff. "Solas." The pure luminance of mage light filled the air. As we came closer to the camp, the evidence of my magic became clear.

It did not matter whether it had been on patrol, or in the camp, every goblin was dead. They had died almost instantly; their corpses had collapsed where death had claimed them. The only living beings were Bourent, me, and the twelve survivors of the attack. They were bound, gagged and looked ill and abused. They wouldn't have survived many more days.

Bourent checked several goblins as I wove my way to my people. He looked up at me in horror. "They're all dead?"

I grunted. "The ones in the area."

He stood looking around at the dead. There were no marks; no evidence of what had killed them. Bourent looked pale. "I didn't know wizards could do that."

I looked back and frowned. "We can do worse."

I recognized all the survivors. My heart nearly burst as my eyes met Belthora's. The gratitude in them brought me to my knees before her. I raised my hand and gestured at my friends."Scaoil." Ropes and gags loosened and fell from them. Whimpers, gasps and sighs were my reward.

Belthora wrapped her arms about me. "Master Gaerlin, bless the spirits." Though weak from abuse and the march, her grip on me was surprisingly strong.

Putting my hands on her cheeks, I traced the bruises and scrapes that marred her motherly beauty. She was probably the strongest person I had ever known. No problem was too large, or trial too great for her to overcome. I felt the tears on my cheeks, and my voice cracked. "I'm sorry…"

She shushed me. "You're alive, and you found us."

"Not soon enough." I looked at the twelve of them. Of nearly a hundred people who lived at Seer's Watch, masters of lore and knowledge, good caring people, thirteen remained. Of the masters, only Ellian had survived. She looked beaten and worn, but her eyes burned with determination. Maalin, the second librarian, had been beaten and it looked like one of his arms was broken. Olyn, Uhla Taor's apprentice, looked vacant and hollow. The twins, Laon and Jaun, looked battered. The remaining survivors were Kyna, Talmas, Reise, Arman, Valai, and Pym. One Sage, one librarian, one seer, two scribes, and seven householders were all who were left of our people. A village entirely dedicated to the pursuits of knowledge and art, gone.

Ellian came to me as I stood. "Thank you, Master Gaerlin."

They were all looking at me for direction. I was the last of the Line of Moreldor. I looked back at Bourent. Up ‘til that moment, he had made the decisions. "Where are we?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Two days walk from the Trade Winds Bridge."

"That puts us almost three days from Kessel's Claw." I looked at my people. "Can you bear the night here?" Everyone nodded reluctantly, except Olyn; the hollow look in her eyes worried me. She barely responded to anything.

Belthora gave me a sad look and squeezed my arm. "I will see to Olyn, Master Gaerlin. You help the others."

I nodded. "Thank you, Bel." She went over to Olyn while I looked to Bourent. "Could you deal with the bodies? Maybe they have something that aided them. I need to know. Anything, a small amulet or article of clothing that they all share, potions, tattoos, any of those could do it if invested with magic."

He frowned. "I'll deal with it; you help them." He paused. "I've got to get Mina."

Before he got out of camp, I caught up with him. "Bourent?"

His eyes met mine. It was that same expression I had come to hate. It made me flinch. "You're trying to figure me out again."

He shrugged and the look softened. "I'm just trying to reconcile what I've seen with the person I've been with for nearly three weeks."

I think he saw the sadness in my eyes. I had feared he would treat me differently; it hurt to find my fears weren't unfounded.

He gripped my shoulder for a moment. "I'm not leaving. We have an agreement."

I nodded. "Once my people are safe."

"We'll see them to safety, Gaerlin. I promise." He vanished into the darkness as silent as a shadow.

I turned back to the camp and studied my people for a moment. Olyn's mental state was the most concerning of the things I could see. That, however, was something I had no way of dealing with. I hoped Belthora would be able to help. Of the initial injuries, Maalin's arm was the most severe. He cradled it tenderly as he sat closer to the fire.

He looked up at me as I came over to him. He was twenty-two, intelligent and creative. I knew he would have been the next Head Librarian. His eyes were filled with pain, but they also held equal amounts of awe and gratitude. "You killed them, didn't you Master?"

I cringed at the idea that someone four years older than myself would call me "master" in the way I used to use the word for Almidion. I knelt beside him. "Yes, Maalin."

He nodded and he looked back at his shattered arm. It was broken in at least four places, his fingers were twisted. Someone had had fun with him with a hammer or club. "I wish they had felt more pain."

I cringed. My choice had been the most painless, impersonal way to kill the goblins. I could have done worse, made it last, caused them to suffer; I could have made it last days if I chose. I didn't have that in me. What I did have in me was to help Maalin. "Maalin, will you let me heal you?"

He stared, his eyes searching mine. "Can you, master?"

"Yes," I knew I could do it, but it wasn't going to be easy or pleasant. "Maalin, how old are the wounds?"

He shuddered. "Some only a day or two, others are almost two weeks old."

It was my turn to shudder. "Maalin… I'll have to break them again." His pale look made me sick. I could see the horror in his face. "They have already set, wrong. The magic can't heal something that is already 'healed'."

He knew that he would never have use of the arm again, and might even lose it. Setting his jaw, he looked directly into my soul. "Will I have my arm and hand back?"

I nodded. "I promise, Maalin, if I couldn't do it, I wouldn't have asked." I slowly stood. "I can do it if you decide you want me to. The longer the bones are fused, the harder it will be."

Ellian had moved to us while we were talking. She knelt down beside Maalin. "I had to have it done once, Maalin." She patted her leg. "Fell from a horse while traveling. Master Almidion had to do the same thing when they got me back to Seer's Watch."

He chewed on his lower lip for a few moments, and then nodded. "Can you do it now, Master, before I change my mind?"

I looked at Ellian. "Can you get a piece of leather for him to bite down on?"

She nodded and left to find something that would work. Maalin's eyes were full of fear as I had him lay down and I put a folded goblin blanket under his head. Ellian came back with a goblin belt. "This should do."

I knelt down beside Maalin as Ellian put a length of belt between his teeth. He bit down, and she took his good hand. "I won't let go, Maalin. You can hold on as hard as you need."

I lay the staff along side him. Putting one hand on his mutilated arm, I gripped the staff with the other and then focused. "Maalin, I will have to cast two spells. The first will break the arm; the second will heal it." I closed my eyes, regretting the pain I was about to cause. "Briseadh cnamh or an geag agus lamh."

There was the sickening sound of bones popping and flesh twisting. My eyes watered at Maalin's strangled scream as he bit into the leather. His whole body convulsed as all the bones that had been fractured, broke. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused. I was already sending forth the second spell. "Leigheas an geag agus lamh."

I could feel the shivers from his body as the magic restructured and repaired his arm. It was almost gut churning to feel the flesh under my palm flow back into place. Maalin was whimpering as he rolled to Ellian. She held his head in her lap as he cried. I had to get away from them. I knew what I had done was necessary, but the suffering was more than I could bear. I leaned against a tree, taking slow deep breaths, when the twins found me. They were a couple of years younger than me.

"Master Gaerlin?" Laon's soft voice wavered.

I pulled myself together and turned to them. I'd always liked the twins. They were my friends. They'd even helped translate spells from old texts when I couldn't figure the script out. They were brilliant. "Yes, Laon?"

"Will we be going home?"

I let my head drop as I sighed. "I don't know, Laon. We will discuss that after we get safely to Kessel's Claw."

"Master?" Jaun looked at me, tears in his eyes, "Please let us go home."

I shuddered. "Of course, Jaun, I don't know if we could rebuild Seer's Watch anyway."

Jaun looked like he was going to collapse. I pulled him into my arms and let him cry. The twins were short, wiry lads. Loan hugged Jaun from behind and I wondered how I would survive the grief. "Master," Jaun's voice was just above a whisper, "Seer's Watch is home. Please, let us go home."

I looked up to see several of the others looking at me. I swallowed and cleared my throat as I met their eyes. "Is that what you want?"

There were nods and small affirmative sounds from all of them. My eyes clouded with tears. I hadn't realized that my home was just as dear to them as it had been to me. I nodded solemnly. "Then I will find a way, I promise."

I wasn't able to sleep that night. I sat up for hours listening to the forest. I was not so consumed with my thoughts, though, to miss small, high pitched grunting sounds. Following the sounds, I came to where we had piled the corpses. Bourent had stripped them of all items of possible value or use. He'd found a couple things that he wasn't sure what they were; I wasn't in the right frame of mind to examine them that night. He kept them for me.

Amongst the corpses I found Olyn. She had a dagger in her hand and she was mutilating a goblin's corpse. Looking carefully, I saw two others that had been stabbed and mutilated. I suddenly realized what had happened to her. I didn't know how I kept from being ill. I moved to her slowly, kneeling down as she paused her stabbing into the dead meat. Her eyes weren't empty any more; they burned.

Carefully, I brought my hands to cover hers on the hilt. If I had been faster, stronger, better, she would never have been brutalized by the beasts. She looked at me as I lifted the blade with her, the lowered it again, pushing it into the corpse as I held her gaze. "Olyn." She shook. I didn't take the blade. "I can never undo this. I can never take away the pain." Tears rolled down my cheeks. "I can never make it right; I failed you, and I'm so sorry."

We simply sat on the corpses, staring at each other, for a long, long time.

Bourent looked at me as I stared out at the sunset. I hadn't said much since the morning we began our trek toward Kessel's Claw. Tomorrow we would cross the Trade Wind Bridge and descend from the mountains to Kessel's Claw.

We no longer had to set up the camp. In fact, the householders wouldn't let us. The moment we chose to stop, they took over the task of unpacking, setting up the tarpaulins, starting the fire and cooking whatever we had been able to catch that day. Because the autumn nights were getting colder, we all slept with partners. It was assumed that Bourent and I, as the leaders, were to be put together. I hadn't thought Bourent would accept being next to me, but he said nothing about it.

"So the stones were the cause?" He looked at one of the thirty simple stone pendants we had recovered from the goblin corpses.

I nodded. "They are dark stone, which is a natural grounding stone for mystical energies. Someone enchanted them." I frowned at the stone in his hand. "I don't know how yet. Ellian, with Olyn's assistance, could figure it out." Olyn was not doing well. She was no longer unresponsive, but she was still distant and internalized.

"So anyone who wears one of the pendants would be able to slip past wards and hide from divination?"

"To the best I can tell, yes." I eyed him. "Yes, I've kept a few for myself too."

He looked back at the sunset. "We'll be to Kessel's Claw tomorrow."

"It will be good for them to have some time in real beds. Clean clothes, good food, and people to interact with." I noticed something in his eyes. I wasn't sure what it was, so I put it aside.

As we got to the bridge the next morning, we met up with a small merchant caravan. At first they were going to continue past us, but when a wizard steps into the road and plants his staff before you, you stop and take notice. My people had walked far enough.

Bourent became increasingly tense the closer we got to Kessel's Claw. I could feel the tension in his back as we rode. When we were about a half hour, by caravan, from the gates, I asked Bourent to bring us beside the lead wagon.

"Master Jolen?"

The head merchant nodded to me. "Yes, Master Gaerlin?"

"We will ride ahead to secure lodging. Would you please bring my people to the Sparrow's Nest?"

He nodded, and we be rode ahead.

Once we were well ahead of the wagons, I leaned in. "What's bothering you, Bourent?"

I felt his shoulders lock and from my angle I could see he'd clenched his jaw. It took a few moments before he spoke. "I have a problem with cities."

I knew there were people who had difficulties with crowds and high places and other such things. "Will you be alright?"

He shrugged. "Kessel's Claw really isn't a large city, or so I've heard."

"It isn't," I assured him, "It is more like an extremely large town with a keep and defensive walls."

He nodded. "Then I should be fine."

"I'm glad." In truth, his presence kept me calm. Except for when he was trying to "understand me", I found that having him near made me feel secure. It was possible the effects of gratitude or possibly a mild form of hero worship. I suspect I transferred some of my need to be protected, that Almidion had fulfilled, to him. It wasn't fair to Bourent.

He took a slow, deep breath as we came into view of the city gates. The fate of Seer's Watch would be decided inside the walls of Kessel's Claw. I did not realize at the time that my own fate would be decided as well.

Destiny's Season - Chapter 03

2008-10-17T17:26:39Z

Almidion chuckled as I fidgeted with my new tunic. "Come out here, Gaerlin, and let me look at you." I came out, reluctantly, and stood just inside the door. I had never worn clothes that felt so fine. They were solid, but soft; clothes that were simply tailored, but made with small embellishments like complimentary colored trim and solid brass eyelets. I felt like I shouldn't brush against anything for fear of soiling them.

"Master, these are too fine." My discomfort wasn't that I was exposed in any way, but that I simply wasn't worth the expense and effort.

"Hah," he smiled at me as I pulled at the hem of the tunic, "You worry far too much about what you are or are not worthy of, Gaerlin. It is my money; I will not have my apprentice dressed in clothing unbecoming of his station." He turned to the mirror and straightened his own very fine robes.

I had been called his apprentice all week. I still did not know what it truly meant. "Master Almidion?"

He cocked his head, looking at me in the mirror. "Yes?"

"What does that mean?" I looked back at him feeling stupid. "I know what an apprentice is. You can apprentice as a blacksmith, or a carpenter, or a cobbler. If you were one of those I would know what was expected of me." I looked at the floor. "I've never known a wizard before. I've heard the tales, but you aren't anything like what they describe."

He was grinning at me as he turned around. "What would you want of me then, young Master Gaerlin? Should I be grand, walk with flames rising from my eyes, and smite the wicked with but an utterance of my voice?"

I shrugged and scuffed my boot on the carpet. "No, sir. I would probably have fled if you were like that."

He chuckled and lifted my chin. "So would I." Those warm, ever caring grey eyes eased my fears, but did not answer my doubts. He seemed to know that, and smiled. "A wizard is simply someone who can work a little magic, and knows a great deal about everything else. Magic is the easy part, Gaerlin. When you finally learn it, you will wonder why you couldn't do it all along. Knowing how and when to use it; knowing why it is better at times not to; knowing about people, places and things; that is the strength and power of wizards. All the flash and ceremony is meaningless without knowledge and understanding."

I smiled. "Like when you asked me what I saw in the river?"

His smile lit his face, and his eyes sparkled. "Exactly." He brushed an errant lock from my forehead. "Wizards see the world slightly askew from normal people, Gaerlin. We don't accept things 'at face value'. Never lose that desire to look below the surface; it is what makes life magical." With that he extended his hand toward his staff and evoked. "Tar go mise."

As far as I'd known, Almidion had never cast a spell in my presence. Up to that moment, I thought the backpack was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. I stared in awe as the ancient wood soared from the corner, over the chair and into his outstretched hand. It was years later before I realized he used little magics to help me while we were on our journey home.

He turned, and winked at me. "I admit, my boy, that magic can be a great deal of fun."

I woke bundled in blankets. The fire was crackling softly and filled the area with a warm, orange light. Bourent appeared by my side as I tried to sit up. My head throbbed.

"Slowly; you hit your head when you fell." His voice was soft, and full of concern.

Memories of what I'd said came back, and I couldn't meet his eyes. I studied my hands for a moment. "I'm sorry, Bourent. You didn't deserve my behavior towards you."

He was frowning at me when I chanced to look at him. He just shook his head and went over to the cooking skin. "I don't understand you."

I shrugged and slowly pulled myself out of the blankets. I felt stiff. "What is there to understand? I'm tired, cranky, aching and bruised beyond belief. It may not entitle me to yell at you, but it is easy to understand."

"That isn't what confuses me." He ladled out some soup and brought it to me.

I cocked my head. "What is it then?"

He shrugged. "You aren't what I expected for a wizard." I almost spit my soup as he said it. He frowned. "Too hot?"

I started laughing. "No, the soup is fine." I set down the bowl and smiled, tears leaking from my eyes. "That's exactly what I said to Master Almidion when I found out he was a wizard." Laughing made my ribs hurt and I tried to stop. The earlier emotional outburst, and the fall, had left me a bit punchy. I giggled like a lunatic, punctuating my spasms with "ow" as I tried to keep from pulling a rib.

Bourent was not amused. He watched patiently as I recovered my self composure. When I finally stopped whimpering, "ow," he continued. "I met Almidion when I was a boy. He came to Imsen when I was six." He looked at me as if comparing me to his memory of my master. "He stood tall, and strong. Though he didn't display it, his power was so strong you could almost touch it."

I was disheartened by the realization that I fell so short of my master's reputation. I had so much to live up to, and I wasn't ready. "I'm sorry I don't measure up to your expectations." I took up my bowl sipped the broth in silence. I tried to avoid Bourent's frown.

"Why do you assume I think ill of you?"

I shrugged. "Not much for you to think of me otherwise. I couldn't even protect myself from goblins; why should you think of me as anything but a weak excuse for a man?" The self-pity sat upon my shoulders, crushing me. I suspected I might have been on the verge of depression, but I didn't care. I had never believed I could honor Almidion's faith in me; I had certainly lived up to my own expectations.

After another period of uncomfortable silence, I couldn't stand his dark eyes looking at me from across the fire. Taking one of the blankets, I moved from the tarpaulin and stretched out near the fire. I rolled to my side, facing away from him and the fire light. "Good night, Bourent."

"Why did you do that?"

I didn't roll over. "You slept out here last night; you get the dry spot tonight."

I knew he watched me for quite a while. I could feel his eyes on my back as I struggled to get to sleep. Finally, he moved to his own blankets, and I slipped away into a restless slumber.

I woke before dawn began to illuminate the mountains. I ached worse than the night before and I would have killed for a hot bath. Once I had rekindled the fire, without using magic, I sat and watched Bourent as he slept. I could not understand why the man made me feel so insecure. He was shorter than I was by nearly half a foot and certainly not more educated or capable. Yet something about him was "masculine"; he was solid, strong, and determined. He was, at that moment, everything I was not. He was not particularly handsome. His long brown hair was ragged, his features were harsh, he had a hawkish nose, and his beard was like the matted coat of an unshorn sheep. Yet his eyes could cut through me with disconcerting ease. I pondered his eyes while I waited for him to awaken.

He woke, shuttering slightly as his awareness returned, and noticed me watching him. The subtle frown returned to his lips. That, I think, hurt more than I was willing to admit. He did not frown when he slept. Of all his features, his lips looked soft and pleasant when he was asleep. When he woke and saw me, those lips went as hard as his cheeks, and deep brows. He noticed the fire and hot water soon after he sat up. "How did you sleep?"

I shrugged. "The usual for sleeping on ground that is cold, wet and hard." I tried to meet his eyes; they were hidden by the shadows on his face, but I could still feel them. "I suppose I'll have to get used to it."

Stretching, he pulled out of his blankets and came over to the fire. "Why?"

"Unless our agreement has changed, we shall be journeying to find my people and then we will continue on to Imsen." I ladled out some tea and proffered him the cup. "Imsen is what, over three months ride?"

He nodded. "Yes." He was looking at me in that way that made me feel exposed.

"Why do you look at me like that?" I tried to match his stare, but I just couldn't.

He shrugged. "I am trying to understand you."

Standing, I brushed myself off. "When you figure me out, let me know. I could use a few answers these days."

To my surprise, he looked up at me and his eyes looked slightly less harsh. After a moment, he nodded. "I will." He finished his tea and started packing the camp.

Seer's Watch came into view shortly after noon as we came around the bend. My heart sank as I took in the devastation. Half the village had burned to the ground. The half that remained was mostly shells or husks of buildings. The tower looked as if it had been pulled from the pits. It stood, silent and foreboding, with the scars of fire spread in black soot against the stones. Birds circled in unpleasant numbers. They were carrion eaters, and I knew what they feasted upon.

We rode slowly between the empty buildings; corpses littered sporadically along our path. If it hadn't been for the constant breeze, the air would have been thick with the smell of rotting flesh. Even with the breeze, the stench was more than unpleasant. I didn't need to look closely; I knew almost everyone who had lived in the village. Tears blurred my vision as Mina plodded carefully through the wreckage and came to a stop before the steps of the tower. My home; it looked as empty as I felt. I slid off the mare unsteadily and slowly ascended the stairs.

Bourent was beside me before I had made it to the great doors. They stood partially open. The wood was charred, but had survived the goblins' attempts at destruction. I felt Bourent's hand on my arm. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, and pulled from his grip. "No, but that doesn't matter." I dreaded what lay beyond those doors. My dread did not stop me from stepping through. My gaze fell on the burnt remains of my master. His body lay crumpled, broken and burnt on the mosaic of the great hall. The twelve steps I made to his body were the most difficult I had ever taken. I sank to my knees beside the corpse, and shook as the truth finally tore out my heart. My protector, the man who had been more a father to me than the tavern owner who'd sired me, was gone. His smile would no longer be there to lift my spirits; his voice would not be able to reveal little truths; his hands would never sooth away my fears. I was alone, and from the depths of it my soul wept.

I stared in wonder at the reception hall of the Lord Storem, Ruler of Kessel's Claw. Lord Storem's keep was well maintained and furnished for a minor noble, but it wasn't anything worth such youthful amazement. Still, I was eleven and completely overwhelmed.

Master Almidion strode, with me trembling at his side, slowly into the great chamber. Lord Storem looked anything but pleased as we came to stop about ten feet from his throne. "Master Almidion; how nice of you to answer my summons."

My master inclined his head. "Your message indicated some urgency so I have traveled with all due haste."

Lord Storem snorted. "Six months is haste to you, Master Almidion?"

Instead of being insulted by the noble's tone, my master smiled. "My legs do not move as swiftly as they once did, Lord Storem. The last time I was within the walls of Kessel's Claw, you were a playing with wooden swords in the practice yard."

"The matter was of dire need, Almidion." Storem's eyes burned with barely contained outrage.

"I see that you managed quite well without my presence, my lord."

Storem rose, his voice trembling with frustration. "I should have you thrown in the stocks old man! You gave an oath to this family!"

For the first time, my master's smile dipped to an even but subtle frown. "That, young lord, would be unwise." He tapped his staff on the floor and the room shuddered. A wave of force rippled out from my master and pushed at everything for a moment before the grip on his staff loosened. "I know my oaths far better than you, Storem. They were made before you were born and have been honored far better than your own."

Storem flinched and sat back into his throne. "I have met the requirements of our bond, wizard."

"In word, but not in faith, Storem. The goods we have received from Kessel are barely adequate. The tight fisted manner by which you have honored the oaths have forced me to deal with others for our needs."

"Of what good is this alliance? You have been here but once in twenty years, old man. We send you foods and goods each season and see nothing in return. When we send for your aid, your response is months too late."

"Was it?" Almidion's eyebrow lifted. "Did the bridge collapse?"

"No, old fool, we were able to keep it standing through the floods, no thanks to you."

Almidion smiled. "Do you really think my presence was needed in order for my magics to honor my oaths?"

Storem blinked. "What?"

"What do you require to know that I honor my oaths, Storem? Must I ride in on dragon's wings, stand upon the Tradewind Bridge, arms outstretched, and turn back the flood waters?" Almidion turned, indicating with his touch it was time for us to go. "The bridge stands because that is my will, Storem. I shall see to longer lasting protections before I leave. You have held to your oaths; as have I. If you believe the alliance between Seer's Watch and Kessel's Claw is no longer in your best interest, we can dissolve it. I have no time or interest in posturing or politics."

We walked the streets after leaving the keep. I was still trembling as we stopped in a tavern for our midday meal. Almidion smiled at me after we had our honey mead and stew. "What did you think of Lord Storem, young Gaerlin?"

I swallowed. "He was angry."

He chuckled. "Yes, but what did you -think-?"

"He feels trapped, and like a trapped animal he snarls and rails at the bars of his prison."

His smile washed away my worry. "Very good. Now for the more important question: how do we teach him that the bonds of alliance are not prisoner's chains?"

That was a question that I could not answer.

I was trapped in my own prison of grief and remorse. I had no idea how long I knelt beside the corpse and wept. The sun had long passed beyond the mountain peaks when I finally rose from Almidion's side. Bourent had gone back outside and started a fire; he sat quietly on the steps, giving me my space.

I did not go out to the warmth of the fire. Instead, I turned and stepped deeper into the empty darkness of the tower. I did not need light. So well did I know my home that I could walk the halls and stairs of the tower even if I were struck blind. Unlike the towers made by nobles, this one was not a stone shell with wooden supports, floors and stairs. The tower had not been built block upon block. It had been drawn up, molded like a potter would mold clay, from the very stone of the mountain cliffs. Magic had shaped the tower over five hundred years before I was born. Though the furnishings had been burned, tapestries torn from the walls, and chairs and tables smashed, the tower stood undamaged by the devastation within.

On the forth floor I sensed what I was seeking. The soft hum of magic sang through the darkness as I stepped around the broken remains of my master's room. Under the collapsed bed, against the wall, my hand touched the smooth, worn wood of my master's staff. It was pinned beneath the burnt and cracked frame of the massive bed. I knew that my hands could not pull the ancient talisman from its prison. That, however, did not mean it was beyond my reach. I stepped back and extended my hand toward where the staff lay. "Tar go mise."

I could not see the effects of the spell, but I heard the wood of the bed shatter as the staff answered my call. A few splinters and tatters of burnt mattress splattered against me as the staff leapt from the floor and came firmly into my grasp. It felt to my hand like an old, dear friend. I could feel Almidion's touch in the ancient wood. Each master before me had left a bit of his magic in that symbol of wizard's might. I was not a master, I had not been released from my apprenticeship, but my master was gone. Ready or not, I was left to carry the mantle of wizard. I was the Lord of Seer’s Watch; what was left of it. Twelve wizards had held this staff before me. Misfortune had brought it to my hands. There was nothing to do but hold tight and pray that providence did not make mistakes.

I held the seven foot piece of iron wood to me. The cool surface pressing against my cheek was somehow comforting. My master was there, in some small way, and I could feel his gentle kindness in the soft texture of the wood. I had run out of tears. Just holding the staff helped ease the awful ache of emptiness. I saw the glow of Bourent's torch as he made his way to my master's room. Blinking at the light, I shielded my eyes.

"Gaerlin?" He came into the room, cautiously, but stopped just inside the door.

"We can spend the night in the tower, Bourent. It will not fall." I moved closer to him, finding that the staff had settled comfortably into my grip. "Tomorrow I'll need to set the dead to rest."

"Then what?" He watched me with that damn expression again. A part of me wanted to strike it from his face.

"Then I gather what we will need, and we hunt goblins."

We returned to the great hall and prepared to spend the night. I covered Almidion with a burnt tapestry while Bourent moved the fire to the hearth. Mina was brought in, and the great doors closed before Bourent prepared our meal. We ate quietly, lost in our thoughts.

Finally, Bourent looked at me with in a way that did not make my hackles rise. His eyes were somehow softer beneath the shadows of his brows. "I'm sorry for your loss; Master Almidion was a great man."

I nodded and met his eyes. "Bourent?"

"Yes?"

"Could you just see me as a person tonight? I don't think I can take another night being the victim, or the wizard, or the mystery you can't understand."

He finished chewing on a piece meat, and regarded me for a moment. "It's going to be cold tonight."

I nodded.

"We should probably share warmth." That seemed to end the discussion. It wasn't exactly what I'd hoped for, but just human contact was better than another night in the cold. We went to sleep with our backs pressed together. It was not intimate, nor was it uncomfortable. For the first time in nearly two weeks, I went to sleep warm.

I woke to find I had rolled over in the night. Bourent was on his back, and I had curled against him with an arm across his chest. My head was pillowed on his shoulder and his arm held me gently. When I tried to rise, his arm instinctively tightened. It had been so very long since I had woke to the warmth of someone's arms. It had been nearly two years since Teryn had left; I still missed him. I remained pressed against Bourent 'til he stretched and blinked awake. He studied my eyes for a moment and I saw him struggle not to let his lips harden into that frown I had come to dread.

I pulled up from him and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Bourent."

He nodded, and rolled out of bed.

I watched him look about, perplexed, before I smiled. "Looking for a place for relief?"

With a grunt, he nodded again.

I stood. "Follow me."

We stepped passed the debris to the alcove under the stairs. I pushed open the singed door and indicated the hole. The bucket was tipped over. "I'll get some water to wash down our leavings." Taking the bucket, I headed for the kitchen while Bourent used the necessities. I was thankful that the pumps still worked. I pumped up some water for the bucket and filled a second for us to refill our water skins from. After relieving myself, I washed down the toilet.

Bourent gathered up our belongings. "How do you want to take care of the bodies?"

I considered the options for a moment before walking to the great doors. "I think the easiest way will be to bring them to the courtyard. We can burn them, and let the winds carry them beyond." It wasn't the most respectful way, but it was efficient and we did not have time for individual pyres.

It took most of the morning to drag the remains of the townsfolk to the courtyard. Fifty-seven bodies, including my master's, lay like cord wood, side by side and head to toe. Bourent had been confused when I told him we would not need wood or oil. I took up my master's staff, my staff, and drew upon the power held there. "Taibhse as Baldhm tar amach." The spirits of fire rose to my call. Alone, I had barely the strength to create a respectable fireball, but the power of the staff flowed through me like a river. The bodies erupted in a blaze so bright that I had to shield my eyes and step back from the heat. We stood, watching the bodies disperse into ash on the wind. The whole thing took less than a half hour.

When the last bit of ash was lifted on the wind and blown beyond the walls, I turned to Bourent. "Let's get what we need."

As we descended the stairs to the basement levels, I lifted the staff. "Solas." The tip of the staff began to glow with a soft, cool light. The goblins had been down there, but other than breaking open stores of wine and grain, they had found nothing of value. They had no way of knowing where the masters of the tower stored the true treasures. I led the way to the end of the hall, and pressed my hand against the stone. "Oscail." With a low groan, the wall slid back and swung open.

We stepped into the vault and it was illuminated by the enchantments of masters before me. Around us were selves of books and scrolls. All the compiled writings of the sages and wizards who had lived in Seer's Watch were held in that room. I walked passed the shelves, passed the racks and work tables, all the way to the far alcove. Bourent followed in silence, his eyes wide with the size of the vault.

Stepping in, my eyes settled upon the simple, leather backpack on the far right wall hook. I ran my fingers over the soft leather with memories threatening to wash me away. Master and I had traveled for a year before he brought me to Seer's Watch. His backpack had been as much a home to me as the tower ever became. Lifting the pack from its hooks, I set it on the worktable.

Bourent stood at the entrance of the alcove staring at the eleven cases within the room. I smiled as I moved reverently to the closest case. "I used to dream about the day I would be able to make use of the tools."

"The 'tools'?"

Nodding, I opened the glass topped case. Within lay a beautiful amulet of jade and gold. My fingers caressed the pendant before I lifted it from the velvet pillow. "Twelve tools, one from each of my twelve predecessors." I nodded to the staff. "'The Staff' was made by the first Master of Seer's Watch. It was his symbol of power and authority. He believed power was something from within, not something to be displayed in grand fashion. He was much like Almidion I think." Nodding to the pack, I smiled fondly. "That was my master's, I simply call it 'home'."

Bourent and come closer, looking at each of the cases but keeping a respectful distance. "Home?"

"The pack can hold over ten times its external volume and never weighs more than ten stones. It is water proof, fire proof and shows no more wear today than it did years ago." I smiled at him. "I spent a year living from the items stored within that pack."

He looked at the pendant in my hand. "What's that?"

"The Amulet of Ashyr. He was the third Master of Seer's Watch." Unclasping the chain, I brought it around my neck and fastened it. It was as cool against my skin as I slipped it under my robe. "The amulet provides protection to the wearer. I'm not clear on all it does, but I know the wearer will be kept from dying from the elements. Ashyr had been the widest traveled of all the Masters. It is said he never needed to worry about rain, heat or cold, and could travel for weeks before needing to eat or rest."

"So each of these was made by one of the masters?"

I nodded as I pulled out the other tools. "Twelve tools of wizardry by twelve masters of magic."

He looked at me significantly. "So you will be adding a thirteenth?"

I blinked. "Some day, if I live long enough to garner the knowledge I would need." I doubted I would see the day when my own magic was added to the tools of wizardry. It was more likely that I would die within a few months, bringing my master's line to an end. I placed the rest of the tools in my master's pack and pulled the straps over my shoulders before grasping the staff. "I have things to do before I can worry about that."

I resealed the vault before we returned to the great hall. We had half a day left to travel. Bourent, as usual, packed quickly and efficiently while I went through the tower to look for anything else I might need. By shortly after noon, we rode from the remains of my home. I looked back but once as we reached the last bend. I had a feeling I would never see the place again.

Destiny's Season - Chapter 02

2008-10-11T03:24:21Z

It wasn't until Bourent had completely finished packing the camp that I remembered I had never actually ridden a horse. The thought was completely ridiculous. I had been around horses for most of my life. I had groomed them, fed them, boarded them, saddled them and even led them as pack animals. Yet, in eighteen years of life, I had never actually ridden one. I would have laughed, if I hadn't been so embarrassed

Bourent caught me eyeing his horse dubiously and smiled. "Afraid of horses?"

"No, I love horses." I let the mare sniff at my sleeve before scratching behind her ear. "I've just never ridden one."

"Never?" He looked at me in disbelief.

Shrugging, I looked at the packs. "Never. It seems ridiculous when I think about it." I smiled at him self-consciously. "I've always walked where I needed to go."

Bourent secured the last pack and stroked the mare's neck. "Mina, this is Gaerlin." He looked at me. "Gaerlin, this is my oldest and truest friend, Mina."

I held out my hand and Mina sniffed it, nibbling gently at my fingers. "Hello, Mina."

After Mina was satisfied, Bourent frowned as he considered the issue of riding. "You're too tall to sit in front of me."

I smiled at the mental image; the man was about six inches shorter than I was, and there was no way he could guide the horse from behind me. "I think I will manage behind you, Bourent."

He mounted first, and then extended his hand to me. "Take it easy."

That was easier said than done. With cracked or broken ribs, only one functioning eye and hurting from head to toe, just reaching up was a challenge for me. I gritted my teeth and hefted myself up as he provided the leverage. I squeezed back the tears as I settled behind him. It had felt like my whole side had tried to pull apart just getting up there.

"Okay?"

I nodded into his shoulder. "Yeah, just winded." Realizing I would be pressed intimately against the man for hours, I shifted carefully back. "How do you prefer I hold on?"

He coughed. "Comfortably."

I cautiously slid my hands to interlace my fingers at his waist. "This ok?"

"Yes." He shifted slightly, causing our bodies to press lightly together. "If you get tired, just lean in."

That didn't take long. The soft rocking of the mare's gait lulled me, and I leaned in. I felt one of his arms lock over my hands as I dozed off.

We walked for over a week stopping most nights to sleep under a canvas that Almidion produced each evening from his unremarkable pack. It took me several days to realize that he pulled far too many things from the pack than he would ever be able to fit within such a bag. By the end of the first week, my curiosity got the best of me.

Sitting on a log, eating a roasted squirrel, I couldn't stand the mystery any longer. "Master Almidion?"

He smiled at me as he finished a bite of his rodent. "Yes, Gaerlin?"

"How do you carry so much in something so small?"

He laughed. "I suspect you have been trying to reason out the answer to that for quite a while."

I blushed and nodded. I spent much of our walking time thinking. Unlike my parents, Almidion seemed undisturbed by my times of introspection. "I can not understand how so much can come from such a small pack. I have lifted it several times, and it could not weigh more than ten stones."

Smiling, he nodded to the pack. "Why don't you see for yourself, lad."

I scrambled over to the pack, carefully untied the lacing, and lifted the flap. I could not quite see clearly into the pack. I reached in carefully and felt around. I could find nothing. Frowning, I leaned the pack down to let the light of the fire enter the mouth. Again, all I could see within was a shadowed, empty interior. I blinked and looked back at my master's grin. "I can't find anything."

"That is because you don't know what you're looking for." He gestured for me to bring the pack to him, which I did. He closed his eyes and reached into the pack. After a moment, he pulled out a robe. "The trick is to know what you want."

I blinked. "That wasn't in there."

"Yes, young Gaerlin, it was." Patting the log, he smiled. "Come."

I sat beside him and looked into the amazing pack. "Does it make anything?"

Chuckling, Almidion shook his head. "The pack can make nothing. It can only provide what you have placed into it." He took my hand in his and smiled. "Close your eyes." I did. "Now, reach in slowly and think about a bar of soap."

Slowly, I slid my hand into the pack and visualized the bar of soap he had pulled out several times over the last few evenings. I flinched as my fingers met something solid yet smooth. I gripped it and pulled it out. Opening my eyes, I looked at the bar of soap in my hand with a sense of awe.

"That, my dear Gaerlin, is your first lesson."

I blinked. "Lesson?"

Nodding, he closed the pack and smiled. "Look beneath the surface; things are always more than they appear to be." That was only the first of so many lessons to come.

I woke with my cheek against Bourent's head. The horse weaved down a steep path and the swaying brought me awake. Bourent squeezed my hands and grunted. "You need to hold on here." I tightened my grip as I saw what he meant. I was amazed I hadn't fallen off the horse while I slept.

"Sorry," I apologized through my yawn, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He shrugged and leaned back as the slope steepened. "You are healing; you will sleep often."

I knew he was right. I had cared for more than a few sick and injured people since Almidion had taken me as his apprentice. I had never been truly sick or injured myself; the experience was far different from observation.

It rained through the afternoon, and the drizzle felt nice on my bruised cheek but it soaked us through and left the ground wet for the evening. We made camp just before dusk in a relatively dry spot under some low tree limbs. Bourent set about making .a sheltered area for the night. I felt like a burden as he worked; I simply stood by Mina while he efficiently assembled everything. I would have only been in the way for I knew nothing of how things were packed. I simply watched in a slight daze as the man worked with practiced precision.

It wasn't 'til he was struggling to light the damp kindling that I came back to my senses. Settling down on the other side of the fire circle, I eyed his frustrated efforts. The flint and steel lit the bits of wool and chips but the dampness of the other kindling would not respond in kind. Bourent had already been forced to use two small bundles of starter without success. I suspected if I weren't with him he wouldn't have even tried.

"Bourent?"

He grunted. "I'll get it started." His shoulders tensed as he hunched closer to the unresponsive bundle of sticks.

I put my hand over his. "Bourent." This time it wasn't a question.

His frustrated frown almost made me flinch. I held his gaze, and he finally sat back.

"This is something I can do."

He seemed bewildered by my statement. The man had saved my life, tended my wounds and was taking me home. He would never understand how useless and weak I felt. Anything I could do to help in my own survival I would gladly do; no, I needed to do.

"You made the camp; let me make the fire."

He nodded, and handed me the flint and steel. I set them aside, causing Bourent's frown to deepen, but he watched silently as I bowed my head. Taking a slow breath, I lifted my hands above the kindling. "Taibhse as Baldhm tar amach." I evoked slowly to be sure I did not slur the words. The power whispered from me, curled about the damp twigs. The wood hissed as it crackled into flame. I added more of the twigs and small branches as the little fire sizzled and spit. Once it was a small, sturdy blaze I lifted my eyes to see Bourent still watching. I gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm not totally useless."

His gaze left mine as he stood and moved uncomfortably to the packs. "I never said you were." Those were the last words he said to me that night. The silence was uncomfortable at best and was terribly lonely by the time I fell asleep. I woke once to find he had never come under the tarpaulin. He lay on the ground on the opposite side of the fire. I felt like a leper.

He packed the camp, save for the tarpaulin and my blankets, by the time I woke. I silently ate the cheese and flat bread he left me as he lashed the last items to Mina. When I got to the horse, he made to help me up first.

"Bourent? What are you doing?"

He looked at me solemnly. "Helping you onto the horse."

I grunted. The contrite tone in his voice was irritating. "I can see that. You need to be up there first."

Looking away he grumbled, "I'm walking."

I wasn't just irritated, I was mad. "Walking?!? You haven't spoken three civil words to me since last night. What has changed that makes my presence intolerable?"

"It isn't intolerable." He glared at me for a moment, and then dropped his gaze. "You're a wizard."

"So? I was a wizard before and that didn't seem to make any difference."

"I'm sorry." He would not meet my gaze. "I should never have behaved as your equal."

I really didn't have any response for that. I had spent most of my years apprenticing at Seer's Watch. I had forgotten how regular folk reacted to wizards. It was worse than how royalty was treated. "If you walk, so will I."

He looked at me. "It will take too long if you walk." His eyes betrayed his frustration even if his tone remained level.

I met his eyes, and held them. "No longer than my riding with you walking." His eyes hardened, but he knew I was right. "Have I objected to how you've treated me?"

"No."

"That's because I didn't feel poorly treated 'til today." He frowned, and I sighed. "I'm hurt, Bourent, and I'm tired. We move faster on horseback, and I am less likely to fall off when I drowse if you're there." I really wanted to ask him to not treat me like something I wasn't. I was a person, not a god.

He set his jaw and swung up into the saddle with a grunt. He held out his arm to help me as I pulled myself up behind him. We rode much as we had the day before. By mid morning the soft rocking gait of the mare lulled me against his back and my cheek lay on his shoulder as I slipped into dreams again.

Master Almidion led me on many paths of discovery as days of travel turned into weeks. I had never walked so long or so far in my life. Every step took me somewhere new. By the end of our first month we came to the most amazing and terrifying thing I had ever seen; a city. Kessel's Claw wasn't a large city by most standards, but it was the largest center of people I had ever seen. The towers of the outer walls could be seen from impossibly far away, and I felt smaller with every step.

By the time we entered the gates, I became my master's shadow. We wandered the cobbled streets of the fortified town, cutting a path between merchants, townsfolk and riders. The buildings were three and four stories high, taller than any I had seen before. The towers of the city walls loomed above at least seven, possibly ten stories. It was awe inspiring to a lad who had never been farther than three miles from his home his entire life.

Almidion chuckled as I bumped the back of his legs for the fifth or sixth time. "Come around beside me, Gaerlin, you can't experience life standing in another's shadow."

I grinned at his easy, gentle tone. He never scolded, and never spoke a harsh word to me. In ways I had come to love him as I had never loved my parents or siblings. He simply understood and accepted. He never seemed to judge me. He would question my choices or thoughts, he would give me guidance when he felt I needed it, but nothing I ever did was "wrong". Even in a place as terrifying and spell binding as Kessel's Claw, I felt safe near him.

It was in Kessel's Claw I experienced the difference in how people responded to Almidion than they did to each other. Their eyes would either fill with an understated fear, and they would avert their gaze. No, fear wasn't the right word; they looked upon him in awe. That awe seemed to spread to me, and that made me very uncomfortable.

"Ah," Master Almidion sighed as we turned a corner. He gestured to the sign of a bird in its nest. "The Sparrow's Nest. We shall rest and recover here, my boy. Though not as grand as the inns of the southern kingdoms, the Nest is clean and comfortable." He chuckled as we approached the doors. "Not to mention, affordable."

"Master Almidion," a round faced, smiling man greeted as we entered, "it has been ages."

Almidion smiled, gripping the man's forearms in greeting. "It is good to see you well, Master Bellor. How is your lovely wife?"

Master Bellor beamed. "She is as vicious as a harpy and as full around as a pumpkin. We expect our fifth by the next full moon."

"You have been busy," Almidion chuckled. "When last I was here there were only two."

"We had twins since you last graced our humble inn, Master Almidion," Master Bellor laughed. "Oh but Mercina was a devil before those two popped out." He shuddered. "The woman is an angel until the last month or two, and then there isn't a devil that can match the torments she can put a man through."

Master Bellor took a key from a peg behind the bar and stepped toward the stairs when a screech that reminded me of my mother when I had done something particularly bad shattered the amiable moment. "BELLOR!"

Master Bellor cringed, looking at the ceiling as if to smite it, and cursed under his breath. His attention shifted to the kitchen door as a big eared boy, came out with a bucket. "Nathin!"

The boy nearly dropped the bucket as he fidgeted between standing straight up and slumping further forward. "Yes, Master Bellor?"

"See Master Almidion to his suite. Immediately."

Nathin snatched the key from Master Bellor's outstretched hand. "Yes, Master Bellor." He looked at us without meeting our eyes. "Just up the stairs, masters."

Bellor cuffed Nathin across the top of his head. "Take their packs you lazy oaf!"

Almidion held up his hand patiently. "No need, Master Bellor. We can see our things to the rooms."

A month before, I was the one who scurried to make space for others. Now boys older than me scurried to get space ready. We were shown to rooms that made my eyes go wide in amazement. The furnishings were opulent, and the apartment had a sitting room, a sleeping room and a washing room. I had never seen such luxury.

Nathin bowed his head to my master. "I will be near, master; if you need something there is a bell on both the bed stand and on the desk."

Almidion nodded with a smile and bid Nathin to go about his business. His smile fell to me as he rolled his eyes. "Silly, isn't it?"

I blinked. "What, master?"

"How they fall over themselves trying to please us."

I frowned. "They honor you master. I am only your servant."

His smile wilted. "Is that what you think?"

I nodded. "I'm not unhappy, truly."

His old, fingers lifted my chin. "You are not my servant, Gaerlin, you are my apprentice."

I had no idea what an apprentice was, but it sounded important. "Apprentice?"

He chuckled at my lack of understanding. "Have you ever wondered why you did not fawn and scrape in my presence the way your parents' had?"

My cheeks flushed with guilt and shame. "I never meant disrespect, master." I tried to drop my eyes, but he wouldn't let me.

"You never behaved disrespectfully, Gaerlin. You were the first young one I had met in ages who showed enough inner strength to be worth more study." He smiled. "Never forget, Gaerlin, that I am just a man. No matter what you may see me do later, no matter what marvels we will explore, I am only a man. I know more than many and have seen more than most, but I am no better than you, and you are no better than anyone else." His eyes conveyed the sincerity of his words. "If you learn nothing else, learn this: Always keep the company of equals, no matter their stations in life, and you will never be alone. There is nothing lonelier than living apart from others; especially in the company of others."

Nathin was sent to bring a tailor and seamstress to us. Master Almidion had them measure me and requested several new tunics, breeches and robes to replace the ones I had brought with me. He also got the name of a cobbler whom we would visit the following day. I was perplexed by this because, though worn and a bit tattered, my clothing had much wear left in them.

Nathin drew a bath before dinner and my master had me clean myself and wash my hair. I had seldom washed in hot water. When I came out, hair wet and my other tunic on, my master had me sit before him. My master pulled out a grooming kit and smiled as I sat.

"What do you think of short hair, young Gaerlin?"

I shrugged. Short hair was nice, but required frequent grooming to keep it looking good. My longer, blond hair could just be tied back and kept out of the way. Master Almidion had long, silver-white hair that extended nearly to his seat. "It is a lot of fuss."

He chuckled. "True, if you have no one to help keep it trimmed." He looked at my wet, snarled curls. "I think you would look good with short hair."

I had never had short hair. My mother would keep my father's hair trimmed; it seemed to make him look more respectable and less common. I shrugged again. "If you think so, master."

He had me sit straight and still as he carefully combed out the snarls. My mother had occasionally combed out my hair when I had too much hay or twigs in it to do it myself, but it had always been done in frustration. My master's hands worked gently and caringly to get out all the snares. His fingers ran through it for a few minutes after he had finished; it was as if he were trying to decide what would be best. I closed my eyes when I heard the first snip. He trimmed and shaped my hair for what felt like ages. Each cut seemed to remove more weight than the hair itself. I was trembling when he finished.

I didn't open my eyes until I felt him looking at me from a foot or two away. The smile on his face soothed my fears and my trembling eased. "You look charming, Gaerlin." He motioned me to stand, and he moved me to the full length mirror.

I stood beside him and looked at my reflection. The boy with the hair simply pulled back in a thong was gone. My hair was short, trimmed close to the neck, with a longer top that gave me bangs. I couldn't stop the grin that lit my face.

"Do you like it?"

I didn't realize I was hugging him 'til I felt his hand stroking my hair. I let go immediately, and looked at my feet. "I'm sorry, master."

He lifted my chin, meeting my eyes with a soft, warm smile and acceptance. "Always be honest with your feelings, Gaerlin. Though you may need to guard them in public, you need never hide them from me."

Nodding, I wiped my eyes. "Yes, master."

He grinned. "Now that we have you clean and groomed, I have to make myself respectable." He rang the bell, and Nathin appeared within a minute.

"Yes, Master Almidion?" He stared at me for a moment before averting his gaze to the floor. Apparently the change did not go unnoticed.

"I will need fresh water for my bath, Nathin. A few fresh towels would be nice as well." Nathin bowed and left to bring the fresh water.

I went to the wash tub, took up the bucket and began to scoop out the soapy, dirty water from my bath. Master Almidion sat in the main room, combing out his braid, while I emptied the tub. I was stopped by Nathin's angry glare as he came in with the first bucket of hot water. He looked something between hurt and furious.

"I'm sorry, Nathin." I finched, hastening to finish my task. "I'll have it empty in a moment."

His expression slid from angry to confused. He was a couple years older, and quite a bit bigger than I was. I finished dumping the water out the window and held the bucket as he poured his into the tub. "If you'll show me where the water is heating, I'll help bring up the bath."

His expression was more confused as he led me down the servant's stairs to the kitchen. I wasn't prepared for the reaction we got when I came in behind him. A large woman gasped at my being in the kitchen and turned on Nathin with color rising like leavened bread.

"You lazy, oaf!" Nathin backed away as she swung her spoon at him. "How dare you bother a guest with your tasks!" She reached out and grabbed his ear, yanking him along with her. "You'll be boxed for this for sure!"

"Ma'am, please…" I clambered behind them as she dragged Nathin across the kitchen. "I asked for Nathin's help; not the other way around."

She stopped to look at me. "Why would you do that?"

Shifting from foot to foot I looked down. "It's my task to serve Master Almidion. I simply didn't know where the hot water was."

She snorted at me, unconvinced. "You are his apprentice?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Why would he have you toting and carrying when you have greater things to learn?"

I couldn't answer that. I looked helplessly at Nathin before a voice came from the servant's stairs. "Because it is important for him to learn humility and obedience, madam."

The woman blanched. I was certain she had never had a wizard come into the kitchen before. She immediately released Nathin's well abused ear. "I… I did not know, Master Almidion."

He nodded curtly. "Gaerlin must know how to do these things by the time we return to my tower." I already knew how to fetch, carry and clean, and I looked at him oddly before I saw the twinkle in his eyes. He was playing a game.

I nodded my head and tried to look contrite. "I'm sorry to take so long, Master."

"Quite alright, lad. I was remiss in making my wishes clear to the inn keeper and his staff. You can not be found at fault." He looked back at the head woman. "Nor do I blame you, madam. You were quite right to be confused by such an oddity. Surely you have never had a nobleman's son, or daughter, enter the kitchen on errands."

"No, sir, I have not."

"Then this must seem even more peculiar." He smiled enigmatically as he turned to go back up the stairs. "But wizards are a peculiar lot. Please allow Gaerlin to be about his duties; if he becomes a nuisance, let me know."

The head woman stood, flabbergasted, as my master left. She looked at me and nodded. "My apologies, Master Gaerlin, I will make it known you are to be given access to anything you need."

I smiled. "Thank you." I picked up my bucket again. "Which way to the bath water?"

She smacked Nathin on the back of the head and shooed him on his way. "Don't just stand there, boy, get Master Gaerlin what he needs."

When we were out of earshot, I turned to Nathin. "Are you alright?"

He looked stunned that I would ask. "Nothing worse than normal; I'm surprised my ears don't stretch into points." He rubbed the insulted ear tenderly.

I smiled. "Yeah, my mum used to do that, but she always pulled the bottom."

As we dipped our buckets into the large heating tub, Nathin eyed me. "Do you really fetch and carry?"

"Yes. Until Master Almidion came, I was just the eldest son in my father's tavern. I'm sure you know what that means."

He grinned. "All the responsibility and none of the fun."

I smiled. "I've never been in a city before."

His mouth fell open like I had just confessed a dark secret. "Never?"

I shook my head as I lugged the bucket toward the stairs. "I'm sure this won't be the only time. Everyone has to have firsts, right?"

He nodded and followed me. "Well, Master Gaerlin, this has been a first for me."

I looked at him curiously as we got to the top of the stairs. "How's that?"

He grinned. "I didn't know wizards could be nice."

I smiled. I liked Nathin.

We made camp as the sun was sinking past the peaks of the Balalorns. Bourent spoke little, but let me help with the tarpaulin and with clearing our bed area of rocks and twigs. He looked at the fire he was setting and frowned. That made me smile, and before he could unwind another set of tinder, I lifted my hand and evoked. "Taibhse as Baldhm tar amach." My words were clear and strong; the swelling of my face, and the ache in my jaw had diminished significantly. The magic came easier than the previous night.

Bourent skittered back as the kindling erupted into flames. I chuckled at his reaction, before I moved over and began to put the twigs and smaller branches on the fire. When I looked up his eyes were angry. "I could have done it." The hard, drawn edge to his tone made me flinch.

"I know." I realized that I was invading what he felt was his domain. I was the "high and mighty wizard"; the only reason for me to do a task myself was if I didn't believe another could do it. I looked back at him. "If I wasn't a wizard, would you be upset if I'd started the fire?"

Bourent chewed on that for a moment. "No, I would have asked you to do it while I moved the heavier items from the packs."

"Then why didn't you ask?"

He frowned. "You don't ask wizards to start fires or clean bedding."

I shrugged. "I've been lighting fires and cleaning bedding for years, Bourent. I'm not going to stop simply because it isn't what someone else thinks wizards should do."

"Wizards do important things. They conjure spirits; they smite the armies of enemies; they slay dragons. Wizards don't clean or cook or hunt, that's what the rest of us do."

I felt my anger boiling up from my gut. He thought I was some sort of fop who sat in an ivory chair and had everything served to me. I was a priceless jewel that was pulled out for special occasions by the nobility. Not only was it insulting, but it hurt. I sat back on my haunches and snarled. "How do you know what a wizard does or doesn't do, Bourent? I've been an apprentice since I was a boy, and I can assure you my master washed, cooked, cleaned and hunted like anyone else. Maybe he didn't need to, but he did. I won't be treated like some spoiled nobleman." My anger caused my ribs to ache and my face to throb. "Maybe I look like some fragile fop, but you spend a week at the mercies of goblins and see what you look like. Thank you for saving me, and thank you for seeing me home, but if you aren't going to treat me like a person you can go back to Imsen alone. I will figure out how to save my people without you." I stood up and began climbing back down to the trail.

He caught up with me while I was orienting myself. It was getting dark fast. "What are you doing?"

"Going home." I couldn't take his presence any longer. The first day I had thanked the guardians for delivering him to me; now I was cursing them. The man frustrated me so badly it made me itch.

"It's dark; you won't be able to see the path."

"Oh, really?" I turned and threw my arms wide, ignoring the stabs of pain that came from my ribs and shoulder. " Taibhse as solas doigh an aer." The magic swirled into the air and erupted into a slivery white blaze that filled the area with a pure, ghostly luminance.

Bourent stumbled back. "By the spirits…"

I glared at him. "Is that what you expect, Bourent? Should I be demanding, and conceited, and put on displays of power in some hope to make you believe I'm superior to you?"

He looked shocked as I leaned close his face. "I have lost my home, my family and my people all within a week. I have been beaten, starved and who knows what else. I don't want sympathy or pity; I want to know I'm still a person." I realized I was cracking when I felt the tears streaking my cheeks. I turned away, and started walking. "I just want to know I'm still alive."

I didn't get very far. I'd made a good show of it, but magic wasn't something done lightly. You had to carry the power through you, and focus it with your mind. I wasn't thinking clearly, and my body certainly wasn't ready to fuel two evocations so close together. The last thing I remembered was my knees giving out. I didn't even feel when I hit the ground.

My Partner is PUBLISHED!

2008-10-07T22:34:46Z

My partner, Murphy Jacobs, is published.

Please support our efforts and buy the story.

Please buy In the Temple of Nogged from Freya's Bower!

Thanks,

ABG

Destiny's Season - Chapter 01

2008-09-23T02:43:51Z

I stumbled for the two hundred and twenty-seventh time in the last three days. My yelp, as my knee impacted the rocky soil, was muffled by the gag that became ever more fused to my mouth by the hour. It was nearly impossible to keep my balance in uneven terrain when my arms were restrained behind my back. I could hardly feel my arms any longer. I was certain the bonds were cutting off my circulation. The hands that yanked me up belonged to a creature that cared nothing for these things. With a harsh bark of a barely discernable language the beast shoved me onward.

I dared not look around to see how many of us were left. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the flames rising from the tower; my home for seven glorious years. In those flames I could see Almidion's body, broken and bloody, on the floor of the great hall. The great sage was a man of peace; yet he died at the hands of violence as surely as any peasant, warrior or thief. I tried not to close my eyes. This was more a practical than sentimental choice; I needed to watch my step lest I add another stumble to the growing succession of them.

As the sun dipped past the peaks of the Balalorns, my captors brought an end to the day's march. My legs thanked the guardians as I was allowed to sink down against a tree. "Allowed" was a bit too magnanimous of me; I was shoved against the tree and my feet were kicked out from under me before they bound me with five other captives to the trunk of the ancient oak. Enjoy being beaten, bruised, humiliated and soiled? Become a wizard's apprentice, and know the joy! I cut off that line of thought. Almidion deserved better from me than that. I let my head rest against the great oak as my mind wandered away from the ache and pain of the present.

The old man was annoying in a way that only the ancient could be to a boy. He arrived two weeks ago and hadn't left. Jasper's Reach was a simple collection of five buildings in the bend of the river. Travelers never stayed longer than a week. The only merchant supplied the basic necessities. My family's tavern, though two stories and having a separate stable, wasn't luxurious. The blacksmith had a passable forge for the making of stakes, simple axe heads and tools, and the reshoeing of horses. Our only entertainment came from the infrequent arrival of a bard or messenger who would sing or bring news of the world in return for lodging and a meal. Trappers and miners who earned their living in the forested slopes along the Markod River were our usual customers. Between mid-spring and early-fall, traders and travelers came through town once or twice a week. No one in their right mind traveled the mountain roads during the late-fall, winter or during the spring rains.

The damned old man was different. He arrived just before the rains and had waited out the first line of spring storms. The skies had been clear for days, and yet he remained. He had taken our one "good" room; the one mother kept in perfect condition for the occasional merchant or minor noble who passed through. The old curmudgeon didn't look like royalty. He wore simple, off-white robes; his pack was sturdy but made of simple leather and was without even the simplest decoration; his shoes were no better than those of most travelers; his walking staff was old and worn from years of being gripped and held.

I had to bring him hot water for his evening baths. I stoked his fire and changed his linens. His presence shackled me to my duties in a time when chores were few. As the eldest child, it was my responsibility to see to "important guests." So rare were the times I could get away and find some solitude and quiet that I resented his intrusion all the more. Soon the spring rains would be over and the endless routine of serving, cleaning and carrying would begin again. What little reprieve the rains provided was all but gone.

I would have preferred he stayed in the room like a recluse, but the Gods were not so generous. He ate his meals in the tavern. His eyes took in everything and yet were always gazing at me whenever I glanced at him. By the fifth day of his stay I was determined to be free of those eyes. Whenever he looked upon me, I felt like he was reading me like a book. Not that I knew what reading was like; I'd only seen books a couple of times.

I woke to one of the few cloud free mornings of spring, and hurried to finish my morning chores. I escaped the stable before my mother could call me in for breakfast. If she caught me at the table, I would be imprisoned with cleaning and chores for another sunny day. I snuck my way down around the bend and out onto the rocks that jutted into the currents. The river water still bit like the breath of winter; just dipping my toes in sent chills to my hair. Anything was better than doing chores at the tavern during a sunny respite from the rains.

It was mid-morning when my toe chilling retreat was interrupted by the feeling of those eyes gazing upon me. I looked up from boulders I had made my refuge to see the ancient buzzard regarding me silently from the riverbank. He either noticed my frown or the stubborn set of my shoulders, because he chuckled to himself as I climbed over the rocks back to shore.

I bit back a sour remark and dropped my gaze to his feet. "Do you need something, Master Almidion?"

"You do not like me, do you Gaerlin?" His eyes sparkled when I looked up.

"I… well, I don't know you… sir." No one had ever really asked me if I liked them or not. I was the eldest child of four and the one expected to carry on the family tradition as a traveler's host. What I liked didn't matter. I looked at his feet again.

"Then I must make you uncomfortable." Something about the amusement in his tone irritated me. He enjoyed my discomfort.

"No sir," I lied, "I simply don't understand you."

"Ah." He looked out over the thrashing water that carried the early spring melt and rains down from the mountains. "And you like to understand things, don't you?"

I flinched. I could not recount how many times my ears had been boxed for thinking too much. Chores didn't require much thought, but did take a lot of time. Time spent in thought was time wasted. My father was a man of few thoughts. Life for him was what he saw, and the world did not extend beyond the bend in the river.

"It's hard when people don't understand, isn't it?"

I didn't answer him; I couldn't. No one understood. I was just different. I should have been satisfied with what I had. I had a home, a family, food and clothing. I wasn't mistreated, or punished without cause. I didn't hate my parents; they were good people and loving, but they didn't see things like I did.

He squeezed my shoulder. I hadn't even noticed when he'd put his hand there. "What do you see, Gaerlin, when you look at the river?"

I was drawn to looking at the waters again. They churned and swirled over the rocks, spilling past in their rush into the distance. "Water."

He bent lower to me and spoke in hushed tones. "No, Gaerlin, what do you really see?"

I swallowed and closed my eyes. I couldn't understand why the question made me tremble. Was it the intimate tone in his voice, the hint that he knew something I didn't, or was it something in me? My eyes opened again, but I didn't see the water. "Change and fury, passion and abundance; I see the pulse of the seasons as winter releases her grip and spring opens her bosom to a needy world." I didn't think I spoke above a whisper. I'd never told anyone what I really saw or felt when I looked at things. It was a knowing, a whisper of memories that couldn't have been mine. It was as if I lived outside of my body, beyond it, but I hid within myself to keep from being noticed.

He poked his staff at a calm area near the shore. "And what do you see here?"

I frowned. He pointed to the slow, calm eddy made in the sheltering of rocks at the shore's edge. "My life; stagnate, hemmed in, meaningless." I didn't realize I was crying until an aged finger wiped the tear from my cheek.

He knelt down on the moist earth and looked at me. Those steel grey eyes held mine for the longest time. They didn't scare me anymore; all I saw was understanding, patience and something I couldn't explain. "I will be leaving in the morning. If you wish, you may come with me."

Why was the old man saying that? I recoiled from the idea. Leave my home? Leave for where? It would be madness, and yet a part, a stronger, deeper part of me yearned for it. I nodded with my tongue thick in my mouth.

He smiled. "I will pause at the guidepost at the northern bend. If you are there at dawn, we shall journey together. If not, then I will continue on alone." With that he stood and left me to my thoughts.

I had never been beyond the northern bend. I had lived all my eleven years with my world consisting of the road between the northern bend and the southern bridge. I wondered what I would feel if I ever stepped beyond it.

Pain was what I felt. My lips felt like someone was peeling the skin off them as dark, clay colored fingers pulled the gag from my mouth. I would have spit but there was no moisture left for me to do so. Dirty, inhuman fingers covered my lips before I could utter a word.

"Speak, wizard, die." His words were broken but he got his message across. The goblin's misshapen mouth had difficulty with the complexities of human languages. That's why their language was comprised mostly of guttural grunting and phlegm-like sounds. He brought a wooden cup to my lips and I sipped of the cool water.

I knew not to ask questions. They would not know the difference between an attempt to speak and an attempt to evoke. Fear would dictate that they kill me first and wonder what I had intended after the last gurgling breath had slipped from my corpse. It was with that delightful thought that I chewed on the bit of smoked meat that had been shoved into my mouth. Unlike the other captives, the goblins kept watch to know when I was done. I was the only one gagged. Of course, I was also the only one not considered "food". I tried not to think about the origin of the meat in my mouth.

They had taken thirty-two captives from the ruins of Seer's Watch. From the best I could tell, there were only twenty-nine of us now. Most of us were simply cattle or masturbatory tools for our captors. I tried to push back the memories of the screams and strangled cries of those who had been raped. I was a wizard, or so the goblins believed, so I was of value. I could only imagine what would happen once they had delivered me to their leaders. I did not know enough to do permanent enchantments; I couldn't even transmute metals. Such magics took lifetimes to master. What magics I could do would be of no value to the likes of a goblin. My death was assured as soon as they realized they had taken the apprentice and killed the master. Goblins were devious and underhanded creatures, but not clever. They could not understand the reverence of age. Maturing at age five, and usually dead by twenty-five, goblins had no use for old humans. That was the reason that Almidion was dead and I was alive; such a waste.

I looked about at my fellow captives. These people had been everything to my master. He had cared for and protected them. Scholars, seers, artists and writers; they came to study, learn and create in peace. The goblins were not pleased to find that the "Treasure of Seer's Watch" was comprised of scrolls, books, paintings and sculptures. We had little gold, jewels or items commonly thought of as "treasure." They burned the village in frustration after futilely trying to tear down the tower. Memories plagued me as I surrendered to exhaustion; sleep was easier than trying to ignore the pained cries from the dark.

I sat, crouched on the boulder near the guidepost, for what felt like hours. I had not been able to sleep. I had packed my clothes, the set of pants and two shirts I owned that weren't already on my back, into my blanket and had tied it all together with one of the ropes from the stable. In a smaller cloth I had a slab of cheese and some flatbread from the kitchen. I did not know what scared me more: if I missed meeting Master Almidion or if I met him. I shivered in the dark and waited.

He came up the trail in his slow, long legged gait, as the dawn crept over the peaks. His grey eyes met mine as he approached the guidepost. "Good morning, Gaerlin." He stopped at the post and waited for me to slide down from the boulder. His eyes scrutinized my poorly restrained bundle and my shabby clothes. "I see you have chosen to join me."

I nodded. "Yes, sir, if your offer still stands."

His smile lifted a bit of my dread. "I never make offers I do not intend to keep, Gaerlin. It is always best to speak the truth and live by your word." He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face the road north. "Are you ready?"

Swallowing, I nodded through my uncertainty. "No, but I want to go anyway."

He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before continuing up the trail. "We are never truly ready for the changes life brings, young Gaerlin. Facing them with dignity is the most anyone can do."

I set my shoulders and tried to make the ropes more comfortable before starting after him. Each step took me farther and farther from the world I knew. What I didn't know at the time was that each step also took me closer and closer to home.

The goblins marched us farther west for another two days. Near the end of our fifth day, I was separated from the others and began heading north. My five captors were impatient with my progress. I was not purposefully moving slowly; my delirium and hunger made my balance even more precarious. I lost count of my stumbles after something over seven hundred. They finally realized, when I passed out for the second time that day that I could not be made to move farther or faster by beating, kicking or yelling.

I was force fed water, but the smoked meats were too tough to chew. This frustrated them further and I was beaten again. How much time passed I could not say. I had a vague awareness of being strapped, like game, to a pole and carried through at least one additional day. After that, things simply didn't matter; all I wanted was to die.

I woke to the feeling of something cool against my brow. My hands were no longer tied behind my back and my feet weren't bound. I managed to open one of my eyes, the other felt swollen shut. Dark, possibly green eyes looked back at me. Human eyes. Caring eyes. I couldn't really make out the details of the face. I slipped away again.

It was dark when I blinked awake again. There was the soft crackling of a fire and I could make out the shadows playing against the tree limbs above me. I ached in ways I didn't know were possible, and my face felt raw and the size of a melon. I could feel my fingers again, though my wrists hurt enough to make me wince when I flexed them. I was about to move when a voice cautioned me.

"Better let me help you; you have a couple broken ribs."

It was a deep voice, almost a growl, and I wondered briefly what had made it. I did not have to wait long; strong hands slid behind my head and back and helped me to sit up.

I winced but managed not to cry out at the sharp pinch I felt in my side. It was then that I realized I was no longer wearing my robes. I had been safely wrapped between two blankets but my clothing was gone. I could feel bandages around my chest and ribs. I blinked as my eye adjusted to the flickering firelight. My host was a man of average height, long dark hair, weathered complexion and understated strength. I knew of that strength only as he held me upright. To look at him, you would not think him so powerful; possibly it was the clothes. He wore a simple tunic and breeches; further details were nothing I cared to examine. As I came upright, my bladder informed me of its displeasure with the action.

"I think I am going to wet your blankets." Before I could think he had me up and a few steps away.

"You have already soiled one set; I have no others to use."

I nodded absently, the sudden change in altitude made me dizzy. "Sorry." It took a moment for the flow to start; but as it did I sank a little from the relief. Held up by those strong, unfamiliar arms, I was keenly aware that he stood only to about my shoulder, possibly my chin. Then again, I was rather tall. When I finished, he helped me back to the blankets and wrapped me in them.

"Do you think you can stomach something to eat?"

Nodding absently, I realized there were no goblins to be seen. Why were there no goblins? What had happened? "Where am I?"

"The Forest of Ulhan, about a day north of the where the Jaav River turns south." He ladled some soup into a bowl and brought it to me. "Can you hold this?"

I lifted my hands and cupped the bowl. Though unsteady, I didn't shake enough to spill the soup. "I suppose so."

He smiled and returned to the fire to sit. He watched me quietly as I took small sips of the soup. As the warmth filled my belly, the haze began to fade from my brain. By the time I had finished the bowl, I was thinking far more clearly. "What happened to the goblins?"

"Dead."

I would have raised an eyebrow, but making any interesting facial expressions only caused me to wince. "Thank you."

He grunted. "I didn't do anything I wouldn't do for anyone else."

"That doesn't mean it isn't worthy of thanks." I tried to smile, but the swelling really made it difficult to know what it came out as. "My name is Gaerlin."

"Bourent."

Eyeing the cooking skin, I raised my bowl. "May I have some more?"

Bourent rose, took my bowl, and ladled out another filling. "I've already eaten. You can have it all."

I ate my soup in silence. He didn't seem inclined to talk, and the ache in my jaw limited how much I wanted to move it. I sat, looking at my quiet companion, and wondered why the Gods hadn't let me die. What reason could they have had for saving me, other than to punish me for failing my master and the people he loved?

Bourent helped me to relieve myself again before I was too tired from the ache to stay awake. Though I didn't want the attention, he made certain my blanket was comfortably around me and placed folded clothes under my head. I should have thanked him, but I wasn't feeling very thankful. I dropped into a pain and guilt filled slumber.

Another urgent need to pee woke me before dawn. Feeling stronger, I managed to move from my bedding and relieved myself without having to wake Bourent. The smell of old coals and evergreens inspired memories that brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them away, and looked about. For a second I was a boy again, and I expected to see Almidion laying near the fire, his head propped up on his pack. Instead, I saw a man I didn't know sleeping on the far side of the fire, and a horse regarding me quietly from the edge of camp. The early autumn air was cool, and I noticed that Bourent was wrapped in his cloak . Though he looked comfortable, I could only imagine he was chilled. I had a blanket and I wasn't particularly warm.

I put a couple branches on the coals and stirred the ashes until they took flame. I contemplated just conjuring warmth but with my mouth swollen I wasn't sure if I could enunciate clearly enough for a proper spell. I wrapped myself in my blanket, and saw the other one hanging on a limb near the fire. I rose, slowly, and walked to it. It felt dry when I ran my fingers over the heavy cloth. I pulled the other blanket from the branch and brought it around to cover Bourent.

I never got the blanket on him. As I knelt to pull the blanket over him, his arm came out and grabbed my throat. I was gasping and struggling to free myself from the iron grip of his fingers when he came fully awake. He released me immediately and rolled up beside me. "Are you alright?"

Nodding as I coughed, I sat back on my still bare ass. Damn the ground was cold. "Yes." I looked at him, wondering why he responded that way. "I'll remember not to do that again."

Bourent frowned. "What were you doing?"

Pointing at the discarded blanket, I pulled my own back around me. "You looked cold."

He grunted slightly and picked up the blanket. "I was fine."

I shrugged and moved back to the rekindled fire. "Didn't mean to disturb you." Bringing my feet under the blanket I sat and stared at the flames.

He regarded me for a few minutes and then settled down with the blanket beneath him. "Do you think you will be able to travel?"

I nodded. "Slowly."

"I washed your robe. It's up on that branch." He pointed behind me. "When day breaks, go to the creek and wash."

I had no idea where "the creek" was but that didn't matter. I could smell myself and that was reason enough to do as I was told. Day came quickly, and Bourent tossed a few heating stones into the coals before pulling my robe from the branch and looking at me impatiently. "The creek is this way."

Without making a sound, he moved away from the camp. It was quite amazing to watch, because silent movement seemed natural to him. He simply never stepped on anything that would make noise. I shuffled along sounding like a troupe of soldiers in comparison. It took a few minutes to get to the creek. Once there, Bourent put my robe on the rocks, and pulled off his tunic. He had sat down to remove his boots when he realized I was staring. "You're still not sure footed, Gaerlin. I'll be here to keep you from falling."

That made sense, though it didn't change the fact that I was naked, in full daylight, with a man I didn't know. It shouldn't have mattered. I'd bathed in creeks with Master Almidion numerous times in our travels. I ran my fingers through my hair nervously and tried not to watch.

He stripped off his breeches and strode into the chilly water. The early sunlight danced on his wide back and hard, lean muscles. They had been all but hidden in his clothes. The water only came to his thighs and he began to splash himself vigorously. I swallowed as he turned to look at me. I had never seen a hairy man before; he seemed so bestial. Bourent had a solid layer of fur that extended from across his chest down his stomach to his hips; his arms and legs were equally as hairy. He cocked his head. "Wash."

I shook myself out of my trance and pulled off the blanket. My body was nothing like his. Pale, smooth, with only wafts of hair at my pelvis and under my arms, it was almost like we were different species. I carefully moved into the icy water and got as deep as I could, hoping to hide myself below the surface. The water never got deeper than just below my hips, but I was able to get myself washed adequately. I slipped once, and Bourent was there before I tipped more than a little ways.

He held me, close to but not pressed against him. His warmth, in contrast to the chill of the water, made me flush. After a moment, he loosened his grip. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Sorry."

He grunted, sounding irritated, as he let me go. Bourent walked out and donned his breeches while keeping an eye on me. Once I was safely out and put on my robe, he carried his tunic and boots on our slow return to camp. He dropped the hot stones in the water sack and added some herbs for tea. I was surprised to realize he used herbs he had picked as we returned to the camp. He sat shirtless near the fire until his fur dried. He didn't offer any conversation and I wasn't feeling up to carrying one alone.

He didn't speak 'til he had put on another tunic and his boots. "How did you come into the company of goblins?"

I shuddered. "They destroyed my home and village."

"Where was that?"

"Seer's Watch."

Bourent flinched. "Seer's Watch?"

I nodded.

He sat back down and sighed. "That was where I was headed when I came across your captors." His shoulders sagged a bit. "I had a message to deliver."

I blinked. 'To whom?"

"Almidion of Korenth."

My sight blurred a little as my eyes filled with tears. "Almidion is dead. They killed him before burning the town and dragging the survivors away." His eyes watched me as I pulled back from the grief. I would have time to grieve, but it served no purpose at present. "He was my master."

Bourent's eyes lit up. "You were his apprentice?"

"Not that I did anything to prevent this." I nodded, acknowledging my failure aloud for the first time. "I did little more than infuriate the goblins."

He reached into his pack, ignoring my mood, and pulled out a small scroll tube. "This should go to you then." He tossed it to me, and I juggled the tube for a moment before grasping it firmly.

The letter within was from the Elder of the Town of Imsen.

Dear Friend,

I wish I were writing with good tidings, but I fear it is not so. Not six months ago, Mialys passed. She had no apprentice and now, without her aid and magics, the darkness returns slowly to the woods. I beseech you to send one of your seers unto us. Without the presence of a magic worker, our people grow ever fearful that the evil will rise again.

I would not ask if I were not convinced that something dreadful lurks just beyond my influence. If you have no one to aid us, please send my messenger on to someone who may be able to help.

Eternally,

Elsmeth Irisoen

I had met Elsmeth, once; she had come to visit Almidion about some matter or another. I never quite knew what. It had been clear that she and my master had been good and dear friends. I looked at the letter again before lifting my eyes to look at Bourent. "Can you see me safely to Seer's Watch?"

He nodded. "By horse we can get there in a few days. It would be well over a week by foot."

I grunted. "I know."

"Then you will help?"

Frowning, I looked at the note again. "I have something I have to do first."

"What?"

I looked back at him with my one good eye. "Find my people and save them. If I can't, I'll satisfy myself with killing their murderers."

He seemed to chew on that for a moment, and then nodded. "I will see you to Seer's Watch and then we will hunt your enemies." His eyes met mine. "When that is done, you will return to Imsen with me?"

Nodding, I rolled the scroll back up and replaced it in the tube. "You help me with this, and I will follow you wherever you want me to go."

A call for answers!

2007-11-04T00:49:46Z

okay, I can find nowhere on the internet (by the searches I have tried) to find a definitive list of the "types" of gay men (aka. bears, otters, wolves, twinks, chicken, hunk, troll, polar bears, muscle bears, leathermen, etc.). I also can not find a codified list of the "signals" used for cruising for sex.

If you know any of this stuff, drop a response with the info here for me so I can make a resource for all those less educated individuals who might want this kind of data!

(this is also just a fun bit of research I can use in stories later)

Awakenings - Chapter 06

2007-11-02T02:13:47Z

"I'm not so sure about this," I commented as Patrick descended the steps of the Kings Row PYRC to greet me.

"I was nervous my first few meetings also, Jason, but you're doing a great service," he assured me as we shook hands.

"Yeah," I breathed, looking at the front doors like the gates of the Zig in Bricks.

"The Paragon Youth Recreation Center Outreach Programs are the last safe place our kids have before they end up on the streets." Patrick put his hand on my shoulder as we started up the steps.

"Yeah," I said again, with no more enthusiasm than before.

Patrick raised an eyebrow at me as we got to the doors.

I shrugged. "I don't know what kind of example I am, you know? I did time on the streets, I was in the gangs, I did shit I'm not proud of." I took a breath. "And I'm not so sure I'm any better a person now than I was then."

Patrick pulled open the doors. "That's because you weren't a 'bad person' then, Jason. We all make mistakes. We all do things we aren't proud of. Hell, I've done more than most -- probably a lot more than you." He grinned at my doubtful glance. "I was out there longer than you were."

I huffed, but didn't argue.

"This is like an AA meeting. Some people are here trying to get off the streets, and some are here because their loved ones are on the streets. What we all have in common, you, me, and everyone in that room, is that our lives have been touched by the gangs. Most are trying to get their lives back."

"So this is kind of a family vocation, huh?" I asked, "Helping lost souls?"

Patrick laughed. "I'm not so sure about people's souls; that's Amanda's shtick." He snapped his fingers, allowing blue-white flame to flicker above them. "If anything, I'm the gate keeper to someplace no one wants to visit."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, unimpressed. I spent so much time working with Blaize that pyrokinesis didn't even surprise me any longer. "So, what do I say to them?"

"Just be honest, as open as you're comfortable being, and know that you don't have to be perfect." We got to the door beyond which I knew there was no return.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I mumbled as Patrick put his hand on the knob.

"I can," Patrick affirmed, smiling at me as I looked at him. "Amanda believes in you, and though it took me years to admit it, she's hardly ever wrong."

"Let's hope I'm not the exception to the rule," I retorted, but there wasn't any conviction in it. Patrick was one of the most sincere people I'd met since gaining my abilities. He was who he claimed to be and believed everything he said.

"How'd it go yesterday?" Janet asked as she settled down on the stool beside me.

I nursed my latte and shrugged. "It went fine."

Jonathan chuckled as he finished drying a mug. "Don't mind him; he's just sulking."

I frowned at him. "No comments from the peanut gallery."

"Oh boy," Janet groaned as she rolled her eyes. "I'll need chocolate for this."

"For what?" I scowled.

"To fortify me to sit through your piss and vinegar bath," she retorted.

I mumbled a few choice words under my breath and sipped my coffee again.

She waited until she had one of Jonathan's magic mixtures of milk and chocolate before saying anything more. "You are the sulkiest guy I know," she observed between sips, "save for Lenny... though he's more just depressed than sulky."

"Hell, if I leaked darkness like other people perspire, I'd be depressed too," I replied. "Poor guy." I took another sip of my coffee. "And I don't sulk."

Jonathan snorted, but wandered away without acknowledging my baleful glare.

"Uh huh," Janet replied in a neutral tone, "Does Dr. Perrin buy that crap?"

"She's a telepath, what do you think?"

Janet shrugged. "I think you're feeling sorry for yourself. You've come face to face with someone who went a lot further down the rabbit hole than you did and has made something of his life. He's well adjusted, happy, and is making the world a better place without having to use his powers."

"He isn't allowed to use his powers," I corrected, "that's part of the terms of his probation."

"Regardless," Janet ignored me, "he's accepted who he was and knows who he is. He's turned his mistakes into tools to help others." She sipped her chocolate again. "What I think is that you're worried you don’t measure up."

I glared at her, but didn't say anything. I was out of excuses and out of coffee too.

"I'll give you a hint," she said, before she leaned over and kissed my cheek, whispering, "You're just as much a man as Patrick, or Urioch, or Brawler. Stop trying to measure yourself to some bullshit, macho standards. Be you, Jason, and let yourself be the person the rest of us see."

I blushed, and grinned into my coffee cup. It was hard to sit there and know, really know, that people meant what they said - especially when it was something positive about me. I still wasn't used to thinking of myself that way.

"Thanks, Janet."

"You're welcome."

Amanda was never late. She was probably the most time obsessed person I'd ever known. I looked back at the desk nurse, who gave me a sympathetic smile but said nothing about the delay. About ten minutes after our appointment was supposed to start, Amanda came rolling out of the elevators. "I'm sorry, Jason. I should have rescheduled our session." She looked exhausted and I could feel the worry that she was keeping from her features and voice.

"Sure, no problem."

She shook her head. "Come on into my office. I'm here now so we might as well have our weekly talk."

I shut the door as she wheeled to her desk and pulled off her gloves. "Are you okay?"

Amanda looked at me, and I felt her shields go up. We studied each other for a moment, and she sighed. "No, actually, I'm not."

"We can reschedule. I don't mind." I wasn't hedging out of my session. I liked my sessions with Amanda. I didn't like the feeling I was getting from her. She was really upset. I'd never felt her so wound up and out of sorts.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda nodded. "You're probably right. I should have canceled everything for today." Amanda's cell went off, and she answered it. The wave of emotion that hit me almost knocked me down. She gripped the phone, tears pooling in her eyes as she found her voice. "I'll be right there."

I looked at her, not knowing if I should leave or stay. Amanda wasn't just my shrink, she was a friend. "Anything I can do?"

Amanda looked at me, shutting off her phone. She shook her head. "No. Thanks. I have to get back over to Chiron Medical." She was holding it together by a thread. "I need to get to Patrick."

"Okay." I stepped back as she slid back on her gloves. Chiron was over in Atlas Park. It would take her a while to get there. Being a crip was a pain. "I could get you there faster."

Amanda looked at me for a moment. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Soon as we're outside, I'll just fly you and the chair over to the tram and then from the tram to Chiron once we get to Atlas."

"You aren't supposed to use your powers without supervision," she objected without conviction.

We got outside and I gripped her chair, lifting us into the air. My evening flights with Urioch were paying off. I could fly a hell of a lot faster than I used to. "You're my shrink; I'd say you have the authority to supervise the use of my powers."

She didn't try to object again. "Thanks Jason."

We got to Chiron in under a half hour, which was a miracle considering the trams were full with morning commuters. There was a hell of a lot of commotion as we landed. The emergency entrance doors looked scorched. There was some smoking rising from the foyer. Amanda flagged down one of the ER nurses trying to catch her breath. "Rebecca, what happened?"

"I'm sorry, Amanda," she explained between gasps of fresh air, " We tried to keep him calm, but he wouldn't wait for you to get here. He demanded to know what was going on."

"Oh no." Amanda looked from the nurse to the door. "What idiot told him?"

"Dr. Kensington." Rebecca shook her head. "We warned him that we had to keep Patrick in the dark and calm until you arrived, but he said that the man had a right to know." She cringed. "Dr. Kensington is lucky to be alive. It was horrible. Flames erupted everywhere."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Amanda kept hunting for clues as she talked. Her eyes were taking in everything, like some kind of detective.

She shook her head. "Only a few minor burns, some smoke inhalation. Nothing serious. The sprinklers came on almost instantly. More property damage than anything else."

"Where is Patrick?"

"I don't know. He ran from ER surrounded in flame, screaming he was going to kill them."

I blinked, looking at Amanda as she dropped her face in her hands. "Kill who?"

Amanda looked up at me, the tears finally falling. "The Vahzalok. They tried to harvest Kim along with a group of parents bringing their kids back from a play." Amanda looked like she was going to be sick. "Apparently children aren't good for body parts, maybe because they're too small. Jessica and Ken are with Kim's parents." I knew what happened to people who were caught by Vahzalok. Dissected alive for your body parts was a gruesome way to go. "She'd been in emergency surgery since last night. I didn't get many details, but according to the heroes who fought off the Mortificators and Reapers, the Vahz had all but cut her apart by the time they got there."

"Is Pat powerful enough to take on Vahzalok?" I knew he was more powerful than Blaize was. They'd had a good time tossing about fire balls the previous week during my birthday party.

"With a team, sure, but Kim was his world. He's out there, not thinking clearly, hunting alone."

And he was fucking up the conditions of his parole. His kids wouldn't lose one parent they'd lose both, because even if Patrick was stopped before the Vahz could take him down, he'd be sent back to the Zig for sure.

Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. "Can you track him?" Amanda was a telepath. I had no idea what her range was.

Amanda's brows furrowed. "Maybe, but Patrick can move fast."

"So can I," I replied while hefting us into the air. "Which way?"

Closing her eyes, Amanda concentrated for a minute, and then pointed. "That way."

We soared into the street and up. I tried not to think about how much trouble I was going to get into for what I was doing. For once I wished I had a way to call for back up. The God Damn rules! I spent my time protecting playgrounds and work sites while there were people dying out there. As we soared toward the Argosy Industrial District, I saw a trail of smoke rising near the warehouses. "Smoke signals," I pointed as I changed our heading.

We slowed over the back fences, noting that there was a melted area about the size of a person. Near some smoldering crates were burnt corpses. The smell of roasted flesh left me gagging. Amanda groaned, "Patrick, what are you doing?" She closed her eyes and I could feel her sending. She must have been trying to reach Patrick, but she opened her eyes, frustrated. "That way."

It felt like we were chasing a rabid rat in a maze. We found other burnt areas, two corpses, and a place where it looked like an explosion had gone off. There were sirens in the distance, EMS, fire rescue and police. Maybe heroes had been called in as well. We followed Amanda's feeling and the occasional burnt trail, to the barrier walls. Where there should have been a solid grate to prevent access to the sewer system, there was only slagged metal. I set Amanda and chair down as we looked at the maw into the darkness. "God. I hate the sewers." I'd had my fill of climbing around the old sewer systems while in the Skulls.

"We can't go in there, Jason. No lights. No maps." Amanda stared helplessly at the melted grate.

"You have your cell?" I looked into the darkness beyond the grate as she fished in her purse.

"Yes." She held it up.

"Call for help. Tell them where you are, or maybe they can use the communication grid to locate you." I didn't trust that the metal wouldn't burn me. Though not glowing, I could feel the heat from the bars. He hadn't been through there very long ago. "I'll see if I can find him."

"Jason, that's insane."

I stared back at her, raked my hand like a claw at the grate, and ripped it from the cement with my thoughts. Yeah, I was a lot more powerful than I had been in the hospital. "I'll be careful. Just get someone here fast!"

Grabbing her at belt, she pulled off a little box and threw it to me. "Take my beeper. It has a GPS signal in it. All Emergency Services people had to have them when we were searching for survivors after the war. I'm still in the EMS system."

Snapping the thing onto the waist of my jeans, I turned to the entrance. "You're the best, Amanda."

"Jason?" I looked back at her. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Me?" I leapt into the darkness before she could give me what was certain to be a "yes you" look. I never did anything stupid. Thoughtless, impetuous, and arrogant maybe, but I was never stupid. Hah!

Dark. In addition to the smell, the dampness, the distracting sounds of dripping water and scurrying little things I probably didn't want to see, it was just too damn dark. I tacked another advantage or two to psycho kinesis as I floated slowly through the tunnels. I wasn't walking in shit filled water, and with my power pressing against the walls I didn't bump into anything. Though it was disgusting, I followed Patrick's trail by using my nose. I dropped to a lower level of the sewer system into a larger space. The room smelled of burnt hair, dung and piss. There were even some smoldering remains that gave off just enough light to cast ghoulish shadows on the walls. I was getting close. Even zombie flesh didn't burn very long. Of course, the explosion that echoed from a tunnel to my left was a much better clue. Soaring up and into the tunnel, I could see fire light and green luminance in the distance.

Patrick yelled curses which I could barely hear over the roar of flames, the explosions, and the unearthly sound of an Edilon's power. After one massive explosion of fire, the battle seemed to end. I paused at the opening to the next chamber and looked in. There were charred corpses everywhere. At the far side of the chamber was the slightly glowing, burnt body of an Edilon. This one had been a man. A bit further away, bone-butchers, most of them burnt, were hacking and cursing. Another small burst of flame erupted from the group, sending them tumbling back, some rolling in the waste water to douse the flames. I retched.

Patrick struggled to get to his feet as I gripped the wall, trying not to throw up again. He looked like a raw side of beef. Hacked up, his left arm cut to the bone at the shoulder and hanging limp, and his other arm was missing most of his hand; he looked like the living dead. The fire erupting from his eyes faded to flickers of light as he slumped against the wall. He wasn't going to make it.

The butchers, Urioch had called them Reapers, closed in again. I yelled as I grabbed as many as I could and threw them aside. I soared into the room, hoping not to hit anything in the limited and diminishing light. The fuckers had a few lanterns that had been scattered in the battle and the wavering shadows were hell on my depth perception. I landed beside Patrick, trying not to slip on the slime and blood that were all over the stones. His eyes turned up, dazed, and met mine. "I tried..."

The only warning I had was the sudden change in Patrick's expression. His eyes focused passed me, and I dropped to my knees as a massive fist smashed into the wall where my head had been. I threw my will back, grabbing anything behind me, and thrust as hard as I could. There was a groaned hiss of anger from the thing I sent tumbling away. I spun and held my breath. The thing looked kind of like the latest horror movie version of Frankenstein, but a hell of a lot bigger. If someone took a stitched up zombie, pumped it up on steroids and sent it to the gym for a year, that might have created the thing that was getting up and lumbering back toward me. I waved again, holding it back with my strength. The others were closing in as well. Maybe two normal zombies, if you could call any patchwork thing "normal", and four Reapers were still able to move. I extended my other hand, wrapped my will about the others, and held them all. It was all I could think to do. They weren't heavy. With all my training, I could hold them for a long time. At least, that was what I hoped.

"Jason..." Patrick pointed weakly with the remains of his hand at the huge zombie that was straining against my hold. "Abomination..."

I looked at the thing as it seemed to swell, taking in a deep breath, and then it vomited. The shit erupted from it as it exhaled; spraying us in a greenish, burning slime that felt like it was eating it's way through my flesh. I screamed, blocking most of the stuff with my power, but I couldn't stop it all. I'd never been able to figure out how to hold liquids. I rolled in the water, hoping it would dilute the acid, or whatever the shit was that it spit on me. It worked, kind of. The burning dulled, but didn't stop. I looked up, my vision blurred by pain, as the behemoth hefted me into the air and threw me against the wall. This time I was the one making the sickening crunching sounds. I couldn't even focus. I just whimpered as I slid down the wall and into the muck. I was going to die.

"More parts," the Reaper gloated as he raised a demented looking cleaver above me. I closed my eyes and counted out my last moments, wishing I'd done so many things differently. The blow never came.

The room resonated with a soft, humming tone that was like a bell or tuning fork being struck. I snapped open my eyes. Soft, silver white light sparkled in the air, swirling and dancing about the Reapers and Cadavers. I could barely make out a figure at the far end of the room, her hands extended, while another figure rose up behind her like a blue-white star. The Reaper that stood, enthralled by whatever had filled the room, blew apart as a blue white blast scattered his remains. I recognized the light and the sound of Urioch's energy bolts as he unleashed blue death upon the remaining Vahzalok. I just stared, unable to say anything, as Magdalene crossed the room, the silver light dissipating as she knelt beside me. "We're here, Jason. Hold on."

I wanted to hold on, I really did, but I just couldn't. I felt my heart hiccup. It didn't' hurt. It was just a little sensation before everything started to relax. I couldn't see Magdalene any longer. My vision went a kind of white and silver before going black.

2000 words a day!

2007-11-01T19:48:30Z

395 / 50,000

Yes, I know this is madness!
*runs off, screaming and rending my hair, to write some more!*

And so it Begins!

2007-11-01T18:28:14Z

I've already done two NaNo Novels in the past 2 years, so I really don't feel like I need to prove that I can complete yet another "new story". Instead, I'm going to use my month to finish or continue in process works. I may possibly start some new stuff, but I have so many series and stories that need to be moved along that I don't feel compelled to add more to the "in process" pile.

Following mallie_kite's example, I'm going to list out how I'm approaching this nano.

1) TorchSong: I only have 3-5 more chapters to go before this novel is done... maybe 25,000 words tops. This is my EPIC... Robert Jordan has nothing on me when it comes to verbosity! At present that little tale is over 200,000 words and climbing!

2) Awakenings: I have so many edits and additions to do to my most recent fan-fiction that I just have to put a few more chapters out. Hell, there isn't any SEX until like chapter 8... and I've only posted the first 5! My readers must really think I'm slacking off at this point! *snort*

3) Life Light: One of my few collaborative efforts. My co-author intends to give me back chapters to continue on our novel... if she does, then I'll do my best to get something back to her before the end of the month.

4) the Conquered: I haven't posted a new chapter on this epic collaboration, continuing series story, since early this year (February I think). It is time for another installment!

If those four little projects don't net me at least 50,000 words, I'll start on my erotic-horror short story I plan to submit for an gay-horror anthology.

Yes, I'm at it again!

2007-10-31T02:39:04Z

In two days I once again delve into the madness known as NANOWRIMO!

This is total insanity, as Real Life is not presently set such that I have much time for writing, but I have to get back in the saddle somehow!

Wish me Luck!

Torch Song - Chapter 32

2007-06-28T20:29:14Z

I looked in the mirror as the last of my fire receded from my face and smiled; it was a tired smile, but my eyes looked bright and alert. "There," I declared, turning around for inspection. "How do I look?"

Pars turned away from his mirror and leaned in to examine my efforts. He scrutinized my face, coming ever closer until his lips brushed mine. "Beautiful," he murmured as he pulled back.

"You're going to leave color on my lips," I objected, with no conviction. "Not to mention; you're ruining your own efforts."

He rolled his eyes. "There is no one down there I need to impress."

"Stubborn, as always," I retorted, turning back to the mirror to remove the color from my lips. "Do you intend to allow that swaggering peacock cousin of yours see you as anything less than radiant?"

"He only sees what he wants to see," Pars replied as he turned back to his reflection and touched up his lip color. "There is only one person's opinion that matters to me, and she approves of me unshorn sheep-like or not."

I grinned. "I love you unshorn or well groomed, but I will admit that your groomed appearance is most pleasing to me."

Pars closed in upon his reflection, tilting his head so that the light illuminated the shadows around his eyes, and frowned. "No amount of makeup will fix this luggage," he complained. "Unlike my mistress fair, I have no fire to bring the life back to my eyes and cheeks."

I straightened up and raised an eyebrow at a flicker of memory that was not my own. "And who says you do not?" I asked as I walked over to him. "You, sir, have never asked."

Pars blinked. "I didn't know it was an option."

I lifted my hands, holding my palms close to his face. My fire rose, softly filling the space between my hands and his face, and gently sank into him. Pars closed his eyes; trusting me not to ruin him. When I pulled my hands away, his complexion looked brighter; it was also clear of any makeup. "Of course, now you must repeat your efforts."

Pars examined his reflection again. "Improving upon a clear and bright foundation is simple," he commented as he did some minor and rapid work upon his face. Setting down his brushes, he smiled at me. "Less is more."

"I agree," I complimented him as I held up his jacket, "and surely that blond king will have on twice as much makeup in hopes of sparkling brighter than everyone else." I slid his jacket over his shoulders and smoothed down the back as he buttoned the front. "And save possibly for Lord Trendal, no one shall look more striking than my betrothed."

Pars raised an eyebrow at me. "You'd leave me for my father?"

"Goddess no," I assured him, "but you were cut from the same stone, so I must concede him the right of prior magnificence."

Pars grinned. "You're laying it on thick, madam."

I raised my eyebrows as I smiled. "Flattery works, especially when it is sincere."

"And you plan to flatter every man but my cousin don't you." Pars was too quick to discover my schemes.

I checked myself one last time before heading for the door. "Am I petty to admit I do not like him?"

"No," he replied as we stepped into the hall. "You would be petty if you slighted him because of it."

I sighed. "Very well; if he looks well I shall tell him so."

"A most gracious concession," Pars said with no little humor.

I heard Laromind's voice rising in song as we approached the stairs. "Are we ready for this?"

Pars smiled. "In looks I believe Laromind will find himself in good company with Deolin, and as far as musical accomplishment, I think but an innocent suggestion of a duet with Lord Jornam will pull all attention from our golden king."

I lifted an eyebrow at Pars as we descended the stairs. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" he asked; his expression inscrutable.

"You can be a vicious little king when you choose to be," I replied quietly as we approached the door.

"Vicious yes; never little."

I rolled my eyes. "We'll discuss your ego, in all its representations, at some other time."

Pars paused at the door listened. "The song is almost over." We waited until the applause had stilled before Pars pushed open the door. His smile rose like the morning sun. "I hope our tardiness was not an inconvenience."

I scanned the room quickly. Wen and Jornam sat nearest the piano. Iramali and Deolin sat upon the couch. Trendal stood at the service, preparing a drink. Iragalys stood near the windows, her expression unreadable. Harlae and Rondel stood near the hearth. Laromind, as expected, sat at the piano. "It is wonderful to see you again," I said to the room in general.

Wen, Jornam, Iramali and Deolin rose as we entered.

"Pars, Janel," Wen greeted us with unmasked delight, "we despaired that your long efforts in the towers would deprive us of your company." She approached, hugging her nephew and then myself. "You look glorious." She looked back at Jornam. "Do they not my dear?"

Jornam smiled. "Indeed. The rush toward the altar has not worn them out yet."

I grinned and accepted a more reserved hug from Jornam. "Lady Iragalys and Lord Trendal have buffered us from much of the stress and fuss."

Wen laughed. "And here I came early, thinking I would have to save you from my sister's drive for perfection." She smiled at her younger sibling. "My assistance is obviously unnecessary."

"But your company is always welcome," Iragalys assured her as Trendal handed her a refreshed drink.

Laromind rose. "I am played out," he declared, "possibly the happy couple can entertain us."

Pars's smile dimmed a little, but he maintained it admirably well. "We will gladly provide what respite we can." He looked at me. "The tenor?"

"You might as well bring both," I eyed Jornam. "I suspect his lordship will want a chance to test my skill again."

"I would not wish to tax your patience," Jornam replied humbly, though he could not mask the interest in his eyes.

"Are your recorders in the music room?" I asked, to which Jornam nodded. I looked at Pars. "Would you bring Jornam's as well?"

"Of course," Pars replied, nodding to his uncle.

"I will help you," Jornam offered, moving with Pars to the door.

Laromind looked none too pleased when Pars left to do as I asked. How unfortunate for him; I could not have cared less. "You are looking well, Laromind. Travel must agree with you."

He inclined his head, but did not return my compliment before heading for the service to refill his glass. His sister, however, did.

"It is you who looks well, Janel," Harlae said as she approached to take my hands. "And Pars has never looked more radiant."

"Did I not say she was the right woman for my nephew?" Wen asked; her gaze returning to Iragalys.

"Indeed you did," Iragalys replied, "most emphatically and on more than a few occasions." She turned her attention to me. "You need not entertain, Janel; you and Pars have been most diligent in your pursuits these last few days."

I smiled. "Thank you, but I am happy to do so." Playing also kept me from thinking upon subjects I was not desirous to explore further. I did not need to explore further; my mother had done so before me and her memories were clear enough. Another week and we would be done with our obligations. With luck, we would leave with Pel, and never look back.

The evening progressed without incident. I played while Pars sang. Jornam and I played several duets. Pars sang with Deolin and consented to a duet with Laromind. It would have been a pleasant distraction from my studies, were it not for the weight of Laromind's gaze always upon Pars or myself. His displeasure boiled so close to the surface that I was surprised it did not melt his makeup. Fortunately, he kept his displeasure under close regulation; for that I was most thankful.

I kissed Pars briefly before he stepped from the coach. "We will meet you for tea by midmorning."

Pars smiled at me as he stepped out and closed the door. "All will be well, Janel. I am certain the fittings will be nothing but a few pins and tucks."

"Don't give Lesalde too much grief," Trendal implored Pars.

"No more than she gives me," Pars promised, then tapped the side of the carriage to send us on our way.

Trendal looked at me. "That is one battle I am glad to miss."

"You need only lend me moral support while Mistress Geola turns me into a living pin cushion," I joked, feeling far more nervous than I sounded.

Trendal smiled. "You will be a graceful flame, illuminating Pars's beauty for all to admire."

I laughed. "As is my task for one day." I shook my head. "It is a lot of fuss and frenzy over a simple thing; we commit to each other before Goddess, witnessed by family and friends. All the trappings over complicate the matter."

Trendal shrugged. "If you are fortunate, you will only marry once. Should not the union of two souls be celebrated and honored?"

I sat back as the carriage continued toward our destination. "It feels like that union happened a lifetime ago," I sighed and looked at Trendal. "Goddess bound our souls together through trials most people never face. No ceremony, no matter how beautiful, can be more significant than that."

Trendal smiled. "As Pars advised: all will be well."

In ceremony, pomp and circumstance I had no doubt but that all would be well. It was in the quiet, and in the dark, unseen and unspoken, there was ill. It was an illness that ate away at the beauty of the Seven Matrians, darkening even the light of torch fire. I could no longer look upon the streets and not see it. The brighter the light of Cradalym only meant that the shadows cast here were darker and deeper. I tried not to look into those shadows; there was nothing but pain and loss there. I lifted my thoughts from dark places as the carriage stopped.

Trendal opened the door carriage door. "Don't look so forlorn, Janel. This will be nothing."

"Oh, I do hope my dress will be a bit more substantial than that," I replied, hoping that humor would brighten my ever darkening mood. "I have not the curves of Goddess to wear something depending upon my natural supports."

Trendal laughed. "I am sure Mistress Geola will provide a dress that not only flatters the groom, but yourself as well."

I smiled as he shut the carriage door. "If she can do thus, then I shall declare her a miracle worker to be sure."

We entered Geola's shop smiling, and were greeted by a smile in kind.

"Good morning, Mistress Janel." Geola looked at me over her detail spectacles as she finished a stitch on a dress at the center of the shop. It was royal blue velvet with silver embroidery and pearl accents. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. She looked from my stunned expression to the dress and sighed. "I hate to be the bearer of sad tidings, Mistress, but this is not your dress."

A moment's hope dashed, but I bolstered my smile admirably. "I do not think I would fare well with that cut," I replied, "it is obviously meant for a woman of more divine proportions."

Geola laughed. "Indeed, but Goddess made us in beautiful varieties, mistress, so your proportions are no less divine."

"You have a gilded tongue, Mistress Geola."

"I speak as I see," she replied, gesturing to two helpers who carefully lifted the mannequin and carried it, dress and all, from the room. "You dress will be out directly." Brushing off her hands on her apron, she walked to the service near her desk. "Tea?"

"Thank you, no," I replied, wanting nothing more to get this over with.

"I would be delighted," Trendal replied, crossing to the service as Geola poured.

"Cream, sugar?"

"Both," he replied.

Geola dropped in the sugar and stirred in the cream before handing the cup to Trendal. She had her own tea ready by the time her assistants returned with another mannequin. The dress upon it was nearly black, yet where the light fell across it the fabric shined a rich green. Trimmed with gold, the dress hung upon the mannequin in simple elegance. About the neck were five strands of cream pearls.

Geola looked from me to the dress after her assistants retreated, and sipped her tea. "Lesalde picked an impossible fabric for the groom. I had a most difficult time finding a compliment." She looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "I will give your betrothed his due; he argued that pompous diva to a stand still over designs. I hear tell that she went into fits over his refusals."

I smiled. "Pars is anything if he is stubborn."

Geola smiled. "I have always preferred simplicity of design over the fuss Lesalde puts into her work. Do not mistake me to say I think poorly of it; her work is remarkable, but there are times when less is more."

I grinned, thinking of Pars's preference in makeup. Stepping in, I reached for the dress and then stopped, looking at Geola again. "May I?"

"By all means," she replied, sipping her tea. "It is your dress, mistress, it would be most unusual not to examine it before the blessed day."

I ran my fingers over the fabric. It was the soft, soft as a spider's web, but with more weight, nearly the weight of velvet, yet it had no pile. The surface was smooth, like satin, but without the slickness. I could feel the remnants of torch fire in the cloth. "I have never seen material like this."

Geola nodded. "It is made in Opalym, by the hearth holds in the Sillium Valleys. No one outside of those holds knows how it is made, beyond the fact that torch fire is involved."

One of her assistants returned, carrying a box. She set it upon the table near the mannequin and left without comment. Geola set down her tea and moved to the box. "I had to call in a few favors to get these," she said as she unlatched the lid, "but with your hair I simply had to crown the presentation." She opened the box.

I circled the dress, eyeing it as I moved to take a closer look at the contents of the box Within were pearl and gold earrings, and hair combs. They, like the cloth of the dress, had remnants of torch fire within them.

"Torch fire crafted?" I asked as I studied them.

"Indeed," Geola confirmed. "Mistress Taellys is a blessed artist."

Geola allowed me time to admire the works she had put out for me, and finished her tea before she returned to business. "Would you like help with the dress, Janel?"

I frowned, looking at the dress again. "No, I can manage it well enough. I will come out to be laced up correctly."

She nodded. "Then let us get this off your double and upon you. I doubt we will need to do much; I was most particular with my measurements, but always best to be sure."

Geola disrobed the mannequin with the help of an assistant, and placed the dress carefully behind the dressing screen. I stepped behind the screen and prayed that the dress would fit without need for modifications. I had strapped myself into foundation garments that would work under the most form following designs, but without Pars to help dress me, more complicated garments were a trial.

I managed to get the dress on without doing damage to it, or myself, but managing the closures up the back was beyond me. Resigned that I would need assistance, I pondered my options. Geola was too keen not to notice and question my foundations. That left Trendal, who was by no means an ignorant man. I peeked around the corner, resolved to get this over with. "Lord Trendal?" I asked as he looked up from his tea. "Would you be so kind as to help with the closures?"

He set down his tea and rose to my aid. "I would be delighted."

I waited behind the screen, breathing slowly and striving to remain calm. No one but Pars and my mother had ever helped me with my clothes. Once he was behind the screen, I lifted my hair to allow him access to the back of the dress.

Trendal eyed the fastenings for a moment, and then started at the bottom. He took his time, gently adjusting the fabric as he went to eliminate stretch lines or unsightly pulls. When he was done, I released my hair and shifted my shoulders to allow the fabric to return to its proper locations.

"Problems?" Geola asked from beyond the screen.

I turned, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Trendal.

"Not that I see," Trendal responded, "but it would be best to see this in full light."

I took a slow breath as Trendal stepped back, and then emerged from the dressing area. I walked to the central podium and stepped upon it.

Geola circled me, scrutinizing the hang of the fabric, cocking her head to the side as she tapped her glasses to her lips. Finally, to my relief, she nodded with a smile. "I do believe we got it right the first time."

I cast my gaze towards the ceiling, Thank Goddess.

After freeing myself from the ceremonial vestments, I joined Trendal and Geola for a cup of tea while her assistants packed the dress and jewelry.

"Thank you again, Mistress Geola," I said most earnestly as I sipped my tea. "I know not what we would have done without your skill and wisdom."

"Suffered through Lesalde's eccentricities with no one to balance her extremes of expression and artistic license." Geola sipped her tea again. "I was most honored by Lady Iragalys's confidence and matronage. I hope I lived up to her faith."

"Most certainly," Trendal assured her as the packaged items were returned to us. "We thank you for all your efforts."

Geola bid us safe journeys and joy as we left her with our treasures. Trendal placed the packages in the coach, and then waited for me to get in.

I frowned. My fitting went so effortlessly that we were left with at least an hour, possible two, before Pars would be free of Lesalde. With the dress and jewelry safely stored in the coach, I had no desire to sit and wait for hours.

"May we walk for a while, Lord Trendal?"

"As you wish," he replied., stepping out of the coach, and sending it back to the estate to have the dress and jewelry safely stored in my rooms. He nodded in the general direction we would eventually have to travel, and we began to walk.

Trendal walked beside me as we wandered our way slowly towards our midmorning tea with Pars. My thoughts were drawn, inexorably, to darker places. The city did not look the same since my mother's memories had begun mingling with my own. Thankfully, there was no confusion of identity. I knew my memories from hers like I knew my thoughts and ideas from those I had read in scrolls or books. I was ever surprised to recognize something, or someplace, as I traveled through Cradelym.

"Your mind is elsewhere," Trendal observed, as we stopped at a corner.

I nodded, looking at the streets briefly before choosing a direction. "I have a great many thoughts warring in my head."

"Any you wish to share?" He asked as he maintained his stride beside mine.

"No," replied, a bit too harshly. I sighed and smiled up at him as best I could. "I do appreciate your concern, Lord Trendal, but you need not the burden of my thoughts. I share what I can with Pars," I grinned, trying to lighten my mood as I rolled my eyes, "when he insists." That, at least caused Trendal to smile. "But there are no answers to my questions." At least none I wish to hear, I thought to myself.

The sensation of familiar torch fire drew my attention from our conversation. A messenger from Iragalys circled us as we approached the next cross street. I held up my hand, and it lighted upon it briefly before burning down to a small note. I opened it, scanning it briefly, and then read it to Trendal.

"Janel, your uncle has arrived."

"Please meet Pars for me," I asked Lord Trendal as I stepped out of the carriage.

"I shall bring him home directly."

Nodding, I stepped away from the carriage and watched it pull away from the house and head for the gates. Rubbing my palms against my thighs, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Iragalys was home, in her study, with a torch bearer whose flame I did not recognize. I pondered if the torchbearer was my uncle's niece, Hemalgan Tyrasin, when a small spark of torch fire flit from the house to me.

"Your uncle and cousin are with me in my study, Janel. Please join us when you are ready." The words were no more than a whisper, as if mumbled into one's glass for none to hear. Lady Iragalys was being most considerate; it almost worried me.

I walked into the house at a slow, but steady pace. I did not make it through the entry hall before a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Didn't the gown fit, Cousin?" Laromind descended the stairs at a languid pace, nursing a glass of crimson fortitude as he moved. "I may call you cousin now, may I not?"

"If you wish," I replied, ignoring my earlier nervousness. My unknown relations were what I feared, not some bottle dependent little drama king.

His smile held more venom than a snake's as he asked again, "No dress?"

"The gown fit exceedingly well," I replied, caring not for his tone or his looks. "It is in good care; I have no need to keep it with me for reassurance."

"I suppose it doesn't matter, really," he sighed, "I am certain it will not be on you long. Pars can be most insatiable when presented with a meal he desires." He sipped wine again. "Have you not found him such?"

This was not a conversation I wished to have, but I could manage a few moments of word play. "Even a man as remarkable as Pars must rest and recover, Cousin. I have yet to find his appetites to be deficient. Of course, I am drawn to him for more than his 'prowess', so I have yet to take the time to measure any of his talents against one another."

"Of which his are so abundant to be sure," Laronmind mused. Then as if he no longer had the attention to devote to repartee, he flicked his fingers dismissively. " Enjoy his appetites while you are able; he will have his fill soon enough, and wish to eat more familiar food."

I opened my mouth to respond, but my retort was over voiced from a nearby doorway.

"Laromind. Were you not going into town to help my sister choose draperies?" Iragalys stood at the door of her study, her eyes inscrutable but fixed upon her nephew.

Laromind shifted, suddenly far less self assured than he was moments before. "I was not feeling decisive this morning, Aunt. I will meet her for lunch and we will shop in the afternoon."

"Considering your usual desire for self-preparation, I suggest you retreat to your baths. You will need to depart within the hour if you wish to meet your mother by midday." There was no suggestion in her tone, or the thrust of her gaze. She did not wait for his response before that gaze shifted to me. "It is good of you to cut your morning short, Janel. I pray there were no problems with Geola?"

"No, none. She did a remarkable job."

Iragalys pushed the door to her study more fully open and stepped back. "You have guests."

All thoughts of the vicious little king vanished as I looked passed Iragalys into her study. A short man with raven hair, silvering at the temples, stood near the hearth, gripping his coffee cup as tightly as I found my chest gripping my breath. I walked, slowly, through the doors, unable to see anything beyond the eyes of the man before me. They were my mother's eyes, the eyes that had watched me my entire life, the eyes that had faded and flickered to dull orbs so many months ago. They looked at me, brimming with moisture.

A tall woman, with soft brown hair and kind eyes, took the cup from my uncle's trembling hands, and stepped away with out a word.

I realized that one of us would have to say the first word, and it should probably be me. "You have my mother's eyes," I said, squeaked really. It wasn't the most appropriate introductory line, but it was all I could think of.

"So do you," he smiled, it trembled a bit but it was painfully sincere, "I should say you have your grandfather's eyes. Your mother and I got ours from him."

I was taller than my uncle, but our frames were similar. He had broader shoulders, as a man should, but his features were more graceful than average. I was not sure what was proper; should I hug him or simply grip his hand? Back home, in Aborah, relatives embraced with abandon. For obvious reasons, it was not a behavior I was accustomed to… I longed for it none the less.

"Forgive me if this is improper," I managed, before pulling him to me, "but in Aborah, families hug."

My uncle broke down, weeping into my neck as he wrapped his arms about me and held me as if he never wanted to let me go. I cried into his hair.

His niece smiled, her face already damp with tears, as she put her fingers to her lips with what I believed was restrained joy. "Bless Goddess," she whispered, and then quietly followed Iragalys out of the room, leaving us to the painful process of discovery and reunion in private.

Were I not in such a state of disbelief and need, my uncle's frequent desire to touch me, as if to confirm I was real, would have caused me great discomfort. As it was, his actions simply kept me from having to touch him for confirmation. I accepted another cup of tea from him as he returned from the service.

"Thank you," I said, before taking a much more relaxed sip of my tea than our first cups.

"Your mother hated tea," Uncle Renolan chuckled, easing into what I assumed was a more normal humor for him.

I nodded. "She drank it seldom, but during the winters of Aborah, you learn to drink anything that is hot. I do not believe she ever learned to like tea."

"Did you ever know your grandmother, Janel?"

I flinched. "No. She died the year I was born."

He nodded. "About twenty years ago, I woke up from a dead sleep, and clawed at my flesh as if I were on fire. When it passed, I was certain Sharimel was dead," he looked at me, "but I suppose what I felt was Mother's passing." He shrugged. "I had never been close to Mother, but I maybe there was a connection none the less."

No, I thought as I looked at him, you had known correctly. I sipped my tea again. "That must be what it was."

"Did she ever tell you, Janel, why she left?"

"She told me that Goddess called her to bring torch fire into the darkness, so she went to a far place absent of torch fire, and illuminated it." That was the truth, it was what she'd told me, but I knew that it was just a convenient truth to cover over the real truth.

He sighed, his smile filled with an old sadness. "At least I know. Too many people vanish from our lives without any reason why. I am glad to know she lived and that you were there with her in the wilds."

"Tell me of you," I implored, hoping to get away from the dance of truth and shadow I had to do around his questions.

Renolan shrugged. "There is nothing to tell. I am an old widower with no children. Floramyn has been a generous sister, allowing me to live under her roof these many years without complaint." He sipped his tea. "I did my best to be of service. I helped rear my nieces." He nodded toward the study doors. "Tyrasin is the third of five girls. It is hard on the middle children of a large family; easily overlooked. Fortunately, I was able to give my attention to her and her brothers."

"How many children did Floramyn have?"

"Eight: five girls, three boys." Renolan chuckled. "Cronehood came to her quite late; apparently Goddess wished her to compensate for her sisters' misfortunes. The Hemalgan line is assured continuation."

I cocked my head, giving him an inquisitive look. I had not studied the Hemalgan line beyond noting his marriage into it, and that his wife had died within a year of the miscarriage of their first and only child.

"My wife was not the only member of her family to die young. Both younger sisters, my Patimatal, and her sister Leshind, died without children. My wife simply lost the will to live after the loss of our son, and Leshind died in labor." Renolan shook his head sadly.

A dark pit formed in my stomach as I spoke, but I couldn't stop myself. "Was the child a boy?"

Renolan blinked at me. "I beg your pardon?"

"Leshind's child," I said, already knowing the answer, "was it a boy?"

Renolan shrugged. "I do not know. They say her body refused to release the child and that they died together, even though the Erymal nearly burned herself out trying to save them."

I cringed. Something in his words woke a memory that flickered only briefly in my mind before fleeing the light. Just the flicker, which was not enough for any conscious retention, left me nearly sick. I fought back the wave of nausea and struggled to keep my discomfort from showing. What happened, Mother? What did you know? What is it that you refuse to let me see?

My mother remained as silent as the grave.

Awakenings - Chapter 05

2007-06-14T14:37:23Z

Best intentions aside, I didn't take well to being imprisoned in my own apartment. School, training, home, study, eat, sleep, repeat, that was the cycle of my life; if you could call that living. By the end of the first week I was going nuts. I found myself on the balcony, early Friday evening, staring longingly at the city. I watched people walking along the streets, hurrying mostly, on their way to get somewhere before dark. Behind me, the door slid open and Urioch stepped out onto the balcony.

"Would you like to do something tonight, Jason?" He rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

Well, Duh! Hello! Of course I would. I could think of a million things I wanted to do. At least I could until the muscle bound elf decided to ask. What was it about being asked a question that made me clam up? The question I hated the most was, What do you want? I could never answer that one. I pulled my gaze from the streets and shrugged. "Can't go out after dark."

Urioch smiled. "My understanding is that you are not to go out, unescorted, after dark."

I snorted. "Same difference, chaperones are no fun."

"Ah, that is unfortunate. Magdalene provided me with tickets to The Tempest, playing over in Atlas." He held up two tickets. "She gave them to me in hopes that I could expand your cultural horizons."

"The Tempest, huh?" I shot Urioch a wry smile. "I already read the book and saw the remake."

He shrugged, tucking the tickets into his pocket. "I looked forward to going, but if you are not interested, we could do something else."

"Okay, okay. God forbid that I ruin your chance to do something 'cultural'." I rolled my eyes. "What time is the show?"

"Eight-thirty."

It was just after six. "I'm not going to have to wear a tux am I?"

"No, this is not the opera. This is the last production of the Summer Shakespeare season. A nice shirt and slacks will do." He was already wearing black pants and a crisp blue shirt. The bastard had figured I'd go.

"I'll get changed." I'd showered when I got home from the gym, so all I had to do was change clothes..

We got to the theater with a half hour to spare, and found our seats. Airline seats had more room. I was just an athletic guy, not a muscle man, and my shoulders invaded the neighboring seats. It was impossible for Urioch to stay contained in the space. He had an aisle seat, but our shoulders were crammed together in ways that were anything but comfortable. Contrary to popular belief, hard muscle was not ideal for being packed in like sardines.

There was no way I was going to sit, uncomfortably, in barely padded seats, for two hours of a play. Why the hell didn't live theater have stadium seating like the Cineplex did? I was about to say something when Urioch lifted his arm, swung it over, and extended it across the back of my seat. Suddenly, there was room.

I sat there, staring ahead, trying not to look around. It made sense for him to do it. It was the only way to be comfortable. I just couldn't relax. What if someone thought we were fags? I didn't feel anything negative from the people around us. I sensed curiosity at most, and that was probably because the man sitting next to me had pointed ears. As the lights dimmed, I took a deep breath and sank back into my seat. It meant Urioch would have his arm all but draped on my shoulders, but at least it was comfortable. I could live with it if he could. It wasn't anyone's fucking business anyway.

Uncomfortably shared personal space aside, the play was great. I couldn't believe who they had playing the old wizard. "Was that really Malaise?"

"According to the play bill, yes." Urioch handed me the play bill. "The Summer Shakespeare Company is a non-profit organization. The proceeds go toward charitable programs here in Paragon City. They often have popular actors, or in this case famous heroes, who donate their time."

"Kick ass! " I skimmed the info on Malaise. I'd only known he was one of the pre-Rikti hero trainers, like Brawler. He apparently did most of his heroing over in Independence Port, but he also found time to use his illusionary powers for theatrical ventures. I wanted to look up what other plays and movies he'd acted in. Urioch shook his head, smiling at me. "What," I asked, feeling like he knew something I didn't.

"It is a pleasure to witness your enthusiasm, Jason."

I shrugged. Why was it whenever someone pointed out I was happy, it faded? "Not much to be enthused about I guess." My stomach grumbled as we got to the corner. "Is there anyplace open at this point? I'm starved."

Urioch stopped, pulled his monocle out of his pocket, and snapped it on. I didn't understand how the thing could just "connect" to his head like that. There wasn't anything to hold onto. "Yes. What would you like to eat?"

That was so weird. Did he have a computer stored in that little thing? "Uhm, something light? Maybe coffee and a sandwich."

Urioch chuckled. "Were we in Steel Canyon, I would suggest that we go to Jonathan's. The Cauldron is open all night."

"Yeah," I grinned, knowing he would hunt the shelves for any book he hadn't read yet. "But we aren't."

He touched the side of his head and then pulled off the monocle. "There is an Ahab's between Chiron Medical center and the Tram."

"How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The eye piece thing." I gestured at his face as we crossed the street.

Tapping the side of his head, Urioch shrugged. "Sub-dermal implantation. Though I have eidetic memory, I do not have the computational abilities of a computer. Apparently, my people compensated for that through augmentation."

"That'd be so cool. I'd never have to remember a name or number again." I stopped for a moment, staring at the upcoming intersection, and frowned. "Why are we walking?"

"Because you continued to walk after we left the theater."

Grumbling, I pushed off from the ground. When I was with Urioch was one of the few times I was allowed to use my powers. He was my super chaperone; I damn well was going to make use of it. "Let's take the scenic route. I've seen this all by foot before."

Urioch floated up beside me and pointed. "That way."

It was a whole different perspective looking at the lamp lit streets as we soared above them. In a way, the world wasn't as daunting when you could get above it. We landed a block from Ahab's and walked the rest of the way. Flying was a strain on me, but it was getting easier. It also took just enough concentration as to keep my brain occupied. I didn't have as many dark thoughts that way.

I gazed around Ahab's as I sipped my latte, noticing how many people were buying coffee late at night. Paragon really was a twenty-four hour city. "We're obsessed with good coffee," I repeated the corporate slogan under my breath. "They're obsessed with profits." I smiled at Urioch. "I've got to admit that the coffee is better than Thelma's."

"I agree with you, but it is a matter of taste." He sipped his tea. "Thelma serves coffee that I heard described as capable of stripping chrome from a bumper. Many heroes need that sense of 'burning power' to believe their coffee is strong enough for them." He lifted his cup of green tea. "I prefer more subtle flavors. The human sense of taste and smell is not as developed as other species."

"Your's included, I presume," I jibed as I took another swig.

"I can not speak for my race, but the spectrum of my senses is much broader than the average human's." He sipped his tea again. "I can, for example, tell whether or not you are upset simply by catching your scent."

I blinked. "You can?"

He nodded. "I can not read other beings' thoughts, nor can I determine exact emotional states the way your empathy is able to, but with beings of whom I am familiar I can determine their basic moods by taste or smell."

"Ewww… well don't start trying lick me," I laughed.

"The thought had not crossed my mind," Urioch replied.

I shifted in my seat. "Sounds like you have your own biochemical lie detection system."

Urioch smiled. "That is an excellent analogy." He sipped his tea again. "My senses do not work quite as well in areas of strong or multilayered scents and odors. I do not believe I would be able to track someone by scent, for instance." He smiled at me again.

I laughed, imagining a cartoon Urioch with a blood hound nose and floppy ears. "So, how do I smell?"

Urioch paused, considering my joking question seriously. It took me a moment to realize he was actually thinking about it.

"Uhm," I shifted in my seat again, "It was a joke, Urioch."

He shrugged. "As you wish. It was a valid question."

"Trust me, I don't think I want to know what some hyper-sensitive nose thinks of my B.O." I swigged down my last swallow and stood up. "You done?" I asked, nodding at his plate.

"Yes." Urioch finished his tea while I tossed out the remains of our meal. It'd been nice just to sit and talk. We talked a lot more since the Boomtown Taskforce. I thought about it, and realized we'd really started connecting the night we watched Forbidden Planet for the second time. It was like some invisible barrier was gone. As we stepped onto the street, Urioch gripped my shoulder lightly. "I enjoyed this evening, Jason. Thank you for coming."

Urioch had touched me more, in those little, meant nothing ways, over the past couple weeks than he had the entire time we'd known each other. Holding me when I was hysterical at the hospital didn't count. "Yeah," I smiled, looking up the street, "I had fun too."

We'd just taken to the air when Urioch stopped, his head snapping about as if he had seen something. In a practiced motion, he pulled out his monocle, put it on, and soared toward an alley. "Jason, stay out here."

I frowned. What the hell is going on? Stay out here? No fucking way. I followed, flying a bit higher and slower, but I wasn't about to watch Urioch vanish into an alley at half-past eleven without backup.

Light flared from the alley as I got to the corner. It was almost blinding, and was followed by several more blue-white blasts. In the light of Urioch's attacks, I saw figures at the back of the alley. They looked like something out of a bad horror flick. Four were mismatched, walking corpses that had been stitched together from who knew how many different parts. They shambled towards Urioch as he blew them down, only to have them stand back up and try again. Behind the zombies were two freaks wearing something between doctor's scrubs and butcher's clothes. If that wasn't weird enough, they added to the ensemble human rib vests and skull head pieces. Are those really human remains?

A sickening green light, something similar to Demonicalle's power, emanated from a dark figure at the rear of the creatures. Bubbles and swirls of the green stuff erupted from her, filling the end of the alley and engulfing Urioch. At the same time, the butcher like bastards pulled up some high-tech looking cross bows and fired at him. One bolt missed, the other skewered his leg. Urioch hit the ground. I could feel his pain as I closed in, but he didn't even cry out. This is nuts! Urioch wasn't in his armor; he was flesh and blood mortal like anyone else without it.

"Heroes always provide better materials," one of the ribbed fucker's laughed as he gestured at the zombies. "Bring the foo…." He didn't get to finish his orders. Urioch blew the bastard down the alley and smashed him against the far wall. That's when I saw the couple huddled against the back wall. A woman whimpered and cried as she held a man to her. The man looked like someone had taken a butcher's knife to him. He was alive; I could feel it, but barely.

The dark wrapped figure raised her hands. I couldn't figure out what she was wearing. It was kind of like she was completely wrapped up in leather or restraints. None of her could be seen, not even her hair. "Meddlesome hero, stay in the light where you belong." She blasted Urioch with some sort of eerie green energy that caused him to stagger as he struggled to stand. The zombies were way too close to him for my comfort.

"Back off, bitch!" Hefting the dumpster nearest me with my thoughts, I hurled it at the green glowing leather queen. What ever her powers were, they apparently didn't affect non-living objects. She blasted the oncoming dumpster, but it just kept going, mowing down a couple zombies before crushing her against the building. We had some breathing room, but there were still more zombies and that other bone head with the crossbow.

"Jason, get out of here!" Urioch blew back the zombies closest to him as I landed beside him.

"Yeah, right. Stop wasting your breath." Waving at the guy with the crossbow, I sent him into the air as high as I could and let his sorry ass fall like a stone. He hit the ground with a crunch that made my stomach churn. What is this, Dawn of the Dead? "What are these things?"

"Vahzalok," Urioch grunted as he blew apart one of the zombies. "They harvest people for their parts, much like how Clockwork scavenge construction sites and warehouses for materials to build more of themselves."

"That's gross!" Gripping at the air, I grabbed the remaining few Vahz in my thoughts and held them. "Who the fuck does shit like that?"

Blowing apart the remaining zombies, Urioch stood up. He was unsteady because of the bolt lodged in his thigh. I slipped under his arm and braced him. He grunted. "I am fine, Jason. See to the victims while I summon the incarceration units.

I bounded around the rotting, smelly, oozing remains of the things we'd just fought. I could see green, sickening light glowing from behind the dumpster. I didn't think the bitch was down yet. "Uhm, Urioch. I think the leather bitch is still awake."

"I shall deal with the Edilon, Jason."

Edilon? Is that what the bitch is called?

The poor woman was completely traumatized when I got to her. She huddled against the wall, cradling the man she loved, and whimpered incoherently. The guy was fading. We didn't have time to wait for the EMS guys. We were only four blocks from the hospital and the fuckers would circle the city twice before getting to us.

"I'm going to get you some help." Wrapping them gently in my thoughts, I took to the air. Urioch hobbled toward the dumpster. "You are not going to fight that thing alone," I yelled, extending my attention to him and yanking him from the ground. "We're going."

"Jason!"

"No!" The last thing I wanted was to face another hurting, injured Urioch. I could deal with him being upset with me. It was a lot easier to face than pain. I pulled two victims and one irritated alien out of the alley and flew for the hospital. I knew I'd face another round of lectures about not having the authority to get involved, endangering myself, and all the rest of the bullshit. I didn't care any more. If Urioch was going to go into battle without his armor, in the dark, without backup, the fucking rules were off. We won. I made a difference. I wasn't going to sit on my hands any more.

Dark grey was a much better color for hiding in shadows than pure black. Most everything reflected a little bit of light, even at night. Pitch black stood out, dark grey blended into the shadows. That was something Killer taught me. Most of the skulls wore black, black and more black. Gang colors. Killer was smart, the assholes I'd pounded into the pavement over the last week weren't. It was so easy to look like the hapless victim who was stupid enough to be out on the streets at two in the morning. It was easy to catch the would-be muggers by surprise, smash them against the buildings, trees, ground, or just hold them frozen in the air until they passed out because I wouldn't let them breath. I never waited for the incarceration bots to collected the criminals. It was so damn cool. I was making a difference. I wasn't scared all the time.

I slid open the bedroom window and floated silently in. I had to wash the black spray out of my hair before Urioch got up. I dropped Urioch's Freedom Corps communicator on the desk and pulled off my sweatshirt. I had it over my head when I heard Urioch from the doorway. "Jason, what are you doing?"

Fuck! I pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and tried to come up with a plausible lie. "Practicing."

Urioch frowned. "What were you practicing, in dark clothing, at two in the morning?" His gaze fell to the communicator. "With my communicator?"

Shit, shit, shit. "I'm trying to learn to fly, okay?" I hedged. "We don't get time in training any longer. We're doing more in-the-field work instead of training sessions."

He raised an eyebrow, skeptically. Damn chemical lie detector; he probably had me tagged before I opened my mouth.

"The Ice Queen has me all but house arrested." I spit my frustration at Urioch while tossing my shirt aside. "I can't even use my powers in public unless I'm on program business or with you. The only chance I get to use them is when I can sneak out on my own." Well, that was true enough. I did love flying; the freedom of it was addictive.

"And the dark clothing, hair color and my communicator?"

"Dark clothes, aka, can sneak in and out without being seen. Dark hair, duh! The communicator..." I shrugged. The last thing he needed to know was that I was using it to call the incarceration units after I went all Back Alley Brawler on a few bad guys. "Last time I was caught out after dark I couldn't make an emergency call. At least with the squawk box I can get help if I need it."

He put out his hand, and I floated the communicator to him. He took it, frowning at me. "If you want to practice your flying, Jason, you should ask me." I was beginning to get a better read on Urioch's emotions. He wasn't pissed; he was disappointed. "Mrs. Patterson asked me to provide you with social outlets. Over the last few weeks you have resisted nearly all my attempts to provide them. If you are sincere in your desire to practice your flight, I will make certain to provide you with opportunities to do so."

I blinked. He wasn't going to lecture me about going out, breaking my curfew, and such? "No lecture?"

"No," Urioch turned and crossed the hall to his room.

I stood there, not sure what had just happened, trying to decide if I had gotten away with anything. I couldn't understand Urioch. He was just too damn weird.

The next night, after a long day of classes I couldn't focus on, Urioch all but dragged me out of the apartment and into the air. I didn't like the attitude. I didn't like being manhandled. What I really didn't like was that Urioch wasn't happy about it at all. The few times we'd flown together before this he'd enjoyed it. Some social outlet this was; it was more like flight boot camp.

After about an hour, I landed on one of the water towers in the Nebula districted, panting, while Urioch circled around and stopped to hover beside the tower. He hadn't even broken a sweat. "Shall we turn back?"

I frowned up at him. "You know, flying around like some damn long distance race isn't fun at all."

Crossing his arms, he looked at me. "Then you should be more communicative. I have found the pace quite comfortable."

Pushing myself back up, and glowered at him. "How the hell can I communicate with you when I'm yelling into the wind?"

"You have a valid point." Looking about, Urioch spotted a Cook's Electronics sign a few streets over. "Rest. I will be right back." He rocketed off, disappearing like a beam of light, and was gone in a matter of seconds. The bastard had been toying with me the whole hour. I finally caught my breath when the blue-white streak shot back toward me. Circling the tower as he slowed, Urioch tossed me a package. "This should solve the problem."

I opened the bag and found a two-way radio headset in it. He wasn't wearing one. "What channel?"

"I have it set on thirty-three. My communicator is on the same frequency."

Why was he being short with me? I'd felt his tension when I got home, and it had only built during the flight. I snapped. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Urioch swooped over, landing in front of me. "I am simply treating you with the same courtesy and respect you have shown me, Jason." What was I feeling from him, frustration, or maybe hurt feelings? "I have done everything in my power to make you comfortable in your transition to this life style. I treat you with respect, honoring your privacy and your possessions; courtesies you have not extended to me. I strive to include you in activities without success." His voice rose, not so much in volume, but in intensity; clipped words and precisely controlled pronunciation. I swore he was mad. "It is difficult to be your friend, Jason." He paused. It took him a moment to let out a low, long breath, and I felt his tension lessen. "I am saddened that you do not trust me."

Damn it. What about that made me think of a golden retriever who'd just been kicked? The worst part about it was he was right. I wasn't letting him be my friend. Why the fuck was I doing that? "I'm sorry."

"Three hundred and fifty-six, Jason." He sounded tired.

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I stay hopeful that one day you will respond with something like: I will not do that any longer; or, I will try harder; or simply, I understand. For all your new found abilities, you have shown no interest in understanding anyone, the least of all yourself. Apologies have no power when there is no intention to amend or change."

I sat down, defeated. "What's the point? The harder I try, the more difficult shit becomes. At some point I'm going to really fuck up, like Battlement, and I'll be behind bars."

"I do not believe that will happen." Urioch sat down beside me. "You are fixated upon the negative, Jason. Though your trainers have many times praised you for your progress, you remember only the criticisms. Mrs. Patterson has provide you with income, training and further education, but you only see her placing limitations and impositions upon your freedom and choices. Do you truly hate your life since you woke in the hospital?"

Do I hate my life? Do I hate being off the street? Do I hate not being scared all the time? Hell no! I thought about that while the sun sank closer to the horizon. The days were getting shorter. I shrugged. "No."

"Then why do you fight against them?"

For a brief second, I had the answer. I choked, pushing it away and snarled, "Just leave it alone, Urioch!" Twisting around, I locked my gaze with his. I hadn't done that since the hospital. He still had the most amazing eyes. I just stared, trying to understand what I saw in them. The longer I looked, the deeper I seemed to be drawn into them. Finally, I had to ask, "Why do you care?"

He brought his hand up and cupped it behind my neck, holding our gaze. "When we found you, dying in that warehouse, I did not believe you would survive. Most people die from the hybrid versions of Superadyne. Yet, as I flew you to Crown Medical, your eyes were filled with the most desperate need to live." He paused, studying my eyes while I tried not to tremble. He could do that to me. He could make me feel completely exposed and safe all at the same time. It was terrifying. "I am honoring my promise to the young man whose eyes held so much potential that I had to see it fulfilled."

Fuck. I couldn't even find my voice for a few moments. "I'm trying." It wasn't much, but I meant it.

"I know." He didn't let go, but I looked away. I couldn't take the intensity of his eyes any longer. After a few moments, Urioch released my neck and his hand slid down my back. "Jason, you are shivering."

I hadn't even noticed. The air was cool and my costume was soaked with sweat; spandex wasn't the best material for thermal protection. "Getting chilled I guess." I looked out at the skyline. The sun was over half way down and the sky was shifting from gold into crimsons and reds. "It's a beautiful sunset."

Killer used to climb up on the water towers, or sit on the roof tops in King's Row before sunset and sunrise. I watched them with him many times, wondering what he saw in them.

"Real power ain't the day or night, good or bad," Killer explained, the last time I watched one with him. "It's all about change, and who's in charge of it." He put his hand on my should and grinned his wolf grin - hungry, knowing, a bit sinister. "We're go'n to be the ones in charge, Jase." He nodded at the sky. "You and me, like sunrise and sunset; if anything's go'n to happen, we'll be the ones decide'n it."

We never tested that theory. My promotion got me off the streets, and put him behind bars. That was another condition of my parole; no contact with prior gang members. I hadn't seen Killer, hadn't been to Brick, nothing. It was like that part of my life didn't exist; like somebody thought if I didn't acknowledge it then it wasn't real. Killer was real. He'd been the one making the changes; the problem with change was that it's hard to predict. You didn't always get the outcome you wanted.

Urioch shifted, snapping me out of my memories. He settled behind me, so similar to how Demonicalle had in the park. A few months ago I would have freaked if anyone had gotten so close. He radiated a weak energy field, warming the air around us. I sat there, not sure what to do. I was just so tired keeping my guard up while waiting for life to kick me in the balls. With a slow, deep breath I leaned back and let him drape his arms loosely about me as I warmed up. He stared over my shoulder at the sunset. "Yes, it is beautiful."

I nodded absently, feeling the tension seep away as I sank into the safety of him. "Thanks," I sighed, closing my eyes, and just let things be.

"You are welcome."

We sat like that until long after the sunset. I trusted Urioch. I trusted him since the moment I looked into those damn alien eyes of his. I didn't trust me, and that was something I didn't know how to get passed. I dozed off feeling warm, safe, and not wanting to fight against life anymore.

We went flying every night that week. The first few times were simple touring flights, getting a lay of the land. Once we were comfortable with our routine, Urioch got creative. He caught me off guard our fourth night out by slapping my leg and calling out, "Tag," before he sped into the sky. It took me a moment to realize what was going on, and I took off after him. There was no contest; he could fly much faster than I could. The one advantage I had was that I could start and stop on a dime; he couldn't. I finally tagged him by cheating. I caught him in a psychokinetic hold, smacked his boot, and then dove for cover before he broke out of my hold. That only upped the ante, and before long I was laughing myself silly, trying to keep out of Urioch's grasp. In the end, he tackled me mid air, sending us both to the ground. He spun about, still holding me, right before impact and absorbed it himself, sending sod and dirt in a spray as we hit.

"Ouch," I chuckled. It took me a moment to realize he was still holding me, not in a tackle hold, but in a protective one. He must have shifted it when he realized we were going to hit the ground.

He loosened his grip, looking at me in concern. "Are you alright?"

I grinned, sitting up. "Yeah. I may have a bruise or two, but it wasn't any worse than being slammed down too hard in a wrestling match."

Urioch stood up, brushing off his armor before extending his hand to me. I took it. "You never mentioned you had been a wrestler."

"Junior Varsity and Varsity in high school." I shrugged. "I assumed you'd read my history file."

Urioch shook his head. "I have no access to your file, Jason. I know nothing about you that you have not provided to me." He shot me a wry smile. His humor was subtle, but I was beginning to catch onto it. "You have not even told me how old you are."

"Nineteen," I answered immediately, and then paused. I'd been so caught up in the changes in my life that I completely lost track of time. "I'll be twenty on Sunday."

Urioch cocked his head, thinking for a moment, and then laughed. He had a great laugh. "I should have Magdalene provide me a complete astrological chart on you. I do not put much stock in divination, but she has quite excellent insights into people and claims that the charts aid her in her perceptions." Mussing my hair, he took to the air. "It explains your worrying nature."

I flew up after him, not sure what he was talking about. "What?"

"You are a Virgo." He sped up, pushing to the limit of my flight ability.

I strained, trying to keep up, and was frustrated at his enigmatic answers. "Yeah, so?"

"If you are curious about the mystical influences on your life, Jason, research it." I could get nothing more out of him on the subject for the rest of the evening.

"What are we doing here in Prometheus Park?" I pulled off my shirt as Urioch did the same. It was probably the last gasp of summer; we had a sunny, hot day, and we wanted to enjoy it.

He held up the polymer Frisbee. "Flight and accuracy practice. Friends will be along shortly to add to the challenge."

"So am I trying to catch the thing or dodge it?"

Tossing the Frisbee down on our shirts, he pointed and zapped me with a small blue-white bolt. "You will be dodging."

Rubbing my pec, I frowned. "That stings!"

His slowly growing grin made me realize that I had just said the wrong thing. "Then I suggest you learn evasion quickly."

"Bastard," I yelled, taking to the sky as he hit me with another zap. I spun about in the air, trying to keep my bearings while avoiding his bolts. They never really hurt, but they did leave little stinging marks, like when you snapped a rubber band against your skin. After trying to shake him off in the trees, by diving around statues and doing everything I could think of, I finally had had enough. I spun on him, freezing him in the air. "Okay, okay, enough!"

He raised an eyebrow, his grin never diminishing. "I suppose it is time for us to take a break."

"Yeah," I grumbled, rubbing the little red welts all over my arms and torso, "I'll break something alright, if we do that again."

I looked down to where we'd left our stuff, and saw a half dozen people gathered about. All of them I knew. Blaize called up at me as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it with ours on the bench. "You're one pale eyesore, Deathman!"

I snorted, landing near him while flicking him the bird. "Well, we can't all be born brown and beautiful, Flaming Finger."

Blaize laughed, smacking my abs. "You're buffing up, bro."

I grinned. I'd been working out a lot of frustration over the last month. The university gym was one of my "allowed activities". I used it a lot. "Yeah, well, haven't got much else to do but study. That gets old fast."

"You have to learn how to enjoy life, Death's Head." I turned to face the owner of the new voice, and nearly toppled back. Brawler smiled down at us. "Life's too short to work all the time." Brawler eyed me like a caged rat. "Which reminds me: your life just shortened by another year."

I blinked. Oh fuck, it's Sunday. I shot Urioch an evil look. "You set this up!"

"Guilty," he replied without a hint of shame. "No one is too old for a birthday celebration; even someone as ancient as twenty."

Janet laughed as she got a good look at me. "You look like you've been attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes."

I growled, reaching for my shirt. "I was attacked by an Urioch swarm."

"Poor baby," Demonicalle teased as she ran her hands over me. I shivered. The warm tingling sensation calmed quickly, and I noticed the bruises were fading away. "Can't leave marks on all that tender flesh."

"Oh, shut up, Calle. I'm not your type." I swatted her away with my shirt, but didn't put it on.

"Hmm," she replied, putting hands on her hips while she looked me over. "You're coming along nicely, hot stuff. Another couple years and you'll be ripe for picking."

"Oh please. I'm young but I'm not cherry, Demonicalle. You're a few years too late for that."

"Damn," she teased, propping her hip against the picnic table.

"Blaize," Magdalene looked up at him as she put the last candle on the cake I hadn't noticed before, "Would you do the honors?"

Blaize grinned, waving his hand over the candles, causing them to flash alight.

I looked at the table, realizing there was a hell of a lot more I had missed. There were at least a dozen presents, plates, tubs of food, and several bottles of various drinks. How the hell had they managed it all without my seeing them? I stood, transfixed by the table, totally confused.

Lenny smiled. "I figured out a few new ways to use my darkness powers." With that, he faded almost out of view, as did most of the table and items on it. He wasn't really invisible, but if I hadn't been looking at him I might not have noticed him in a casual glance.

"Sneaky," I laughed as he faded back into view.

Magdalene walked around the table and gave me a hug. "Happy Birthday, Jason."

I smiled. "We still haven't done dinner."

Magdalene smiled back. "We have no more excuses. I just moved into an apartment in the same building as you and Urioch." Why the hell would she want to move out of Steel Canyon and into Galaxy City? She shrugged, probably having read my thoughts. "Kevin and I picked out the apartment together. Now that he is gone, I would rather have a smaller, more intimate space." She laughed, though I could sense a touch of sadness in it. "Kevin always wanted bigger. The apartment was simply an extension of the obsession."

"I suppose I should blow out those candles." I nodded at the slowly melting sticks of wax.

"Not before I get there, punk!" Amanda called out as she wheeled off the sidewalk, followed by a tall guy I immediately recognized as her brother Patrick from the photos in her office. He had a little girl in his arms and his wife was corralling their son as they got to the table. "Do you think you're going to get a year older without me? I don't think so."

I'd never had so many people show up for my birthday before. Even as a kid it was usually my parents, grand parents when they were alive, and a couple friends. This was a bit overwhelming. "Damn," I mumbled after pulling out of Amanda's hug.

"Oh, I have something for you." Amanda pulled out a card and handed it to me. "Don't burn it."

I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. The cover was a beautiful photo of a sunrise over the ocean. I opened it, and the inside read, "May your new year be brighter than the one before. Happy Birthday. Edna Patterson." I blinked. The old witch was sending me birthday cards?

"Yes, Jason. Even the Wicked Witch of the West is sending you birthday well wishes." Amanda laughed. "You're just going to have to accept that you've got a group of people all trying to help you onto your feet and see you happy."

I looked about at the motley crew of friends and acquaintances who had assembled in my honor. I felt like I was seven years old, not twenty, and I'd been given my first bike. "Thanks, guys."

Demonicalle rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Enough mushy stuff. Candles! Cake! Lunch! Frisbee! Hurry up!"

Laughing, I waved my hand at the candles, snuffing them out in one thrust of will. It was a new year. I saw no reason to do things the old fashioned way.

Awakenings - Chapter 04

2007-05-02T14:40:23Z

The broken brick wall was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, but it was solid and gave me a good view of the training area. Exhausted wasn't a strong enough word to describe how I felt. Urioch had expressed his concern about my overtaxing myself since the construction site disaster. He'd expressed his concern every night, without fail. He meant well, but living with a know-it-all, who usually did know it all, was annoying. I was a big boy. I could take care of myself. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I tried to catch my breath, and eyed Blaize as he leaned against the wall near to me.

"How the headaches?" Blaize asked, grinning at me, knowing full well I wouldn't tell him the truth.

"Not bad," I mumbled, wishing I had taken two Aleve at breakfast instead of one.

"Yeah, and my grandma's a gringo." He took a swig of his water and held it out to me. "You're going to pass out, Deathman. Get some fluid in you before they have to your ass in bed again."

Muttering something vulgar about his parentage, I took the bottle and swigged. I'd forgotten my water. Hell, I'd forgotten my lunch and my training pass. I wanted to avoid another breakfast of lectures, so I bolted from the apartment before getting my shit together. I took a second swig as I watched Onyx, Tar Patch and Impulse try to take down the training drones. We were better at teamwork. We weren't great, but we tried. We tried really hard. Handing back the bottle, I frowned. "Heard any word about Battlement?"

Blaize grunted, looking at me like I had two heads. "You don't know, man?"

Stretching, I tried to keep my back from cramping as I cooled down. It wasn't working. "Know what?"

"His ass is planted behind bars." He tipped the bottle back and finished the water in a series of gulps. Tossing the thing aside, he pointed and vaporized the plastic before it could hit the ground. "Good riddance. I hope mutant-bubba rips him a new one."

"Why's he back in prison; more illegal mods?" I was certain if a PPP trainee had broken parole, it'd have been all over the news.

Blaize spit. "Hell no. The prick just stood there man. All them dudes were falling and dying and he just stood there." I didn't have to look at him to feel his sense of violation. "You was burn'n out your brain. Janet was runn'n her skinny ass off. Lenny was toss'n about so much black shit that the place looked like a sticky midnight. Sharonda was ruin'n her stone-cold attitude try'n to keep the place from falling down around our ears. What was bad-ass Battlement do'n? He was finish'n his smoke, watching the show." Blaize's eyes leaked fire as his temper rose. "Demonicalle was all over his ass afterwards, but he just stood there and said 'I was on break'."

"No fucking way!"

Blaize pushed off the wall, snarling. "Way. Big way, man. My only wish was that I'd been there when the jack tried to walk. Said he had better things to do than to baby sit us losers." I'd never seen Blaize so worked up. I knew he and Battlement didn't get along, their egos had a hard time squeezing into the same room, but he was taking it way too personally. "Brawler pounded his arrogant butt so deep into the ground you'd have thought he was drilling for oil. Then he dragged Battlement's broken ass off to jail."

I grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. "Well, at least now we know that Brawler will kick our asses if we don't toe it."

Blaize snorted, but I could see a small grin he was trying to hide as a bit of his anger fizzled. "Yeah. I hope he keeps his other promises too."

His bad ass mulatto, street kid attitude had been dissolving along with some of my own attitudes since our first day of field-training. It was one thing to be told, theoretically, that you made a difference. It was quite another thing to be on the front lines, and see the results. We all wanted to feel like we'd made a difference. Twenty-five people had survived because of us. That didn't make the fact that people died any easier to live with. Sliding down from the wall, I raised an eyebrow at Blaize. "So, what are you going to do when you get out of the program?" I asked. "Janet's going to be a big time designer. Sharonda wants to join Hero Corps; they hire out as paranormal bodyguards to CEOs and politicians, so she'd be doing what she was doing before - just for the good guys. Lenny just wants to own his own restaurant."

He grinned. "You ever watch Hero Rides or Chopper Beyond?"

"Not much. I love the hotrods, but I hate the attitudes." Even on TV, watching people yelling and getting in each other's face made me ill. I never used to be that way. Empathy was turning me into a weepy, bleeding hearted wimp. How was I supposed to stop the bad guys if I couldn't face anger and conflict?

"That's what I want to do, man. Not on TV, but I want to chop cars and bikes, especially if my security clearance could get me into working with the hero tech stuff. Could you imagine being the guy to custom Brawler's bike?"

"That's cool." I looked at him as I felt his mood lift. "You really love it, huh?"

"Yeah," he grinned, "my big brother was a mechanic before the invasion. I would sit in the garage for hours, handing him tools and stuff, while he rebuilt old junkers into classics."

I frowned. "The Rikti, huh?"

Blaize nodded. "Yeah. He'd just made it big, hired by a big-ass shop that specialized in foreign cars and classics over in Baumton. Now the place is the Big Boom. They ain't even been able to clean the place up."

I blinked. "You've been to Boomtown?"

Frowning, he shrugged. "Yeah. Outcasts get in through the sewers. They duke it out with the Trolls and the Lost, the clocks are everywhere scavenging parts, and we have to dodge the Vahz. In the end, it's the same shit, different zone; it's all about territory."

"I always thought Boom couldn't have been as bad as the photos."

"Bad, man. It's real bad. The place still has hot zones, years later, where the ground is hot enough to slag your shoes. The only place I hear is worse is the Crash Site."

That was depressing; the last thing I wanted to think about were all the disaster zones that were still around the city. They'd cordoned them off so well, putting up the barrier walls to slit the city into defensible zones, that at times you forgot that just on the other side of a barrier wall could be a whole other world. "So, how do you plan to get in with a chopper?"

"Brawler said he knows a guy who has his own specialty garage, with security clearance to do work for Capes. He didn't tell me where or who, but that the guy was willing to take a Program Graduate as an apprentice. If the Big B is for real, I'll have a job and shit as soon as I can get my security clearance." He grinned at me. Blaize wasn't a bad looking guy, but his nose was hooked from being broken a few times and he had more than a couple gold teeth. I was sure, on the street, he could find plenty of ass if he wanted it. "So, Deathman, what are you going to be when you grow up?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm in college. My parents always wanted me to go to college. I haven't found anything that makes sense yet, so I'm just taking the basic liberal arts shit. I don't have any life long interests like you, Janet or Lenny. I'll probably end up either in Pffft, or Hero Craps."

Blaize and I looked up as a shadow passed over us. Sunlight glinted off blue metal and I stifled a groan. Urioch landed near us, my water bottle and training pass in one hand, a paper bag in his other hand. "You left your pass, Jason. I made you lunch."

"Thanks." I snagged the bag, bottle and badge with my thoughts and set them on the wall behind me. Clipping on the badge, I looked back at Urioch. "I'd have survived, Urioch."

"I have a task force mission, which may take a few days, and I wanted to be sure you knew before I left." He checked his call box before looking back at me. "It was no trouble to bring your food and water with me."

Okay, I was a prick. "How long will you be gone?"

"A couple days, three at most."

Three days? What kind of mission took three days? "Where?"

"Boomtown." His call box signaled again, and he pressed the acknowledgement key. "On my way." He looked back at me. "I will see you in a few days."

For a moment, it looked like he was worried I wouldn't be there when he got back. It was a stupid thought, so I pushed it aside. "Sure, get out of here." As he launched skyward, I yelled after him. "And don't get your metal clad ass kicked!" I didn't know if he heard me, but I felt like I had just sent a friend off to war.

Blaize watched Urioch's light trail fade over the buildings as I tried to figure out why I felt another knot in my stomach. "So that's the alien guy, huh?"

"Yeah, that's Urioch."

"Cool that he brought you lunch before head'n out."

I didn't look at Blaize. I couldn't quite tell if he was razzing me or was just generally amused. "That's the pointy-eared freak for you. Where ever he's from, they must have all been Boy Scouts. He can't go a day without doing his good deed."

Demonicalle waved at us from the far side of the training zone. Blaize slapped my shoulder and started down the rubble. "Come on, Deathman. Horned Mamma wants a family meeting." I hadn't even made it to broken street when Blaize grinned at me and nodded up at the wall. "Lunch and water, bro."

"Don't you start," I snarled, looking back and summoning the bottle and bag from above. I gripped the sack, not sure if I was frustrated, pissed, or something else. "I've already got a nag, Blaize."

He chuckled, and I could feel he was only getting started. "Not for the next few days, Deathman. Someone has to make sure you have your porridge while Papa Bear is in the forest."

"Asshole." The rest of the day was hell.

I thought I'd have enjoyed a few days without the alien Boy Scout. The first night I didn't notice; I'd been too tired to pay attention to his absence. The second night was nice, quiet, and I could bum around the apartment without feeling like I had to be productive. The third night, no Urioch, and I didn't sleep well. I kept waking up when I thought I heard a door close, a flush, or any other sound that might have been Urioch's return. I didn't even touched the chess set. It sat on the table exactly as we'd left it the night before he went on Task Force. I couldn't do anything with it, it was his move. Saturday morning, the fourth day, I was going nuts.

Another day alone in the apartment without a big, intrusive, curious pest to ignore. I hadn't thought I'd miss the annoyance. I wandered around the apartment, paced really, wondering where the fuck Urioch was. I snapped out of it whenI realized I hadn't moved from my spot near the balcony for nearly an hour. It was nuts. I wasn't going to go crazy worrying about some steroid-pumped elfin reject from Miss Manners' School of Alien Etiquette. I left the apartment, determined to do anything but think about Urioch. I ended up at the Cauldron, ordering up a coffee, but wanting a beer. I didn't even like beer.

"Where's your better half?" Jonathan asked with a smile as he set down my latte and sandwich.

"Out there doing it better, obviously." Twirling my finger in the air, I studied my unwanted BLT. "Like it matters." The problem was, it did matter; Urioch wasn't there. All I knew was he was beyond the security gates to Boomtown, and I didn't even have the clearance to go look for him.

"Might as well talk about it, Jason. You want to." Jonathan leaned on the counter and regarded me patiently.

"You're not my shrink." I poked at the sandwich with my coffee spoon.

"Your shrink isn't here."

I sighed. I liked Jonathan. He was a little creepy, but he was cool. "Urioch has been out on task force since Wednesday."

"Which one?"

I blinked. I had no idea there were multiple task forces happening. "Uhm, in Boomtown."

He shook his head. "Not sure which one that is. I was asked to function as back up for the strike against a Circle base. I know there is one against the Tsoo, and a large Lost operation. He could be on any of those."

One of the patrons, sitting against the far wall reading a book, looked up. His skin seemed to absorb light, but his eyes glowed with a pale blue-white energy. It was weird to watch as he set down his book, stood up, and walked to the counter with his cup. He moved in a soft mist that trailed behind him. He leaned against the counter near me, and I felt a chill. The counter top frosted where he was leaning. "A task force was evacuated from Boom last night. One of them didn't make it, and the others are in the crit-wards at Canyon Medical."

"I've got to go." Pushing away from counter, I tossed a few bills down and I ran for the door. Steel Canyon Medical was just across the park. I ran the entire way. Ignoring the police bots at the entrance, I threw my wallet, keys and change into the scanner bin, and fidgeted waiting for some old broad to hobble her way through the security check point. All I wanted to do was float her ass off the floor and push her through. Once passed the check point, I took a few deep breaths before I got to admissions.

"May I help you?" The woman at the desk didn't even look up. She continued to type away at what ever she was doing.

"Do you have a patient, Urioch?" I spelled the name out. "He would have come in last night."

She took an agonizing amount of time to key in the query, frowned, tried another, and then looked at a hand written list on a clipboard. "No, no Urioch."

"You sure? He's about six and a half feet tall, unusual eyes, pointed ears, off color skin?"

She looked at me with a disinterested, level stare. "According to the field list and the medicom scan, there is no one named Urioch at this hospital. I took the time to check the medical database for the rest of the hospitals, and he wasn't listed."

"Thanks," I mumbled, realizing I probably panicked for no reason. Just because a task force was evacuated from Boom didn't mean it was his. I left the hospital and wandered the south side of Steel Canyon, hoping some idiot Outcast or Fifth Column member would jump me. I wanted to hit something. Unfortunately, no one was feeling lucky.

Staring out the window as the tram pulled into the Galaxy station, I wondered why I'd panicked. It wasn't like Urioch was a relative. I'd only known him for ten weeks. I didn't love the guy or anything. I flew up to the balcony and unlocked the sliding door. I'd mastered the whole "float and flit", as Demonicalle called it, and was getting used to skipping stairs.

I felt Urioch, inside, and he didn't feel right. I pushed open the door, my stomach churning. What the hell was wrong? I wasn't prepared to see a bandaged, battered and bruised Urioch, lying on the couch with an ice pack against the side of his face.

His uncovered eye flicked in my direction as I closed the glass door. "Hello, Jason."

I'd never heard his voice when it didn't have a vibrant undertone. It was flat, almost monotone, and that worried me more than the bandages. Gesturing at the books on the coffee table, I floated them off as I sat down, studying the marks, cuts, tears, stitches, bruises, and burns that marred his head, face, neck, arms, torso, and legs. It took me a moment to realize he wasn't wearing anything. I blinked. He looked all human, mortal, and painfully real, save for the eyes, ears and lack of nipples. I looked back at his face, not sure if I was pissed that he was hurt, or happy he was alive. "You okay?"

"I will live." I hated the lack of vitality in his eyes and voice.

"That wasn't an answer." He used that response on me any time I tried to avoid a question. Turn about was fair play. "Are you okay?"

His eyes blurred a little, filling with tears, but he didn't break his gaze. He didn't try to hide the pain. "No, but I will survive."

I watched as a tear slipped down his cheek. That hurt so fucking much. I'd never seen or felt Urioch in pain. I swallowed, trying not to get emotional for the second time today. "What happened?"

"The task force was overrun. The team separated to expedite the extermination of the Vahzalok infestation of the facility. We under estimated the Vahzalok." He shifted the ice pack and looked up at the ceiling. "They had a new breed of monstrosities we dubbed Abominations. They were inhumanly strong, resistant to most forms of damage, and were nearly impossible to destroy." He sighed, blinking away the tears. "The task force was woefully under powered. Valkyra and I were the most powerful blasters on the task force, and we were barely able to hold the tide. In the end, we had to call for evacuation. Lady Magdalene, Jericho, and Earth King are all in critical condition. SM Syndrome is dead."

I flinched. SM had been Urioch's previous roommate. I never met the guy. I only talked with him on the phone once or twice when he called for Urioch. Urioch was over at SM and Magdalene's place at least once a week, usually two or three times. They invited me to come with Urioch, more than once, but I didn't want to be a tag-along. I looked at Urioch as he stared at the ceiling. Now I knew what alien grief felt like. It made my stomach feel like it was slowly draining of fluid and was going to shrivel up into a prune. I stood up, looking at the nearly human hero on the couch, wondering what I'd have felt if he'd been the one who hadn't come home. "I haven't eaten anything. Would you like some soup?" We had a few cans of chicken noodle in the pantry.

"Thank you, Jason. That would be nice." His eye flicked to the table where I'd left the chess set. "I see you left the game out."

I nodded, realizing that I'd left it more as a sign of hope than anything else. "Didn't know if you'd want to finish the game when you got back."

"Maybe tomorrow," he sighed, closing his eyes. I left him to his thoughts and rummaged around trying to find the can opener and such. Maybe it was time I started doing some of the cooking and cleaning. I could cook, sort of.

The hospitalized members of the task force were laid up for nearly a week. Even with advanced regenerative technology, it took time to repair and recover from serious injuries. Urioch spent every day at the hospital, seeing to the comfort and recovery of his teammates. I had school, training, and community service to do. He was never at the apartment when I got home, and returned late each night. I made sure there was something for him to eat. As tired and concerned as he was, he always thanked me for the food and asked about my day before retiring. We had a continual game of chess sitting out; we put a drink coaster on the side of the board to indicate who's turn it was when there wasn't time to sit and play. In a way, it was the only thing I could think of to show that I cared. I wished I could do more. I felt so fucking helpless.

Urioch came in Thursday night with a couple bags of groceries in his arms. I stopped the video I was watching, and waved. The bags lifted from him as he struggled to pull the key out of the lock while keeping three bags balanced. Looking at me, he nodded and finished retrieving his key. "Thank you."

Wandering to the island, I looked at the groceries. "You didn't have to go shopping. You have enough on your plate."

"I have been remiss this last week, Jason." He pulled open the fridge to unpack the bag, and stopped. The fridge was stocked. He looked at me and I shrugged.

"I know how to shop, Urioch. The only reason I don't is because you've done it since I moved in."

He looked at his groceries, perplexed as to what to do with the duplicate perishables. "I should have checked the pantry before shopping."

I grinned. "I guess I'll be eating a lot of cereal this week to use up the milk." I left him to figure out what to do with all the stuff. It was a small apartment, and we didn't have a lot of storage. "Your dinner is on the stove. I hope you like Mongolian Beef. I didn't feel like cooking."

I flopped back on the couch and restarted the DVD. I could hear Urioch shifting items around to make space, and after a few minutes he wandered into the living room holding the carton of take-out Chinese. He paused behind the couch. "Have we not already watched this?"

"Yeah," I groaned, "Forbidden Planet, again."

"You did not enjoy it the first time. Why repeat it?" He forked in a mouth full of food as I paused the video.

"Remember the assignment I had in Sociology? The one where I had to pick a social commentary on the video and write a report?" He nodded, chewing quietly. "Well, Professor Duggan was really cool about it and let me slide, but I still have to turn in the report before finals." I grinned up at him. "Unlike certain pointy-eared roommates, I don't remember everything I've ever seen and heard." Shrugging, I flipped the movie back on. "It's just a trashy old fifties movie. They were so clueless."

Urioch moved around the couch and settled down on the overstuffed arm. "Actually, Forbidden Planet was a contemporary retelling of Shakespeare's The Tempest. The underlying issues in the movie are a constant throughout human history. The struggle between intellect and desire, revenge and forgiveness, freedom and control, have been integral parts of human culture for thousands of years."

Rolling my eyes, I paused the video again and looked at Urioch. His face was still burned and cut, but he was out of the bandages. "You're telling me that this whole movie is some old piece of literature with a facelift?"

"Move your feet," he instructed as he slid off the arm of the couch. I tucked my feet up, but I wasn't giving up my space on the couch. With a smirk, I stretched my legs back out and plopped my feet on his lap.

Urioch looked at me for a moment, then picked up the remote and started the movie over from the beginning. "You should study more literature, Jason. Many of the questions people ask today were answered long ago, many times. If you do not take the time to learn what is known, you only repeat history, you do not build upon it."

"Yes, Dad," I mumbled, turning to watch the opening sequence again. I knew we wouldn't simply watch the flick. Urioch began a running commentary almost as soon as the hero's starship came into range of the planet. By the time the movie was over, it made a hell of a lot more sense. I yawned at my personal narrator and smiled. "Great, now I have to go back and read The Tempest."

Urioch smiled. "It will be good for you."

Pulling my feet off his lap, I sat up and gave him a yuk face. "Yeah, like a flu shot." I was looking forward to it, but there was no way I was telling him that.

"Thank you, Jason."

I blinked, studying his expression as I tried to figure out what he was thanking me for. "For what?"

"For the distraction and the company."

For a second I wanted to give him a hug. It was an impulse I squashed. Empathy was already turning me into a wimp. I damn well wasn't going to get gropey too. Still, it didn't feel right to just brush the comment aside. He really meant it. "We should do it more often."

"Agreed," he said as he stood up, stretching. He was still moving like a stiff old man.

"You should invite Demonicalle over to work out the aches," I joked, "she has incredible hands."

Urioch smiled. "That is a reasonable suggestion, Jason. However, I am not certain I am in any condition to reward her properly for her efforts."

Laughing, I headed for my room. "I'm sure she'd take a rain check."

"Good night, Jason."

"Night," I yawned, stopping by the table to make sure he hadn't snuck in a move. "You're move," I mumbled, and then sought out the comforts of my bed. It had been a long couple weeks.

I'd never been to a hero's funeral before. There were hundreds of people there. Family, friends, teammates, people he'd saved, and fans were all there. Urioch stood with Lady Magdalene through the whole thing. I could see why anyone would love her. She was tall, with flame red hair, pale skin, emerald eyes, and an aire about her that could only be described as royalty. She was a mystic of some kind, a healer and psychic. She stood, strong and dignified, letting her grief show but not wearing it as a badge. In many ways she reminded me of Urioch. She faced the condolers, mourners and sympathetic souls without any hint of weakness. I wished I had that kind of strength. It was quiet and understated, but undeniable.

"Will you be coming to the wake, Jason?" Urioch's voice jerked me out of wherever my thoughts had taken me. The funeral was over. How long had I been standing there, thinking?

I shook my head, trying to get the fuzz out from between my ears. "Uhm, no. I think I want to take a walk and I need to study for exams."

Lady Magdalene came over and took my hands, squeezing them lightly. "Thank you for coming, Jason. I'm sorry we didn't get to meet under more joyful circumstances."

"Yeah." What the hell could I say? "I'm really sorry about SM."

She smiled, it didn't reach her eyes but it was honest. "Don't regret loss, Jason. Try to celebrate the blessings we are given. My husband brought laughter and joy into my life. I shall not regret the briefness of our time together, for it would lessen the blessings he gave me." Kissing my cheek, she let go. "I hope to get to know you better."

"Thanks. You should come over and have dinner some time." I tried to lighten the mood, but I wasn't good at that shit. "I can burn water, but the tall guy can whip up something edible from time to time."

"I will," she smiled, and then looked at Urioch. "I suppose we should leave. Kevin would never forgive me if I were late for his wake."

"Your head may not forgive you tomorrow, if you drink as much as Kevin."

"You worry about your own tolerances to alcohol, Urioch. I will worry about mine."

I took the Tram back Galaxy and wandered for hours. How could people go and have a party about someone's death? I kept thinking back to what Magdalene said. I could feel her love for her husband, and her loss and pain, but she hadn't faked what she said. Would she really be able to just remember the good things and let the rest go? Letting go was never one of my strong points. I held grudges. I was resentful. I would never let an insult slide. Anger was so much easier than happiness, wasn't it?

I sipped my third cup of coffee as I stared out at the darkening streets. Light pooled, like islands in a sea of night, below the street lamps. The darkness seemed so pervasive, eternal, and patient. The light, from windows, lamps, and cars, all seemed so fleeting, fragile, tenuous. I tossed my cup into the trash and just lost myself in the darkness, pausing occasionally in one of those islands of light to look at my shadow. Even in a place of light, darkness clung to me. I was studying how distorted and insubstantial my shadow was, when I heard a familiar voice.

"Fancy duds, Jason."

I looked up, trying to see where the voice came from. I was in the light, the speaker wasn't. I stepped off the island, and was swallowed again by the darkness. "Thanks. Funeral clothes." It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I saw a couple skulls watching me from the alley. I squinted, trying to recognize who they were. It didn't help that they had their faces painted with the white skull symbol of the gang.

"Planning ahead?" I focused on the voice. Craig.

I frowned. "What are you doing on the street, Craig?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he grinned, but there was nothing pleasant about it. Something about Craig had changed. I could feel it. I was in the darkness, but Craig was a part of it. He stepped closer, and I could feel the darkness in him. He'd been promoted. He was a Bone Daddy. "You don't leave the Skulls, Jason. There is only one way out. We thought you took it, but you're still breath'n."

"Killer gave me my ticket out, Craig. I took it. I never promised 'until death do us part'." I scanned about, wondering where I could escape to. It was bad enough there were guys with guns. As a new Bone Daddy, I was sure Craig was planning on flexing some metaphysical muscle. He was low man on the totem pole. Galaxy wasn't the high end turf for the gangs. Still, guns and dark powers were something I didn't want to be on the receiving end of.

"Killer ain't here. You were his favorite, but that just proved he was get'n soft." He snorted, leaning in way too close for comfort. "You always were a pussy, Jason." He sniffed the air, and smiled. "You clean up good. Like the hair, nice color. I could enjoy a pretty pussy-boy like you."

"Not in this life or any other," I snarled. My thoughts lashed out, throwing Craig down the street. He hit the pavement with a satisfying crunch, but I didn't have time to enjoy it. His flunkies pulled out their guns as I dodged around the side of the building. There was no way I could outrun bullets. I didn't even have an emergency call badge. I was screwed.

Wooden pallets splintered as the first volley of bullets whizzed passed me. I turned the next corner while Craig yelled at his guys to keep me from getting away. I was "his pussy-boy". That was never going to happen. They had to kill me first; of course, Craig might have gotten off on that too. As I got around the corner, I slid to a stop and stared at the brick wall that was between me and freedom.

"Bad move, Death's Head," I mumbled to myself as the foot falls closed in. I looked around, trying to think of where to go and what to do. Up. No one ever looks up. I thrust myself off the ground and flew skyward. I wasn't fast, not like Urioch, but I could fly. I made it up to the third story, only two more to go, when they got around the corner.

"Where the fuck is he," the gunner swore as he looked around. I pressed myself into the corner and hoped they wouldn't see me. My coat and pants and socks were great, but my damn shoes were shiny, and my shirt was white. My hair was a lost cause. There was enough ambient light from the occasional window that they could spot me if they tried.

Craig made it around the corner and snarled, "You morons lost him?"

"He went around the corner, Jaw Breaker. He just ain't here."

Jaw Breaker? Oh God, and I was worried Death's Head was a stupid name. I tried to press further into the corner and thought invisible thoughts.

He glared at his minions. I was certain he was going to blast one of them out of frustration. After a few moments his shoulders relaxed. "Pussy-boy blew me down the walk, spunk for brains." Spinning, he threw his hand up at me and darkness lashed out, cutting into my flesh. I screamed. The cold that tore at me wasn't physical, and it sliced a lot deeper than any knife could. I launched upward as the darkness dissolved, trying to get over the edge of the roof. "He's a cape, you morons. Capes can fly!"

I covered my eyes as bullets sprayed against the brick walls. The last thing I needed was to be blinded by some broken piece of building material. I pulled myself over the edge and felt a sudden stab of heat in my arm. I rolled, biting back another scream, and flopped onto the roof. I gripped my bicep. Squeezing it hurt, but I couldn't be sure if the bullet had hit an artery. It also gave me something to focus on. Craig's attack had hurt everywhere; I hadn't been able to ignore it. A bullet wound, that was small, localized, and worked like an anchor. It kept me in the present.

I heard creaking and clanging from over the side of the building. They were clamoring up the fire escape. I wondered if anyone who lived in the building would bother to call the police. Most people took an "I see nothing" attitude to crime in Paragon. There was just so much of it. As long as it wasn't happening to them, it was easier to ignore it than get involved. I looked over the edge and watched the movement of shadows as Craig and crew bound their way up. I couldn't let them get up here. There wasn't any cover. I'd be toast.

"Jaw! I can't move!" The guy right behind Craig began thrashing wildly. He could move just fine, but had them all held as best I could. One guy was stuck by a hand to the railing, another was a leg, and the guy behind Craig had his feet stuck to the grates.

I wasn't sure what it was about Craig, probably his powers, but though he was slowed, he could still move. "Wimps," he barked as he forced his way through my efforts to hold them immobile.

I couldn't hold them forever. Craig was almost to the top of the escape when I realized there was an easier solution. I let them go, refocusing my attention on the fire escape, and pushed. The metal screeched as I tore it from the walls and dropped it down into the alley. The skulls yelled and pressed against the wall as the metal fell passed, smashing and banging its way to the ground. Only the upper structure, that connected the escape to the roof, had torn off. That had to be good enough. At least none of them could fly.

With hoarse yell, Craig came soaring over the side of the roof, darkness swirling about him. The bastard had used his powers to launch himself off the fourth level up to the roof. The others couldn't' do that, but that left me with Jaw Breaker to deal with. He landed, spun and let loose with some dark blasts. I rolled, winching at the pain from my right bicep, as the blasts blew passed me. "You're still mine, pussy-boy. I'm going to enjoy making you beg before it's over."

"You talk too much, Craig," I yelled back, coming up on my feet and lashing out with my good arm. I gripped at the air and clamped onto him with my psycho kinesis. "If you spent half as much time doing shit as you do talking about it, you'd have been promoted without having to wait 'til Killer was out of the way."

Jaw Breaker tried to orient on me and blast me, but he couldn't. When I wasn't trying to hold a bunch of guys over a large area, I could really put some force behind my powers. He glared at me as I walked toward him. "I'm going to rip you a new one, pussy-boy."

"How," I asked as I got right in front of him. "How are you going to do shit to me, Craig? You're a new Bone... inexperienced and trained only enough to be impressive, but not affective. I'm a cape in training. They put a lot more effort into us than the Daddies put into you." I grinned, "The name's Death's Head, Craig. Get used to hearing it, because I'm going to hunt every last one of the skulls down and drag their sorry asses in."

He glared at me, making his aura flare with a ravenous darkness that almost bridged the gap between us, but I stepped back out of reach. "I'll kill you. In the end, that's the difference between men and boys. You're a cape. Capes don't kill."

"Really?" I swung my arm to the left and he soared off the building and floated over the street. I made sure we weren't on the side his flunkies were on. "I don't remember that rule."

His power winked out as he realized he was five stories in the air and the only thing keeping him from falling was me. He was about to shit himself, I could feel it. Still, Jaw Breaker tried to save face. "You don't have the guts."

"Oh?" I replied, letting go. Craig screamed at me as he fell. I had the balls, but I couldn't do it in cold blood. In the heat of battle, to protect myself or someone else, I was sure I could do it. I couldn't just murder someone, even if the guy wasn't worth the air he breathed. Just before he got to the ground, I grabbed him again, slowed his fall, and let him hit just hard enough to knock the wind out of him. I looked over the edge, no longer scared. "That was a warning, Jaw Breaker. Next time we meet, I won't be so generous." I didn't listen to his threats and insults as I flew into the darkness. The only thing that kept the exhilaration from buzzing me was the painful throb in my arm.

Mrs. Patterson glared at me across the conference table. Why the hell did Demonicalle have to report that I'd come to training with a combat injury? She slid her glasses back up her nose and looked at the report. "You realize, Mr. Kilroy, that you are not allowed to use your abilities outside of training and sanctioned parole program activities."

"Yes, ma'am." At least I didn't say bitch. "I was mugged. My understanding is that I can use my powers in self defense."

She mumbled something under her breath and closed her folder. "Yes, Mr. Kilroy, you can. As no witness to the assault has been forthcoming, we have only your word as to the events that led up to your injury."

I snarled. "I gave permission for Amanda to scan me. She did. What was her report?"

"Telepathic scans are not admissible as evidence."

"I'm not on TRIAL." God I hated that bitch. Maybe she did follow through with what she said she would do, but she was still an anal-retentive Hun

"No, Mr. Kilroy, you are not. You need only to convince me and your trainers that you didn't break parole."

Huffing, I crossed my arms and sat back. "So how the hell do I do that? I can't exactly get more candid than having someone pick through my brain. I thought this was America... you know, Innocent until Proven Guilty."

"As you said, Mr. Kilroy, you are not on trial." Pulling off her glasses, she rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger. She thought she had a headache? My whole fucking life was one headache after another. Nailing me to the chair with her eyes, she pointed those spinster glasses of hers at me like a knife. "You will keep out of trouble. No walking the streets after dark. No late night excursions to the corner store. No naps in the park." How the hell did she know about that? "School. Training. Home. Period. I will have a talk with Urioch about taking responsibility for seeing that you have some forms of social outlet."

"I've got a parole officer now?" I think I was spitting.

"Think of him as a chaperone, Mr. Kilroy." Looking at her watch, she made a dismissive flick of her fingers at me. "I will see you in two weeks, same day and time."

I stormed out, feeling more like a criminal than I had before I'd been put in the damn parole program. Demonicalle was sitting on one of the stair walls, leaning against the lion statue, as I got out the door. I glared at her. "Thanks, Demonicalle. I really like being roasted alive for trying to protect myself." I stalked passed as she slid off the wall.

"I had to report the injury, Jason. Whenever you come into the training zone you're scanned. They would have found it in the bioscan checks and investigated." She caught up to me before I got to the corner. "I didn't know they'd call you in on it. I told them what you told me, period."

"And how the fuck did Patterson know about the 'nap in the park', huh?" That had hurt a hell of a lot more than the stupid injury report. What other personal shit did Patterson have on me?

She pulled me to a stop. "What are you talking about?"

"Patterson just put me under lock and key, Miss Thang. I quote: 'No walking the streets after dark. No late night excursions to the corner store. No naps in the park.' Why'd you have to report that?"

Demonicalle let go of my arm. If I wasn't an empath, I wouldn't have believed her next words. But I was, and she was telling the truth. "I didn't report that, Jason. Personal shit stays personal."

"Well someone fucking told." I wanted to trust Demonicalle. I wanted it so bad I could have screamed. I hadn't realized how important that trust was until it was stripped away.

"I didn't, Jason, I swear."

"Just give me some space, okay? Right now I just want to go off on someone." I looked at her, wanting so badly to feel the camaraderie I'd felt yesterday. "I believe you, Calle. I'm just hurting right now. I feel like no matter what I do, I'm always going to be a criminal to that old bitch. I don't know why I even try."

Demonicalle let me walk off, but she called to me before I crossed the street. "Don't do anything stupid, Jason."

Like I could promise that. All I ever did was make stupid decisions. I headed for the tram and back to Galaxy. The apartment wasn't even a home any longer. It was a prison, complete with a guard. It just didn't have any bars.

I'm PUBLISHED

2007-05-01T13:07:19Z

**Second Chances has been Published**

The revised and edited version of my short story, Second Chances is a part of Coming Together, Vol.3, available from Charleswater Press and FictionWise.

Please support small press and independent writers and buy a copy.

The two prior volumes of Coming Together are also worth reading, and are available from CharlesWater Press (Volume 1, Volume 2) and Fiction Wise ( Volume 1, Volume 2).

Awakenings - Chapter 03

2007-04-09T15:56:57Z

First day of college was a breeze compared to the first day of Paranormal Parole Training Neither were like my first day in the gang. In a lot of ways, induction into the Skulls had felt more like salvation than anything else. Killer hadn't tried to convince me that he was the boss, or that the smartest path was to follow him. I'd just known it. Just like I knew that if I fucked up in PPP, my life wouldn't be worth living. Simply because I knew it didn't mean my Parole Officer wouldn't remind me.

"Huge." That was all I could think as I stared at the behemoth standing at the front of the room. . I wasn't sure which was larger, the man standing nearly eight feet tall and possibly five or six feet wide at the shoulders, or his reputation on the streets. I'd never thought, in my wildest dreams or worst nightmares, I would be face to face with Back Alley Brawler. My fellow classmates, all five of them, were similarly awed, save for the big guy in the back.

"I don't make inspirational speeches. I won't handhold you losers. I won't give you any slack. You're here because you fucked up. I'm here to beat, cuss, kick and yell your worthless asses into shape." His eyes seemed to look at all of us at once. "Whether you get security clearance or not is up to me. If you ever rise in security level will also be up to me. Period, end of story. As of right now, you have a clearance of zero. Zip. Zilch. Bubkiss. Nada. This means you can't even arrest a jerk for J-walking. Don't even think about trying to go out and kick butt on the streets. If I ever clear you for that, you will be sidekicked with an experienced hero of security level ten or higher. You will work with your mentor, with no option for solo activity, until you have proven yourself capable. This means security level seven. At that point, you'll have the experience and authority to go out and kick ass on your own. I don't care how powerful you are, or what you did before you got into this program. You will toe the line, or I'll plant my toes so far up your ass you'll be chewing on them. That clear?"

I nodded, as did the twig of a girl to my right and the little shrimp of a guy to my left and back a couple desks. The rest of the group mumbled affirmative noises. I wasn't the only one who was intimidated, but I was surprised by the varied reactions to the intimidation. At least none of us pissed ourselves; though I think the little guy wanted to.

Brawler was one of a handful of the pre-war heroes who'd survived the Rikti invasion. He was an icon of Paragon City. More than a few of the most powerful Bone Daddies of the Skulls had faced him and had their asses served up to the courts for trial and prison. I wasn't about to make waves.

Brawler looked right at me, frowning like I'd just fucked up. I think my eyeballs were about to pop out when he stepped in front of me, crossed his arms, and growled, "You're the empath, right?"

"Uhm... yeah." What was I going to do, lie?

"Am I shitting you about this?" His gazed never left me as I squirmed.

"No... you'll kick our collective asses if we fuck up." Of that I was sure, all the way to my toes.

"What if you don't fuck up?"

I blinked up at him. "Huh?"

"What will I do if you don't fuck up?" He didn't give anything away. He was inscrutable. What was he asking me to say? What was the right answer?

"I don't know."

He snorted, his brows furrowing at me. "Come on kid. You're the only empath in the last three groups I've had. If you're worth a shit, you can answer the question."

My gut twisted in knots as I struggled to give him an answer. How the hell was I supposed to know what he'd do? I couldn't answer him. I dodged. "I'm a PK too."

Brawler bent down, putting his hands on the desk in front of me. The desk creaked under his weight as he lowered himself, arms bulging, until his eyes were level with mine. Now I was certain I was going to piss myself. "I don't give a shit if you can float my ass to the moon, kid. Empaths are rare. I can find a dozen guys who can throw people around using muscles, gravity fields, kinetics, or a million other methods. A hero who can get a feel of people around him, knows who's holding strong and who's cracking, knows whether the bad guy is really nuts enough to do something insane or whether he's just blowing smoke, is something we need." God his breath stank. It smelled like he'd eaten a dozen eggs and a pound of sausage, washed it all down with a gallon of milk, and it all was fermenting in his gut. Or maybe that was just me feeling sick. "Come on, kid. Read me."

I squinched my eyes shut and tried to figure out the sensations. It was hard to read him. Not because he was blocking, but because I was nervous as hell and trying not to throw up. It didn't help that I was getting feedback from the rest of my classmates. I thought about what Amanda taught me. I focused, breathed, followed the familiar feelings and blocked out the disruptive ones. After a while, all I could feel was Brawler's presence pressing me through the seat, and my own resistance to it. I opened my eyes, looked back into those harsh, determined, war hardened eyes that demanded an answer, and I opened up to what was there. Impatience, irritation, frustration and a dozen more feelings pressed against me. Behind them, below the immediate tension of the moment and the demand for control, there was something else. Honesty, sincerity, determination, and hope. The big badass actually believed that people could be something more, something great. He believed in us, even if he wasn't going to say it. "You'll back us up to the end if we prove we're worth it."

The fucker cracked a grin, stood up and walked back to the front of the room. "If you sorry SOBs actually make it, I'll be the first in line to cover your asses when the going gets rough. Take that for what it's worth. Your choice: have me kicking your ass, or have me covering it. Every one of your trainers in this program has 'graduated' from the system. They were all where you are now." He nodded to the back of the room.

We turned in our seats, and saw two heroes, neither of whom I recognized, at the back of the room. One was an oriental dude with so many tattoos you'd think he was a living cartoon section of the Sunday newspaper. He stood, rigid and unmoving, as we looked at him. I couldn't feel shit from him at all. The second was a woman who looked like a demon dressed for walking the red light district. Lounging in one of the chairs, feet propped up on the desk beside her and her ankles crossed, she showed enough smooth, well toned flesh to make any guy think twice about ignoring her fangs, rams horns and green skin. Unlike Mr. Inscrutable, Hell Hooker was easy to read. She wasn't just amused, she was barely on this side of laughing her ass off.

"Meet your trainers, Hon'dah and Demonicalle. They aren't push over, high ideals, flag saluting, milk and cookies heroes in patriotic spandex. They are street toughened, hard knocks schooled, down and dirty heroes. The quiet, stern looking one with the hat is Hon'dah, an ex-Tsoo." The guy inclined his head, but was immobile other than that. "If you can get his story out of him, you've done better than most. The hotter than hell, hooker with horns, is Demonicalle. She's ex-hellion and still a hell raiser. Her bite is much worse than her bark." Demonicalle licked her lips, letting her tongue flick against her fangs. "They will be seeing you from zeroes to heroes. Give them grief and you might as well get your stripes painted on because you'll be in the cell block before the teleport network can reset itself."

Demonicalle laughed. "Brawler, give it a rest." Flowing up from her seat, she strode slowly down the aisle. Her hips moved with a rhythm that could have churned butter. "You've already tried to get them to piss themselves. They didn't. Intro's over. Let Hon'dah and I take it from here." Hon'dah followed, his wide legged pants made it impossible to see his feet. He could have been walking in small, precise steps or he could have been levitating. Either way, he moved like water and was silent as a shadow.

Brawler chuckled. "They're yours. If they give you any trouble, you know where to find me."

Hon'dah nodded. "We know our task. You have duties elsewhere."

Brawler glowered at us one last time for good measure, and then left.

Demonicalle slid up onto the front desk, crossed her legs, and smiled at us. "Okay, 'at ease', troops. All brow beating aside, we're here to help you refine your powers, learn the rules, and get mentally and physically ready to fulfill your duties as part of the Freedom Corps or Paranormal Police Force." She grinned at me. "Known lovingly on the streets as Pfffft."

I wasn't the only one who laughed. We had more than a few names for the heroes. I'd actually forgotten about Pfffft. The tension in the room defused like someone had let air out of a balloon.

Demonicalle smiled. "Okay. Now that the badass has left the building, let's find out who everyone is. You can use your real name or not, but definitely give us your registered hero identity, classification, known powers, and what kind of fuck-up you were before getting dumped into the Paranormal Parole Program." Her eyes fell on me. Why was I the first one picked? My seat was cursed.

"I'm Jason. My registered identity is 'Death's Head'. I think they classified me as a science-controller, what ever the hell that means, and I'm a psycho kinetic - empath." I shifted. "I was hauled in while I was with the Skulls."

Demonicalle laughed. "We sound like an AA meeting." She nodded to the twig a desk over. "And you?"

"I'm Janet, and I go by the ID 'Impulse'. I'm classified as a mutation-scrapper." She made a made a cat-clawing motion that blurred into side to side movements. "I bitch slap with the best." She smiled as we a few of us chuckled. "I was caught stealing pharmaceuticals."

"Oooh, big time," the guy in the back snorted.

Demonicalle looked passed us to the heckler and raised an eyebrow. "And what fuck up put your bionic ass in that seat, Battlement?"

He grunted. "I didn't fuck up. The only way to get legal mods is Caping it, so I'm Caping it."

"The fact that you were incarcerated for trafficking in black market, experimental technologies has nothing to do with why you are here?" Hon'dah asked, his tone did not lend to a sense of doubt or even curiosity.

"I served my probation." He flexed a mechanically augmented arm, puffing up his chest until his tee shirt was in danger of ripping. "Can't go all 'normal' without giving up the mods; the mods are me, so I applied for this joke of a program."

The guy behind me held up his hand, and Demonicalle nodded at him. He actually stood up before talking.

"I have a question."

Demonicalle smirked. "We guessed that. What's your questions?"

"If you already know our records, why are we doing this introduction?"

"Because, sweetie, I may know everything about you from your shoe size to your cup size, but your program mates don’t." She looked at us again. "Unless someone has extra senses they didn't list in their applications."

"If only," the all-back-amazon behind me laughed. She wasn't just a negro, even if that had been her original race, she had pure, deep, glossy black skin that looked like living stone or black glass. "It'd be nice to make the boys self-conscious for a change."

"I ain't self-conscious about nothing you could measure," the dark skinned guy on the other side chided. "You can scan me as much as you like, Mz. Tall, Dark and Stacked."

She rolled her eyes. "Boy, you ain't packing nothing I couldn't crush."

"Care to put that to a test?" He grabbed at his belt and swiveled his hips off the seat while his other hand flickered with fire. "I can give you a real hot time."

Demonicalle held up her hand. "You can demonstrate your techniques later, Blaize. For now, why don't you give us the stats I asked for?"

"I just go by Blaize, only my mama gets to call me by my kid name." He flicked a few balls for fire between his fingers. "Like our skinny-chickie, I'm classified by Mutie, but I'm a blaster"

Demonicalle raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm an ex-Outcast. I was down with a little muscling and shit, but when bro's started getting cranked because my boys were feeling rowdy, that just ain't cool. When the capes came in, I just put my hands up and said 'uncle'." He shrugged. "I figured this was better than my mama see'n me behind bars."

Demonicalle looked at Miss Attitude next.

"Sharonda, but you can call me Onyx. The faerie dust and crystal freaks over in M.A.G.I. tell me I'm descended from some African Shaman line or something. They classify me as a magic-tanker. All I know is I went from a black beauty to a stone-hard diva when the Rikti hit. I been on the streets since, doin' odd muscle and such. When my meal ticket paycheck got Caped, I decided it was time to switch teams."

Demonicalle looked back at the little question asker. "That leaves you."

"Uhm…" The guy actual phased, becoming some kind of shadow. After a few moments he shifted back again. "Sorry… I'm still not good at controlling it."

Demonicalle smiled.

"I'm Lenny, all I could think of for an ID was Tar Patch because I can create this black, thick stuff that can slow people down." He frowned. "I guess I'm a mutant also, but they classified me as a defender, whatever that means." He swallowed. "I got picked up for freaking out the neighborhood; I sort of lost control of my powers."

I knew how that felt. I still had problems with items flying at a stray thought, but I was working on it. At least I wasn't the only fuckup, or the only one who felt way out of his league. I could live with that.

Summer in Paragon was humid, but a rainy summer afternoon on a week day was the pits. I grumbled to myself as I flipped through the channels for the third time. Two hundred and fifty stations and nothing was worth watching. Even the porn channels were lame; the women were all artificial tits and the men were hedge-hogs with donkey dicks. Who the fuck watched that shit?

Urioch looked up as he turned the last page of the trashy romance novel he was reading. "If there is nothing on the television you care to watch, Jason, why not read?"

I groaned. "I've already read a chapter ahead for my classes." I looked at the assorted books he had in his finished pile. "Harlequin just isn't my thing and I just don't think I'll get into 'Studies in Molecular Science'." I floated the book out of the stack and held it up. "Where do you find this shit?"

"There are several excellent used book stores near the university." He set down his now finished romance. "That is an obsolete text book, but the information is still useful."

I laughed. "For what? Knowing what materials you'll melt something down to when you blast it with your energy bolts?"

"The more we understand about our universe, the greater our ability becomes to interact consciously with it."

"Okay." Like I needed a Zen moment on an already sleepy afternoon. I floated the book back and flopped on the couch. "I'm just bored."

Urioch stood, stretched, and picked up our empty glasses on his way to the kitchen. "You seem to have lost interest in the internet."

"You can only look at so many bad porn pictures before they get old." Okay, maybe that wasn't true, but I wasn't going to be getting any ass any time soon, so why frustrate myself?

"Do you not know any games?" He came back into the living room, set a plate of veggies and cheese on the table and set my refilled glass near me before returning to his seat with a new book.

"Yeah," I snorted, "but strip poker and spin the bottle aren't good as solitary entertainment." I grabbed my ice tea and took a swig.

Urioch looked up. "I have never played either of those. I know what poker is, but I am unfamiliar with played spin the bottle."

I nearly spit my tea as I choked. Urioch looked at me, mildly concerned, as I recovered from trying to breathe my tea. "Well I'm not about to teach it to you."

"Oh." He opened a new book. The conversation seemed to be over.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't want to pay a game, Urioch." God. How was I going to explain this? "Those games are done in small groups, mixed gender, and usually lead to things like kissing and sex."

Urioch gave me an understanding look. "Ah, adolescent mating behavior."

I frowned. Okay, so they were only games you played in high school and college, but I was in college, damn it. "Yeah. Like I said, not something we'd play."

Closing his book, he looked at his book case. "Do you play chess?"

"Not very well," I confessed. My father had loved chess. My mother was a monopoly woman. One or the other game board was almost always out and in mid-game when my parents were alive. They also played Parcheesi, but I never understood that game.

"The best way to improve is to practice." He got up, pulled a chess set off the shelf, and set it on the dining room table. Not that we had a dining room, it was more just an extension of the kitchen with a small four person table in it.

I groaned. He was going to kick my ass.

Staring out the window and down on the lawn and sidewalks of the university campus, I watched a couple students toss about a Frisbee, a few studying out on the grass, and wished I was out there instead of in Sociology 101. My attention was yanked back to the front of the room as my name was called out a second time. "Mr. Kilroy?"

I blinked back into focus. "Yes?"

Professor Duggan cocked his head. I'd never expected to have a teacher with hair down to the center of his back, wearing a black muscle shirt, with tattoos all over his arms, chest and back. He was the living expression of: don't read a book by its cover. "Did you watch the assignment, Mr. Kilroy?"

"Yes, sir. Last night." Yeah, I had procrastinated. I'd had better things to do than watch a classic science fiction movie from before my parents' time. Urioch had loved it, but I couldn't get into it. The effects were unrealistic, the animation was crap, and the acting was so mid-twentieth century.

"Can you identify another social commentary from the Forbidden Planet?"

I wracked my brain, trying to come up with something that wasn't already listed up on the board. "That no matter how enlightened or controlled, no one is above dark thoughts and desires?"

Professor Duggan nodded. "The monster from the ID." He wrote my answer on the board, sat on the corner of his desk, and gestured for me to continue. "What does this say about the culture of the time, and how does it apply or not apply to culture today?"

"Uhm..." I hedged. Was there something substantial about the movie that I'd missed? I was rescued by the sudden intervention of the bell. I thanked God for the save, but apparently I only had a temporary reprieve.

"Class, please pick one of the commentaries we listed, or another you recognized in the film, and answer the question I just asked of Mr. Kilroy in a minimum of a two page, typed, single space, no larger than twelve point, with no larger than one inch margins, report to be turned in this Friday. I will have the assignment posted on the class website by this evening." He always made certain he covered all the possible cheats we could use to get out of the work.

I spent the afternoon trying to do anything but read my text books or do my assignments. I hit the campus gym, wandered one of Urioch's favorite used book stores, dropped off his previous week's fix and stuffed as many of his new collection into my bag as I could. The owner just kept a running tab; Urioch was a very good customer. It was sunny, temperate, and breezy outside as I got off the Tram in Galaxy and headed for the apartment. All I wanted to do was find a quiet spot, away from people, and just enjoy the day. I stopped in the park near the apartment. It was after lunch and the place was fairly empty. Dropping my backpack against a tree, I peeled off my shirt and lay down on the grass. I used to lay out behind the game fields back in high school and think for hours. I hadn't done that in over two years. Closing my eyes, I just let the sounds of the city blur into the background as I tried to relax. It'd been two months since I'd woken up in the hospital after the overdose. Two months of having other people's emotions tap dancing on mine. Two months of having my life dictated by others. Two months of Urioch making me think twice about anything I said or did. Two months of knots and tension that left me with almost constant headaches and a growing dependence on Aleve. I just tried to push it all away and pretend life had never gone to shit. I wished I was fifteen again. I wished I'd never figured things out. I wished I'd told my parents I'd loved them before it all came to an end. Most of all, I wished I could go back and pretend the world was a safe place and just be a kid. I didn't know how long I lay there after I dozed off, but I snapped awake to the feeling of someone near.

Demonicalle lounged on the bench to my left, watching me with an amused smile curling her lips. "You know, hot stuff, sleeping in the park is begging for someone to mug you or worse." Running her tongue across her teeth she lifted her brows suggestively. "With all that young, tight flesh on display. I'd vote for something worse."

Demonicalle had no shame. I sat up, reaching for my shirt, and came back with a handful of grass. I rolled over, looking at where I'd dropped my book bag. It was gone, and so was the shirt I'd draped over it. "Shit!"

"Missing something?" Laughing, Demonicalle held out my shirt, draped off one of her manicured black nails. "Amazing what you find when you take down scumbags in back alleys."

"Oh, jeeze." I reached for my shirt, but she pulled it back out of reach as she sat up. I frowned, "Not funny."

"What's the problem, DH?" Demonicalle looked me over like a piece of meat. "I think I like you better this way."

"Give me my shirt, Calle." I snatched for it again, but she slid down the bench, propping her ass on the far armrest.

"I think I should get a reward for lost and found." I noticed my book bag hanging over the far back of the bench.

I threw out my hand, palm open, and snagged the shirt with my will. It flew from her fingertips and I grabbed it from the air. "How do I know you didn't just take them yourself just to give me grief?"

"Would I do that," she asked as I pulled my shirt on. Something about Demonicalle always left me feeling exposed. I wasn't ashamed of my body. Hell, I'd been working out at the university gym since I'd gotten my schedule straightened out. She just made everything so sexual. It made me edgy.

"Yes," I snapped, feeling the throbbing return to the base of my skull. My neck felt like it was going to start seizing up.

"Okay, so I probably would." Hefting my book bag off the back of the bench, she tossed it at me. The thing must have held forty pounds of books and she tossed it with a couple fingers. The woman was a lot stronger than she looked. "But this time I did actually take down a would-be thief a few blocks from here. Your name is in your textbooks, so I thought I'd make sure the crime wasn't more serious than a snatch and run."

"Thanks," I mumbled, really wanting the pounding to go away.

She tilted her head, furrowing her brows as she looked at me. "You okay, Jason?" When Demonicalle dropped to using our real names, she was concerned.

"Just a headache." I shrugged. "Stress."

Sliding off the bench, she came over, stepped around me and settled down on the grass right behind my back. I shuddered. There was a throb, like an energetic heart beat, that warmed me from behind. "I won't bite, Jason. I've got a few talents that might help."

I bit back my immediate response of, "Will I have to pay extra?" Headache or not, she wasn't talking about sex.

Her hands came to my neck and the warmth increased to the feeling of a tingly, burning. It wasn't painful or unpleasant. It felt sort of like bengay or icy-hot. Her thumbs dug into the back of my neck, just above my shoulders, and I moaned. "You've got knots bigger than your balls back here. Why didn't you mention this in training?"

I shrugged. "We're training to be 'heroes'. Stress is just part of the package." I groaned as she hit another knot and worked at it. The heat from her fingers seemed to penetrate right into the tissue and in moments the knot let go. God, she was good. In a few minutes, my neck felt better than it had in weeks. I could actually feel my headache draining out as she worked.

"Better?" she asked, patting my shoulder.

"Yeah." I blinked a couple times, rolled my head about, and shrugged to feel what was left. She'd melted it all. "That was incredible."

"You'd love how it'd feel if we weren't in public," she purred, her fangs scraping my ear as she chuckled.

I rolled away, my gut twisting into the knots she'd just gotten rid of in my shoulders and neck. "Uh, no thanks."

Demonicalle laughed. "Chill, DH. I'd never do someone below my security level. Especially not one of my trainees." Standing up, she brushed off her boots. "You're cute, but you're definitely not my type."

"Thanks," I replied dryly as I picked up my bag, "nice to know I'm not meal material for a green skinned demoness."

"You'd better get home, DH. I bet Urioch is wondering where you are."

I snorted. "Like I care? He's my roommate, not my father."

Demonicalle licked her lips. "Oh, I'd definitely fake a daddy complex if he were my roomie."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't swing that way." Settling my bag over my shoulder, I wiggled my eyebrows. "Not to mention, he's too butch and hairy. I wouldn't be able to pretend he's a girl."

"Yeah, Urioch is anything but a girl." Demonicalle grinned. "I wouldn't turn him away for eating crackers in bed."

"Go find your entertainment elsewhere, Calle. I'll see you tomorrow." Pausing, I looked back at her. "We're on site tomorrow, right?"

"Yep, first day of in-the-field training."

Shaking my head, I started towards the apartment. "Yeah, right. Playing paranormal security guard for a construction site. Woo hoo."

"Nite, DH." She stretched her legs for a moment, and looked up at me from a low crouch. "Do me a favor, okay?"

"Sure, what?"

"Don't pull a stunt like that again. The guy could have just as easily cut your throat as taken your stuff."

I grinned. "Yes, Mom." I was still smiling as I got back home.

Security guard duty; it was probably the most boring task known to man. Why the hell would anyone want to "revitalize" King's Row? The place was a wreck. Okay, so it had survived the invasion and wasn't Boomtown, which I'd only seen on vids and was certain it couldn't have been that bad after two years, but Kings Row was all old brick buildings. The only new stuff was in the Industrial Avenue district. It would have been a social blessing if the Rikti had blown King's Row to ash instead of Baumton. I sat on one of the lower I-beams of the super structure, feet dangling, while I chewed on my tuna fish on wheat. At least we got a fifteen minute break every two hours. Twelve hours of watching construction workers crawl around like ants, some thirty stories above us, wasn't my idea of fun. It might have been cool if I could fly, then I could have watched the work being done, but the best I'd managed to do was levitation. It was called, hovering; I could move about, but I moved so slow that it wasn't worth the effort. The only nice thing about it was that I could keep from falling to my death if I were ever pushed into an empty elevator shaft.

Impulse blurred up beside me. I liked Janet. Her ability to absorb electromagnetic energy was cool. The fact she could supercharge her nervous system with the excess power and move faster than the eye could see was even more amazing. Her only problem was the danger of being overloaded. Any form of electrical attack threw her nervous system into cross-circuited chaos. Her ability to run up vertical structures at super speed made her perfect for doing perimeter sweeps of the construction site. "Hey, Head."

"Hey, Miss Manic." I wasn't all that fond of the reduction of my hero name to "head". It made me think of either a toilet or of a blowjob. Neither was something I wanted to be known for, but Janet used it as a term of endearment. I was pretty certain the less flattering connotations of the name hadn't crossed her mind.

"Ewww, fish!" Janet frowned as I finished my sandwich. "How can you eat that?

"Urioch is a great cook." I smiled. "At least that's what I tell him. It keeps me from having to do kitchen duty."

"The way you eat, I'd say the guy is probably a good cook and you don't want to give him credit for it." She grinned, pulling some beef jerky out of the paper bag she'd been opening. "It wouldn't work with your Mr. Badass image." Laughing, she added, "Nice ass, by the way. The costume works for you. It hides your face, and puts your best feature on display."

"Wow, thanks." I rolled my eyes. Okay, so I wasn't going to admit it, but I did look pretty good in the tights. I wanted to build up my shoulders, back and chest more, but I had good legs, and yes, a great ass. My time on the street hadn't hurt those features any. I hadn't had access to a gym for a while, so upper body was a bit imbalanced. I hit the gym daily, so I was making up for lost time. I really didn't want people watching my ass when I was kicking theirs. Impressive, daunting, intimidating, those were the impressions I wanted to make. Not, "damn, the guy who kicked my butt had a fine ass."

"What, no reciprocal compliment?" Janet frowned at me as she chewed on a bite of beef. "I spent a long time coming up with this outfit."

I grinned, looking out at the construction yard. "Your metabolism is so fast that you look like a long distance runner on crack."

"Thanks for building my confidence there, Head. You're just what a girl needs."

I looked at her, scrutinizing the outfit. "Actually, the outfit is cool. I swear you're smaller than you were when the program started."

Janet nodded, looking out at the skyline. "Yeah, I just can't seem to eat enough protein. The more I use my powers, the more I burn through my fat and muscle stores. The docs are thinking of trying a steroid treatment plan to compensate."

"Ugh, that sucks." I hated having the neural stabilizers pumped into me, but without them I'd have twitched out months ago. "It's better than burning out."

"Yeah." She chewed through another piece of beef before changing the subject. "How're your classes going?"

"Suck."

Her quirky smile told me that she wasn't buying it.

I shrugged. "Okay, only suck because I have no time for anything but training, class and homework. The subjects are pretty cool."

"Fashion school doesn't start until September."

I laughed. "And you're worried about what your costume looks like?"

Janet frowned. "Just because I know I can design good stuff doesn't mean I look good in it."

I wasn't touching that one. "So, what are you going to do when you get out of school in a couple years?"

She smiled. "I want to work at Icon."

I laughed. "Fashion designer for the spandex generation!"

"Hey, it's good money and a niche industry." Janet pulled out a tub of peanut butter and some celery sticks and began spooning in the stuff. If I ate as many calories of fat and protein as she did, I'd have been two thousand pounds and on the top of the list for heart attack.

I looked down to see Tar Patch closing up his cooler and stowing it in the security lockers. I sighed, "It's about time for us to get back to work."

Janet groaned, and I watched her hand blur in the space between the jar and her mouth. In seconds, the peanut butter was gone and the celery bag was empty. "Okay, done."

Standing up, I tossed my lunch sack at the dumpster from twenty feet up. The sack circled the dumpster, flew straight up, paused, and then dove in like a homing missile. I hadn't expected the explosion that rocked the girder we were standing on. Impulse and I stared at each other.

"How the hell did you do that?"

I shrugged as we heard the creaking of metal and yells of alarm from above. "I didn't." Above the construction site, arcing like a huge, metal bat or some ugly ass bird, a starship oriented on several blazes of light that were circling back on it. I pointed. "That wasn't an explosion -- that was a sonic boom."

"Holy shit," Impulse blurred to one of the vertical supports and grabbed on. "Sky Raiders!"

"Oh, fuck!" That was all I could get out before the ship blasted the capes pursuing it. Two dodged, but the other two were blown from the sky and shot toward the site like meteors.

Construction workers dove for anyplace safe, as if there was someplace safe twenty or thirty stories up in a steel framework. The first cape blew between the scaffolding and super structure, and hit the street on the far side in an explosion of power. The other cape went through the superstructure like a log crushing weeds as it rolled down hill. The steel bent with the impact, pulled like a spider's web to a point where beams began to snap. Workers, construction materials, beams, and anything else that had been up there were falling for the earth. It was raining men, and not in a good way.

"Impulse, go!" Not that I needed to tell Janet what to do. She was up the twisting structure like a bolt of lightning, snagging the closest falling men and speeding them to safety. Looking around, I saw Tar Patch, Onyx, and Blaize scrambling to do anything. Tar waved madly, tossing sticky fields of darkness in the air like safety nets. The workers fell through them, but the trailing darkness seemed to slow their descent. Onyx got to one of the damaged supports and dug her fingers into the steel. Heaving like only a tanker could, she anchored herself and tried to keep the building from pulling out of the foundations. Blaize stood there, and I could see on his face that he was frozen. His powers were all offensive. He couldn't even fly or try to catch people; his flame aura would burn them to death.

"Where the hell is Battlement?" I yelled at Blaize.

"I don't know!" He looked about, apparently as surprised as I was that our heavy hitter was MIA.

I didn't have time to question his absence. There were maybe ten or twenty seconds before men and metal would be crashing down all around me. There were too many people to snatch up one or two at a time. I extended my arms and imagined myself wrapping them around all if it, every girder, man and tool. It was impossible, but it didn't matter. I couldn't watch two dozen people fall to their deaths. I'd been able to lift small groups of objects, like a few books or a scattered bag of M&M's, but I'd never tried to hold so many or so much weight. It felt like my head was going to implode as my power wrapped about the area and latched onto anything that came into my reach. I dropped, staggering from the pain, and thought I was going to go head first off the beam, but a hand grabbed me and held me fast.

Hon'dah spoke, low and controlled, as he kept me from falling. "You are wood, Jason." Something about his voice sank into me, talking passed the pain and fear. "You will bend with the wind but you will not break. Bend. Let them pass through your branches and slow their passing."

It was all over in less than a minute, but it felt like hours. I kept bending and bending, until I was sure I'd snap. The last thing I remembered was crying, the taste of blood in my mouth, and begging Hon'dah to let me go. I woke up on a stretcher, my head feeling like it was split open, with Demonicalle pressing her palms to my skull while radiating a green, pulsing light. I coughed, feeling an itch in my throat and my sinuses. Demonicalle opened her eyes and smiled. "Hey there, Super Skull."

I groaned. "My skull feels ten sizes too small." Ugh, I could taste blood. Was that what the icky feeling was at the back of my throat?

"I'd keep quiet if I were you, kiddo. They're taking you off to Crowne Memorial to get you a neurological scan." She grinned, and for once her fangs didn't look menacing. "We'll talk later."

I closed my eyes and hoped the throbbing would end. "Great, another trip to the hospital," I thought. This really wasn't my year.

I woke up to the sound of heart monitors, distant calls for doctors to report to rooms, and the distinct smell of over oxygenated air. The lights were dim, except for one reading lamp beside the bed. I turned my head, feeling like I'd been through this all before. The last time, my final view had been of the eyes of an angel. This time, I'd passed out in the hands of a demon. At least the angel was the one sitting in the chair, closing his book and smiling at me as I groaned.

"Welcome back, Jason." I was used to the deep resonance of his voice, but it still made my stomach go to goop. "Are you in pain?"

I laughed, and immediately wished I hadn't. My throat was raw and I could still taste blood. At least my head didn't feel like it was going to split open. "We've been here before."

Urioch smiled. "You are in a different room, and we are not as concerned about your possibility of survival, but the circumstance is very similar."

"You didn't have to come," I mumbled, feeling embarrassed and touched at the same time. It was like having a big brother.

"I can read as easily here as at the apartment. Being here saves the time and effort of checking on your status."

God I was glad to see him. "You're a big, softy for a muscle bound, pointy eared freak. You know that?"

Urioch smiled. "I believe that was a backhanded compliment, Jason. Thank you."

I grinned, looking away. "You're welcome."

I was startled by the sight of a silent, tattooed sentinel standing near the window. He lifted his gaze to meet my eyes. There was something there. I wasn't sure what. Maybe it was respect. He nodded at me before flexing his hands. "I shall inform the others that you are awake." He vanished in a swirling of darkness and light.

"You saved many people today, Jason," Urioch said, pulling my thoughts away Hon'dah.

"Whoo hoo," I mumbled sarcastically. "Some hero I am. I use my powers and crumple like a rag doll."

Urioch sat back, scrutinizing me as I wallowed in my inadequacies. "That was not the impression I received from Demonicalle or Hon'dah's recounting of the incident. My understanding is that you managed to slow the fall of nearly a ton of steel and over a dozen workers long enough for your teammates to get the victims to safety."

"I didn't catch them all, did I?" I knew the answer already. I'd felt them, like marbles slipping through my fingers as I struggled to hold more and more. It wasn't fair. I should have been able to hold all of them.

Urioch held my gaze. "No, Jason, you did not. Of the twenty-eight workers who fell, neither you nor the other trainees were able to save three. You managed to catch eighteen. Tar Patch and Impulse saved another seven. There simply were not enough of you, or enough time, to save them all."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to remember what it felt like as they slipped passed. It'd been more than the physical aspect of my psycho kinesis that I had felt, I'd felt them all empathically. All the fear, terror, and horror stabbed at my gut, but that had been nothing compared to the sudden, violent wrenching I felt when they hit the ground. I'd felt them die. With each one of them, a part of me had died too. "How can you stand it?" I choked the question out as I tried to stop the tears from falling. "How can you go out there, day after day, knowing you can't save them?"

Urioch squeezed my shoulder, and all I wanted to do was curl around his hand and hide from the memories. "You treasure every victory, every person you save, and every 'thank you' you receive. You accept that you did everything you could, and that is all anyone can do."

They weren't the most inspiring words in the world, but he believed them. I grabbed on to them, and hoped some day I could believe them too.

I got out of the hospital on Thursday. The funerals were on Friday and Saturday. Friday, after the PPP counseling session, I stood in Brawler's office, arms crossed, staring out of the window. "This is bull shit."

Brawler frowned. "No, it's the rules. Police, Firemen, EMTs, can't afford to go to the funerals of the people they couldn't save. Period, the end."

"It's still bull shit."

"And it's still the rule; live with it!"

I couldn't live with it. Saturday morning I found myself standing at the funeral of one of the men I'd let die. The widow, Charlotte Bronson, broke down complete. She screamed at God. She demanded to know why her husband hadn't been saved. There was no answering her grief and loss. I almost couldn't keep standing. As soon as Charlotte was pulled away from the coffin, crying and begging for answers, I slipped out of the crowd and staggered as far away as I could get. I was glad I hadn't had any appetite for breakfast, because it made a lot less mess when I puked.

Demonicalle found me, sitting on one of the benches at the far end of the cemetery, with my head between my knees as I waited to puke again. She didn't say anything, but I could feel her annoyance; the "I told you so."

I glared up at her as I clenched my jaw. Why were we so angry? Why did we want to take it out on each other? With all we could do, why did we feel so powerless? "It fucking hurts, Calle"

"Yeah, I know." She looked down at me for a moment before extending her hand.

I took it, and she hauled me off the bench.

"If you'd done as you were told, you'd see how we deal with this shit." She started walking for the street. I followed her to a waiting cab. The back door opened as we got to the taxi, and she slid in. "C'mon, Jason."

We didn't say anything while the cab took us to wherever it was we were going. It obviously wasn't back to the PPP complex. We stopped in front of an old-time diner that looked closed.

"Out," Demonicalle ordered me as she handed the cabbie some cash.

I stood on the sidewalk until she closed the door, turned to me, and nodded to the diner door. "In."

If I hadn't been to Ceridwyn's Cauldron with Urioch, I'd have freaked when reality shifted upon our entrance. Instead, it was just another "one of those things." We walked for a large booth and I saw the guys, sans Battlement. He'd been MIA since the construction incident.

Blaize looked like he'd been sick too. Poor guy, I felt like a failure, but he felt worthless. His emotions gnawed at me as we walked to the table. Our eyes met, and it was like someone drilled a spike through my head. It wasn't so much painful as shocking. He reached out, cupped the back of my neck, and pulled me into a hug. I'd never expected to get a hug from an ex-Outcast. We gripped onto each other and he mumbled, "I couldn't do shit, Deathman. Don't punk on us. We all hurtin."

"I know." I held on, feeling how hard he was trying not to crack. God. I was a selfish prick. I squeezed Blaize. "You're a good guy, bro. We'll get through it."

He let me go and held out his fist. "Losers, unite."

I laughed, a bit too bitterly, and butted my fist against his. "Yeah."

Tar, Onyx and Impulse all butted their fists with ours. We laughed. It was better than crying again.

We spent the rest of the day at Thelma's. Yes, it's a hero diner. Thelma was a retired hero from before the Rikti Invasion. She opened the diner to give her fellow heroes a place where they could just go, sit, have some food, and talk about their problems. All her servers were ex-heroes, hero relations, or new heroes needing a safe place to work. It was like Jonothan's place, but with more chatter and activity. It made heroing feel normal in some small way that let us pretend we were part of a community, not just freaks trying to save the world.

The rest of the weekend sucked. We were all off at training on Monday. Everyone felt like shit, and none of us knew where Battlement was.

"Pause," Hon'dah called, holding up his hand.

Brawler entered the training area followed cautiously by a woman and a little boy. He waited for us to get to some form of attention before he spoke. "Team, this is Melissa Grousard-Martin and son Tommy. They made a request that deserved to be answered."

The little boy clung to his mother's leg. We weren't the usual bright and shiny heroes most kids recognized. My black and grey costume with the skull designs probably didn't help. How did a hero not look menacing to a child dressed as I was?

The woman smiled at us. It wasn't a happy smile, but it was sincere. "I wanted to thank you all for being at the site." I blinked as she continued. "You saved my husband, Tom, and most of the crew." Pausing again, she looked at us. "My son wanted to know who Death's Head was."

I coughed, not sure what to say. "That's me."

Melissa knelt down to the little boy who stared up at us with big, wide eyes. "That's him, Tommy."

Tommy was all of four years old, skinny and possibly a bit small for his age. He clung to his mother, looking at me as if I was the monster in the closet.

I knelt down, and though I knew it was a bad idea, I pulled my mask off so I'd look like a person. "Hi, Tommy."

He cocked his head, and his mother ruffled his hair. "See, he's just a nice man like daddy says." She whispered to him in a conspiratorial tone. "They only wear scary clothes to frighten bad guys."

After a few moments, he walked over and wrapped his arms about my neck. I thought I was going to bawl again. "Thank you for saving my daddy."

I couldn't help it, I balled. I wrapped my arms around the kid and cried. I never in a million years had thought I'd hear something like that from anyone. As I stopped acting like a putts, and realized Tommy still had his arms around my neck and wasn't crying, let him go and smiled the best I could manage. "Thanks, Tommy."

Melissa gave me a hug after I stood up. "Thank you." She looked at the rest of the team, and smiled. "Thank you all, so much."

Brawler introduced them to each of my team mates; no one else got the hugs, but the handshakes and sad smiles were sincere. I watched, remembering that Urioch told me to hold onto every victory and every thank you. As Melissa left with her awe struck little boy, I tucked away his words and the feeling of lightness they gave me. It wasn't much, but it was something. In a way, it made the struggle worth it.

the Conquered - Chapter 35

2007-04-02T14:27:23Z

***** Sebastian *****

I walked into our apartment with my briefcase in one hand as I tried to jiggle the keys out of the lock while holding my cell phone to my ear. "Si, Mama."

"Sebastian, you need to call me after you talk to Donito. Let me know what he thinks."

I groaned silently in my mind. Great. One more wedding detail. "I will, Mama."

"Call soon, Sebastian."

"Si, Mama. Te quiero."

I keyed off the phone and leaned against the door and dropped my briefcase. I was tired; at this time last year I juggled extra training, a full workload, and a new relationship with Don, yet I hadn't been as exhausted as I was now. I shoved my keys into my pocket and walked to the hall table and plugged in my cell to recharge. I heard some shuffling in the bedroom and walked towards it.

I stepped through the door and nearly tripped over a stack of boxes. "What's all this?"

Don came out from the bathroom with an arm full of towels and smiled. "I had some free time, and thought I'd start packing."

I groaned as I sat on the edge of the bed, once I'd traversed the maze of boxes. I undid my shoes and loosened my tie. "We aren't moving until the first."

Don set the towels in a box and went back into the bathroom. "I know. But we have to do what we can when we can."

I unbuttoned my shirt and wadded it up. I stood and dropped my pants then bent down to take off my socks. I stood in my briefs and rubbed my belly. I was hungry, but too tired to even think about dinner. Don came out of the bathroom with a few more items before dropping them on top of the towels. I stared in morbid fascination as he went back into the bathroom and whistled as he emptied the cabinet under the sink. I shook my head and stared at the bed, so inviting.

Giving in to temptation, I lay down and stared at the ceiling. After Don's third trip back from the bathroom, he glanced at me. "What? Lying down on the job?"

I rolled my neck lazily to watch him. "I'm just a little tired."

Don sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand along my thigh. "Bad day?"

"No. It was a good day. Just long."

He grinned and patted my belly. "Roll over."

I groaned. "Not now, Don. I'm not in the mood."

Don started to laugh. "Not exactly what I had in mind."

I looked at him and smiled, probably the first real one since lunch. I rolled onto my belly and felt Don shift until he straddled my ass. His big, strong hands gripped my shoulders and began kneading the stiff, tight muscles until I moaned. "Madre de Dios. That feels good."

Don leaned against my back until his lips brushed against my ear. "It's supposed to."

He slowly worked from my neck to the base of my spine, his thick fingers digging out knots, soothing tired muscles, and turned me into a limp pile of jelly. As he shifted, I felt his thick length, quite hard, press into my hip. The very thought of sex before he'd started was beyond me. Now, it didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Don worked his way down my thighs so he could work his magic fingers on my ass, taking it into his hands and rubbing my ass until I was hard, leaking, and practically begging into the pillow. He continued down and worked each thigh and calf until he gripped my ankle. I heard the soft rustle of cloth and felt the strong, hairy plane of his chest press into my upper thighs as he gripped my feet and worked on the souls. I whimpered as he pressed into my instep and the last of my tension fled. He pulled my foot towards his mouth and bit into the ball of my foot gently.

I cried out as the pain/pleasure registered and I practically purred. I muttered under my breath, and until Don moaned, I didn't realize that I spoke Spanish. Don dropped my foot and sat up, grabbing the waistband of my underwear and practically ripped them off me. With one swift move, he parted my legs and buried his face against my ass. The first swipe of his tongue practically made me shoot against the sheets.

Before I knew it, Don was pressing his chest against my back, his thighs on either side of my own, and his knees pressing hard into the mattress as his cock brushed hard against me. He pressed against me and I felt my body open to accept him. He moved hard and fast, pounding me into the mattress.

The bed springs squeaked, the headboard hit the wall, I whimpered into the pillow, but over it all, was Don's throaty, breathy moans that reverberated through my ribcage as he bottomed out inside me. As I cried out my release, calling Don every endearing thing in Spanish I knew, Don sped up, rocking hard and fast into me, practically burning me with the sweet friction.

Just as Don stopped and I felt his body shudder hard, his cries echoing off the walls, I heard a creak and snap. The bed collapsed underneath us as Don went sprawling against my back. His chin hit the back of my head and I saw stars from it.

When the bed had settled and we were both dazed and panting heavily, Don lifted half off me, pulling out and flipping me over. His lip was bloodied as he cupped my face in his hand. His body still shook and all his hair was matted with sweat. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." We stared into each other's eyes until we couldn't hold back any longer. He collapsed against my side as we started to laugh. We laughed until we both had tears streaming down our faces.

After several minutes, and we'd run out of breath, we looked at each other. Don propped himself on his elbows and stared around the mess that the bed was in. "Shit. I can't believe we broke the bed."

I fought back another giggle. "Well. We knew we'd need a new one."

He looked over at me and grinned. "Guess what we're doing Saturday?"

"Apologizing to our downstairs neighbors?"

Don looked horrified for a second. Then he laughed. "That too."

We helped each other up and showered to cool down. As Don worked to remove the slats and headboard from the bed, leaving only the mattress and box springs on the floor, I called and ordered some take out. Don had slipped on some shorts and a tee shirt to carry things out to the dumpster. I pulled on a pair of Don's silly boxers that I got for him for his birthday and crawled into bed with my briefcase. Don came back into the apartment and shut the front door. I could smell the food from the bed. He rummaged around the kitchen before he came back to the bedroom. I set my work aside as he slipped off his clothes, stripping down to his underwear.

We ate for a few moments before my mother's call came back to me. "Shit. Don, Mama wants to know if you'd like to have a rehearsal dinner here for our friends or wait until we get to Wisconsin."

"As in wedding rehearsal?"

I shook my head. "More like a dinner for all the friends who can't make it to Wisconsin."

He pondered as he chew on another bite of pad thai. "Probably a good idea."

"I thought you'd say that. Would you mind calling her and telling her how many people?"

He leaned over and kissed me as he grabbed our plates. "Sure."

I got back to my files as Don brought a glass of water and the phone into the bedroom. He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear. "Hola, Mama."

I could hear her voice, but not the words. "Si, Mama." I smiled as he tried to talk to my mother in as much Spanish as he could manage. For a gringo, he didn't do too badly.

"Actually, Sebastian and I are going to be busy Saturday morning." I looked up as he paused. "We need to buy a new bed." My eyes went wide as he grinned at me. "Yeah, we busted up this one. Knocked it flat to the ground."

I wrestled the phone out of Don's hands and glared at him as I put the phone to my ear. "Mama, it isn't like that."

I heard a low, long chuckle fill my ears. "Antonio?"

"Yes, big brother. It's me."

I stared at Don and shook my head while mouthing the words, "you're dead," at him. "Did Don talk to Mama at all?"

"Yes. I took over to ask if I could come up and hang out Saturday before I went skiing at Tahoe with Carlos again."

"If you want to shop with us again… I don't have a problem." I looked at Don and he grinned and nodded. "Yeah. What time?"

"Can I come up tomorrow night?"

"Sure. We have class at the Dojo, but you're more than welcome."

"I'll see you at six then."

I hung up the phone and dove for Don. "You'll pay for that!"

Don laughed as he rolled me unto my back. "Gladly."

***** Sean *****

Who knew it was hot in Florida in February? I wiped my brow with the hem of my cut-off t-shirt and then pressed the doorbell. I turned around and looked at the lawn while I waited for an answer. Damn, it was hot. I heard the door unlock and I turned around.

A man who looked like a larger, older version of Gordon answered the door. "May I help you?" His eyes scanned me briefly, pausing at my shorts before coming back up to my chest and then face.

Are my nipples showing through this shirt? That was a stupid question. The material was already damp; of course they were showing through. His gaze wasn't lude, or even particularly sexual, but the effect of his short appraisal was immediate; my already tight shorts got even tighter. "Hi, I'm Sean... uhm... I'm here to pick up Gordon?"

Gordon got to the door before the man could respond. "Dad, stop scoping out my date; you old letch," he laugh, smacking his father on the arm while sliding past. "Hey, Sean." I didn't get to say anything back other than a startled mumble as Gordon pushed in and gave me a quick kiss. His father looked about as shell shocked while I felt as Gordon spun me about and shoved me for the street, calling out, "Don't wait up!"

I couldn't even formulate words until we were around the corner. "What the hell was that?"

Gordon started to laugh. "Just trying to get my dad to loosen up." When he saw my confused expression, he shrugged. "I came home last night from the movies and caught Dad and Lyle making out on the couch." Rolling his eyes, he made a disgusted noise. "You'd have thought my grandmother had walked in on them or something. Dad was off the couch, sending Lyle to the floor, faster than you could say 'oops'."

"So what does that have to do with kissing me on the front porch?"

"I don't know." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You were standing there, looking like the cover model of Twink Magazine, and I just thought maybe if Dad knew I wasn't grossed out by gay guys, he'd lighten up." He looked at me, sighed, and walked a little slower as he looked ahead. "I didn't mean anything by it."

I grinned. "Damn. And there I'd gone getting my hopes up..."

Gordon pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them up. "No, man... really. I'm sorry."

I laughed and shouldered him. "You're cool for a straight guy, Gordon." I looked up the street and added, "Saves me having to turn you down... you're just not my type."

"Excuse me?"

"You're too skinny, man."

Gordon groped his pouch. "Not that skinny!"

I just cracked up. "For a guy insisting he's straight, you're certainly working hard to make me think otherwise."

"I'm straight, just not narrow. Guy sex doesn't scare me." He grinned. "I even snuck a couple of my Dad's videos once, just to see if I was kidding myself."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. By the time we got down to the park, I needed to satisfy my curiosity. "And?"

"Apparently my Dad's bi... cause one of his vids was called 'Curious'. The guy sex thing didn't do it for me, but they also had girl on girl, and guy-guy-girl, and girl-guy-guy-girl."

I had the feeling I'd need a score card for that video. "And?" I spotted Katie's car and headed that way.

He grinned. "The guy-girl combos were hot. If my woman wanted a threesome with another guy, I wouldn't go screaming from the room."

I laughed. "Maybe I should borrow a few of those."

Gordon raised an eyebrow at me.

"Who knows, maybe I'll have some hot guy offer me a three-way with him and his girlfriend. I'd rather know in advance whether or not I'll run screaming from the room."

"Run screaming from what," Katie asked as she finished pulling the cooler from the back seat.

"Naked female parts," Gordon said, trying to make it sound spooky.

Katie snorted. "Sean's too cool to be run off by a naked girl." She kissed Gordon on the cheek. "Just like you're too cool to be terrified of a naked guy."

"I admit, some guys have better asses than girls," Gordon appraised, performing an exaggerated maneuver to get a good look at my butt.

Katie threatened him as she handed him the cooler. "No staring at Sean's butt! That's my gay boy ass until such time as a real man claims it."

Gordon puffed up like a blowfish. "I'm a real man!"

"There he goes again, trying to insist he's man enough for me," I teased. I turned around, bracing my hands on the trunk of her car, and pushed my butt towards them. "Do these shorts make my ass look big?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Katie turned Gordon around had shoved him towards the picnic area. "Right now you're a pack mule, and I have something to help slim down Sean's ass problem."

Gordon left, muttering to himself.

I stood back up. "Your gay boy ass, huh?"

Katie pulled out the towels and lotion bag. "Mine. You're going to make an issue out of it?"

"Nope," I replied, taking the towels, "Just how am I supposed to get the ownership papers transferred when I find that real man?"

Katie grinned and started after Gordon. "If he's a real man, Sean, there will be no doubt as to who owns your ass. No transfer of title will be necessary."

I loved Katie, but I hoped I would meet a real man real soon. She had no use for my ass, and my toys weren't cuddle worthy.

***** Andrew *****

Who knew that wedding rehearsals were so very, very technical? I mean, the groom will stand at this point and turn. I'd escort Mom at a specific pace, following the music. Moira would follow shortly behind, etc, etc, etc. It got ridiculous after only a few minutes. No wonder Mom was dying of jitters.

It was good to meet Kelly and Malcolm. Kelly, with her tall, willowy frame, still losing a few pregnancy pounds and her golden blonde hair was adorable as she held little Ian. Malcolm with his dark hair, military buzzed, and squat, muscular frame looked adorable together as they glanced at each other. I sat by them as she fed Ian, rocking him as Malcolm talked with Buck near one of the tables. "Glad you could make it over here for this."

Kelly looked up from where she burped Ian and smiled. "It is good to finally meet you."

I smiled as I plucked at the table cloth absently. "Yeah, a few phone calls don't really let you know how you're going to like someone."

"I agree." Ian let out a very impressive belch to which we both smiled. "And it's good to see Dad so happy again."

"Yeah." I looked down at the table cloth. "I wanted to thank you… for sharing your father with me."

I felt her hand press against my arm. "It goes both ways. I love your mother. Thanks for sharing her with me."

I looked up and smiled. "You're welcome."

I heard a knife clinking against a glass and looked to where Buck stood, grinning like an idiot. "Family. Friends. Everyone. I want every body here to know how happy I am. Thank you for sharing this with us."

Mom stood and kissed his cheek. "Ditto."

We all chuckled. I raised my water glass and smiled. I caught sight of Taylor across the room and watched as my smile dimmed. Damn. I looked down and set my glass aside. The specter of my nightmare and the revelation about my almost infidelity had put yet another strain on us. I looked over at Kelly and smiled a bit sadly.

She looked between Taylor and myself and gave me a rueful grin. "Trouble in paradise?"

"We're working on some stuff."

She nodded. "I know how that goes." My eyebrows rose and she smiled. "Did you think we all go through life happy? Gay or straight, no relationship is easy."

I rolled my eyes. "I knew that. But… you both seem so retarded in love for each other."

"We are." She laughed. "But that doesn't mean we don't have problems." She patted Ian's back and kissed the top of his downy head. "Do you think I wanted to live in Germany?"

"I hear it's not a bad place."

"It isn't. But my life was here; my father, my job, everything."

I frowned and shifted in my chair. "But, you're there."

"Yes. I am." She sighed. "Malcolm's in the Air Force. There isn't a choice. He can't say that he doesn't want to go." She looked over at her husband and smiled. "It was a tough time for us. Do I stay? Do I go? If I stayed, was it over for us?"

I nodded. I'd had an idea going through my head for quite some time, but wasn't sure how right it was. "I've thought that a relationship is something to be fought for. When you stop fighting for it, it's over."

She grinned and nodded. "I'd say that's about right. Do I fight for Malcolm, or fight him?" She kissed Ian's head again. "I fought for him. For us."

I shut my eyes as the words washed over me, clearing away the pain and hurt. Her hand touched my arm, and I opened my eyes. "You have to have faith."

I nodded. "I do. More than I ever thought I'd have in anyone."

Kelly flashed me a killer smile as she leaned forward and handed me Ian. "Do you mind holding him while I grab something from the buffet?"

I held him to me, shifting my hands. "Uh. Sure." My hand went to his butt as his head lolled towards my neck. "Great. I got it."

She chuckled and adjusted the burp cloth under Ian's head. "You're not a natural, but you'll be fine."

I stared down at the top of Ian's head. Hell, he wasn't even two months old yet. How come I always ended up holding the babies? I felt his hands balled up into fists, bopping against my neck. I adjusted him so he lay in the crook of my arm, his head cradled against my elbow. Dark, open eyes stared at me. Ian was still in the nearly ugly-baby phase, before his expressions and features became clearly defined. He was getting there, but he was still very much a blank canvass.

I found myself lost in his eyes as he kept trying to feed me his fist. I'd playfully nip at it, and watch as his eyes sharpened on my face. He felt so light, so helpless in my arms. "Found a new friend?"

My head went up to see Taylor standing over me. I smiled as Ian clocked my chin and swiped his very thin, but very sharp finger nail against my skin. "Ouch." I looked back at the baby and smiled. "Yeah, I think I have."

Taylor sat beside me and took one of Ian's feet in his hand. "He's so tiny."

I looked over at Taylor and smiled. "Yeah. He is." I leaned in to Taylor and touched my forehead to his. "I'm afraid I'm going to drop him."

Taylor chuckled. "You'd never hurt him. It isn't in you."

"Accidents happen." I mentally kicked my own ass when Taylor's eyes clouded. But he quickly brushed his thoughts aside.

"Yeah, they do. But you'd feel like hell if it did. And that says something."

We were still walking on egg shells around each other, especially since I'd been the latest catalyst in the gap between us. "Did you get something to eat?" Good one, Jackson, mother hen him some more.

But he only smiled. "Yeah, I did. How about you?"

I smiled as Taylor ran his fingers through my hair. I'd missed this so much, the easy, simple gestures of affection. "A bit. I wasn't that hungry."

His eyes opened wide in mock-shock. "You? Mr. Vacuum Stomach, not hungry?"

I nudged him with my shoulder. "I'm still working off the road trip weight."

"That was weeks ago. Give me a break."

I nodded. "Yeah. I ate."

Whether it was because we ran out of things to say, or the awkwardness of the last week, I didn't know. But we both grew tense to the point Taylor stood and walked to Moira and Tom. I watched as he leaned towards Moira and smiled at something she said. I looked down to see Ian asleep in my arms. Taylor would look really good holding a baby.

After a few minutes, I felt someone standing by me. I looked up to see Malcolm looking down at his son. Kelly came up beside her husband and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Got something to eat?"

Kelly looked over at me and smiled. "Yeah. Thanks."

I looked down at Ian. "I think he's down for the count."

Malcolm chuckled. "His ears haven't cleared from the flight yet. He didn't sleep worth a damn at all last night."

I looked around, trying to figure out where Taylor had gone. "I hate to move him, but…"

Malcolm reached down and picked Ian up out of my arms. "No need to keep you on permanent baby sitter duty."

"Thanks." I got up and found Tom, chatting with Moira. I tapped his shoulder and waited for him to turn around. "Did you see where Taylor went?"

"I didn't." I started to move away, but his hand stopped me. "Did you get those papers signed?"

"I'll have them to you Tuesday, before you guys leave."

He nodded. "We'll stop by on our way out of town."

I hugged him quickly and kissed my sister on the cheek. I stared out over the crowd, searching for Taylor. Moira came up behind me and whispered in my ear, "Taylor's out on the balcony."

It was cold out. I walked by the coat check to the private upper floor of the restaurant before I stepped outside. I saw Taylor leaning against the railing, watching the lights twinkle on the Sacramento River. I placed his coat around his shoulders and placed my hands around his waist, lowering my chin to his forehead. "I love you, Taylor."

His hands came to rest on my own as he leaned back into my embrace. "I love you, too."

I shut my eyes, trying to block out the images of his hurt; of his pain. I wanted to wipe it all away, make him believe; make him have faith in us; in me. I sniffed deeply of his hair, taking in the smell of his shampoo. It made me grin.

My hands came up to his shoulders, moving over his body. I turned Taylor around and braced his face with my hands, his eyes open, but empty. What would it take to bring that sparkle back? What would it take to put us back to where we were? And did I want to go back to where we were?

I smiled at Taylor before I lowered to take his lips. My mouth moved over his as I brushed his lips once, twice, then three times. I pulled back to look in his eyes, seeing questions without answers in them. I didn't want to go back, I wanted the future, the stronger, better future; the one where he was open and honest and wanting to trust me. I didn't know how to tell him, but I could hopefully show him. With a groan, I kissed him again, putting all my need, all my frustration, all my love into it.

We kissed for long moments, drawing out the flavor and taste, the sensations. Then I felt his arms come around me, his cast against my shoulders, and his free hand threading through my hair. I wanted to touch him, taste him everywhere. None of it mattered any longer. Nothing but us; but this. I pulled away from his lips and started nipping kisses along his jaw until I could nuzzle his throat. "We can't lose this. We won't lose this."

"Never. Never. I'm not going anywhere."

I pressed my lips against his again, moaning as he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to mine. The groan left me as I pulled back from his mouth and buried my face against his neck, feeling his arms squeeze me tightly to him.

We held each other for several minutes, silently, with only the beating of our hearts heavy in my ears. I stepped away and cupped his face. "I love you."

His smile spread slowly across his face. His eyebrows drawing close together. "What's going on?"

I grinned and trailed my fingers along his jaw. "I have faith in you. In us." I swallowed. "I'm not giving up the fight for us." I pressed my lips against the frown between his eyebrows.

He drew my face to his lips and kissed me, pressing hard against my lips. I stepped out of his embrace and smiled. "We still have dinner to get through."

Taylor smiled and shook his head. "And toasts. And deserts."

I groaned. "Then…"

Taylor smiled. "And then…"

***** Taylor *****

I just wanted sex. That's it. Just sex. Why did Andrew have to hang so much on it? Why did it have to be some sign from above that we were "okay"? If we could just have sex again, without all the baggage, then we really would be "okay". Real life wasn't like the romance novels; one night of mind blowing sex did not "happily ever after" make. One night of sex could be life changing, relationship saving, and all the rest, sure, but we had other things to deal with; things bigger than Andrew's endowment and my ever widening ass.

I watched Andrew, son of the bride, make his rounds again. I couldn't believe how achy and needy I felt after only one argument, a couple confessions, and a week of abstinence. Mix together two control freaks, a dose of denial, some insecurities and maybe even a bit of self loathing and you had one nasty poison to kill a relationship. We hadn't managed a lethal dose, but some anti-venom would've been nice. I wanted my dose administered in the ass by a big hairy, muscle bound doctor.

"If I didn't know any better," Moira announced her approach in a low, knowing tone, "I'd say you were pining." She sipped her drink. "Or horny."

"More than a little of both," I admitted, taking another sip of my own drink.

"Anything I can do?" She asked, and then laughed at the look I gave her. "I meant emotional support or the like; resolving the horniness issue is up to you."

"Nah, thanks Moira. Just two pig headed, stubborn guys trying to work their way around a few issues." I looked at my watch and sighed. "Can you roll time ahead a couple hours? That would be useful."

Moira checked the little purse she had with her, examining the contents carefully. "Nope, sorry; left my time turner back at the house."

Ack, a Harry Potter reference. "Geek."

"Proud of it," she retorted.

"Magic won't solve this anyway," I sighed, "just a lot of communication and work."

"I'm sure you two will work it out," Moira assured me, smiling at Andrew as he glanced our way.

"Yeah," I agreed, "we will. I'd just like to get some of the rewards for diligence and hard work."

Moira raised an eyebrow. "Been that long, huh?"

"A week," I grumbled.

Moira started snickering, which turned into a full struggle not to laugh herself off her feet. She got control of herself and shook her head. "Give me a break, Taylor. A week does not a failed relationship make."

I glowered at her. "No," I said through clenched teeth, more angry at myself than her, "it doesn't."

"Well, I'm sure that will fix itself too." She shook her head again and then kissed me on the forehead. "I love having gay brothers," she murmured lovingly, "you guys put so much of my life into perspective for me."

It was impossible to stay angry with someone who was so lovingly delighted with your issues. "Glad to be of help," I grumbled, knowing I was all bark and no bite.

Tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock. I looked at my watch again; it didn't help. A watched pot never boils, was a falsehood; it did, but our perception of time was inversely proportionate to how fast it passed. The more we paid attention to time, the slower it passed; the less attention we paid to time, the faster it went. The problem was that we only paid attention to the time when we wanted or needed to be doing something else, but we couldn't until a certain "point in time." So instead of enjoying the party, I could only think of how long it would be before we could leave.

"You look distracted," Kelly, Andrew's soon to be stepsister, commented quietly.

I looked at her. "Lots on my mind." I looked over her husband and mine as they laughed at something we couldn't hear. "Malcolm is a lot more comfortable here than I would have expected."

Kelly looked over at her husband. "We weren't sure how he'd react. He's never had to look at how he'd deal with a 'real gay man' before. He's never…"

"… met a gay man before," I echoed. How many times had I heard that line? Most people had met gay men and women, they just never knew it because the average gay person didn't have a Scarlet G imprinted on their foreheads. Kelly raised an eyebrow at me, and I sighed, "I apologize; I've heard that line too many times in the last year."

"I can see how that would be annoying," she agreed, sipping her drink.

"Ten percent of the population is gay." I took a sip of my drink as well. "If you add in the non-practicing segment of bisexuals, I'd guess we're talking well over twenty, maybe even thirty percent. With a confirmed one out of ten people, and probably two out of ten, it's more likely people have spent most of their lives in company of gays." I nodded toward Andrew. "Flaming gay-hood is usually an affectation, but it isn't how the majority of gay men act. Andrew certainly isn't what most straight people expect when they meet a gay man."

"Malcolm said the same thing about you and Andrew," Kelly admitted. "He'd expected, well... how did he put it... a couple of 'nellies'?"

I nearly snorted my drink. "I haven't heard that one in a while."

"He still isn't all that comfortable with it, but he's keeping an open mind."

I smiled. "That's all anyone can ask. You married a good man, Kelly."

"Yeah," she sighed, smiling whimsically. After a moment, she nodded to where Andrew, Malcolm and Tom were laughing at some unheard joke. "So did you."

Yeah, I had. I looked at my watch again. Tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock.

Awakenings - Chapter 02

2007-03-23T19:36:12Z

I scrutinized my reflection again, jutting my chin forward while I ran my thumb along my jaw. Shaving used to be easy. I never had a problem with getting a smooth, clean shave when I had a dark, maturing beard. Since I woke up in the hospital, I'd skipped maturing and gone straight to ancient. White. My hair was Santa-esque and I wasn't even twenty yet. Grumbling as I found a few nearly invisible missed whiskers; I picked up the disposable razor and scraped them away. My face looked like I'd run it through a sand blaster. I'd probably taken off more skin than hair.

"Jason, we're going to the mall, not a ball, you don't have to be beautiful." Dr. Perrin sounded both amused and annoyed. I still couldn't believe my doctor was taking me clothes shopping.

"I'm trying for presentable, not miracles!" I yelled through the bathroom door. "You try shaving invisible hair and see how long it takes you!"

She laughed, and I heard the sound of her wheeling back down the hall. "Try shaving your legs when you have no sense of feeling in them, Jason, and then you can bitch at me about the color of your whiskers."

Okay, she had a point. I tugged at my hair, eyeing the quarter inch or so of pure white rising up from my scalp below my old dark brown. Being in the gang I hadn't cared much about my looks. Hell, staying less than appealing was important. The last thing I'd needed was one of the guys thinking I had a pretty mouth. I dropped my razor in the cup that held my few items from the hospital: generic tooth brush, a tube of ultra-white with fluoride, one "unbreakable" comb and the now-too-dull razor. They looked pathetic compared to the neat, orderly, clean, perfect, tools of personal grooming on the other side of the sink. Urioch's kit was all steel and black, like something out of Sharper Image. His shit was cool as hell.

Dr. Perrin shook her head as I came out of the bathroom and tossed my towel at my bed through the door. "You look beautiful, Jason. I've only got half a day here."

"I think I'm old enough to go to the store on my own." Of course, I had no clue how to find the campus book store, or half the places that had been recommended to me for safe shopping. I could read; there were signs; I'd manage.

She just smiled at me. It was the smile an older relative, maybe a big sister, would give her younger sibling. Why the fuck did she like me? Dr. Perrin started laughing. "You might as well ask those questions out loud, Jason. You're projecting them so strongly that there's just no point ignoring them."

I glared at her. I hated it when she read me. I hated it more that she was telling the truth; she hadn't been trying. "So, why do you?"

Her smile softened, and I felt a touch of sadness and regret, but mostly her smile matched the feeling of fond memories I sensed. "You remind me of Patrick." Nodding her head at the door, she wheeled out of the living room. "Let's get moving. We can talk and walk."

I didn't push for any more information until we were out of the building and heading towards the Tram Station. "Who's Patrick?"

"My brother." She smiled as she pushed her way up the sidewalk.

I eyed her ultra-light sports chair. She'd put on workout gloves as we rode down the elevator, and I was amazed at how fluidly she kept the chair moving over the uneven cement. "And what about me reminds you of your brother," I asked, hoping she wouldn't leave me hanging.

The bus pulled up and Dr. Perrin wheeled to the handicap lift. "Let's leave that for another day, Jason. I don't want to inflate your ego this soon after a hospital stay. It might hamper your recovery."

"You're not serious," I complained.

"Mostly," she replied, her eyes glinting with humor as she hit the button to make the lift go up. "And, Jason, away from the office I prefer being called Amanda. Dr. Perrin makes me feel old."

God. This was going to be a long day.

There should have been a law against letting women take guys shopping. I'd have been happy with the army surplus or Wally World. By the time Amanda was done with me, my feet were killing me. The bitch had no mercy. I could barely carry all the shit.

"The least you could do is hold some of this stuff in your lap while I try to get my keys." I felt like I was juggling two elephants, a hippo, and a flock of ostriches. "You made me buy all this shit."

"Jason, you are such a whiner." She pulled about three packages from my load and shook her head. "You get all new clothes, school books, a stereo, shoes, have an application in with the department for a portable computer, and you're complaining about the burden."

"You aren't the one whose arms are about to fall off," I grumbled through clenched teeth as I struggled to get my key out of my jeans pocket.

Amanda shifted her bags and rolled her eyes. "Jason, just float the damn things."

I paused, looking at her like she'd just revealed the mystery of the ages. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Obviously," she replied flatly, but her lips turned up at the corners.

The packages lifted into the air without so much as a firm thought. "That is so cool."

She laughed. "You're powers, Jason, not mine."

I got the apartment door open and floated the packages in ahead of us. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not used to having the option. Okay?"

"Okay." She looked at her watch. "My shift starts in an hour."

"Want something to drink?"

"Anything with caffeine."

Amanda wheeled in while I took my loot to my room. I could hear the shower going; Urioch was home. I came back out to the living room and crossed to the kitchen. The fridge was stocked with lots of healthy things. Not a soda in sight. "Uhm… we've got some ice tea." I pulled it out and sniffed it. "Not sure if it's sweetened."

"That's fine." She pulled up to the island and looked through the stack of paperbacks on the corner. "He certainly reads a lot, doesn't he?"

I shrugged, opening cabinets until I found the glasses. "Ice?"

"Sure." She studied the titles, sorting the books as she went.

Handing her a glass tea, I put the pitcher back in the fridge. "The guy's a book worm on speed."

Amanda nodded. "There is a wide variety of books in this stack."

"I like to keep my reading as diverse as possible," Urioch commented as he walked into the living room. "Good afternoon, Dr. Perrin." He smiled from her to me. "I see you've moved in, Jason."

"Uhm, yeah." I blinked a couple times. I hadn't imagined him being hairy. I also had to look twice as he finished toweling down his hair. He had no nipples. That was just fucking weird. Everyone had nipples, didn't they? I was also a little intimidated. I'd always kept myself in good shape, especially in the gang, but he made me look like a fucking wimp. Of course, he was also about eight inches taller than me. I frowned as I caught Amanda smiling at me. "What?"

She sipped her tea and her smile deepened. "Two attractive men. One nearly naked. Why shouldn't I smile?"

"That isn't why you're smiling," I accused. Why was I feeling flushed? There was no way I was blushing.

"Oh? Why is it I'm smiling then, Mr. Empath?" Amanda challenged me with her eyes. After a moment, I looked away.

"I don't fucking care…" I skirted around the edge of the island. "Thanks for the help. I've got shit to unpack." I didn't need to have a stare down with a crip. We both knew she was yanking my chain. "See you next week."

Amanda stayed for a little while after I went to my room. I heard her talking with Urioch. I didn't listen. I had to get my shit put away and get my stuff ready for classes on Monday. Patterson actually managed to get me into Paragon University for the summer semester. The old bitch annoyed the shit out of me, but she did what she said she would. I didn't have to like her, but I guess I didn't need to give her any grief either. We were stuck for the next five years. I'd manage to be civil if she would.

I was pulled out of my clothes-packing-induced trance by a soft knock on the doorframe. Urioch stood there, in jeans and a dark blue tee. I wasn't used to seeing him out of his metal power suit or without the alien technology monocle he wore. "Are you hungry?"

I shrugged. I felt bad for just walking out on Amanda. I'd just been so fucking uncomfortable, kind of like a trapped animal. I had to run. "Haven't eaten since lunch."

Urioch cocked his head to the side, regarding me curiously. "That was not an answer, Jason."

I groaned. It was just my luck that I picked a roommate who took everything literally. "Yeah, I'm hungry."

"Do you have any food allergies?"

I rolled my eyes. "Didn't you read my medical data?"

He glanced at me, his smile slipping to a neutral expression. "I was not given your medical information. Were you provided mine before the room assignment?"

"No," I sighed, closing the last drawer. "I just thought because you're my parole officer that you'd have that kind of info."

"I am not your parole officer, Jason. I am your roommate. You will meet your Parole Officer at your program orientation. " He pulled his hand from the doorframe and stepped back into the hall. "I intend to go out for a meal and hoped that you would join me."

Ok, I felt like a shit. Why was it so hard to accept he was just that fucking nice? "Shellfish," I blurted out before he could turn away. "I'm allergic to shellfish. An iodine allergy."

Urioch smiled again. It was warm, sincere, and made me wish I could just be that cool. "Did you obtain all your school and training texts?"

Groaning, I sat on the edge of my bed. "No. Finding the fucking things is like being on a scavenger hunt. I have my school books, but a couple of the texts for my training are just weird."

"Do you have the list?"

He stepped in as I nodded. I handed him the list and he looked it over briefly. "We can obtain the majority of these books at Ceridwyn's Cauldron or Pandora's." He handed the sheet back. "We can enjoy a meal at Ceridwyn's as well. Kill two birds with one stone, as you humans say." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you drink coffee?"

I grinned; he looked like a muscle bound Spock, but better looking. "Yeah, I love double-espressos."

"Then we will try Ceridwyn's. If Jonathan does not have your texts, then we will stop at Pandora's before returning home."

I followed on his heels. I'd never heard of either of those places. "So, where are these stores?"

Pulling open the door, Urioch smiled. "Steel Canyon."

For people who had never been to the structured chaos known as Paragon City, there were a few traveling tips any visitor had to know. First, the city was broken into zones that were separated by security walls. Yes, it sounded militant and it was, but Paragon wasn't a normal place. Sure, there were super heroes and places of power all over the world, but Paragon was a weirdness magnet. If the world was going to be invaded by space aliens, like the Rikti, Paragon would be, without fail, the place they would invade. Supernatural events, giant nuclear fire breathing monsters, and the return of ancient gods were all just part of the local history. In the movies, Tokyo was always the target for big, ugly monsters and alien invasions. In the real world, it was Paragon. As such, the city was segregated into walled zones. Each zone was broken into districts. Each zone had its own look, personality and economy. Until the Rikti Invasion, I'd lived with my parents in Atlas Park. After the world went to shit, I'd spent the last few years in Kings Row. Now that I was a "Cape in Training," I lived with a weird alien in Galaxy City. Even for a local, Paragon City was confusing.

I hadn't been in Steel Canyon in nearly seven years. My parents had been city employees, not millionaires. We'd come for the dedication of one of the statues, or parks, or something. I hadn't paid attention. I was twelve. My attention had been captured by the sky scrapers, taller than anything I'd ever seen, which seemed to reach for miles into the sky. Of course, they didn't reach miles, not even a half mile, but as Urioch and I got off the tram and stepped out of the station, none of that mattered. I was caught, again, by a sense of wonder I hadn't realized I could still feel. The place was awe inspiring.

Urioch nudged me out of my open mouthed amazement before heading for the ramps. "Impressive sight, is it not?"

"Yeah," I breathed, as I followed him down the ramps. In Kings Row there weren't any buildings over ten stories. Okay, there were, but not in my neighborhood, the Gish. The smallest buildings here were at least a hundred stories tall, or taller. "Is Ceridwyn's Cauldron in one of those?"

Urioch chuckled. "No, Jonathan is a man of more modest means." He gestured to the West as we got down to the sidewalk. "Ceridwyn's is across Ginry Ridge Park from Steel Canyon Medical. Pandora's is North of that, just above the Independence Port tunnel."

"Good thing I bought new sneakers," I laughed, looking passed the towering buildings to the West Wall in the distance, "that's going to be a long walk."

Urioch frowned. "I usually fly." As quickly as the frown appeared, it was gone. "The walk will be a pleasant change."

If only it had been that simple. Though the Skulls and Hellions primarily fought over territory in Kings Row, Atlas Park, Galaxy City and Perez Park, Steel Canyon, for all it's shine and shimmer, wasn't any safer. Steel had its own problems with crime; hell, all of Paragon did. Dusk wasn't the best time in the world to walk the streets anywhere in Paragon City.

"Hey, skin head!"

Urioch stopped as four figures stepped out of the elongating shadows of the buildings. The guy who'd called out wasn't a bruiser, but something about him felt powerful. Maybe it was because I could feel his confidence and his contempt, but he made me nervous.

"Hand over your wallets and we won't have to mess up your boy-toy's pretty face."

I flinched, but Urioch didn't even blink. He just shifted, ever so slightly, into a more solid stance as he spoke. "You should reconsider your life choices, Outcast. You will come to regret your illegal activities."

Outcasts. The Outcasts boasted that they were Nature's Fury, because they had the powers of the elements at their command. The average Outcast made a Skull or Hellion look like a chump. A group of Outcasts offered a buffet selection of ways to die; electrocution, incineration, being frozen, or simply smashed into the pavement were all equally unappealing ends.

"What are you, a bleeding heart social worker? We gave the last social bitch who tried to tell us what to do something to remember us by." His chuckle was echoed by the others and met with a few nods. I could think of a half dozen very unpleasant remembrances that he might have meant.

"How unfortunate you didn't listen to her." Urioch's voice deepened. It went from his normal, musically undertoned voice to something with a darker, harsher undercurrent "Leave." Lifting his hand, blue white light erupted from it, swirling like a living thing that cast aside the ever lengthening shadows on the street.

The Outcast boss stepped back, surprised. "Fuck, a cape."

I grinned. "Missed the pointed ears huh?"

"Smart mouthed boy-toy," he snarled, his hands crackling with power of his own. "I'm gonna put your lips to good use after we drop your daddy."

Okay, he was a Shocker. Joy. I barely had enough time to roll before he unleashed a bolt of lightning at me. Thank God for Coach Jensen in High School. He'd always made us do back rolls, falls and such. I looked back up in time to see Urioch unleash an energy torrent that threw Shocker and two of his cronies about ten yards back and onto their asses. The fourth Outcast, however, distorted in a mystical aura as his hands shifted into what looked like living rock. He swung, hitting Urioch square across the face, and sent him staggering back, stunned. Was that blood? My mind reeled at the sight of Urioch wiping away something dark from his lip.

"Jason, run." Urioch swung at the Brick, ducking under the rock-fisted Outcast's punch, and energy flared as he hit the man square in the chest. The Brick flew back, smashing into the wall of the nearest building, and sank to his knees.

The Shocker was back on his feet, and raised his hands. "I always get a charge out of a good fight."

God! Why did all the super powered bad guys have to come up with corny lines like that? The Bone Daddies did, the Damned did, and apparently the boss Outcasts did too. I groaned, furrowing my brow as I tried something of my own. "Oh, shut up!"

Electricity arched wide as my thoughts wrapped around the Shocker's wrists and I yanked him skyward. He wasn't anything close to as big as a two hundred and twenty pound orderly. The Shocker struggled against the invisible restraints I held him in, his feet kicking against the air; the strain was giving me a headache. I'd never had to hold onto something with my psychokinesis that was struggling.

Urioch took full advantage of the confusion. He was precise, efficient, and effective; in less than a minute, the fight was over. Urioch pulled out his Freedom Corps communicator and hit the crime-call button. After we heard the acknowledgement signal, he turned to me with a frown. I didn't like when he frowned at me. "I told you to run."

That pissed me off. I looked up at him and frowned right back. "I'm not a limp wristed fag, Urioch. I've been dealing with assholes like these for years."

His hand came up at my face, and I flinched. Instead of hitting me, he cupped my jaw with his palm and his thumb ran gently under my nose, along my upper lip. His eyes held mine for a moment before they dropped to where his thumb traced. Pulling his hand back, he rubbed the smear of blood between his thumb and forefinger as he let out a soft exhale. "You're eyes look clear, but you gave yourself a nose bleed."

Why the fuck was I short of breath? All he'd done was check if I'd burned out a brain cell or fifty. He must have had some residual energy wicking from his hands because I could still feel a tingle where his palm had pressed against my jaw. Why had I assumed he was going to hit me? Mumbling, I looked away, "Gave myself a headache too, but that isn't anything new."

Incarceration units soared over head and hit the fallen gang members with transit beams. They faded away in a loud hum and crackling of power. Urioch watched the bots fly off, probably on their way to another crime-call, and then looked back at me. "Do you feel well enough to continue to the Cauldron, or would you prefer to return home?"

"Headache won't feel any better at the apartment than at the Cauldron. I'd hate to come all this way for nothing."

"Very practical of you, Jason." Urioch nodded, and continued on our way to the coffee shop. "Fortunately, the Cauldron is close enough to the hospital that, if your discomfort becomes too great, we can get you some medical attention quickly."

"Worry wart," I grunted, rolling my eyes as I fell into step beside him. My legs weren't feeling as stable as my bravado, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Would you prefer I did not care?" He asked in such a neutral, non-judgmental tone that I actually stopped in my tracks.

"Why would you think that?"

Pausing, he turned to look at me again. "I only desire to keep from making you uncomfortable, Jason. The best way to know what someone wants or does not want is to ask."

Fuck. I looked away. He actually thought I wanted him not to care? He was still waiting for an answer when I finally met his eyes. "No... I'm just not used to it."

Nodding, he continued on down the sidewalk. "I will strive not to be unnecessarily concerned, Jason. In return, I ask that you strive to accept the fact that my concern is sincere and do not discount it."

He couldn't be more direct than that. Why the hell was it so hard just to say yes? I shrugged, trying not to look like I gave a shit. "Okay."

I could see the trees and the rise of Gimry Ridge Park when Urioch stopped and gestured to his right. "Ceridwyn's Cauldron."

I looked at the two story building, so similar to those in Atlas or Galaxy, and saw nothing of any interest. It looked like a plain old building to me, no coffee shop or stores worth investigating. I frowned. "Oh, joy."

Urioch looked puzzled by my dry, flat response. "You seem unimpressed."

I snorted. "Well, a nondescript building with no signs, no brightly lit cafe windows with happy customers inside, and no foot traffic isn't very inspiring."

Cocking his head, Urioch moved behind me, crouched down and stared at the building. If I didn't know that he had no sense of humor, I'd have sworn he was trying to pull my leg. But the guy had no sense of humor. None. Zilch. So he definitely wasn't joking. "You can not see it?"

I rolled my eyes. "I see the building just fine, Urioch. There isn't anything there that looks like a coffee shop or book store."

Shaking his head, he stood back up and put his hand on my shoulder. "We will have to determine whether my senses or yours have been deceived." With that, he walked us up to the plain, wooden door and pulled it open. I was surprised that the door was unlocked, but not as surprised as I was when he walked me in ahead of him and the room changed before my eyes. A closed, empty shop dissolved like smoke, and I stood inside a lively, well lit, well patroned coffee shop.

"What the fuck?" I looked about, trying to get my bearings. It was dizzying to have reality shift so quickly.

The man behind the counter looked our way and smiled. "Urioch!" Coming to our end of the counter, he stuck out his hand as we approached. Urioch grasped it. "I was beginning to despair that you'd run out of books to read in my humble shop."

Urioch smiled. "You rotate your stock fairly frequently, Jonathan, but I give many stores my patronage; it is better economics."

Shaking his head, Jonathan let go of Urioch's hand and smiled at me. "I take it you couldn't see the shop."

I blinked. "Uh, yeah."

Sitting down at the counter, Urioch cocked his head at Jonathan. "Would you care to explain that? It does not seem to be a surprise to you."

Jonathan shrugged. "The wards." He looked back at me, raising an eyebrow. "Ex-gang?"

I narrowed my eyes. He wasn't a telepath, or empath, but something about him was hard to read. I could tell he wasn't worried about whether or not I was ex-gang. "Yeah, you could say that." I sat down beside Urioch and tried not to look uncomfortable.

Jonathan just grinned, looking back at Urioch. "New roommate?"

Nodding again, Urioch gestured from me to Jonathan. "Jason Kilroy, meet Jonathan Gaelnym. Jonathan, this is Jason my roommate."

Jonathan extended his hand, and I took it. I felt something cold, almost sinister, before I could get my hand free. Something about it felt very familiar. Scrutinizing me for a moment, he asked, "Empathy?"

I nodded, rubbing my hand on my jeans. My palm itched. "Right again. You must be killer at cards."

Jonathan laughed. "Most empaths react like you did when they first shake my hand." With that, he pulled up his pad; no elaboration, no nothing. "What can I get for you?"

"Double espresso? Cream, no sugar."

He marked his pad. "Anything to eat?"

"Uhm..." I looked around. There wasn't a menu board, but there was a deserts case. I couldn't imagine that mister healthy foods came here just to eat pastries and sugar. "You have sandwiches?"

"Yep."

"BLT, heavy on the bacon and mayo?"

Nodding, he scribbled again and then looked at Urioch. "Your usual?"

Urioch nodded. "Yes, please." Then he looked at me and added. "Jason has a couple books he needs to find for school."

Tucking his pad away, Jonathan looked at me. "Oh?"

Frowning, I pulled out my list. "For training, actually." Handing it over, I waited as Jonathan skimmed the list.

"Ah, the basics. Yes, I have a couple copies of these. New and used."

"Used, please." My budget was already stretched thin. Amanda was a shop-aholic; I was just her enabler.

Gesturing absently, Jonathan held up the paper and something shadowy and translucent materialized and took the list. As the page floated away in a swirl of shadow-smoke, Jonathan smiled. "Your books will probably be back before the food is."

I nodded, not really paying attention to what he said. I watched the shadow-smoke-thing as it glided up the stairs and out of sight. That was probably the freakiest thing I'd ever seen. It took me a moment to realize I'd been staring, and I cast my gaze about uncomfortably. No one paid any attention to the weirdness that just happened. In fact, several of the people in the shop were wearing hero costumes. I looked back at Urioch. "Superhero coffee shop?"

He nodded. "Paragon has numerous businesses that cater to the city's heroes. A few thousand registered heroes in the city, several hundred of whom are full time members of Freedom Corps or employed in the private sector by companies like Hero Corps, is a small but important population with unusual needs. We are a significant subculture."

I shrugged. "Never thought about it."

"The average person does not think about the support systems necessary to attract and maintain a population of paranormal beings. Paragon City is unique, and has developed unique solutions for the challenges we face."

I snorted as Jonathan set our drinks on the counter. "Yeah, like the Paranormal Parole Program."

Jonathan smiled. "I have several friends in that program. Most people didn't choose to become criminals out of some dark desire to harm others. Most became victims of circumstance, or their own sense of helplessness, and simply took the only option they could recognize."

I rolled my eyes. I was so tired of lectures about choices and options. I hadn't had any choices, and I was still stuck in a situation where the options weren't anything but to take the only exit out. "Yeah, what ever. Not much of a choice when your options are Paranormal Prison or Paranormal Parole."

"Someone must think you are something more than you do, Jason. If they didn't, you wouldn't have had the option." Jonathan slid my cup towards me before moving to refill another customer's mug.

"He's right, Jason," Urioch pointed out in his melodic, calm, reasonable voice. He sipped his tea before adding, "Dr. Perrin at least believes that you deserve a chance to become something other than an unfortunate statistic."

I sipped my espresso and tried to still my trembling fingers. I didn't want to sit through more lectures. I'd just survived my first paranormal combat, I was in a shop where the proprietor summoned shadow-things to do his bidding, and I was drinking coffee next to an alien who tossed around bolts of energy as easily as a human could spit. What I wanted was a few moments of quiet solitude to let it all sink in. An empath never had quiet solitude if there was anyone within range of his senses; I had way too many senses.

Torch Song - Chapter 31

2007-01-01T14:28:09Z

Though exhausted from the research with Pars, the conversation with his mother, and giving him vigorously of my need, I could not sleep. Something pulled me from the comfortable warmth and soft serenades of sleeping in Pars's arms. Thrice now I awoke, as if expecting something or someone to be standing over us. Though no one stood at our bed, I could feel a presence; it was someone who could not possibly be in our rooms. I rolled from Pars's embrace, grabbing my hearthstone as I sat up.

Pars jerked awake at my sudden moment, sitting up moments after I had. "Janel?"

I put up my hand to quiet him. The glow at the far side of the room was barely visible to my natural eyes, but in my mind the purple and silver was bright as a bonfire. "Mother..."

On the floor, pawing at a drawer was a small, Aboran squirrel of silver and purple. It looked at the drawer anxiously, as if it expected something or someone to come from the drawer. It took me a moment to see past the squirrel's light and notice the flicker of eternal flame I had given Pars.

Carefully, I slipped from the bed and approached the squirrel. It did not seem to notice me, or simply didn't care as I closed the distance between the bed and the drawers. I knelt down beside the little creature of fire and opened the drawer. I carefully pulled out the flame filled memory sphere, and set it upon the floor before the squirrel. It nosed the sphere a couple times, then curled itself around the sphere and burned out. Left behind was a letter and small wrapping that contained something which flickered with my mother's fire. I carefully picked up the letter and the small wrapped fire, and brought them back to the bed.

"What is it?" Pars asked quietly as I sat back onto the bed.

I illuminated the bed with my hearthstone and picked up the letter. "Something from my mother."

Pars frowned. "That's not possible."

I looked at him. My mind agreed with him, but my heart told me differently. "I know my mother's fire, Pars. That messenger was hers, as is the fire within that," I said, pointing at the little wrapped item on the bed.

Pars's gaze drifted from the letter in my hand to the wrapping and back. "How?"

"I don't know," I whispered, and slowly unfolded the letter. My mother's script flowed across the pages like a cherished memory. I looked at it, my hands trembling so violently that I could not read the words.

Pars stilled my shaking hands, took the page from them, and set it upon the bed. He smoothed it out for me and held up my stone so that the light shone clear upon the paper. I smiled my thanks at him, turned my eyes to the page, and read aloud, my voice shaking nearly as badly as my hands had.

My dearest Janel,

As I write this letter, you are not yet a year old. In your short life you have been witness to so much horror; so much loss. I know now that I can not protect you, even from myself. The nightmares grow ever worse, and I fear one morning I will awaken to find your bed cold and your blood on my hands.

If you are reading this letter, then I know my nightmares have not come true. I also know that I am dead, and that you have called forth the other half of your soul from the Cauldron. You are a torch bearer, ordained by Goddess, and nothing anyone can do will change it.

I can only hope that you have grown to adulthood, that you are safe and that I was able to be the mother I wanted to be for you. If I was not, or could not, then I pray to Goddess you can forgive me for not having the strength to be your mother.

I have this one chance to protect you, to make the voices stop, and to give you a future. I must forget. I must become someone who could never harm you, someone not plagued by her past, someone who can be your mother and nothing else.

Enclosed with this letter is a shard of my hearthstone, a piece of my soul. Within it lies my last gift to you; your past. I can not know if you even wish to know who or what I was. The shard will respond only to your fire, whole and fully alight from ordination. There will be only enough of my fire for the memory I placed within the shard to come alight once. After that, the shard will be as dead as my hearthstone, and myself.

Please know that I love you. You are my light. You are my life.

Your mother,

Eutrose Sharimel

I stared at the letter. What did she mean; shard of her hearthstone? I looked at Pars. "Hearthstones can not be broken."

He nodded.

I slowly unwrapped the shard, and looked at a small sliver of amethyst with a flicker of silver and purple fire within. It was not a piece of the old crone; it was nothing like her at all. It seemed so familiar to me, as if I'd known it or held it before. I ran my finger along the shard, tracing it for its full digit length. I knew it.

"Janel?"

I pulled off Lorin's pendant.

Pars put his hand over mind, keeping me from letting go of the chain. "Janel, don't."

I closed my eyes and let my gaze turn in the direction of Iragalys. Her fire burned steady and low in her bed. "Your mother is asleep."

"You don't know what will happen."

I looked at him, slowly pulling my hand from his, and set Larin's pendant on the sheets. "If I let that stop me, I would not be here, with you, in this bed. This is of my mother, Pars."

He took a slow deep breath.

"If you had one last chance to have anything of Tom, would you not take it?"

He frowned, chewed on his lower lip, and then nodded. He watched with worried expression as I picked up the shard.

Holding my hearthstone in my right hand, and my mother's shard in the left, I closed my eyes and carefully pulled my fire up. I kept it small, and contained, and poured it into the shard. The shard erupted in fire, drawing it from me like parched earth needing the rain. I could no more stop it than I could stop my heart from beating.

The fire flowed from me through the shard, and built into a blaze of purple and silver light. The light floated up, burning and shifting as it moved off the bed and came to float several feet off the floor. The fire blazed, elongating and changing, until a young, beautiful woman stood before us, not much older than I, a woman with dark hair, fair skin, and my eyes.

The torch fire apparition took a slow breath, as if someone awakened from a long sleep, and she looked at me. Her lips curled into a soft, happy smile. "Janel," she whispered, and lifted her hand. I held still as she touched my cheek, and then my brow, before looking squarely at me again. "You have your father's nose."

I smiled, tears building at the edges of my eyes. "Mother..."

"You've grown into a beautiful," she paused, looking a bit confused, "woman..."

I realized that the apparition before me was not of the woman who raised me, the woman who had died as I held her hand, but the woman who had given birth to me. She had no knowledge of whom I had become or why. "You feared if others knew, I would be killed," I explained.

She sighed, relief replacing her confusion, "I can see I would do that." She looked at me. "Was I a good mother, Janel?"

I blinked away my tears. "You were everything," I whispered, too afraid that she might vanish to move. I wanted so desperately to touch her.

She smiled, and then wavered as a candle flame would in the breeze. Her expression turned sad, and possibly a bit tired. "There is too much for me to tell you, too much you need to know, for me to convey it through this flicker of who I was. I hope you were never in doubt that I love you more than life, Janel."

I shook my head, my vision burring with tears. "I was always in your love," I choked. I stretched out my hand, and her fingers intermingled with mine.

"Remember, Janel," she whispered, her body dissolving into sparkling mist. "Remember and learn."

My mother's memory, her apparition, flowed into me. My mind went alight with silver and purple fire, and then it all went black.

"Dear Goddess," my mother gasped, fear gripping at her heart as she looked at the figure in the doorway. The woman looked like an older, harsher version of her; she glared at my mother from behind an outstretched hand. In that hand was a beacon with silver and purple fire in it. The silver chain and crevices of the fastenings were encrusted in dark, dried blood.

"You hid your fire well Sharimel; but you are not the only one who knows how to do so, and you forgot something." The woman gripped the stone and her indigo fire erupted around her hand. She opened it again, turning her palm down, and sprinkled the remains of the beacon on the floor of the hut.

Mother clutched me to her chest, pulling her hearthstone pendant from her shirt. "What have you done? Where is Mycos?"

"The remains of that breeder of abominations is somewhere on the trails," the woman grumbled quietly, as if talking of it was distasteful. "There is enough left of him to feed some hungry animal in this forsaken place. Once I was close enough to see the light of that abomination, he was no longer useful." She looked at my mother with loathing in her eyes. "How could you do this? Suffer not a man to bear torch fire. You have sinned against Her!"

Mother's fire rose, engulfing us. Her eyes burned like silver stars as tears slowly slipped down her cheeks. "You murdered him."

The woman's indigo fire rose, dark and angry. "I do Her will, child. Do not stand against Her. I do not wish to harm my own flesh."

"This is your own flesh, Mother," my mother yelled, clutching me tighter, "he is your grandson!"

"Abomination," my grandmother screamed back, throwing her fire at us.

Mother's fire deflected my grandmother's blaze. "You can not have him," mother swore, her eyes burning more brightly.

"Do not be a fool, Sharimel. You can not thwart Her will." Grandmother's fire filled the room like a flood, squeezing out all light but that of her power.

The silver and purple island of safety shrank as the moments passed, and some of the indigo fire sank through. Mother's fire shifted, surrounding me more brightly, but leaving her mostly vulnerable. The indigo fire burned her hair and began to blister her flesh, but her hearthstone and I blazed pure.

"Don't make me destroy you!" my grandmother yelled over the roar of the flames. "Let the beast die, Sharimel. Return to Goddess's light!"

Mother kissed my forehead, and then broke the chain of her hearthstone, gripping the crystal in her left hand as she leveled her gaze at the woman who bore her. "I will die before your fires touch him," she spat.

"Then die, and take that thing with you!"

Grandmother's fire sank into my mother, and she doubled over. Mother's tears turned red, dripping upon me as her flesh burned. "I love you, Janel." She curled around me and sank to the floor, her breath going still and her arms stiff.

The woman who had brought her into the world sagged against the doorframe, her fire fading to a glow. With a howl, she lurched forward, crouching down over my mother's body. "Die you monster, how dare you take her from me and live!"

Grandmother's fire rose, ready to smite me. With but my baby's hand, I touched the death gripped hearthstone that I knew was my mother's soul. My fire slipped into it, as if inhaled by the stone the way a sputtering candle craved the air. My mother's hearthstone flared, silver and purple light erupting like a new born star. Mother's fire returned to her, and she gasped, life filling the wrecked remains of her body. She swung the hearthstone up, point first, and plunged it into Grandmother's chest. "No other's fire will touch him," my mother hissed.

Grandmother staggered back as my mother's torch fire burned from the hearthstone into the woman's veins like a flame feeding on oil. She screamed; clutching at her chest as the fire erupted from her mouth.

My mother shifted to her side, one arm still holding me to her, as she watched her mother burn. "May Goddess forgive me," she whispered and clutched her fist in the air before her.

Her hearthstone flared and exploded in a thunderous crack, bathing the room in blood and flame.

I convulsed on the bed, gasping for air as I choked on my own saliva. Pars held me in place, trying to keep me from falling from the bed. He held Larin's eternal flame pendant in his hand as he restrained me and I was again cloaked by my friend's love and light.

"Janel!" He captured my gaze with his eyes. "Stay with me, Janel."

I coughed up saliva, and then bile. He let me roll to my side, keeping me from slipping to the floor, and I retched again. As the convulsions eased, I allowed Pars to pull me to him and cradle me as I trembled. I clutched to him, and wept.

He held me gently, rubbing my back until my weeping dissolved into whimpers and tears. He kissed my hair, and my forehead, and stroked my cheek. "Janel?"

I nodded into his chest. "I know," I whispered, "I know what happened." I lifted my head to look into his beautiful, loving green eyes. They were my anchors. I knew that so long as I had him, I could live through anything. "My grandmother found us. She murdered my father for the sin of siring me. She tried to kill me." I blinked away the tears and struggled to keep my voice. "Mother stopped her... she killed her... she sacrificed her hearthstone to save me."

There was more, so much more, but I couldn't wrap my thoughts around the knowledge that was burned into my brain. It wasn't just memories, but pure knowledge. My mother's talents, her skills, the spells and enchantments she had known, were mine. It was like the whispers from the old crone, the voices that had driven me to the brink of oblivion, but these whispers told me to live, told me to fight, told me that above all else, I had to survive. All her love, her determination, her courage, and her strength whispered to me as I lay my head upon Pars's chest and closed my eyes.

My life was a fractured reflection of half truths and illusions. As I sank into exhaustion, holding onto the man who was my life, I prayed that some day I would be whole again. I prayed some day I would just be Janel.

"You need to take a break," Pars insisted, putting his hand over the scroll I was studying.

"Pot calling kettle black," I grumbled, shoving his hand aside.

"Janel," Pars insisted, blocking my view of the scroll again, "you've been here for nearly forty hours in the last two days." He leaned in close, matching his frown to my scowl, and whispered, "you haven't even done your rituals. If you don't get some rest soon, it's going to show."

I wanted to tell him I could take care of myself, but that in itself had become my warning sign. If what I wanted more than anything was to yell about my ability to do it all myself, then it was time to admit I couldn't. I knew I was obsessing, but since receiving my mother's final gift something in her memories plagued me. No, much of what I found in her memories disturbed me, but there was something I couldn't quite grasp that drove me to find it. The core reason, the why my mother had fled the Matrians. The reason my father was killed. The reason my grandmother was so determined to destroy me. That knowledge wasn't just hidden in my head, it was in the scrolls. One symbol stood out in my mother's memories from a time when she too had searched the life light library for answers, and that symbol was everywhere.

I looked at Pars, imploring him to understand. "I have to find the answer."

His sad smile conveyed as much as the softness in his green eyes. "I know; but what good does it do to drive yourself like this? Maybe if you get a night's rest the answer will be waiting."

"Let me finish this scroll," I acquiesced, knowing I would not win this argument. "Close up the rest of it?" I asked, nodding at the chaos of the table.

"Okay," Pars replied, kissing my forehead before allowing me return to my scroll. I tallied up the numbers, my stomach sick from more than lack of food. I needed some air, and time to think; the idea forming in my mind was impossible, but I'd come to learn recently that the impossible wasn't so difficult to achieve.

I rode home mulling over my sleep deprived thoughts and the horrible truth that seemed to wait to be illuminated. How could it be illuminated? No fire was bright enough to pierce the darkness that surrounded it; no one would believe.

I snapped out of my internal wrestling when Pars spoke to me a second time, "Janel."

I looked at him. "What?"

"You're talking to yourself."

"Was I?" That was something new; or at least I thought it was.

He nodded, maneuvering his horse closer as we rode through the gates to Firestoke. "Yes, and you didn't sound like you were winning the argument."

I grinned at the ridiculousness of his observation. "It isn't a good sign when you start losing arguments with yourself."

Pars frowned. "No, no it isn't."

We dismounted, handing the reins to the stable hands before we walked towards the house. I looked ahead and frowned, there were multiple torchbearers within the house. Pars's family had arrived.

"Oh Goddess," I moaned, stopping in my tracks.

"What?"

"Your aunt, and kin, are inside," I explained, feeling even more sick than I had in the tower. I was not up to an evening of social obligation; sleep deprived, hungry, and heart sore, was not the right situation to face a group of people.

Pars took my hand. "Let's go to the garden."

"It isn't like they can't see me as well," I snorted, letting him lead me.

"I know," he explained, pushing open the side gate, "but maybe we can buy a little time to collect ourselves this way."

"Easy for you," I replied, walking through ahead of him, "a fresh shirt, a quick brushing of your hair, and you'll be fine."

"I am not fine when you are this ill at ease," he commented, laying his hand upon my shoulder, "and it is not my relatives that have made you thus."

I turned away, walking further into the gardens. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I think you'd better," he pushed, keeping close to me as I skirted the topic.

"Pars…"

He stopped me, and turned me around. "You insisted no more secrets; no more lies. How can I help if you won't let me in?"

I looked aside, not able to bear the worry in his eyes. "You don't need the burden."

He hooked his finger under my chin and pulled my gaze back to him. "I have broad shoulders; burden me."

I chewed on my lower lip, trying to figure out how to say what I believed. "You know the symbol so often used in infant death; the ember symbol?"

Pars nodded. "Something about being born with a spark too weak to take light."

"It happens almost exclusively to boys." There, I said it.

Pars blinked. "That doesn't make sense; are men's soul fires that much weaker than women's?"

"No," I insisted, "they aren't." I pulled from his grip and moved to the fountain. It was no surprise to me that we somehow stopped here to have this discussion. "I don't think they were weak at all."

Pars frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think they were snuffed out." I looked at my hands. "I don't have any proof, but I just can't shake the feeling that the numbers are too skewed to say otherwise. Of every hundred such infant deaths, only ten or so are female children; and of those, most were twins of the male baby that died." I looked back at Pars. "I could be wrong. I could be making all this up out of some deluded sense of paranoia."

Pars looked at me. "What does your heart say?"

I couldn't keep the tears from slipping down my cheeks as I look up at him. "My heart weeps, Pars. My mother knew. She knew and she could do nothing to stop it. I think it drove her as far from Cradalym as she could get."

Pars knelt down, taking my hands. "Then as soon as all this is over; once we have fulfilled our obligation, we'll leave as well."

I laughed, wiping away my tears, and shook my head. "It didn't work last time. Running doesn't solve anything."

"No," Pars agreed, rubbing his thumb across my cheek as he cupped my face, "but it may give us some time."

I nodded. "We could leave with Pel. She'll be here for the wedding."

"The longer we travel with her, the more the chance she'll figure it out," Pars warned.

"She already knows," I mumbled, looking at the water, "I'm sure of it."

Pars pulled my gaze back to him. "How?"

"The soulblaze, when I kept her from death. I could see her as she was, her soul, not just the face she presents the world. I didn't think about it at the time, but I could not have hidden my soul from her." I stroked his jaw with my finger. "She tried to talk to me about it; tried to get me to tell her what she knew but couldn't quite believe. I know her soul, Pars; she won't expose me."

Pars frowned. "Janel, what about Hadral… she was there too."

I opened my mouth, and then closed it, looking to our right. Lord Trendal came around the corner, the flicker from his beacon having warned me of his approach.

"Are you quite alright, Janel," he asked as he walked to us, "Iragalys sent me to inquire after you."

I nodded, rising from my spot. "Simply tired, Lord Trendal. We have spent more time in the library than at home these last few days."

"You should take time to collect yourselves," Trendal advised. "Haggard before a wedding is understandable, but you both look thread bare."

I nodded. "Will you extend our apologies, Lord Trendal, and let the family know we will greet them properly once we have had time to wash and change?"

"Of course," he replied, looking back towards the house. "I assume you remember that you both have final fittings tomorrow."

Pars groaned, rising to stand beside me; I stifled my own response and forced a smile. "It will be a good break from my research." Any distraction from the awful truth, even something as frivolous as clothes, was welcome.

Trendal nodded, encouraging us to begin our way back to the house. "I fear your research may need to wait for the next week. Between the final details and obligations to meet with guests and relations, you both will need your wits about you." He smiled apologetically. "Even joyous occasions like these require a bit of fortitude. Ample sleep and attention to detail is the best course for the next few days."

"What was your wedding like?" I asked Trendal as I took Pars's arm.

Trendal smiled. "Glorious; but Iragalys was worn out trying to keep me from having a nervous breakdown." He looked at Pars. "I wanted everything perfect. I have mellowed in my old age."

Pars rolled his eyes. "I could live with a little imperfection at this point."

Trendal smiled. "Go freshen up and put on your best smiles; your relatives have come a long way to be witness here."

"Another command performance," Pars sighed.

"A genuine smile would suffice," Trendal insisted. "Your cousin will perform grandly enough for us all to be sure."

Pars groaned, "Laromind is here?"

I cringed.

"Indeed," Trendal replied, rolling his eyes, "and with all his plumage preened and proper."

We excused ourselves and retreated quietly to the back stairs. Facing the rest of the night would require fortitude I was not sure I had.