Friday, October 30, 2009
Jack Matthias set aside the report, and rubbed his eyes through his glasses. It was impossible, but there it was.
Finally, he got the report from the Isles. His brother had not gone down without a fight. They found blood under his nails. They did a DNA test, and ran it against known criminals in the Isles. It didn’t show up. Then they ran it against known heroes. They had a match.
A fellow named Masonry, who had died a year ago. However, he was allegedly alive and well and operating in the Isles.
Then, just a week ago, he received a text message from Trip saying that the data base had been updated and maybe everyone should be aware of something. Jack read about the new members of Safe Havens, and what they were doing there. He read the dossiers of the members, and decided that he should meet them sometime. Especially one.
Bladeless, who had just recently admitted that he was the long-dead Masonry.
This is the report he put aside. Did they know? Trip must have known. Trip could have stopped it, but she was of the belief that anyone who applied to Havens must have a good reason, and should be accepted for what they were. Masonry had been a member before. It was okay to welcome him back.
Jack went to his locker, and pulled out his suit. He would wait.
Bladeless came down dressed in casual clothes. Jack was in the TV room, which had a good vantage point of the entrance. Bladeless waved to Jack, heading toward the lockers. “Stop right there,” Jack said.
Bladeless stopped, turned around slowly. “Everything all right?”
“No, everything is not all right.” Jack felt his suit hum, and knew that Bladeless would hear it. “I know who you are.”
Bladeless said, “I’ve made no secret about it.”
“You don’t belong here. You belong with those murderers that those people are running from.”
“Can’t you believe I’m trying to change? I want to be a hero again.”
Jack didn’t want to hear it. He reached out with his hand, and invaded Bladeless’ mind. Bladeless stumbled, and something came up to block him, a wall of nothingness. Jack pushed. Bladeless fell against the wall.
Jack shoved, and got through the blackness, and saw the horrible things Masonry had done. He had a total disregard for people. Jack saw his brother’s death, and felt the lack of feeling that Masonry did. Jack almost tore out his mind right then and there.
Then he saw the passion, the love he was capable of feeling. He saw Masonry’s loss of intelligence, what he had gone through himself. Jack couldn’t excuse Masonry of what he had done. However, he couldn’t kill him out of hand. Jack was a hero, not a murderer.
Jack weighed the pros and the cons. According to Bladeless, he couldn’t die. But he could suffer. Jack went over to Bladeless, lying on the floor, stunned. He touched Bladeless’ third eye with his thumb. Jack knew he’d be incapacitated after this, but it would simply satisfy his thirst for vengeance.
“This is going to hurt,” he muttered. “Not as much as you’ve hurt me.”
And he started to tear Bladeless’ mind apart.
Finally, he got the report from the Isles. His brother had not gone down without a fight. They found blood under his nails. They did a DNA test, and ran it against known criminals in the Isles. It didn’t show up. Then they ran it against known heroes. They had a match.
A fellow named Masonry, who had died a year ago. However, he was allegedly alive and well and operating in the Isles.
Then, just a week ago, he received a text message from Trip saying that the data base had been updated and maybe everyone should be aware of something. Jack read about the new members of Safe Havens, and what they were doing there. He read the dossiers of the members, and decided that he should meet them sometime. Especially one.
Bladeless, who had just recently admitted that he was the long-dead Masonry.
This is the report he put aside. Did they know? Trip must have known. Trip could have stopped it, but she was of the belief that anyone who applied to Havens must have a good reason, and should be accepted for what they were. Masonry had been a member before. It was okay to welcome him back.
Jack went to his locker, and pulled out his suit. He would wait.
Bladeless came down dressed in casual clothes. Jack was in the TV room, which had a good vantage point of the entrance. Bladeless waved to Jack, heading toward the lockers. “Stop right there,” Jack said.
Bladeless stopped, turned around slowly. “Everything all right?”
“No, everything is not all right.” Jack felt his suit hum, and knew that Bladeless would hear it. “I know who you are.”
Bladeless said, “I’ve made no secret about it.”
“You don’t belong here. You belong with those murderers that those people are running from.”
“Can’t you believe I’m trying to change? I want to be a hero again.”
Jack didn’t want to hear it. He reached out with his hand, and invaded Bladeless’ mind. Bladeless stumbled, and something came up to block him, a wall of nothingness. Jack pushed. Bladeless fell against the wall.
Jack shoved, and got through the blackness, and saw the horrible things Masonry had done. He had a total disregard for people. Jack saw his brother’s death, and felt the lack of feeling that Masonry did. Jack almost tore out his mind right then and there.
Then he saw the passion, the love he was capable of feeling. He saw Masonry’s loss of intelligence, what he had gone through himself. Jack couldn’t excuse Masonry of what he had done. However, he couldn’t kill him out of hand. Jack was a hero, not a murderer.
Jack weighed the pros and the cons. According to Bladeless, he couldn’t die. But he could suffer. Jack went over to Bladeless, lying on the floor, stunned. He touched Bladeless’ third eye with his thumb. Jack knew he’d be incapacitated after this, but it would simply satisfy his thirst for vengeance.
“This is going to hurt,” he muttered. “Not as much as you’ve hurt me.”
And he started to tear Bladeless’ mind apart.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Bladeless stood outside of the magic room, looking into it. The room simply hummed with power and magic. It gave him goose pimples.
Going against his gut feeling, he entered the room. In the center of the room was a sphere, hanging impossibly in midair. There were obelisks and a few chests scattered around the room. The chests had no locks on them, but he really didn’t want to open them up to see what was in there.
There was a recessed area, where it looked like a circle had been crudely etched in the stone. He stepped inside.
A column of dark fire shot up and surrounded him. He jumped back from it – it hissed and seethed around him. He cautiously approached it, and put his hand through it. It went around his hand like water, and started crawling up his arm. It changed into something that looked like a black salamander, with glowing green eyes.
He cried out, yanked his arm back and shook the thing off. It fell to the floor, and started crawling to him. He stomped on it, and it exploded in what looked like dark blue goo that got all over his boot.
“Well, at least that ward works.”
Bladeless looked up to see Grim in the doorway of the room. “Grim, how do I get out of here?”
“Curious about magic, Mase?” He started walking around the room. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Bladeless watched Grim through the curtain of black fire, unsure of what he was going to do.
Grim continued talking, “It seems the rest of the wards work.” He motioned to the walls around him. “There’s markings everywhere, markings warning those who carry any malevolence toward me or this group, that they would be struck down by confusion at the very least, or white fire that would cling to them and eat away at their bodies and souls at the very worst. Obviously you passed.”
“I don’t have anything against you, Grim.”
“Of course not. I was a good fuck, after all.”
“Grim, I’m different now.”
“Are you?” He pointed to the dark fire. “You created that. That circle is neutral: black, white, grey, hedge, ceremonial magic all work there. You activated the black magic around you by merely entering.” He jumped up on one of the obelisks and sat down, dangling his legs off the side. “Now, what gets me is how.” He summoned up a ball of light. “I wonder…” He threw it at the dark fire. It exploded in a shower of sparks, white and black. “Interesting.”
“What?”
He jumped off the obelisk. “Why don’t you just step out of it?”
Bladeless took a step through the dark fire. It felt cold, but nothing he couldn’t get used to. He came out of the circle, and the dark fire receded. He looked down at himself to see little black things, like leeches, attached to him.
Then Grim raised his hands, a huge ball of white light in the center. He threw it at Bladeless. Bladeless had no where to go, and the white light hit him square in the chest. The white surrounded him, like an aura. The leeches burned and fell off, disappearing into the brightness of the light.
“Neat trick, Gr—“
Another ball of white light headed his way. This time he had the sense to move, but he still got hit in the back by it. Again, it encompassed him; this time it seemed to stick to him. He smelled something burning, and realized it was his hair.
He put his hands on his head, but took them away. His gloves began to smoke, starting up a scent of burning leather. He looked at Grim, and saw another volley of white light come at him. Bladeless backed up, but suddenly the stone turned to mud, and he was stuck, surrounded by a white fiery circle. His armor started to melt, his mask burned away.
“Grim! What’re you doing?!”
Grim coldly tossed another ball, hitting Bladeless in the face with it. Bladeless howled in pain as the whiteness started eating away at his skin. He fell face-first into the fiery circle, his entire body now encased in angry white flames.
Grim stopped, looking down at the body, waiting for the whiteness to dissipate. The smell of burning flesh was almost overpowering. Then, as he watched, a layer of blackness encompassed the body, forming a barrier between the white light and the body. The blackness grew darker, almost like ink, and the whiteness winked out.
“Grim?” came a voice behind him.
Grim didn’t even turn around to see Rusty in the doorway. He was standing over the body, watching the pool of darkness. It moved a little, then the figure of a body sat up.
“Grim,” said a rough voice that sounded like it was coming from the depths of hell, “that hurt.”
“Good,” Grim said, turned his back on him, and walked past Rusty, out of the room.
Going against his gut feeling, he entered the room. In the center of the room was a sphere, hanging impossibly in midair. There were obelisks and a few chests scattered around the room. The chests had no locks on them, but he really didn’t want to open them up to see what was in there.
There was a recessed area, where it looked like a circle had been crudely etched in the stone. He stepped inside.
A column of dark fire shot up and surrounded him. He jumped back from it – it hissed and seethed around him. He cautiously approached it, and put his hand through it. It went around his hand like water, and started crawling up his arm. It changed into something that looked like a black salamander, with glowing green eyes.
He cried out, yanked his arm back and shook the thing off. It fell to the floor, and started crawling to him. He stomped on it, and it exploded in what looked like dark blue goo that got all over his boot.
“Well, at least that ward works.”
Bladeless looked up to see Grim in the doorway of the room. “Grim, how do I get out of here?”
“Curious about magic, Mase?” He started walking around the room. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Bladeless watched Grim through the curtain of black fire, unsure of what he was going to do.
Grim continued talking, “It seems the rest of the wards work.” He motioned to the walls around him. “There’s markings everywhere, markings warning those who carry any malevolence toward me or this group, that they would be struck down by confusion at the very least, or white fire that would cling to them and eat away at their bodies and souls at the very worst. Obviously you passed.”
“I don’t have anything against you, Grim.”
“Of course not. I was a good fuck, after all.”
“Grim, I’m different now.”
“Are you?” He pointed to the dark fire. “You created that. That circle is neutral: black, white, grey, hedge, ceremonial magic all work there. You activated the black magic around you by merely entering.” He jumped up on one of the obelisks and sat down, dangling his legs off the side. “Now, what gets me is how.” He summoned up a ball of light. “I wonder…” He threw it at the dark fire. It exploded in a shower of sparks, white and black. “Interesting.”
“What?”
He jumped off the obelisk. “Why don’t you just step out of it?”
Bladeless took a step through the dark fire. It felt cold, but nothing he couldn’t get used to. He came out of the circle, and the dark fire receded. He looked down at himself to see little black things, like leeches, attached to him.
Then Grim raised his hands, a huge ball of white light in the center. He threw it at Bladeless. Bladeless had no where to go, and the white light hit him square in the chest. The white surrounded him, like an aura. The leeches burned and fell off, disappearing into the brightness of the light.
“Neat trick, Gr—“
Another ball of white light headed his way. This time he had the sense to move, but he still got hit in the back by it. Again, it encompassed him; this time it seemed to stick to him. He smelled something burning, and realized it was his hair.
He put his hands on his head, but took them away. His gloves began to smoke, starting up a scent of burning leather. He looked at Grim, and saw another volley of white light come at him. Bladeless backed up, but suddenly the stone turned to mud, and he was stuck, surrounded by a white fiery circle. His armor started to melt, his mask burned away.
“Grim! What’re you doing?!”
Grim coldly tossed another ball, hitting Bladeless in the face with it. Bladeless howled in pain as the whiteness started eating away at his skin. He fell face-first into the fiery circle, his entire body now encased in angry white flames.
Grim stopped, looking down at the body, waiting for the whiteness to dissipate. The smell of burning flesh was almost overpowering. Then, as he watched, a layer of blackness encompassed the body, forming a barrier between the white light and the body. The blackness grew darker, almost like ink, and the whiteness winked out.
“Grim?” came a voice behind him.
Grim didn’t even turn around to see Rusty in the doorway. He was standing over the body, watching the pool of darkness. It moved a little, then the figure of a body sat up.
“Grim,” said a rough voice that sounded like it was coming from the depths of hell, “that hurt.”
“Good,” Grim said, turned his back on him, and walked past Rusty, out of the room.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Grimaulkin took off his shirt and shoes, and left them at the door. In his arms were the items that everyone gave him, items with their essences. In the old days, he would make a fetish with them, something to control them. For some reason, though, he didn’t even have the desire to do something like that – he wanted to help them.
Grim entered the circle barefoot and shirtless. Rusty had kindly marked it out on the floor for him. This was serious conjuring, and he no longer had his robes, so he had to work minimally. Normally, he would have worked skyclad, but he never knew who might come into this more public place.
Grim set the items down, and pulled out his silver athame. First, he called the quarters. Then he re-etched the circle in the floor, making it stronger. Grim could see the white glow of the circle, something he hadn’t seen before. He would make things stronger soon, by carving into the stone symbols of magic. Unfortunately, most of the symbols he knew were for dark magic, so he needed to look up more symbols for white magic.
Grim heard a sound and looked up to see Kalius at the door. “Hi,” he called.
“I’m here to help,” Kalius said.
“But I already cast the circle. You can’t come in.”
Kalius walked forward, and his foot touched the edge of the circle. Then he stepped over it. The circle only wavered, parted to let him in, then closed up behind him. Grim stared in amazement at him. Kalius only smiled. Grim started to smile. “Okay, let’s get to it.”
Grim turned to the items on the floor and knelt before them. Kalius knelt beside him. Grim picked up Kalius’ item first. He concentrated, pulling his energy up and directing it into the athame. He envisioned the power that he had, a pure white light, and envisioned it in the point of the athame. He drew a symbol on the item, a combination symbol of protection and power of his own creation, so it had his power in it, and no one else’s. Although the item would show nothing to the naked eye because the silver knife was not edged, to someone with magical sight they would see the symbol glowing white.
He held the item, and envisioned power in it. Then he felt Kalius put a hand on his shoulder. Grim felt him open himself up to him, to be able to use his own power of the gods. He didn’t need it right now, but by the end of the ritual, he might.
He placed the item down and turned to Mind’s. He did the same, etched the symbol on it, poured power in, and placed it down. He did the same to Rusty’s. He turned to Raina’s.
Raina’s was already glowing gold, showing its magic in the circle. Grim took some power from Kalius and got high for a minute. He reached for the item, and held it in his hands. I use white magic, he thought. It helps, not hurts. Do not break the spell on this, but help it. He drew the symbol, and it glowed white like the others, but was layered on top of the gold glow. Then, even as he watched, the white symbol began to glow a brighter gold. He smiled, set the item down.
Next, he raised his arms and hands over the items as if in benediction. He envisioned the Word they would use, and the short ritual they would perform, either with their will or in their actions. He knew Kalius, Mind, and Raina would be able to perform it by will, and he felt that Rusty could do it with his telekinesis. The protection part of the symbol would ensure that no dark magic would find its way in the spell.
He looked down at the items, and the symbol and item glowed, each a different color. Kalius’s symbol was white on a creamy ecru, Raina was bright gold on gold, Mind was bright blue on dark blue and Rusty was bright green on dark green. His power had combined with their essences. The ritual was complete.
He glanced back at Kalius and nodded. Kalius released Grim, and Grim thrummed with power. He got up with his athame and walked around the circle, taking its power within the athame and into himself. Then he thanked the quarters – no longer banishing them as he used to – and the room filled with a sweet smell of growing grass. Grim knelt and put his palms to the floor, and the energy flowed gently out of him, so he could ground himself.
“How was it?” Kalius asked, getting up from his kneeling position.
He looked at the items. No longer in the magic of the circle, they looked normal, without even a scratch.
“I think they’re cooked.”
Grim entered the circle barefoot and shirtless. Rusty had kindly marked it out on the floor for him. This was serious conjuring, and he no longer had his robes, so he had to work minimally. Normally, he would have worked skyclad, but he never knew who might come into this more public place.
Grim set the items down, and pulled out his silver athame. First, he called the quarters. Then he re-etched the circle in the floor, making it stronger. Grim could see the white glow of the circle, something he hadn’t seen before. He would make things stronger soon, by carving into the stone symbols of magic. Unfortunately, most of the symbols he knew were for dark magic, so he needed to look up more symbols for white magic.
Grim heard a sound and looked up to see Kalius at the door. “Hi,” he called.
“I’m here to help,” Kalius said.
“But I already cast the circle. You can’t come in.”
Kalius walked forward, and his foot touched the edge of the circle. Then he stepped over it. The circle only wavered, parted to let him in, then closed up behind him. Grim stared in amazement at him. Kalius only smiled. Grim started to smile. “Okay, let’s get to it.”
Grim turned to the items on the floor and knelt before them. Kalius knelt beside him. Grim picked up Kalius’ item first. He concentrated, pulling his energy up and directing it into the athame. He envisioned the power that he had, a pure white light, and envisioned it in the point of the athame. He drew a symbol on the item, a combination symbol of protection and power of his own creation, so it had his power in it, and no one else’s. Although the item would show nothing to the naked eye because the silver knife was not edged, to someone with magical sight they would see the symbol glowing white.
He held the item, and envisioned power in it. Then he felt Kalius put a hand on his shoulder. Grim felt him open himself up to him, to be able to use his own power of the gods. He didn’t need it right now, but by the end of the ritual, he might.
He placed the item down and turned to Mind’s. He did the same, etched the symbol on it, poured power in, and placed it down. He did the same to Rusty’s. He turned to Raina’s.
Raina’s was already glowing gold, showing its magic in the circle. Grim took some power from Kalius and got high for a minute. He reached for the item, and held it in his hands. I use white magic, he thought. It helps, not hurts. Do not break the spell on this, but help it. He drew the symbol, and it glowed white like the others, but was layered on top of the gold glow. Then, even as he watched, the white symbol began to glow a brighter gold. He smiled, set the item down.
Next, he raised his arms and hands over the items as if in benediction. He envisioned the Word they would use, and the short ritual they would perform, either with their will or in their actions. He knew Kalius, Mind, and Raina would be able to perform it by will, and he felt that Rusty could do it with his telekinesis. The protection part of the symbol would ensure that no dark magic would find its way in the spell.
He looked down at the items, and the symbol and item glowed, each a different color. Kalius’s symbol was white on a creamy ecru, Raina was bright gold on gold, Mind was bright blue on dark blue and Rusty was bright green on dark green. His power had combined with their essences. The ritual was complete.
He glanced back at Kalius and nodded. Kalius released Grim, and Grim thrummed with power. He got up with his athame and walked around the circle, taking its power within the athame and into himself. Then he thanked the quarters – no longer banishing them as he used to – and the room filled with a sweet smell of growing grass. Grim knelt and put his palms to the floor, and the energy flowed gently out of him, so he could ground himself.
“How was it?” Kalius asked, getting up from his kneeling position.
He looked at the items. No longer in the magic of the circle, they looked normal, without even a scratch.
“I think they’re cooked.”
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Pyroblades regarded the blond man in a black trenchcoat standing at his table in the Pocket D. “How do I know you’re Grimaulkin?”
“Step outside and I’ll show you,” said the blond.
Pyroblades took a long drag on his cigarette and blew it out slowly. “Don’t think so.”
The blond sighed. He fished around in his coat and came up with something that looked like a small stick. He tossed it on the table. Pyroblades looked at it; it was a finger bone.
“What happened to you?” he asked, as he shoved the chair next to him open with his foot. “You’re not black.”
Grim took the seat. “I’ve been Redeemed.”
“Got baptized by a holy roller?”
“Baptized by fire.”
He took another drag. “Let’s not get into religion, huh? People kill each over lesser things.”
“That’s what I’m here about.”
Pyroblades had no eyebrow to raise, but his brow twitched. “About that vamp lady?”
“Yes. Don’t kill her.”
“Gonna need more money to make that kind of decision.”
Grim pulled out an envelope from his coat and put it on the table. “There’s a thousand in there to make you forget.”
Pyroblades picked up the envelope and peeked in it. “What about the little girl you hooked me up with?”
“Let’s forget about her, too. Do you need more for that?”
Pyroblades stuffed the envelope in his jacket. “Nah, I’ll let it go as a favor. Why the change of heart?”
Grim got up. “Just forget about her.”
“Forget about who?”
Grim nodded. “Good. Be seeing you.” He turned away from the table.
“Hey, forgot your finger.”
“Don’t need it anymore,” he said, without looking back. Pyroblades picked it up and twirled it absently on the table. It kept pointing to the door whenever it stopped.
“Step outside and I’ll show you,” said the blond.
Pyroblades took a long drag on his cigarette and blew it out slowly. “Don’t think so.”
The blond sighed. He fished around in his coat and came up with something that looked like a small stick. He tossed it on the table. Pyroblades looked at it; it was a finger bone.
“What happened to you?” he asked, as he shoved the chair next to him open with his foot. “You’re not black.”
Grim took the seat. “I’ve been Redeemed.”
“Got baptized by a holy roller?”
“Baptized by fire.”
He took another drag. “Let’s not get into religion, huh? People kill each over lesser things.”
“That’s what I’m here about.”
Pyroblades had no eyebrow to raise, but his brow twitched. “About that vamp lady?”
“Yes. Don’t kill her.”
“Gonna need more money to make that kind of decision.”
Grim pulled out an envelope from his coat and put it on the table. “There’s a thousand in there to make you forget.”
Pyroblades picked up the envelope and peeked in it. “What about the little girl you hooked me up with?”
“Let’s forget about her, too. Do you need more for that?”
Pyroblades stuffed the envelope in his jacket. “Nah, I’ll let it go as a favor. Why the change of heart?”
Grim got up. “Just forget about her.”
“Forget about who?”
Grim nodded. “Good. Be seeing you.” He turned away from the table.
“Hey, forgot your finger.”
“Don’t need it anymore,” he said, without looking back. Pyroblades picked it up and twirled it absently on the table. It kept pointing to the door whenever it stopped.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Grimaulkin slowly opened the door to the apartment and closed it quietly behind him. The studio was dim, lit by the moonlight filtered through the curtains, but he knew his way around. He took a sniff of the air – it smelled of incense and blood, and something underneath, something that smelled almost rancid.
He turned and faced the room. He could hear Dysio on the other side, moving around in bed. “Grim?”
“Yeah,” Grim replied, walking across the room. He casually stepped across the magic circle etched in the wood floor, and the rancid smell almost overpowered him. He stopped in the middle as his stomach rolled. He took a few deep breaths through his mouth to get rid of the smell.
“You okay?” He could see Dysio in the moonlight, sitting up in bed, the silver in his chains glistening.
“Yeah,” he said, and continued on through the circle. He stopped about five feet away from the bed, and was assaulted by another smell – a dead skunk.
“You reek,” Dysio said, getting up out of the bed. As usual, he was naked, and he moved with a gentle grace up to Grim. The smell grew stronger, and Grim couldn’t even look at him. “You can take off the glamour, it’s just us.”
“It’s not on,” Grim said, and finally looked up at him. “It’s me.”
“What happened to you?” Dysio lifted Grim’s head by the chin and looked closely at him. “Did you get laid by an angel?”
He started to smile. “Sort of.”
Dysio let him go and stepped back. “What the hell did you do?”
Grim held his arms open. “I’ve been redeemed.”
“Redeemed?” Dysio stepped back, backing up against the bed. “By who? By what?”
“A Mystic Shadow.” He gazed at Dysio. “I’ve been cleansed. I’m free, free of the demoness, free of the darkness.”
Dysio folded his arms across his chest. “Oh yeah? What about all the power you wanted?”
“I don’t need the demoness for that. It’s right here.” He pointed to his heart. “All the power that I need or want.”
“The wrong power,” Dysio said. “You’re a necromancer. You use blood magic and fetishes and bindings. You don’t do this…this…white magic.”
“I guess I’m not a necromancer any more.” He parted open his coat. “I got rid of all the fingers I had on me.”
“You still have some over there. C’mon, Grim, you’re acting all stupid. Let’s go to bed and I’ll make you forget all about it.”
“No,” Grim said. “Do you even know my real name, Dysio? It’s Michael. Nobody’s called me that for years until today. I almost forgot it.”
Dysio glowered at Grim. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. The demons won’t let you go after you die.”
“Then they’ll choke on my soul.”
“I won’t be able to protect you any more. You’re on your own.”
“No. No, I’m not. I have friends.”
“Friends,” spat Dysio. “A mage doesn’t need friends, you told me that.”
“I was wrong,” Grim said quietly. “So very, very wrong.”
Dysio whirled from him and grabbed a pair of pants that was hanging over a chair. “You’re being all kinds of stupid!” He yanked himself into the pants and then grabbed his boots. “Friends, redemption, what a crock of shit!” He pulled on his boots, and stood, his eyes on fire. “They’ll only drag you down, Grim. You’ll see.” Dysio started to walk past him, and stopped at his shoulder. “I’ll come back tomorrow after you’ve thought about things.”
“No, Dysio,” Grim said and looked sideways at the incubus. “Don’t come back.”
Dysio’s eyes flamed, and Grim saw the darkness gather around him, and the smell of decay was ten times worse. “Fuck you, Grim,” he snarled, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Kalius was out there, he thought, watching the door. He would have seen Dysio leave. Grim could go out and get him, bring him in, and maybe he would comfort him.
Grim shook his head, and pulled off his coat slowly. He suddenly felt exhausted, drained. But he reached inside himself and touched the power still there, just behind his heart. He smiled, reassured. He took off his pants and boots, and climbed into bed.
Sleep escaped him.
He turned and faced the room. He could hear Dysio on the other side, moving around in bed. “Grim?”
“Yeah,” Grim replied, walking across the room. He casually stepped across the magic circle etched in the wood floor, and the rancid smell almost overpowered him. He stopped in the middle as his stomach rolled. He took a few deep breaths through his mouth to get rid of the smell.
“You okay?” He could see Dysio in the moonlight, sitting up in bed, the silver in his chains glistening.
“Yeah,” he said, and continued on through the circle. He stopped about five feet away from the bed, and was assaulted by another smell – a dead skunk.
“You reek,” Dysio said, getting up out of the bed. As usual, he was naked, and he moved with a gentle grace up to Grim. The smell grew stronger, and Grim couldn’t even look at him. “You can take off the glamour, it’s just us.”
“It’s not on,” Grim said, and finally looked up at him. “It’s me.”
“What happened to you?” Dysio lifted Grim’s head by the chin and looked closely at him. “Did you get laid by an angel?”
He started to smile. “Sort of.”
Dysio let him go and stepped back. “What the hell did you do?”
Grim held his arms open. “I’ve been redeemed.”
“Redeemed?” Dysio stepped back, backing up against the bed. “By who? By what?”
“A Mystic Shadow.” He gazed at Dysio. “I’ve been cleansed. I’m free, free of the demoness, free of the darkness.”
Dysio folded his arms across his chest. “Oh yeah? What about all the power you wanted?”
“I don’t need the demoness for that. It’s right here.” He pointed to his heart. “All the power that I need or want.”
“The wrong power,” Dysio said. “You’re a necromancer. You use blood magic and fetishes and bindings. You don’t do this…this…white magic.”
“I guess I’m not a necromancer any more.” He parted open his coat. “I got rid of all the fingers I had on me.”
“You still have some over there. C’mon, Grim, you’re acting all stupid. Let’s go to bed and I’ll make you forget all about it.”
“No,” Grim said. “Do you even know my real name, Dysio? It’s Michael. Nobody’s called me that for years until today. I almost forgot it.”
Dysio glowered at Grim. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. The demons won’t let you go after you die.”
“Then they’ll choke on my soul.”
“I won’t be able to protect you any more. You’re on your own.”
“No. No, I’m not. I have friends.”
“Friends,” spat Dysio. “A mage doesn’t need friends, you told me that.”
“I was wrong,” Grim said quietly. “So very, very wrong.”
Dysio whirled from him and grabbed a pair of pants that was hanging over a chair. “You’re being all kinds of stupid!” He yanked himself into the pants and then grabbed his boots. “Friends, redemption, what a crock of shit!” He pulled on his boots, and stood, his eyes on fire. “They’ll only drag you down, Grim. You’ll see.” Dysio started to walk past him, and stopped at his shoulder. “I’ll come back tomorrow after you’ve thought about things.”
“No, Dysio,” Grim said and looked sideways at the incubus. “Don’t come back.”
Dysio’s eyes flamed, and Grim saw the darkness gather around him, and the smell of decay was ten times worse. “Fuck you, Grim,” he snarled, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Kalius was out there, he thought, watching the door. He would have seen Dysio leave. Grim could go out and get him, bring him in, and maybe he would comfort him.
Grim shook his head, and pulled off his coat slowly. He suddenly felt exhausted, drained. But he reached inside himself and touched the power still there, just behind his heart. He smiled, reassured. He took off his pants and boots, and climbed into bed.
Sleep escaped him.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Dysio lounged naked on the bed, looking at his lover who sat on the side of the bed, also naked. The two men had just finished a wake-up call of passionate lovemaking, and Grim was trying to clear his mind through the after-effects.
Dysio turned lazily and curled around Grim’s back, his ever-present chains scratching Grim’s lower back. “What’s wrong?” He head snaked around to rest on Grim’s lap.
“The bottle.” Grim said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I gave him back the damn bottle.”
Dysio kissed Grim’s thigh. “You’re getting soft.”
Grim sighed. “I know. It’s this city.” He got up, padded over to the desk. “I have nothing against him, nothing.”
“Maybe you should concentrate on someone else.” Dysio lay back. “Maybe that Greek?”
“I’ll take the Greek when I’m ready. He’s a damn hero.”
“What about the telepath?”
“No. Oh, no, no, no, I don’t want to go through that again. Besides, he’ll start high and blow my brain to bits with the first shot.”
Dysio put his hands behind his head and lay down flat on the bed. “Then try a girl.”
He whirled on Dysio. “A girl?!”
“Or the robot. He’s got fingers, right?”
“Dammit, Dy, I have my scruples!”
Dysio laughed at Grim’s expression of horror. “You could just tempt him. Them. All of them.”
“I’m not bisexual or cross-species. You know those are my rules.” He turned around and faced the desk. “Besides, I don’t have your stamina to do them all.”
Dysio only chuckled. “So what are your plans?”
“Start with the new gun-slingers. Get them over to our side.”
“Harris’ side.”
“I don’t have a side, not yet. I’m too new there. Maybe later…I have to get them away from Melody.” He turned back to Dysio. “Melody brought them on and left them to fend for themselves. They’re loyal to her, supposedly. All she did was talk to them and hire them.”
“So you need to talk to them more.”
Grim nodded. “And become their friend. They’re heroes, they’re stupid like that.”
Dysio got off the bed and walked over to Grim. “You’re going to spell them?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try not to.”
“You’re a magic user,” Dysio said with almost a pout. “Use magic!”
“It bounces back sometimes, you know that! The more I use magic, the more karma gets built up.” He looked up at Dysio and gave him a crooked smile. “I’ll use my roguish charm.”
Dysio grinned. “Use your roguish charm on this,” and forced Grim to his knees.
Dysio turned lazily and curled around Grim’s back, his ever-present chains scratching Grim’s lower back. “What’s wrong?” He head snaked around to rest on Grim’s lap.
“The bottle.” Grim said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I gave him back the damn bottle.”
Dysio kissed Grim’s thigh. “You’re getting soft.”
Grim sighed. “I know. It’s this city.” He got up, padded over to the desk. “I have nothing against him, nothing.”
“Maybe you should concentrate on someone else.” Dysio lay back. “Maybe that Greek?”
“I’ll take the Greek when I’m ready. He’s a damn hero.”
“What about the telepath?”
“No. Oh, no, no, no, I don’t want to go through that again. Besides, he’ll start high and blow my brain to bits with the first shot.”
Dysio put his hands behind his head and lay down flat on the bed. “Then try a girl.”
He whirled on Dysio. “A girl?!”
“Or the robot. He’s got fingers, right?”
“Dammit, Dy, I have my scruples!”
Dysio laughed at Grim’s expression of horror. “You could just tempt him. Them. All of them.”
“I’m not bisexual or cross-species. You know those are my rules.” He turned around and faced the desk. “Besides, I don’t have your stamina to do them all.”
Dysio only chuckled. “So what are your plans?”
“Start with the new gun-slingers. Get them over to our side.”
“Harris’ side.”
“I don’t have a side, not yet. I’m too new there. Maybe later…I have to get them away from Melody.” He turned back to Dysio. “Melody brought them on and left them to fend for themselves. They’re loyal to her, supposedly. All she did was talk to them and hire them.”
“So you need to talk to them more.”
Grim nodded. “And become their friend. They’re heroes, they’re stupid like that.”
Dysio got off the bed and walked over to Grim. “You’re going to spell them?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try not to.”
“You’re a magic user,” Dysio said with almost a pout. “Use magic!”
“It bounces back sometimes, you know that! The more I use magic, the more karma gets built up.” He looked up at Dysio and gave him a crooked smile. “I’ll use my roguish charm.”
Dysio grinned. “Use your roguish charm on this,” and forced Grim to his knees.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Grimaulkin took the whiskey bottle and set it on the table in the base’s magic room. It looked like any old empty bottle, but to Grim it was special – it had an essence. Harris’ essence.
It wasn’t much, it wouldn’t be enough to bind him, but it would be enough to influence him. To bind him he needed a lot more, or blood. He didn’t want to bind him anyway, just get him to loosen up, to let down his guard.
Grim climbed the stairs and went to one of the back rooms. Whoever had used this room already cleaned out most of the really good magic books. There was one dark magic tome, and that was for novices. Luckily he had done these spells enough times that he had memorized them, every syllable, every motion.
There was no room for a real summoning circle here, so he used the bed as his altar. He drew his dagger, his personal atheme, and walked around the bed, saying, “I consecrate this circle, that none shall enter here, none shall leave here, until my ritual is completed. So mote it be.” He repeated it again, and completed the circle.
He sat on the bed, with the whiskey bottle in the middle of the circle he had drawn. Although he couldn’t see the line of it, he could sense it. He took the bottle by the bottom with both hands and closed his eyes. He opened himself up, feeling power course through him. He opened his eyes – they glowed green. He could see the small bit of saliva on the mouth of the bottle. He put his hand over the area, and he could see the smoke of darkness flow from his palm to the bottle.
He could do one of two things: He could absorb the essence and have a part of him for a temporary amount of time, predicting Harris’ moves and actions, feeling through him for a short time; or he could seal the essence on the bottle and make a fetish, something to use to influence him.
To absorb the essence wouldn’t last long, and he wouldn’t get what he really wanted. He let the smoke flow from him and touch the mouth of the bottle, wrap around it and on top of the area Harris had touched. There, it was sealed.
He took his athame and slashed the circle open. He felt the chill of the gathering of spirits outside come rushing in. He shrugged them off, grabbed the bottle by the neck, and brought it back out to the main room. He opened a drawer and found what he wanted. He stuck a red candle in the mouth of the bottle, and smiled.
“Let the spelling begin,” he whispered.
It wasn’t much, it wouldn’t be enough to bind him, but it would be enough to influence him. To bind him he needed a lot more, or blood. He didn’t want to bind him anyway, just get him to loosen up, to let down his guard.
Grim climbed the stairs and went to one of the back rooms. Whoever had used this room already cleaned out most of the really good magic books. There was one dark magic tome, and that was for novices. Luckily he had done these spells enough times that he had memorized them, every syllable, every motion.
There was no room for a real summoning circle here, so he used the bed as his altar. He drew his dagger, his personal atheme, and walked around the bed, saying, “I consecrate this circle, that none shall enter here, none shall leave here, until my ritual is completed. So mote it be.” He repeated it again, and completed the circle.
He sat on the bed, with the whiskey bottle in the middle of the circle he had drawn. Although he couldn’t see the line of it, he could sense it. He took the bottle by the bottom with both hands and closed his eyes. He opened himself up, feeling power course through him. He opened his eyes – they glowed green. He could see the small bit of saliva on the mouth of the bottle. He put his hand over the area, and he could see the smoke of darkness flow from his palm to the bottle.
He could do one of two things: He could absorb the essence and have a part of him for a temporary amount of time, predicting Harris’ moves and actions, feeling through him for a short time; or he could seal the essence on the bottle and make a fetish, something to use to influence him.
To absorb the essence wouldn’t last long, and he wouldn’t get what he really wanted. He let the smoke flow from him and touch the mouth of the bottle, wrap around it and on top of the area Harris had touched. There, it was sealed.
He took his athame and slashed the circle open. He felt the chill of the gathering of spirits outside come rushing in. He shrugged them off, grabbed the bottle by the neck, and brought it back out to the main room. He opened a drawer and found what he wanted. He stuck a red candle in the mouth of the bottle, and smiled.
“Let the spelling begin,” he whispered.
Grim walks into the room quietly.
Trooper Harris: Nah, I've been up for a couple of hours.
Aaowin: Mmm. Well I just got up.
Aaowin smirks and looks at Grim. "Grimmy!"
Grimaullkin: Hiya!
Aaowin winks at Grim.
Grimaullkin: Frankie Boy!
Aaowin gasps and grins evily at Harris. "Your name is Frank, isn't it?"
Trooper Harris nods, "Yup, Frank the Tank when i'm drinkin'."
Aaowin grins and sips coffee.
Grimaullkin: Really...
Aaowin giggles into her mug.
Grimaullkin: Prove it.
Aaowin stands on the counter. "I'll let you two be alone." She grabs Troop's nose and wiggles it, smirking and gets off the counter. "I'll be on one of those awesome couches."
Trooper Harris smiles at Aaowin, "Alright." He says.
Trooper Harris looks at Grim, "Alright you charred gay-dude. Drink on!"
Grimaullkin: Ah, alone at last.
Grimaullkin: Drink?
Grimaullkin: I don't hold my liquor well.
Trooper Harris shrugs.
Trooper Harris: Whatever you say.
Grimaullkin: Don't like to be taken advantage of, you know?
Grimaullkin: So what's this about a security survaillence tape?
Trooper Harris nods, "Yeah, I drink too well to be taken advantage of."
Trooper Harris holds out his hand and a bottle of whiskey appears in it, "The tape. Right."
Grimaullkin looks at Harris' bottle. "Want me to make it more potent?"
Trooper Harris: I heard about the situation with Raina.
Trooper Harris: No thanks.
Grimaullkin: I didn't think it was a good idea. But...well, the offer was too good to pass up.
Aaowin yawns loudly from below.
Grimaullkin: Besides, she's (Raina) innocent. I don't think innocent people should be in jail.
Grimaullkin: Now, what will it take for you to erase those tapes?
Trooper Harris: They're already erased. But I think Melody already knows about it.
Grimaullkin: Yeah, and...?
Trooper Harris: She'll come looking for you.
Grimaullkin: And put me in jail, to get tried by the authorities?
Grimaullkin: You know how long that's going to take?
Grimaullkin: I can get around it.
Trooper Harris: Just saying... Avoid her...
Grimaullkin: I can spell her. All I need is something of hers.
Grimaullkin: She'll never know.
Trooper Harris: It's not as easy as you might think. How many people do you think know?
Grimaullkin: Know about...?
Trooper Harris: What you did....
Trooper Harris: Mind knows. (Mindstryker, who caught them while escaping)
Grimaullkin: Yes, he does.
Aaowin calls out from below, watching TV. "You two getting it on yet?!"
Grimaullkin yells down, "Working on it!"
Aaowin laughs.
Aaowin: Don't wear him out too bad, Grimmy! I want some!
Grimaullkin yells down again, "The damn zipper's stuck!"
Aaowin laughs loudly. "Want some help??"
Grimaullkin yells back, "No, there's a knife right here. Just hold still, buddy..."
Trooper Harris raises an eye brow, "You know I'm *straight* right?"
Aaowin: WOAH HEY!
Grimaullkin: Never stopped me before.
Aaowin: No cutting off his dick! I said I want some!
Grimaullkin: And I was told that you're not.
Grimaullkin: That you're quite the manly queer.
Grimaullkin: I mean, with the big guns, they have to be a symbol of something else big, right?
Grimaullkin: I'll show you mine if you show me yours.
Trooper Harris blinks.
Trooper Harris: If -yours- comes out, it'll get blown off.
Grimaullkin: Sweet!
Grimaullkin: I can stand on the counter...
Trooper Harris: ...
Trooper Harris lowers his gaze, his brow arching showing that he is angry looking.
Grimaullkin tilts his head like a innocent puppy. "Yes....?"
Trooper Harris: ...
Grimaullkin: Don't pout.
Trooper Harris: I'm NOT....
Grimaullkin: Hmmm? *gets right up to the counter*
Trooper Harris just shakes his head and jumps over the counter, walking past Grim, "It's too early for me to deal with shit like this." He says.
Grimaullkin watches his back.
Aaowin reads a magazine.
Trooper Harris takes a large gulp from his bottle of whiskey and tosses it off to the side. It shatters on the ground and he walks out of the room.
Grimaullkin: So, wait, I'll get serious...
Grimaullkin waves his hand and the whiskey bottle reforms.
Aaowin sips her coffee.
Aaowin: Woah, hey.
Grimaullkin: This'll work.
Aaowin: How'd it go?
Aaowin grins.
Trooper Harris sighs, "Serious is this... It's -not- gonna happen. I'm STRAIGHT." He says.
Grimaullkin is holding the empty whiskey bottle in his hand.
Trooper Harris walks over to the area where Aaowin is sitting, "What's so gods damned funny?!" He growls.
Aaowin tries not to laugh but laughs harder.
Grimaullkin: I know, you're just shy.
Grimaullkin: I mean, this place echoes.
Trooper Harris sighs, "Oh gods damn it! I'm FUCKING STRAIGHT!" He roars at Grim.
Aaowin practically screams laughter.
Grimaullkin: Prove it.
Grimaullkin: Lemme see, right now, see if it's up or not.
Aaowin: Pahahaha!
Grimaullkin: If it's flat, I'll leave you alone. Today.
Trooper Harris blinks.
Trooper Harris looks at Grim, and then at the table.
Aaowin is hysterical.
Trooper Harris reaches down grabbing the table at the edge with one of his massive hands and proceeds to chuck it in Grims direction as hard as he physically can.
Trooper Harris which is pretty hard considering he's a juiced up super soldier.
Aaowin tries to calm herself. "G-Grimmy! Pahaha! C-Can Frank and I g-get a minute? Haha!"
Grimaullkin ducks, but gets clipped on the head by the table's bottom.
Grimaullkin: Shit, ow!
Aaowin starts laughing again.
Grimaullkin: Son of a bitch, I'm BLEEDING!
Aaowin laughs, stumbling over to Grim and attempting to heal him.
Trooper Harris nods, "Yeah, bleeding. And I'm still dressed..." He growls.
Grimaullkin holds onto his head.
Aaowin heals you for 174.86 points of damage.
Grimaullkin sighs.
Grimaullkin: Thanks...
Grimaullkin: Okay, okay...
Grimaullkin: But if it's big, I want to know about it. In detail.
Aaowin grins. "Duh."
Aaowin: Now shoo.
Grimaullkin sighs, "What I'll be missing..."
Grimaullkin takes the whiskey bottle with him.
Aaowin looks at Frank and busts out laughing.
Trooper Harris dose not look amused, "That ain’t funny." He growls.
Aaowin giggles. "Yes it is. I told him you were gay."
Trooper Harris: That guy is fuckin cree- WHAT?!
Aaowin tries not to laugh.
Trooper Harris looks down at her, looking pretty pissed. His head turning a bright shade of red and he starts to sweat. Then he teleports off.
Trooper Harris: Nah, I've been up for a couple of hours.
Aaowin: Mmm. Well I just got up.
Aaowin smirks and looks at Grim. "Grimmy!"
Grimaullkin: Hiya!
Aaowin winks at Grim.
Grimaullkin: Frankie Boy!
Aaowin gasps and grins evily at Harris. "Your name is Frank, isn't it?"
Trooper Harris nods, "Yup, Frank the Tank when i'm drinkin'."
Aaowin grins and sips coffee.
Grimaullkin: Really...
Aaowin giggles into her mug.
Grimaullkin: Prove it.
Aaowin stands on the counter. "I'll let you two be alone." She grabs Troop's nose and wiggles it, smirking and gets off the counter. "I'll be on one of those awesome couches."
Trooper Harris smiles at Aaowin, "Alright." He says.
Trooper Harris looks at Grim, "Alright you charred gay-dude. Drink on!"
Grimaullkin: Ah, alone at last.
Grimaullkin: Drink?
Grimaullkin: I don't hold my liquor well.
Trooper Harris shrugs.
Trooper Harris: Whatever you say.
Grimaullkin: Don't like to be taken advantage of, you know?
Grimaullkin: So what's this about a security survaillence tape?
Trooper Harris nods, "Yeah, I drink too well to be taken advantage of."
Trooper Harris holds out his hand and a bottle of whiskey appears in it, "The tape. Right."
Grimaullkin looks at Harris' bottle. "Want me to make it more potent?"
Trooper Harris: I heard about the situation with Raina.
Trooper Harris: No thanks.
Grimaullkin: I didn't think it was a good idea. But...well, the offer was too good to pass up.
Aaowin yawns loudly from below.
Grimaullkin: Besides, she's (Raina) innocent. I don't think innocent people should be in jail.
Grimaullkin: Now, what will it take for you to erase those tapes?
Trooper Harris: They're already erased. But I think Melody already knows about it.
Grimaullkin: Yeah, and...?
Trooper Harris: She'll come looking for you.
Grimaullkin: And put me in jail, to get tried by the authorities?
Grimaullkin: You know how long that's going to take?
Grimaullkin: I can get around it.
Trooper Harris: Just saying... Avoid her...
Grimaullkin: I can spell her. All I need is something of hers.
Grimaullkin: She'll never know.
Trooper Harris: It's not as easy as you might think. How many people do you think know?
Grimaullkin: Know about...?
Trooper Harris: What you did....
Trooper Harris: Mind knows. (Mindstryker, who caught them while escaping)
Grimaullkin: Yes, he does.
Aaowin calls out from below, watching TV. "You two getting it on yet?!"
Grimaullkin yells down, "Working on it!"
Aaowin laughs.
Aaowin: Don't wear him out too bad, Grimmy! I want some!
Grimaullkin yells down again, "The damn zipper's stuck!"
Aaowin laughs loudly. "Want some help??"
Grimaullkin yells back, "No, there's a knife right here. Just hold still, buddy..."
Trooper Harris raises an eye brow, "You know I'm *straight* right?"
Aaowin: WOAH HEY!
Grimaullkin: Never stopped me before.
Aaowin: No cutting off his dick! I said I want some!
Grimaullkin: And I was told that you're not.
Grimaullkin: That you're quite the manly queer.
Grimaullkin: I mean, with the big guns, they have to be a symbol of something else big, right?
Grimaullkin: I'll show you mine if you show me yours.
Trooper Harris blinks.
Trooper Harris: If -yours- comes out, it'll get blown off.
Grimaullkin: Sweet!
Grimaullkin: I can stand on the counter...
Trooper Harris: ...
Trooper Harris lowers his gaze, his brow arching showing that he is angry looking.
Grimaullkin tilts his head like a innocent puppy. "Yes....?"
Trooper Harris: ...
Grimaullkin: Don't pout.
Trooper Harris: I'm NOT....
Grimaullkin: Hmmm? *gets right up to the counter*
Trooper Harris just shakes his head and jumps over the counter, walking past Grim, "It's too early for me to deal with shit like this." He says.
Grimaullkin watches his back.
Aaowin reads a magazine.
Trooper Harris takes a large gulp from his bottle of whiskey and tosses it off to the side. It shatters on the ground and he walks out of the room.
Grimaullkin: So, wait, I'll get serious...
Grimaullkin waves his hand and the whiskey bottle reforms.
Aaowin sips her coffee.
Aaowin: Woah, hey.
Grimaullkin: This'll work.
Aaowin: How'd it go?
Aaowin grins.
Trooper Harris sighs, "Serious is this... It's -not- gonna happen. I'm STRAIGHT." He says.
Grimaullkin is holding the empty whiskey bottle in his hand.
Trooper Harris walks over to the area where Aaowin is sitting, "What's so gods damned funny?!" He growls.
Aaowin tries not to laugh but laughs harder.
Grimaullkin: I know, you're just shy.
Grimaullkin: I mean, this place echoes.
Trooper Harris sighs, "Oh gods damn it! I'm FUCKING STRAIGHT!" He roars at Grim.
Aaowin practically screams laughter.
Grimaullkin: Prove it.
Grimaullkin: Lemme see, right now, see if it's up or not.
Aaowin: Pahahaha!
Grimaullkin: If it's flat, I'll leave you alone. Today.
Trooper Harris blinks.
Trooper Harris looks at Grim, and then at the table.
Aaowin is hysterical.
Trooper Harris reaches down grabbing the table at the edge with one of his massive hands and proceeds to chuck it in Grims direction as hard as he physically can.
Trooper Harris which is pretty hard considering he's a juiced up super soldier.
Aaowin tries to calm herself. "G-Grimmy! Pahaha! C-Can Frank and I g-get a minute? Haha!"
Grimaullkin ducks, but gets clipped on the head by the table's bottom.
Grimaullkin: Shit, ow!
Aaowin starts laughing again.
Grimaullkin: Son of a bitch, I'm BLEEDING!
Aaowin laughs, stumbling over to Grim and attempting to heal him.
Trooper Harris nods, "Yeah, bleeding. And I'm still dressed..." He growls.
Grimaullkin holds onto his head.
Aaowin heals you for 174.86 points of damage.
Grimaullkin sighs.
Grimaullkin: Thanks...
Grimaullkin: Okay, okay...
Grimaullkin: But if it's big, I want to know about it. In detail.
Aaowin grins. "Duh."
Aaowin: Now shoo.
Grimaullkin sighs, "What I'll be missing..."
Grimaullkin takes the whiskey bottle with him.
Aaowin looks at Frank and busts out laughing.
Trooper Harris dose not look amused, "That ain’t funny." He growls.
Aaowin giggles. "Yes it is. I told him you were gay."
Trooper Harris: That guy is fuckin cree- WHAT?!
Aaowin tries not to laugh.
Trooper Harris looks down at her, looking pretty pissed. His head turning a bright shade of red and he starts to sweat. Then he teleports off.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Masonry started to laugh, “Your name is what?”
“Nutcracker.” The small brown-haired man gazed impassively at Masonry, as if he was bored with this whole exchange.
“What the hell kind of hero name is that?”
“Not any more stupid than Bladeless,” the man commented.
“It’s an obvious statement of my talent.”
“Might as well call yourself Bare-Knuckle Brawler. Oh, sorry, that’s been taken.” He walked to the middle of the huge room. Masonry had been impressed with the murals on the walls and the markings on the floor, not knowing what they were, but assuming they were magic. This room looked like it was used for battles. “Show me what you can do.”
Masonry summoned the darkness within, and his fists smoked. He looked up at Nutcracker.
“I’m waiting.”
“Do you want me to hit you?”
“Do whatever it is you do. I’m your enemy.”
Masonry looked down, and then rushed at Nutcracker. He hauled off and hit him hard in the ribs. It felt like he had punched a pillow.
“Again,” Nutcracker said, nonplussed.
Masonry let off a few good punches, and the man didn’t move. Again, it was like punching something soft. The man nodded. “Now, my turn.”
He raised his arms, and Masonry felt a huge blast of wind come at him. He centered himself and didn’t move. Then a bolt of lightning hit his arm. He yelled, jumped back, looking up at the dark cloud that suddenly appeared in the room. The cloud advanced on him, and another bolt shot out, hitting him squarely in the chest. He fell, the wind knocked out of him.
“Your defense sucks,” Nutcracker said, as the cloud moved to float over him. “You’ve been relying on offense all this time. I’m surprised you're not dead yet.”
“Gee, thanks,” Masonry retorted, getting up and brushing off his pants.
“Doesn’t the Netherworld cloud your vision?”
“Huh?”
Nutcracker rolled his eyes. “I’m among the heathens. The power that you use – what do you call it?”
“Darkness.”
“Fine, fine, Darkness. Does the Darkness ever cloud your vision? Want to take over?”
“All the time.”
“Do you let it?”
“I try not to.” But sometimes, and he didn’t want to admit to this M.A.G.I. agent, he had mistakenly killed enemies.
Nutcracker looked at him, as if trying to read his mind. “You need to practice that, to learn to control it, not let it control you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Well, the first thing we’re going to teach you is meditation.”
“Meditation? Are you serious?”
“You’re magic. Learn to use it.”
“Does that mean I’m gonna levitate and all that?”
Nutcracker gave him a crooked smile. “One step at a time, Bladeless. Sit down.”
Masonry sat in a lotus position. Nutcracker shook his head. “No, that’s not comfortable. You have to be comfortable. Lie down if you want.”
Masonry lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, also covered with murals.
“Close your eyes. Listen to my voice.”
Masonry closed his eyes, and heard a voice in his head, Don’t trust him.
Masonry snapped open his eyes. “Stop.”
“What?” Nutcracker had moved to sit beside him.
“I can’t trust you.”
“That’s the Ne—the Darkness talking. The Darkness doesn’t want to be controlled. It wants to control its vessel. You’re being used, Bladeless.”
“But if I…if try and control the darkness, it won’t give me power.”
“Wrong,” said Nutcracker. “If you know anything about dark magic, you should know that it’s selfish and always likes to be set free. If that means it gets bottled up a little bit, it just means it’s stronger when it’s let out.”
Masonry said, “Kind of like sex. If you don’t do it for a while…” He blushed, realizing where he was going with the analogy.
“Exactly like that.” Nutcracker rubbed his chin. “I need to teach you some basic defensive magic.”
“Do I need to?”
“You shouldn’t be scared of magic. It’s what you have now. Use it.” Nutcracker sat back. “Now, let’s try this again. Close your eyes…”
“Nutcracker.” The small brown-haired man gazed impassively at Masonry, as if he was bored with this whole exchange.
“What the hell kind of hero name is that?”
“Not any more stupid than Bladeless,” the man commented.
“It’s an obvious statement of my talent.”
“Might as well call yourself Bare-Knuckle Brawler. Oh, sorry, that’s been taken.” He walked to the middle of the huge room. Masonry had been impressed with the murals on the walls and the markings on the floor, not knowing what they were, but assuming they were magic. This room looked like it was used for battles. “Show me what you can do.”
Masonry summoned the darkness within, and his fists smoked. He looked up at Nutcracker.
“I’m waiting.”
“Do you want me to hit you?”
“Do whatever it is you do. I’m your enemy.”
Masonry looked down, and then rushed at Nutcracker. He hauled off and hit him hard in the ribs. It felt like he had punched a pillow.
“Again,” Nutcracker said, nonplussed.
Masonry let off a few good punches, and the man didn’t move. Again, it was like punching something soft. The man nodded. “Now, my turn.”
He raised his arms, and Masonry felt a huge blast of wind come at him. He centered himself and didn’t move. Then a bolt of lightning hit his arm. He yelled, jumped back, looking up at the dark cloud that suddenly appeared in the room. The cloud advanced on him, and another bolt shot out, hitting him squarely in the chest. He fell, the wind knocked out of him.
“Your defense sucks,” Nutcracker said, as the cloud moved to float over him. “You’ve been relying on offense all this time. I’m surprised you're not dead yet.”
“Gee, thanks,” Masonry retorted, getting up and brushing off his pants.
“Doesn’t the Netherworld cloud your vision?”
“Huh?”
Nutcracker rolled his eyes. “I’m among the heathens. The power that you use – what do you call it?”
“Darkness.”
“Fine, fine, Darkness. Does the Darkness ever cloud your vision? Want to take over?”
“All the time.”
“Do you let it?”
“I try not to.” But sometimes, and he didn’t want to admit to this M.A.G.I. agent, he had mistakenly killed enemies.
Nutcracker looked at him, as if trying to read his mind. “You need to practice that, to learn to control it, not let it control you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Well, the first thing we’re going to teach you is meditation.”
“Meditation? Are you serious?”
“You’re magic. Learn to use it.”
“Does that mean I’m gonna levitate and all that?”
Nutcracker gave him a crooked smile. “One step at a time, Bladeless. Sit down.”
Masonry sat in a lotus position. Nutcracker shook his head. “No, that’s not comfortable. You have to be comfortable. Lie down if you want.”
Masonry lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, also covered with murals.
“Close your eyes. Listen to my voice.”
Masonry closed his eyes, and heard a voice in his head, Don’t trust him.
Masonry snapped open his eyes. “Stop.”
“What?” Nutcracker had moved to sit beside him.
“I can’t trust you.”
“That’s the Ne—the Darkness talking. The Darkness doesn’t want to be controlled. It wants to control its vessel. You’re being used, Bladeless.”
“But if I…if try and control the darkness, it won’t give me power.”
“Wrong,” said Nutcracker. “If you know anything about dark magic, you should know that it’s selfish and always likes to be set free. If that means it gets bottled up a little bit, it just means it’s stronger when it’s let out.”
Masonry said, “Kind of like sex. If you don’t do it for a while…” He blushed, realizing where he was going with the analogy.
“Exactly like that.” Nutcracker rubbed his chin. “I need to teach you some basic defensive magic.”
“Do I need to?”
“You shouldn’t be scared of magic. It’s what you have now. Use it.” Nutcracker sat back. “Now, let’s try this again. Close your eyes…”
Monday, October 5, 2009
Dysio opened the door and just missed getting brained by a flying glass flask. It flew past him to the hallway beyond and shattered on the plaster wall, oozing bright blue liquid along it.
“Fuck!”
Dysio raised an eyebrow and entered the room. The usually impeccable magic workshop looked like the Legacy Chain had gone through it. Bottles, jars, books were everywhere, scattered along the floor. Papers fell from assorted nooks, and in the center of it all was his lover, Grimaulkin, tearing things apart.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s gone, it’s fucking GONE!” He threw a book to the floor and glared at Dysio. “Grimalkin’s atheme!”
Grimalkin was Grim’s demoness, who he had tricked into binding into a crystal dagger before they moved to the Isles. Dysio grabbed a chair, tipped it over knocking off the books that had landed there, and flipped the chair around, straddling it. “When did you last see it?”
“I remember packing it, it was the first thing I packed to bring here.”
“Are you sure?”
Grim whirled on Dysio. “What do you think I am, stupid?”
“No, of course not.” Damn, he’s sexy when he’s pissed. “You haven’t touched it since?”
“I know better. I bound her to it, it doesn’t mean she can’t use me as a conduit.” Grim was very aware of touching things with others’ “essences”. He could sense an essence in an object and use it in spells to control others. Sometimes, the essence was so strong that he couldn’t control it, as in the case of Grimmy. That, he knew, to leave alone.
Grim sat hard on the floor amid the debris. “What if somebody’s got it? What if they can set her free?”
“They can’t set her free, only you can. Only you know the spell.”
He looked up at Dysio. “We both know the spell. You taught me.”
Dysio’s gaze turned into a “duh” look. “Grim, you know I love you.”
“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying, if somebody…captures you, and tortures you…”
He chuckled. “I’m too tough to torture.” He got down from the chair and joined Grim on the floor. “Besides, you’ll protect me, won’t you?”
Grim looked at the hulking Dysio. “It’s the other way around, isn’t it?”
Dysio caressed Grim’s cheek. “I’m a weak incubus. I still need protection.”
“And constant sex,” Grim said, taking Dysio’s hand. “It’s a good thing we’re going to Paragon. So much repression there.”
“Maybe your dagger’s there.”
“But I packed it. I know I did.”
“And you remember stowing it on the boat in Striga? Do you remember that particular package?”
“Well, no, not that particular one…”
“It might be still in Striga.”
“It’s gone if it is.”
“The Warriors might have found it.”
Grim brightened. “And knowing them, they fenced it.”
“Which means it could be anywhere in Talos.”
“Or Paragon.” He gazed at Dysio. “Anywhere in Paragon.”
“And you can find it. You can sense her essence.”
“I don’t know if I’m that good,” Grim said.
“I’ll make you that good,” Dysio replied, and kissed him.
“Fuck!”
Dysio raised an eyebrow and entered the room. The usually impeccable magic workshop looked like the Legacy Chain had gone through it. Bottles, jars, books were everywhere, scattered along the floor. Papers fell from assorted nooks, and in the center of it all was his lover, Grimaulkin, tearing things apart.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s gone, it’s fucking GONE!” He threw a book to the floor and glared at Dysio. “Grimalkin’s atheme!”
Grimalkin was Grim’s demoness, who he had tricked into binding into a crystal dagger before they moved to the Isles. Dysio grabbed a chair, tipped it over knocking off the books that had landed there, and flipped the chair around, straddling it. “When did you last see it?”
“I remember packing it, it was the first thing I packed to bring here.”
“Are you sure?”
Grim whirled on Dysio. “What do you think I am, stupid?”
“No, of course not.” Damn, he’s sexy when he’s pissed. “You haven’t touched it since?”
“I know better. I bound her to it, it doesn’t mean she can’t use me as a conduit.” Grim was very aware of touching things with others’ “essences”. He could sense an essence in an object and use it in spells to control others. Sometimes, the essence was so strong that he couldn’t control it, as in the case of Grimmy. That, he knew, to leave alone.
Grim sat hard on the floor amid the debris. “What if somebody’s got it? What if they can set her free?”
“They can’t set her free, only you can. Only you know the spell.”
He looked up at Dysio. “We both know the spell. You taught me.”
Dysio’s gaze turned into a “duh” look. “Grim, you know I love you.”
“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying, if somebody…captures you, and tortures you…”
He chuckled. “I’m too tough to torture.” He got down from the chair and joined Grim on the floor. “Besides, you’ll protect me, won’t you?”
Grim looked at the hulking Dysio. “It’s the other way around, isn’t it?”
Dysio caressed Grim’s cheek. “I’m a weak incubus. I still need protection.”
“And constant sex,” Grim said, taking Dysio’s hand. “It’s a good thing we’re going to Paragon. So much repression there.”
“Maybe your dagger’s there.”
“But I packed it. I know I did.”
“And you remember stowing it on the boat in Striga? Do you remember that particular package?”
“Well, no, not that particular one…”
“It might be still in Striga.”
“It’s gone if it is.”
“The Warriors might have found it.”
Grim brightened. “And knowing them, they fenced it.”
“Which means it could be anywhere in Talos.”
“Or Paragon.” He gazed at Dysio. “Anywhere in Paragon.”
“And you can find it. You can sense her essence.”
“I don’t know if I’m that good,” Grim said.
“I’ll make you that good,” Dysio replied, and kissed him.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
“Wake up sleepy head!”
Diane slowly opened her eyes. “What time is it?” she moaned, shielding her eyes from the brighter light than her closed eyes.
“Ten o’clock!” Diane’s best friend from high school, Rachel Cassidy, was smiling down at her. “We’re supposed to go to that bookstore at Faneuil Hall.”
“Uh huh.”
“What, you were up all night?” Rachel sat at the edge of the couch Diane had collapsed on last night. “What were you doing?”
“Reading the book you got me. I went to Starbucks.” She sat up. “I met somebody there.” A mutant, like me.
Rachel didn’t know Diane’s ability to play with fire. Rachel smiled. “Did you? A guy?”
“Yeah, a guy.” She felt herself blushing.
“Oh, was he cute?”
“Yeah, he was cute.” He had such nice sapphire eyes, and the beard made him look so distinguished…she tried not to think about the rest of him but couldn’t help it. She blushed even more.
“Oh, you like him, huh? What’s his name?”
“Duncan Idaho.”
She looked up, thinking. “Why does that name sound familiar…?”
Diane shrugged, got up off the couch. “I’m supposed to meet him tonight.”
“Oh really?!” Rachel grinned at her. “That’s fast for you.”
“Well, it felt right.”
“Whoa, are you actually paying attention to those feelings now?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“So are you going to call Kevin to tell him you’re not going to be home?” She winked.
“I’ll go home. It’s only a two hour drive back. I won’t be that late. We’re meeting at six.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I really have no idea.” I just wanted to see him again. “Let me take a quick shower and we’ll head over to Faneuil Hall.”
Idaho turned over in bed, his arms on fire. This usually happened while he slept, whenever he was totally relaxed, the fire would come. His bed and sheets were fire proof, he had disconnected the fire alarms in his little apartment.
He lay with his arms behind his head, thinking about Diane. Another hero, just like Aestas. Controller of fire, just like Aestas. Dark hair, just like Aestas.
It had been almost a year since he left her. She had changed, become too mystical for him, and the Peacebringer she had with her disturbed him. He couldn’t take it anymore and finally had to leave. She let him go without tears; he wondered if she was encouraging him to leave. He knew he held her back from doing what her destiny dictated.
I hope she’s with Silos, he thought. He’d make her happy, teach her the Mending that she was born to do. And being the Guardian…
He sighed, got up. She was so much, and only a tiny part of her concerned herself with him. He wasn’t that important in her life, and he knew it. But, then, when they first met, she wasn’t important in his life, either. So it was only fair.
After going to the bathroom, he padded to the kitchen and opened the fridge. When he opened it, he realized that he really didn’t have much to entertain somebody with. There were two six-packs of Heineken, some lunch meat and bread, and a piece of leftover steak that was there since the last time he cooked something, which he couldn’t remember when it was.
Dinner and a movie, he thought, nodding, and closing the door. Though he really should invite her in. He needed to stop at Stanley’s and pick up some wine. And wine glasses. He shook his head. No need to go overboard. He was a single guy. He wouldn’t have wine glasses at hand.
He glanced around the apartment. First, we clean.
He picked up and straightened out, wishing he had a vacuum. He made his bed, went out to the convenience store and got some crackers and cheese. He walked the four blocks to the liquor store and picked up the wine, though he had no idea what he was getting.
Idaho sat down and watched TV and the clock. At 5:00, he took a shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He had a place in mind for dinner, and it wasn’t fancy. He didn’t think she’d like anything fancy. At 5:30, he started to pace. At 5:50, the doorbell rang.
He took a deep breath, went downstairs, locking the door behind him. As he came down the stairs, he saw her through the glass door. In the twilight, she was pretty, with her shoulder length black hair but her severe face, as if she was holding something in. He opened the door and smiled at her. She smiled back, looking a lot prettier.
“Hi,” he said. Should I kiss her?
“Hi,” she replied. Should I kiss him?
They stood there awkwardly for a minute.
“At least I have all my clothes on,” he said.
“Uh huh,” she said, and blushed.
He put a hand through his hair. “Well, right. Okay. I know this nice little Thai restaurant a couple of doors down. Do you like Thai food?”
“I haven’t tried it.”
“It’s like Chinese.” He offered his arm. She slipped her arm in his, and they started walking. They were in silence for a little while.
“You don’t have a car?” she asked.
“I live in the city. I use a bus. Or I get rides from the guys at work.”
“And you do construction?”
“I’m a welder.” He smiled. “I have my own torch.”
“Ah,” she said. “How come you’re in Boston and not in Paragon City?”
“Long story.”
“Tell me over dinner.”
“Deal.”
They arrived at the restaurant. After they settled in, and Idaho ordered appetizers, she gazed at him for a minute. “I’m not going to let it go,” she said. “How come you’re not a hero?”
“I was a hero,” he said quietly. “Then I fell in love with a hero who was more…heroic than me.”
“Oh,” she looked at her plate.
“I couldn’t keep up with her. And then she got a Kheldian in her, and she went to Grandville to take on Lord Recluse, and everything changed.” He fiddled with his fork. “I tried to keep up with her, but I couldn’t. She let it take over her life. I was just added baggage.” He made an encompassing move with his arm. “So it was easier for me to just come up here and be a regular person.”
“Do you miss it?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Do you miss her?”
He looked at the plate. “Sometimes. But she’s happier doing what she’s doing, and she really doesn’t need me.”
“Did you really love her?” She blushed. What kind of question is that, Diane?
“She was my first love. Well, my second, if you want to count Pill.”
“Pill?”
“Pilanequay. She found me when I was first in Paragon. She sort of raised me.”
“You said you were a clone, though. Were you…born?”
“I was made,” he said. “In an Arachnos tank that was used for creating Fire Tarantulas.”
“That explains the fire.”
“Yes. My original doesn’t have fire.”
“What does he have? Is he a hero, too?”
“He was. He could encase himself in stone and take a few good hits. I don’t know what he’s doing now.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Masonry.”
“Never heard of him.”
“That’s okay, he…sort of died.”
“Sort of died?”
“And was brought back to life. I told you it’s a long story.”
She looked confused. Well, she thought, this is Paragon City, after all. Stranger things have happened.
He sat back. “Okay, enough about that. Now you.”
“Me?”
“Uh huh. I don’t know much about you. I know you’re a hero in Paragon, and that you manipulate fire, and that you’re a mutant. What else is there about you? Do you have a job? Do you have a family?”
“I don’t really work, I mostly study. For the hero exams, and magic stuff.”
“Why magic?”
“It’s something I don’t understand.”
“You probably never will. I don’t understand a lot of it myself.”
“But you have it all over you.” She motioned to his arms.
“It’s protection. And help. And strength. And power. And other things.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So what about your family?”
“I have a mom and dad, and a brother. We do heroing together.”
He smiled. “That’s nice. And you live in Paragon?”
“In Steel Canyon.”
“Nice area. Not so rough.”
“Why don’t you come back?”
Their food arrived, and Idaho let out a breath. Perfect timing. They started eating, and he hoped she would have forgotten about the question. But she didn’t. She asked him again.
He sighed. “Too many bad memories there. My original is still there. My enemies are still there. I don’t know where my ex-girlfriend is, but she might still be there. I really don’t want to go back and be a hero.”
“You could help. They’re always looking for help.”
“You be the hero,” he snapped.
She looked down, chastened. He softened his gaze, reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she said. “I probably sound like your ex.”
“Hm, maybe a little.” He let go of her hand, and she watched him pull back. He smiled at her. “So I was thinking maybe a movie?”
“I didn’t see a movie theater around here.”
“That’s the thing, you’re going to have to drive.”
“Oh, is that it.” She smiled at him. “I can do that.”
Idaho paid, even after she protested, and they walked out of the restaurant arm in arm again. “Where are you parked?” he asked.
“Two streets over. Finding parking here is a bitch.”
“Welcome to Boston,” he replied, as they started walking. They ended up walking along the Charles River. It was dark, and the street lights were relatively dim. He stopped, pulled her to him.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he said, and kissed her.
They broke from the kiss, and she put her head against his chest. “Me too.”
“The hell with the movie,” he said. “Want to come back to my place?”
She looked up at him. “Sure.”
This time, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. They walked back to his apartment. She entered the kitchen/entrance/foyer and turned around. “Kind of small.”
“It’s only me,” he said, taking her coat. “I don’t even have a kitchen table.”
“I can see that.”
“I don’t do much cooking, anyway.” He had to get next to her to get by her to go into the living room/bedroom area. He looked at her, then started to scoot by her. She put her hands out automatically and touched his hips. He stopped in the doorway, and she put her arms around him. He bent and kissed her again, long, deep. He backed her up against the door frame, pressing his body against hers. She pulled her arms up and embraced his back, pulling him closer to her.
They broke the kiss, and he bent to kiss her neck. He licked around her earlobe, and she gasped. He lifted his head, and looked into her eyes. Both of them were breathing heavily.
“I…I can’t.” He stepped back. “I’ll hurt you.”
“Huh?” she blinked. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“If ….when…I get excited, I…go up.”
“Most men do,” she said with a smile.
“No, I mean, up…in flames. I burn.”
Diane moved closer to him. “I’m a mutant and I use fire. Do you think fire hurts me?”
“Huh, um, well…”
She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Let’s try it.”
He indeed went up in flames. So did she, enjoying every minute.
They lay in bed, entwined in each other’s arms. “Fireproof sheets?” she asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Where did you get those?”
“Paragon. Only place they had them.” He traced the outline of her breasts.
“Hey, that tickles.”
“Sorry.” He nuzzled closer against her. “Will you be going back to your friend’s?”
“I have to go home.”
“Why don’t you stay the night? Say you were with your friend for another night.”
“I don’t like to lie.”
“Okay, tell the truth, then.”
She turned to him. “Was I okay?”
He blinked. “Of course you were!”
“It was…my first time…”
He raised himself on his elbow and gazed into her eyes. “It was?”
She nodded, blushing. He scooped her up in his arms. “I hope I was good enough for you.”
“Oh, you were. You really were.” They kissed again, and hands roamed.
Diane slowly opened her eyes. “What time is it?” she moaned, shielding her eyes from the brighter light than her closed eyes.
“Ten o’clock!” Diane’s best friend from high school, Rachel Cassidy, was smiling down at her. “We’re supposed to go to that bookstore at Faneuil Hall.”
“Uh huh.”
“What, you were up all night?” Rachel sat at the edge of the couch Diane had collapsed on last night. “What were you doing?”
“Reading the book you got me. I went to Starbucks.” She sat up. “I met somebody there.” A mutant, like me.
Rachel didn’t know Diane’s ability to play with fire. Rachel smiled. “Did you? A guy?”
“Yeah, a guy.” She felt herself blushing.
“Oh, was he cute?”
“Yeah, he was cute.” He had such nice sapphire eyes, and the beard made him look so distinguished…she tried not to think about the rest of him but couldn’t help it. She blushed even more.
“Oh, you like him, huh? What’s his name?”
“Duncan Idaho.”
She looked up, thinking. “Why does that name sound familiar…?”
Diane shrugged, got up off the couch. “I’m supposed to meet him tonight.”
“Oh really?!” Rachel grinned at her. “That’s fast for you.”
“Well, it felt right.”
“Whoa, are you actually paying attention to those feelings now?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“So are you going to call Kevin to tell him you’re not going to be home?” She winked.
“I’ll go home. It’s only a two hour drive back. I won’t be that late. We’re meeting at six.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I really have no idea.” I just wanted to see him again. “Let me take a quick shower and we’ll head over to Faneuil Hall.”
Idaho turned over in bed, his arms on fire. This usually happened while he slept, whenever he was totally relaxed, the fire would come. His bed and sheets were fire proof, he had disconnected the fire alarms in his little apartment.
He lay with his arms behind his head, thinking about Diane. Another hero, just like Aestas. Controller of fire, just like Aestas. Dark hair, just like Aestas.
It had been almost a year since he left her. She had changed, become too mystical for him, and the Peacebringer she had with her disturbed him. He couldn’t take it anymore and finally had to leave. She let him go without tears; he wondered if she was encouraging him to leave. He knew he held her back from doing what her destiny dictated.
I hope she’s with Silos, he thought. He’d make her happy, teach her the Mending that she was born to do. And being the Guardian…
He sighed, got up. She was so much, and only a tiny part of her concerned herself with him. He wasn’t that important in her life, and he knew it. But, then, when they first met, she wasn’t important in his life, either. So it was only fair.
After going to the bathroom, he padded to the kitchen and opened the fridge. When he opened it, he realized that he really didn’t have much to entertain somebody with. There were two six-packs of Heineken, some lunch meat and bread, and a piece of leftover steak that was there since the last time he cooked something, which he couldn’t remember when it was.
Dinner and a movie, he thought, nodding, and closing the door. Though he really should invite her in. He needed to stop at Stanley’s and pick up some wine. And wine glasses. He shook his head. No need to go overboard. He was a single guy. He wouldn’t have wine glasses at hand.
He glanced around the apartment. First, we clean.
He picked up and straightened out, wishing he had a vacuum. He made his bed, went out to the convenience store and got some crackers and cheese. He walked the four blocks to the liquor store and picked up the wine, though he had no idea what he was getting.
Idaho sat down and watched TV and the clock. At 5:00, he took a shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He had a place in mind for dinner, and it wasn’t fancy. He didn’t think she’d like anything fancy. At 5:30, he started to pace. At 5:50, the doorbell rang.
He took a deep breath, went downstairs, locking the door behind him. As he came down the stairs, he saw her through the glass door. In the twilight, she was pretty, with her shoulder length black hair but her severe face, as if she was holding something in. He opened the door and smiled at her. She smiled back, looking a lot prettier.
“Hi,” he said. Should I kiss her?
“Hi,” she replied. Should I kiss him?
They stood there awkwardly for a minute.
“At least I have all my clothes on,” he said.
“Uh huh,” she said, and blushed.
He put a hand through his hair. “Well, right. Okay. I know this nice little Thai restaurant a couple of doors down. Do you like Thai food?”
“I haven’t tried it.”
“It’s like Chinese.” He offered his arm. She slipped her arm in his, and they started walking. They were in silence for a little while.
“You don’t have a car?” she asked.
“I live in the city. I use a bus. Or I get rides from the guys at work.”
“And you do construction?”
“I’m a welder.” He smiled. “I have my own torch.”
“Ah,” she said. “How come you’re in Boston and not in Paragon City?”
“Long story.”
“Tell me over dinner.”
“Deal.”
They arrived at the restaurant. After they settled in, and Idaho ordered appetizers, she gazed at him for a minute. “I’m not going to let it go,” she said. “How come you’re not a hero?”
“I was a hero,” he said quietly. “Then I fell in love with a hero who was more…heroic than me.”
“Oh,” she looked at her plate.
“I couldn’t keep up with her. And then she got a Kheldian in her, and she went to Grandville to take on Lord Recluse, and everything changed.” He fiddled with his fork. “I tried to keep up with her, but I couldn’t. She let it take over her life. I was just added baggage.” He made an encompassing move with his arm. “So it was easier for me to just come up here and be a regular person.”
“Do you miss it?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Do you miss her?”
He looked at the plate. “Sometimes. But she’s happier doing what she’s doing, and she really doesn’t need me.”
“Did you really love her?” She blushed. What kind of question is that, Diane?
“She was my first love. Well, my second, if you want to count Pill.”
“Pill?”
“Pilanequay. She found me when I was first in Paragon. She sort of raised me.”
“You said you were a clone, though. Were you…born?”
“I was made,” he said. “In an Arachnos tank that was used for creating Fire Tarantulas.”
“That explains the fire.”
“Yes. My original doesn’t have fire.”
“What does he have? Is he a hero, too?”
“He was. He could encase himself in stone and take a few good hits. I don’t know what he’s doing now.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Masonry.”
“Never heard of him.”
“That’s okay, he…sort of died.”
“Sort of died?”
“And was brought back to life. I told you it’s a long story.”
She looked confused. Well, she thought, this is Paragon City, after all. Stranger things have happened.
He sat back. “Okay, enough about that. Now you.”
“Me?”
“Uh huh. I don’t know much about you. I know you’re a hero in Paragon, and that you manipulate fire, and that you’re a mutant. What else is there about you? Do you have a job? Do you have a family?”
“I don’t really work, I mostly study. For the hero exams, and magic stuff.”
“Why magic?”
“It’s something I don’t understand.”
“You probably never will. I don’t understand a lot of it myself.”
“But you have it all over you.” She motioned to his arms.
“It’s protection. And help. And strength. And power. And other things.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So what about your family?”
“I have a mom and dad, and a brother. We do heroing together.”
He smiled. “That’s nice. And you live in Paragon?”
“In Steel Canyon.”
“Nice area. Not so rough.”
“Why don’t you come back?”
Their food arrived, and Idaho let out a breath. Perfect timing. They started eating, and he hoped she would have forgotten about the question. But she didn’t. She asked him again.
He sighed. “Too many bad memories there. My original is still there. My enemies are still there. I don’t know where my ex-girlfriend is, but she might still be there. I really don’t want to go back and be a hero.”
“You could help. They’re always looking for help.”
“You be the hero,” he snapped.
She looked down, chastened. He softened his gaze, reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she said. “I probably sound like your ex.”
“Hm, maybe a little.” He let go of her hand, and she watched him pull back. He smiled at her. “So I was thinking maybe a movie?”
“I didn’t see a movie theater around here.”
“That’s the thing, you’re going to have to drive.”
“Oh, is that it.” She smiled at him. “I can do that.”
Idaho paid, even after she protested, and they walked out of the restaurant arm in arm again. “Where are you parked?” he asked.
“Two streets over. Finding parking here is a bitch.”
“Welcome to Boston,” he replied, as they started walking. They ended up walking along the Charles River. It was dark, and the street lights were relatively dim. He stopped, pulled her to him.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he said, and kissed her.
They broke from the kiss, and she put her head against his chest. “Me too.”
“The hell with the movie,” he said. “Want to come back to my place?”
She looked up at him. “Sure.”
This time, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. They walked back to his apartment. She entered the kitchen/entrance/foyer and turned around. “Kind of small.”
“It’s only me,” he said, taking her coat. “I don’t even have a kitchen table.”
“I can see that.”
“I don’t do much cooking, anyway.” He had to get next to her to get by her to go into the living room/bedroom area. He looked at her, then started to scoot by her. She put her hands out automatically and touched his hips. He stopped in the doorway, and she put her arms around him. He bent and kissed her again, long, deep. He backed her up against the door frame, pressing his body against hers. She pulled her arms up and embraced his back, pulling him closer to her.
They broke the kiss, and he bent to kiss her neck. He licked around her earlobe, and she gasped. He lifted his head, and looked into her eyes. Both of them were breathing heavily.
“I…I can’t.” He stepped back. “I’ll hurt you.”
“Huh?” she blinked. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“If ….when…I get excited, I…go up.”
“Most men do,” she said with a smile.
“No, I mean, up…in flames. I burn.”
Diane moved closer to him. “I’m a mutant and I use fire. Do you think fire hurts me?”
“Huh, um, well…”
She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Let’s try it.”
He indeed went up in flames. So did she, enjoying every minute.
They lay in bed, entwined in each other’s arms. “Fireproof sheets?” she asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Where did you get those?”
“Paragon. Only place they had them.” He traced the outline of her breasts.
“Hey, that tickles.”
“Sorry.” He nuzzled closer against her. “Will you be going back to your friend’s?”
“I have to go home.”
“Why don’t you stay the night? Say you were with your friend for another night.”
“I don’t like to lie.”
“Okay, tell the truth, then.”
She turned to him. “Was I okay?”
He blinked. “Of course you were!”
“It was…my first time…”
He raised himself on his elbow and gazed into her eyes. “It was?”
She nodded, blushing. He scooped her up in his arms. “I hope I was good enough for you.”
“Oh, you were. You really were.” They kissed again, and hands roamed.
He stumbled down the street. Okay, it was another Friday night, and like all the other Friday nights, he went to the bar with the guys he did construction with. And like all the other Friday nights, he got so drunk he could barely stand.
Luckily, he didn’t have to drive home. Someone would point him in the general direction of his home and he would find his way, most of the time. Once or twice he found himself in the park down the street, and once in an alley way with his wallet missing. He knew he shouldn’t do this, but he did.
He looked up at some bright lights and saw a Starbucks was still open at 1 am. Maybe if I get some coffee I’ll sober up, that’s what I’ve heard. He knew he wasn’t anywhere near his house because he didn’t remember a Starbucks…
He went inside. There were college students in all the comfy chairs. College, where is there a college…?
Cambridge? How did he get so far away from home? Think, think. Frankie had a car. They went across the Charles River Bridge. They were supposed to pub crawl in Somerville. Where the hell was Frankie?
He patted himself down – he had lost his cell phone again. He felt his wallet in his back pocket. He pulled it out and counted the money – not enough for a cab. When he saw Frankie Monday, he was going to put a two-by-four up his nose.
The barista was staring at him while he thought all this through. He focused on her and said, “Coffee. I don’t care what. Black.”
“Right away, sir,” she said, and poured some dark liquid from the spigot. He paid her, tasted it and immediately grimaced. Strong shit.
He turned from the counter and surveyed the area. There was a large chair right next to a dark haired woman reading a huge book. He made a beeline for it. As he did, he happened to look over the shoulder of the woman and saw the illustration in the book.
“That symbol means strength with mercy,” he said.
The woman looked up, her blue eyes boring into him. “How do you know?”
He lifted his arm and showed her a tattoo. Entwined within a bunch of tattoos on his arm, he traced the symbol out for her.
She peered at his arm, at the intricacies of the tattoos. “This…this is all magic.”
“Shh,” he said. “Not here.” He sat down next to her. “There’s a lot of…weird people here.”
She looked down, and he pushed down his long sleeve to cover the arm again. “Do you have a lot of tattoos?”
He nodded. “All over.”
“How come?”
He sipped the coffee again, and closed his eyes in disgust. “At first it was defiance. Then I found a purpose.”
“What?”
He looked sideways at her. “It’s a long story.”
She closed the book. “I have all night.”
“Unfortunately, this place closes at 3. And I have to find my way home.” He sipped again.
“You’re lost?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I remember crossing the Charles, but after that…”
“Where do you live?”
“Brookline.”
“In the city?”
“Yeah. It’s not pleasant, but nobody bothers me. Much. What about you?”
“I don’t live around here.”
“Where are you from?”
“Paragon City.”
He stared at her, stunned, for a minute. “You’re a long way from home this late at night.”
“I’m staying with a friend. I wasn’t tired.”
“Oh.” She was actually kind of pretty, if severe looking. She looked like someone you wouldn’t want to tangle with or cross. But underneath, he could sense something warm about her, but it was under so many layers of protection that she wouldn’t let it out. He held out his hand. “I’m Duncan Idaho.”
“Diane Cook.”
They shook. She had a very firm handshake. She was strong, he liked that.
“So what other tattoos do you have?”
“Maybe they’re in this book. Is it a grimoire?”
This time it was her turn to look stunned. “Yes…”
He reached for it, and pulled it toward him. She sat closer to him, and they paged through the book together. He pointed out some symbols that he knew he had, and they discussed symbols that maybe he should have gotten. Idaho could tell she was burning to know why he was covered in all this magic, but he wasn’t going to tell her.
Then they started talking. He didn’t want to ask about Paragon City, but she talked about it anyway. I don’t want to go back there, he thought. The more they talked, the more he realized he liked her. And the more he realized he liked her, the more he forgot his first love, Aestas, the reason he left Paragon City.
“Last call!” yelled the barista.
The two of them looked at each other. “Almost three already?” She got up and stretched, smiling at him. He got up as well.
“I guess I’d better get across that bridge somehow.”
“I have a car, I can take you home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. I don’t know if I’ll still have a parking spot when I get back…”
He helped her into her coat, and they walked out of the Starbuck’s together. He walked with her down the street a little. He stopped suddenly, and she took two steps and stopped. “What’s wrong?”
He tilted his head. Something felt wrong. His back prickled, which was a harbinger of the direction of the attack, part of the magic. He heard footsteps. He whirled around and burst into flame. His clothes turned to dust.
Behind him a gang of about six kids with assorted weapons stood at the ready. He crouched, and then saw fire out of the corner of his eye.
Diane stood next to him, a flaming shield on one arm, and a flaming sword in the other hand.
“Shit!” the gang yelled almost in unison, and ran.
Diane and Idaho looked at each other, one encased in flame, one brandishing fire.
They both said together, “You’re a hero?” Diane laughed first, and then Idaho joined her. As he laughed, his fire died out, and he stood before her, naked. He looked down and covered himself. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she said with a smile, and took off her coat. He used it to cover his front, but nothing could cover his back. “I’d better take you home.”
“Hopefully nobody sees me…”
They made a mad dash to the car, and she unlocked the door, letting him in. He gasped at the coldness of the leather seats. She climbed in next to him. “You should wear a fireproof costume under your clothes.”
“I usually don’t do that,” he said as she started the car. “I mean, fire up. I only do it if I’m threatened, I’m usually very controlled.”
“Are you a mutant?” She eased out of the parking spot.
“No, I’m a clone.”
“There’s another one of you running around?”
“He doesn’t burst into flame. It’s a long story.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight. I hope I get to hear these long stories.”
He smiled, looked out the window. “I could see you tomorrow, maybe.”
“Duncan Idaho, are you asking me out on a date?”
“I think I am.”
“Well, considering you’re a naked man in my car, we're intimate enough that you don't need to ask me.” She grinned at him but was blushing.
He grinned as well, “Good, tomorrow at…six?”
“Six is good.”
“And you’ll know where I live…” and he started giving her directions.
They parked outside of what looked like a simple brownstone house, but on the first floor was a boutique. “Shit, my keys, my wallet, everything went up.”
“Can you get in?”
He opened the door to the car. “I leave a key to the house in a hiding place. I’ve come home without my keys before.”
“Hey, wait, Duncan?”
“Hm?”
She leaned over the seat and kissed him. He opened his mouth to the kiss, and she kissed him deeper. He pulled away, blushing furiously.
She glanced down at his groin, but the coat was covering it. “Uh, I’m sorry, you, can, uh, keep that.”
“Good. Thank you. I’ll clean it for you tomorrow.”
“Uh huh.”
“Right.” They stared at each other for a minute, and then he turned away. He glanced both ways down the sidewalk and sprinted to a glass door beside the boutique. He opened it, and flicked on the light in the hallway. She couldn’t see where he bent to get the key, but he flicked off the light quickly and ran up the stairs.
Diane Cook, Pyrablade, smiled and shook her head. “Only in Paragon,” she muttered, pulling back out into the street.
Luckily, he didn’t have to drive home. Someone would point him in the general direction of his home and he would find his way, most of the time. Once or twice he found himself in the park down the street, and once in an alley way with his wallet missing. He knew he shouldn’t do this, but he did.
He looked up at some bright lights and saw a Starbucks was still open at 1 am. Maybe if I get some coffee I’ll sober up, that’s what I’ve heard. He knew he wasn’t anywhere near his house because he didn’t remember a Starbucks…
He went inside. There were college students in all the comfy chairs. College, where is there a college…?
Cambridge? How did he get so far away from home? Think, think. Frankie had a car. They went across the Charles River Bridge. They were supposed to pub crawl in Somerville. Where the hell was Frankie?
He patted himself down – he had lost his cell phone again. He felt his wallet in his back pocket. He pulled it out and counted the money – not enough for a cab. When he saw Frankie Monday, he was going to put a two-by-four up his nose.
The barista was staring at him while he thought all this through. He focused on her and said, “Coffee. I don’t care what. Black.”
“Right away, sir,” she said, and poured some dark liquid from the spigot. He paid her, tasted it and immediately grimaced. Strong shit.
He turned from the counter and surveyed the area. There was a large chair right next to a dark haired woman reading a huge book. He made a beeline for it. As he did, he happened to look over the shoulder of the woman and saw the illustration in the book.
“That symbol means strength with mercy,” he said.
The woman looked up, her blue eyes boring into him. “How do you know?”
He lifted his arm and showed her a tattoo. Entwined within a bunch of tattoos on his arm, he traced the symbol out for her.
She peered at his arm, at the intricacies of the tattoos. “This…this is all magic.”
“Shh,” he said. “Not here.” He sat down next to her. “There’s a lot of…weird people here.”
She looked down, and he pushed down his long sleeve to cover the arm again. “Do you have a lot of tattoos?”
He nodded. “All over.”
“How come?”
He sipped the coffee again, and closed his eyes in disgust. “At first it was defiance. Then I found a purpose.”
“What?”
He looked sideways at her. “It’s a long story.”
She closed the book. “I have all night.”
“Unfortunately, this place closes at 3. And I have to find my way home.” He sipped again.
“You’re lost?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I remember crossing the Charles, but after that…”
“Where do you live?”
“Brookline.”
“In the city?”
“Yeah. It’s not pleasant, but nobody bothers me. Much. What about you?”
“I don’t live around here.”
“Where are you from?”
“Paragon City.”
He stared at her, stunned, for a minute. “You’re a long way from home this late at night.”
“I’m staying with a friend. I wasn’t tired.”
“Oh.” She was actually kind of pretty, if severe looking. She looked like someone you wouldn’t want to tangle with or cross. But underneath, he could sense something warm about her, but it was under so many layers of protection that she wouldn’t let it out. He held out his hand. “I’m Duncan Idaho.”
“Diane Cook.”
They shook. She had a very firm handshake. She was strong, he liked that.
“So what other tattoos do you have?”
“Maybe they’re in this book. Is it a grimoire?”
This time it was her turn to look stunned. “Yes…”
He reached for it, and pulled it toward him. She sat closer to him, and they paged through the book together. He pointed out some symbols that he knew he had, and they discussed symbols that maybe he should have gotten. Idaho could tell she was burning to know why he was covered in all this magic, but he wasn’t going to tell her.
Then they started talking. He didn’t want to ask about Paragon City, but she talked about it anyway. I don’t want to go back there, he thought. The more they talked, the more he realized he liked her. And the more he realized he liked her, the more he forgot his first love, Aestas, the reason he left Paragon City.
“Last call!” yelled the barista.
The two of them looked at each other. “Almost three already?” She got up and stretched, smiling at him. He got up as well.
“I guess I’d better get across that bridge somehow.”
“I have a car, I can take you home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. I don’t know if I’ll still have a parking spot when I get back…”
He helped her into her coat, and they walked out of the Starbuck’s together. He walked with her down the street a little. He stopped suddenly, and she took two steps and stopped. “What’s wrong?”
He tilted his head. Something felt wrong. His back prickled, which was a harbinger of the direction of the attack, part of the magic. He heard footsteps. He whirled around and burst into flame. His clothes turned to dust.
Behind him a gang of about six kids with assorted weapons stood at the ready. He crouched, and then saw fire out of the corner of his eye.
Diane stood next to him, a flaming shield on one arm, and a flaming sword in the other hand.
“Shit!” the gang yelled almost in unison, and ran.
Diane and Idaho looked at each other, one encased in flame, one brandishing fire.
They both said together, “You’re a hero?” Diane laughed first, and then Idaho joined her. As he laughed, his fire died out, and he stood before her, naked. He looked down and covered himself. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she said with a smile, and took off her coat. He used it to cover his front, but nothing could cover his back. “I’d better take you home.”
“Hopefully nobody sees me…”
They made a mad dash to the car, and she unlocked the door, letting him in. He gasped at the coldness of the leather seats. She climbed in next to him. “You should wear a fireproof costume under your clothes.”
“I usually don’t do that,” he said as she started the car. “I mean, fire up. I only do it if I’m threatened, I’m usually very controlled.”
“Are you a mutant?” She eased out of the parking spot.
“No, I’m a clone.”
“There’s another one of you running around?”
“He doesn’t burst into flame. It’s a long story.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight. I hope I get to hear these long stories.”
He smiled, looked out the window. “I could see you tomorrow, maybe.”
“Duncan Idaho, are you asking me out on a date?”
“I think I am.”
“Well, considering you’re a naked man in my car, we're intimate enough that you don't need to ask me.” She grinned at him but was blushing.
He grinned as well, “Good, tomorrow at…six?”
“Six is good.”
“And you’ll know where I live…” and he started giving her directions.
They parked outside of what looked like a simple brownstone house, but on the first floor was a boutique. “Shit, my keys, my wallet, everything went up.”
“Can you get in?”
He opened the door to the car. “I leave a key to the house in a hiding place. I’ve come home without my keys before.”
“Hey, wait, Duncan?”
“Hm?”
She leaned over the seat and kissed him. He opened his mouth to the kiss, and she kissed him deeper. He pulled away, blushing furiously.
She glanced down at his groin, but the coat was covering it. “Uh, I’m sorry, you, can, uh, keep that.”
“Good. Thank you. I’ll clean it for you tomorrow.”
“Uh huh.”
“Right.” They stared at each other for a minute, and then he turned away. He glanced both ways down the sidewalk and sprinted to a glass door beside the boutique. He opened it, and flicked on the light in the hallway. She couldn’t see where he bent to get the key, but he flicked off the light quickly and ran up the stairs.
Diane Cook, Pyrablade, smiled and shook her head. “Only in Paragon,” she muttered, pulling back out into the street.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Grimaulkin raised his hands over his head, ignoring the dark sparks that erupted from his fingertips. He closed his grey eyes, focusing on keeping a woman’s image in his mind. The same woman was on a photograph at his feet. A black candle dripped methodically onto the picture. In his mind’s eye, he deconstructed the woman, making her lose her hair, then her eyesight, stooping her over, advancing her age.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the picture. The woman in the picture was now yellow, old, bent over with a look of pain. Grim took the picture from under the candle and held it over the flame. It went up in an instant.
Grim smiled, satisfied. He took the ancient dagger from the floor, and slashed over the circle drawn into the wood. Immediately he was assaulted by the heat of the summer, waiting for a cooling breeze from the sea at Nerva. He crossed the large studio and picked up a cell phone.
He dialed, glancing around the room. He focused on the door as it opened.
“Hello,” Grim said into the phone, and smiled and nodded at the person entering, “Mr. Caplin. Yes. Your ex-wife should be dead within two weeks. Yes, sir, very painful. No, sir, she won’t look like she did. Um hm. Yes. My methods are my own.”
The person who entered waited patiently, going over to Grim’s desk and looking at some of the flasks.
“I don’t think you need to know that. Just make sure that the money is in hand in two weeks. Of course. Pleasure. Good bye.” He flipped the phone closed and looked up at the red-haired man. “Of course, if he fails, he faces a worse fate than the one he paid me for.”
The man turned beautiful green eyes to Grim and grinned at him. “I was here earlier. Didn’t want to disturb you.”
“That’s okay. I can multi task.”
The man chuckled, kissed Grim’s forehead. “Not with magic.”
“Or other things,” Grim commented, patting the man’s rear.
“Hm. Don’t get me started. What were you planning on doing today?”
Grim sighed. “I’m still practicing on my offensive magic. But something’s blocking me here.”
“In the house? I felt no spirits.”
“No, in Nerva.” He walked over to the desk. “It’s like there’s not enough power here.”
“There are a lot of magic users here. There’s Thorns just to the north. They steal magic where ever they can get it.”
“That’s what it feels like. Like there’s a river and too many people are siphoning from it. It feels dry, weak.” Grim held open his hand, and a small awkward-looking sphere appeared in it. “I can’t even hold a form.”
The man leaned back against the desk. “Then maybe we need to go somewhere else.”
“I’m not going to Cap au Diable, too crowded. And Port Oakes is full of untrained wanna-be’s running around.” Grim started ticking off on his fingers. “Sharkhead is sterile, Grandville is possessed by Recluse and his cronies, and St. Martial is full of too much emotion to wade through. Where else can we go?”
The man smiled. “Paragon City.”
“Paragon?”
“How many powerful dark mages are there? They don’t touch dark magic because it’s not” He made air quotes, “’pretty’.”
“Hmph, but using magic to save people. Been there, did that, got the lectures.”
“You also got me.”
“Well, yeah, that was a bonus.”
The man moved away from the desk and went over to a book case. “You know, Paragon isn’t all that beautiful on the inside. Underneath all the pretty parks and heroes in spandex…” He gave Grim a suggestive wink, “is a lot of corruption and decay. Not all heroes are perfect. They all need someone to knock them down a few pegs, and what better way to do it than from the inside?”
Grim stroked his goatee, as he did when he was thinking. “You might be right, Dysio. Paragon needs to know how imperfect it really is.”
“Mmhm. And besides, they have bigger buildings.”
“True.”
“I kinda miss Steel Canyon. And the university. And all those football players.”
“Did you do them all?” Grim asked slyly.
“Even the coaches.”
“Nice…” Grim came up behind him. “Were they tasty?”
“Not as good as you,” Dysio replied, and embraced him. “So what do you think? Go back to Paragon?”
“I think I might. I’ve made a name for myself here, but I think they’re catching on to me.”
“That’s the problem with dark magic, it leaves residue no matter what you do.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help with that.”
“But you’ve given me spells and abilities that these stupid Thorns can’t even fathom. They can’t trace some of the work I’ve done. They know it’s dark magic, but they don’t know it’s me, and that’s a plus.”
“But they know you’re a dark mage. You’ve made no secret about that.”
Grim glared. “I won’t make a secret about that, nor will I make a secret about my choice in sex partners.”
Dysio knew he pressed a soft spot with Grim’s pride. He liked to see Grim mad sometimes. It brought a new dimension to their coupling. Dysio bent down and kissed Grim gently on the lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Hm.” Grim couldn’t stay mad for long, especially in the arms of his lover. He rested against Dysio’s broad chest, silver chains scratching his cheek. “Maybe I will go back.”
“Good,” Dysio said with a wicked smile. “Very, very good.”
He opened his eyes and looked down at the picture. The woman in the picture was now yellow, old, bent over with a look of pain. Grim took the picture from under the candle and held it over the flame. It went up in an instant.
Grim smiled, satisfied. He took the ancient dagger from the floor, and slashed over the circle drawn into the wood. Immediately he was assaulted by the heat of the summer, waiting for a cooling breeze from the sea at Nerva. He crossed the large studio and picked up a cell phone.
He dialed, glancing around the room. He focused on the door as it opened.
“Hello,” Grim said into the phone, and smiled and nodded at the person entering, “Mr. Caplin. Yes. Your ex-wife should be dead within two weeks. Yes, sir, very painful. No, sir, she won’t look like she did. Um hm. Yes. My methods are my own.”
The person who entered waited patiently, going over to Grim’s desk and looking at some of the flasks.
“I don’t think you need to know that. Just make sure that the money is in hand in two weeks. Of course. Pleasure. Good bye.” He flipped the phone closed and looked up at the red-haired man. “Of course, if he fails, he faces a worse fate than the one he paid me for.”
The man turned beautiful green eyes to Grim and grinned at him. “I was here earlier. Didn’t want to disturb you.”
“That’s okay. I can multi task.”
The man chuckled, kissed Grim’s forehead. “Not with magic.”
“Or other things,” Grim commented, patting the man’s rear.
“Hm. Don’t get me started. What were you planning on doing today?”
Grim sighed. “I’m still practicing on my offensive magic. But something’s blocking me here.”
“In the house? I felt no spirits.”
“No, in Nerva.” He walked over to the desk. “It’s like there’s not enough power here.”
“There are a lot of magic users here. There’s Thorns just to the north. They steal magic where ever they can get it.”
“That’s what it feels like. Like there’s a river and too many people are siphoning from it. It feels dry, weak.” Grim held open his hand, and a small awkward-looking sphere appeared in it. “I can’t even hold a form.”
The man leaned back against the desk. “Then maybe we need to go somewhere else.”
“I’m not going to Cap au Diable, too crowded. And Port Oakes is full of untrained wanna-be’s running around.” Grim started ticking off on his fingers. “Sharkhead is sterile, Grandville is possessed by Recluse and his cronies, and St. Martial is full of too much emotion to wade through. Where else can we go?”
The man smiled. “Paragon City.”
“Paragon?”
“How many powerful dark mages are there? They don’t touch dark magic because it’s not” He made air quotes, “’pretty’.”
“Hmph, but using magic to save people. Been there, did that, got the lectures.”
“You also got me.”
“Well, yeah, that was a bonus.”
The man moved away from the desk and went over to a book case. “You know, Paragon isn’t all that beautiful on the inside. Underneath all the pretty parks and heroes in spandex…” He gave Grim a suggestive wink, “is a lot of corruption and decay. Not all heroes are perfect. They all need someone to knock them down a few pegs, and what better way to do it than from the inside?”
Grim stroked his goatee, as he did when he was thinking. “You might be right, Dysio. Paragon needs to know how imperfect it really is.”
“Mmhm. And besides, they have bigger buildings.”
“True.”
“I kinda miss Steel Canyon. And the university. And all those football players.”
“Did you do them all?” Grim asked slyly.
“Even the coaches.”
“Nice…” Grim came up behind him. “Were they tasty?”
“Not as good as you,” Dysio replied, and embraced him. “So what do you think? Go back to Paragon?”
“I think I might. I’ve made a name for myself here, but I think they’re catching on to me.”
“That’s the problem with dark magic, it leaves residue no matter what you do.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help with that.”
“But you’ve given me spells and abilities that these stupid Thorns can’t even fathom. They can’t trace some of the work I’ve done. They know it’s dark magic, but they don’t know it’s me, and that’s a plus.”
“But they know you’re a dark mage. You’ve made no secret about that.”
Grim glared. “I won’t make a secret about that, nor will I make a secret about my choice in sex partners.”
Dysio knew he pressed a soft spot with Grim’s pride. He liked to see Grim mad sometimes. It brought a new dimension to their coupling. Dysio bent down and kissed Grim gently on the lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Hm.” Grim couldn’t stay mad for long, especially in the arms of his lover. He rested against Dysio’s broad chest, silver chains scratching his cheek. “Maybe I will go back.”
“Good,” Dysio said with a wicked smile. “Very, very good.”