DISCLAIMER ==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2005 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002
The situation was bad and I didn't know how we'd managed to get ourselves in such a fucked up mess. Barely a week since he'd come stomping onto my grounds with his crazy demands and here we were one week later dealing with the repercussions. "This has got to end. I can't go on like this."
His gaze swung to me, brilliantly green in their intensity. "Hey, what about me? You think this has been a fucking picnic for me?"
"Fine. Have it your way." I amended my sentence. "We can't go on like this."
"Got that right, baby." Utterly unrepentant, the devil himself grinned at me, flashing his perfect pearly whites with the sharp canines just a shade too prominent in his wicked smile. After a silent pause, he continued unabashedly. "We certainly can't go on like that."
"Back in Black Falls, you promised me things would be different," I griped quietly. Contrary to what some sorcerers would say, it certainly wasn't in my nature to complain incessantly since it brought to mind disturbing images of my late Aunt Hester but the situation he'd just dragged me into was intolerable. If I had only known that things would turn bad so quickly, I would have stayed back home in Black Falls instead.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch, that's what all you witches are good for." The reply was just typical of him, and his well-known dislike of witches in general. His hands clenched into bunched-up fists as he eyed me through the edge of his narrowed eyes. There was a glint of growing frustration amidst the clear vivid green and I knew it wouldn't take much for his control to snap. He hadn't asked to be in this situation either but the fact didn't make it any easier for me to swallow.
"Saying that will get you nowhere with me," I warned him, utterly unafraid of the fact that he was bigger, stronger and at the moment, understandably meaner. Even without his full lupine strength, he could easily tear me apart with his bare hands but I was simply on a roll and nothing could stop me. When I was in one of my moods, Aunt Hester would call it the devil taking control of me as usual. "I'm already mad enough at you as it is without you casting vile aspersions on the witches."
"You're blaming it on me? What the bloody fuck!" Drawing back from me, he stared back at me, looking almost insulted at the accusation flung at him. The familiar eyes turned a shade greener, as impossible as it might sound. "You think I planned all this? Hell, I never meant things to turn to shit like that!"
I could just imagine what Aunt Hester would think of the man I'd chosen. All nasty attitude, mean temper and foul language - a little toned down for my sake but still. Certainly nothing like the cookie-cutter suburban witches she'd been shoving my way. No doubt Aunt Hester would have placed a hex on him. That cheery thought had me smiling in spite of the fact that I had been inadvertently trapped in this situation with him. "You know what, you deserve I should just leave you here."
"Calling it quits so easily?" Leaning back against the crate, he chuckled softly in dismissal of my complaints. "Nah, you wouldn't. You're too much of a bleeding samaritan to abandon me here." He finally released a sigh. "You know what, let's get rid of the prickless bastard. There's only one left and he's getting on my motherfucking nerves."
It would have been churlish of me to disagree when I'd been thinking the same some time since. I brought a hand to my cheek, catching a drop of blood. "You're right. I think I just got a splinter."
"What?" His smile turned wolfish. "Hell, he should be drawn and quartered!"
Fireballs rained around us causing sparks to dance around us, there were crates in flickering flames all around us and a thick smog had started swirling around us, and yet here I was hiding behind a stack of crates in an abandoned warehouse in Manhattan. A far cry for a mild-mannered bookstore owner from Black Falls. I sold the latest bestsellers, homemade candles and the occasional antique. What did I know of the secretive Cabal and their Machiavellian machinations? What did I know of slick city lawyers who turned into ravenous beasts of the night when the moon was full? What did I know of crazed, homicidal demons shooting fire from their upraised fingers?
Practically nothing. And yet here I was with my back against a crate with the Cabal enforcer beside me, an unconscious telekinetic on the floor and a rampaging fire demon tearing up the warehouse barely ten feet away. To my relief, Clayton wasn't exactly baying at the moon yet but I wouldn't put it beyond him to try. It was slick business suits all the way when I'd known him in the hospital but that had changed once he'd come over to Black Falls. The man's odd, and surprising, penchant for casual T-shirts with slogans had him wearing one with the words Wild Thing haphazardly emblazoned in red on a field of black. Surprising - and almost touchingly apt.
Still in the guise of the sexy pretty boy, he hadn't changed into full-fledged werewolf form yet. Maybe it was because I hadn't exactly gotten used to the fact that my brand new boyfriend turned into a slobbering canine once in a while to run loose in the shady forests, chasing furry creatures for dinner. But I figured the likelier reason would be the loss of control. Although in human form, he was still preternaturally stronger than most, in werewolf form, he was close to unbeatable. However in gaining the added strength and agility he needed, he would also release the wild, uncontrollable primal insincts inside and lose the needle-fine control he had over himself. It wasn't exactly a good idea for a new boyfriend to see him slashing open a guy's guts with his razor-sharp claws.
"Ready?" He turned to me with the dangerous light of anticipation in his green eyes. Staying safe under cover was unbearably frustrating for a man like him and it dawned on me that he was actually enjoying this altercation. The crazy bastard.
Looking at him, no one could imagine the sexy, green-eyed charmer as the Cabal chief's right hand man. Tough, aggressive enforcers who ate supernatural gangsta boys for breakfast didn't usually look as if they'd strolled out of a slick menswear catalog. That Manhunt pretty face belied the fact that he could intimidate a gang of demonic hoodlums with only one meaningful look. Those he couldn't intimidate quite as easily certainly learnt their lesson soon enough, as they found out the excruciating way that Clayton James had rightfully earned his reputation.
The fact that my new boyfriend was part of an organisation that I had been brought up to despise was one thing, the fact that he was occasionally called on to personally snap a few necks and spines was another. Both facts still rattled around in my head, facing squarely against my pacifist, peace-loving witch self. Not an easy position to be in but for now, such problems had to be shelved away for the time being. As I mentally readied some of my more offensive spells, I glanced over at Clayton.
No doubt Clayton would call his plain black tee and blue jeans boring, everyday wear but on that tight, well-muscled body, it looked sinful. His carelessly tousled black hair had been singed at the edges from the fire and he didn't look all too happy about that. There was no need to read his mind to know where his vengeful thoughts were leading. Blood.
Getting offensive certainly wasn't a problem for him. As I braced myself for our next move, he shot me a challenging grin and a thumbs-up sign. I had to pity the fire-breathing demon. Damned fool.
Incendiary Grazza was going to rue the day he was born - and two and a half decades later decided to make a protest by burning down a Soho foundry with the help of his buddy, the friendly telekinetic. We'd already disposed of the crate-tossing telekinetic barely minutes ago with the help of one of the few spells in Clay's repertoire and my arm wielding a handy wooden stick. Unfortunately before we could tag team the fire demon, he'd rained fireballs on us and we'd been forced to run for cover.
The smothering smoke would have shielded the demon from view but it couldn't hide him from my telepathy. Simple enough to lock onto his chaotic thoughts and wild meanderings just a few feet away from where we stood. If I had the time, I could have looked deeper to find his deeper motivations but time was a luxury I could ill afford. The brief glimpse I received from his frenzied mental processes showed some muddled images and ideas that I couldn't comprehend. Only the word Cabal came to mind and yet it wasn't a part of my father's Cabal.
Another cabal here in New York? There were questions I could have posed to Clay but I didn't have time to search for an answer. Not when the fire demon was deliberately causing havoc in the centre of Soho district. Even by the witches' covenants, the demon would have been brought down and contained before he could bring undue attention to the rest of the supernatural world. Unfortunately unlike the pacifist Coven witches, the Cabal's rules were simpler, more definite and far more elemental. Death.
Through his cell, he'd already alerted the Cabal who would stall the authorities in their own inimitable way - giving us some time to contain the problem till their arrival. It would be up to me to keep my ... boyfriend from having Grazza's thigh bone for dinner. Not an easy task but I had to try. Certain of my duties here, I sighed and slowly drew up. The memorized incantation flew from my lips the minute I sensed the blond-haired demon standing ten feet away in a clearing, enveloped in the encircling smog and darkness. The temperature cooled around him in response to my freeze spell. I wouldn't be able to cool his fires that easily but it would certainly be enough for Clay to mount an attack.
The smoke and the darkness didn't blunt Clay's keen senses at all and he leapt easily across the crates into the clearing. There was a loud yelp and the sounds of a scuffle as flames started pouring out from the ceilings. As I tried to squint, my vision blurred from the tears in my eyes and I could barely make out the demon gesturing away in the clearing even as Clayton shook him like a rag doll. Blood spattered the air and the smell of burning flesh reached my nose. A stream of fireballs shot randomly out of the scuffle, a few missing me by mere inches.
On any other man, the flames would have caused life-threatening third-degree burns but Clayton healed fast enough thankfully. My freeze spell certainly cooled down some of the flames. Clayton wasn't entirely impervious however and I could just imagine how painful those burns could be. Closing my eyes to concentrate on their position, I recited another incantation to help. The air slipped out of the demon's throat for a second and he started gagging helplessly for breath.
Just enough time for Clayton to coldcock him with a powerful punch that snapped his head around and sent the demon flying across the room into another pile of crates.
I jumped up from our hiding place. "Shit! Clayton!"
Even as he spun around from his combative stance to glare fiercely at me, the feral smile twisting those sexy lips softened almost imperceptibly. "Oh, come on, baby. That was barely a lovetap there."
"Asshole." Without the incendiary idiot, I chanced a cold spell to contain the fires. It worked partially, just enough for me to approach the clearing without singeing myself. Or the coat he'd lent me for the trip. "Lovetap? I think you probably broke his jaw there."
"But he burnt me, gave me an ouchie!" Those delicious lips edged into a pout. Imitating a child's vice, he whined, "I'm hurt. Aren't you gonna kiss it and make it better?"
"Shut it. You're not funny at all, Clayton." There was a low hum at the back of my head that told me that Grazza was still conscious, just barely, and he was in a world of pain. The telekinetic hadn't returned to consciousness yet and I could barely contain a sigh of relief. No matter what Clay might say about my crazy urge for danger, I didn't need to have another bout of flying objects intent on killing me.
Even as Clayton walked towards me, I could literally see the open burns closing and healing near miraculously. It still amazed me each time. He would suffer some slight pain for the next few days but in three days or so I knew he'd be as good as new. Good thing, this healing power.
Some guys got all the breaks. Enhanced senses, rejuvenated strength and youth, a talent for magic - and the looks of a matinee-idol to boot.
For me, I would have to boil a shipload of poultices just to treat the superficial burn on my arms.
He came up to me, grinning like a returning champion. So damned pleased to have squashed a vengeful demi-demon. "Damn, that certainly worked up an appetite. I'm hungry as hell."
That reminded me of lunch. We were just heading back with our lunch. Almost in concert, both of us looked down at the floor where we'd dropped the parcels in a hurry. A telekinetic and a fire demon hadn't left us much time to think. The thought of delicious fried mushrooms from Kwan's had only given him a minute's pause before he'd run for cover from the blazing inferno. Even a crazy werewolf/sorcerer ducked when a firestorm was heading his way.
Crouching down to gingerly pick up the remnant, I held up the takeaway Chinese we'd packed, now burned to an unrecognisable crisp. "Clayton. You owe me lunch."
"Come on, let's go home." He laughed.