by SJD Peterson
Everything made sense.
Magic was real.
There didn’t have to be a logical—or any other type of—reason.
It just was.
Magic was real.
Richard looked over at Tikron. A sweet, sincere smile made him all the more handsome, and Richard couldn’t help but smile back. Tikron had gone above and beyond to ingratiate himself into Richard’s life. No matter how hard Richard had fought him, Tikron never gave up, not through aggression or malice, but through compassion and care.
The heaviness wasn’t the only thing disappearing. As he stared at Tikron, felt Albert resting against him, a crack formed in the wall around his heart and a brick fell away, leaving the structure weakened and in danger of collapse.
Dogs have a magical ability to find the people who need them the most.
Chapter Sixteen
“ONE glass of ice water with lemon,” Tikron announced. He handed the glass to Richard, then sat next to him on the couch.
“Thanks.” Richard took a sip. He set the glass on the side table and went back to rubbing Albert’s back. Albert had slept all day in his preferred spot on Richard’s lap, and Richard seemed perfectly content to have him there.
Albert wasn’t the only one feeling the lingering effect from his ordeal. Tikron had used a massive amount of energy conjuring the spell to heal the little guy. Fortunately, Richard had barely left the couch and let Tikron share his space and allowed him to doze off and on.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just wiggle your nose or wave your wand, rather than walk all the way into the kitchen?”
“Sure, but I like doing things for you. Plus, I needed to stretch my legs. And just so you know, I don’t use a wand.”
“Oh, I guess I just assumed witches used wands.”
“I have the wrong bits to be a witch.” Tikron chuckled. He stretched his legs out, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “The only witches and warlocks I know who use wands are characters in books or on TV.”
“We should watch one,” Richard suggested.
“I didn’t take you for someone who got into fictional fantasy.”
“I’ve never believed in wasting my time on them, but I also never believed in magic until just recently. Maybe it’s time to broaden my horizons.”
Tikron patted Richard’s knee with one hand and grabbed the remote with the other. “Oh, are you in for a treat.” He clicked on the TV and ran through the choices. Richard subscribed to basic channels only, so the options were limited. There wasn’t a single show being aired that depicted witches in a light manner. It would be days before Tikron fully recharged from the spell he’d conjured to save Albert. His magic wasn’t boundless. His physical being limited what he could handle, and at the moment, he was nearly drained. But he had enough juice for a little TV magic. He dropped the remote, waved his hand. Bewitched season one, episode one. While Samantha didn’t use a wand, instead her cute wiggling nose, some of her colorful relatives did.
“See, those are the kinds of things that would make life so much easier,” Richard commented, then settled down further in the couch.
Careful not disturb Albert, Tikron settled against Richard, enjoying the warmth of his body. “You’re taking this new reality really well.”
Richard turned his head and held Tikron’s gaze. “Who am I to ever question you or your abilities again?” He looked at Albert, then back at Tikron with a gentle smile. “I’m just thankful I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry Albert had to go through it, but I’m glad I was there and even happier that you believe me.” He stared at Richard for a moment longer, then leaned in closer and brushed his lips against Richard’s. They were warm, soft, pliable, and Tikron couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. He slid his tongue along Richard’s bottom lip until Richard opened and invited Tikron in. He groaned his approval as Richard gave as good as he got. The kiss went on and on. His body heated, hardening until his jeans pinched uncomfortably. He slowly ended the kiss and leaned back. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the lingering flavor of Richard’s sweet mouth. “Damn, I’m glad you were wrong.”
Richard blinked several times, and Tikron couldn’t help but feel a little cocky that he’d left the man speechless. After a few seconds Richard finally caught up and said, “Oh, you mean about you?”
Tikron nodded, then resumed his previous position stretched out next to Richard. “Now how about a little Bewitched.”
“I’d rather have another little kiss.”
“Anything you want.” Tikron pecked Richard’s smiling lips. He would have loved nothing more than to keep kissing Richard, tasting him, touching him. But he knew Richard wasn’t ready to put Albert down, and to continue risked injury to certain body parts, not to mention the pain of being left unfulfilled. He really wasn’t complaining—much. He would have Richard in his arms soon enough. He could wait a little longer.
Not much longer, a little voice in his head whispered.
He didn’t need the reminder. One didn’t simply forget a deadline that would have one pushing up daisies in two short weeks. He was proud he’d been able to change the hard-and-fast logical Richard and prove that magic was real in such a short period of time. Yet Tikron wasn’t so arrogant to think he was out of the woods. He was wise enough to know that winning Richard’s heart would be much harder.
LONG after the kiss had ended, Richard continued to taste Tikron and felt the phantom press of lips against his. The show on the television was cute. One main character, Darren, was discovering his new bride, Samantha, was a witch. She had an adorable way of wiggling her nose. When the program ended, Richard wasn’t sure what all she’d done to convince her husband of the truth. He’d tried to follow along with the storyline, but his thoughts strayed toward Tikron. He kept watching the man out of the corner of his eye and wishing Tikron would kiss him again. Tikron had dozed off, making small snuffling noises, giving Richard the opportunity to openly stare and take in the man next to him.
For the first time, Richard noted the numerous small white scars on Tikron’s jaw and neck. Richard wondered if they were from the same blade that had left the larger one, or had another left its mark? He’d witnessed the gentle side of Tikron—the person who went out of his way to save the life of a small dog. But what else did Richard really know about him? Was there a dangerous side, as the scars would suggest? And was the disfigurement really the result of someone trying to kill something they viewed as inhuman and evil—or because Tikron was evil?
He’d do well to keep that thought in the back of his mind going forward. While he was beyond ecstatic that Albert had been healed, would it come at a price, and if so, how expensive would it be?
Didn’t it stand to reason that if white magic existed then the same could be said of darker, malevolent magic? If a person could practice one, could they not practice the other?
He frowned as he continued to stare at Tikron, struggling to grasp the totality of the situation he found himself in, knowing on some level he should fear Tikron’s powers, yet on another unable to envision him as a nefarious being.
“I can smell the smoke from here.”
Richard jerked, waking Albert. The pup lifted his head, yawned, then leaped down off Richard’s lap. He padded across the floor to his water dish. Richard watched him for any signs of distress, and finding none, he turned his attention back to Tikron. “I don’t smell anything burning.”
“You were thinking so hard smoke was coming from your ears,” Tikron teased. “Want to share what had you frowning so hard? You really can ask me anything you want to know.”
“Would you tell me the truth?”
Tikron sat up and shifted on the couch until he was facing Richard. “I can make you a promise right here, right now. I will never lie to you. You may not always like what I have to say. You may even have a hard time accepting what I tell you. But I can assure you, it will always be with complete and utter honesty.”
As Tikron
spoke, he looked directly into Richard’s eyes without flinching. Richard couldn’t explain it, but something in Tikron’s tone and the way he looked at him made Richard believe him. So he went right to the one thing he suddenly needed to know the most. “Do you ever practice in black magic?”
“Never,” Tikron responded without hesitation. “Me and my coven are held to very high standards. The use of black magic isn’t tolerated, and to ever attempt it is a possible death sentence.”
“From who?”
“Mysdus, the leader of Feara Luirg clan. All those beneath him, including me, have a direct tie to him. He doesn’t know everything we do; it’s not like he’s watching us every second. He doesn’t need to. Our very existence is connected to him, and the power it takes to conjure black magic is like sending up a beacon—an instant alert of wrongdoing.”
“But there are evil ones?”
“Yes.” Alarm zinged through Richard. Tikron apparently picked up on his concern, because he quickly added, “Your average person can be evil too, Richard. It’s possible within any high-thinking being. But just like nonmagic folks, we have a force who hunts down, tries, and prosecutes those who break the law.”
“And do you kill them?”
“If the crime so warrants it, yes.”
Richard considered Tikron’s statement. Understanding quickly replaced Richard’s initial outrage.
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes.”
The one-word answer took Richard aback. He wasn’t sure how to process it. He was sitting next to a killer, whether justified or not. Someone had died at Tikron’s hands. He looked down at the hands that had gently rested against a dying dog, and Richard simply couldn’t wrap his mind around those same hands snuffing out a life. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he simply said, “I see.” But he really didn’t.
Tikron took Richard’s hands in his. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. You have nothing to fear. But I promised complete honesty. Just so you know, I never killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me. War makes men and women do things they wouldn’t do under normal circumstances.”
Relief washed over Richard. War. Of course that made perfect sense. “Were you deployed to Iraq?”
“No.”
“You’re not old enough to have served during Desert Storm.”
A strange expression crossed Tikron’s features—part amusement, and the other part, Richard didn’t recognize. “You’re not, are you?” Richard asked when Tikron said nothing further to elaborate on his service.
“A wee bit older than that,” Tikron hedged.
Richard did a little mental math. If Tikron was old enough to have served in the military during Desert Storm, that would put him well into his forties. While he didn’t have so much as a crow’s foot around his eyes, it wasn’t unheard of. There was a simple way to find out. “How old are you?” He picked up his glass and brought it to his lips.
“Three hundred and forty-nine.”
Richard sucked in a shocked breath, pulling water into his lungs. He instantly started coughing, water running down his chin and splashing over the sides of the glass onto his shirt.
Tikron patted him on the back. “Easy there.”
Once the coughing fit passed, Richard squeaked out harshly, “You can’t be serious.” He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, then his shirt, and set the glass back on the table.
“Quite serious. In fact, I’ll be three hundred and fifty in two weeks.”
Richard shook his head. “No. No. No. No! That is not possible.”
Tikron arched a brow. “That’s what you said about magic.”
“I know what I said. You don’t have to remind me, but… but….” His head began to throb. Christ on a stick. With every interaction with Tikron, a new detail emerged that seemed even more outrageous than the last. Three hundred and fifty? Seriously? Just…. Wow! Richard finally threw his hands up. “That’s it. No more!”
“You wanted the truth,” Tikron reminded him.
“Yes, I know I do, but holy shit! Three hundred and fifty? Jesus, Tikron. Combine that with everything else you’ve laid on me lately….” He went to his feet, gesturing wildly with his hands as he paced. “I finally have a guy interested in me and he turns out to be a three-hundred-and-fifty-year-old warlock who can bring animals back from the brink of death and manipulate his surroundings with a nonwand-wielding hand. To be quite honest, I don’t know how many more new discoveries my brain can handle.”
“I—”
“None! That’s how many. Zilch. Zip. Zero!” His voice rose in hysteria. “Three hundred and fifty years old. What is happening!”
That was it. His brain had officially reached its capacity for shocking shit. It was going to explode and ooze out his goddamn ears. Or…. He threw up his hands again. Done. Just done. “Whatever.”
Tikron rushed over, standing in front of Richard, halting his movements. Before Richard could slip away, Tikron grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me. C’mon. Focus on me and breathe. One deep breath at a time.”
Only then did Richard realize his heart was hammering so hard it was about to leap out of his chest and he was panting rapidly and harshly. Oh God. He was going to hyperventilate. Which might not be all that horrible, because it would knock his ass out.
“Deep breath. In through your nose and blow it out slowly through your mouth.”
Tikron followed his own instructions, and before long Richard took up the same steady rhythm. His pulse and breathing slowed to a normal pace. The crisis over, he stared at Tikron and contemplated the man in front of him. “Damn, you’re hot for an old geezer.”
Richard then just cackled, the kind of sound one could hear echoing through the halls of the loony bin. Appropriate, since he was on the fast track to a padded cell.
Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.
Chapter Seventeen
“I THINK I broke him.”
“Okay. Now go away,” Ry grumbled.
Tikron flipped on the light. “No, it’s not okay. I seriously think I broke Richard.”
The lump beneath the covers next to Ry moved, but before his guest was revealed, Ry snapped his finger and the lights went out. A second snap and Tikron and Ry were in the living room.
Ry flopped down on the couch, propped his feet on the coffee table, and patted the cushion next to him. “Okay, c’mere and tell me what happened.”
Tikron sat next to Ry, shifting so he was facing him, then relayed the story of how he saved Albert and how he’d finally gotten Richard to believe in magic. Through his telling of the account, Ry stared at Tikron with a thoughtful expression on his face, listening intently. When he was done, Ry just continued to stare at him.
“Well?” Tikron prompted.
“I’m impressed. You basically trumped death. That’s a frickin’ herculean effort. I’m surprised you’re upright.”
“Yeah, it zapped me pretty good. I dozed on and off most of the day.”
“You do realize you’re going to have to explain to Mysdus and the rest of the council why you did that. You’ll be lucky if they don’t revoke your mojo card, at least for a while.”
“No, they won’t. I didn’t break any laws. It was a canine, not a human, and besides, this is Mysdus’s fault. Let him try it. I’m sure the council would love to hear the bullshit he’s pulling on me.”
“I guarantee you they already know. It’s total bullshit, but not one of those old geezers has the balls to stand up to him.”
Tikron nodded. It was true, and he couldn’t say he really blamed them. What could they do? None of them were as powerful as Mysdus individually, and getting a bunch of old bureaucrats to work together was a joke.
“Anyway, it sounds like it was a good day with Richard. Nothing you said explains how you broke him. Unless….” Ry waggled his brows. Tikron slapped his thigh. Hard. Ry yelped, then started laughing. “Guess I’m the only stud in this room.”
�
�Uh-huh. Sure. I wasn’t talking about that. He started asking me all kinds of questions, like if black magic was real and if I had killed anyone.”
“Wow, that’s some deep shit right there. I suppose your dumb ass told him the truth?”
“Of course I did. I’m not going to start another relationship based on lies.”
“There is a difference between omission and lying,” Ry pointed out. “Hank was not your fault.”
Just hearing Hank’s name caused Tikron’s chest to tighten even after all these years. He’d tried to bury that part of his past, and for a while, he had been successful. But perhaps Mom was right. It was time to pull those old painful memories out and deal with them. Because how could he expect Richard to give him his whole heart if Tikron didn’t have the same thing to give in return? Easier said than done.
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. The end result is still the same.” Hank was dead, and no amount of wishing, hoping, or magic was going to change that.
“You’re right,” Ry agreed. “But you can’t know he wouldn’t have joined the Union Army even if he hadn’t found out about who and what you were. It was an intense time.”
Tikron went to his feet, nervous energy surging through him, and he started to pace. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I need to figure out what to do about Richard.”
“Okay,” Ry said gently. “So you told Richard about black magic. What else?”
