by SJD Peterson
“Yeah, I want to know everything about you,” Richard insisted.
“Okay, but you better get comfortable. It’s going to be a long story.”
Richard rolled over onto his side and snuggled up against Tikron, resting his head on Tikron’s chest. “Ready.”
Tikron kissed the top of Richard’s head. “The first thing I remember clearly was my mom sitting before the hearth as she asked me, ‘Do you see them?’ I didn’t see anything. So, she starts pointing and yelling, ‘Right there! And there!’ I’m looking, but seriously I didn’t see anything, but I wasn’t going to question her. So I squinted trying really hard, but it was no use. ‘Bugs!’ Mom pointed. ‘Giant bugs. Crawling on the walls. The ceiling.’”
“Eww, I’d be happy I couldn’t see them. I hate bugs.” Richard shivered.
“Just think about not being able to see them but there being a good chance they were real?” Richard shivered again, and Tikron couldn’t help but laugh. “Exactly.”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“So young. What did you do about the invisible bugs?”
“Mom wanted me to get the broom, open the front door, and shoo them out. I did as I was told. Who was I to argue? Everyone in my family saw things I couldn’t see. I knew eventually I’d be able to; at least I hoped and prayed I would. I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to be normal.”
“In my family, normal was algebra and quadratic equations being my playmates when I was four.”
“I don’t know if I’m impressed or heartbroken,” Tikron said gently.
Richard shrugged. “I guess a bit of both is warranted. But I’d rather hear about yours. So everyone had a special trait?”
Tikron pulled Richard closer. “Yes. My maternal grandmother could see the spirit world. She had regular sightings and conversations with supernatural creatures. She also found lost objects, healed minor illnesses, and predicted the future. I remember once we went to visit her. While we were there, one of Grandmother’s neighbors showed up at the back door. She was upset about losing a brooch or something. Grandmother sent me outside, but lucky for me it was summer and all the windows were open, so I got to witness the activities. My grandmother held the neighbor’s hands and chanted. Then she gave her a glass of some dark liquid, and apparently it wasn’t very tasty, because the neighbor’s face wrinkled up and she started gagging. Nearly gave myself away laughing. Anyway, Grandmother told her to go home and the location would be revealed in dreams.”
“And was it?” Richard inquired.
“I assume so. I never questioned her, simply believed in the magic. I was like a sponge trying to take every experience in because I wanted to be like them. Like my aunt who saw ghosts and omens. She always knew when someone was coming to call or if a letter was about to arrive. My other aunt regularly spoke to the dead.”
Richard lifted his head and met Tikron’s gaze. “Bugs no longer sound that bad compared to ghosts and zombies.”
“The dead, not zombies, you goofball.” Tikron kissed Richard’s nose, then encouraged him to lay his head back down. “My childhood was a time of adventure, opening myself up to not only the possibilities but the improbabilities. My grandmother pointed out fairies in the grass, the elf that lived under the bridge, an angel she saw one night granting wishes in a cornfield. I never saw anything, but I believed it was there.”
“What about your dad? How come you never talk about him?”
“I didn’t know him. He died when I was a very young child.”
“But I thought you were immortals?”
“Yes and no. It’s the magic and our connection to Mysdus that is key to our longevity. But it’s also a choice. My mom doesn’t like to talk about my father. It’s a very painful subject even all these centuries later. She loved him beyond reason; at least that’s how my grandmother defined it. She didn’t approve of him since he didn’t have a magical bone in his body. It wasn’t that Grandmother disliked him, but falling in love with someone outside the coven could be difficult and full of despair. Her fears were warranted. You see, my father loved my mom as much as she loved him. He accepted her magic if she agreed not to use it on him. It was a heartbreaking choice. Through her magic, he too would have been given immortality. Nonetheless, she loved him enough to make that promise. The really sad thing is, the witch hunters who gave me this”—Tikron ran his finger over the thick scar on his face—“are the same ones who killed him. I don’t know how my mom kept her sanity. She had to know that on some level it was her very existence that had been responsible for his death. My grandmother, however, was very wise and reminded my mom that he had chosen his path out of love for her and she should celebrate and cherish the time she had with him. I think Mom did, but not without great difficulty.” Tikron’s chest tightened painfully, ached for his mother’s loss and his own.
“Your mom sounds like an amazing woman. I don’t know if I could have done that,” Richard whispered. “To know you were the reason, no matter if it was directly or indirectly, for someone’s death.”
Tikron’s chest tightened further. “I know what it’s like.”
“I’m sorry. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Tikron considered it for a moment, then, in the end, although recalling it was painful, told Richard about his own heartbreak. “I was in love with a man who, after finding out about my peculiar abilities, ran from me. He ran right to the recruiter and joined the Army. Before I could find him, he died in battle.”
“Oh. God. I am so sorry for your loss,” Richard said sincerely.
“Thank you. Whenever I start beating myself up about it, Ry reminds me that Hank would have joined the Union Army, just like his brother, whether he learned about me or not. I know it’s probably true. Hank felt strongly about the cause, but I still can’t help but wonder.”
They were both silent for a long moment, holding each other, both needing the connection. It was several moments before Tikron kissed Richard’s head again because he could. He swallowed down the lump of emotions and cleared his throat, needing something else to think about other than death and loss. “Back to my childhood. Where were we?”
“Elves under the bridge and angels granting wishes in a cornfield.”
“Wow, you really were paying attention,” Tikron said, totally impressed.
“Of course. It’s fascinating.”
“Okay, so you have to remember the time I grew up. We didn’t have the internet or the understanding we have nowadays. Superstition and witch hunters ruled that era, so my family mostly kept our abilities to ourselves. We had to present ourselves as any other family. Mom had a few suitors since it wasn’t proper for a lady to be alone or to take care of her own affairs, so we kept a low profile. No one showed up at our door asking for predictions or remedies or help in finding lost jewelry. My aunt kept quiet about the visits the deceased made to her dreams, the visions she had in the parlor or outside in the courtyard, all the things she talked about freely with Grandmother. My family surrounded themselves in magic, relished it, perfected our craft, but we didn’t talk about it outside the coven. Mom said the world was too harsh, too mundane, too stupid to understand that we were special. My childhood was fun. We danced and sang. Even though I couldn’t see them, she and I built fairy houses in the backyard, said chants to keep the goblins away, and every night we left sweets on my windowsill for the pixies. Anything, everything, was possible. I was about eight when I saw my first ghost. I was so relieved to be normal that I dedicated myself to learning everything I could. In my preteen years, I began to embrace my skills more and more. After a lot of trial and error, I cast my first successful spell when I was fourteen.”
“What was it?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“Why would I do that?” Richard questioned.
“All right, but you better not laugh, or I’ll spank you,” Tikron warned.
Richard made an X over Tikron’s heart with the tip of his f
inger. “Cross my heart.”
“You’ll see. There was this boy. His name was Bobby. He was a local farm boy, with brown arms and a white belly I saw at the swimming hole. He had warts all over both his hands like a dusting of powdered sugar on his tan skin. I thought he was cute, but his hands….” Tikron wrinkled his nose at the memory. “Anyway, I ran home, retrieved Grandmother’s spell book and amulet. Bobby thought I was crazy, but he held out his hands, and I ran the amulet over every wart while I chanted the spell. I didn’t think it worked, and Bobby laughed at me, but I saw him that Sunday in town, and there wasn’t a single wart on him. He also wouldn’t look at me and never spoke to me again. I think I scared the bejesus out of him, but hey, we both ended up happy. Bobby was wartless, and I was officially a warlock.”
Richard lifted his head and met Tikron’s gaze. “Your first spell was Compound W?” Richard asked. He bit his quivering bottom lip, obviously trying to hold in the laughter.
“Compound W?”
“Yeah, you know, number-one dermatologist- and pharmacist-recommended wart-removal gel that you can find in any drugstore across America.” Richard shook with the effort to keep from laughing, but it was no use. “The wart stops here,” he hooted, then fell into a fit of full-on belly laughter.
Tikron rolled Richard and pinned him to the bed. “Oh, you’re going to get it now.”
Richard tried in vain to stifle his laughter, and it came out as an undignified snort, which, of course, caused him to crack up. The sound of Richard’s glee was music to Tikron’s ears, a melody he’d wondered if he’d ever hear. One he’d never tire of. The happiness on Richard’s face made him all the more handsome, and Tikron pressed his mouth to Richard’s, his merriment like sparks on Tikron’s tongue. An undeniable aphrodisiac, and Tikron deepened the kiss, pulling a deep rumbling moan from Richard. Suddenly Tikron forgot all about Richard’s punishment. Instead, he was much more interested in doing a little teasing of his own.
LYING in the darkened room, listening to the small snuffling from a sleeping Tikron, Richard was content and boneless. He was exhausted, yet he couldn’t sleep. His mind was wide-awake, going over the childhood memories Tikron had shared with him. It was at such odds with Richard’s upbringing. Tikron’s was wild and chaotic compared to Richard’s quiet, unemotional, and boring childhood. It wasn’t all that long ago that he’d have said he was proud of it. He’d attended the best schools taught by the best teachers, with parents who pushed and challenged him. A life filled with academia contributed to the respect and success he’d achieved in his chosen career.
Now he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d missed out on. Tikron had opened up a whole new world, one filled with wonder. Listening to the fantastic tales of Tikron’s childhood, Richard realized life didn’t have to make sense; it was much more fun when it was spontaneous. It was exciting not knowing from day to day what kind of adventure he’d be experiencing, and it sure was a lot more pleasurable filled with love. Loving Tikron was by far the greatest adventure Richard had ever experienced, and he couldn’t wait to—
Richard jerked upright in bed, his breath stopping dead in his chest. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but it was as effective as a fish trying to breathe out of the water.
Oh God, I’m falling in love with him.
No, that was impossible. He couldn’t be in love with Tikron. Love was a frivolous, baseless, pointless emotion. Yet even as he thought it, the crack Tikron had created in the wall around Richard’s heart grew wider. He tried to stop it, but it was like trying to catch smoke. The more he tried to convince himself he couldn’t possibly be falling in love with Tikron, the bigger the cracks grew.
You can’t tame the spirit of someone who has magic in their veins.
Chapter Twenty-One
TRUE love most often took time. It had to be cultivated, tended to, before it could bloom. While Tikron believed in love at first sight, it was rare. Most believed they’d experienced it, but they hadn’t. Not really. They failed to realize it had been lust at first sight that grew into love over time. The one luxury he and Richard didn’t have—time.
There was a very real possibility that his life would end, and he needed to make a plan. He didn’t want Richard to be there when it happened, and he needed to make sure someone would take care of Richard, just in case.
“Strangle place for a meeting,” Ry said, materializing out of nowhere.
Tikron looked out over the forest where he grew up, the place he’d chased pixies with his grandmother, then at Ry. “It seemed appropriate to talk about the end in the place it all began.”
“There will be no end,” Ry countered, sounding sure.
“Everything comes to an end eventually.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not happening today or on your birthday. It’s not going to happen for a very, very long time.”
Tikron shifted on the wide branch of the gnarled and twisted Methuselah tree and swung his feet, the thick bark of the five-millennia-old tree rough beneath his palms. Even it would one day end. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but we need to.”
“I don’t want to think—”
“I know,” Tikron repeated. “It’s a crappy subject. I get that. I’m not saying it’s going to happen today or even on my birthday, but eventually it will. Another threat, another knife, a natural disaster—anything could happen, and we should have a plan.”
“We live forever and you keep being my shithead of a best friend. There. Plan made, future solved.”
“I like that plan, but maybe we need a backup one too.”
“Okay, how about this. You talk to your mom and let her do what she wants to. You know it will destroy her if something happens to you.”
Tikron shook his head. “She’s a lot stronger than you’re giving her credit for. As much as she wants to save me, I can’t live in a world knowing she is miserable because of me.”
“Wow, talk about selfish,” Ry scoffed. “Your mom already carries the weight of your dad’s death on her heart. She’s tough, but I truly doubt she would survive the guilt of her only child’s death. Being married to Mysdus could never be as bad as that.”
“It’s not her fault!” Tikron’s voice rose, causing the birds in the forest to take flight. His anger at Mysdus was justified and he’d like to think he would never give in to the bastard’s demand, but he knew if the roles were reversed, he’d do it for her. “Christ, this situation sucks. Mom pays the price either way.”
“We have another option. Richard. The two of you seem to be getting along well. I can tell by the way he looks at you, he’s got it bad. Hell, he didn’t even seem to notice just how handsome I am. Which, I may add, under normal circumstances I’d be offended. But in this case, I’m glad he only has eyes for you.”
“Having it bad for me and being in love with me are two different things,” Tikron reminded him.
“Yup, so you better get busy and kick the charm into high gear. But just in case that doesn’t work, we should invite your mom and Mysdus to your birthday party.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” Tikron agreed. “But I need you to make me a promise.”
“I’m listening,” Ry said, sounding skeptical.
“If anything happens to me, take care of him.”
“You really do love him, don’t you?”
Tikron met Ry’s gaze unerringly. “I do.”
TIKRON had gone to see Ry, so with some time to himself, Richard used the opportunity to take care of a few things. First, he called and arranged to take time off work. He was sure everyone in the math department was talking, considering it would be the first time since he’d started the job that he’d taken so much as a single day off. Let them speculate and gossip as to the reason behind it. The truth would shock them as much as the very real possibility that he wasn’t ever going back. He just couldn’t see himself sitting behind a desk or in front of an audience talking about numbers, equations, or anything logical in light of his new rea
lity. Perhaps he never would again. He wasn’t going to make that decision today. He had two weeks off to decide. Work schedule taken care of, he grabbed his phone and a bottle of water from the fridge, then plopped down on the couch.
He opened the bottle, took a big swig, then fired up his phone and dialed the familiar number. It rang twice before he heard her voice. “Hello, son.”
“Hello. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Son, why must you ask me that each and every time you call? It should be quite evident since I have apparently answered the call. Secondly, since I answered in a generic manner rather than informing you of the timing, you can conclude that it is, in fact, an appropriate time.”
Richard bit his lip to keep from laughing. It was the same exact thing she said every time. At least some things in his topsy-turvy world hadn’t changed. “I ask so you have to repeat that response.”
“For what purpose?”
“Does there really need to be one?”
“Of course there must be a purpose, or what’s the point?”
Richard swallowed down his sigh. It wasn’t really his mom’s fault she sounded so confused. He was the one being different. “I thought I would just call to say hi and see how you and Dad were doing.”
“We are both well,” she said without emotion.
Two weeks ago Richard would have thought nothing of her response or the flat tone of her voice. Now he just found it sad. Sad that this had been normal. Sad that he’d never questioned it. Sad that his mom and dad had never once told him they loved him or showed emotion. The saddest part of all was he’d spent his entire life thinking it was okay. It wasn’t.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” Mom pointed out.
Again, Richard had to swallow down a sigh. “Mom, have you ever done anything on a whim?”
“Like?”
“I don’t know, something silly and spontaneous for no other reason than to have fun.”
