Cataclysmic Shift

by Tara Lain

  “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I’m a good cook, and takeout works too. I’ll show you all the local places where the food’s good.”

  “I think I can watch the cooking channel.”

  “C’mon.” Luke walked into his bedroom with Alain and Amelia behind him. “Actually, you won’t have much time for cooking, because I’m going to offer you a job.”

  “You are?”

  Luke went into the bathroom, closed the door partway, and washed up. He changed into his sweats, then walked back into the bedroom to find Alain and Amelia sitting on his bed. Whoa, that looked way too good. He cleared his throat. “It’s Madeline’s idea. We need a helper at the clinic and thought you might be right for it.”

  Alain’s mouth hung open. “You mean work with animals?”

  “Yes. Understand we’ll give you all the shit jobs, literally. You’ll clean the cages, feed the animals, clean up the accidents, exercise the dogs, and whatever else we don’t have someone else to do.”

  He grinned. “That sounds like my dream job. But does that mean you can’t find who I belong to?”

  “Yeah. That is what it means. My friend in missing persons found no one of your description in his files.”

  Alain shook his head, a big crease between his dark brows. “That’s not good news. I must learn what I’ve forgotten.”

  “Yeah, I’m really sorry. But you seem to be remembering things a little at a time. I’m thinking you’ll suddenly just recall who you are.”

  “I should find somewhere to stay so I don’t inconvenience you.”

  “Sure. We can ask around and see if someone has a room to rent. You won’t make a lot of money, and finding something cheap isn’t a snap in New York. Even tenements cost a fortune.” He swallowed. “But you can stay here until we find another place or who you are, whichever comes first.”

  Of course, with Alain running around the apartment in his jeans and nothing else, the one coming first would be Luke.

  Chapter Five

  LUKE BUNCHED the pillow under his head and stared into the dark. Maybe Alain was a street kid and didn’t want to go back to it. He could be faking the whole amnesia bit just to have a roof over his head and some food. But that didn’t quite make sense. Luke had known a lot of street kids over the years, and Alain was nothing like them. Not defensive or suspicious at all. And tomorrow Luke would have him as a new helper at the clinic.

  He blew out his breath. What the hell was he doing? In the middle of his very private life, he now had a roommate. Not just a roommate, but one who worked with him, and every company in the world said not to mix business and personal. Was it temporary? How the hell would Alain ever earn enough money as a vet’s assistant and gofer to find a place to live in New York City? Jesus, what have I done? Alain was so nice and so easy to take care of. Maybe that was the ploy? He was a con artist? Right. What the hell did Luke have to con?

  He hurled himself on his side and punched his pillow. If the kid wanted to rob him, he wouldn’t have spent the damned day redecorating like Martha Stewart came to visit.

  Shitfire. He’d done himself in. Sleep now, and tomorrow he’d figure out how to get his life back to normal.

  “MEWWW.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Mewww.”

  Where the hell was that coming from? He wasn’t at work.

  Tiny daggers dug into Luke’s bare shoulder. “Ow. Amelia?” The kitten made a leap from his shoulder to the bed in front of him. “How did you get—” His breath stopped.

  The covers behind him rose. Draft. A body pressed down on the mattress. Then the draft went away. He knew just whose body it was. Holy shit, what was going on? “Uh, Alain?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “We were lonely.”

  Speechless. This kid could not be for real. He had to have a plot. The kitten insinuated her way between Luke’s hands and his chest, gave a sigh bigger than she was, and curled into a ball against his skin.

  Behind him, skin pressed against his back. Oh, dear God. Tell me it’s his shoulder and not his, uh, front.

  If someone touched him, he’d shatter. That was how rigid Luke felt. So this was Alain’s plan. Be a rent boy for Luke so he’d have a place to live and food to eat. Luke had even given him a job. He couldn’t blame him. Luke knew what it was like to have no home and no one to care about you—and he knew what it was like to be somebody’s rent boy.

  How would he tell Alain to go away? That he didn’t take advantage of young guys and he had no interest in a sexual liaison with him? Shit, that was such a lie. If that kitten moved down a few inches, she’d be lying on the most rigid cock on the planet. All Luke wanted was to turn over and shove that thing right into the cute asshole he’d seen displayed at the clinic. But it wasn’t gonna happen. Sorry, kid.

  “Alain?”

  Silence.

  “It would be better if you went back to your room.”

  Nothing—except the warmth against his on-fire skin. He listened. All he heard was breathing. He was afraid to move.

  Alain might get the wrong idea. If Luke picked up the kitten, he could jump out of the bed and throw Alain out. Nicely. Of course, the kitten would wail, and that would lose him some credibility.

  “Alain. Please go back to your room.”

  A sound. No, two sounds. From in front of him came purring. From the back? The soft snuffle of a snore.

  Shitfire.

  OH MY God, turn off the lights. Luke opened an eye. The sun. No, please. What time had he finally fallen asleep? After counting ten thousand purrs and five thousand snores, that’s when! He should have tossed them both out, but how could he reject two creatures who came to him because they were lonely? Hell, everyone’s lonely, aren’t they? Admittedly, last night he hadn’t felt alone, just frustrated and impossibly horny.

  He struggled up to a sitting position. Where the hell were his sleeping companions, since sleeping was clearly the only thing they had in mind? The bedroom door was ajar, and some soft tune drifted in. Also, the smell of coffee. Kill, thrash, claw for caffeine.

  He swung his legs over the side and managed to stand, then hobbled into the bathroom. After a pee, shower, tooth brushing, and pulling on some jeans and a cotton shirt, he felt like he might live. He walked into the living room—and stopped.

  Alain lay on his side in the middle of the floor in a wash of sunlight pouring in through the window. Amelia lay beside him in a similar posture. Alain wore jeans and a T-shirt Luke had bought him, his long hair bound at his neck with a rubber band, and he looked approximately good enough to eat. With a flip he turned on his back and batted at a beam that flashed in from a nearby window. He was singing.

  “Sur le Pont d’Avignon. L’on y danse. L’on y danse—”

  He looked up over his head, beamed a smile brighter than the sun he lay in, and rolled bonelessly onto his stomach. “Good morning. Did you sleep well? I followed the directions and made you coffee. And we’re ready to work, Amelia and I.”

  Even when Luke wanted to kill him, he wanted to kiss him. That was a very big problem. “Did you find the couch uncomfortable for sitting?”

  Alain looked around at the spot of hardwood he lay on. “The couch doesn’t have sun.”

  “Of course.” Luke shook his head and walked into the kitchenette, where the enticing smell of coffee cured all ills. He grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filled it from the coffee carafe, and sipped. “Holy shit, this is good.”

  Alain had moved to the couch despite the lack of sunlight. He grinned. “I’m a good reader.”

  “What were you singing?”

  He cocked his head. “Something I learned as a child, I think.”

  “Sounded French.”

  “Makes sense with my name.”

  “But you don’t remember anything?”

  He shook his head. The severe hair showed off his high cheekbones and pointed chin. Almost too pretty to look at. “No, just random thoughts that
don’t seem to make patterns. It’s troubling.”

  “Do you think you speak French?”

  “Hmm. Possibly at one time, but my thoughts are in English.”

  Luke sipped his coffee. Damn, it was good. “By the way, I’m hosting my men’s group here tonight. You can join in or stay in your room, whichever you like.”

  “I’m a man. I’ll join in.”

  “Well, it’s my gay men’s group.”

  He smiled. “I love things that are gay!”

  Did he mean something different? “I think it’s better that you, uh, and Amelia sleep in your own room, okay?”

  “Oh, okay.” He got up and walked into his room. Was he upset?

  Alain walked back out of the room holding a windbreaker from their shopping trip and a small carry bag they had bought at the pet store. He loaded the tiny critter into the bag, arranging her so she could peek out. He looked up at Luke, who was finishing his coffee. “Tonight you can come and sleep with us.”

  THE COOL blue fire leaped up in the brass bowl. Killian floated his hands through the flame.

  “Gods of fire and gods of air,

  “Look up your child right here.

  “Grant my will and grant my wishes.

  “Find familiar, Aloysius.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Blaine flopped on the couch behind Killian, who sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace. “You don’t usually do witchy hocus-pocus stuff. You just blow shit up.” He laughed.

  “Yes, I’m the Schwarzenegger of witches.” Killian reached into the flame and pulled out a little ash, focused his mind on it, and cast it into the fireplace. The ashes swirled and rose in a spiral. “But sometimes the old ways work best. This is an ancient spell. I just made up my own words.” He grinned over his shoulder at his gorgeous husband. “So let’s leave early. We’ll take the car. I’ve asked the spell to lead us to Al.”

  “We’ve got the men’s group.”

  “Hopefully we’ll have plenty of time to do both, unless Al has taken off for London.”

  “Hmm. I wouldn’t mind a trip to England. Make love to you beside the Thames.”

  Killian scooted back until he leaned against the couch and looked up at Blaine. “Me too, but it seems we have more battles to fight before we can rest.”

  “Damn. Witches sure are killer on vacation schedules.”

  “I’m so sorry, my darling. I know it’s hell being married to a witch, and you never signed on for this.”

  Blaine flipped onto his stomach and rested his chin on Killian’s shoulder. “Are you kidding me? You’re my soul mate. That means that everything you are and do, I signed up for somewhere in the great quantum logs in the sky.”

  Killian rubbed his cheek against Blaine’s. “I’m so lucky to have found you and that you would want a creature like me.”

  Blaine turned his head and kissed Killian’s ear. “So let’s go find our soul cat.”

  They gathered up the containers of spinach dip Blaine had made and headed for the car. When Killian had bought the retail building that contained their apartment, he’d converted one of the warehouses to a garage for his baby, the electric sports car. While he liked to live modestly, he made an exception for the little vehicle.

  With the dishes in the space in back and Blaine beside him, Killian sat behind the wheel, turned on the car, and focused to energize the spell.

  Blaine looked over at him. “What’s it like?”

  “Sort of internal GPS. Just watch where we’re going, because I’ll be responding to prompts but won’t have any idea where we are.”

  “My baby, you’re so weird. Let’s go.”

  Killian backed out. Okay, inhale. His hands moved like they’d been surrendered to an unseen driver. He turned left, then right, then kept driving straight down a street in a neighborhood realtors would have called transitional. It had been rough but now was gentrifying in spots. Old buildings stood in sharp contrast to renovated brownstones with colorful flowers in boxes. An urge to turn right washed over him, and he followed the propulsion of his nervous system. How long had they been driving? The car began to slow. Slower. It pulled over and seemed to park itself by the curb just forward of an overflowing garbage can.

  Killian shook his head. He peered out the window. “This is it. Aloysius must be somewhere around here. It doesn’t seem like we drove far, so maybe he’s on his way back home. Where are we?”

  Blaine scratched his head and stared at Killian. “We’re parked outside Luke Elliot’s apartment building. The place we’re going for the men’s group.”

  “What the hells?” Wait. “Maybe he found Aloysius and he’s going to surprise us when we go in.”

  Blaine’s face lit up like a Yule tree. “Oh God, do you think so? Come on. Let’s go in.” He was out on the sidewalk in a flash.

  Killian climbed out, took a deep breath to get back in his body, and walked over beside Blaine. “Don’t get your hopes up. It could be a coincidence. Maybe Al’s just passing through on his way home.”

  Blaine frowned. “This isn’t exactly a straight line from the veterinary clinic.”

  “You know Al.” He didn’t want to rob Blaine of his hopes, but magic was tricky, and so was Aloysius. As they walked up to the building, Blaine looked around in the bushes. Killian took his hand. “Remember to be cool. There’s no way to explain why we think Al’s here.”

  Blaine blew out his breath. “Yeah. I’ll remember.”

  A quick look at the ancient elevator sent them to the stairs. The stairwell wasn’t awful and smelly like in a lot of New York apartments, just sort of plain. When they got to the fourth floor, Blaine led the way down a short hall to number forty-six. The door was decorated with a plaque showing a semi-impressionistic picture of a cat. Nice touch for a vet. They had a picture on their apartment door too. Great minds must run in similar channels.

  Blaine knocked, and the door opened immediately. Yep, there was that too-handsome guy again. Luke wore his oddly dark hair pulled back, and the black glasses outlined those gray eyes. Quite lovely.

  Luke smiled. “Hey, you made it, Killian.” He shook hands with Killian, then nodded to the containers Blaine carried. “I’ll take those off your hands, Blaine.”

  “Nah, that’s okay. They’re balanced. I’ll take them to the kitchen.” He searched around and behind Luke.

  Luke glanced behind himself. “Anything wrong?”

  “Oh no. Just admiring your, uh, wood floors. I’ll take these in.”

  Luke followed Blaine. Killian closed the door behind him. What a nice place. A painting of a blue dog offset the lavender flowers in the vase in the small entry. An old shag rug that looked like it might have been handmade decorated the wood floors. He loved details like that. Sort of reminded him of his old place before he moved in with Blaine—the apartment he’d decorated with used furniture and castoffs just to prove to his mother and the community that he didn’t have to use witchcraft or much of his family money to be comfortable.

  A few steps brought him into the living room. Though the building was obviously old, the room was nicely arranged and decorated. So Luke had even more in common with him and Blaine. Both he and his husband loved decorating, and this apartment reminded him of his own home. Not as luxurious but reminiscent.

  Three other men he didn’t know were already in the apartment—a tall, thin man with glasses, a cutie with a bunch of muscles, and an older man with a beard. One at a time, they noticed him and turned to stare until the conversation ceased. He smiled and raised his hand in a wave. “Hi. I’m Killian Barth, Blaine’s husband.”

  Blaine looked over from the small island that separated an even smaller kitchen, where he’d just handed the spinach dip to Luke. He walked to Killian and spoke softly. “I don’t see him, and I’m sure Luke would have said something by now.”

  “I’m sorry, darling. He probably just walked through the neighborhood as we drove up.”

  Blaine sighed. His head came up, and he glanced over his
shoulder. “Oh, sorry. Killian, this is Bill Truding.” Mr. Tall and Thin. “Homer Garfinkel.” The beard. “And Rock Penser.” How appropriate. The muscles.

  Killian smiled. “I’m glad to meet you all.”

  Rock had the least cool in the group, or maybe the least connection with Emily Post. “Man, Blaine said you were gorgeous, but he didn’t get close. She-it, you are beautiful.” He spread his hands and stared at the other men. “What are the chances we’d meet two guys who look better than movie stars in one night? I’ll bet the odds are over the moon. Bigger than Powerball.”

  Killian glanced around. “Excuse me?”

  Rock pointed at the archway that framed what looked like the hall leading to the back of the apartment.

  Killian caught his breath.

  Walking into the living room carrying a pile of place mats and napkins was a guy. But what a guy. Young and staggeringly beautiful. Black hair, pale marble skin, and eyes so blue they almost glowed.

  Killian looked up and met Blaine’s wide eyes. Even his human husband could see it. Killian gave a slight nod and threaded out a ripple of power. It tested and probed. Amazing. The creature was human, but no human ever looked like that. The odds, as Rock would say, were off the charts.

  The boy was hurrying across the room with his burden. He seemed to notice the quiet first. He lifted his head, and his gaze met Killian’s. His mouth opened. He frowned and cocked his head. For seconds he just stared while everyone stared at him; then he shook himself and smiled softly. “Hello. I’m Alain Bellarose. Who are you?”

  “I’m Killian Barth.”

  “Do I know you?”

  Killian smiled. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  Luke came across the room, and the spell snapped. “Alain, Killian’s a college professor, so maybe you met him when you were in school.”

  “Oh.” The boy didn’t take his gaze from Killian’s.

  Killian gazed back. There was a story here. “Did you go to Manhattan University, Alain?”