Cataclysmic Shift

by Tara Lain

  Was she dangerous? And to whom?

  He knew! And the answer was yes.

  He raced down the hall and flew through the door of the classroom before the female could make a move. Two students leaped out of his way. “Hey, buddy. Watch it.”

  “Sorry.” He looked around wildly. Yes. Sammy. The young man packed paints and materials into a tackle box. God, his sense of connection to the boy was almost as strong as that to Killian and Blaine. Why?

  No time to wonder. He pushed through the exiting students to get to Sammy. “Hi.”

  Sammy’s eyebrows flew up. “Alain?”

  “Uh, yes. You said I could visit.” Gods, what should he say?

  Sammy grinned. “Sure. Of course. I just thought we’d plan it. Want to take a tour or go for coffee?”

  Alain shook his head.

  “What’s wrong?” The crease between his eyebrows spoke of seriousness and intent.

  “There’s a female outside the classroom who means you ill.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “It’s happened before.”

  “What can we do?”

  Sammy frowned. “Alain, you’re—I mean, you don’t have to be involved in this.”

  He frowned. “But I am. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to protect you.”

  Sammy nodded and pulled his cell phone from his jeans. He dialed. “Hi, darling. There’s someone outside the classroom waiting for me, Alain says…. Yes, he’s here. I think Killian’s at school. Call him too. They wouldn’t dare take us all on in broad daylight. At least I hope not…. Yes, we’ll wait here.” He smiled. “I’ll be careful. I have my paints.”

  He hung up and carefully unlatched his box of paints. He grabbed an empty canvas from a stack by the wall and a piece of charcoal from the box and started drawing the room.

  Alain sat on the edge of a table. “Sammy, what are you doing?”

  “Uh, kind of capturing the scene.” He suddenly frowned and stared at Alain for a second, then looked back at the easel. He drew some more and frowned more deeply.

  Flash! Alain’s brain lit up with a vision—a room full of people. Fire and light. A battle. Life and death. Sammy painting on a wall. He gasped. “I know something about this, don’t I?”

  “You may.” Sammy kept drawing, but he looked worried.

  “Was I there when you painted? Who are you to me?”

  Sammy turned and gazed at him. “I can’t tell you. That’s for Killian to do, and this isn’t the time. We may be in serious danger. This isn’t going quite how I expected.” He balanced the charcoal in his hand and started drawing again, then shook his head.

  “Yes, I understand.” Alain hopped off his perch and walked toward the door of the nearly empty classroom. He needed to help. Things were not going well for Sammy. A distraction would be good.

  “Alain, stay back, please.”

  “She doesn’t know me. I can distract her from you.”

  “It makes no difference if she knows you. You’re too—” He stopped.

  Alain glanced at Sammy. “Too what?”

  “Obvious. You’re looking suspicious and stealthy. She’ll catch on.”

  Hmm. Is that what he meant to say? “Okay.” He put his shoulders back and sauntered into the hall, turning left, away from the main entrance. The female was still there, though she’d moved into the classroom across the hall. Alain kept walking, but he could feel her gaze on him. Good. As long as she was watching him, she wasn’t focused on Sammy.

  Oh! He felt it. Power like a wall in the air. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. Killian and Ryder strode down the hall, looking like characters in a western movie he’d seen on Luke’s TV. All they needed were white hats and guns.

  Alain slipped into another empty classroom and peered out. Killian stood outside the door of Sammy’s art studio, and Ryder disappeared inside. Killian folded his arms and seemed to stare into the classroom across the hall where the female had been waiting. A moment later, Ryder reappeared with Sammy beside him, carrying his art supplies. They turned right and walked toward the entrance. Killian whirled and walked backward, staring intently. Then they went left and were gone.

  It took two beats before the woman popped her head out of the classroom and stared after them. She still held the phone to her ear. In the quiet hall, Alain could make out that she spoke in a language other than English. Oddly, some piece of his brain seemed to recognize the words, but he couldn’t hear well enough to understand.

  He pressed back against the wall. He could leave through the side door, but she’d see him in the hall. Damn. He’d like to catch up with Killian, Sammy, and Ryder. He needed to get some answers—somehow his life depended on it.

  He waited until he heard movement, then looked. She stepped down the hall on cat’s feet. Hmm. After a moment, she rounded the corner toward the entrance and vanished.

  Alain ran to the side door, out into the warm sunlight, and around the corner. Gone. No woman. No Killian and Sammy.

  He took a deep breath. The sense of pressure, almost pain, that had filled him as he ran here to protect Sammy was relieved. But he felt like a marionette, controlled by some unseen strings that made him dance. If he was going to have a happy life with Luke, he had to know the truth about this compulsion. Who was he, and most of all, what was his relationship to these men he felt he had to protect?

  He pulled out the phone Killian had given him and hit the number that had been programmed to dial the professor. The phone rang.

  Killian’s lilting voice. “Hello, Alain. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Sammy explained that you were probably still in the building, but we had to get him away, and I didn’t want to show the female your association with me.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “And one I must hear.”

  “Yes. Some of the males you have met will be at Blaine’s and my home this evening. I believe you know where it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Why don’t you join us?”

  His heart battered against his ribs. “Can I bring Luke?”

  A pause. “It would be better if you didn’t. Just explain you’re meeting with Jimmy, Sammy, and Ryder to discuss the college. That’s not an untruth.”

  Close enough to one—but he had to know. “All right. What time?”

  “Seven is fine, but come when you can. Sooner or later. It’s important.”

  “I’ll see you tonight. Thank you.” He hung up. A shudder ran up his spine. How terrible that this most important night was something he couldn’t share with Luke. What did that say about their future?

  DUSK. OH gods, how am I going to do this? Alain reached up and scratched Amelia’s chin. It relaxed him.

  Luke waved at Amy behind the desk and closed the door to the clinic. “So, want to grab some dinner on the way home, or shall we cook something?”

  “I, uh, can’t eat now. I’m meeting Sammy and Ryder to talk about the college some more. Would you take Amelia?”

  Luke looked surprised. “Oh. I guess your tour today went well.”

  “Yes. I just want to discuss what I might study and… things.” He handed Luke the kitten.

  Luke smiled. “Maybe I can give you some advice too. I’d love to know what you’re interested in studying.”

  Alain swallowed. “I think they’re just fitting me in between appointments. Maybe I can arrange a double date with them some night. You’d like them a lot. Do you want me to bring home some takeout?”

  Luke took the cat and balanced her on his shoulder. He gazed at Alain for a moment. “No. That’s okay. I’ll stop on my way home.”

  Alain could feel his hurt. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Have fun.”

  Gods, he wanted to take it back. He wanted to go home with Luke and cook and snuggle—but maybe tonight would finally give him the freedom to do that. “See
you later, alligator.” He smiled and hopped up to kiss Luke’s nose.

  “You gotta stop watching old movies.” Luke laughed and sauntered off toward the subway.

  Alain walked in the direction of the college until he rounded the corner. Then he ran to the next intersection and turned right toward the antique district where Killian and Blaine lived. When he finally came to a stop, he was by the pocket park where he had pretended to be a cat to lure the black-haired woman and her companions away from Killian and Blaine’s house, though he hadn’t known it at the time. Now he was here. Invited. He blew out his breath and walked to the door in the sidewall where the woman had lurked. A small plaque by the bell said Genneau/Barth. He rang.

  Killian’s voice sounded. “Come on in, Alain.” A small click and Alain pushed open the door. How did the professor know it was him? He shook himself. He was expected, of course.

  At the top of the long flight of stairs, he paused. This was the moment. Everything could change beyond this door. Still, he had to know.

  At his gentle tap, the door opened immediately. Killian himself. He smiled. “Come in.”

  Alain followed the professor through the small entry into a living room so beautiful it made him catch his breath. A mix of very modern furniture with antiques that felt quite familiar. He looked around. Actually, this whole room felt familiar.

  Killian was watching him.

  Alain cleared his throat. “It’s a very beautiful home.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  He looked beyond the familiarity of the decor. Blaine sat in a comfortable chair, with Sammy and Ryder on the couch opposite him. Jimmy Janx occupied the other chair.

  Killian indicated the sofa. “Please, make yourself comfortable. We have wine, beer, champagne, and all manner of soft drinks.”

  “Champagne, please.”

  Killian grinned and winked at Blaine. “Told you.”

  Alain cocked his head.

  Killian smiled at him. “We thought you enjoyed that Kir Royale you had the other night.”

  “Yes, I did. Very much.” Oh, wait. “On second thought, I should probably have a soft drink. Luke believes I’m at the college with Sammy and Ryder. It would be hard to explain alcohol on my breath.”

  Ryder smiled. “We could easily have gone for a beer.”

  “No, that’s okay. Thank you.”

  Blaine leaned forward. “Alain, we’re really sorry to ask you to prevaricate with Luke. But when you hear what we have to say, I think you’ll understand why.”

  Killian brought a can of ginger ale and a glass with ice. “Are you hungry? Did you eat?”

  He shook his head.

  Blaine got up. “You go ahead, baby. I’ll get something to snack on.”

  Alain watched Blaine walk out of the living room, probably toward the kitchen. “You and Dr. Genneau have such a splendid relationship. I’d like to have one just like it.”

  “You might have such a relationship.” Killian looked very serious. “Alain, please tell us what you’ve managed to remember.”

  “Can’t you just tell me?”

  Killian smiled kindly. “You first.”

  He blew out a stream of breath. It was all so strange. How did he describe it? “I clearly remember being a young man much as I am now, and yet the time does not seem to be this time, nor does it appear to be this place. I remember an estate, horses, pastures, and a farm boy.” He smiled. “But if you asked me to find that place, I couldn’t do it.”

  Blaine brought in some cheese and crackers. Beside it, he set a dish of what looked like salmon. Oh yes. Good. Alain took the little fork on the plate and scooped as much salmon as he could get on a cracker. “Thank you.” He brought the cracker to his mouth, ate off the salmon, and put the cracker on his napkin.

  Sammy giggled. Alain looked up. Was what he did odd? Killian took the bowl of salmon and the fork and handed them to Alain. He smiled. “Eat this. It’s your favorite.”

  Alain gazed into those lovely, mystical eyes, took a forkful, and slid it into his mouth. He sighed. “I do so love salmon.” He glanced at Blaine. “How did you know?”

  Killian put up a finger. “We’ll tell you in a moment. Please go on with your memories.”

  “Aside from those pastoral ruminations, my thoughts are full of flame, heat, lightning, and snatches of scenes that seem to include all of you. But the scenes are mostly pictures, not much language.”

  He took another forkful of salmon, chewing carefully. “Above all, I’m driven by an irresistible compulsion to protect and defend.” He pointed a finger at Killian. “You.” He did the same to Blaine. “You.” He turned to Sammy. “And today, for the first time, you.” He puffed his cheeks. “And also Luke. But the terrible thing is that Luke doesn’t want my protection. He wants me to let him care for me. He doesn’t want me making a big fuss when he prefers to live a quiet and inconspicuous life. I want to promise him I’ll do that, but I can’t while I’m being driven by this need to protect all of you.” He took the last forkful of salmon and rested it on his tongue. He sighed. “Why do I love this salmon so much?”

  Blaine spoke softly. “Because Killian and I fed it to you at least three times a week for all the time you were with us.”

  What? His heart stopped. “With you? You mean I lived here with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why haven’t you said so? Why did you not claim me?”

  Killian held up a hand. “Stop. We’re ahead of ourselves.”

  “But—”

  “Alain, in your life that you remember—the pastoral one—were there any witches?”

  “Witches?”

  “Yes. Humanlike beings, probably women, who could do things of power that ordinary people couldn’t do?”

  What the hells? He cleared his mind, and pictures started to flow in. “There was an old lady who treated people with herbs. The children called her a witch and tried to treat her badly, but I wouldn’t let them. She was a fine lady and didn’t deserve their injury.” Where had that memory come from? He rested his forehead on his hand. “And there were others who the church burned. It was horrible. I tried to stop them, but even my noble family was not as powerful as the church.” He shook his head. The stench, the screaming. “Horrible. Horrible.”

  Killian put a hand on his arm. Tingles like electricity crawled up his skin. Wham! A scene flashed in his brain. A room with stone walls and all the windows covered. Incense burned in braziers. She was there. All the others she had told to leave, and they had gone. “I remember a woman. Yes, oh gods. She came to me. I was sick with influenza. They said I would die. She spoke to me, saying I was a good boy, and though she could heal me, she wished to give me a greater gift. She laid her hands on me and… I remember nothing more. What? What could have happened?”

  Killian rested his other hand on Alain’s arm. “She was a witch. Just as I am, and Jimmy and Sammy are.”

  Alain raised his head and stared at Killian. “What? You’re—that’s madness.”

  Killian gazed at Alain. He reached out a hand and twirled a finger. A delicate, antique Chinese vase rose from the end table, flew through the air, and landed gently on the dining room table beyond.

  “What in hells!” Alain jumped back and huddled in the corner of the couch.

  “Don’t be afraid. It’s just the way life is. Witches exist and always have. We’re a different species, though we can mate and breed with humans. Actually, Jimmy, Sammy, and I are all part human.”

  He felt like his head was about to fly off. Still, it wasn’t altogether a new idea. “Wh-what about Blaine and Ryder?”

  Blaine grinned with that humor that always seemed to bubble just below his surface. “I’m just a plain old garden-variety human.”

  Alain stared wide-eyed. “But you believe what Killian and the others say about witches?”

  “I didn’t at first. I’m a scientist, and witchcraft was way too much for me. But I got too many clear demonstrations to be a doubter anymor
e. And I love Killian, so I had to accept what he is. It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

  He looked at Ryder. “But you aren’t human, are you?”

  “No.” His green eyes glistened.

  “Are you another variety of witch?”

  “I’m elven.”

  “What?”

  “It’s another race of beings. We don’t mix much with humans or witches, but I’m a maverick.” He tightened his arm around Sammy’s shoulder.

  Alain frowned and stared at Jimmy. “Can you do such tricks?”

  Jimmy flicked a finger, and two books rose off the coffee table and did a little dance in the air, then returned to their places.

  “Holy gods.”

  Sammy laughed. Alain turned his stare on the young man. “And you can too?”

  “No. I don’t have many of the regular witches’ powers.”

  Ryder nuzzled him. “Just the extraordinary ones.”

  Sammy smiled. “My power is tied up with my painting.”

  Alain sucked in breath. “That’s why you started drawing when I told you about the woman?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes widened. “And she’s a witch?”

  “Yes. A very powerful one. And she has a sister witch who’s also quite talented.”

  Deep breath. “The black-haired woman I lured away with my meowing.”

  Sammy cocked his head and smiled. “Meowing?”

  Killian held up a hand. “Long story.” He looked at Alain. “You try to protect us, Alain, because that’s what you’ve always done. You’re one of us.”

  What? “I’m a witch?”

  “Rather like. You’re a witch’s familiar. One who magnifies the power of a witch.”

  “But I feel no such power.”

  “That’s because you’ve changed form, and in this persona you don’t have that power.”

  Sammy nodded. “And man, do I know it.”

  Killian looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “I never realized how much Al’s power was involved in mine. I haven’t done much prophetic painting for a while”—he glanced at Killian—“since I’m not supposed to. But when I started that drawing today, I realized the power just wasn’t the same. I think because there’s no Aloysius.”