by R. L. King
It didn’t matter tonight, though—tonight was for relaxation, and maybe something more if he met the right person. Perhaps Mihas would be back in town. Even though the two of them had drifted apart, he still wore the amulet the other mage had given him.
The club he’d chosen was called Potmě, which meant In the Dark. It was on the top floor of an ancient building in Vinohradská, with all its windows covered by black shrouds. The only illumination came from a skylight high above, the lights from the band and the dancers, and any spells the customers wanted to cast. The place catered to a varied crowd, but was well known in town for being welcoming to the queer scene. Ian had not only witnessed but personally participated in a few liaisons in its labyrinthine halls.
Tonight, though, he wasn’t looking for anything like that. He wasn’t even interested in dancing. All he wanted was to be away from the quiet and seclusion of the library and out among people having a good time. He had a complicated relationship with crowds: sometimes he shared his father’s discomfort around them and preferred to hang out with small groups of friends, but other times he fed on the energy put out by happy people. Clubs were usually where he got the power to fuel his magic, because the amped-up dancers allowed him to drain off tiny bits from many different people. He still felt a little guilty about it, but not much—the amount he took from each person wasn’t even enough to make them a little tired, and he doubted he was the only one doing it.
He sat now at a small, round table near one of the walls, sipping slivovice and watching the undulating mass of dancers moving to the beat of some new techno piece he hadn’t heard yet. As he always did at clubs, he’d shifted to magical sight because he liked looking at the bright, colorful collection of auras. His father had once told him that when a group of people were all united in a common purpose, their auras tended to blend together, forming a beautiful interwoven tapestry of hues. The first time Ian had observed the phenomenon on his own, it had blown him away. During his younger days as a street hustler, before he’d learned of his magical talent, he’d experimented with drugs, but these days he didn’t bother except for an occasional joint now and then with friends. He didn’t need to—magic gave him a better high than drugs ever could have, and a lot safer one, too. Not that he cared that much about safety, though he’d never tell Dad that.
The song finished and several of the dancers drifted off the floor in pairs and small groups. It looked like an even mix of gay and straight customers tonight, and out of habit Ian scanned the faces of the male couples. Potmě wasn’t the kind of place people tended to bring a long-term partner, and in any case it was usually easy to spot the few who weren’t interested in experimenting. He nodded to a few familiar guys, but remained where he was, smiling and shaking his head when they beckoned him toward the dance floor.
He supposed he should give Dad a call, at least to give him a brief update on his travels and see if he was up to anything interesting himself. He wasn’t ready to go back to the States yet, but Dad had been uncommonly generous to give him enough money to continue his travels for at least another year without having to think about working. The least he could do was keep his father up to date on where he was. He made a mental note to do that tomorrow. Maybe he’d even suggest meeting up at Caventhorne, so Dad could show him around his old master’s repurposed estate.
He happened to glance up as another song started and a new group of dancers began their exodus back toward the floor. For just a moment, before the crowd swallowed him up once again, Ian caught a glimpse of a young man watching him from the other side of the room. Their eyes locked for less than a second and then a tall, tipsy couple wove into the space between them and blocked the sight line.
Ah, well. Ian caught the eyes of lots of guys. He knew without any particular conceit that he was attractive, and his time as a hustler had taught him all the tricks of how to dress, act, and conduct himself if he was interested in a hookup. Tonight, though, he shrugged off the brief interaction. He had other things on his mind. There would be plenty of time for fun some other night. He finished his drink and waved down a passing server for another.
When he turned back, someone was seated across from him at his table.
Even though their gazes had only met for the briefest of seconds, Ian was certain it was the same young man from across the room. He was certain even though it should have been impossible for him to push through the crowd and get here in the few seconds Ian had been looking away.
Now, as he got a better look in the faint illumination of the tiny enclosed candle from his table, Ian’s breath caught in his throat.
The young man was, for lack of a better word, beautiful.
“Attractive” wasn’t a strong enough word. Even “handsome” wasn’t enough. Whoever this guy was, Ian was sure he’d never seen him before. He wouldn’t have forgotten such perfection of face and form.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” the young man asked. He looked amused, as if he were fully aware of the effect he was having on Ian.
“Uh—no. It’s fine.” Ian kicked himself for sounding awkward. Suddenly he was fourteen years old again, struggling with his first crush on a straight football player at his school who probably would have beaten the crap out of him if he’d known.
He glanced down at his drink and then back up at the man, taking in his pale skin, spiky, white-blond hair, and his casual but obviously custom-made clothes. His face had the kind of flawless androgyny Ian found both rare and particularly attractive: he looked completely masculine, but almost in the manner of some kind of fantasy creature, like one of Tolkien’s perfect elves. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, if that—except for his eyes. Ian couldn’t make out their color in the dim light, but they had an ageless quality that looked both out of place and tremendously compelling in his smooth, young face.
A server appeared at his side instantly; he ordered an absinthe, then turned his attention back to Ian. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I’ve been traveling a lot.”
“So have I. I guess we just haven’t crossed paths yet.”
Ian nodded slowly. Something about the young man’s expression suggested more than simple amusement, almost as if he were waiting for something. Careful, he thought. He shifted quickly to magical sight and examined the man’s aura, discovering it to be a blazing bright purple, lighter in color than either his own or his father’s. Strong, but not unusual in any way. “I’m Ian Stone.”
“I know.” The young man’s easy, knowing smile widened.
“You…do?”
“I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
“You have?” Ian narrowed his eyes, mentally drawing back a bit. He’d spent enough time around hot guys that he was usually good at keeping his head straight around them, but this one was in another league entirely. Be careful, he told himself again. He hadn’t touched his fresh drink yet.
“Yes. Don’t worry—nothing creepy. I’ve heard of your father.”
Ian tensed. “What about my father?”
The man’s drink arrived, and he paused to sample it. He lounged in his chair, one ankle crossed with casual disregard over his knee. “Don’t be surprised—Alastair Stone is a big deal in the magical world. Lots of people have heard of him.”
“He’s never mentioned you. At least I don’t think so, since I don’t know your name.”
The man laughed. “Ah. Sorry. You can call me Gabriel.”
“Just Gabriel.”
“For now.”
Ian looked around the room. A few others, both men and women, were giving Gabriel the eye as they passed the table, but he ignored them all as if he and Ian were the only people present. “So you wanted to meet me because of my father?”
“Partly, yes.”
“I hope you aren’t looking for an invitation to talk to him.”
Gabriel chuckled. “No, nothing like that. I was more interested in talking to you, actually.” He tilted his head back, giving Ian an
appraising up-and-down look. “If you don’t mind, of course.”
“No. I don’t mind. Depending on what you’re looking for, anyway.” He returned the appraising look. He hadn’t been in the right frame of mind for an encounter tonight, but his body was informing him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t turn this one down if offered.
“I…could be looking for a lot of things.” Gabriel exuded confidence, but an odd sort—not the kind of arrogance Ian often found in guys who were hot and knew it, but more like he was absolutely certain of his place in the world. He tilted his head and gave a sly, inviting smile. “Though some could be a little more immediate than others.”
An involuntary flutter began in Ian’s stomach and crept downward. “Suppose we get out of here.”
“You’re reading my mind.”
Ian had a lot of sexual experience for a guy his age—during his time as a hustler, he’d been with everything from guys his own age to worldly older men with every kind of varied taste. He thought he’d seen it all, but an hour later as he lay, breathless and exhausted, next to Gabriel, he realized that wasn’t even close to true. In fact, he wondered if tonight’s encounter might end up as the one by which he judged every other one going forward. Even if it turned out that he never saw Gabriel again after tonight, he didn’t care.
Gabriel sat up against his pillow, hands behind his head, unselfconsciously showing off a physique that made Ian decide he needed to start spending more time at the gym. Gabriel’s appealing amusement as they left the club had morphed into a nearly otherworldly intensity during their time together, but now, afterward, he was back to the easygoing smile and catlike relaxation. He’d used magic to summon a bottle of fine wine and two glasses to the bedside table in his small but opulent suite near Staré Město, and now he sipped his while studying Ian with glittering eyes.
“I’m surprised I’d never heard of you before tonight,” Ian said, rolling to his side and propping his head against his hand. He made no attempt to hide his appreciative gaze.
Gabriel shrugged. “I travel a lot too. I don’t like staying in one place too long. I get bored.”
“Yeah, but the magical community isn’t that big, and—well, frankly, my friends would have mentioned a guy who looks like you do.” He chuckled. “Unless they wanted to keep you to themselves.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Ian narrowed his eyes, not sure exactly what to make of that. Now that the white-hot glow of passion had settled, his suspicions began to creep back. “You said you wanted to meet me. Why?”
Gabriel gave him a really? sort of look, his own gaze skimming over Ian’s bare chest.
The flutter returned, but this time Ian shook his head. “Yeah, okay, that too. But I don’t think that’s the only reason. There are a lot of guys out there. Why me? Does it have anything to do with my father?”
For a while, Gabriel didn’t answer. He sipped his wine and then returned the glass to the nightstand and lay back into the soft pillows. “It doesn’t have anything to do with your father. Not directly, anyway.”
“Not directly? What’s that mean?”
“He’s trying to find you a teacher. He’s put the word out—discreetly, of course—among various individuals in the magical world.”
Ian frowned. “Yeah, I guess he has. So what, though? I’m not ready yet. I’ve told him that. And you’re not a magic teacher.”
Gabriel tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.
“Wait.” Ian sat up. “No way.”
He didn’t answer.
“You’re a magic teacher?” Sudden anger rose. “Have you been talking to my dad? Did you two—I don’t know—cook up this whole thing to try to put me off my guard?”
Gabriel chuckled. “You were definitely off your guard tonight. It was fun to watch. But no, I’ve never met your father.”
“So…you just heard about this and decided to mess with me?”
“What, you didn’t enjoy it?” His eyes twinkled now, and the moonlight shining in through the window revealed his sly smile.
Ian mirrored the smile—he couldn’t help it. “Well…yeah. I did enjoy that part. But there’s no way you could be a magic teacher. You’re not any older than I am.”
Once again, Gabriel flashed him the tilted head and raised eyebrow. “First lesson in magic, for free: never trust appearances.”
On a whim, Ian shifted to magical sight, and drew a sharp gasp.
Gabriel’s aura, formerly a single, blazing purple, burned even brighter than before. But now the wide purple band had been joined by an even brighter gold one, closer to his body. It looked like the inverse of his father’s aura, which was purple close in and gold at the edges, and it was every bit as intense. Possibly even more so.
Ian edged away from him, suspicion growing. “Okay, so you’ve been hiding your aura. What else have you been hiding? Is that not really what you look like?” It made sense: nobody looked that good. He should have guessed.
“I look like a lot of things.” Gabriel didn’t seem perturbed or upset by Ian’s words. He lounged with the same feline grace, stretching out languidly until the sheet barely covered his lower body. “You don’t like this form? I’m not sure I can believe that…”
“I want to know what you really look like. And who you really are. Why do you want to teach me magic? And why should I let you?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, really. I thought it would be fun. And I know there are a lot of things I can teach you. More than anyone else your father would let near you, anyway.”
Ian thought of Trin, and red flags began to wave across his mind’s eye. “Look—I don’t know how much you know about me, but I’ve been burned before. I don’t plan to let it happen again.”
“Oh—right. That woman who taught you black magic. I know about her, too.” He looked indignant. “You don’t think I’m like her, do you?”
“Are you?”
Gabriel snorted, waving the thought off as if physically dismissing it. “Of course not. She was an idiot. Consumed by her passions.”
“And you’re not?” Ian shot a glance at the bed. They’d both been pretty passionate. Whatever this mysterious young man ended up being, he didn’t regret that.
“What? Consumed by my passions? No. Lesson number two: never let your passions take the driver’s seat. Passions are good—I don’t think I have to prove that to you, after tonight. But you have to consume them. That’s the secret to having all the fun in the world without letting it take you over.”
“And that’s what you want to do? Have all the fun in the world?”
“Sure. What’s life for, if not to have fun?”
Ian shook his head, trying to decide how he felt about that. “I can see why you’d think my father wouldn’t want you as my teacher.”
“Your father doesn’t like fun?”
“Well…yeah. But his idea of fun is a little different than mine.”
Gabriel stretched again, and the sheet crept a little further downward. “What’s yours?”
Ian thought about it. Nobody had ever asked him that before, not in so many words. When he’d been living at home in Ohio, both with his mother and later with Bobby, he’d always felt guilty about allowing himself too much pleasure. And when he’d lived in Los Angeles, pleasure had been more a job than anything else. It had been his job to provide it, but whether he himself shared it was of secondary concern.
“Experiences,” he said at last. “I grew up in a small town, and never really got out of it until I ran away. Now, I want to see everything. Do everything. Try all the good food and drink. Push myself. Take risks. I don’t want to settle anywhere.”
“And that’s why you and your father don’t see eye to eye.”
He thought some more. “No—it’s not like that. Dad and I get along fine.”
“But he doesn’t understand you.”
“Not…entirely, I guess. He tries—and it’s not like he’s boring or anything. He’s
had some experiences that would scare the shit out of me, to be honest. But…”
“But…” Gabriel reached out and ran a finger down Ian’s chest, the faint touch just enough to send a pleasant tingle through his nerves.
“But…I always get the feeling that in his ideal world, he wouldn’t have to do those things. He does them because nobody else will, and because he wants to fix problems. But I think he’d be just as happy if the problems didn’t exist and he could go back to studying his books and inventing new magical techniques.”
“Exactly. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But it’s not the way you’re made—nor me.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “That’s not all there is to it, though, is there?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I think you do. Nobody does anything out of the goodness of his heart. I learned that early on. So you’ve got another reason for wanting to teach me.”
Gabriel’s handsome face showed approval. “I like you, Ian. I thought I might.” He stretched again, moving the sheet infinitesimally lower. “Besides the obvious reasons, I mean. And it’s true. I do have another reason.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is? Because there’s no way I’ll even consider it without knowing. And so far you haven’t shown me anything more than an impressive…aura and a little magical talent. Even some mundanes can have impressive auras.”
“Oh, I think I’ve shown you more than that.” Gabriel shifted his leg; the sheet flowed away completely, displaying his stunning naked body.
Once again Ian felt himself responding, but this time he didn’t let it take him over. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not exactly relevant to your qualifications as a magic teacher, is it?”
Gabriel barked a merry laugh and tugged the sheet back into position. “Nicely done. But I’ve never been a follower of the ‘business before pleasure’ philosophy. There’s no reason not to combine the two. It makes life a lot more interesting.” Before Ian could answer, he shrugged. “Do you want to know the other reason? I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. It’s because of my father.”
