“Not yet,” said Vic.
“You mean this could kill him?”
“If we don't act soon, it probably will. What you did set up a permanent drain link. You're drawing off him all the time now, without even knowing it. The only way to stop it is to sever the connection between you.”
Panic made his trembling worse. “But you said we need a sorcerer.” He felt like his heart was being stretched. Anything was worth it if it meant Blake would live. But to have the solution, painful as it may be, so close, and yet—
“Well, after your second slip, we thought it might become necessary to sever the bond, despite Blake's objections, so we…ah…”
“We tracked down an onmiogi,” said Enid.
“A what?”
“A good sorcerer. One who manipulates the forces of nature for good, not evil. We told him of your difficulty in controlling your abilities and of Blake's plight, and he agreed to help us when the time was right. It's a full moon tonight. The perfect time for this ritual. He said he'd hold this night for us if we need him. He's just a phone call away.”
Joam swallowed. “Call him. Call him now.”
* * * * *
While Vic called the onmiogi, Saffron laid a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to see Blake now?”
“Yes. Please.”
She nodded and led him to the basement steps. “We didn't know exactly what was going on when we found him like this, so we put him in the training room, where he'd be protected, no matter what happened next.”
It wasn't lost on Joam what she really meant. Protected from him, was what she was too kind to say.
“I know you won't do anything now to put Blake at further risk,” said Saffron, “and I have to help Vic and Enid prepare for the ritual. I'll give you some time alone with him.”
Joam looked over his shoulder at her. “Thank you, for everything.”
She gave him a sad smile. “That's what we're here for.”
She unlocked the door and opened it. It was dark inside, but Joam could just make out the outline of a figure lying curled on the floor. Blake! He went in and heard the door swinging shut behind him. As the lock clicked, he realized what had been wrong about what she'd said. “I have to help Vic and Enid prepare for the ritual.” But Saffron, Vic, and Enid weren't sorcerers…were they?
He reached over to the light switch and flicked it on. The entire room was covered, floor, walls, and ceiling, in arcane symbols drawn in chalk. Three circles dominated the floor, two in opposite corners, with the third circle between them, linking them. Blake lay curled on his side in the middle of the circle in the northeast corner of the room.
“Blake!” Forgetting the danger he posed to his lover, Joam rushed to his side, shaking him urgently. “Wake up!”
Blake moaned softly, and his eyelids fluttered. Joam stroked his face, running his other hand over his golden hair. “Babe, please, wake up.”
Blake took a deep breath. “Mmmmn?” he murmured.
“It's me. It's Joam. Come on. Wake up.”
Joam got the clear impression that Blake was trying to cooperate, but that his energy was just too low. In the meantime, a few pieces were falling into place, creating a very ugly picture. Anyone who could create a diagram this elaborate was not just drawing off a book or following instructions. Saffron, Vic, and Enid were sorcerers, and they'd lied about it. Which meant they had no need to summon an onmiogi. Which meant that the person they were summoning was someone or something else. And—Joam's heart clutched at the frail hope—it was possible that Blake's current state was not down to him after all. At least, not this time.
“Cssiiinnammm,” Blake muttered.
“That's it,” encouraged Joam. “Come back to me.”
“Doonn drriiinn da cinnnnaa…”
“I'm right here, Blake. Wake up, please.”
Blake's face contorted as he tried to shake himself free of his lethargy. “Deh cinnnaammun!”
“The cinnamon? The cinnamon tea? What about it?”
Blake's eyes opened, closed again, and then opened once more. Joam cursed inwardly at the agony he saw there. This was all his fault; if he could have controlled his powers better, sooner, they wouldn't still be here.
“Joam.” Blake's voice was barely a whisper. He leaned down, putting his ear to Blake's mouth. Blake's breath was warm and gentle on his skin. “Saffron's been drugging you. The reason you've been losing control, it's the cinnamon tea.”
An odd mixture of feelings coursed through Joam at those words. If Saffron, Vic, and Enid were sorcerers who'd been keeping them here for reasons unknown, and they were now locked in a room prepped for a ritual, then they were in deep shit. But if the reason Joam had been behaving the way he had, his unexpected changes, draining Blake uncontrollably, even—God, please—the attempted rape, were because he'd been drugged, then there was hope that he and Blake could still have a life together. Maybe. If they got out of this alive.
“I need to wake up, Joam. Help me.”
Joam gathered Blake's limp form in his arms and held him tight. “What can I do?”
Blake didn't answer. Joam knew that they didn't have much time. If the other varnals came in while Blake was still immobile, they were screwed. Joam couldn't fight them and defend Blake at the same time. He had to do something, now.
He remembered his lessons in controlling the energy drain with Vic. They'd gone well, and then after lunch—and, he realized, a big glass of cinnamon tea—he'd lost it. But he'd been good at it when not under the influence. Something he'd wondered about even then came back to him now. If he could drain energy from Blake, could he reverse the flow and give Blake some of his own?
Even trying it was a big risk. He tried to sense the presence of whatever Saffron had put in that damned tea to make him lose it, but he'd never been aware of it before, so there was no telling if it was still in his system now. At least he'd had a long run. He told Blake about his idea.
“Yes, try it.”
“But it could backfire. It could—” He couldn't even speak the possibility of the worst that might happen.
“What other choice do we have?”
Joam nodded. Blake was right. He laid him down on the floor again, gently, and went to the far corner of the room. That way, if he was still under the influence, he'd have some hope of detecting it in time and shifting back to human form. Maybe. He changed into midform, hoping that this intermediate state might afford him more control.
Blake's enticing smell mingled with the acrid stink of sorcery in the room. As always, Joam was aroused by the smell and presence of his lover, but he found he could refrain from approaching him if he willed it. That was a good sign. But there was no more time for delay. The other varnals could be down here any minute. He padded over to where Blake lay.
Before touching him, Joam spent a few breaths familiarizing himself with the feel of his own energy. He imagined himself to be a water tank, his fingers the hose leading into the empty reservoir that was Blake. And his mind was the spigot. When he had the image firmly in place, he turned, reached out, and placed his hands on Blake's shoulders, and he mentally turned the spigot on.
He felt his energy seeping into Blake, but the process was slow. Too slow. He had an idea what might speed things up. Bolstered by this moderate success, he leaned over and kissed Blake, gathering his arousal and pouring it into Blake as his tongue plundered the warm, wet cavern of Blake's mouth. More energy flowed from him, and Blake stirred. “Mmmmmm,” he murmured and returned the kiss.
Joam broke their kiss, afraid of what reciprocal activity on Blake's part might do. He turned his attention to Blake's neck, licking and kissing and nipping at the tender skin, and all the time holding in his mind the image of water flowing from him into Blake.
He heard Blake sigh and felt the slightest brush of a finger against his arm. “Don't,” said Joam. “Let me. Just…take it in.”
With a sigh of regret, Blake whispered his acquiescence.
As
he bestowed energy on Blake with every kiss, every caress, Joam felt himself redeemed. If he could do this, then there was no more reason to be afraid of what he was. Of what he could do. He could use his abilities to help people, instead of prey on them.
Of course, he wouldn't help everyone the way he was helping Blake now. Joam couldn't suppress a smile as he came to the waistband of Blake's jeans. He undid them. What he was doing must have been working, because Blake, though not rock hard by any estimation, was nevertheless tumescent. A remarkable feat given the circumstances.
Joam took the half-hard cock into his mouth and was rewarded by a sharp cry from Blake. While he sucked and worked his tongue up and down the slowly filling shaft, he reached down and cupped Blake's balls, kneading them gently in his hand and feeling the warm flow of the gift of his sexual energy. He was so hard, but he didn't want to come. He wanted to take all of his arousal and pour it into Blake. He wanted to make Blake feel everything he felt.
Blake's cock hardened, and Joam was thrilled to feel his hips flexing beneath him. Joam opened himself to Blake's cock and let him slowly fuck his face. The sensation of Blake's cock filling his mouth, the velvet skin on his tongue and the sweet musk in his nose, made him groan and flex his own hips, his inflamed cock seeking some kind of contact. He concentrated on pouring all those feelings into Blake, sharing them with him, making him feel them too.
“God! Joam! I…I never!”
Blake was stronger, but still far from where he'd need to be to contend with the varnals. As enjoyable as this was, it was taking too long. “Blake,” rasped Joam. “I think I need to fuck you.”
“Yes!”
Joam pulled Blake's pants off and raised his knees. They flopped back down again the moment he let go of them. With an inward cringe, he remembered what he'd done upstairs, in their room, when he wasn't about to wait around for a little thing like consent, and he took Blake's ankles in his hands and raised them toward his shoulders. This put him in the perfect position to penetrate Blake.
Even in middle form, the varnal penis was different from a human one. For one thing, it was prehensile, and for another, it made its own lube. On his knees, Joam scooted closer to Blake's ass and tilted his hips. His cock, already seeking the heat of Blake's tight hole, dripped with thick, viscous precum. It brushed against Blake's asshole, painting the rim with lubricant. The tip was thin, tapered. He eased it inside Blake, distributing precum as he went, gently working him open.
“Oh! Oh God, Joam! I-I've never felt—”
He eased himself inside Blake's hot channel and went in search of his prostate. When he found the spongy gland, Joam curled the tip of his penis around it and stroked, focusing on pouring his arousal into the sensitive spot.
“Oh God!” Blake's full-throated shout echoed in Joam's ears, and he was grateful that the room was soundproof. All of a sudden, strong arms clutched at his back, fingers digging into his muscles.
Joam drew his hips back and thrust in again and again, each time bestowing a special kiss upon Blake's prostate and eliciting another scream of ecstasy. He released Blake's legs, and Blake wrapped them around his hips with almost painful strength. The two of them moved together now, breathing in rhythm as the energy between them built and built.
Joam became concerned. This might be more than a human body could take. It was clear that Blake was back to full strength (if not a bit more), and Joam himself was unsure if he could handle the excess. But it had to go somewhere.
Blake was on the same wavelength with him. “The…door…” he panted.
Joam nodded. His balls were tight against his body, and the sensation in the pit of his stomach was like a hand opening. And Blake's frantic bucking beneath him told him that he was just as close. “Together,” he breathed.
Blake nodded. “Now!”
Their orgasms exploded together. Blake's cum shot all over Joam's furry midform chest, and the convulsions of his body sent ripples all around Joam's cock at the same time that Joam's seed poured into him. The power of their release shot out from between them and struck the door like an invisible cannonball.
An enormous clang reverberated through the room and, most likely, the entire house. All Joam wanted to do was collapse in a heap and hug Blake to him for the next two days, but this was no time to bask in the afterglow. He swept Blake up in a brief hug before releasing him to stand, swaying slightly, staring at what remained of the door to their prison. It hung off its hinges, the metal warped and twisted, smoking a little on the inside. Joam's head swam.
“Come on,” said Blake, bounding through the door in a single, impressive leap. Joam ran behind him, trying to catch his breath.
Blake had never felt like this before. Joam had done more than just restore his energy and provide him with the most powerfully erotic experience of his life. From the energy that seemed to burst from every cell of his body, Blake suspected that Joam had gone a bit overboard, lending him more power than had been his to start with.
Blake sprang for the door and was shocked to find himself standing outside it, in the little office area of the basement. Footsteps on the stairs were louder in his ears than they would normally be, and he turned to see four figures descending the stairs. The three varnals, all in midform now, and another figure, wrapped in white robes.
Chapter Nine
The three varnals stood at the foot of the stairs, staring at them. For an instant, Joam hoped the robed figure was Jimmy the onmiogi, but then he caught the scent, and everything fell into place.
Gregor Walsh threw back the hood of his robe and uttered a word in another language. A wall of force slapped into Joam and Blake, forcing them back into the room. Caught unprepared, Joam skittered backward, frantically scrabbling at the carpet for purchase, and Blake put his shoulder against the invisible barrier and tried to push back, but it was no use. The force, whatever it was, rolled inexorably on, pushing them back into the room.
As they crossed the threshold, the symbols on the walls came alive, glowing blue and…moving. It was as if the room itself writhed. Joam took Blake's hand.
Walsh and the three varnals, moving with unnatural speed, followed them into the room. Walsh gestured at the door, uttered another unintelligible word, and the door unwarped itself and slammed shut. “You will not escape me this time!”
Joam looked at Vic. “You've been working for him all along, haven't you? Even that night when you quote unquote saved us from the cops.”
Walsh laughed. “I called the cops on you, Joam. To flush you and your little whore out. To make you trust my servants, believe everything they told you. It nearly worked perfectly.” He glared at Enid, who shrank back from the door. “But someone got careless with a certain pet onmiogi I was foolish enough to let her keep.”
Enid shook her head, her eyes wide. Joam smelled the fear on her, rolling off her in waves of acrid funk. “Please, Your Excellency, I beg your forgiveness!”
“She did recapture the whore,” said Saffron.
Walsh directed his glare at her. “Do you want to accept punishment in her stead?”
Saffron shook her head and said no more.
Walsh's cold gray eyes pierced the gloom, reflecting the light of the sigils like twin blue flames. “It is always possible that in the escape attempt, some of the workings in the room have been disturbed. It would be best to test the diagram before we proceed. We don't want anything else to go wrong.”
“No!” protested Enid.
Walsh looked at Vic and Saffron. “This is your opportunity to prove your loyalty to me.”
They went to Enid's side, each taking one of her arms. “No. Vic, please, don't! Saffron!”
Her cries were heartbreaking, even after Joam remembered that she'd kept Jimmy in a state of catatonia for years. Saffron and Vic forced her toward one of the circles drawn in the floor. The one in the far right corner where Blake had been. As they did, Walsh positioned himself in the middle circle.
“She has no life bond to sever,”
said Joam, hoping to keep Walsh talking.
Walsh laughed. “You really fell for that severing ritual idea, didn't you? There's no way to sever a life bond once it's forged, except to kill one or both of the partners. I suppose you could say that what we've arranged here is a severing ritual, if it makes you feel better. Watch.”
Saffron and Vic shoved Enid inside the circle. Immediately, she began to writhe and scream as the symbols transformed into small, glowing blue creatures with wings and large jaws full of teeth. They leaped from their stations and flew at her, attacking her. Each time one bit her, it was as if it devoured a chunk of her corporeal form, leaving nothing but a ghostly white outline of her body in its place. Her screams got louder.
Joam and Blake rushed to the circle, both intent on pulling her out, but when they reached it, they found an impermeable wall prevented them from reaching her. Within moments, she was gone, and all that remained was a ghostly wraith.
“All that's left of her soul now is pain,” said Walsh. “Now see what happens when that pain is unleashed on a living subject.” Without warning, he, Saffron, and Vic surrounded Joam, moving at a supernatural speed. They grabbed him and forced him toward the other circle.
Joam struggled against them, but he was weakened from the energy exchange with Blake. Meanwhile, Blake grabbed Vic by the neck and threw him across the room. “Get off my boyfriend!” Vic careened into the wall and came back running. By now, Blake had turned his attention to Walsh.
“Blake, don't,” shouted Joam, even as Blake sprang. Walsh took one hand from Joam's shoulder and waved it at Blake, who slammed into an invisible wall and slid to the floor.
“Drain him, would you?” he said to Vic.
Joam couldn't see what happened next because Walsh and Saffron shoved him inside the other circle. This one had symbols on the outside. Instantly Joam reverted to his human form, and the symbols sprang to life as the others had. When they did, the circle around him became visible as a dome of blue light. The symbols merged with the dome and then flared bright white before vanishing. Joam blinked to clear the dazzle from his eyes. What was happening to Blake?
Awakenings 2: Instinct Page 11
