Before he thought about consequences, he reached out to smooth a curl back from Joey's forehead. The little guy just looked so miserable. By the time he realized his mistake, he had an armful of Joey practically crawling into his lap, sobbing against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry! I was stupid and you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You wouldn't have run out when I needed you. My big, strong Will, please, please say you forgive me. Move back in with me. I don't care if you don't have a job yet. We'll find you something. I'll do better. Try harder... "
Joey trailed off when Willem put a finger under his chin to lift his head. He bit back a sigh when the boy looked like he wanted a kiss. "It wouldn't work, hon. We can't go back now."
"Don't you love me anymore? You can't forgive me?"
Damn, not more tears. God. "Of course I love you. I can't just turn that off. But you ripped my heart out and diced it up pretty fine."
Joey ran a finger down the pulse point of his throat and Willem swallowed hard. He'd always melted when Joey touched him there. "You'd lost your job. We were fighting a lot. And then Leo was there. I was selfish and stupid."
The finger traced Willem's ear and his stupid cock stirred. Down, boy.
"Say you forgive me. Tell me we can start over."
He took Joey's face between his hands, searching his big, dark eyes. "I forgive you, sweetheart. I do."
A home, the comfort of regular meals, a bed, and hot water, someone human in his arms at night, it was tempting. He wanted to pretend it would be all right, wanted to turn back the clock and erase the bad moments, but he couldn't. His eyes were open now, and he had a lover waiting for him who hadn't tried to control his every touch, who appreciated who he was instead of who he thought Willem should be.
"But I'm sorry. It just wasn't working. Even before Leo. You wanted someone big and strong, hon. Turns out, you didn't really want me. I can't change for you, and it was wrong of me to want you to change for me."
"Oh." Joey moved back. He looked disappointed but not devastated. Then his head jerked down toward his lap. "Oh! Will, look!"
"What now?" Will frowned. He didn't want to look at Joey's blistered crotch again, but when he glanced down, his mouth hung open. Slowly, starting at the edges, the oozing sores dried and shrank while he watched, the inflamed patches of skin fading to a less painful-looking pink.
"Oh, my God," Joey whispered. "Will, tell me you see this."
Willem nodded, for a moment unable to form words. All across Joey's skin, the blisters vanished. Only the barest trace of irritated skin remained. "What the... "
Joey squealed in delight and flung off the robe, turning in front of the mirror. "They're gone, Will! Holy fuck, they're gone!" He ran to hug Willem and then raced back to the mirror to look again. He laughed, twirling. "You're my good luck charm!"
Someone's going to have to do some serious explaining later. And I better like the answers. "At least you're better. That's the important thing. Must've been some weird allergic reaction."
Still stark naked, Joey cocked his head to one side. "When's the last time you had a shower?"
Willem tried to ignore the flush climbing his neck. "Couple days ago, probably."
"Take one with me. I'll wash your back." Joey pulled out his best come-fuck-me smile and held out his hands.
Tempting, again. He knew that beautiful, compact body so well, knew just how it would feel to shove Joey up against the shower wall, spread his thighs, and take him. Willem squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the image. "Maybe not the best idea, hon. I don't need a pity screw and you don't need me giving you the wrong idea."
He watched Joey's expressions run through disappointment and offense, waiting for the explosion. It never came. Joey ducked his head, his next expression one Willem had never seen on him. He could have sworn it was shame.
"I get it, Will. I'm sorry. For everything." Joey pulled a blanket off the bed to cover himself. "I was a dick to you, and you still showed up when you thought I was in trouble. Please. Use the shower. You need one, baby. I'll stay out here."
Willem tried not to gape, though he wondered when he had stepped through the dimensional door into The Twilight Zone. Joey insisted, he had his first hot shower in days, and they parted with a kiss and a warm embrace.
"You'll find your big bear of a sugar daddy someday," Willem whispered into his hair.
"Dear God, I hope so." Joey rolled his eyes, but sounded much more himself again.
"Just don't cheat on him when you do."
He was still royally pissed at Kasha, but making his peace with his ex felt... better. No denying it, he felt better.
* * * *
Kasha peered out from the underbrush. The house and grounds appeared quiet today, no gatherings, no guests, just as he had hoped. He had known about the owner for some time, but had never felt the need to approach before.
It wasn't that he was afraid, certainly not, but anxious about the outcome? Yes, that was only sensible. Willem needed him to accomplish a few, simple things, whether he knew it or not yet. He needed housing, that first and foremost. He needed patronage and a new love interest to inspire him. If the patronage came with the friendship of powerful people, that would be all the better.
These things had to be approached carefully, though. He never had been at his best with females.
"Yorukaze, your transgressions cannot be overlooked this time." Amaterasu had spoken softly, but the sun goddess's face was stern.
"My lady, give me but another chance! It was a mistake, a moment's indiscretion! Any punishment you mete out, I will gladly accept!" Even while he protested, he knew it was too late.
"A dalliance would be indiscretion, Yorukaze. But this is no dalliance. You have broken your oaths, not once but three times. You overstep, my kasha, your arrogance driving you to believe that you are wiser than Lady Death herself."
"He was too young! He had such promise!"
"You are banned from these precincts and stripped of all but the most rudimentary magic. You will learn humility by serving humankind in their world, serving their petty needs and desires, only gaining some of your strength again when you are claimed and leashed."
"My lady, please! You cannot be so cruel! I only did what I thought right and just!"
Perhaps that hadn't been the wisest thing to say. She had flung him from her kingdom with such force, he lay senseless for a number of months thereafter. He had served faithfully since, though he had little choice with the compulsions set upon him. An instrument of the gods' whims, sometimes the humans he served were contemptible, sometimes they shone with inner strength. For good or ill, he helped them gain what they needed, which was not always what they believed they wanted. When they took back what they had given, he was free, or when they expired, likewise.
Free. He snorted. It was always a hollow, bitter, short-lived freedom, stripped to nothing but cheap conjuring, left to his own devices only until the spirit winds called his name again.
So often, he had served men of ambition, men who shaped the course of those around them. To serve someone like Willem was unusual, someone so...
He hesitated to say ordinary. It was less than accurate. Someone of such narrow influence, perhaps, though Willem was young. Who could say what events he would affect eventually?
Getting as bad as the boy, sitting in the damp brush, ruminating. He shook himself and pushed his way through the blackberry bushes to stride across the lawn on two legs.
The house sat in a large clearing, surrounded by flowerbeds and an expanse of lawn, still green this late in the year. Here and there, sculpture dotted the landscape, everything from a classically inspired male nude to an abstract kinetic construct.
A young woman stepped out the backdoor, red plastic bucket in hand, her golden hair cascading to her waist. She stopped a few feet from the steps, reached into the bucket and began scattering birdseed on the lawn. Songbirds converged on her, settling at her feet, tugging at strands of her hair,
completely oblivious that a predator stalked out of the woods.
Kasha's stomach growled at the banquet before him, but pouncing on the young lady's breakfast guests to devour them would have been a dreadful first impression.
"Good morning, miss!" he called out when he reached polite hailing distance. "I wonder if I might trouble you for a few moments."
She turned his way, cornflower blue eyes widening. For one heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he had erred.
"Oh, what a cute kitty!" she cried out as she placed her bucket down and rushed toward him. "Oh, my God, I just love your boots! Aren't you just the most adorable thing ever!"
To his horror, he found himself scooped up and hugged tight. "Miss, please!"
"You're even cuter than the kitty in that movie, the one Antonio Banderas voiced. And I just love Antonio." She rubbed his whiskers with her cheek, not entirely unpleasant but terribly undignified.
"Morgen!" A sharp voice cut through the young woman's gushing. "Come away from there! Put it down and get away, now!"
The second voice belonged to a handsome, middle-aged woman with sharp gray eyes and midnight hair. Her tone was commanding, but fear edged it.
"Mom! It's not like he's dirty. You're embarrassing me."
"Don't be stupid, Morgen. Don't you know what that is?" The matronly woman glared at Kasha. "Who have you come for, demon? You can't have my daughter."
The girl squeaked and dropped him abruptly. "Demon?"
"It's a kasha demon, child. Come over here." The woman raised a hand against him, tracing what he recognized as a warding.
Kasha sighed as he stood, brushing dust from his fur. "Madame, I assure you, I have not--"
"Ettie, stop that!" A third woman emerged from the house, white hair caught in a neat braid down her back, her progress slow and deliberate on the steps. "Great Mother, you girls have no sense. If the kasha has come for anyone, it's me. Don't be rude."
She stopped and leaned on her cane, her winter-pale eyes raking Kasha up and down. "But you haven't, have you? You're wearing boots."
On the surface, the statement seemed absurdly obvious. It was a sign, though, that she knew precisely what he was. He removed his hat and swept her a bow. "Yes, ma'am. I am indeed wearing boots."
"Were you forced into service?"
"No, ma'am. I serve because I must, but this one I serve willingly."
"Whom do you serve, pretty kasha? A sorcerer? A necromancer? And what does your master want with us?"
"I serve the artist, Willem Aufderheide. He has long been an admirer of your beautiful house and gardens, and he sends me with a small gift." He reached into his hatband, pulled out Willem's crane, and offered it to the old woman.
She approached slowly, perhaps more from impaired mobility than caution, but tendrils of powerful magic preceded her, ghosting over Kasha, prodding at him. He drew slow breaths, willing his body to relax, his tail to stay smooth and still. He had no ill intentions to hide, nothing to fear.
With an age-curled hand, she took the crane, holding it in her palm to examine it. "It's a princely gift. His work?"
Kasha nodded.
"It's lovely. Tell him thank you, from all of us. Come inside, pretty kasha. It's too cold out here to talk."
Hat in paws, he followed the three witches, the youngest positively beaming, the middle-aged one still scowling. He sat human-wise on the kitchen chair offered to him, back legs dangling over the edge, tail politely curled in his lap. The old witch offered him catnip tea while she poured chamomile for the humans, and the four of them sipped and chatted. He discovered they were Natt, Ettermiddag and Morgen Engelstad, mother, daughter and granddaughter, and that their family had owned large tracts of the land around Honeybole for nearly two hundred years.
"Aufderheide," Ettie said into a pause in conversation. "Isn't that the beer family?"
"That is my lord's family, yes," Kasha admitted.
"So a brewer managed to claim a kasha?"
"His father was the brewer, ma'am. Willem is a man of more... unusual talents."
"Obviously." Natt, the grandmother snorted, and then grew more serious. "I knew Horst. He was a hard man, but devoted to his craft. I was sad to hear that he passed."
"He leaves a void." Kasha found he did miss the old bear. Strange that he would.
"And into void something must rush to fill it," Natt said softly. "And when we don't see to it, sometimes what we don't wish rushes in."
"My lady, you mean something beside a philosophical statement, I believe." Kasha shifted in his chair as fingers of shadow crept along the floorboards.
"I wish I didn't," the old woman said. "Though maybe if your Willem is powerful enough to ensnare a kasha, he might help with this."
"Perhaps, my lady, you might tell me? I might intercede for you with him."
The three witches looked at one another. Morgen finally spoke. "See, Grandma owns a second house, on the other side of the hill. It's supposed to be my house, if I, you know, decide to have kids and stuff."
"But something moved in there, changing the deed, registering the property as his," Ettie continued.
"Something?" Kasha's ears twitched.
"An investment banker."
"A lawyer."
"An ogre."
Kasha blinked, trying to make sense of the conversation. "Three somethings?"
"No, all the same one," Natt explained.
"An unpleasant investment banker has seized the property with the help of his attorney?" Kasha felt a headache coming on.
"No, silly kitty." Morgen giggled. "The scumbag's an ogre, a real one. Not the nice kind from that movie. But he's also a banker and has his law degree. He just kinda took the house and we can't budge him."
"An ogre," he repeated. "Truly?" But he found himself not as surprised as he should have been. That explained the darkness he had felt in the mountains, the gathering of power that had disturbed his dreams. "How do ogres acquire law degrees?"
Natt shrugged. "I assume they take all sorts at law schools, if they pass the exams."
"Maybe even online, who knows?" Ettie shrugged. "No one would ever catch sight of him then."
"Hey, Gram?" a new voice called from the hallway, a deep, male voice. "Have you seen the cable for my amp?" The disembodied voice resolved into a beautiful young man, lean and athletic, with thick waves of chocolate hair and a guitar slung over his shoulder.
"I can't keep track of your things, Teddy," Natt said with weary exasperation.
"Well, I--holy crap. That is one freaky cat." The gorgeous male, Teddy, presumably, stared at Kasha with hazel eyes gone huge as dinner plates. "I mean, he is a cat, right? And not some poor dude Aunt Ettie turned into a cat?"
"No, he's a cat, stupid," Morgen said with a contemptuous eye roll.
"Never know around here." He gave Kasha a tentative wave. "Hey, Mr. Kitty, how's it hanging?"
"Quite comfortably under the tail, thank you," Kasha answered after a sip of tea.
Teddy grinned. "Hey, I like him. Lots more fun than your usual guests."
"Good to hear, young sir." Kasha hopped down from his chair and handed his mug off to Morgen. "Thank you for the tea, kind ladies, and for the lovely visit. As to the issue we discussed, I will put it before my--Willem. I'm sure he'll wish to help."
Natt gave him a nod. "Thank you. We wouldn't want to put him in a bad spot, but if there's anything he could suggest, we'd be grateful."
Kasha gave the ladies a little bow and left by the backdoor. On his way out, he heard Teddy ask, "So who's this Willem dude? Is he cute?"
The visit couldn't have gone better. The witches were friendly and interested in the arts. They had a problem with which they required assistance, a house standing empty, and a visiting relative who was not only gay and breathtakingly handsome, he was apparently looking.
Perfect. All the elements were there for Willem: patronage, housing, and the possibility of a new love interest. Now he merely needed to pull the players togeth
er under just the right circumstances.
Chapter 5: Memory And Shadow
When he reached the cabin again, he was exhausted and out of sorts. The brief visit to the ogre's house had drained him badly, all his power going to shielding his presence. The witches' neighbor was not merely any ogre. They could be stupid, ravenous louts, but, no, this one was old. Canny and powerful, he wore his magic like a carefully selected wardrobe, only showing what he pleased.
Kasha felt the layers underneath, though, and was frightened for the first time in many years. This one shifted shapes as easily as if he changed his shirt. He wondered if his promise to the ladies would be one he could keep, or even one he should try to keep. It might endanger them all.
Rest first. Things will be clearer in the morning.
Unfortunately, rest had to wait as well. Willem had reached the cabin first, his anger emanating from under the door.
"Oh, marvelous." Kasha hesitated, briefly considered staying outside, and then decided he was better off facing the confrontation and possibly having the storm blow over before he collapsed on his face.
He pushed the door open to find Willem pacing in front of the fire. He whirled when the door creaked, fire in his eyes.
"Damn you, Kasha! What the hell did you do?"
"In what regard, sir?" Kasha shut the door and went to the fire to warm his paws.
"Don't hand me that! To Joey! He was all curled up, whimpering in pain when I got there today. Don't even tell me it wasn't you!"
"It was a small conditional spell, my lord. Nothing more. How is he now?" He found himself unable to look at Willem. It hurt to have him so angry, more than it should.
"He's... fine." That seemed to temper Willem's rage. "He's fine. But that's not the point. He sure as hell wasn't when I got there. And why is he fine now?"
"Conditional. A certain act triggers the spell. A certain act rescinds it." Kasha lay down on his side, trying to keep his eyes open.
"So what triggered it?"
"Putting on his underwear."
Willem made a disgusted sound. "Oh, that's low. God. And how did he break it?"
"What did you do while you were there, my lord?"
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