by Willa Okati
Jeez, questions, questions. Harry, you’re so tense I can hear your backbone creaking. Martin, just how tight was he wound up before you got a hold of him?
“It’s ancient, right? Why does it have a Deep South accent?” Harrison blurted.
Not “it.” Me. “He,” if you need to classify. Don’t call me just plain “Heart,” though. That’s girly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Harrison hesitated. He wavered between thinking he’d truly gone nuts, imagining a jeweled sculpture was talking to him, and accepting, just as he had done with everything else Martin had offered. “I still don’t understand.”
Not many people do, kid.
“I’m not a kid.”
Oh, excuse me. You’re what, thirty-something? Shit, then, forgive me, sage elder. You know everything, O Holy Wise. Gah. Sorry for breathing.
“You breathe? No. Wait.” Harrison tried to marshal his thoughts. Hard to do as they kept slipping away into the tangle of his confusion. “You’re misunderstanding me. I don’t know everything. You couldn’t be further from the truth. I can hardly make sense of anything. Not Martin. Not what we did in his chambers. Not why I feel the way I feel. None of this approaches the logical.”
“Which is part of the reason I brought you here soon after the Heart asked to see you,” Martin said quietly. “I thought you might start struggling again. You have two basic natures, Harrison. Believer. Non-believer. You give in, and then doubt creeps back. The two sides are at war within you.”
The Heart cackled.
He’s not just whistlin’ Dixie. Harry, c’mere, son. No, come on, I won’t bite. Honest to Pete.
Harrison glanced at Martin. Martin still took his breath away, so golden and perfect from the tips of his disheveled blond hair down to his toes. The only man he’d ever known who had pretty feet.
Huh. Painted toenails. Purple, of course.
“Harrison.” Martin winked at him with his brown eye, leaving the blue one open and guileless. Warm. Kindly. Like Thyne’s eyes had been once-upon-a-long-ago time. “Go on, pet. Don’t keep the Heart waiting.”
Let him take his time, Martin. He’s been through a ton of shit tonight. Give the man a chance to cope.
The Heart’s words were kindly, but his tone proposed a wicked dare.
“No.” Harrison straightened. “I’ve never been afraid of a challenge.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Indignity went a long way toward bowling over fear. “I beg your pardon?”
You’ve never been afraid, challenge or no challenge? Horse balls. You’ve spent most of your life afraid. But, hey, I’m not putting you down for being scared. Bravery isn’t what most people think. Real courage isn’t jumping in with both feet and not giving a damn if you fly or fall. It’s being afraid but not sitting on your ass and doing nothing. Intrepid means you’re scared as fuck, but you act anyway, doing what you think is right. Good for you on that, son, even if you were wrong as tits on a boar hog for the most part.
Harrison couldn’t decide if he was enraged or flattered. “You’re confusing me,” he said flatly.
Yeah, I get that from a lot of people.
“No. You’re really befuddling me. Let me start with my most pressing question. You and Martin both say you’re the Heart of Amour Magique. Extrapolating from the title, and given a belief in magic -- which, besides everything else, since you’re talking inside my mind, I can’t discredit -- unless I really have gone crazy, that is.” Harrison paused. “I haven’t, have I?”
Nope.
The Heart sounded downright chipper.
Don’t fret, son. I’ve known my share of loony tunes. You’re not even close.
“Reassuring, coming from a supposedly ancient entity who sounds like his real name should be Billy Bob.”
A jolt of electricity arced out from the Heart to zap Harrison in the chest. A whoof of air escaped him as he found himself knocked on his rump.
His ears ringing, Harrison struggled upright. “What did you do that for?”
Call it a warning. Damn, you of all people should know better than to take things at face value. Now you are being stupid. And rude. Believer, non-believer, both have questions, and they don’t spout off without thinking first.
“That doesn’t apply to a great deal of the ‘believers’ I’ve encountered in my studies,” Harrison muttered.
The Heart snorted. Okay, can’t deny that’s fair. But there’s a fine line between what I’m calling a ‘believer’ and sheep who don’t really believe in anything, least of all themselves, so they grab at any passing straw. What I call a believer is someone who’s seen real magic and accepts the fact of its existence.
“What about fortune-tellers and mediums and psychics?”
Just like the rest of humanity. Some? Total fakes. Others? Believers by the right definition. Like I said, a fine line. Takes practice to figure out who’s who, but I’ve been around a while. I can sort the sheep from the goats.
“He really can,” Martin murmured. “And more. When he found me, I was locked in the Tower for practicing Black Arts, scheduled for execution and pretty pissed off about the whole thing. All I knew was I had power. I could see a little way into the future -- just glimpses every now and then, nothing really useful and not at all like I’m able to use the Third Eye now -- I could move things with a thought, and I didn’t know how to keep my big fat mouth shut. At least I was able to keep--” He shut his mouth with a snap.
“Keep what? And the Tower? You don’t sound British.”
“I’m also a few centuries old, and I haven’t been back to Old Blighty since Amour Magique-as-it-was-then left.”
“As it was?”
“You think this place was a techno pit back in Ye Olden Days?”
“Well, no, I suppose not. Hmm. I never saw you move anything telekinetically.”
“Gotta keep some tricks up my sleeve. Otherwise, what do I have to impress you with later?” Harrison felt a small thrill of excitement at Martin’s words. “Outside of sex, that is.” Martin hooded his eyelids. “And, pet, as they say, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
The growing enthusiasm built in Harrison’s groin. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I’ll hold you to me.”
I’ll hold you both down like beetles pinned on a card if you don’t knock off the lovey-dovey and listen to me. I’ve got a few things to say, and then you can get back to boinking each other blind and stupid.
Martin looked abashed. “Sorry.” He prodded Harrison.
“My apologies.”
Hmph. Okay, then. Most of this is for Harrison. Come a little closer, and put your hands on my sides.
“Martin?”
Martin looked puzzled, but indicated that Harrison should do as the Heart had asked, even if they didn’t know what the soul of Amour Magique wanted.
A deeply rooted instinct for survival guided Harrison’s decision. Albeit with his heart in his throat, Harrison went a step or two within arm’s reach and laid his palms on either side of the Heart.
It was, he thought as his teeth chattered together, a little like sticking a fork in a light socket.
“You’re hurting him!” Martin shouted.
He’s just catching a buzz. Stings like a bitch, sure, but doesn’t do any damage. Besides, I’m in a generous mood, and I’m giving him a gift, so shut up.
The tingling grew as sharp as pins and needles. Just when Harrison thought he couldn’t take the sensation anymore, the Heart grunted.
Okay, all done. Step on back, Henry.
Harrison retreated as quickly as he could. His arms were still vibrating and his scalp crawled with leftover energy. “What did you do to me?”
Made you a Magician.
“What?” Harrison yelped.
Kidding.
Martin scratched the back of his own neck with quick, angry jerks. “Are you nuts?”
Probably. I hang out with you, don’t I? What I actually did was give Hal here a good stur
dy foundation to build himself up on as a Magician. He had a little juice. Now he has a lot. Teacher, meet your new student.
Harrison sputtered. Martin stared, clearly shocked.
Hey, don’t look at me like a three-toed lizard, huh? I had my reasons for giving Hal this particular gift. He needs all the help he can get. Harry, buddy, you’ve got a tough road in front of you, son. Believe it or not, right? Ya know, I loved Ripley. The Heart’s tone grew wistful. Big on the questions, but deep down he believed, and I mean my definition of belief. Wish we’d had a chance to meet in person. Anyway, yeah, believe it or not, there’s your personal kicker.
Harrison put the question of magical abilities aside -- for the moment -- and frowned. “I still don’t understand what the problem is. I’ve accepted. I believe.”
No. You’ve started to believe. Dumping that load of scorn was a good start, but mind you, only a start. If you stay with Martin, every day’s gonna be a challenge. Every day, you’re gonna have to choose to believe or not. So. Think you’re up to running this gauntlet?
Harrison started to answer and then closed his mouth. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.
Well?
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Ha. Give the little man a big cigar. That was exactly the right answer.
“It was?”
You bet. If you’d blurted out some kind of crap like “I do believe in fairies,” clap-clap-clap, I’d have knocked you on your ass again. You still have your courage, though. You don’t know what’s what, not when you aren’t in a submissive headspace -- and, Martin, you damn well better explain that to him before you go any further with your sex games -- but you’re stepping forward anyway. Good deal. My opinion stands. You’ll do.
Harrison didn’t know what to say. He did decide that being at a total loss for words was really beginning to get his temper up.
“Thank you,” Martin cut in. “I do have a question of my own--”
In a minute. I could read Harrison and see for myself, but I’d rather hear him tell me out loud. Hal, listen up. How much do you know about Liam? For that matter, what about Lily? Or the black cat?
Harrison was puzzled but found words at last and spoke honestly. He found it pretty obvious that the Heart appreciated blunt speech. “Liam? As far as I know, he’s nothing more than a pint-sized pain in the ass. Lily? She strikes me as brave, but possibly the ‘stupid’ kind of brave you mentioned earlier. I like her, though.” The statement surprised him, but as he rolled it over his mind he realized he meant what he’d said. “I do. I like her.”
And the cat?
“Truth?”
Wouldn’t accept anything else.
“I hate cats.”
The Heart snorted with laughter.
Oh, yeah. If you stick around, I’m gonna have fun with you, watching you learn and grow and go ape-shit and end up a damn good Magician as well as a better man when all is said and done. Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy yourself. Mostly. Probably.
“What do you mean?”
I mean a lot of things, but let me boil it down plain as a peanut. You already know you and Martin are tied. Bonded. Soul mates. Don’t ask, because I’m not telling.
Martin gave a snap of protest.
Oh, put the teeth away. I’m not telling because you can figure it out on your own, Marty. Use your noggin. As I was saying, soul mates. Fated to be together, yadda, yadda, yadda. Fade to black on a note of suspense. You might not be ready -- hell, I’m pretty sure you aren’t -- but you have to make another big choice, Harry.
“Which would be?” Harrison asked suspiciously.
Stay or go?
Harrison’s eyes grew wide. “I beg your pardon?”
Not a hard question. But if I have to spell it out, I will. Besides being meant for each other, you signed a blood contract with Martin. You do not want to know what’ll happen if you break the oath. Here’s where it gets tricky. I’m outta Charleston after tonight. Places to go, people to see, managers to ditch.
“Excuse me?”
Never mind. I’m moving on. Probably headed for California. Thanks to that oath, I can’t take Martin with me and leave you here in Charleston. You either go with me and him, or this is both your stop on the wild train ride.
“Oh,” Harrison said after a pause. “Oh?”
“Damn,” Martin muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
The Heart’s jolly, countrified air softened.
Yeah. Not an easy call to make. If you come along with us, Hal, you’ll be giving up your home, your career, your whole life as you’ve known it. But if Martin stays here in Charleston, I can’t say as I know what’ll happen to him. He’s not a kid. Staying here with me has kept him young way past when he should’ve been dead. He steps outside for good, and who knows? He could go poof and crumble into dust. Thus breaking your contract on account of the whole “till death do you part” spiel. And then what do you do?
Harrison had grown more and more troubled as the Heart spoke. Love for the Magician was still an uncertain concept. All the same, he couldn’t deny he felt affection for the man -- now he realized he always had, from the very first e-mails they’d exchanged -- or the way he quivered with excitement when he thought of Martin’s D/s play.
Stay or go? Risk all he knew versus all he didn’t know but wanted to understand? Harrison tucked his chin against his collarbone, feeling small and uncertain.
If you stay, which I hope you will, you’ll find there’s a whole new world just waiting on you. You’ll never get old, never be sick, and never die. You’ll become a Magician for real and true. I could always use another hocus-pocus man -- never hurts to have a spare. Son, you don’t have to decide right this minute. Go back to Martin’s place and talk things over. You do have to choose by morning, though. I’d give you more time, but that’s how it goes.
“I... see.” Harrison nodded. “Thank you.”
My pleasure, son. And, hey? For what it’s worth, I really would like you to stay. You tickle my funny bone, and I’ve missed you.
Harrison frowned. “Missed me? Whoa. One of the first things you said was that I looked different this time around. You keep calling me ‘Harry’ and ‘Hal,’ ‘Henry’ as well as ‘Harrison.’ Do you know why everything is giving me déjà vu? What do you really mean, here?”
Figure it out for yourself, smarty-pants.
Harrison got the feeling that if the Heart could have tweaked his nose, it would have.
Okay, scat. I’ve gotta get back to work, and you two need to have a good long talk. G’wan, get.
“You are so in love with irritating me, aren’t you?” Martin demanded.
The Heart glimmered as if snickering but remained silent.
“Fine!” Martin threw his hands in the air. “Come on, pet. The Heart knows what he’s doing. He wants us to talk, so we’ll talk.”
An idea had been developing in the back of Harrison’s mind. He wasn’t sure he dared, but damn, it was tempting.
Well, why not try?
“We’ll go talk when I’m good and ready,” Harrison said mildly. He took advantage of Martin’s delightful surprise at his unexpected reply to catch the Magician from behind and pin him tight. “Gotcha!”
Martin struggled against Harrison’s grip until Harrison strengthened his stranglehold to the point of pain. “What are you doing?” his lover choked out. “Pets do not attack their Masters!”
“Maybe everyday pets don’t.” Wrestling Martin around, Harrison kissed him. “After talking to the Heart, though, I don’t think I’m ‘everyday.’ And I think, even if I am a pet, I still have free will. So we could talk.” He groped Martin’s ass and ground their groins together, almost completely forgetting they were in front of a sentient audience. “But you know what? I’d rather we do this first.”
Chapter Eight
No matter how Martin liked to think of himself, Master or Magician or otherwise, just as Harrison had suspected, Martin was first, last,
and always a man, with a man’s reactions. In this case, a gay man’s reaction to another gay man’s blatant proposition.
Or, to make a long story short, when Harrison spun the Magician around again and pressed his hardened cock against Martin’s ass, Martin hissed and pushed back against him. Harrison thrust forward, drawing a sharp cry from his lover. “Ahh!”
Harrison felt like hooting with laughter. Despite everything that was going on, he’d found an oasis of sanity. Some might argue there was nothing sane about sex, but sex reduced all men to a common denominator. Without the fancy words, sex made most men the same: more animal than human, driven by the need to get off and nothing more.
Things might be different when Martin was too taken aback to play his role of Master, or possibly too horny to care, but Harrison decided the fancy stuff could go to Hell. For the moment. He had control, at least right then, and he planned to use the power he’d tricked away.
“Yes,” he said sibilantly, mouth close to Martin’s ear but not quite touching the shell or lobe. Close enough to tickle with lips and breath and, he hoped, just far enough away to be maddening. “You like this, don’t you?” Another idea glittered in his mind. “The mirror has two sides, or so you told me. I haven’t had a chance to show you what I can do when I’m in charge. Now, I will.” He made the words into more of a seductive threat than a statement, then nipped Martin’s earlobe to watch him flinch and lean his head back for more. “Are you going to fight?”
Martin’s head bobbed slightly as he exhaled, a sound somewhere between lusty and amused. “Not now. Going to spank you later. Stripe your ass like a candy cane.”
Harrison’s cock jerked as his body decided he liked the image that conjured. Hmm. Kinky, kinky. Then again, nothing wrong with kink, was there? He’d learned a great deal in these past few hours, and so far, he’d enjoyed the lessons far more than he hadn’t.
“Promises, promises,” he taunted. “Tell me, how would you like going first with a bit of rough?”
To his satisfaction, Martin strangled out a curse and rubbed harder against Harrison’s groin. The Magician was probably damning Harrison’s soul to Hell, but at the moment Harrison couldn’t have cared less.
