by Megan Derr
At last, the spell circle dissolved, leaving only a single glowing blue flame. Charlie wiped his hand off and flicked his fingers, bidding the flame show him the way.
It led him on a merry chase through the dark city, taking a meandering circuit through the business distract, into a cluster of small shops that often had private apartments on the top floors, then into the neighborhoods that were almost strictly residential. Eventually, those too faded away as the little flame led him into the industrial areas by the river, into the depths of the harbor.
When it stopped and went out, Charlie found himself standing in front of an enormous warehouse. It smelled of blood: werewolves, dragons, and dozens more. So it had once been a pit arena, including the d-pits where dragons were fought. But those smells were old, meaning they'd been shut down a long time ago.
The only fresh-smelling blood was human and goblin; he could also smell roasted human flesh, which matched with the scent of goblin blood. Somewhere in the warehouse was a processing operation for the human meat goblins loved so much.
It churned his stomach thinking about it and made him fear for his master. He could guess why they might take Jed to the goblins: the Ring of Solomon. It would not come off his finger unless Jed desired, but goblins were adept at removing such things.
Charlie slowly approached the warehouse and was not at all surprised to find it locked. A stupid padlock, however, was no match for him. He etched a single rune on the front of it and activated it with a word. The lock separated into two pieces in his hand, and he threw them aside. Pushing open the door, he slipped inside.
The smell of human flesh, both raw and cooked, was stronger than ever. It made him gag, but he forced his stomach down and pushed onward, slipping easily through the dark.
He heard them long before he saw them and slowed his steps until he stopped completely. Let them think he was hesitating, lost ...
And when they had formed a half-circle around him, he let out a burst of blinding light. After that, the half dozen or so goblins were easy to take care of. He broke three noses, one arm, two legs, and several ribs. When he finally stopped, he was panting lightly. Lifting a hand high above his head, he slowly closed his splayed fingers into a fist, snuffing the light.
"Where is my master?" he asked the groaning, whimpering goblins. "Give my master to me, or stay out of my way."
When they gave him no useful reply, he knocked them unconscious before moving on further into the warehouse. His next challenge—honestly, was he in a game or a bad movie, did they expect such childish one-by-one antics to work on him?—was a vampire.
The little bastard was quick and threw a mean punch. Charlie grunted at the first one and wiped glistening, red-gold blood from his lips. He heard the vampire laugh and managed to dodge the next swing, but tripped over something on the floor that he didn't see until too late. He went down hard, grunting at the painful jolt, and swore as the vampire grabbed him up and threw him into a stack of crates. It sent him crashing right back down again, and he bashed his temple on a piece of pipe. Damn it.
When he tried to summon his light, the ultimate weapon of an archangel, the vampire punched him again, catching him dead on his jaw. Charlie's vision swam, but he dragged himself to his feet and wiped more blood from his lips. Ah, idea.
"Come here, pretty bloodsucker," he purred tauntingly. "Even the djinn don't give me this much trouble."
"Young djinn," the vampire said, voice soft, sultry, and came at him again.
Charlie didn't resist. He let the vampire grab him, shove him into a wall—then he kissed the bastard, forcing him to take a mouthful of blood. The vampire jerked back and spat out the blood, but too late.
While he was choking and twitching on blood he could not handle—blood that was too rich, too potent—Charlie summoned a dagger of light and slit his throat. Since that was not nearly enough to kill a vampire, he finished the job with more light, pouring it into the vampire until it leaked out, and with a flash, the vampire was only dust.
He wiped sweat from his brow, panting more heavily. A two hour nap was not nearly long enough for all the energy he was pouring out. At least he was almost there.
Charlie pressed on, weaving through the last half of the warehouse until he finally reached the rooms at the back. He ignored those on the ground level because he could just barely feel the signature of Jed's magic higher up.
Reaching the rusty metal stairs in the far right corner, he climbed them, but as he reached the first landing and turned, a figure appeared at the very top. The taste of magic was acrid on his tongue, making him gag. Stolen magic was foul magic, even if humans never seemed to notice.
He didn't give the witch time to make the first strike, just flew up the stairs, grabbed him by the throat, and swung him out over the railing to choke and dangle helplessly.
An earring gleamed in the man's lobe. Carved from imp horn; despicable. Charlie tore it out, unmoved by the bastard's snarl of pain. "Those who steal do not deserve what they take," he said and let the man fall.
From the sounds he made as he landed, he would be sore, but little else, whenever he woke up. He crushed the earring into dust, brushed it from his hands, and pressed on, breaking the lock on the door at the tap of the stairs. Inside, four men pointed guns at him, but the bullets turned into useless lumps of metal as they reached the shield that Charlie threw up.
He used most of what remained of his rapidly diminishing energy to summon another burst of blinding light, and as they screamed in agony, he drew it back into a shining blade. After that, things went quickly. Four piddling humans would never be a match for an archangel, not when they finally had nowhere else to run. Charlie killed them quickly, angry that the man ultimately responsible for all this blood and death was not there. But there was time now. He would find the bastard later.
First, always first, he had to take care of his master. Charlie's eyes stung as he finally let go of his battle rage and allowed himself to focus on the man huddled in the corner.
He was rumpled, dirty, and exhausted looking. There was a bruise on his jaw, another at his right eye, and a cut on his lip. Charlie didn't doubt his clothes hid far more of the same. "Master," he said softly as he crossed the room and dropped to one knee. He dipped his head and said, "My apologies, Master, for taking so long to find and retrieve you. Whatever punishment—" he broke off with a grunt as he suddenly found his arms full of Jed, the force knocking him over to lie on his back.
"You're alive!" Jed said, looking and sounding close to tears. "I couldn't feel you, and I saw that djinn throw you into the banister. I saw the blood, saw you weren't moving as the flames—but you're alive, I can't believe you're alive, Charlie." He did burst into tears then.
Before Charlie could get a word in edgewise, Jed kissed him. Charlie froze, shocked, but when Jed started to draw away, he curled his fingers into Jed's hair, twined an arm around his waist, and held on tightly. He kissed Jed hard, deep, and tasted blood as the cut on Jed's lip reopened.
He drew back only to avoid causing further injury, licking away blood and the taste of Jed on his lips. "Master ... "
"Sorry," Jed muttered, and Charlie fought disappoint that the kiss was already being rescinded. "I'm so happy you're alive, Charlie. I thought I'd gotten you killed."
Charlie got them standing, and then hugged him tightly. "I would never die without first ensuring you were safe, Master. I exist for you. I am sorry that I took so long to find you."
"You came, Charlie. You're alive. That's all that matters to me. We should go before the others come back. They're working on a way to steal my ring, but they had to go speak with an alchemist and did not dare take me."
"I would imagine not, Master," Charlie said softly and, ignoring Jed's cry of protest, picked him up and carried him down the stairs and out of the warehouse.
Though he'd half expected more trouble on the way out, no one bothered them.
"Let me down, Charlie," Jed said once they were outside. "I
'm exhausted and malnourished, I admit it, but I can walk."
Charlie reluctantly obeyed, but kept hold of Jed's hand as they walked back to Charlie's rented room.
Jed hugged him again once the door was closed, held tightly, and Charlie thought he felt tears soaking into his shirt. "Thank you, Charlie. I was beginning to think I would be stuck in that hell forever. They kept me too weak to use my magic—most of the time I was asleep. I was only awake this time because they've been at the alchemist's for so long. And you're alive, I can't stop being awed—"
He stopped talking, buried his face against Charlie's chest, and just clung. Charlie held him, soothed him as best he could, his own eyes stinging, throat raw, with his own relief.
Whatever happened later didn't matter. He had his master back.
Sniffling one last time, Jed drew back and wiped his eyes on the dirty sleeve of his torn and frayed long-sleeved t-shirt. "I think first I need a shower before my own stench kills me. Then food. And I need to get new glasses—"
"I have your glasses." Charlie pulled out the broken glasses wrapped in his handkerchief. "I'm sorry the house burned, I should—"
Jed's fingers covered his mouth. "Charlie, you're wonderful. You've done more than anyone should ever have to. You are more than I deserve. Thank you for saving my glasses. Let me shower, eat, and rest, and I can repair them."
For a moment, Charlie thought he was going to get another kiss, and his heart thudded in his chest. He leaned his own head down slightly—and tried not to show his disappointment when Jed drew away and headed for the bathroom.
Charlie went to his suitcase and pulled out the clothes he had carried for Jed from the start, certain that Jed would eventually need them. He set them out in one of the two armchairs in the room and put the glasses on the table between them.
Out of things to do, he toed off his shoes, shucked his jacket, and lay down in bed to rest until Jed came out of the shower. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
*~*~*
He woke up to the smell of food and the sound of his own stomach growling. Looking up, Charlie blinked sleepily and asked, "Food?" Jed's laughter washed over him, warming Charlie all the way through. Everything came rushing back, one thought blazing in his head: he'd gotten his master back.
After six long months of agony, he finally had his master back. Charlie sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. His body ached from being pushed so hard, and he could feel all the cuts and bruises he had acquired in the warehouse.
He also reeked.
Ignoring the tempting food on the table by the window and smiling brightly at Jed, he dragged himself into the bathroom. He started the shower and then stripped off his clothes, throwing them on top of Jed's discarded clothes.
Steam poured out of the shower, and Charlie groaned as the hot water struck his skin, washing over him and sluicing away the dirt, blood, and sweat. The worst of his aches eased slightly, and after a few minutes of simply soaking up the wet heat, he finally picked up a bar of soap and began to scrub.
Three vigorous scrubs later, he finally shut the water off and climbed out, toweling roughly as he returned to the main room. Shuffling over to his suitcase, he quickly pulled out clean jeans, a black long-sleeved t-shirt, socks, and underwear. He dressed hastily, towel-dried his shaggy blond hair some more, and then finally joined Jed at the table.
"Good morning, Charlie," Jed said with a smile. "Well, good evening, really. But you know what I mean."
Charlie smiled and reached across the table to lightly touch his fingertips to Jed's cheek. "Good morning, Master," he said softly. "Are you well?"
Jed's cheeks flushed pink as they always did at so many of the things Charlie said and did. Charlie had missed it, feared he would never again see him smile and flush in that way.
It reminded him of their kiss, and with an effort, he pulled his hand back. He wanted more kisses—wanted much more than kisses—but he sensed if he pushed, Jed would only push back and close the matter forever. Charlie was tired of his resisting, but patience and persistence would go farther than pushing.
Patience and persistence he had.
"So," he prodded when Jed did not reply, "are you well, Master?"
"Oh! Quite well, thank you. Well enough, I think, that I can finally fix my glasses. Sit and eat, Charlie."
Charlie did as he was told, or at least started to, but he had always loved to watch Jed work. Even the most trivial of spells were made fascinating just because Jed was so good at what he did.
Jed cleared a space on the hardwood floor, wiping everything away so that it gleamed and not a speck of dust remained. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a cigarette case at a glance. Charlie was not surprised that Jed had retrieved it so quickly. Opening the case, Jed extracted a piece of chalk.
It took him twenty minutes to draw out a small spell circle that wove runes together into a spell of repair and durability. In the center of the circle he placed his broken glasses. He checked his work over thoroughly, then held his hand out over the circle and spoke the activating mark.
The room filled with a flash of gold light. When it faded away, Jed laughed with pleasure and removed his repaired glasses. He slid them on his face and smiled brightly at Charlie. "All set."
"Yes, Master," Charlie agreed with a smile, though to him Jed still looked strained. There was a touch of trying-too-hard behind his smile and lines of strain around his eyes. Shadows lurked in his eyes as well, and Charlie hated the men who had made Jed's life miserable for so long.
He waited until Jed had resumed his seat at the table, then said, "Are you sure you're all right, Master?"
"A shower, rest, and now food are doing me a world of good. I can almost forget—" he stopped, fork slipping from his fingers. His eyes slipped shut and he pressed his fingertips to them, shuddering. "Well, I did say almost," he said eventually, trying so hard to be flippant, but there was an unmistakable tremble in his voice.
Charlie stood up, moved around the table, and scooped him up. He sat down in Jed's chair and settled Jed in his lap, holding him tightly. He dared to brush a soft kiss to Jed's cheek. "I won't let them have you again, Master. Let me have your shadows, and I will burn them away with holy light."
For once, Jed didn't say anything about propriety, not being right, and advantages being taken. He leaned into Charlie, curled a hand around his neck, and held fast.
The only thing that could have made it better was a happier reason, but Charlie was just relieved Jed was accepting his comfort for once. "Master," he breathed against Jed's skin, lips ghosting over his cheek again. Jed smelled like wildflowers and sunshine, with that underlying tang that was his magic. "Let go of your shadows, Master. Give them to me."
Jed clung to him, buried his face in the hollow of Charlie's throat, and obediently let go of everything: the murders of so much of his family, six months of abuse, the agony of believing Charlie was dead, and the fear that someone would finally wrest the Ring of Solomon from him.
Charlie held him tightly, pressed soft kisses wherever he could reach, caressed and soothed, absorbed all the agony pouring out, and turned it into energy he needed, pouring back out healing energies. It surrounded them in a soft, hazy, rainbow of light, and everything around them vanished. The world was reduced to just the two of them.
It reminded Charlie of all their nights together, just the two of them against the world. A quiet meal of turkey sandwiches in the house where he had first gained a form, burgers in a motel that had smelled like sex and cabbage, and steak in a nicer hotel, one with soft beds where Jed had slept without dreaming for the first time in a long time.
So many nights spent with just the two of them. Wandering from place to place, barely staying ahead of those who so desperately sought Jed's power.
Charlie held him, healed him, served his master and reveled in being the angel lucky enough to have been granted form and given Jed's collar. There was nothing he wouldn't do
to remain Jed's angel forever.
Eventually, Jed went slack in his arms, breathing evening out into sleep. Charlie stood up, holding Jed tightly, and carried him over to the bed. He lay Jed down and removed all but his jeans and t-shirt, then settled the blankets over him.
He brushed a soft kiss across Jed's mouth and said softly, "Sleep well, Master." He rubbed his thumb along Jed's fingers and the lights around them dimmed. Returning to the table, he filled a plate with chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed carrots and broccoli. It never failed to impress him how adept Jed was at obtaining food; whatever else they had occasionally lacked in their frenzied attempts not to get captured, they had seldom gone hungry.
Charlie looked at the bed, the last of his fear and guilt easing as he saw his master sleeping peacefully. He turned his attention back to eating, and then piled everything back on the tray when he was done and set it outside for the cleaning staff to take away.
Returning to the bed, he put the lights out entirely and simply lay there in the dark, soothed by his Master's presence and the soft, steady sounds of his breathing. Reaching out, he twined their fingers together and slowly allowed himself to go back to sleep.
He woke to the smell of something burning—and the acrid taste of djinn magic. Snarling, Charlie threw a protective shell over Jed, then surged to his feet. The entire room was burning, but there was no djinn.
So likely they'd been caged in… But there was no way the bastards would simply let Jed die while he still wore the ring of Solomon. If he died wearing it, then on his finger it would stay until a worthy heir came along to remove it.
Charlie moved to the door and jerked back when the doorknob burned his hand. He stared at the burned flesh, real worry creeping in. Mere fire should not be able to hurt him so easily. It could eventually, given enough time and strength, but only in the same way a small fire might theoretically be able to melt an iceberg.
Demon magic, however ...
