by A. Nybo
When he loosened his hold on her, Lucy stepped back, and Leon offered a comforting smile. Her teary blue eyes peered up at him. Smudged makeup made her look like a spectacled bear. “Okay?” He rubbed her arm.
She nodded. “Mm.”
“Do you need help?”
“No. S’okay.”
When Lucy left the room, she took Leon’s connectivity to something solid. He once again experienced that uncomfortable dithering detachment.
Sergei rose to his hands and knees and began searching the ground. “Help me look for the earring Lucy is missing.”
“Really?” Leon held his head as though he could keep his thoughts from spinning off their axis. “We’re going to search for a missing earring?” He gave the floor a cursory glance. “I think there are more important things we should put our minds to.”
“It’s not just an earring. I made it for her, and if Evgeni knows that, then he has it in his hand right now.”
Apparently there was importance attached to the earring, but Leon didn’t know what the hell it was, and he wasn’t sure he was capable of understanding one of Sergei’s explanations at the moment. Like Sergei, he got on his hands and knees and began searching around the kickboards. “If he’s probably got it, then why the hell are we looking for it?”
When Sergei stopped searching and examined him, Leon wondered if what he’d just said didn’t make sense—the hell if he knew anymore.
“Leon, are you all right?”
“No, I’m not. I’m not fucking all right,” he hissed. “He turned into a wolf and then disappeared like David bloody Copperfield.” A laugh of disbelief burst from him, and the energy driving his temper fled. “I didn’t just say that, did I?”
Sergei searched the floor again. “You saw him for what he is. He is a wolf, Leon.”
On his knees, Leon threw his hands in the air. “Of course he is. And I’m a fucking seal.”
Sergei glanced over his shoulder. “You’re not. But if you clap and give a bark right now, it would be a passable imitation.”
Leon ignored Sergei’s attempt at humour—at least he thought it was meant to be funny. “But he’s a wolf,” he said, with biting sarcasm.
“Yes, he is.”
Leon sat on his haunches. “Stop, Sergei! Just… stop.” There was so much pressure in his head he thought he might have an apoplectic fit. “I don’t know what is real and what isn’t, and your joking isn’t helping!” He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes to keep his brains from leaking out. That sprint after Evgeni hadn’t helped at all. Removing his hands, he blinked several times until the room swam back into focus.
“Sorry.” Sergei’s remorseful expression cooled Leon’s anger and anxiety more than the spoken apology. Sergei sat on the floor. “Evgeni is a predator, a wolf. What you saw was not him physically, but a projection of who he is.”
“So I was chasing what, a… a… fantasy?”
“No, it was very real. Try to think of it like this: there is more than one dimension at work at any one time, and what you experienced today was a melding of those dimensions, but they don’t have the same laws. You chased Evgeni, the man, and somewhere along the way he was able to stop and send his spirit on, which was like a projection, and it was able to change form. That’s why you thought you were chasing the man that turned to a wolf and then just seemingly disappeared.”
“So I was chasing a bloody ghost?”
Sergei sat thoughtfully. “If that is an easier way for you to think of it. But make no mistake, Leon, that wolf could have turned and wounded you. If you could see the wolf, then you would see any injuries it inflicted, but to an onlooker, they would recognise you were in pain, but they wouldn’t be able to see anything wrong with you.”
Leon decided his confusion must have shown on his face when Sergei tried a different tack. Either that or Sergei realised how limited Leon’s comprehension currently was.
“It’s like when someone has a sore back. They are in extreme pain, but there is no wound, nothing visible. It doesn’t make the pain any less real because it can’t be seen.”
Given the way his head was feeling, Leon could relate all too well to that analogy. “So you are saying, what? That Evgeni is a shaman too?”
Sergei’s lips pressed together. “He has Sámi strong blood, which is bolstered by the Karelian. Think of him a bit like a first-year apprentice—he has some ability, but he is unable to do complex things on his own unless the Karelian has prepared him specifically for those things.”
“And projecting your spirit is a beginner’s trick?” Leon didn’t bother trying to mask his sarcasm.
“You are not listening, Leon. It is not a trick. It is dimension melding, which is very real, and it is not something for beginners. He would have spent much time with the Karelian before coming here.”
Maybe that’s why Evgeni had seemingly disappeared when he was twenty-five. He’d gone to study under the Karelian. “Probably why he took so long to get here.”
Sergei stared off into space. “I suppose I was lucky in that respect. If Grigori had been more in touch with his emotions, it would have all come out much earlier, and I would have been nowhere near strong enough to deal with the consequences.”
“I’m ready.” Lucy came into the kitchen, a bag in each hand. She set them down. “What are you doing?”
“Lucy, I need your other earring,” said Sergei.
“What?” Her hands went to her ears, and she gave a yelp when her fingers touched her left lobe where the earring had been pulled free. She gave Sergei her remaining earring and left the room, presumably to check her damaged ear.
Sergei put the earring in a glass.
“We need to get back before we’re missed,” said Leon.
“Maybe we can borrow Lucy’s car,” said Sergei. “We can park it one street over in case Evgeni knows it’s hers.”
AS THEY were leaving Lucy’s, Sergei put a few centimetres of red dirt in the glass and set the earring in the centre so it wasn’t touching the sides before three-quarters filling it with more dirt.
Finished burying the earring, he rose from a crouch to find Leon sitting in the passenger’s seat and Lucy in the back seat. “Looks like I’m driving,” Sergei muttered to himself. He settled into the driver’s seat and handed the glass to Leon. “Be careful with that. The earring needs to stay covered.”
Lucy tapped on his shoulder, and when he turned, she held the car keys out to him.
Between Leon and Lucy, Sergei didn’t know who caused him more concern. On the drive back, both were quiet, and it was unlike either of them to be short on words. Leon hadn’t even asked why the earring was buried in dirt—in fact neither of them had, and since Lucy had no idea it was related to shamanism, it should’ve seemed especially strange.
He parked the car a street over and opened the door.
“Wait up,” said Leon. He jammed the glass between his knees to keep it upright and lifted his T-shirt over his head. “Put this on. Cover those bruises. No need to draw more attention than absolutely necessary.”
Sergei took the shirt and slipped it over his head. As he did so, the scent of Leon surrounded him, and a lightness of being accompanied the desire to sit and smell the shirt for a while. Maybe they’d find him in a few days, still in the car, the shirt pressed to his nose.
Forcing himself to leave such thoughts behind, he got out and fell in beside Lucy as Leon led the way to the house.
Trying to get the shirt to sit more comfortably, he wriggled his shoulders and pulled it out at the front. When he let it go, a whiff of Leon’s odour puffed up to his nose. The scent dissipated all too soon, so he flapped the shirt again. This time he happened to be watching Leon’s back, and the combination of fragrance and the visual of rippling muscles gave him a peculiarly heady sensation, mixed with an erotic thrill.
Wordlessly, Leon handed the glass to Lucy and fished in his front pocket for the house keys. The action caused Leon’s jeans to hug his arse
just that little bit tighter, and as Leon’s hand moved in his pocket, the denim on his butt moved in all sorts of wonderful ways that had Sergei mesmerised.
Sergei and Lucy dropped back a little to allow Leon to unlock the door, and Sergei revelled in the sight of Leon’s bare, broad shoulders. His gaze slid down to Leon’s slim hips, and a strangely delicious weakness came over him as Leon turned slightly. Something about the way his thighs led into that tight, shapely arse had Sergei almost melting on the spot with need and desire. It would have come as no surprise to find himself panting and drooling. Never in his life had he reacted so potently to visual stimuli.
So consumed was he by the erotic vision before him, he didn’t care if either Lucy or Leon noticed he was now sporting a hard-on. His cock pulsated in his jeans, and a wet spot was developing—bloody hell, he was worse than an animal in heat. Either the spirits were teasing him, or they were trying to communicate something to him.
Leon ushered Lucy into the house and had turned to steer Sergei in when their eyes met briefly. Leon’s gaze immediately slid down to the bulge in Sergei’s jeans. Sergei had to wonder what the hell his expression had been that Leon had read it so clearly.
A moment of confusion showed in Leon’s eyes but was quickly overridden by a wave of heat. Leon snapped his gaze away and cleared his throat. “Lucy,” he muttered, reminding Sergei how low the chances were they could do anything to ease his state of arousal.
Sergei’s breathing quickened.
Leon’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”
He was more than okay, but if Leon came any closer, he doubted if Leon would be. Sergei wanted to rip Leon’s jeans from him and bury himself so fucking deep he’d think he was in the Mariana Trench.
Sergei blinked slowly as the image of the two of them locked in copulation flooded his mind. His breath stopped, and he held it, as though he could keep the image there forever so long as he didn’t breathe.
“Sergei.”
Sergei’s eyes flew open, and seeing Leon’s hand coming towards him, he jumped back.
“Don’t!” His hand shot up and he gasped for breath. “Don’t come near me. Just go inside.”
Leon scanned the road frontage. His expression transformed to concern. “You can’t stay out here.”
“Move away so I can pass, then.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t….” He shook his head. “I can’t trust myself near you.”
The spirits were messing with him. Had he not done something they wanted? Bieggolmai! he screamed in his head, as if summoning the god of the winds—unpredictable bastard!
Leon stepped right away from the door before casting another glance out to the road. “Go.” He waved Sergei in.
Not dallying, Sergei hurried into the house and, ignoring Lucy’s questions, continued straight through to his room. He couldn’t be around Leon a moment longer. This needed to be addressed immediately before he did something that could never be rectified.
He tore the T-shirt over his head and threw it to the opposite side of the room. Having Leon’s scent so close was not helping. The restriction of his own clothes had him stripping off his jeans and trunks, his erection bobbing heavily as he paced the room.
He tried to stay away from the shirt, but it acted like a magnet, constantly pulling him back. Each time he neared it, he fought not to snatch it up, but when the entire room seemed to fill with Leon’s scent, he succumbed. He grabbed the shirt and, lying on the bed, held it to his lower face.
Deep inhales allowed the smell to permeate his mouth, nose, throat, and lungs, and the scent transformed to sexual heat. It shrieked in his veins and leached through muscle and skin to jangle each nerve ending like Leon himself was assaulting him with passion. Sweat prickled his skin as sensations built upon each other, increasing his arousal to torment.
Each inhale caused his cock to throb and flex; precome pooled on his belly. A remembered image of Leon beneath him, legs spread wide in invitation, accentuating those slim hips and powerful thighs, made him dizzy with lust.
As he came, Sergei’s body convulsed with such violence that an animalistic growl was forced from his lungs. Another powerful spasm had all his muscles locked for long moments. When they finally released, he gasped, but before he relaxed completely the aftershock that ran through him was electric. Muscle fatigue caused his body to melt into the bed.
Completely wrung out, he didn’t have the energy to lift his eyelids. In the quietude of aftermath, images of Leon rose and fell like gentle waves: Leon smiling, his sleepy annoyance, flustered Leon, the way his brows pulled down and his lips thinned when he was pissed off. The mental slideshow was pleasing and heart-warming. As time passed, the images faded, and a sliver of discomfort wriggled its way in.
The atmosphere became charged and turbulent. The spirits were obviously discontented, but other than that it had something to do with Leon sexually, Sergei wasn’t sure what they were levelling their displeasure at.
He dropped the T-shirt he was still holding, but whether it was the movement or the dropping of the shirt, one of the actions caused the energy in the room to crackle like a rattlesnake preparing to strike. He moved purposefully, but there was no change. The moment he retrieved Leon’s shirt, the turbulence calmed a bit. Drawing the shirt in, he held it to his chest, and the pervasive peacefulness was instant.
Exhausted muscles made him grateful to be lying unmoving, but his mind worked, trying to determine what the spirits were telling him. He needed to stop letting his thoughts spin and allow the spirits in.
Since he’d unintentionally got semen on Leon’s shirt, he used it to finish cleaning himself up. Fighting weariness, he lifted his drum and held it so the back was to his face, creating a little echo chamber. He set up a slow soft chant to call the spirits, occasionally tapping the drumhead close to the symbol representing his primary helping spirit and chanting the name he’d given it.
With the first sensation of the energy, so familiar to him, telling him the spirit was near, he hit the drum several times in quick succession and welcomed the spirit before returning to beat out a constant low rhythm, calling the others.
Once his familiars had gathered, his chanting grew louder, the tempo quickening, and with a few sharp cracks on the drum, he opened his eyes.
Alternate worlds wavered before him, and the sound of wings cutting the air came from behind to swoop just clear of his head. Magpie ushered a forward step, and he followed into the dimension elect.
He walked a riverbank. Movement on the other side drew his attention. A wolf kept pace with him, its yellow eyes keen and watchful. Their eyes met, and they regarded each other for long moments across the water.
The river narrowed, and Sergei knew he had to turn back now before they came together. He wasn’t ready.
Turning, he followed the river back, but his way was blocked by the spirits. Magpies and a snake joined the two goannas that had come together to block the path, each goanna at least two metres long. One of them reared and stood on its hind legs, using its tail to balance. It looked across the river towards the wolf and then, lowering itself to all fours, moved off the path. The spirits agreed—he wasn’t ready to face Evgeni yet.
Sergei made to walk away, but a magpie flew at him, keeping him from leaving. No words were spoken, but an exchange took place as he watched the animals play, the things they did, the themes that emerged. In this dimension, the passage of time was disparate. Night came, days passed, and when he finally opened his eyes back in the bedroom, he knew what had to be done.
Without a clock or natural light, Sergei couldn’t determine how long he’d been locked away in the room. He donned a pair of trackpants and went out into the lounge. Since Lucy was nowhere to be seen and Leon was asleep on the couch, Sergei decided it was night and that Leon had given up his room to Lucy.
He sat on the edge of the couch and ran his fingers through Leon’s hair. The shortness lent it more body than the silkiness would otherwise suggest, and it swished throug
h Sergei’s fingers with a pleasing flick. Leon was smiling long before he opened his eyes, and Sergei experienced a powerful flush of affection for him.
Leon blinked several times. “Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep. “You okay?”
“Um-hum. How are you?”
“Feeling a lot better. There’s a meal in the fridge for you.”
“Thanks. How’s Lucy?”
Leon rolled onto his back and dropped his arm onto Sergei’s lap, where he caressed his leg. “Confused. She was asking how we knew she was being attacked, but I couldn’t tell her anything other than that I chased you.”
“I’ll speak to her in the morning.”
“What happened at the door today?” Leon asked.
“The spirits wanted to teach me a lesson.”
“Mind if I ask what?”
“How to share something with you.”
Leon cast a dubious look at him. “No offence, but I’m not sure I want to experience any more shamanism.”
Sergei tried to hide his disappointment. “Hmm, I think you might change your mind if you’ll allow it, but entirely up to you.” He rose. “But before that I need to eat and shower.” He smiled with satisfaction when Leon followed him to the kitchen. That small act showed how much Leon wanted his company. “What day is it?” Sergei asked. He got the plate out of the fridge.
“The same day as yesterday.”
Leon was so cute when he was drowsy. Sergei grinned. “How can it be the same day as yesterday?” He put his meal in the microwave and set the timer.
“I mean it is the same night as….” Leon rubbed his face and then looked at his watch. “Lucy arrived yesterday afternoon, and it is now 2:10 am the following morning.”
“I guess that makes a strange kind of sense—if you’re half-asleep.” Seeing the glass on the counter with the earring in it, he put it under the tap and allowed water to drip into it to compact the dust.
