By Flame

by T Thorn Coyle

  Pure.

  7

  Tobias

  Tobias was aware of the soft flannel sheets draped around his naked body, and the heavy layers of blankets beneath the comforter. Crows called to each other outside the window, and a squirrel chattered. No sound of rain, though that wouldn’t last for long. It was freezing in his bedroom. The temperature must have really dropped in the night.

  Tobias rolled onto his back and blinked up at the pale blue ceiling of his bedroom. His nose and ears were cold, but the rest of him was warm. He also felt exhausted. The emotional upheaval was taking its toll. If he didn’t have a stack of work waiting for him, he’d be tempted to curl up in bed all day, drinking cups of tea and reading novels.

  He hadn’t let himself do that for a long time. There was always work to be done when you ran your own business. But maybe he needed a mental health day, like Brenda said. He began to go over his schedule in his head. Did he have any clients actually coming in? Or was he just filling orders?

  Too sleepy to remember. He’d have to actually get some tea into himself and look at his calendar. The one thing he knew for sure was that the coven had ritual tonight. It was Imbolc. He didn’t know if he could face the coven, or Brigid. Sure, he’d called Dr. Greene, but he was still pretty pissed off, including at the Goddess.

  The light in the room was gray. Turning his head, he let his eyes wander over the three framed botanical prints hung on the deep green wall. Yellow yarrow. Pink foxglove. Blue aconite.

  Then he became aware of something else, the soft sound of someone breathing next to him. He turned his head, and there he was, the man from the nightclub—Aiden. The man who had kissed him so intently on the thrumming dance floor. The man he had taken home and kissed some more.

  There’d been a lot more than kissing last night. The room still smelled faintly of sex. It mingled with the wisps of frankincense and myrrh Tobias always burned on his bedroom altar.

  The sound of water running in the bathroom down the hall meant that his housemates were up and getting ready for work. His housemates. Traitors. He hadn’t confronted them yet. What was he even going to say to Freddie? And how was he going to pay whatever the increased rent turned out to be?

  He would need to talk with Cassiel about Tenants Union stuff. She’d had a tussle with her landlord that had ended up with her losing her apartment, but not until the coven helped expose a bunch of dirty dealings between landlords, developers, and the city.

  Arrow and Crescent to the rescue.

  Tobias exhaled, and went back to looking at the treat curled up so sweetly in his bed. The man looked beautiful in his sleep, dark eyelashes framing his closed eyes. Those eyes that Tobias knew were a piercing blue.

  That was one good byproduct of Tobias’s outrage, at least. The heat of it needed to go somewhere, and if Tobias couldn’t punch someone, and didn’t want to wreak more havoc on his office, he’d known he at least needed to go out dancing and drinking to spend some of the frenetic energy.

  The result had been pretty good this time. He’d actually brought home a man he wanted to see again.

  Those blue eyes had stared directly into Tobias’s as they had made love, as though they could ferret out his secrets. Tobias supposed he shouldn’t call what they’d done making love. You pick up a man in a nightclub—where you’ve gone to fuck because you can’t fight—and you take him home, that’s about sex, not love.

  But making love was the phrase that came to mind nonetheless. And wasn’t that a surprise? Maybe Aiden was more than just a fuck.

  He wanted to roll onto Aiden and start all over again. Beginning with the amazing kissing part.

  Instead, he snaked a hand out from beneath the layers of blankets and comforter, and gently petted the shock of seal-brown hair falling over Aiden’s face. He was so pale against the burgundy sheets—must be Irish blood.

  Aiden inhaled sharply through his nose, then his eyes snapped open. “What, what?” Aiden looked around confusedly, then his eyes lit on Tobias’s face and he blinked. “Oh. Right.”

  Tobias grinned. “Right. Good morning. Your name is Aiden, my name is Tobias. You came home with me last night.”

  “Huh.” A red stain crept up Aiden’s cheeks. “I, uh, yeah. I don’t usually do this. Uh, no, as a matter of fact… um…” He coughed, then smiled a little ruefully. “This may have been a first.”

  Tobias leaned over and kissed Aiden’s sweet lips, “Well, I hope it won’t be the last.”

  “Oh yeah. Yeah, that too. I mean, I hope that too.”

  “Can I make you some coffee? Tea?”

  “What time is it?”

  Tobias fumbled around the nightstand for his phone, “Seven thirty-five.”

  “Shit.” Aiden scratched his head, hard, as if he was trying to get blood flowing to his brain.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I have to get to the kitchen.”

  “You go to work this early?”

  “Yes.” Aiden was already out of the bed, fumbling on the floor for his boxer shorts and jeans.

  “You need to borrow some long underwear or something? I think it’s freezing out.”

  “You’re telling me. No, I’m good. I’ll run by my house on the way in.”

  “You sure I can’t get you some coffee?” Tobias climbed out of bed himself, shucking on his own briefs and jeans, pulling a T-shirt on over his head. “Or you need a shower or something?”

  “No, no, man, I’m good.”

  Aiden was clearly uncomfortable. He could barely look at Tobias. Tobias hoped this didn’t mean the end; he really liked the man, which didn’t happen often. He looked at his bedroom altar, at the statue of Brigid, the votive candle in front of it, unlit, the metal dish for incense, all of it waiting for him to say his morning prayers.

  Did you have something to do with this? he thought. He wouldn’t put it past her. Brigid didn’t usually meddle in affairs of love, or sex for that matter, but love was healing wasn’t it? Who knew with the Gods and Goddesses? It was hard to say what they were going to get involved with or not.

  If you did, thank you. Even if I’m still pissed off.

  When he turned, Aiden was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, lacing up his boots.

  “Can I see you again?” Tobias asked, leaning against the foot of the bed, rubbing the goose bumps from his arms. “Can I buy you dinner sometime?”

  Aiden whipped his head around, his blue eyes still looked startled, a little haunted, a little hunted perhaps. Tobias saw the man look at his altar, a strange look on his face.

  “Um, yeah, sure, that would be great.”

  “Okay.” Tobias picked the rain jacket that Aiden flung on the back of the chair when they’d hurried out of their clothes.

  He handed it out to Aiden, who zipped it up and wrapped a long navy scarf three times around his neck.

  “Um, well, Okay. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  Tobias moved toward the man who stood, caught like an animal. He put his arms on Aiden’s shoulders. “May I give you a kiss goodbye?”

  Aiden nodded once, twice. Tobias leaned in, and their lips met and Tobias knew—this could be it. Shit. He stepped back, and stared at the blue eyes for a moment. Aiden blinked, the long lashes covering the blue for just a moment. Just long enough for Tobias to want to see his eyes again.

  “I’ll walk you out.” He moved down the hallway ahead of Aiden, his bare feet curling on the icy wooden floor. The long white walls leading to the stairway were hung with photographs of friends, architecture he loved, photos with his housemates, Freddie and Reece, but no boyfriends. He hadn’t had one in a long time. He wondered if he could have one now.

  They made their way down, and through the living room and its long green couch, fake leather chairs, television cabinet, and one bookcase-lined wall. Tobias didn’t want to open the oiled, dark wooden panel of the front door. He didn’t want to let the day intrude. Despite Aiden saying he could text him, he had a feeling the man wa
nted nothing more than to run. But he opened the door anyway.

  It’s what men did. They let people go when they wanted to leave.

  “Thanks. Um, I had a nice time.” Aiden ducked his head.

  “I did too, I really did. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Yeah, catch you later.”

  And Tobias watched as he hurried down the steps toward the bus stop on the corner. He really hoped he’d see Aiden again.

  And, not wanting to face his housemates, he rushed upstairs, hoping to duck into his bedroom before whoever was in the bathroom emerged.

  He would have to confront them, and soon, but not this morning.

  8

  Aiden

  Wow, the temperature really had dropped. It was freezing, literally freezing. Aiden stepped carefully over frozen patches of ice from recent rains that had turned solid underfoot. His boots crunched and scraped as he hurried from the communal house he lived in, situated three blocks from the soup kitchen. He hunched under his wool hat, the hood of his coat pulled up, scarf tied tight around his neck.

  The neighborhood was on the edges of the industrial section near the river, not quite in among the warehouses, but close enough. Traffic wound down the street, commuters heading for the Hawthorne Bridge, which would take them downtown.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d gone home with that guy last night. Tobias. Unbelievable. How in the world had he let that happen? First whatever that weird thing was in the church, which was a little fuzzy in his mind this morning, then too many beers bought by a man with beautiful brown eyes. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in a stranger’s bed.

  “Whoooh,” he exhaled. What is up with you man? He could still feel the burn of Tobias’s lips on his, and the warmth in his heart from whatever had happened with that piece of stained glass. St. Brigid. He shook his head. No time to ponder; he was already late for his shift.

  The high wooden gate was already open when he arrived, that meant he was really late. He should have been in before opening to help make the tea, and get started with chopping the piles and mounds of vegetables that would make up today’s soup—turkey barley, always a crowd pleaser.

  Some guests huddled on the benches outside, among the wintering container garden. They sipped at steaming cups of tea. Most of the guests were gathered under the overhang that sheltered the outdoor seating area, sitting closely together, trying to keep warm. If he’d been here at the start, he would already have opened up the big brick dining room and let people come in. He’d talk to the crew chief about it.

  Aiden raised his hand in greeting and got a few “good mornings” in reply.

  He slammed through the metal doors to the old brick dining room, sparing a glance for the overcrowded altar, with its giant statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a cross, a Buddha, and assortment of other religious icons and objects. Despite them being a Catholic Worker, they wanted to welcome everyone, so the altar was a home to every religion, just as the kitchen tried to be a home to everyone who walked through the doors.

  People were moving slowly behind the counter, and the usual banter wasn’t happening. Even the radio was off. That was strange. He took off his hood and his wool cap and started unwinding his scarf. Stingray came toward him, with a stricken look on her face. Her mouth was tight and there were extra lines around her eyes.

  “You’re late today,” she said. No mention of the fact that she hadn’t seen him at the house this morning.

  “Yeah, sorry I got caught up. Is everything okay? People seem weird.”

  “People are weird,” she replied.

  He took his coat off and went to hang it up in the closet behind the kitchen. She followed behind. “I need to tell you something.”

  He stopped midway, arm reaching for a hanger. “What? What happened?”

  “Hang up your coat, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  Now he felt worried. There was a tension in his stomach, his belly was tight, his throat was tight. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good, he could feel it. Aiden followed Stingray into the tiny break room with its sad wall of old beat-up metal lockers and a long table filled with donated baked goods. The coffeepot still hadn’t been cleaned from yesterday; there was dark sludge at the bottom.

  “Sit down,” she said. They both sat in a couple of old pressed plastic chairs with wobbly metal legs. Everything felt wobbly. As if the whole world was slightly off kilter.

  “Would you please just tell me what’s happened?”

  She looked at him stricken, her eyes suddenly a hundred years old. “It’s Mary Jo.”

  He grew very still. “Mary Jo? I just saw her. She was just in yesterday. I sat with her before the cops came in.”

  “She froze to death last night.”

  “What? That’s impossible, I thought she was inside?”

  Stingray shook her head. “No. Her ex beat her up. She ended up back on the street.”

  “She didn’t say anything.” But she did have those bruises all over her face. Damn it. Maybe he should have pressed her on it.

  “Yeah, well, apparently they had a big blowup two nights ago and she was sleeping rough last night when the cold snap came.”

  “I don’t understand. She just… She’s dead?”

  “Apparently the hypothermia came on quick. At least that’s what the paramedics said.”

  “What are we going to do? I mean, does she have family? She has family, right? She’s talked about a sister?”

  “Back in Texas. We’re trying to contact them.”

  “Oh man.”

  “I know this is a lot to take in, and I also know that we have a lot of work to do still to get lunch prepped. Take a couple minutes, though.” Stingray squeezed his shoulder and walked out of the break room.

  Aiden collapsed backward on the chair, clutching his chest; his heart was beating too fast and he felt that fire again. That crazy flame. It felt as though it was going to engulf him.

  “Why?” he said. “Why does this shit keep happening? I don’t understand it.”

  He looked around the break room, at the day-old muffins, the sludge in the coffeepot, the short bookcase filled with paperback donations. He loved this place, but right now it looked bleak. It wasn’t a home, like they all tried to pretend it was. It wasn’t even a safe haven. It was just a bandage, a fucked-up, ineffective, bandage.

  There was that anger again, ready to spike into fury if he let it. He couldn’t let it. Looking down, he realized his hands were clenched, and slowly unfurled his fingers, stretching them wide. Then he exhaled.

  Get a grip Aiden, you have to get to work, other people need you.

  Other people always needed him. That was his job. That was the thing he had promised to God when De Porres House first took him in: that he would help. That he would always help.

  Sighing, he stood up and started to walk back to the kitchen. It felt as though his boots were filled with lead, his bones ached, and the fire still burned in his chest. He hoped it really wasn’t the sign of something worse, like a heart attack. He washed his hands at the little sink by the large dishwashing station, dried them carefully, and bent into the cabinet to drag out an apron. Just go through the motions. Get through the day.

  “Hey man.” It was Reggie, one of his community housemates, brown face already shiny with sweat from scrubbing potatoes and hauling bags of onions. “You heard about Mary Jo?”

  “Yeah man, I can’t believe it.” Aiden shook his head. “I just…” he raised his hands and then dropped them again.

  “I know man. It sucks. Well, can you get a bag of carrots out? They still need to be scrubbed and chopped. Lupe’s already working on the turkey.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get the carrots started.”

  “Peace.”

  Aiden moved in slow motion toward the glass-fronted refrigerator filled with waxed boxes of lettuce, cabbage, carrots, and zucchini. He opened the door, dragged out a big box of carrots, turned the water on in the large industrial sink next to th
e one Reggie was working at, and dumped the orange root vegetables in. They thumped and rolled as the water cascaded down. Aiden rolled up his sleeves, picked up the scrub brush, and fought back tears.

  “This isn’t right,” he muttered to the water. “This isn’t right,” he said louder, picking up a carrot and beginning to scrub at it, scrubbing away the dirt and the tiny small rootlets that looked like hairs. He threw the carrot into the next sink.

  “People shouldn’t have to die,” he said. “People shouldn’t have to die. Not like this. Not ever.”

  Reggie looked over from the next sink over. “I feel you, man.”

  9

  Nine

  It felt good to be up in Raquel’s attic, under the white peaked ceiling, preparing the altars, setting out the cushions, smelling the ghostly layers of incense from years of rituals. The space would always smell that way, he imagined, even if Raquel ever decided to move.

  He couldn’t imagine Raquel ever living anywhere else, but he supposed once Zion, her son, was grown, maybe she would.

  The attic looked beautiful; it was clean and spare, with the white canted ceiling that angled down to knee walls holding some short bookcases and chests of drawers filled with ritual objects and altar cloths.

  Since the encounter with his father had ensured that he was completely off his center, Tobias decided he would follow Brenda’s advice. After Aiden left, and his housemates had taken off for work, Tobias had emerged from his room, eaten breakfast, then gone to his office to set things back to rights.

  After he’d cleaned up the mess he’d left the day before, he took himself back home and spent the afternoon going over the basics of his magical training.

  He’d taken a ritual bath, gotten dressed again, lit a candle and sat in meditation, revisiting the same drills he’d first learned when he joined the Arrow and Crescent—centering, boundary work, the blade, the wand, the cup, the dish.