by John Goode
“Me?” I said, laughing in wobbly fashion at the absurdity.
I could feel him nodding. “It was wasted in a burst of absolute idiocy, but standing up for Spike, very brave.”
I pulled away and looked back at him. “He is a living creature and was defenseless,” I argued.
He was already shaking his head. “You’re wrong, but I don’t wish to fight anymore.” He reached out and cupped my face. “Please.” And I saw the fear and weariness in his eyes as well.
I was shocked by the notion that he could be scared also. He had seemed to be so in control, yet there fear was, reflected in his eyes. “What are we going to do?” I asked.
He shook his head and muttered miserably, “I don’t know.” I didn’t either, so I just leaned in and kissed him. His lips were incredibly soft as they parted for me, and I felt him kiss me back. I had always thought my first kiss with a boy would be sloppy and over the top because I would want it so bad. But instead of a slobbering mess, our mouths expressed a passion that words couldn’t convey. I could feel his tongue move around the surface of my lips but nothing more. This wasn’t about lust or sex, this was about reassurance.
We needed to know we had each other.
“My bag!” he called out, breaking off the kiss. “I left my bag behind! If Spike gets to it….” He began to get up, but I pushed him back down. “You’re half-naked, it’s raining, and we have no idea where he is,” I said firmly. “Ruber, can you get the bag and get back safely?” I asked.
The ruby pulsed once as it answered. “I can if that is what you wish.” The voice still had that vaguely British accent that made everything sound slightly sarcastic.
“I don’t want you fighting or getting hurt. Just grab his stuff, and get back here on the double.”
“He can’t be hurt!” Hawk argued. “He’s an object.”
I turned back to him and shot him a look that shouted, “Shut up!”
“It is more than possible for the Changeling to harm me, object or not,” Ruber said, this time his voice obviously upset. His glow brightened, reacting to his outrage. “Not that you care.”
“Well, I do care,” I said, getting up closer to the ruby. “But if Spike gets what’s in the bag, it has an even better chance of harming all of us.”
The gem’s light subdued a bit, I hoped that meant he was calming down. “Your logic is undeniable,” it answered, bobbing in what I took as a half bow. “I will endeavor to retrieve anything of value from the domicile.”
The ruby just hovered there for a moment, which made it look like it was considering my request. “I will do my best,” it said, as it began to spin. I took a half step back as it vanished in a flash of light.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I said angrily, turning to Hawk. “He brought you here! Without him I’m dead, you wanna try to be nicer to him?”
“It,” Hawk said, oblivious to my anger.
I blinked in confusion. “What?”
“It, not he.”
That just pissed me off more. “It, he, or whatever, I owe Ruber my life! So cut it some slack, or else!” I threatened.
His smile was smug and arrogant and freaking hot. “Or what?” He raised one perfectly formed eyebrow in question.
I searched my mind for a suitable reply but found nothing. “Just be nicer, dammit!” I exclaimed as I turned to stomp off.
He grabbed my hand and stopped me. “Okay, truce!” he said, pulling me back, laughing. He kept on tugging until I sat down in his lap. My legs swung up on the couch cushions, and his face hovered over mine. “I promise to be nicer to the thing? Better?”
“He has a name,” I insisted, knowing if he kissed me I was lost.
Hawk rolled his eyes as he sighed. “Fine. I promise to treat Ruber nicer. Better?”
“It’s a start.”
This time when he kissed me I pulled him down into it.
There was a burst of light, and thunder and rain began blowing in through the door.
“Oh crap!” I said, jumping off the couch to close it. “Not only is the place trashed, but now we’re going to have water damage!” I surveyed the room and felt my stomach clench in realization of how much trouble I was going to be in. The coffee table lay in splinters, the television was smashed into the corner, and there were claws marks through the carpet that revealed deep crevices into the floor.
“Oh God!” I was dead. Suddenly, the Home Alone jokes didn’t seem as harsh. I felt myself start to cry.
He walked up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. When he spoke, his voice was as solid as granite, his conviction there for me to lean against. “Everything can be fixed. You’re safe, that’s what matters.”
“Not to my dad.”
I felt his fingers intertwine with mine, and he stepped back a pace, turned, and led me toward the stairs. “Come,” he said softly. “This day needs to end.”
I just didn’t have the energy to argue with him, and I let him lead me upstairs to my room. He started to lead us to my bed, and I stopped.
“Um, you aren’t laying on my bed in those,” I said, pointing at his jeans.
“Very well,” he said, starting to unbutton them.
“No!” I cried out, averting my eyes. “I mean those pants are trashed, you need to put something else on.”
“But I don’t have anything else.” His fingers stilled at the buttons.
After what seemed to be an hour of arguing but was really maybe five minutes, I had persuaded him to switch his jeans out for a pair of shorts so they could be washed. When he had walked out of the bathroom wearing a pair of sweats I cut down into shorts I felt my jaw do a dive toward the floor in shock. In the middle of the fight I had subconsciously noticed his body, but the whole Changeling-trying-to-kill-me-thing had kind of put the memory of what I’d seen on the back burner. Standing in my bathroom doorway, handing me his jeans, I could see every line I had missed before. Every visible muscle on his body was exposed in perfect detail. Even simple movements resulted in a mesmerizing play of light and shadow. He looked as if he was flexing his entire body at once. It took me a second to get through my head the understanding that what I was seeing was him essentially at rest. Then I prayed I never saw him strike a pose. I had no desire to recover from a stroke, no matter how hot the cause.
“What?” he asked, when all I did was stare for a few seconds in awe. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?” He turned back to the bathroom. “I knew this was a mistake; one doesn’t wear rags!”
“No! Wait!” I choked, grabbing his shoulder with my hand. It felt like grabbing a furnace when I turned him around. My fingers tightened on solid muscle, every part of him hard, perfect. I hesitantly trailed my hand down his chest, moving in the cleft between his pecs and pausing at the pendant he wore. It was an acorn that looked as if it were made of solid gold, which after what he had said about his world probably was. “You look incredible,” I murmured as my fingertips traced the ridges that made up his abs. I had never known that a human body could feel like his. “You’re perfect,” I added absently, not even talking to him anymore.
His hand covered mine, and I looked back at his face. I could see the warmth in his expression, could feel it wrapping around my fingers, traveling from his hand to my hand and then through the rest of me. He smiled reflectively and nodded, devastating as he replied, “Of course I am. I’m the heir of the Arcadian throne.”
I closed my mouth when I realized I had been waiting for him to return the compliment. “Well at least you know you’re perfect.” I tried to push away from him, but he held me fast.
“Of course I am perfect,” he said, his voice low with emotion as his face pressed to mine. “It is the blessing of my people, nothing more.”
“I’m not perfect,” I said, wondering what in the world I was doing with a guy who looked like this.
“Perhaps you are to me.” His smile and his words were genuine, and I felt my heart skip a beat. Then he kissed me, and my heart thudded
double time through a lot more than one beat.
“Are you cold?” he asked. I realized I’d fallen half-asleep watching the rain.
I shook my head as my eyes closed again. “No.”
He kissed my temple, and I felt the warm rush of affection move over me as I dozed off.
HE WOKE up staring at the window, his vision blurry for a moment as he struggled to orient himself without waking Kane in turn.
The storm had built up momentum and ferocity. Sheets of rain accompanied by howls of wind slammed against the glass, but they were not what had roused him. The sky was dark outside the window, and except for spatters of illumination provided by brief flashes of lightning, not even the tree next to the house was visible. The light woke Kane momentarily but Hawk could tell the boy was drifting off, his arms were folded across his chest as if cradling something.
“Are you cold?” Hawk whispered, gauging how awake Kane was.
“No,” the boy answered drowsily. After a few seconds, Kane’s breathing evened out, and he obviously fell back to sleep. Hawk leaned forward and kissed his temple. Smiling against Kane’s hair when he turned his head into the caress.
Hawk waited for the boy to sink deeper into slumber before disengaging himself from their embrace. He slowly eased off the bed, listening to the human’s breathing before every move.
He paused at the side of the bed, looking down at him and wondered what he was doing, startled at the depth of his feelings for someone he’d only met a few days before.
Clinically, he would say that he was desperate and alone in a strange world and that the human’s affection provided him with a crutch. He could rationalize that the romantic feelings he was experiencing were, in truth, a desire for some kind of connection in this trash heap of a world and that those feelings were exaggerated by the stress of his situation. If he were a Healer, he might say that there was nothing about Kane that would continue to attract him once things calmed and he adjusted to the world around him. And if he were a Healer, he’d point out the logic of his arguments.
He might say all of that if he didn’t know in his heart how much he already cared. Didn’t know that the logical approach was wrong on every level he could imagine.
Hawk took the blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed and draped it over Kane, careful not to wake him. Without a sound, he walked across the room to the window. The storm raged against the glass, shaking it as the wind shifted.
He should leave. Every second he was with Kane, he put the human in danger. Spike’s jealousy would know no bounds, and it was just a matter of time before the creature attacked again.
And if Hawk left—he clenched his fists against the pain that notion caused—the boy was still in danger.
There was no guarantee the Changeling would follow him if he fled the town. Spike had already attacked Kane once, and Hawk knew there were no guarantees that it wouldn’t attempt the same thing again. If he was honest, he didn’t know whether the possibility of having Hawk to itself on the road was enough of a lure. Spike might follow him, after he’d done away with Kane. He had to make a choice and make it quickly. If he was to leave, he needed to be gone before Kane woke up. He would never leave once he looked into Kane’s eyes; that much was clear. Struggling with his choice, he rested his forehead against the window and focused outside. Something out of place caught and held his attention. Squinting, he looked down at the rain-soaked outer windowsill.
In the wood, there were fresh claws marks, three claws to a foot. Suddenly, Hawk knew what had alerted him. Spike had been watching them slumber. Mere steps from an easily opened or broken window, Spike had been staring at them. At Kane. Hawk’s left fist slammed down on his leg at just the notion that Kane might be harmed. In that instant, Spike made Hawk’s mind up for him.
IN HIS dire wolf form, Spike howled miserably as he loped down the street. Spike had gone back to give Hawk one more chance to change his mind before things went too far. When he had spied the two of them asleep on the bed together, Spike had known that the situation had already strayed out of its control. He burst through the wooden door of the abandoned house they had been staying in as if it was paper. The minor act of destruction satisfied a tithe of his anger. Bent on taking Hawk’s pack and leaving with it, perhaps so that Hawk would follow and retrieve it, Spike glanced up and skidded to a halt in surprise.
The ruby floated at head level as various objects around the room floated toward it and into the pack. “Hello, Spike,” it said in an overly cheerful tone.
The Changeling hissed in anger as it leapt at the artifact.
It collided with a pale red shield that surrounded the ruby; in a matter of seconds, Spike landed on the floor in a stunned heap. “Make no mistake. The fact that I cannot initiate offensive actions against you does not mean that I cannot defend myself.”
Spike shook his stupor off, and he morphed a human mouth onto the wolf’s head. “Why are you here, gemling?”
“I am collecting the prince’s belongings. The question is, what are you doing here?” Spike loathed the condescending tone in the gem’s voice; he always had. “Your service to him is done, there are no ties keeping you on this world.” The ruby floated closer to him. “So why are you still here?”
“The prince—” Spike began and was immediately cut off by Ruber.
“You attacked the prince and tried to slay his… well, consort, I suppose. The next time he sees you he will run you through with his sword.”
Spike snarled as he paced around the gem’s shield. “And what about you? How much do you think you are valued, given away as a gift. Twice.”
The room grew silent as the two magical creatures stared at each other. Finally, Ruber pulled the satchel nearer to him. “Go home, Spike. If you know what’s good for you, leave this place and never look back.” The glow around him began to intensify as he opened the portal back to Kane’s home. “There is no way you can get to the boy with Hawk guarding him. We both know you cannot best him in combat.” There was a rush of air as the gem and pack vanished from the room, leaving Spike to meditate on the ruby’s words.
WHEN RUBER appeared back inside Kane’s house, he was shocked to find Hawk trying to sweep up the wreckage that had once been the human’s living room. “Your gear, majesty,” the ruby announced, depositing his bundle on the couch.
“My thanks,” the prince growled as he fumbled with the broom. “Is there an enchantment for this? So far nothing is cleaner!”
“May I ask what you are doing?”
Hawk looked over at the ruby in confusion. “What does it look like I am doing?” he snarled.
“Making a moderate fool of yourself with a broom,” the gem answered with more than a little sarcasm.
Hawk’s glare was withering. “Do I have to remind you I am still heir to—”
“The Arcadian throne, yes, I am all too aware. Must I remind you I am not your property and that we are not in Arcadia?”
Hawk tossed the broom down. “I know exactly where I am, and I don’t care if you are my property or not. I am a prince, and I won’t be addressed—”
“So am I,” the ruby interjected, stopping Hawk in midsentence.
“What?”
“I am considered a prince in my lands, yet you have addressed me in far worse terms.”
Hawk tried to find an answer, stumbling over his words. “It’s different, I mean, you are a gem, and I am—it doesn’t matter! We are not in your lands, so what does it matter?” he blurted out.
“My point exactly,” Ruber said, floating directly in front of the prince’s face.
Hawk considered swinging at the insolent artifact, but he knew it was right. Instead, he knelt down and retrieved the broom.
“Again, I must ask, what are you doing?” Ruber asked.
“I am attempting to tidy up some of the destruction I have brought to his house.” Hawk went back to trying to get the broom to clean up the room by moving it over the debris. “It is my fault it came to th
is, and I feel the need to make restitution.”
“Because you are honor bound,” Ruber stated, not asked.
“Because Kane should not have to pick up my mess after me,” he clarified.
Neither spoke for several minutes as the prince tried to find the magic of the device, and the gem looked on in amazement. “If I lived another hundred thousand years I would have never thought to see such a sight.”
“What?” the prince snapped, not looking up from his task.
“An Arcadian noble attempting to wield a broom.”
Hawk turned to take issue with the floating gem. Instead, the magical device slipped between him and the broom. A brief click and the broom hummed with power. The broom hovered upright next to Ruber, awaiting orders. “You are aware Spike is not going to give up?” the ruby asked as it began to manipulate the broom.
Hawk nodded. “It desires the human’s death.”
“The house can be warded against intrusion, but it is a stopgap at best. The boy’s father will be home soon, and you two must leave at some point.”
Hawk collapsed into the large chair sighing wearily. “I know.”
“You must take the fight to the Changeling,” Ruber said, gathering a pile of wreckage. “It is the only logical choice.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he growled back. “If Kane had allowed me to slay Spike in the first place, this would be a moot point.”
The ruby continued to talk as it manipulated the broom around the wreckage. “Yes, but of course, slaying a defenseless foe that is flat on its back is not exactly what I would call honorable combat.”
“The creature attacked an unarmed human! How honorable do you call that?” Hawk retorted.
“Ah,” the gem said, casting a reconstruction spell on the pile beneath it. “But Spike is just a creature, and you are the heir to the Arcadian throne.” The pieces began to reconstitute themselves into their original forms under the careful ministrations of the ruby. “If there is a difference besides simply a title, what is it?”