A Grimoire for the Baron

by Eon de Beaumont

  “Oh God. Oh, my beautiful, sweet—oh, loves!” His seed splashed across Frolic’s cheek and chin, some of it getting into his hair.

  Frolic didn’t care, though, because watching Reg flush, tremble, and fall apart in the bliss of his release summoned the familiar tightening across Frolic’s pelvis. His muscles clenched and released erratically, his own pleasure imminent. Reg dropped down in front of him and reached for a discarded shirt to wipe Frolic’s face. Frolic couldn’t miss the love and adoration in Reg’s eyes as he smiled languidly and said, “You’re always so wonderful. Perfect every time. I love you so much.”

  He bent down and kissed Frolic gently, running his tongue over Frolic’s lips and teeth, then swirling it around Frolic’s tongue. He kissed each of Frolic’s eyes before moving around him toward Querry. Frolic looked over his shoulder to watch them kissing, Reg’s hand tickling down the side of Querry’s waist. Then Reg broke away and looked down, to where Querry and Frolic’s bodies joined.

  “Like what you see?” Querry panted.

  Reg just nodded, enthralled by the show before him. He touched the taut edge of Frolic’s hole as Querry thrust in and out of it with deep, rhythmic strokes. Then he stretched his hand out, his thumb and finger framing Querry’s shaft and Frolic’s opening, while his other three fingers cradled Frolic’s balls.

  “Frolic, do you mind if I do this?” Reg asked.

  “No. I like it when you touch me. Touch me anywhere you want. I want to share everything with you two.”

  “It’s amazing to see you like this,” Reg said, pecking up Frolic’s back and massaging his balls as Querry stroked and fucked him. “It’s so intimate.”

  “You have such a tight, sweet little ass,” Querry said, circling his hips a little to make sure he hit Frolic’s spot.

  It worked. Frolic quaked with pleasure, shaking all over as it spread to every inch of his body, so intense it almost hurt. He moaned wantonly, almost crying, and dropped to his elbows. The first time he’d felt the release with Querry, he’d thought he’d die, burn up, just shake apart with the enormity of it. He felt it again now, like he wouldn’t survive it; it was too good, too much. “Oh, Querry, yes! Reggie, I, I—God!”

  He lay there panting, almost forgetting where they were, for many minutes until his lucidity started to return.

  “Did I do it?” Querry asked, his strokes slow and shallow as he smiled at Frolic.

  “What?”

  “Did you forget your own name?” Querry asked. Beside him, Reg grinned as he toyed with Querry’s nipple.

  Frolic giggled and nodded. “I wasn’t sure what country we were in for a few minutes. Thank you. I needed this.”

  “Need any more of it?” Querry asked with a deep stab that made Frolic gasp.

  “Always.”

  “Oh, my love.” Querry grabbed Frolic’s hips and pounded into him with quick, deep strokes, obviously seeking his own release.

  To Frolic’s surprise, Reg lay down on his back and wriggled beneath him. He caressed Frolic’s belly before taking hold of his erection and guiding it into his mouth. It couldn’t have been an easy position to get into, but Reggie managed it, sucking voraciously on Frolic’s crown. He also managed to bring Frolic off twice more before Querry spilled his seed across Frolic’s back and then collapsed on top of it.

  The three of them lay on their backs, side by side, sticky with sweat and fluids, and not caring in the least. “I’m so happy right now,” Frolic told them, stretching his arm up and watching his fingers move in the firelight. “I feel like I could float away.”

  “Me too,” Reg said. “This love we have… I don’t know. Both of you mean so much to me. I love you, and it scares me.”

  “What, love?” Querry asked. “How do you mean?”

  “I’ve always lost everything I care about. Being this happy makes me nervous, like I’m just waiting for it to be snatched away.”

  Querry pushed himself up on his elbow and reached across Frolic to catch Reg’s chin with his finger and thumb. His blue eyes almost burned in the dark room as he looked down at Reg. “I won’t let that happen. I won’t let anything keep us apart, any of us, ever. I swear, it, Reg.”

  “So do I,” Frolic hurried to say.

  Reg smiled. “There’s still a part of me that believes you two can do it, can do anything. Just make sure you don’t prove me wrong.”

  All of them giggled, and before long they were kissing again, Frolic on his side facing Reg and Querry curled up behind him, dividing his attention between Frolic’s back and shoulders and Reggie’s sweet, bee-stung lips. Frolic grew hard again and reached down to stroke himself. Querry swatted his hand away, and both he and Reg took its place, both of them tugging, twisting and jerking until Frolic felt like he exploded, and whimpered through another climax.

  Querry flopped onto his back. “What is that, four of them? I think I’m a little jealous.”

  Reg snuggled closer and wrapped his arms and legs around Frolic’s smaller body. “It is certainly special. You should thank whoever made you for that little perk.”

  Frolic chewed his lower lip. “But why did he make me this way? I was designed as part of the clock tower, to direct the angels. I never should have had the chance to know I can feel this way. Why does it feel so good when one of you is inside me? Why would he have made me this way? Did he know I’d want that one day? Did he design me to want it?”

  “He never wanted you to be a weapon,” Reg said for probably the hundredth time. “He gave you free will, made you look human, and hid you away so you couldn’t be exploited. The rest of it—I don’t know. He clearly wanted you to experience all life’s pleasures.”

  “No one made you want to be with us, Frolic,” Querry said. “You chose us. Your creator couldn’t have known we’d all meet one day.”

  “I just want to know why I am the way I am,” Frolic whispered. Then he let the subject drop. Querry and Reg knew no more of his creator’s intentions than he did.

  A few more minutes passed before Querry stood. He stretched and rubbed his knees, which were covered in small scrapes, cuts, and bruises. “A tile floor isn’t the best place for this kind of thing, I suppose. Not that it bothered me at the time.” He dressed, went outside, and returned with two pails of water: one for them to clean up and another to wash the dishes. After they’d tidied up and cleaned the evidence of their union from their bodies, they got into bed together and adjusted until they found agreeable positions. Before long, Querry and Reg fell asleep, their limbs wound around Frolic and each other like a tangled fishing net and their breath warm and moist against Frolic’s cheeks. Frolic didn’t require sleep, but he enjoyed it, found it an almost decadent pleasure to lay idle for hours, accomplishing nothing but watching the strange pictures and stories play out inside his head. Tonight it eluded him. He thought about Querry’s knees, and his own, uninjured body. They were so fragile, his companions. What if something happened to them on this expedition? Frolic couldn’t help worrying as he listened to the song of the sea and the secrets whispered by the wind.

  Chapter 5

  THE NEXT morning, Querry, Reg, and Frolic left their small house before dawn, leaving everything behind but their clothing, weapons, and packs. Frolic pulled his trunk, stuffed full of diversions for the long voyage, and to which he’d attached a small axle and wheels, down the hill. He stopped and looked back at the salt-encrusted, white walls and simple, blue wooden door of their little home. In spite of everything, and though he looked forward to their adventure, knowing he’d probably never see the little place again left him feeling hollow. He consoled himself by imagining the valuable things they’d find, the challenges they’d face. When the expedition began, he’d have no spare time for rumination.

  Soon they reached the docks and the army of dinghies transporting supplies to the great ship waiting farther out in the bay. Frolic squinted at it; it appeared to be a hybrid, a traditional sailing ship augmented with steam engines. He felt a surge of excitem
ent at the prospect of examining how it worked. He bet he could improve it if the sailors didn’t object. Frolic encountered precious little machinery he couldn’t develop. Humans didn’t understand it as he did. To him, clockwork lived; it spoke to him, told him what it needed. He hoped they’d let him have a look. It would pass the time.

  The three of them made their way to one of the waiting vessels, and Frolic heaved his trunk over the side before getting in. A native Thalacean, a scrawny boy in nothing but loose trousers and a red vest, started the motor. In moments, Frolic’s home lay far behind him, and he found himself climbing a rope ladder to the deck. People, mostly locals, milled about, unloading wooden crates larger than themselves. Frolic wondered what the crates contained as the workers quickly spirited them below deck. He also saw more mundane things like barrels of lamp oil and sacks of wool, presumably intended for trade. Lord Starling had amassed quite a company, but most of them looked like hired labor. A trio of others, heavily armed and wearing pieced together bits of military uniforms, stood near the helm. One of them jutted his chin toward Frolic and his companions, saying something and making the other two laugh. Frolic became acutely aware of how everyone stared at them, at him. Not long ago, when Querry had taken him from the doll maker’s cellar, he hadn’t realized anything distinguished him from others. Now, though, he knew his white hair and yellow eyes inspired fear and suspicion in the people who saw him. Why hadn’t his creator made him look a little more ordinary? He would never know.

  “All right, beauty?” Querry whispered as he clutched Frolic’s wrist.

  “They know I don’t belong here. All of them do. They’re wondering what I am.” Frolic didn’t add how he wondered the same about himself.

  “You have as much right to be anywhere as anyone,” Reg said, his eyes full of sympathy and understanding. “Don’t let them make you uncomfortable.”

  Frolic nodded. For now, none of them could do much but wait to be directed. Eventually, Tom Teezle wove his way through the throng, standing out among the simply dressed workers in his green, tweed trousers, clean shirt, paisley cravat, and emerald, Auriental-printed waistcoat. Frolic felt the magic wafting off Tom Teezle like heat from the afternoon sand as he stood before them and crossed his arms. His expression remained unreadable.

  “I’ll show you to your cabin,” Tom said. “Am I wrong to assume you don’t mind sharing?”

  Just then, as the sailors prepared to set off, the previously clear sky darkened, and sheets of rain poured down. The crew shrieked and covered their heads with their arms. The workers hurried to protect the cargo as the rain struck the deck like bullets, too cold for the Thalacean clime. Thunder shook Frolic to his gold-alloy bones. Tom grabbed Frolic’s elbow and dragged him toward a hatch. The three of them followed the fey down a ladder into murky, humid darkness. Frolic barely noticed his surroundings; the words of the sea and sky echoed in his head. They offered a warning, told them not to proceed, to abandon their mission. Everything in creation seemed to hiss advisement at once, the myriad voices making Frolic clutch his head and shake it in an attempt to silence them.

  “We can’t do this,” he said through clenched teeth. “Nothing wants us to. We’ve got to go home.”

  “Ignore them,” Tom said without inflection. “It’s just a storm. They’re common this time of year.”

  “No,” Frolic said. “The winds and the sea, they’re warning us—”

  “You’re confused, friend.”

  “I know I’m confused!” Frolic’s voice rose as he seized the fey’s biceps. He just couldn’t articulate everything the sea, sky, and wind said so urgently to him. They didn’t relay their foreboding in words he could express. When he tried to say a few of them, Tom’s eyes widened, and he clapped his hand over Frolic’s lips.

  “You shouldn’t speak a language you don’t understand. There’s power in those words beyond your comprehension.”

  Frolic wrenched the faerie’s arm away from his face and looked deep into his oddly angled, shifting green eyes. He found no hint of anything within, just his reflection staring back at him, as if he gazed into an emerald pool. He wished he could see Tom as he did a clockwork, see how his parts fit together, what made him work, his purpose. Since he couldn’t, he said, “You know what’s going on. You must.”

  Tom pulled away and rubbed his arms where Frolic had held him. “I can say no more. Much like you, I have terms I must adhere to. It is only a storm, and I can assure you it will pass. Try to get some rest.” He pushed the latch up, and a metal door creaked open. With a sweep of his arm, the faerie indicated a small cell with a quartet of bunks riveted to the walls. It contained little else besides a large chest and some footlockers beneath the beds. The simple lanterns affixed to the beams overhead swayed with the motion of the ship, pulling shifting, eerie shadows from the sparse furnishings. It smelled of rust, damp wood, mildew, and disuse.

  Reg groaned. “We’ll be staying here for how many weeks, then?”

  Frolic stroked Reg’s waist, and he offered an appreciative smile in return. Querry had tried to explain how Reg craved the air and sky, because of his boyhood in the fields and forests. Frolic, who’d had no childhood, just a century of waiting in an abandoned cellar, couldn’t really understand how one’s early experiences shaped one’s preferences later. He certainly didn’t long for that cold, dark, and lonely room. He only knew he didn’t want Reg to be unhappy, so he soothed him as best he could, by pulling him close and rubbing his cheek against Reg’s chest.

  Querry, of course, felt no distress. He took everything in stride, as always. Nothing bothered Querry, and he always knew what to do. It reassured Frolic as Tom shut the heavy, metal door and left them. If he followed Querry, Frolic knew he’d be all right.

  “We don’t have to stay here all the time,” Querry said, stroking the back of Reg’s and Frolic’s heads. “We can go on deck and look at the sea whenever we like. It’ll be beautiful. Think of it like a holiday.” He pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads.

  “A holiday?” Reg broke away from them and kicked the door. A metallic clang echoed through the small space.

  “Reg, I thought you were onboard with this,” Querry said cautiously. He reached for Reg’s shoulder, but Reg shrugged his hand off.

  “I didn’t want this. You know I didn’t. But it was either this or be left out again, left behind. I’m here now, and I don’t intend to spend the entire journey complaining. Just don’t expect me to pretend we’re on holiday, either. All I want is to get through this and return somewhere I know we’ll be safe.”

  “Reggie, I’m sorry,” Frolic whispered. He’d hurt one of the people he loved most, and he hadn’t even meant to. In the future, he’d make sure he didn’t do anything to upset either of them if he could help it, but it was all so intricate: intentions, actions, reactions, and what provoked emotion. Sometimes the smallest things caused so much harm, and one could never predict when they would.

  “Frolic, I don’t—”

  “You don’t blame me. I know. You should. I wish you’d blame me.”

  “You blame me,” Querry said in a voice thick with shame. “I don’t know how many more times I can apologize.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Reg said. “We’re here. But, Querry, how long do you plan to carry on like this?”

  “Like what?” Querry reached out for Reg, spreading his fingers within his shiny, black gloves.

  For a long time, both Reg and Frolic stared at Querry’s outstretched hand. Finally Reg took it and let himself be pulled against Querry. Querry folded his arms around him and buried his face in Reg’s hair. “Tell me what you want.”

  Since the bunks were so narrow, they settled on the floor. Querry sat with his back against the damp, warped wood of the wall, and Reg settled between his legs with the back of his head against Querry’s collarbone. Frolic nestled on his side, against Reggie’s chest, enjoying the warm feeling of both of them toying with his curls.

  Finally Reg answer
ed Querry. “I want to be safe. I want to be free from worrying that everyone I love will be snatched away from me. God, I hate to sound like such a nonce, but you have to see reason. We won’t be this young and fit forever. Honestly, can you picture us fighting our way through some jungle in our fifties, with our paunches, gray hair, and spectacles?”

  “You already wear spectacles, Reg.”

  “Only for reading!”

  “You’ll still be beautiful to me,” Querry said, “no matter how old and fat you become.”

  Though Querry and Reg chuckled at the absurd image, Frolic didn’t. Querry and Reg were flesh; they’d grow old one day. They’d die. Nothing in the world could prevent it, not the most advanced machinery, not even magic. In less time than he’d spent waiting to be found in the doll maker’s cellar, Querry and Reg would grow old and die. Frolic knew he’d be all alone again, just like the century he’d spent in the dark. He couldn’t bear to think on it. He’d never survive without them; he didn’t want to. The idea of facing the world without Querry and Reg by his side terrified him far more than oblivion.

  “Frolic, beauty, what’s wrong?” Reg said against the top of his head. “You’re trembling.”

  In response, Frolic threw his head back, caught Reg’s neck, and kissed him, then Querry. He wanted to forget.

  EVEN AFTER they made love, Frolic couldn’t sleep. He left the bunk the three of them had managed to squeeze into and quietly slipped into his clothes. The ship rocked back and forth as it made its way through the storm, stealing Frolic’s balance as he moved into the hall beyond their room. Several times, he braced himself against the walls to keep from falling. The rain sounded like artillery fire against the decks above him as he wandered in the direction of the engine room. Before long, he opened a hatch and descended a metal ladder. It felt good to stand in the hot steam from the furnaces. The rhythmic pump and hiss of the engine, the motion of the crankshafts thrusting up and down, the flywheels spinning, and the gears turning soothed his mind. Unlike the weird language of the wind and sea he’d been able to perceive since Querry’s faerie gentleman had resurrected him, these methodical sounds made sense to Frolic; he understood how it all worked, how the pieces came together and moved against one another to produce the power the ship needed. Magic made up half of him, but he couldn’t begin to understand it as well. Machines were order, and magic unfathomable chaos.