Bound by Memories

by Kaje Harper

  Darien fumbled under the covers and took his hand. “We’re pretty hard to kill, you and me.”

  “We are.” He took comfort in the truth of that, and he’d do whatever it took to improve on it. “You should ask Jasper about lessons. Maybe someone else too. If you’re not formally an apprentice, there’s nothing to say you can’t study with more than one sorcerer.”

  “Not tonight.” Darien squeezed his fingers.

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve. We have everything we need, and you’re the one lying in the wet spot. It’s bliss.”

  Silas chuckled. He’d never laughed like this, before Darien. “Anything for you, my love.”

  “Anything?”

  Silas braced himself for demands for a blow job, or the moon. “Yes.”

  “Would you get up and open the door so Pip and Grim can come in? I don’t want to move.”

  Love as light as sea foam bubbled up inside Silas, until he felt like he could float to the door. “Your wish is my command, my prince,” he said, folding back the covers and sprinting through the chilly air to turn the latch. When he came back, he dug a few handkerchiefs out of his drawer and helped Darien mop his damp skin, before doing a perfunctory cleanup on himself. Rolling the dirty wipes in a clean one, he decided against a naked sprint to the hamper, set the laundry on the floor, and stretched out. A little tussle with the blankets got them warmly covered. Darien pulled Silas in to spoon against him, his lean body a comfort at Silas’s back. Silas let himself be maneuvered and held.

  Darien kissed the nape of his neck. “Thank you. And you’re still in the wet spot.”

  “Worth it.” Silas lifted Darien’s hand from his hip, and pressed it to his chest. Whatever may come, whatever the price, a thousand times worth it. He drifted off to sleep with Darien’s palm warm over his heart.

  Chapter 8 – Grim

  The old house still held secrets Grim hadn’t uncovered. Most of them were minor, some seemed more intriguing, like the crawl space Pip had found by falling through a rotten board under the tower stairs. Grim peered down at him, giving the space a listen and a sniff. The dark tunnels were clearly occupied by rodents right now, but they’d be worth a bit of an explore. Nothing occult made itself felt to Grim’s Othersense. Probably just another cranny in a house full of them.

  Pip peered up from the hole and shook the dust and cobwebs from his head. He eyed the narrow tunnel where naked tails had vanished. “Should I chase them? If I caught a rat, I could give it to Darien for a Christmas present.”

  Grim held back a chuckle. I’d like to see that. “Rodent gifts are my specialty.” When my men need a wake-up call. “Leave them for now.”

  “Okay.” Pip scrambled up out of the hole and shook his whole body, sending more dust flying.

  Grim didn’t smell any blood, and the pup’s vigorous efforts didn’t seem to be causing him pain. He doesn’t appear to have suffered from his mishap. In which case… Grim slowly and fastidiously removed a strand of flying cobweb from his fur and gave the pup a stern glare.

  “Sorry,” Pip said. “I had to shake.”

  In a fake-hollow tone, Grim said, “I see many, many hours in your future spent learning to control that body’s instincts.”

  “Ooh! Is that a foresight?”

  “That’s a promisss,” he hissed, then laughed. His own instinct to pause everything and give himself a tongue-bath was strong, even after all these years. The youngster would do just fine. “Enough rat patrols for tonight. Come along.”

  “Okay. Can we have steak now?”

  “One more job.” Grim led the way through the echoing corridors, down the half-flight, and into the used part of the house. He swung on the door handle to the cellar steps, dropping nimbly to the floor as the door swung open. “Now follow me, carefully. Do not fall down these stairs and mess anything up. Stay on the bottom step.”

  “Yes, Grim.”

  He padded carefully down to the slate floor where the rune-map of Silas’s tracking spell glimmered faintly from the trickle of power feeding the spell. Grim made his way between the lines, feeling for changes. If they’d come down here before that council meeting, Burns might not have caught them by surprise. They’d now expanded the western part out to include Clarice and Jasper— Silas encompassing a wider territory without comment on either of their parts.

  Silas is the strongest necromancer I’ve met. Let that be enough.

  A little hint of dark, a twinge from his foresight, dimmed those lines for an instant. But when he chased the warning, closing his eyes to see better, he couldn’t locate it. In his Othersight, the runes and nodes all glowed safe and serene. No hint of demonic power growing. The future, then. With an effort, Grim set his worries aside. If he started dwelling in the future, he’d never appreciate the present.

  Which promises the pleasures of a quiet night and a tasty steak.

  He turned and bounded up the steps past Pip, who followed him. “What was that? It’s pretty.”

  “You saw the runes?”

  “Of course. I do have Othersight.”

  He bopped the puppy, on principle. “Don’t get cocky. That’s a warning system Silas cooked up. All quiet tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  A moment of nostalgia took him past the kitchen toward the front stairs, Pip trotting behind him. The big tree stood dark and fragrant. He imagined the boughs wreathed with Darien’s laughter, lights powered by Silas’s indulgent smile, with the pup bouncing till the branches shook, and the star he himself had placed nestled at the top. Another strand in the connections between us.

  Pip gazed up at the tree, his nose working. “I don’t understand Christmas, but it has wonderful smells.”

  “It’s a ritual, a celebration. Humans like them, and they have a bonding power, even without magic in them. My first necromancer was very fond of this one.” A twinge of loss hit him, and he whirled back to the kitchen, picking up his pace.

  “You never talk about your other partners.” Pip loped after him. “What happened to them? Was finding a new partner hard?”

  A new partner marks the loss of an old one. Of course it was hard. He ignored the questions to open the fridge and snag out the package of steak. A sharp claw worked to split the butcher paper, revealing two thin slices of prime beef. He grabbed the bigger one, as was his due, and pushed the other on the paper toward Pip. “Fill your pie-hole.”

  “Pie?”

  “Eat your steak.” He crouched over his, as Pip began worrying at the edge of his slice, chewing off bites. The meat smelled good, but Grim didn’t dig in. You never know what information might be important. He’s a fellow familiar, even if a young and ignorant one. “Silas is my third partner, all necromancers. I seem to have an affinity for them.”

  Pip made a little sound around the slice of beef, but blessedly didn’t ask questions.

  “My first partnership was a short one. We’d barely bonded when an earthquake hit the city where we lived. A wall came down on him. I couldn’t save him.” Six months, one Christmas full of bemused study of his human love for mistletoe and greenery, carols and ribbons, then he was gone.

  Pip set down his steak and asked in a small voice, “Did you go home?”

  “No, I felt the pull, but I resisted it. I’d barely seen anything of the human world, and I was curious.” I was hurting and not ready to face anyone. The pup didn’t need to know that part. “I roamed for a while. Cat form is perfect for that.” He smirked. “Imagine Clicks the gecko trying to make his way around in the snow.”

  Pip nodded. “Poor Clicks.”

  Well, that wasn’t the effect he’d been going for, but the pup did have a good heart. “Then I felt another call, a new magic, and I followed that appeal. That was my second partner. We were together a long time, though he wasn’t young when we met.” Gregor had failed in his seeking spell as a young man and tried again at age forty, with experience under his belt. “A lot of adventures.” His throat
closed for a moment, remembering Gregor at the end of his life. “It’s been an adventure, Grim. Don’t be sad.” Well, no necromancer had ever been able to tell him what to do.

  He bit into his steak, chewing off small bites, relishing the sharp, clean taste on his tongue.

  “Did you wander again?”

  He licked his whiskers and smirked as if amused to contradict the pup, so Pip wouldn’t see the underlying pang. “Nope, that time I went home.” Heart-sore and sure I’d never partner again. “I’d learned a lot, and I started teaching at the seekers’ academy. Bunch of ignorant young louts, but there were some promising ones among them.” Being be back home, settled in the community, working with the youngsters, had gradually healed his sore spirit. But then the good memories began to rise, and nothing there held the same intensity as his human partnership. “One day, I felt another pull.”

  Pip bounced. “That was Silas?”

  “That was Silas.” He took another bite, remembering the glowing warmth of bonding taking hold again, and young Silas, with his bright eyes and sharp mind, and kind hands. “Inexperienced and a bit arrogant, but powerful even then. He needed me to bring him down a notch.” And to back him up and help him. Foolish man, always tries to do too much on his own.

  “Do you think Darien needs me?”

  “You helped save his life already. I’d say that was obvious.”

  They finished their treat in silence. When the steak had been polished off, Grim explained to Pip how to dispose of the paper in the bin under the sink, with the right paw-hook to pull the cabinet door open. He didn’t suggest licking the floor clean. Well, he’d intended it as a joke, but why stop the pup once he’d started?

  In fact— He jumped up to the counter, fished a ginger cookie off the half-empty platter, and batted it to the floor as well. Purely for the fun of watching the pup chase the fragments around the kitchen, of course. No other reason.

  Once Pip’s clean-up was done, Grim made sure the fridge was shut tight and led the way to the stairs in the dim light. You men had better have finished with your mating, because I want my soft bed.

  Pip murmured, “Do you ever miss home?”

  Grim stopped to look back at him. “Our world? Now and then. When the humans get ridiculous, I yearn for some logic.” Or a sunset seen through the virdiyan branches, or a Mind Gathering on Solstice night. “Not enough to regret being here. Are you homesick, pup?”

  “Not really. Not if I couldn’t take Darien with me. Just, sometimes things here are so strange.”

  “Aye, that they are.” He chuckled. “Stick with me and our men, young Pip, and we’ll get you through the strangeness.” On an impulse, he swarmed up the big tree, enjoying the stretch of his muscles climbing branch to branch. Three quarters of the way up, he stepped out on a stronger limb and leaped cleanly to the banister, and then up to the top step. The star still winked safely in the highest notch.

  He turned to look down on Pip. “There’s a lot to enjoy here. Bodies that work in different ways. Scents and sounds.”

  “And steak?”

  “And tuna.” He remembered Gregor. “And adventures.”

  Pip clattered lightly up the steps. “And Darien. I like him more than anything.”

  And our men. The bond with his necromancer was a different thing from how he’d cared for sibs and parents, friends and even scene-mates, back home. Their connection had a richness, a depth and weight in both hope and pain that was intense. Addictive maybe. He wouldn’t call it love. He wasn’t some kind of sentimental fool. But it was… something.

  “Come along,” he said. “We’ve earned our places on the bed.”

  Pip lowered his voice to a whisper. “We should be careful not to wake them.”

  Grim swung on the door handle, and the door— waiting unlocked for them— creaked open. “Nonsense, child,” he said, strolling in. “They’re lucky to have us. It never hurts them to be reminded.”

  With three bounds and a bigger leap, he launched himself onto the mattress. Silas grunted as Grim landed against his chest, but then his necromancer scrunched back to make more room on the pillows. Grim moved up to the softest spot, turned in three circles, and heard the pup jump to the foot of the bed and curl up there. Yes, that’s where you belong, young Pip. Whereas I—

  When he’d compressed the pillow to his liking, he settled down beside Silas’s head. Extending both paws, he kneaded Silas’s shoulder lightly, claws carefully sheathed. He wasn’t sure why that soothed him— sometimes his cat body made itself known in unexpected ways— but he’d learned not to always resist. This world had many pleasures, and some could be indulged.

  The room settled into quiet. Darien breathed lightly against Silas’s back. Silas snuffled, then his breath slowed. Pip slept, a tiny whine followed by a contented sigh, and then a whisper of a snore. Grim settled his cheek into the pillow, tucked his paws under, and flicked his tail so the hairs tickled Silas’s face. After a moment, Silas puffed and ducked his chin lower. Grim took pity, and curled his tail in too.

  As for me, this is definitely where I belong. Then, in fond memory of a necromancer who never got to grow old, in pleasure at the fullness of his heart now, and in appreciation of the softness of his bed, he added, Merry Christmas to all.

  #######

  If you enjoyed spending the holiday with Darien, Silas, Grim, and Pip, you might like meeting Donnie and Adam, and another sweet dog.

  Don’t Plan to Stay is the second chances, hurt-comfort story of two young men who deserve better than they got the first time around. This 45,000-word holiday contemporary is available wherever ebooks are sold.

  Here’s a first-chapter excerpt…

  Excerpt from

  Don’t Plan to Stay

  Chapter 1 – Donny

  Six years is a long time.

  It was long enough for the podunk town I grew up in to have shrunk in on itself. The bus station had shut its sandwich shop and become a dusty, hollow space. The storefronts looked shabbier, even with holiday decorations up. A crust of snow lined potholes in the roads.

  Six years was long enough for a new headstone in the graveyard. They’d told me at the grocery store that Adam’s mom had died. I went to the cemetery first. I’d thought I might talk this out with her, but when I looked down at that stone – Beloved wife and mother – all I could do was wish I’d told her even once how much she was a mom to me too. In the end, I gave her the roses and walked away. They were cheap flowers, six bucks a dozen at the grocery store, no doubt frozen and dead in an hour. But she’d loved the yellow ones back when I’d known her, six years ago.

  Six years was also plenty long enough for Adam to have moved out and moved on.

  This is stupid.

  But I pushed open the glass door of Lindberg’s Garden and Crafts and went in. And there he was behind the counter, showing some woman the timers for holiday lights. He looked damned, fucking good. His hair was really short, but he was hotter than ever, filled out a bit in the chest and shoulders. He laughed, teasing the woman, getting her to add a silly ornament to her order. December was the busy season at the nursery gift center, a good season. The scent of the pine wreaths, the gingerbread of the craft ornaments, the musty earthiness of the poinsettia pots, hit me in the gut. This had been everything to me once.

  I didn’t know why I was there. Why I came back.

  I knew I didn’t belong anymore.

  When they let me out of prison, I’d planned to head out West. I was going to Seattle or maybe L.A., somewhere warmer and gay-friendly. I’d figured I’d work in Fargo for a while, save enough for the bus and a bit in my pocket, and start a new life. But when I finally had the fare and stepped up to the kiosk at the bus station, carols were on the radio and somehow my fingers tapped in “Tallbridge, ND.”

  I’m stupid sometimes. And those are my good days.

  Behind me, a laugh tugged at my memories, the faint echo of something I once knew. I turned and looked. An unfamiliar man with a full
beard was bending to listen to the babbling of a small boy. After a moment, he swung the boy up on his shoulders. The kid giggled, crowing like a rooster, and tugged on the guy’s hair. “Go, Daddy! Horsie!” When the man tipped his head around, holding the boy’s legs secure against his chest, I suddenly saw it. Holy shit, that was Adam’s big brother.

  A rush of crazy mixed feelings went through me, seeing Nate healthy. With a beard and a kid and, I guess, a wife. And a life. I tried to stomp on my flash of anger and envy, and think good thoughts. Nate was okay. Adam was an uncle. I hoped his mom lived long enough to see the rug-rat born.

  A voice behind me said, “Can I help you?”

  I didn’t turn. I didn’t even breathe.

  “Is there something you’re looking for?” Adam said patiently.

  You.

  Without letting him see my face, I said as gruffly as I could, “No.” Then I added, “Thanks,” because I was back in the real world, and it wouldn’t kill me to be polite.

  I’d changed in six years, too. A lot. My voice was deeper, and I didn’t look the same or stand the same as when I was the hot, bad boy on the block. Back before I got a lot of the attitude beat out of me. But all it took was two little words from me, for Adam to whisper, “Donnie?”

  I wanted to walk away, but my feet were glued to the floor right there beside the damned teddy-bear-ornament tree. My vision sparkled. I think my fingers went numb.

  Adam eased around me, moving like someone stalking a deer. When his face came into view, his eyes were huge. Maybe he was the Bambi. “Donnie? Is that you?”

  I took a deep breath, then snapped, “Well, I ain’t fucking Marie, right?”

  “Not unless you’ve changed teams.”

  When our eyes met, it was almost like six years didn’t happen. It was me and Adam, together, me supplying the attitude and the straight lines, and Adam doling out the punch lines and the smiles. For a moment I almost grinned at him, but then the little kid laughed behind me and I remembered that time didn’t really stand still. I looked down. Adam still had feet the size of canoes in his work-boots. “I was just going.”