by Kit Fortier
He didn't know what he was thinking. If he was thinking, it was with his dick, he figured. He moved too fast, asked too much, and in the end in this sphere of reality, he was reminded of how short everything was. The man was a drifter, after all. What could possibly come of that?
Fox could have cried at the stupidity of it. He wanted something that seemed impossible to achieve. What he reached for was always just outside his grasp. His father wouldn't understand. Not that it was a bad thing, but Martin Foster lived in a small-town paradise. He was content to spend his days fishing on the lake, or sidling up to the bar at the pub. That was the joy of having enough money to be more than comfortable, a big fish in a little pond.
Where was this coming from? What could he expect with a drifter he literally slept with and fooled around in a shower with? The real kicker was that Jake had been in town a mere few days. Nothing about this read as normal to a rational person.
But his heart hammered every time he thought of Jake's eyes on him.
His mother filtered into his thoughts. She always told him to follow his heart. She did, after all, and he was born. She did again, when he was six, and she was caught with their pastor, defiling his office with sweat and sex and sin. Dad forgave her. She did again, when Fox was ten, and she followed her heart. It was in some flashy tourist's suitcase, as she rode out of town in his flashy car, on the way to a flashy apartment in Manhattan. Dad forgave her over time, but Fox could not. He always saw the sadness in her eyes. It screamed that even though Fox came into their lives, she wasn't connected to the man who fathered her child. Fox smiled, again and again, hoping that since he was a good boy, she would be happy.
But it was evident she never really connected with him, either. He hadn't been enough, and that dogged him persistently. It was clear she wouldn't come back. After all the letters and phone calls between her and Fox's dad, she never addressed him. Never asked about him. He might as well not have existed at all. At the end of the day, the only one who truly cared for Fox was his father.
Fox was grateful for that. But the damage of abandonment had been done.
The connection with Jake was undeniable. Fox couldn't shake it--the easy laughter, the life the older man had lead before they met, the attraction. To make it worse, there was the literal mystery in the mysterious drifter. It niggled at Fox like an itch between the shoulder blades. Fox never saw Adam like this--the man he dated through his first year at Sheridan. With Adam, he was made to feel like convenient company. That their relationship lasted for a year surprised them both. But there was no connection, no spark.
Fox definitely experienced a spark with Jake. Literally. Figuratively. But now, yet again, Fox was reminded that he wasn't good enough to make someone stay. Was that his fault? Or Jake's?
Either way, it didn't matter. The sting was the same.
A drop fell onto Fox's hand. From his eye. He let out a shaky breath. The dashboard clock told him he'd wandered, lost in the hallways of his thoughts for about an hour.
There was a quiet knock on the passenger window. Jake. In an arm, he carried a paper grocery bag. Fox swiped at his eyes quickly and dashed any lingering tears away. Jake's eyebrows furrowed from the other side of the truck door.
Fox stared at him. He reached over and unlocked the door. Jake got in and closed the door, putting the paper bag at his feet. He stared at the dashboard for a minute before he turned his gaze to Fox.
"I usually don't lock my doors," Fox said plainly.
"Force of habit, I think," Jake replied.
"Small town. Everyone knows my truck."
Jake nodded. Silence followed.
"I know I'm not here long, Fox. I'm sorry that keeps coming up."
"You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. You've said it from the start, and I think you've been pretty honest."
More silence. Fox realized he had been gripping the lower half of his steering wheel rather hard. He let go and stared at his hands as they pinkened with rushing blood.
"I'd be happy to join you for dinner."
Fox held his breath.
"If you still want to--"
"Sure. Let's--Let me… Let me get back to my place to get everything together. Probably need a couple of hours."
Fox watched Jake's hand slide into his own. Again, that strange jolt zipped up his arm and across his chest. Jake's fingers closed around Fox's.
"Do you want to stick around while I cook? I'd ask you to help, but even though I have a full kitchen compared your kitchenette, it won't fit us both."
"Can I join you in a bit? I've got some things to take care of in my room."
Fox nodded.
"Fox, look at me."
He did.
"Whatever happens, let's enjoy this time, okay?"
Fox took a shaky breath as he nodded. Jake said that earlier, and it was definitely more profound the second time around.
"You're such a surprise, man. I won't lie--I thought you'd be a quick one-nighter, but the idea of that now leaves such a shit taste in my mouth. I think we can be great friends. In fact, I'd like that."
Fox sighed.
"Can I kiss you?"
Fox's eyes drifted over Jake's face. Why did he ask? It occurred to Fox that he asked, because he said he wasn't out. He shuddered. He wasn't out, but he wasn't a closet case, either.
"Please," Fox said.
Jake took Fox by the chin, guiding his own lips to lay over Fox's. Fox opened his lips to take a breath, and accepted Jake's tongue against his own. The kiss was slow, sweet. Jake kissed like he wanted to savor Fox's taste for as long as he could. Hours could have passed, and neither would know it. Neither man would care. Fox broke the kiss.
"Let's get you back to the lodge," Fox said, almost unable to tear himself away from Jake's pale, silver-blue gaze.
5. Silver and Salt
*** Jake
Jake left Fox at the door to his apartment. With a quick peck on the cheek, Jake returned to his own room.
He locked the door, and also threw the latch. There was always an in-case, a precaution. He wouldn't risk anyone walking in on him performing a transmutation. He would have sealed the door shut with alchemy, but on the off chance someone used a key card, there'd have been too much explaining to do.
Jake hastily made his bed, simply spreading the covers out to make a large, flat area. He pulled up his pack and rifled through pockets until he found what he was looking for. It was a small container of pourable salt in a plastic bag, and a single five-ounce ingot of pure silver. He alchemically separated the ingot from a twenty-pound ingot that he carried. Whenever he needed to replenish his reserve, he pulled it from the ground whenever he could. But Wyoming was almost entirely devoid of ancillary precious metals. Nonetheless, he came well prepared. Jake pulled silver from Globe, Arizona, after completing his rituals in Sedona. It was out of the way-six hours round trip by Uber-but worth it. The other metals he found were worth it, too.
Jake pulled out a large rolled-up parchment of leather, spreading it onto the bed. A thick circle with intricate marks along the outer edge was cleanly burned into the scroll. There were also four smaller circles with alchemic markings on the inside of them. One circle was labeled "SVLPHVRIS". Another, "MINIVM". Another, "ARGENTVM". The last, "SALIS". There were a series of three overlapping squares at different angles. They connected the inner edges with each other. It created a gigantic, intricate twelve-point ring inside the encompassing circle.
Jake placed the ingot in the center, an area where no other markings existed. He touched the symbol in the circle marked ARGENTVM and focused on an all-too familiar litany: Silver, focus. Sulphur, calcination, solution, separation. Mercury, cibation, sublimation. Salt, exaltation, multiplication. Silver, Sulphur, Mercury, Salt . Jake repeated the last four words of the litany ( Silver, Sulphur, Mercury, Salt) in his head until his task came to an end. He kept an eye on the block of silver as it turned into a bubbling lump. It then rapidly fractured, and the piec
es fractured, and those pieces fractured. Soon, what was once a block of silver was reduced to a pile of silver dust.
When the silver was as fine as baby powder, Jake pulled a small re-sealable plastic sandwich bag from his pack. He held his breath as he gently poured every granule into the bag and poured an equal amount of salt in with it. He sealed it up when he finished and replaced his salt container into his pack, wrapped in plastic as before. A quick glance at the alarm clock showed he had been at his transmutation for about ten minutes. Still enough time for the next part. Jake tidied up his pack and replaced it.
Thoughts of Fox flooded Jake's head. He hadn't been in the habit of conversing with anyone he ran across, or even attempting to get to know someone. Not since Sully. Not since leaving Ben behind. He barely knew Sully except for what he taught, and Ben…
He summoned up the last time he saw his son. A gangly twelve-year-old, clear blue eyes, a mop of jet black hair, asleep in the guest bed of the family they lived with. They were the closest people from Jake's military days that he considered family-also out of the service, willing to help a friend in need.
But Fox… There was definitely a puzzle. Jake had spent a brunt of his military life sharing a bed with anyone who had a nice ass and a great smile. Even more so when he went back to school for a couple years. Mostly men, a few women-sex was an itch to scratch. And for him, he rarely scratched the same person twice.
There was something deeper, though. Jake was aware of what it was like to be near beings connected to the Outside. They often pulled on the Aether to disguise their presence, but some knew what to look for. An almost imperceptible aura surrounding those beings hiding in plain sight. A crackling of energy. White noise. A slight fit of confusion when touching an object affected by magic. Moreover, a terrifying and fatal reaction to the basest of wards: silver and salt. Silver affected the altered beasts. It stunted their supernatural ability to heal or created a barrier that kept them in or out. Salt nullified many--but not all--magical attacks. And like the shifters, it provided a barrier against beings saturated by the Outside. They could not cross without grievous pain or even death.
Fox bore no traces of Aether. Several times, he brushed against Jake's silver bracelet to no effect. But the pulse… The pulse didn't happen with normal humans. He was willing to write it off as lust when he first shook Fox's hand in the front office. But every time their hands connected, it was there. Warm, inviting, and somehow invigorating.
Jake wished he was able to get more from Sully before--
Just… Before.
Jake went from window to window, door to door, edge to edge, spreading a thin line of salt and silver along the corners and fringes. With a quick litany of permanence ( Silver, focus. Mercury, fixation. Silver, Mercury.), the lines were forever etched into the different surfaces. He went outside his door and drew a semi-circular line from one edge of the door to the other. Jake then fixed it permanently as well. It blended in with the pale tilework, the silver only visible if one stared at it for a long time. The litany of permanence also proved to be an infallible lock on the door. It sealed the whole door instead of the area closest to the bolt.
Jake headed downstairs. Through the front office window, he saw an even younger man standing behind the front desk. The clerk tapped a pen on the counter and staring at the computer screen. Jake needed to distract him. He stepped into the office.
"Hey there," Jake said.
"Hi, how can I help you?" the clerk replied. His nameplate read "Lucas Walker".
"I'm staying in the executive suite. Would it be possible to get a few towels and a new roll of toilet paper? Oh, and a bottle of body wash and shampoo."
The young man nodded, disappearing through the door behind the counter. Jake trotted outside the door and drew his lines. He also lined the edge of the window that looked out upon the parking lot. When he finished, he came back inside, followed by the clerk a moment later.
"Here you go, Mr. Barton," Lucas said.
"Thank you very much, Lucas. Have a great night!" Jake returned cheerfully. The clerk smiled and waved as Jake darted up the stairs.
After he unsealed his own door, he left his stash of fresh towels and toilet paper on his bed. Jake came back down stairs and repeated the same process. He spread the salt and silver at the door to the electrical room. Jake pondered lining all the doors of the hotel. He decided he'd do it when he had more time and at least ten ounces more of silver and salt.
He returned to Fox's front door, spreading a line around it as he did with his own door. Once the blend was permanently affixed, he tucked the pack into his pocket, straightened out his shirt, and knocked on the door.
*** Fox
Fox smiled as he entered his own room-an apartment compared to the other rooms. It was an expanded take on the executive suite Jake was in. The apartment was the size of two rooms--but Fox's father knocked down the wall separating the rooms. One of the bathrooms was converted into a large walk-in closet. The other was updated in the same way Jake's bathroom was.
A full bed was against a wall, set up like a day bed, with several pillows stacked up against what would be the back. He had a desk that faced out the window. There were a few bookshelves filled with books of all kinds. Cookbooks to wildlife books to camping to college textbooks. Rounding out the decor was a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall over a glass entertainment cabinet with a couple of reclining chairs in front of it.
On the other side of the room, a sliding glass door opened up to a balcony space overlooking the nearby highway. The kitchen area was just a little bigger than Jake's kitchenette, but not by much. A small, round four-person table sat pushed up next to the wall, with three chairs instead of four. It was a bachelor pad, to be sure, but it was welcoming enough for guests without being off-putting in a teen-cave.
Fox kicked off his shoes and put them away in a rack that hung on the wall by the door. He padded barefoot into his bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face. A fresh restart from the slight attack of emotional distress earlier that afternoon. He changed from his button down into a more comfortable baseball tee--one from his early college days. Fox also traded out his shorts for a softer pair of gym shorts. A quick glance at his mirror made him nod at himself-he looked passable.
Fox zipped around his room. He replaced fallen pillows, tidied up his desk, and replaced books in his bookshelves. He then went into his kitchen and deliberated what he could make for two people without much fuss. Soon, the room he called his home looked clean and respectable. He washed his hands, then set out to do some cooking.
Fox pulled some boneless chicken breasts from his fridge and cleaned them off. He rubbed them with salt and pepper, then set them in his oven to bake. Then he set out a pot of water, turning the heat up to boil.
He returned to his kitchen and got to work on the pasta. It didn't take long for Fox to throw together the sauce. The angel hair was on its way to perfection. Fox chopped up stoplight bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, and minced some garlic. Then he reached for a large can of stewed tomatoes when he saw a shadow at his window. The person outside looked like they were running their hands along the sill. He shook it off-there were at least three occupied rooms on the second floor. It could have been a guest fooling around. He opened up the can of tomatoes and tipped the contents out into a deep pan. Then came the onions and garlic--when he heard a knock on the door.
"One minute," Fox called out. He set both the boiling pot of noodles and the saucepan to simmer, wiped his hands, and went to the door. As he expected, Jake stood there, smiling.
"Honey, I'm home."
Fox laughed. "That's not corny at all."
"I didn't know if you were much of a wine drinker," Jake said, producing the grocery bag from earlier. "I got a nice Pinot Noir and a Moscato."
"Thank you," Fox replied. "That's… That was thoughtful." For him, it'd be a little adventure. He'd never really had wine to begin with. Fox took the grocery bag and set it on one of his kit
chen table chairs, turning his back on his guest.
Jake reached out for Fox, grabbing the hem of Fox's shorts. He almost stumbled back after the shorts stretched with more give than he was expecting.
"You changed?" Jake said as he closed the door behind him.
"Yeah. I like to be comfortable when I'm cooking."
"You look like you're heading out to baseball practice." Jake moved in close enough for Fox to smell. Pine, rich soil, and sun and a light sweat.
"Kinda, don't I?" Fox gulped as Jake brushed the size of his face with his nose, his lips. Then he yelped as Jake pinched him in the ass, hard. With a playful push, he shoved Jake away. "Jerk."
"Couldn't resist," Jake said. "Smells good. Making spaghetti?"
Fox smiled. "Chicken pasta. Lemme get the rest of it together and I'll come out and give you the tour. Or you can make yourself at home."
Fox went back to the stove as Jake disappeared around the corner. The sound of the sliding door opening caught Fox's attention. A few moments later, he heard the door slide closed, the lock engaged. He brought all his cooking up to speed. As Fox finished, he turned off all the burners and peeked around the corner. "You okay here?"
Jake sat at Fox's desk, staring at the bookcase to the side. He looked lost in thought. Without a sound, Fox walked up behind him and rested his hands on Jake's shoulders.
Firm. Warm. Like velvet against a sun baked stone.
"Were you thinking about conservationism?" Jake asked.
"I think it was always a possibility," Fox replied.
"Pretty noble possibility," Jake said. He brought his hands up to meet Fox's and pulled them down across his chest. "You are quite the surprise."
"I'm not anything, really. Just a small-town boy."
"Do midnight trains still pass through Moorcroft?"
"Sometimes," Fox said. This time, he was the one to nuzzle Jake softly. The man in his arms groan at the attention.
"How's dinner coming?"
"It's done. Come on." Fox took Jake's hand and pulled him toward the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for Jake and waited for him to sit before he put out plates.