Chapter 9: The Sacrifice of Hiding in a Lie
Pushing Me Away, Linkin Park
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“Do we have to stay here?” the woman asked. Long brown hair was loosely tied back behind her, henna tattoos decorating dusky-skinned hands that held a fluffy Burmese cat, one eye green and the other blue. The woman’s grey eyes looked up at the tall, narrow house. She wasn’t sure if she could make anything of this mess.
“You don’t,” the other woman answered. They looked alike, in the facial structure, but she was a little darker, and had black hair, resting over her shoulder, and violet eyes. “If you want to, you’re free to go your own way. We have business with the Count, that is all.”
The brown-haired woman frowned. “Sarnai, I don’t think you should be getting involved with -“
Sarnai snorted. “It’s the Count that ought be afraid of us,” she said. Sarnai tossed her head back, moving some of the ebony strands out of her face, and then walked across the courtyard, towards the large mansion on the hill.
The brown-haired woman released a sigh, setting the cat down. “Watch the house for me, okay Kit?”
She only got a confused head tilt in response, but she knew Kit had understood. He always did. She turned, then, and scurried after Sarnai.
“You should stay home for this, Lakshmi,” Sarnai said, violet eyes glancing behind her as Lakshmi scurried up.
“I think I won’t, thank you,” Lakshmi answered. Sarnai hadn’t been in her right mind for a few years now. Every time Lakshmi thought she was used to it, something else Sarnai did threw her off. Sometimes, she spoke in a language Lakshmi didn’t understand, but it was too methodical and orderly to be random gibberish. When Lakshmi asked her to repeat it, she even managed to fully repeat exactly what she’d just said in that strange language, but repetition didn’t magically give Lakshmi the ability to understand. Lakshmi didn’t understand what had changed in her sister, either. But there were some things perhaps she never would understand. Even so, it didn’t stop her from trying. Something had changed, drastically, and Lakshmi wanted to know what was different. She wouldn’t figure it out staying at home.
“Suit yourself,” Sarnai said, shrugging. Sarnai’s nonchalant manner did nothing to ease the anxiety coiling in Lakshmi’s stomach as she followed her sister up the walkway. Why was this house so separate from the rest? Maybe it was an important site.
The two women made it to the house, and through the gigantic entry gate. Lakshmi spent a moment looking at it, turning around as they walked under it to look at the iron work and detailing. It was pretty, if you were into that. Lakshmi turned back around, scurrying after Sarnai as the black-haired woman marched up to the door and knocked loudly. Lakshmi cast an uncertain sideways gaze at her sister, but didn’t say anything. Sarnai rarely ever listened to her now, anyway.
The door opened on its own, and, as they walked in, Lakshmi noticed a tall, pale man with sharp features, blue eyes, and white hair standing in the entry. Beside him stood a slightly less pale, black haired woman with dark brown eyes. Lakshmi immediately knew, just from looking at them, they were both vampires, and fairly powerful ones.
“I assume, Sitkamose?” the man asked. The woman shifted nervously beside him, glancing at him for a moment, but she didn’t say anything, at least, not out loud. It was said vampires could learn to be telepathic among each other. Lakshmi had never seen it in person. At least, she hadn’t seen it as far as she knew. The man glanced at the black-haired woman in return but only for a split second.
“Of course,” Sarnai answered.
Lakshmi had to wonder what a Sitkamose was. Sometimes, Sarnai said that in the slurs of that language Lakshmi didn’t understand. Did this man know what language that was and what she said? She was afraid to ask. Perhaps, too afraid to ask ever.
“There’s official business to attend to, it would seem,” Sarnai said, shuffling to the side to trace the stone of one of the statues in the entryway.
“Official business?” the man asked.
“Vlad I wouldn’t trust -” the woman started, but the man, Vlad, cut her off.
“Silence, Lilith,” he said.
Lilith, it would seem, did not take that command very well. Her body stiffened considerably, and Lakshmi thought she saw her nostrils flare in annoyance, before she turned back to face the sisters. The annoyance was clear in her eyes, even as she stayed her tongue.
“There is a spellcaster,” Sarnai said, her tone airy, but Lakshmi recognised the bands of amusement in her tone – she’d heard the exchange with Lilith. “And this spellcaster has an offer for you, if you’re willing to hear it out.”
“I don’t make a habit of interacting with spellcasters, of all things,” Vlad responded cooly. “The spellcasters mind their own business, and we mind ours. That is how it’s been for centuries, give me a good reason why that should change now.”
Sarnai smirked. “The spellcaster needs Forgotten Hollow’s strength,” she said, walking back to the centre of the entryway, just in front of Lakshmi. “Of course, the spellcaster doesn’t expect this for free, no. In return for the Hollow’s strength, she’s offered to make our lives as vampires easier, and offer cures for those who wish for it.”
The idea was clearly preposterous, judging by how bewildered, and perhaps a touch offended, Lilith looked. If Vlad felt anything in response to this declaration, it didn’t show, not in his face, nor in his body. Lakshmi couldn’t quite make out the glittering in his eyes from this distance.
“It sounds terribly pretty,” Sarnai went on, her weight shifting. “But we wouldn’t trust it if we were you. You remember what happened the last time anyone trusted the spellcasters.”
“If that legend is even to be believed,” Vlad said, his tone slightly drawling. “We’ve no evidence the vanir even exist at all, much less that the legends are true. Still, I had no intention of trusting anyone. The Hollow isn’t mine to barter with. We continue to have no reason to get involved in the affairs of spellcasters.”
“Your answer is no?” Sarnai asked.
“What else would it be?” Vlad asked. Forgotten Hollow was barely unified as it was, a hodge-podge mish-mash of strays that Vladislaus had taken in over the centuries, but it wasn’t as if he commanded them. The Hollow was not an army, and unfortunately for this spellcaster, it sounded like that was what they wanted. An army of vampires. Vladislaus almost became giddy at the thought of what one could do with an army of vampires, but, no. That was far too much effort.
Sarnai snorted softly, her weight shifting again. “We think, should you turn this alliance down, you might yet regret it later.”
Vladislaus’ gaze narrowed. “I have regretted a great many things in my life,” he said. “Absolutely none of them have killed me.”
Lakshmi glanced at Sarnai. Sarnai simply looked amused, the light in those violet eyes dancing with anticipation. “This is our sister,” she said, turning to look at Lakshmi for a moment. “She will be living here with us.”
“Good to know,” Vlad said.
“Welcome to the Hollow,” Lilith murmured.
Lakshmi started to answer, but Sarnai cut her off. “We’ll go. We only came to tell you of the spellcaster’s offer. It was good to see you again.” Sarnai turned on her heel, walking back towards the door.
Lakshmi scurried after her, but then Sarnai stopped abruptly.
“Vladislaus,” Sarnai said, not turning around. “Remember that there is a first time for everything.”
Lakshmi glanced behind them for but a split second, before following Sarnai out the door.
“What the fuck was that?” Lilith asked, as soon as the sisters were out of range.
Vladislaus rolled his eyes. “There is a storm coming, remember?” Vlad answered. “This is that storm. Do you remember anything I say to you, child?”
“Yes,” Lilith answered. “… mostly.”
Vlad snorted. “At least you’re honest,” he said, turning and heading into the manor.
Lilith could see it, though, as he moved. Despite brushing off the woman’s words, he was clearly affected by them, and thinking about them.
“You’re not seriously considering it, are you?” she asked.
“The spellcasters are at war with one another, Lilith,” Vlad answered. “Unfortunately, as often we are, it is entirely possible the vampires will be caught in the crossfire. Now, you and I know that there are vampires here that cannot handle a conflict of that sort of magnitude. Your brother, for instance, would likely be lost. No one in magic realm seems aware of this particular threat, however, so we have time, but there are dangerous things at play here.”
“I have friends in magic realm,” Lilith said. “I could warn them-“
“Don’t,” Vlad interrupted. “The spellcasters and their problems aren’t our problems, there is a nice, thick line between the two, don’t go mixing them up now.”
“They’re my friends,” Lilith replied, her tone offended.
“Are they?” Vlad asked. “Of course it’s all well and good to think such things, but I wonder… if they feel the same on the matter. If, when push comes to shove, they won’t turn on you.”
“Of course not,” Lilith answered. “Not everyone is you!”
Vladislaus’ eyes narrowed again. “I understand that you have a strong attachment to these spellcasters of yours, but the fact of the matter is this has potential to pit our two races against one another, and I highly doubt anything you can do will stop it, particularly if they decide to use that All of theirs to its greatest potential. As it happens, as well, they have no idea what is going on, and neither do we know that much either. It is best to let this one lie. Alerting them too early, when we don’t have all the information yet anyway, would only end in whoever this is withdrawing to the shadows. No, Lilith. It is best to feign ignorance here, that your enemy runs his mouth far too much.”
The coffee pot spat and gurgled, unleashing the last bit of its bean-juice. Was that a juice? Probably, quite technically, it wasn’t a juice at all, but bean juice sounded nice in Morgyn’s head, so the blond was going to keep it. The sage reached over, pouring a cup, and then turned around. And yelped, nearly dropping the cup.
Caleb, sitting at one of the stools at the bar, instinctively reached over the counter to steady Morgyn, laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“How did you do that?” Morgyn asked. “I’m usually much better at picking up on vampire signatures right behind me.”
“Well, you do kind of live with Drake, you know?” Caleb said.
Morgyn had to admit he had a point with that. The blond shrugged and then took a drink of coffee and set the cup down on the counter. Today was a makeup day, but what Morgyn was wearing wasn’t notably feminine. “I suppose,” Morgyn answered. “Oh, I didn’t get a chance last we spoke, how have you been?”
Caleb smiled slightly. “I’m doing better now,” he said.
“You weren’t doing so well before?” Morgyn asked.
That wasn’t what Caleb meant. He laughed slightly, releasing a huff of air, smiling, and shook his head. He meant that things were a bit better now that Morgyn was back, but maybe he shouldn’t say that. “Stuff’s a bit weird back home,” he said instead. “Lilith’s probably involved in it, because she can’t keep her snoot to herself sometimes. I worry about her a lot.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Morgyn said. Morgyn knew it all too damned well, but they’d already spent far too long on Morgyn’s problems of late. “Congratulations on finally being free from the Alley, though. Seems like everyone wants your help out there.”
“Of course,” Caleb said, snorting. “Everyone knows me, and I don’t have to sleep.”
Morgyn snorted. “I have to wonder why no one bothers Drake about it.”
“Probably because he’s a bit better at telling people to fuck off than I am,” Caleb said.
“You should work on that,” Morgyn said, taking another drink of coffee.
Caleb didn’t think he would. It also gave him a good excuse to be here, and of course… Morgyn was here. “Yeah, so I should,” he said. “How’s everything with Ezio? He’s doing okay?”
Morgyn released a sigh, setting the coffee cup down. “He’s been stable at least,” Morgyn answered. Whatever was wrong with his heart, it came and went. Sometimes he’d go long stretches of time being okay, and then one day it’d all come crashing down again, right around when Morgyn and Drake stopped worrying about it so much and started to forget that there was anything wrong with him at all. It was almost infuriating how he was okay and then he wasn’t, just like that, no rhyme or reason. Morgyn was sure there was some reason, somewhere, but hadn’t found it.
“And with Jackson?” Caleb asked.
“He’s still here,” Morgyn answered. “Except that he’s never here at all. Ezio’s still okay with this. I told him to do one of his nerdy rambles at Drake and then Jackson and watch the difference between them, but I don’t know if he ever did or not. He’s convinced there’s nothing wrong with his relationship with Jackson, but it feels like everything is. I just, I can’t find it.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Caleb said quietly. “I don’t know anyone smarter than you. Except maybe Ezio, but he’s too personally invested in this to see its flaws, I should think.”
That sounded about right. Morgyn released a sigh, tapping on the counter. Then, a thought crossed the blond’s mind. “You’re always in Caster’s Alley,” Morgyn said. “That’s where Jackson supposedly hangs out…”
Caleb distinctly did not like the sound of where this was going. “I… s-um. Yes?”
“So?” Morgyn asked. “You’ve gotta know something useful to the cause.”
“Cause? What cause? Never mind.” Maybe that wasn’t the important part. “Yes, I know some things, I’ve heard some shit, I’ve seen stuff, but I’m not telling you anything.”
“What?” Morgyn answered. “Why?”
Caleb shifted in his seat, releasing a sigh. “Morgyn, look,” he said. “I know your heart’s in the right place. I know you mean well. But there is a line here, and I think you’ve crossed it.”
Morgyn’s green eyes stared into Caleb’s grey ones, for a long moment. And then the blond released a sigh, arms crossing. “You think I should butt out and mind my own business, huh?”
“I wasn’t going to use those words, exactly, but yes,” Caleb answered.
“I don’t want to see him get hurt again,” Morgyn said.
“I know that,” Caleb replied. “But Morgyn, at this rate you’re not going to see it merely because he shoved you out of his life. From his point of view, right now, you’re just being a busy-body that hates all of his boyfriends for no reason. You and I know you have a reason, but he needs to know that, too, and you can’t make him see it if he doesn’t want to. And you, Morgyn, are the one person that shouldn’t be hurting him.”
Morgyn looked like the blond was just about ready to unleash on him and argue, but then, all the steam released at once, and Morgyn deflated.
Caleb raised his hands. “Hey, I know that’s how you deal with things, you communicate in disruption, I get it,” he said. “But Ezio doesn’t.” Morgyn was trying to make a point, he understood that, and probably some part of Ezio understood that, too. Caleb had a hard time imagining he didn’t after this long living with Morgyn. But in situations like this one, Morgyn had to come down to Ezio’s level, not expect Ezio to rise to the blond’s. Ezio didn’t understand disruption and chaos the same way. And Caleb thought that this being a disruption like Morgyn usually created made it easier for Ezio to ignore it. Of course Morgyn was being disruptive. Morgyn always was, it didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Morgyn’s head tilted to one side. Caleb was right, and Morgyn knew it. That was the worst part, wasn’t it? Knowing that the choices the blond was making were wrong for this situation, and yet not being able to stop making them. Everything in Morgyn said to fight it. It wasn’t always like that. Once, it was Morgyn that was the quiet one, that didn’t make any waves, and Ezio that fought everything that breathed wrong. Morgyn wondered when that changed. And then Morgyn figured it didn’t matter. Ezio lost his freedom to give Morgyn the same. Maybe that was why, whenever there were times when Morgyn knew Ezio wouldn’t fight, and needed to, Morgyn rose to the occasion instead.
“I don’t know how to let go of it,” Morgyn said.
Caleb took a breath in. “Focus on other things,” he said. “Don’t walk away entirely. Ezio’s going to need you, when he finally understands. But give him the space to figure it out on his own. You can say that the tree is there all you want. Until he turns around and looks at it, it’s all just words.”
Mornings were always busy, because everyone seemed to think Morgyn was a morning person (admittedly, the blond kind of was), and tended to ask all of their questions first thing in the morning. Not that it was terribly easy to tell when it was morning around here, anyway. By afternoon, things started to level out, and Morgyn came down for a cup of coffee, as a nice afternoon pick-me-up.
Ezio was down, it’d seem, sitting at one of the tables and reading something, a cup of tea and half of a sandwich sitting on the wood beside him.
“What’re you reading?” Morgyn asked, bustling around the kitchen making coffee.
“The Restaurant at the End of the World,” Ezio answered idly.
Morgyn raised an eyebrow, turning towards him. “Haven’t you read that six times?”
“Eight,” Ezio corrected, “but I keep finding stuff I missed in it.”
“We should go to the bookstore and get you more books,” Morgyn said, filling the water container for the coffee pot.
“That’s okay,” Ezio said. “I’ve got plenty of books, I just like reading this one.” The truth was, Ezio had a lot more books than what were on his shelves in his room. Jackson didn’t like them taking up so much space, and the fifth time he’d tripped over a stack of books about Nordic mythology, he’d thrown quite the hissy fit and insisted they be moved somewhere else, or, as he said, he’d deal with it himself and they were ending up in a fireplace. Ezio had moved them into the basement storage the next day, with Drake’s help, but digging them back up just to read them was more trouble than it was worth.
“If you say so,” Morgyn said. “You can borrow some of mine if you want. Lord knows I have way too many of them, some of them I think I haven’t even read yet, I just got them on the off chance I’d have some time to read them.”
Ezio made a face, laying his head on the back of the chair to look at Morgyn, slightly upside down. “Maybe you should read them,” Ezio said. “They’re your books, not mine. I have my own.”
“Yeah, where did the rest of your books go, anyway?”
If he told the truth, Morgyn would undoubtedly go off on another tangent about Jackson, and Ezio wasn’t in the mood for another one of those. Ezio shrugged. “I moved them to storage,” he said.
“Oh.” Morgyn wondered why, but the blond didn’t ask. What was that thing Caleb said, about stepping back and giving Ezio the space to… figure out Jackson was up to no good, Morgyn thought it was, but maybe it’d be nice if Ezio started talking to the blond again. It was all shallow, now. Morgyn understood why, but missed the days when they talked like there was nothing in their way. That time might be over. Morgyn wanted it back.
“How’s the sage thing going?” Ezio asked.
Morgyn snorted softly. “Fine enough,” the blond answered. “Elise is figuring out Inferniate finally. Thank you, for helping with her.”
“Nah,” Ezio said. “You’re not always good with words, Morgyn, but you’ve got a passion that I lack. You just have to believe you can do it too. You need to see yourself the way I see you.”
Morgyn snorted again. “I don’t think I ever will. I don’t know what you see in me.” The same thing Morgyn saw in Ezio, maybe? It couldn’t be, because Ezio and Morgyn were so different, they were almost like night and day. What was interesting was, much like the sun and the moon did, Ezio and Morgyn traded places off and on. Sometimes, Morgyn was the strong one. Other times, Ezio was. It’d been like that, a seemingly endless cycle, for two hundred years now, and yet if anything changed, Morgyn would feel very lost.
When Ezio was gone, who else would be the sun, when Morgyn needed to be the moon?
“I know,” Ezio said, resting his arm between the pages of the book, that he didn’t lose his place. “I don’t know what you see in me, either.”
Morgyn smiled. “Maybe we’re not supposed to understand.”
“Yeah, maybe not.” It wasn’t like Ezio was privy to the universe’s grand design, whatever that was. Most of the time, he didn’t want to be, either. “I think you’re doing better, though. No one’s gotten set on fire, that’s a decent start.”
Morgyn snorted. “Ha ha, aren’t you funny.” He had a point, Morgyn supposed. The blond did have a habit of setting people that were annoying on fire. It never caused permanent damage, anyway. “Hey,” Morgyn said. “I love you. You know that, right?”
Ezio glanced down at his lap. “I know. I love you, too.”
“I just wanted to make sure you know,” Morgyn said. The coffee pot began gurgling, and Morgyn turned around to pour a cup. “Have fun reading your book,” Morgyn said, shuffling around towards the staircase. As Morgyn headed out into the centre courtyard, Jackson passed by the doorway, and Morgyn stopped.
Ezio looked up at the blond. “What’s wrong?” he asked. That was a very abrupt stop, and those were unlike Morgyn. Typically, if the blond stopped suddenly like that, it meant something had crossed the blond’s mind.
“When is Jackson leaving?” Morgyn asked.
Ezio wasn’t expecting that question, but in hindsight, he didn’t know why. “A few days,” Ezio answered.
Morgyn’s eyebrows furrowed together, and the blond turned to look at him. “In a few days?” Morgyn repeated. “But that’s so soon.”
Ezio’s features scrunched up in confusion. “I figured you’d be happy he’s going away so quick.”
Internally, yes, Morgyn was very glad Jackson wasn’t going to be around much longer, but also thought that was utter bullshit. “He should stay a little longer,” Morgyn said. “He’s never here for longer than maybe five days, I think. Doesn’t he want to spend time with you? This looks really bad, I hope you know. … Ezio, haven’t you ever wondered why-“
“Stop it,” Ezio interrupted. “I don’t want to hear this again.”
Morgyn went quiet, watching him. “Ezio, I just want you to be happy.”
Ezio snorted. “I’d be a lot happier if you stopped trying to ruin what little bit of happiness I do have.”
Morgyn fell silent again. The blond could understand why it felt like that, but that wasn’t what Morgyn was doing. Of course, Morgyn remembered what Caleb had said. And he was right then, and he was right now. “Ezio, I-“
“Elise isn’t going to figure Inferniate out on her own,” Ezio interrupted.
There was another pause of silence. “I guess she won’t,” Morgyn said quietly, and then turned back to the courtyard, and moved for the stairs. Ezio closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in. Would it always end this way?
“We’ll be taking a trip around the main island first,” Jackson said, presently lying in Ezio’s lap. “The trip out to Mua Pel’am has to be careful, the island’s already in a bad way thanks to tourism, and if I had to guess, maybe a little something to do with the monsoons washing up ocean debris.”
For the most part, Ezio wasn’t listening. He got a long lecture about Sulani’s ecosystem and how Mua Pel’am conservation was important, and the volcano was whatever the volcano was, and so on, every time Jackson went to Sulani. It was interesting the first few times, but Jackson never did seem to know anything new about it, simply repeating the things he’d already said ad infinitum, and rehashing things they’d already gone over wasn’t enough to keep Ezio’s attention. Come to think of it, he wondered how many times Jackson had seen specifically Mua Pel’am. In hindsight, Ezio couldn’t remember how many times Jackson had gone to Sulani to help study the volcano or the water conditions, but it felt like he’d heard that song several times already.
He didn’t ask.
Ezio was trying to be nice about Morgyn’s strange concern about his love life. Obviously, there was something Morgyn was seeing that was concerning the blond, and Ezio tried not to brush those things Morgyn saw off like they were nothing. When they were kids, Morgyn’s intuition had rarely ever been wrong. Admittedly, Ezio’s hadn’t been wrong very often, either, but there wasn’t anything setting his off here. Unless it was that feeling of dread that just got stronger as the days went on, but Ezio thought that feeling of dread was connected to something else. What, he couldn’t say.
Something big was coming, he was sure, and Ezio was afraid to know what it was. So afraid that his mind would focus on absolutely anything but that. Talking about this kind of thing seemed like a moot point. Morgyn couldn’t tell him what it was he was feeling, nor could Drake, any more than Ezio could tell himself. Maybe he was just having a hard time controlling his anxiety.
“Ezio,” Jackson said, shaking him slightly.
Right, Jackson was talking. “Yes? Sorry.”
“Are you okay?” Jackson asked. “I lost you there for a second, what’s wrong?”
What wasn’t wrong? “Nothing,” Ezio said. “I just thought of something and kind of spaced out, I’m sorry.”
“Your heart’s-“
“It’s fine, not that,” Ezio said.
“Are you sure about that?” Jackson asked. “I mean the last time you had an episode, you spaced out for several minutes. It’s kind of scary, baby.”
Some part of Ezio melted. That was sweet, in its way. Jackson did care. Maybe it was just that he didn’t necessarily know how to express it right. It wasn’t fair for Ezio to use him having a life that Ezio wasn’t part of against him. That might be it. Ezio was kind of jealous, that Jackson had a life that he wasn’t in. That made a lot of sense. Oooh, and that had to be what Morgyn and Drake were picking up on. Ezio’s upset about Jackson having things that he wasn’t involved in.
See? Everything was fine. Ezio shook his head lightly, scooting over and hugging Jackson. “I don’t mean to scare you,” he said, the words muffled slightly by Jackson’s shirt.
“It’s okay,” Jackson said, wrapping his arms around Ezio’s form. Sometimes, Ezio managed to look smaller than Jackson, but he was a bit stockier in build, actually. Jackson simply had notably broader shoulders, that was all, and the effect made Ezio look smaller. “What were you thinking about?”
Ezio glanced up at him, and then shrugged a shoulder. “Just some stuff,” he said.
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “You’re not still upset about me leaving are you?” he asked.
“No,” Ezio said. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Don’t worry about it, Jackson,” Ezio said. “It doesn’t matter. I should probably pay attention to you anyway right? You’re not staying long.” It was easy to get comfortable with Jackson here, but that wasn’t how anything worked. He’d go away again, like always he did. Jackson was a bit like the wind. Whenever Ezio thought he’d caught him, he slipped through his fingers again. Ezio hated it, of course, but he didn’t have a right to try stopping Jackson from living the life he had that Ezio wasn’t in, and, probably, couldn’t be in anyway.
But he wasn’t getting any better. Jackson said it a lot, that he should hurry up and get better, so that he could go to Sulani with him. But that wasn’t going to happen, and Ezio knew it, somewhere in him. Maybe Morgyn and Drake knew it too, maybe Jackson knew, but nobody wanted to say it. They didn’t have forever.
“I guess,” Jackson said. “It does matter to me, though. Come on, you can talk to me, you know? I want that for us.” Jackson reached down, taking Ezio’s hands in his, gently kissing the knuckles.
And Ezio melted a little more. This was the Jackson he’d thought he could fall in love with, if he tried. He smiled a little. “Sometimes,” he said, “it feels like you’re hiding something from me.” It was quiet, that if Jackson wanted, he could pretend he hadn’t heard it.
Instead, Jackson’s eyes softened, and he leaned over and kissed Ezio’s hair. “What would I be hiding from you, babe?” he asked.
“That’s my question, too,” Ezio said.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Jackson said. “You and me, we’re gonna be forever, okay? And someday work will slow down, and I’ll be able to stay, and we can do all the little dinner dates you want, and watch all the movies, and I’ll get you a room just for your books, alright, and you can stack those mother fuckers to the ceiling if it makes you happy.”
That sounded nice. Ezio wanted a library of his own, full of all the books he’d ever read, or meant to read, arranged neatly on floor to ceiling shelves. Could one imagine how large the curtains would have to be, for the windows, because he wanted them so tall. The ceiling would be way up there, so that the rows and rows of books would seem to go on forever. There’d be no room for anything else, save for a fireplace, some cosy chairs, and the windows that went to the sky. Even in his own head, it was beautiful, and his heart almost hurt with longing at imagining it.
“You promise?” Ezio asked.
Jackson smiled. “Of course,” he answered, then leaned over and kissed Ezio’s cheek. And then his jaw. And then down his neck… Ezio could feel Jackson’s fingers slip under his shirt, and like it knew it was supposed to, he could kind of feel his body reacting, but it was distant. Like it wasn’t his body that was reacting, not really. He’d never spent the time to directly assess how this sort of thing really made him feel, because he never had the time to. Jackson wasn’t the first one to be so touchy; it seemed like a guy thing, or at least guys that Ezio dates thing, because they all did it at some point. They were never malicious about it, but how quickly things went from zero to sauna made it difficult for him to sort through what he wanted.
He should do that some other time, probably, but he’d much rather not think about it.
Somewhere in between making those little noises that drove Jackson crazy, and Jackson trying to extricate him from his clothes, Ezio realised that Jackson had never directly said he promised.
Ezio squirmed slightly under Jackson’s weight. After a moment, he gently pushed Jackson back up, off of him. “I think I’m gonna go downstairs,” he said. “To read or something. Good night.” Ezio slipped out from under him, reaching up to fix his hair, and then moved for the door.
Jackson snorted softly, and then growled under his breath, turning around and grabbing Ezio’s wrist. Jackson pulled him back over to the bed. Ezio squeaked and fell against him to prevent hitting the floor. “Who said you could walk away from me?” Jackson asked, his tone low.
Fear suddenly shot through Ezio’s body, but despite his flight instinct trying to kick in, making him breathe quicker, he managed not to do anything more than meet Jackson’s similarly coloured gaze. And then the pain registered. “Jackson,” he said almost breathlessly, “you’re hurting me.”
Jackson blinked, looking at the hand still holding Ezio’s wrist. His hand was shaking with the force he was holding onto Ezio’s wrist with, and as Jackson registered this, he immediately let go. Ezio backed away, holding his wrist against his chest, eyeing Jackson warily.
“Sorry,” Jackson said softly. “I’m just tired. I’ll head to bed, you have fun reading.”
“Yeah,” Ezio breathed. “I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before Jackson could respond, Ezio turned on his heel and went out the door, quickly heading to the staircase. The door shut behind him, and Jackson thought, he should go make sure Ezio was okay, at least, and stood up to do that. As he reached the door, though, he suddenly got the feeling he shouldn’t, and stopped, watching the light from the windows across the hall.
He got the strange feeling he was being watched, grey eyes glancing either direction outside the door. As his gaze fell on the black and glass door not far away, however, he caught sight of Drake, watching him through the glass. The expression on his face was hard to read, but as Jackson gazed back at him, Drake’s head bowed slightly. There was unspoken threat in the vibrant blue of his eyes.
Jackson shrugged just slightly at him, more to himself, and headed back to bed. It could wait until the morning.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem anyone was downstairs right now. L liked to stay up until ungodly hours of the night, but Morgyn was already asleep, it seemed, and Ezio wasn’t sure off-hand where Drake was. Maybe he was upstairs working on a novel or something. Ezio just hoped he hadn’t heard that. It wasn’t like Drake would say anything. Drake was many things, but confrontational generally wasn’t one of them. That was Morgyn’s gig. Drake simply calmly stated his concern, and left it at that. As he put it, there was no sense in pushing the matter, because force tended to inspire resistance.
He was right, of course. It was hard not to fight back, when Morgyn got into one of those Morgyn-moods. Ezio did love the blond, endlessly, but there were times when even Ezio couldn’t deal with Morgyn’s various tendencies. Dealing with it got tiring after a point, but that was the kind of person that Morgyn was, and Ezio would never dream of asking Morgyn to change for him. Morgyn wasn’t always like that. It was nice to see Morgyn had outgrown the shell the blond had lived in when they were kids, was starting to figure out who the hell Morgyn was. And now that Aine was gone, even more of that self-discovery and personal growth thing could happen.
He was glad for it. He’d never in a thousand years ask it to stop on account of him.
Ezio slipped into the library, holding his arm out into the light given off by the crystal lamp. It was a soft, but warm white, easily highlighting the marks Jackson had left on his wrist. It looked like it might bruise later. Ezio frowned a little. Well, he’d tell anyone that asked he’d slammed his wrist into the bedframe while he was sleeping. He’d done it a few times before, no one should ask too many questions. Fortunately, Ezio didn’t wear clothing that was particularly revealing in the first place; he might be able to just hide it outright. If it hurt tomorrow, though, someone might notice that much.
Damn it.
Ezio paced around for a moment. The nervous energy was building as it was, and he couldn’t really afford to have a meltdown right this moment. Drake could smell that kind of thing, as he’d figured out some time after turning Drake into a vampire in the first place. It was a confusing situation, but Drake was, as it happened, far more in tune with Ezio than anyone else, and could probably already smell his anxiety, if the blond was anywhere nearby. Ezio hoped he wasn’t. He wasn’t into answering questions, because if someone asked him what was wrong right now, he had a feeling he’d have an utter meltdown, and that wouldn’t be good for convincing someone there wasn’t anything wrong.
It took a few minutes of pacing, but eventually, his heart rate slowed down, and his breathing evened out. Ezio turned and moved around one of the tables, settling down in one of the two chairs by the fireplace. He loved the crackling of fire. The sound of it was calming to him in a weird way, and he found he could often zone out to the sound of it and crickets, if he tried. He smiled a little bit, listening to the sound. Then, he felt like someone, or something, was watching him. He got used to that from Drake doing it a lot. Every time he turned around, it seemed like, Drake was staring at him.
He looked up, though, and nothing was there in the room but him. He leaned over a little, in his seat, glancing up at the bridge, but he didn’t see anyone up there, either. And then he heard the whispering.
Why now?
Ever since he was a child, he could hear, and see, spirits of those that had passed on. Morgyn never developed the ability, but Ezio had it innately from a very young age. He’d seen some things that would probably make others throw up or pass out. His mind wasn’t always his own. He didn’t just see and hear them, he could feel them in ways that even those that learnt to be mediums couldn’t. He felt their fear, their despair, their pain. Sometimes, it was so intense, it was hard for him to figure out where he ended and they began, because it all felt the same to him. They shared their emotions, and their memories.
The legends in magic realm said that the necromancers were once a large sect, given the gift of passing easily between the dawnlands, or the lands of the living, and the dusklands, the lands of the dead. Sometimes they brought a piece of one into another, messing up the balance of the worlds, and the stories tell of how the gods sent them a curse, intended to wipe them out and restore balance. This curse was their stronger connection with spirits. It drove most of them mad, over time. And now, Ezio was the only living necromancer left, at least, as far as they knew. There could be others, somewhere, suppressing their abilities, hoping beyond all hope that they were just like everyone else. Just like Ezio did, once.
He stood up, following the sound of whispering. In magic realm, there were spirits too, but they were notably calmer. They weren’t trapped here, or frantic, or upset they were dead in the first place. No, they’d stayed here for a reason, and had come to terms with that reason. They didn’t need help. They gave help, much of the time. And if, when one was alone, they listened to the silence, at times, the silence spoke.
The whispering abruptly stopped, so Ezio stopped walking. As he stood there, waiting to see why the whispering wanted him right there, a thunk sounded from above, and something slid off one of the bookshelves, and hit the floor with a loud thunk. Ezio couldn’t help jumping slightly, but then he bent down to look at what had fallen. His mystery book, it would seem. He smiled slightly. “Now you’re stalking me, huh?” he asked it. He sat down on the floor, gathering his legs under him and reaching over to pull the book into his lap. His wrist twinged in pain at the motion, but he only winced slightly. He never did really go through the book. Idly, he opened it, flipping through the pages and looking at them more seriously. There were dozens of images and designs, usually circular patterns and spirals, on the pages. He couldn’t tell what language the writing was meant to be in, but some of the images looked like ink copies of wood carvings, and some of the glyphs and designs were almost familiar. He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but it was perhaps a gateway into getting this thing translated and making sense of what it wanted from him sometime this century.
Ezio looked up at the bookshelves he was sitting at the base of. As it happened, these were the shelves with the language books on them, as he recalled. There were dozens of books about different magical languages, the ones the gnomes used, the varying fae languages, the merfolks’ tongue, which only really made sense underwater anyway if he remembered right, there were bits about every non-magical language known to mankind, fabled and forgotten languages the spellcasters and ancient druids supposedly used once upon a long time ago, mystical systems from East Asia and Polynesia.
If any set of bookshelves in this place could help him make sense of this book, it’d be these here. Ezio’s jaw set, and he scooted across the floor, pulling several language books down.
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