Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bloody Skies	By : TokiMirage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 44832 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. Everything else is mine. I do not make any money writing this fic.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Bloody Skies
oOo
Chapter Twenty:
oOo
Cyrus groaned and clenched at his stomach with his arms. It felt like his bones were on fire, his flesh was melting, and someone had poured a can of battery acid into his stomach.
“Well. This is unfortunate,” Dorcas murmured, hand tightly grasping Cyrus’s chin and bringing on a wave of nausea. “It looks like your body is rejecting the change. You’ll probably be dead in a few hours…” He trailed off, releasing the human’s chin and running a hand down his cheek. “It’s too bad. I would have enjoyed fucking you.”
Feeling the nausea building, Cyrus let out a low moan of pain as he rolled onto his side and emptied his stomach onto the stone floor. After the first wave stopped, he breathed slowly to try to slow the spinning pirouettes of his brain. He shouldn’t have moved so quickly. Dry heaving, he lay his face down on the cold floor, avoiding his mess, and tried to block out the worst of the pain by focusing on the prickles running all over his skin.
“Disgusting,” Dorcas murmured, having dodged the projectile vomit.
Cyrus was completely unprepared for the foot that kicked him in the stomach. He didn’t even notice that it sent him sliding across the floor and back into his cell as he let out a scream of pain and curled into a ball. He felt like his insides were ripping themselves apart, or his stomach had burst and acid was dissolving his organs.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Tara yelled angrily. “Leave him the fuck alone you cock-sucking, maggots for breath, goat-sodomizing PRICK!”
Dorcas, who had been kicking Cyrus’s door shut, disappeared in a blur and grabbed her neck through the bars. “What… did you call me?”
She snarled. “A muggle vampire that drinks muggle blood and fucks goats.” She spat in his face.
Dorcas tightened his grip. “You dare insult me when I could kill you with a flex of my hand?”
She snorted. “And what? You gonna kill another one of us? If you keep pickin’ off your hostages, you’re gonna have nothin’ left to bargain with,” she bluffed, her expression belying her anxiety.
The muggle vampire stood there for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I can do worse than just kill you, brat.” He drew his other hand up to her face and started cutting into her cheek with one of his sharp nails. “I will enjoy torturing the spirit from you,” he murmured, bringing the blood on his finger up to his mouth and licking it. He hummed appreciatively. “Nice. Very nice flavor. Steady diet of magical humans, quite powerful… Now, why don’t you talk before I rip that pretty face from your bones?”
“Fuck you.”
He grinned. “Oh, by the time I’m done with you… Perhaps I’ll save you for later tonight. Let you stew on what I’m going to do with you. After all, I have another vampire with more pressing information to deal with. You’re just part of the rescue team.”
She spat on him and he threw her away, wiping the mess from his cheek. He narrowed his eyes but left to go to Snape’s cell, not seeing the grin that spread across Tara’s face as he left her sight. She brought a hand up to her cheek, scraped the blood off, and used it to start drawing designs on her bars, occasionally glancing into the cell across from hers and watching Cyrus tremble, thrash, and puke. Her eyes narrowed.
“So… Snake. Perhaps now you’ll be a little more willing to share information?” Dorcas said smugly, arms crossed over his chest.
A man that looked very much like Lucius Malfoy with brown hair sat against the far wall of the cell, fangs bared angrily. If all their belongings hadn’t been confiscated upon their capture, he would have poisoned the bastard already. Five times.
“Taking the silent route, hm? Well, we’ll have to do something about that.”
oOo
Cyrus could hear screaming. It cut in and out through his fog of agony. If he were conscious enough to even compare the pain to something he’d felt before, it would be worse than the Cruciatus. It felt as though someone had poured iron into his bones, acid into his insides, and was tearing apart his body cell by cell. He could feel the pain in his body increase with every spasm and tremor, but he couldn't stop it.
He couldn’t focus enough to even attempt to use his healing magic, and every time he even tried to grasp it, it slipped out of his control and… disappeared. He didn’t know where it was going, and it scared him. He could feel his body failing, falling apart, and his magic was going with it.
He was going to die.
With a scream of agony as fire burned his nerve endings and sent his body aflame, he fell into blessed unconsciousness.
oOo
Tara’s head jolted up from her work when Cyrus let out one loud, brutal scream before it cut off and he fell still. He was going to die in a few hours if she didn’t get them all the fuck out of there ASAP. Scowling, she kept an ear on the torture happening in the cell down the hall, wanting warning if Dorcas decided to come back for a little more one on one. Hopefully she would have finished her blood magic array by then. She hoped Snape survived until then. Otherwise they all would have come here for no fucking reason at all.
Finally, just as she was finishing up the last of the array on the floor in front of her bars, the screaming stopped and all fell silent. She heard a click as the cell down the hall locked. Moving quickly and silently, she went to the back of her cell and leaned against the wall.
Dorcas appeared a moment later, blood drenching his normally impeccable suit. For a moment Tara was sure he had killed Snape, but Dorcas wouldn’t have looked so irritated if he had.
“I’ll be back for you tonight, little Miss Red. And I assure you, your continued existence is far less important to me than Snake’s.” With a hiss, he disappeared into the shadows.
Tara scowled, looking down at the cuffs holding her hands together. She hated it when assholes were smart enough to use cuffs specifically for magical vampires. She’d only had the joy of wearing them once before, and that had been sex related. Amelia had been… quite ferocious in bed.
Letting out a breath, she clenched her teeth and turned her attention back to the matter at hand. Cutting her palm with a nail, as the wound on her cheek had long since healed, she scribbled down the last symbols onto the bars of the cage and jumped back just as they started melting into nothing. She grinned when no alarm sounded. Did they honestly think magical cuffs would keep them completely restrained? Well, to give them some credit, they were strong enough to survive her kicking them with her full strength. That was something. But they didn’t know an iota about blood magic, so that was the scale tipping in her favor.
Stupid fucking muggle vampires. There were reasons they were all eradicated once a century.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she exited the cell and looked around. No guards. What, was Dorcas retarded? Unless he was that sure of his superiority. Most magical beings were completely useless without their magic and physically restrained.
Resisting the urge to run to Cyrus and see if her human was okay, she went to the most strategically sound choice and freed Xanthir. It took some quick scribbling on her part, but she had a hole in his bars melting in a minute. Next she went on to Snape, who wasn’t looking so good.
“Can you walk?” she asked so softly human ears wouldn’t be able to hear.
The brown-haired Lucius Malfoy, Snape in disguise, nodded and stood from where he’d been bandaging his wounds with scraps of his black robes.
Moving quickly, Tara melted his bars too. He pulled himself into the hallway with some trouble, but didn’t fall down. “How do we escape?” he asked softly.
Tara’s mouth turned down, grim. “I have an emergency portkey. They took Xanthir’s and Cyrus’s from what I could see, but they didn’t think to check my belly button piercing. They took my more obvious pendant portkey instead.” She grinned at the look on Snape’s face, but it soon fell flat. “Come on. I think he’s fucked up Cyrus pretty good. I… don’t know if he’ll make it.”
Snape looked grim. “If there is anything I have learned about that child, is that he always manages the impossible. I’m sure with a little help from a healer, he may yet survive the change.”
Tara shrugged and started walking down to Cyrus’s cell, where Xanthir was already standing, looking more serious than she’d seen him since that time they’d assassinated Professor Farling’s fire-breathing pet snake. It had eaten a student, put twenty in the hospital since its purchase, and Kyranes still hadn’t made the man get rid of it, so the students had taken it into their own hands. The possibility of getting their heads chopped off had been quite high, but worth the risk in the end. Even if Farling had almost failed them all out of sheer spite. He hadn’t been able to pin it on anyone, but the entire school knew it was a student who did the deed.
Tara started drawing the blood symbols on Cyrus’s bars as Xanthir and Snape quietly spoke about the four’s future escape. Tara was just about finished when she sensed someone behind her and jumped to the side. A foot planted itself into where’d she’d been drawing blood magic, bending the bars and smudging the blood. Eyes widening, Tara threw herself back, taking Xanthir with her as she fell.
The bars exploded, sending shrapnel flying over their heads. Moving in for the kill, Tara went after the vampire who’d almost killed her (more by fucking up her blood magic than almost kicking her) and slammed him into the floor. Using every bit of strength in her body, she kept him restrained until Xanthir snapped out of it and helped her out.
Once she was sure he wasn’t going anywhere, she punched him straight in the face. “Well hello there little muggle vampire. Who the fuck are you?” she growled, grabbing his throat and choking him momentarily.
The man glared, looking positively furious. “How did you get out?”
Tara was about to answer when the man let out a scream that Xanthir quickly muffled without needing to be asked to. Frowning, Tara turned to Snape, who had snapped the man’s wrist and held a device in his hand. Raising an eyebrow, she turned back to her captive. “Well now, trying to call in reinforcements? Bad idea.” She stabbed two of her fingers up in the soft tissue at the bottom of his jaw and hooked them, pulling the man closer to her face with the hook she had on his jawbone. “You fucked with us, now you’re as good as dead. Tell me where you put our shit and I’ll make it a quick death.”
Snape let out an irritated puff of air. “He will not tell. Hold his head stationary, I will find what we need.” Leaning forward, he met the muggle vampire’s eyes. After a moment, he hummed and sat up again with a wince. “He is Rousseau, the owner of the mansion and the childe of Dorcas. He is only a few centuries old. Young by muggle vampire standards. The device that releases our binds is in his left pocket, and our belongings are in an armory down the hall.”
Pulling her fingers out of the tissue of his jaw, Tara reached down and found it easily. Grinning, she held it up to her restraints and watched them pop off with a hint of relief and a bucket of vicious glee. “Is there anything else we need him for?” she asked absently, already thinking of the ways she could kill him.
Snape shrugged slightly, the movement barely discernable.
Xanthir, having met Tara’s eyes, knew exactly what she was thinking as per usual. “So whaddya say, over easy or hard?”
Tara smirked, knowing her fangs were showing. “Easy.” Simultaneously, they both cast the darkest curses they knew, from bone melting to castrating to eyelid peeling. This easy way was easier for them really, not their victim. She loved how it misled them. Getting off him when she felt his body starting to dissolve into ash, she watched with wicked glee as the terror in his eyes melted into the nothingness of death.
Turning to Cyrus’s cell now that the immediate threat was over, she raised an eyebrow at the sight of Snape already inside, running diagnostics on his charge. Shrugging, she picked her way over the debris and winced at the vomit and blood all over the floor. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know whether it was the vampire’s or Cyrus’s life substance all over the floor, and she didn’t want to taste it to find out.
“Xanthir, go and get the shit from the armory. I’m going to make sure no one kills Snape and Cyrus while they’re weakened. Hurry up.”
The werewolf saluted sloppily with a grin and broke into a quiet lope down the hallway. He disappeared around the corner before Tara could realize that he was still poisoned and call him back. She grimaced. He would be okay. He’d survived the poisoning this long, and from what she understood, the goal had been to kill him slowly and painfully. Letting out tense breath, Tara stayed on the outside of Cyrus’s cell in order to keep an eye out for the guards she knew would be showing up eventually, as Snape was still inside. It was only a matter of time.
When they didn’t show up some time later, Tara was starting to get uneasy. Where were they? And where was Dorcas? He should have been there beating the shit out of them the moment that explosion went off, but instead Rousseau had been the only vampire to show up.
“Snape,” she snapped quietly. A rustle behind her told her she had his attention. “Where the hell are Dorcas and the guards?”
Snape chuckled darkly. “This is not Dorcas’s main operation. Rousseau is his childe, running his projects, while Dorcas apparently has more important things to do than stay here all night. As for the guards, this entire floor is sound proof to hide the screams, and no one has ever broken out of these cells. Speaking of which, how did you manage to escape?”
Tara shrugged. “Special skills,” she said vaguely, looking up and down the hallway. Xanthir should have come back by now. “How’s Cyrus doing?”
Snape was silent for a moment. “Badly. His body is shutting down. At this rate of degradation, I am surprised he is still alive. We need to get him to a healer. Now.”
Tara bit her lip, just about ready to let out an angry yell when she finally heard the sound of Xanthir’s feet down the hallway. “Jesus fucking Christ, finally, Xanthir. What took you so long?”
The werewolf scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, I’m a little slow with the poison, I couldn’t find the room, and- hey, why are you swearin’ with human gods anyway?”
“Jesus wasn’t a god, Xanthir, he was-“
“Can we leave this wretched hell hole?” Snape cut in, an annoyed expression turning his face dark and impenetrable.
Tara nodded and disconnected the ring from her stomach. With a wandless spell, she enlarged it. “You got Cyrus?” she asked Snape, holding it out where they could all hold it.
The vampire nodded, cradling the unconscious human to his chest.
“Fuck me sideways.”
The look on Snape’s face as the world disappeared in a swirl of color was priceless.
oOo
They reappeared inside Cyrus’s room, and Tara wasted no time in shadow walking them all to Healer Svea’s infirmary. She hadn’t had to visit much during her time in Shikaan, outside of first year Healing, but she didn’t let the small size of it throw her. She knew with one removed wall it could service around a hundred people.
Turning to the TA behind the desk, she mentally grimaced. She’d never liked Terry. In fact, she despised him. He rubbed her wrong in every single way a man could rub her wrong.
She didn’t think it was possible for a woman to rub her wrong… fuck she needed to get laid.
“Hey Terry.”
The TA blinked and looked up at her. “Oh. Hi.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don't remember my name.”
He froze. “O-of course I do.”
“No you fuckin’ don’t. Now call up Svea before I feed off your skanky ass.”
Terry looked at her funny. “Skanky? What is that?”
Tara sighed. “You elves need to get out more. You’re missing so much. Anyway, chop chop. Phone? Svea? Now? Or I’ll beat your face in. What’s it gonna be?”
Terry glared at her, but she could smell the fear coming out of his pores. He was well aware that she could follow through with her threat. It probably wasn’t a good idea alienating a future Healer, but nobody liked Terry. She couldn’t decide if it was sheer dumb luck or he was emotionally stunted as a child.
“Look, unless it’s an emergency for a Shikaan student, I can’t help you.”
Tara’s eyes narrowed and before the elf could twitch, she had a knife to his throat. “Listen here little punk ass fairy, we have a Shikaan student dying from a turning here. Now you will phone Svea right now or I will gut you, feed you your own feces, and then dance on your corpse. Do we have an understanding?”
Terry nodded, eyes wide, and Tara let him go. He was speed dialing faster than she had seen someone speed dial before.
“P-professor Svea, emergency,” he stuttered into the phone, and in a second Svea was standing in front of them.
“What’s going on? If this is another non-student I-“ He cut himself off as he caught sight of Cyrus’s body on one of his beds, where Snape had put him. “What happened?”
Snape quietly cleared his throat. “A muggle vampire tried to turn him. His body rejected the change.”
“Xanthir was also poisoned,” Tara tossed on, not wanting her other friend to be forgotten.
Svea glanced at Xanthir’s pale, sickly complexion and ordered him onto one of the beds. “Apprentice. You are familiar with poison removal while using a converting structure, yes?”
Terry nodded. “Separately, Master Healer. I haven’t done both at the same time before.”
“Svea nodded. “Obsidian appears to be in worse condition,” he said, already casting diagnostic spells on the human. “You will begin removing the poison from the werewolf’s brain and other vital organs. Keep him stable and pace yourself.”
With a murmured “Yes, Master,” Terry went to the bed Xanthir was sitting on.
Svea, who was still casting diagnostic spells and examining Cyrus’s body, raised an eyebrow. “Oh my. This is… difficult.” Frowning, he started casting more diagnostic spells. “His magic is getting low incredibly quickly. If he didn’t have such a large core he would have died of magical exhaustion by now. How long ago was he bitten and fed the vampire’s blood?”
“Aah, a few hours? We had no way to judge time, I’m afraid.”
Svea looked annoyed, but brushed it off. “Very well. Did he puke up most of the blood?”
Snape turned to Tara. “You were across from him. Did you see?”
Tara frowned. “There was puke and blood on the floor, but I’m not sure if he got it all out.”
Svea nodded and started creating the magic converting channel he had used while healing Remus. “I am going to have to remove the blood and virus from his body, if I can.” Svea frowned. Something was off… wrong. Odd. It took him a moment to figure it out, but when he did, he let out a soft gasp. Cyrus’s body was breaking down his magic converter and eating it. It was consuming and burning his elven magic as fuel, which should have been completely impossible. No being could use the magic of another being. It just didn’t work. And yet... here it was right in front of him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Tara asked, solemn and pissed off at the same time. If she ever got her hands on Dorcas, he was dying in the most painful way she could manage with blood magic. Slow and excruciating.
Svea sent his magic into the form on the bed in front of him to try to discern exactly how to answer Tara’s question. “I am not entirely certain,” he murmured, watching as his magic was broken down and eaten again. “His body is feeding on magic. His own core is approaching exhaustion, which is extremely dangerous in this situation. We need to find a way to give him more energy.”
Tara frowned. “More energy?”
Svea nodded. “I am unsure why he is still alive, or why his body is eating magic, but from my observations I can only assume that whatever is taking place is fighting the turning. Perhaps if we give his body the magic it needs, he will survive.”
Tara scowled. “And what if this ‘plan’ of yours doesn’t work.”
The elf shrugged. “He will likely die. There is not much I can do at this venture. Stopping a turning is a delicate and difficult process, and with even more complications added to the equation… it is not looking good for Mr. Obsidian.”
The vampire started cursing under her breath like a sailor, turning the TA’s cheeks red with embarrassment as he worked on Xanthir. Snape looked unaffected as he watched Cyrus’s still form.
Svea didn’t even twitch. “I need someone to provide his body with magic. I am unsure what species will work and which will not, but we should try.” He turned to the other beings in the room. He took one look at the bloody and tattered clothes of Snape before turning to Tara. “Tara. I do not have the magic to spare at the moment. If the werewolf is not treated soon, he may die. Would you please feed a small amount of magic to Obsidian to observe his reaction?”
Tara nodded and stepped forward. She gently placed a hand on the chest of her unconscious friend and closed her eyes.
Svea watched closely as she sent a small bit of magic into the human’s body. Both white eyebrows rose in surprise as the human’s body absorbed the vampire’s magic much more easily than it had his own, sucking it into the channels and… digesting it. Turning it into fuel as his body… It was confusing exactly what his body was doing with it. There seemed to be some antibodies fighting and destroying the virus on their own, but at the same time other things were happening that he had no explanation for. His experience with muggle science only went so far, as magical beings had always been far less interested in the finer mechanics of the body. Most often, they didn’t care why something worked as long as it did.
Since it seemed the human wasn’t having a negative reaction to vampiric magic – indeed, his body appeared to like vampiric magic more than elven – he ordered Tara to feed him half of her core. He kept an eye on the situation for any abnormalities, ready to stop her at a moment’s notice.
Tara, without hesitation, did as asked.
Svea watched, fascinated, as Cyrus’s body ate the magic and began distributing it. With that burst of magic, the vampire virus was slowly but soundly defeated until he could no longer detect it within the human’s body at all. And yet Cyrus didn't seem to be getting better. He was deteriorating. It was almost as if… his body was killing itself. It should have stopped its activities, but it was instead increasing them. He watched as the magic Tara had contributed was used up and Cyrus’s own core began to slowly drop again.
“Feed him the rest,” he commanded, hoping that it would help. How was it that a human with such a large magical capacity was reaching magical exhaustion? He didn’t want to contemplate what would happen when the human ran out of magic, either, but he had to consider it. He was a Master Healer, and yet he had never seen anything like this.
Having a human die under his care would be… inconvenient. He had a reputation to uphold. So he watched as yet again, the magic was consumed and became fuel for a process he didn’t even understand.
“Tara.”
The vampire looked up from where she’d been staring blankly at Cyrus. “Yes? How is he? Do you now what’s wrong?”
The expression on Svea’s face didn’t comfort her. “No. But I suspect that if his body uses all his magic, he may die of magical exhaustion. His body seems to react well to vampiric magic, and I’d rather not experiment with yet another species’ magic. Please locate Rivehn and tell him I asked him to come here. Of the vampire teachers, he has the largest core.”
Tara nodded and disappeared into a nearby shadow without a word.
Svea kept an eye on Cyrus as he waited, watching as the human’s body consumed more and more of his own magic. Tapping his finger impatiently on one of his folded arms, he waited.
“What are the chances of him surviving this?” Snape asked quietly from where he stood to the side.
The new voice snapped Svea out of his trance, and the elf looked up to the man who was now pale with black hair and eyes. There was no mistaking the torn black robes, however, or the way he stood. “Unfortunately, I have no answer to that question. He…”
Rivehn came out of a nearby shadow, a frown wrinkling his brow. “What has happened?”
Svea let out a perplexed breath. “Hello Rivehn. I know you’re working on a project of great importance. Do you have any magic to spare?”
The vampire blinked once, taken aback. “Magic to spare? No, not really, but if it is a dire emergency I can refill my core with one of my storage stones.”
The healer nodded. “As I was explaining to…”
“Snape. Severus Snape.”
“As I was explaining to Snape, it appears as though Obsidian’s body is consuming mass quantities of magic. However, I do not know for what purpose. His body has already fought off vampirism…” At Rivehn’s sharp look, he nodded. “Yes, he was infected earlier today with the virus. His body used the magic from Tara’s core to finish fighting it off, but the magic consumption has not finished. In fact, it has increased. It is my hope that if we feed his body enough magic, it will reach a plateau and stop before he reaches dangerous levels of magical exhaustion and dies.”
Rivehn took a step forward. “You wish me to transfer my magic?”
“Yes.”
The vampire nodded and took the seat in front of Cyrus’s bed. He lay a hand on the human’s chest, focused his magic into the still form, and felt his Runes student’s body almost pull the magic out of his hand. He let it go, and the only sign of his surprise at his core being drained in ten seconds was the slight lift of his eyebrows. He pulled his hand away. “That is everything. Did it help?”
Svea was silent for a moment, having never stopped examining the body. Finally, he spoke. “I am unsure. At the current rate of consumption, he will die in an hour. You may stay if you wish. However, I do not believe another transfusion would be of any help.”
Rivehn stayed sitting there for a moment, saying nothing. After a long pause, he let out a quiet breath and stood from the chair. “If he doesn’t make it, please notify me. My duties call.”
Svea inclined his head. “Very well.”
The vampire disappeared into the shadow of the bed.
Svea let out a breath and went to check on his apprentice. He was only there for a few minutes when he heard coughing and rushed back over to Obsidian, hoping to see him conscious. He was disheartened, however, when he saw the blood that Snape was dabbing away from the human’s lips. The elf watched for the next hour as his student’s body got weaker and began to spasm and tremble as he coughed up blood and vomited. His hope that Obsidian would survive decreased the closer the human got to magical exhaustion and the more his body began to fail.
oOo
Darkness.
Ache… why did he ache?
His whole body felt as if he’d been run over by…
He snapped to awareness, eyes opening in surprise before closing again with a groan of pain at the bright light. He could hear the silence interrupted by voices around him, but couldn’t quite understand what they were saying…
He was so tired…
He slipped into darkness again.
oOo
Pain.
His entire body was on fire, and it felt like he was melting from the inside out.
Blearily he opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. He could see a ceiling. It was black marble. That meant he was in Shikaan, right?
“Holy fucking- H-Healer Svea! He’s finally waking up!!” Tara yelled.
The cacophony of sudden noise and voices gave him a headache, and he groaned in pain, closing his eyes. Why could he taste copper?
“Only you, Cyrus…” he heard the familiar voice of Snape mutter nearby through the noise. Cracking his eyes open again, he saw Severus standing over him, the lines around his mouth either from stress or because he was repressing a smile.
Tilting his head listlessly to the side, he caught sight of Svea.
“Hey Healer Svea,” was what me meant to say, but it came out cracked and completely unrecognizable. Svea disappeared for a moment before reappearing with a glass of water and a straw. Cyrus gratefully sipped at it, but swallowing hurt too much so he had to stop before he coughed up a lung by accident.
“How do you feel?” the elf asked quietly.
“Sh-i-t,” he managed to get out.
“I am not surprised.” At Cyrus’s completely confused look, the elf explained. “You were bitten by a vampire, Mr. Obsidian. It appears as though your body successfully rejected the change on its own, but your condition began to deteriorate at an accelerated rate once the virus was gone. You began coughing up blood and vomiting as you approached magical exhaustion. I had expected you to die hours ago. Thus, you can imagine my… surprise, at the fact that you are conscious.”
Cyrus blinked slowly, trying to absorb the information given to him. Oh yeah. He remembered the vampire. He closed his eyes, suddenly extremely glad he was… well. It was a home of sorts. And yet he still wasn’t safe. Not from students, life, or whatever it was that was killing him. “Wh-at’s… wr-… wro-ng.” He coughed and tasted more copper on his tongue. Now he knew it was blood. Great. His head started spinning with the abrupt movements
Svea dabbed away the liquid with a summoned cloth. “I do not know, Mr. Obsidian. From what I have been able to determine, your body was feeding on magic. It was my hope that, if enough were to be transferred to you, your body would be satisfied and would not drain you further…”
Cyrus’s eyes closed as his tired body pulled him back into a deep, healing sleep.
oOo
Cyrus rolled over in his bed with a grunt, burying his face in his pillow. He didn’t care if he had class. He was sleeping. The world could go fuck itself.
A persistent hand tapped his shoulder.
“What?!” he groggily snapped into his pillow.
“Is that any way to speak to the woman that just saved your and Snape’s asses? Nuh uh, Cyrus.”
The human rolled over and blearily peaked open an eye. Was it just him or were Tara’s eyes really red? Like, redder than normal? It was probably just him. He’d been sleeping for… how long had he been sleeping for? And where was he? The pillow was too lumpy to be his own. “Where?” he murmured, trying to look around the room but giving up as the colors swirled and brightened.
“You’re in the infirmary. You almost died.”
Cyrus blinked. The last thing he remembered was… “Severus? He’s okay? How… how did we get out? What happened?” His voice croaked at the end and Tara shoved a straw in his face. He sipped away at it as she recounted the story. He could vaguely remember waking up, but it was like a fog had turned the memory incomprehensible.
“Well, it’s a little complicated. That vampire, Dorcas, tried to turn you, but your body rejected the change. I think you’re one in a handful of humans who can say they survived a turning and didn’t become a vampire. It’s not very common, and usually there are extenuating circumstances.”
Cyrus, who had been panicking upon finding out he’d almost been turned into a vampire, relaxed slightly. “Oh. Okay. So the turning almost killed me?”
“No, actually. It was something else. Svea still has no idea what, too, which is fuckin’ weird. He knows almost everything. Even some obscure muggle shit.”
Cyrus blinked slowly. “Oh. So… I’m fine now?”
Tara shook her head. “Your body is still recovering from the damage, and Svea has around a hundred different diagnostic and warning charms on you in case anything changes. We...” She trailed off, voice becoming quieter. “We almost lost you, Cyrus. Your body was consuming a lot of magic, and even Rivehn donating his entire core didn’t help. We all thought you were going to die, but as soon as you hit magical exhaustion your body just shut down and you went into a healing coma. You were lucid a few hours afterwards, but not for long.”
Cyrus stared. “Coma? How long have I been asleep for?!”
“About three days. It’s Monday evening, now. In case you’re wondering, Snape’s back at home. He told me to tell you ‘to contact him as soon as you were able’.” If Cyrus had been in the right state of mind, he would have found her impression of Snape amusing.
As it were, he just stared. “Huh. And what about Xanthir? Did he make it out okay?”
Tara’s expression darkened. “Xanthir’s still suffering from the poisoning. Svea doesn’t have the magical capacity to heal him right now, so Terry – that’s Svea’s apprentice – is keeping it at a manageable level and away from his major organs until Svea has enough magic to do it himself. We’re lucky he didn’t get the same dosage as that other guardian of yours. Svea said Xanthir would have died by now if he had.”
Cyrus frowned. That wasn’t good. “But, what if I helped, I could-“
“You will do no such thing! We don’t even know the long-term effects of whatever the fuck happened to you. Svea was surprised the magical exhaustion didn’t kill you, and as far as we know it could start up again and kill you for real this time! You’re on ordered bed rest until Svea says otherwise. No magic, no getting up, no nothing. And if you don’t listen I’ll chain you to this bed. Capiche?”
The human scowled. “Fine. When can I get out of here?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to ask Svea. I have no clue.”
“Alright, so when does Svea get back so I can ask him.”
Tara shrugged. “He probably already knows you’re awake. He’ll be around eventually.”
Cyrus scowled at the noncommittal answer and rolled over. “Fine. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Good. You need more bed rest.”
He was about to tell her off when he thought he felt someone else enter the room. He craned his head around and blinked at the sight of Svea. Well. Speak of the devil, or in this case, elf. “Healer Svea! When can I get out of here?”
The elf raised an eyebrow and said nothing, coming closer to run spells over Cyrus’s body. The human couldn’t help but squirm under the sensation. It felt like his every nerve was super sensitized. He could feel every brush and poke of magic. Finally, the examination finished and Svea sat down in the other free chair by his bedside. “I am afraid I still do not know what is wrong with you, Mr. Obsidian, although it appears that your body is healing remarkably well considering the damage sustained a few days ago.”
Cyrus blinked slowly and raised an eyebrow, pushing himself upright so he could lean against the headboard of the bed. “Alright. So what does that mean? When can I leave?”
Svea actually rolled his eyes.
“I pity the healer before Healer Svea that had to deal with you,” Tara muttered, crossing her legs as she sipped from Cyrus’s water.
The elf made a noncommittal sound. “How are you feeling?”
Cyrus blinked and looked down at his hands. Wiggled his toes. “Well, aside from achy, I feel fine.”
Svea inclined his head. “I see. I will have my apprentice bring you some food from the Main Hall.”
Cyrus smiled sheepishly as his stomach growled noisily. “Thanks.”
“You are certain you feel no pain? Or anything else unusual?”
Cyrus blinked. “No. Just achy. Like I’ve been beaten around in Welkin’s class all day.” Was it just Cyrus or did that bring an amused glint to Svea’s eyes?
“Very well. You are to remain here for a minimum of three days. At any symptoms, you will contact me, understood? We are still unsure what is wrong with you.”
Cyrus frowned. “You really have no clue?”
The elf shook his head slightly. “No. In fact, we were surprised you lived at all. Your body was burning through your magic faster than any spell I’ve seen in a long time. We attempted to buy you time by feeding your body more magic, but it did not seem to be effective, and doing so was unsustainable for long periods. I… will have much research to do in the upcoming months.” A glint entered the elf’s eyes that reminded Cyrus of Tara’s ‘thirst for knowledge’ expression. It just figured that Svea would see this from the perspective of a scholar. Cyrus probably made a great freak science project. Or was it magic project in this case?
“Huh,” was all he really had to say to that. He was happy to be alive, no mistake, but as they knew nothing about what was wrong with him, there was no point in getting overly worried.
Yet.
“You will stay in this bed until I deem otherwise. If you must relieve yourself, ask my apprentice to perform the necessary spells. I will not have you relapse for reasons I could prevent. Understood?”
Cyrus nodded, smiling innocently. Svea had never met Madam Pomfrey, so he was unaware of exactly how bad of a patient Cyrus was. Especially now that he could diagnose himself. Well, if he could get his magic working. Everything seemed to be fucked up at that particular moment. So he decided to enjoy his stay in the hell that was hospital wings. For now.
“Hey Tara? Do you think you could find out what I’ve missed in class and bring me my homework and books?” At her raised eyebrow, he turned on the puppy charm. “Please? I’m going to get so bored in here. It would be a shame if I was so bored I started getting stupid ideas.” He smiled.
Tara snorted, amused. “Fine. I will. But you owe me a favor.”
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “I thought being friends meant we helped each other out without having to do the tally of favors crap?”
The vampire blinked. “I guess that’s true.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Alright. I’m sure I can think of something I’ll need your ‘help’ with later.” She grinned viciously and disappeared into a nearby shadow.
Cyrus rolled his eyes. His temperament changed drastically, however, when he caught sight of the TA he’d scared the shit out of. How many days ago had that been, anyway?
Oooh, was that steak? He was ravenous.
oOo
It wasn’t until Wednesday that he finally got control of his magic back. It was the most frustrating three days of his life. You didn’t realize how much you consciously and unconsciously relied on the constant sensation and knowledge of magic right at your fingertips until you couldn’t even tap into it.
It had been a disconcerting process, too, going about regaining control of it. His magic had fluctuated uncomfortably for days before it settled enough for him to grasp it in his hands and send a probe through his body.
Cyrus liked to think he was familiar with his body. He’d been healing his own injuries for a few months now. So, suffice it to say he was very sure there was something wrong with him. Something Svea hadn’t even noticed or told Cyrus about during his checkups. When he’d tried to describe it to the Master Healer, his vocabulary had failed him miserably. The worst comparison he’d come up with was waking up one day and seeing freckles on your face in the mirror, when you knew you didn’t have freckles when you went to bed the night before.
As far as he could tell, he was in perfect health. But the… not freckles. Whatever it was pissed him off. He had no cold viruses floating around, no vampire virus, no rashes, no fever, no nothing, but it was still there and taunting him.
And he still couldn’t cast a simple levitation charm wandlessly and have it work normally. After the first day he’d regained internal control of his magic (he needed that control to even attempt to diagnose himself, after all), but when he’d tried to cast a levitation charm that same day he’d nearly put his textbook through the marble ceiling. After his first escape attempt, Svea had tied him to his bed, which had almost led him to putting his textbook through other beds in spite.
It wasn’t until Thursday that Svea finally released him with orders to take it easy and not blow up anything irreparable. The first thing he’d done once Svea had released him was check up on both his guardians. Remus was recovering nicely from his injuries, and seemed to have forgiven Cyrus for temporarily paralyzing his legs. The fact that’d he’d actually brought Severus home probably contributed to that.
Next, he’d visited Xanthir. The werewolf had been released already, but was still suffering from traces of the silver poisoning.
“Cyrus! You’re out! How ya feelin’?” the werewolf asked with a slightly strained grin as Cyrus sat down at Xanthir’s small ‘kitchen’ table. He knew where Xanthir’s rooms were and visited occasionally, but most of his friends seemed to like congregating at his own rooms more. It was, more often than not, incredibly annoying.
The human’s brow furrowed in concern. “I’m doing better. No one knows what’s wrong with me, but it seems like it’s gone for now.”
Xanthir nodded. “That’s good.”
Cyrus eyed the werewolf’s pale complexion. He was lying in bed, a few textbooks scattered around him and some loose papers. “How about you? You’re not looking so hot yourself.”
The werewolf grimaced. “Svea’s ‘prentice doesn’t have the power to completely heal me, and Svea’s got other patients to heal too. The whole school’s under his jurisdiction. I… I’m starting to think I might be poisoned forever. Constantly in pain…” Xanthir scowled down at his shaking hand. “Weak.”
Cyrus frowned and moved to the bed. “Here. Let me take a look,” he said, shifting some of the papers and sitting on the edge.
Xanthir sighed. “And what’ll you be able to do that Svea couldn’t?”
Cyrus shot him a look. “Don’t bite the helping hand before you even know if it can help. Sit still and keep quiet.”
The werewolf blinked, surprised, but nevertheless shut up and didn’t move.
Cyrus closed his eyes and focused his magic into Xanthir. He didn’t bother with the energy converter, as he was pretty sure he didn’t need it. His magic did it automatically. Now to see if he could keep it from tripping out on him.
When he first started sending magic into Xanthir’s body to assess the damage, it bucked for a moment, but eventually stilled under his steady control. Letting out a relieved breath, he started probing around the werewolf’s body.
What he found alarmed him. Not only did Xanthir have minute traces of the poison still in his tissues, but his body was continuously trying to heal itself and failing. The damage was too extensive and the tissues were beginning to scar. He started drawing the minute traces of poison out of Xanthir’s brain. “Don’t move an inch, got it?”
There was a moment of silence, but as Cyrus had his eyes closed in focus he didn’t see Xanthir’s expression. “Huh? What are you doing? That feels… weird.”
Cyrus snorted. “I’m not surprised. I’m pulling the poison out of your brain.”
“What?! But you’re not a trained healer. Even Svea-“
“Shut up and trust me, alright? One of the other reasons Svea hasn’t been able to finish healing you is because he doesn’t have the power required. I do. And I’ve already done this once before for my guardian. So shut up and let me focus.”
Thankfully, Xanthir was blissfully quiet after that point. It took Cyrus around a half an hour to be sure that all the poison was out, and another half an hour on top of that to heal most of the lasting damage and scarring. He was completely exhausted by the end of it, but it wasn’t like he was going to let his friend walk around with the equivalent of a broken leg.
“There. All done,” he gasped out, flopping back against the werewolf’s bed and landing on the other teen’s legs. It was uncomfortable, but he was too tired to move. Letting out a sigh, he resisted the urge to fall asleep. “You feel better?” he asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for a whole day, and it was only late afternoon.
The bed shifted under him as Xanthir pulled his legs out from under Cyrus’s back. The human let out a content sigh at the lack of bony knees digging into his spine. He could hear the sound of movement for a while, but was too lazy to open his eyes to see exactly what the werewolf was doing.
When Xanthir finally spoke, he was slightly breathless. Had he been doing katas or something? “Y-yeah. I feel… I feel great! I hadn’t even realized how shitty I felt until you… you just… How did you do that?”
Cyrus peaked open a tired eye to see Xanthir standing there, staring at him. “Mm? What, the poison removal? Well, it’s rather simple if time consuming-“
“No, I mean… Svea and Terry made it seem so difficult and… taxing. But you’ve been bedridden after sufferin’ magical exhaustion and you just…”
Cyrus blinked blearily up at him and shrugged. “I dunno why. Svea doesn’t either. It’s… weird.” Well, truthfully, he didn’t know if Svea knew about the ease in which he could convert energies, without even having to consciously create the converter, but he didn’t want the healer to know any more than he already did. Sure, there was patient-healer confidentiality, but how did he know if Svea wouldn’t just break it if it would help Cyrus or perhaps the elf’s research.
It was frustrating, confusing, and the thought of it gave him a headache.
“Who’s Terry?”
Xanthir blinked. “Terry? He’s Svea’s TA.”
Cyrus frowned. “Isn’t he an elf? What kind of elven name is Terry?”
Xanthir snorted and laughed slightly. “It’s short for Teriphalanus.”
The human grimaced. “Oh. I can see why he prefers Terry.” They both grinned, sharing in the humor of it. After a moment, Cyrus closed his eyes, feeling a little lighter. “So. How’s Runes class been? Tara’s been getting my homework for me, but I’ve sort of hit a rut. This transfiguring crap is hard.”
Xanthir groaned and flopped onto the bed beside him. “I knooow. Makes me wonder if Rivehn’s doin’ it to torture us.”
Cyrus chuckled half-heartedly.
“He’s been actin’ a little… off, lately, too.”
Green eyes blinked. “Off?”
“Yeah. In class yesterday, he seemed really… distracted. And a couple times he stopped halfway through a sentence before continuin’. I didn’t smell any sickness on him, but his face was rather flushed.”
“Huh.” The human frowned. How weird.
When Cyrus went to class the next day, he finally understood what Xanthir had meant. He had never seen Rivehn so irritable, flushed, and disorganized. Well, for Rivehn. He wasn’t an incredibly obvious, blatant kind of vampire, but compared to his normal behavior it was quite noticeable.
Cyrus put up a small privacy ward. “You think he’s been cursed?” he asked Xanthir, who was sitting next to him as per usual. Trying not to be too conspicuous, he continued to take down notes from the problem Rivehn was working through on the board.
Xanthir shrugged. “I dunno. It doesn’t really seem to cause too many problems aside from the occasional verbal stumble, but I’ve never seen Rivehn stand in one place for almost an entire lecture before. Normally he wanders a bit.”
Cyrus hummed thoughtfully.
“You think you could check anyway though? Just in case? With that… thing of yours?”
Cyrus raised an eyebrow at him. “What? He’s a teacher!” His eyes narrowed. “You just want to know the reason, don’t you.”
Xanthir grinned. “Guilty as charged.”
The human rolled his eyes before closing them and activating his rune sight. He zoomed in on Rivehn and paused, not knowing exactly what he was seeing. He frowned, confused for a few moments before it finally clicked and his eyes shot wide open in surprise. Hastily, he turned his rune sight off, feeling the blood rush to his face.
Xanthir was watching him curiously.
“It’s not what you think it is and we are never discussing this ever again, got it?” When the werewolf frowned, but nodded and turned back to his own notes with a pout, Cyrus let out a slow, shaking breath and tried to keep his face from turning cherry red. No, he wasn’t going to think. No thinking. No thinking about the- nonono baaad Cyrus. Bad. No thinking. Mental obliviate.
But the next time he looked at Rivehn he couldn’t help but stare with the knowledge that the vampire had some sort of object up his… and that the slight pink hue to his face and the way his mouth would tighten into a line or part slightly or the way his violet eyes were shimmering with hues of amethyst from… from….
It was both unsettling and… and… his face flushed red in mortification and embarrassment. Arousing. He’d never… Well, he’d seen Rivehn and Yankovich make out in front of him and reach, ahem, gratification, but he’d been studiously avoiding any trains of thought leading along those lines.
He didn’t want to even admit it to himself, but…
They were both smoking hot.
He stared down at his notes, biting his lip.
“Um, Cyrus?” Xanthir whispered to him after Cyrus felt the privacy wards go up again. “You might want to cast a scent-hiding spell. You…”
Cyrus blinked before his face flushed again and he quickly cast the spell. A few of his female and male classmates were giving him looks, but he studiously ignored them and focused on the board once again.
He really wished there was a spell for putting down a raging hard on. Damnit! He hated some aspects of being a teenage boy. Fucking hormones. Just the idea of Rivehn’s current position was turning him on. And it wasn’t even only that. Now his brain wouldn’t stop shoving the idea of himself with a… well.
Desperately, he tried to tune back into the lecture.
“-marize, transfiguration spells break many of the ‘rules’ of magic. You have to… always remember that your equations may be imbalanced, but as long as they follow… the rules of transfiguration construction as described in more detail in Merrow’s essays, you should be successful. Now, are there any questions?”
Tentatively, a girl in the front put up her hand. When Rivehn inclined his head in her direction, she spoke. “I know we’ve been going over this material for the past two weeks, but I’m still having trouble with the execution sequences of transfiguration spells. I can write the arrays for the current state and the desired state, but I still can’t make sense of how they come together.”
Rivehn smiled slightly, but it held an edge of strain. “That is understandable… Ms. Forthwright. This is a highly advanced area of magic. My goal is for you to be able to create a fully functioning transfiguration by the end of the year. We still have many more types of spells to cover. However, if you plan to continue on into Spell Crafting next year, I would suggest you study this subject matter in more detail during the summer or ask for the tutoring of an advanced student. In Spell Crafting, you must be able to create charms, hexes, curses, transfigurations, and other spells during the duration of the course.”
Another hand went up. “And what if we’re more interested in going on to Warding instead?”
“Then it is best if you… have a passable knowledge or understanding of how transfiguration structures work, but not necessarily the particulars on creating one. Any other questions?”
And another hand went up. “What percentage will transfiguration be on the final exam?”
Rivehn let out a faintly annoyed sound and summoned a book from his office. Once it landed in his hand, he started flipping through the pages. He stopped after a few moments. “The final exam is divided into two portions: the final project and the test.
“For the final project, you will be given three options to choose from. For example, you may be asked to ‘take a common household heating charm and make it into as many deadly variations as you can’ to ‘create a spell that freezes inanimate objects but nothing living.’
“For the test… It is divided into many sections: vocabulary, grammar, elementary structure recognition, analysis, and creation, and error detection. I will not put anything on the test that we have not covered in class or in your assigned reading.
“To answer your question: due to the wide distribution of spell types we cover during the duration of this course, there will likely be only one specific transfiguration question. I cannot see… it being more than five percent of your overall test mark. However, that does not mean that you do not need to learn it. I expect effort from all my students. If you score below 75% on the final exam you will not be able to use this course as a prerequisite for Spell Crafting or Warding. If you score below 60%, you fail entirely. Remember, the final exam is 50% of your final grade. Lastly, rewrites are available to those willing to pay for them before school begins again in the fall. They are often harder, however, as most teachers have… better things to do with their summer than create a new test for those who failed. So… I would suggest you not score below your desired percentage.
“Any other questions? No? Hand in your homework assignment. Class dismissed.” He stood at the front of the class as the students dropped off their work on his desk and departed, reading something in the book in his hands.
Cyrus took his time packing up his things, wanting to ask Rivehn for the names of some students who could tutor him in transfiguration. He waved to Xanthir as the werewolf left before slowly walking down the terraced classroom floor to where Rivehn stood.
“Mr. Obsidian?” Rivehn asked, closing his book. Most of the class had already left. “Is there something you needed?” he asked, his voice strained a bit.
Cyrus nervously bit his lip, incredibly glad his hard on had faded during the lecture on their final exam. “Yeah, actually. I was wondering if I could get a tutor for Runes, or if you knew anyone who’d be willing and… knows what they’re talking about.”
Rivehn frowned slightly. “You are not behind in the course even after missing two classes. Why do you need a tutor?”
Cyrus sighed. “I’ve always sucked at transfiguration, and it’s not getting any easier even though I’m starting to get the rules. It’s just… frustrating, not understanding it as easily as everything else comes to me.”
Rivehn hummed thoughtfully. Cyrus couldn’t help but think he had a sexy voice. “So it is just transfiguration that you are having difficulty with? Are you taking Transfiguration? The course?”
Cyrus shook his head.
“Very well. I believe there is a student who can help you. Most of my advanced students know only enough on this particular spell type to get by, but Ms. Soterios is an exception. She excels in transfiguration. Unfortunately, I do not have another class with her until Tuesday. I will pass on to her your desire for a tutor then. Would you like me to give her your magi-com number?”
Cyrus blinked. “There’s no way to contact her this weekend?”
The vampire shook his head. “No. You could, of course, see if you could contact her through other students. Her full name is Symphennia Soterios.”
Cyrus thought about it for a second. “Yeah, can you give her my number?”
The vampire nodded and pulled out his own magi-com. Cyrus was impressed he’d managed to keep a straight face for their entire conversation. He rattled off his number (he’d memorized it during his boring stay in the infirmary, as he hadn’t had much else to do).
Rivehn put it into his magi-com and Cyrus put his assignment on the vampire’s desk and left with a quick “thanks”, incredibly aware of the distracting fact that Rivehn probably had a hard on beneath his suit.
And now he was having a similar problem again, but he had no time to handle it as he was nearly late for Necromancy. Not wanting to be late, he disapparated. He appeared with a quiet pop right outside the classroom and hurried inside. Just in time, too, as Mikhail walked in the moment he sat down.
The class went as badly as could be expected. Mikhail noticed that his control was even worse than usual.
“What has happened since last Friday? I noticed you missed my class on Monday, as well,” the elf asked him after he had raised his third flesh-eating zombie in the first ten minutes of class. The rest of the students were giving him a wide berth.
Cyrus sighed. “I… got into an accident. Got magical exhaustion last weekend, and things still aren’t… working smoothly.” In fact, things were working terribly. Or not working at all. It was as if his magical equilibrium was all fucked up. Sure, he’d managed enough control over his natural magic to survive classes, but even that was a little wonky every now and then, and his death magic, which he normally had trouble controlling, was even worse.
It was frustrating as hell.
“Magical exhaustion? That is not good. One of the reasons you are having difficulties right now is because the balance of your magic is tipped. If you do not restore equilibrium soon, the chances of your death magic becoming wild and possibly killing you increase.”
Cyrus sighed. “Great. What do I do then?”
“Hmm… I would suggest balance. Make the quantity of both within you equal.”
Cyrus ran a hand through his hair. “But how do I do that? Safely? Without killing anyone by accident?”
Mikhail reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a black marble about the size of a tennis ball. He held it out to Cyrus and the human cautiously took it. “That is a stone used for storing death magic for later use. It is a mixture of obsidian and another rare and expensive magical stone. It is very difficult to make, so please do not break it. Simply pour your death magic into the store. If you begin to feel it heat up, you are reaching the limit of its capacity.”
Cyrus stared dubiously down at the stone for a moment before shrugging and trying it. He started with a little bit before slowly increasing his output, keeping an eye on his internal balance. When he had drained about half into the stone and felt more balanced, he handed it back. “So, is this going to help?”
Mikhail nodded, turning the stone over in his hands and watching it intently. “Yes. You should find raising two inferi at a time easier now.”
Shrugging, Cyrus checked his salt circles before giving it another shot. To his surprise, it worked! He didn’t have to concentrate nearly as hard as he usually did! Turning back to Mikhail, a devious idea took root in his mind. If having less death magic made it easier to control… “Professor, what are stones like that called?”
Mikhail paused and looked up, his expression becoming amused. “You would not be able to afford one.”
Cyrus widened his eyes innocently. “Really? Well that’s too bad. Still, it would be nice to know the name of it anyway.” He smiled again with false good-humor.
Mikhail watched him with sharp eyes. “It is called a Linmeyelle.”
“Linmeyelle? Thanks. What language is that?”
“Elvish. The necromancer who invented it named it after his wife.”
Cyrus smiled. “Oh, that was nice of him.”
Mikhail snorted and put the stone back into his robes. “Not really. He always referred to her in his notes as ‘that witch who sucked the life out of him.’ Apparently she was quite the shrew.” The elf wandered off to help another student.
The human watched him go, thrown by that ironic bit of history.
“Hey Cyrus,” a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.
The human resisted the urge to wince. “Hi, Ashawyn.” He hadn’t seen the ice fae since… well, last Friday. Knowing the probability of this going ugly was high, he put up a privacy ward.
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to contact you, but your friend, Tara I believe, refuses to give me your com number.”
“Oh, well…” Cyrus refused to meet the fae’s eyes, wondering how he was going to explain this but not explain it. “My guardian was hurt, and now he’s better, but… Well, it was a complicated week. I haven’t even had the chance to try to get in contact with you.”
He could feel Ashawyn’s eyes on his face. Finally, the fae sighed. “I see… Do you want to finish our date some time? Perhaps this weekend?”
Cyrus’s eyes twitched. He had a shitload of catching up to do this weekend, and he didn’t think he’d have time for a social call. “I don’t know, I’m really busy. I missed a lot of classes this week.”
Awkward silence.
Finally, Ashawyn sighed. “If you’re blowing me off, just say it. You don’t need to invent excuses.”
Cyrus turned to him, gaping. “Excuse me?! I’ve been in a hospital bed for the past five days!”
Ashawyn’s eyes widened and he stepped into Cyrus’s space, checking him over. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Cyrus sighed and ran a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, and I don’t want to go into it, okay?”
The ice fae looked hurt and disappointed. “I see. You don’t trust me enough to tell me.”
Spluttering, Cyrus wondered how this had turned around so royally. “Wha- that’s not what I said! Don’t put words in my mouth. And did it not even occur to you that I’ve only known you for, what, a week? The most amount of time we’ve spent together was on that date, so don’t get pissed at me for being a little reluctant to spill everything about my life to you!”
Ashawyn took a step back, hands held up in an attempt to pacify Cyrus’s sudden burst of anger. “Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just… I find you attractive. And interesting. I want to get to know you better, but it’s hard to do that when you keep pushing me back all the time.”
Cyrus bit his lip to hold back any more nasty comments that he’d probably regret after four hours of cooling down. He’d never had someone actively pursuing him before, and he had no idea how to deal with it. “Look. I understand, but I’m not looking for-“
Ashawyn moved really close, a faint smile curling his lips. “I know you find me attractive. If you’re not looking for a relationship, there are other options.” He ran a hand down Cyrus’s chest, and the human immediately flinched away. Ashawyn’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not the first time you’ve done that.”
Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Especially not here.”
“Why do you recoil from my touch, Cyrus?”
The human scowled at him. “I’m just not touchy feely like you are.”
Ashawyn shook his head. “I know you’re aroused. I could sense it the moment I got within five feet of you. So why are you still so disgusted by the idea of me touching you?”
Cyrus was beginning to get annoyed. “Like I said before, Ashawyn, it’s not like I’m going to spill my secrets to you just because you think I’m hot. It doesn’t work that way.”
The ice fae frowned. “I just find it frustrating! I want to know-“
“You think I don’t?!” Cyrus yelled, raising his voice for the first time. It didn’t matter, really, with the privacy wards up. Before he could wait for a response, he disapparated, too incensed to think clearly.
oOo
Tara was studying in his room when he showed up, and his furniture started rattling with accidental magic. All he wanted was a little personal space, and now he couldn’t even have that! Did he have to buy a fucking house or something?!
Tara took one look at his face before grabbing her books and falling into the shadow of his bed.
Letting out an angry, but relieved breath at not having blown up at Tara, he locked his door with every spell he knew, pulled himself under the covers, and turned off his lights with a thought. If a vampire paid him a visit that night, they were getting decapitated. Period.
He got about four hours of quiet before someone started knocking hesitantly at his door. Grumbling to himself, he tossed off his covers and prepared to tell whoever was on the other side of that door to bugger off if they knew what was good for them.
It was Ashawyn. He opened his mouth to tell the fae off, but Ashawyn cut him off.
“Wait, just… before you get mad at me, wait.”
Cyrus scowled. “I’m already mad at you, but fine. Sure. Go ahead. Make it worse. What?”
Ashawyn smiled, but it was strained. “You really don’t make it easy for a guy.”
Cyrus just stared at him blankly, too tired and taxed from the past two weeks to feel any sympathy.
“Look, I… I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve put myself out there, I know you find me attractive, too, but… Everything I say and do just offends you. What am I doing wrong?”
“Well, first off,” a familiar voice came from behind them, “you’re getting right in his face and space. Cyrus doesn’t like that. He’s a very private person.”
Cyrus groaned and looked behind him to see the shadow of Tara lounging on his bed. He turned on the lights with a thought.
“Second, why don’t you try just being his friend first? Hang out with him without trying to get in his pants all the time. Help him with his school work.”
Cyrus glanced at Ashawyn to see the fae soaking in her advice with rapt attention. He desperately wanted to bash someone’s head against the wall.
“Third, he’s human! Stop treating this like a fae courtship. Humans don’t do the same pheromone thing you lot do. They’re all about social interaction, who has what in common with who, etc.
“Fourth, not only is he human, he’s a prudish human! You say cock to his face and he turns red. See? Red.”
Cyrus, whose cheeks were indeed burning, glared at Tara.
“So for god’s sake! Turn down the heat! Cyrus isn’t the type to fuck you just because you’re hot. Get over yourself, playboy.”
Ashawyn blinked. “What is a play boy?”
Tara grinned. “Human pop culture word for someone who gets laid a lot and has no trouble picking up dates. A womanizer. Except in this case, you chase boys.”
Cyrus wanted to burrow under his covers in abject humiliation. This conversation was not taking place in his doorway.
“Oh. Well, thank you for the advice. I’m afraid I’ve never tried to date a human before.” He grinned bashfully, and Cyrus found himself overwhelmed by how cute he was as if this were the first time they’d met all over again. Except now his nose was beginning to tickle. Like a sneeze was coming. Great.
“Yeah. I could tell. And stop using so much bloody glamour! You trying to give me a nose bleed?”
Cyrus, whose nose was starting to itch and tickle even more, glared. “Glamour?! You’re using glamour on me?!”
Ashawyn grinned sheepishly. “Is it working?”
Before Cyrus could come up with a suitably angry remark, he had exploded into a sneezing fit of the likes he’d never before experienced. After five consecutive sneezes, he lost his balance. Someone caught him, but he still couldn’t see clearly.
“What?” he murmured to himself as someone lowered him carefully to the ground.
“-rus? Cyrus? Can you hear me?”
Tara was kneeling in front of him, a worried expression on her face.
Cyrus blinked. “Yeah, just… felt dizzy for a second there.”
Tara bit her lip in concern. “Should I take you back to Healer Svea?”
“Wha? No, that’s not… not necessary. I don’t think… I’m fine, it was just a dizzy spell.”
“You’re sure? This is the first time this has happened?”
“Yeah.” He blinked and looked at the arm around his shoulders, holding him up. Huh. He wasn’t repulsed by it. That was… new. Maybe because he was all fuzzy in the head. Felt like he had… congestion or something.
He looked up and got the full blast of… whatever it was. Ashawyn was really hot. With his pretty ice blue eyes, and his nice black hair. Cyrus kind of missed his own black hair. Well, not really, but the color looked really good on Ashawyn.
“You know… you’re really hot,” the human said with a smile, leaning into Ashawyn’s hold. He didn’t see the look Tara and the ice fae exchanged, so focused was he on those pretty blue eyes.
“Ashawyn? Turn off your glamour. Completely. Now.”
Cyrus blinked. Frowned. “What the hell?” he exclaimed defensively, pushing out of Ashawyn’s embrace.
Tara shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I have no idea what the hell that was. It was almost as if your reaction to the glamour was postponed and then hit you twice as hard. Thalla, has this ever happened before?”
The fae shook his head. “No. Never. Well, not that I know of. It was almost… like an allergic reaction.”
There seemed to be more being communicated through their eyes that Cyrus couldn’t decipher, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He wanted sleep.
“Alright, the show’s over,” Cyrus grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. “I want sleep and alone time. Now. Bye.”
Tara watched him for a moment, concerned, before nodding. “Alright. You heard him fae-boy, let’s go.” She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out before he could get in so much as a word edgewise, closing the door behind her.
Cyrus relocked his door and climbed under the covers, this time putting a silencing ward on the door too.
oOo
The next week of classes passed smoothly enough. Cyrus managed to catch up on most of his work, even though Ashawyn seemed dead set on ‘visiting’ him now. Eventually they settled into a comfortable silence, each doing their own work. Occasionally Cyrus would make lunch or dinner for them – and Xanthir when he popped by – and other times he and Ashawyn would go to the Main Hall, where more often than not they ran into both Xanthir and Tara.
He hadn’t come within twenty feet of Yalmireth since the demon’s blow up the day Severus had been captured, which was probably a good thing, as the demon didn’t seem to be particularly happy about Ashawyn’s sudden addition to the group.
Cyrus didn’t care, though. He’d dealt with enough angry friends (Ron, Ron, and Ron) that he knew the only way to fix things was if Yalmireth himself pulled out the scorpion that had had crawled up his ass and died. When, or if, that happened, and only then, would he consider extending the hand of friendship again. Yalmireth needed to get over whatever this was first.
It was after that week, two weeks after the rescue of Severus, that it happened.
“Cyrus?” Tara asked after she’d appeared in his room Saturday morning.
The human spat the toothpaste out of his mouth and tightened the towel around his waist. “Yeah?”
“Xanthir’s missing.”
Cyrus stared at her. “What? What do you mean, ‘missing’?”
She scowled. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since he met with his pack yesterday. I’ve been phoning his magi-com every half an hour, and it’s gone to voice message every time.”
Cyrus sighed. “Great. Rescue one person and another goes missing. I couldn’t get more than two weeks of peace?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Maybe the world decided you’d had enough peace and this was your punishment.” They both laughed humorlessly for a moment before becoming serious again.
“Well, he’s with his pack, right? That should mean he’s safe?”
Tara shook her head. “No. He’s not really… on good terms with his uncle, the Alpha.”
Cyrus frowned. “I thought he was going to apprentice under his uncle after graduating.”
“Oh no, not that uncle. That uncle is a bit of an outcast from the pack. The Alpha on the other hand, is a right dick. I’ve had the displeasure of meeting him once before. He’s never approved of Xanthir’s friendship with me, but I told him straight to his face he couldn’t do a fuckin’ thing about it. He was pissed, to say the least.” She grinned, staring off into space in thought.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Okay, enough spacing out about ass kicking’s and insults. We need to figure out where he is, right?”
“Oh no, I can find out where he is.”
The human blinked slowly. “Okay, now see, that doesn’t make any sense. Because you came up to me five minutes ago saying that Xanthir is missing.”
“He is missing. Just not from me. I came to you because I need your help to go rescue him from his pack.”
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say that?” he asked, frustrated.
She grinned. “Because I knew your reaction would have been priceless. And it was.”
Cyrus rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You ready to go on a manhunt? It’ll take me about five minutes to get the blood magic tracing seal working.”
Cyrus blinked. “Tracking seal? What the hell is that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like, unless suddenly you can’t speak English.”
“Whatever. Do you have one of those things on me?”
“Yep. Put it on you while you were unconscious the day of the Trial.”
“Wh- How the hell did you get into my room?!”
“I know you use those pretty lights of yours to get rid of all the shadows, but there are other ways, Cy.”
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll get ready and let’s get this over with. Yeesh.”
“What’s got you in such a bad mood? You got a date with Ashy this weekend?”
“As a matter of fact, he was taking me on a hike,” Cyrus grumbled, pulling out his magi-com and starting to punch in a quick text to say he had to cancel. Friend emergency and all that. And that they would go on their hike when he got back.
He and Ashawyn had come to a sort of… understanding, over the past week. Once the apprentice had stopped being all weird and had just hung out with him, Cyrus had found himself warming up to him. Ashawyn knew not to touch him, they did homework together, occasionally they ate dinner, and everything worked out okay. This weekend was supposed to be a ‘not-date’. Ashawyn was going to take him walking through one of the faerie forests that he’d only ever heard stories about. After being reassured that it was nothing like the Forbidden Forest (“Nothing’s going to bite my head off, is it? Or bite me? Or inject me with poison, spin me in a web, and eat me slowly and painfully?”), he’d thought about it for about a day before deciding to do it.
Now Ashawyn would just have to be understanding and not take it personally. He sent the text and started dressing in his basilisk skin armor.
Ten minutes later, he was ready for whatever he could think of, and Tara had created an odd… bloodied crystal looking thing.
“What the hell is that?”
“It sort of works like dowsing. You hold it over a map and the crystal moves toward the owner of the blood. In this case, it’s honed into the blood seal.”
Cyrus blinked and watched as she held the crystal over one of her maps and found Xanthir’s ‘apparent’ location in less than a minute. “Useful. Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Advanced blood magic. It would take years for you to get far enough to do that.”
Letting out a disappointed sigh, he pulled his buzzing magi-com out of his pocket and read the text waiting for him.
Understand. Will see you when you get back. Be safe?
Ashawyn
He smiled. Well, that was certainly better than the time Ashawyn had accused Cyrus of blowing him off.
Sure. Thanks. Will keep in touch.
Cy
“You done texting your pretty boy? We have a lot of ground to cover.”
Cyrus frowned. “Can’t you just shadow walk us there?”
“I’m going to, but it’s not exactly smart to just barge into a situation without taking a look at things, and it’s not like shadow walking is instantaneous travel. Disapparition is a lot faster. For me it will be a lot of ground to cover. You’re just along for the ride.”
Cyrus grunted, putting his phone on silent. Wolf ears were sensitive, after all, and a vibration still made noise. Casting a quick slew of spells to prevent detection, he ran though his mental list of things-not-to-forget. He had just about everything. Aside from needing to stock up on a bit of water when he came back, he was good to go.
“When are we leaving?”
“When you’re ready. I already packed.”
“Well, I’m ready, so lets-“ He was cut off as Tara, without another word, just yanked him into a shadow.
They spent what seemed like five whole minutes in shadow before Tara finally pulled them out into the middle of a forest. There wasn’t much snow on the ground, probably due to the thick foliage above them. It was already starting to get dark out, so Tara moved them in and out of the shadows as they looked for… whatever it was Tara was looking for. Finally, they came to a stop in front of what looked to be a cave.
~:What’s that?:~ he sent telepathically, hoping she’d understand his intent even if she still couldn’t understand what he was saying.
::I’ll assume… asking the obvious. That is a cave. It’s the… for Xanthir’s pack. I want you to stay here, and I’ll slip inside… what’s going on. Okay?::
~:Sure…:~
She disappeared in a flash of darkness, and Cyrus stayed as still as he could to prevent detection. He’d cast an invisibility spell, a silencing spell, and scent-hiding spells on him, but you never knew with werewolves. You had to be careful.
“Well look what we have here.”
Cyrus swore in his head and craned his neck around, coming face to face with a tall, big man wearing no shirt or shoes.
“What’s a human doing in the forest in the middle of our territory?” he asked, leaning closer to Cyrus and sniffing. “Nice spellwork, kid, but my nose is stronger than that. Either you’re a shoddy wizard or you need to find better charms but I must say, you do smell divine. For a male. I prefer women myself, but I’ve been known to make a few… exceptions.”
Cyrus wondered whether it would be smart or stupid to start casting spells at this point.
“Go on. Get inside. The Alpha’s already caught your little vampire friend.”
Great. Letting out a slow breath, Cyrus inched his way into the cave with a grimace.
The Were behind him was completely silent as he moved across the ground, and after a few minutes of walking they were deeper into the tunnel than Cyrus ever wanted to go.
“You leave, we kill your vampire friend. Get it?” the werewolf had said during the first minute of travel.
Cyrus was considering being stupid at that point, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Tara. She hadn’t left him after all.
Finally, after what had to be fifteen minutes of travel, the cave opened up into a larger, oval-shaped room with torches spaced unevenly across the walls.
“Finally, Urga. I was beginning to think you’d eaten him.”
Seeing Tara chained to the wall, Cyrus made to go to her, but was caught by the werewolf behind him. “Now, now, can’t have you that close together. You might get ideas.” He did something quick with his legs that knocked Cyrus’s own out from underneath him with ridiculous ease. He hit the ground with a thump. Spitting dirt out of his mouth, he pushed himself upright to come face to face with a set of golden eyes.
He froze.
The werewolf grinned. “Well, well. So the human has some survival instincts after all. Why don't you show us all how smart you are and tell us who you are, where you’re from, and more importantly, why you’re here.”
Cyrus glanced over at Tara, but the werewolf gripped his chin tightly until the human looked back at him.
“Now, now, none of that. Can’t have her making all your decisions.”
“Stop it, Uncle. They’re here for me.”
The strong hand released his chin and Cyrus grimaced at the bruises he could feel beginning to form. He healed them with an absent thought, watching the drama unfold. Xanthir was standing at the head of the cave, an angry look on his face.
“Xanthir. How wonderful of you to join us. Perhaps now that I have these two as incentive you will share the information I need to know?”
The werewolf said nothing, and the Alpha growled angrily.
“You will tell me who can heal the younglings of their silver poisoning, Xanthir, or I will rip you limb from limb after I’ve had your friends for supper.”
~Toki Mirage~
The end of another chapter brings another cliffhanger. Not as bad as the last, I hope?
Huge thanks to Marmee Noir for betaing this chapter!! She did a wonderful job helping me out in Roos’s absence. Send healing vibes in Roos’s direction! Hopefully once she’s feeling better and done her 6 essays from hell she will return to the BS musing. U.U (is sad)
FYI – I’m working on a second installment of R/Y smut for you all to celebrate the writing of 200,000 words, and the reaching of 3,000 reviews and 400,000 hits. WOOT! Thanks to everyone for supporting the fic and feeding the author! I’m sorry it took a week to finish the editing for this chapter, but c’est la vie.
Thanks for reading!
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