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
- 22
- 23
- 24
Bloody Skies
oOo
Chapter Twenty-Three:
oOo
Cyrus sighed as he trudged through the hallways back to his room. If he had magic right now, he could have just apparated back, but nooo, he was stuck walking through the halls with no way to defend himself and a killer after his ass.
He'd just come from Svea's, where he'd had to explain what had happened the day before in extensive detail before he'd been allowed to leave. He'd missed all his morning classes, as Ashawyn hadn't had enough power to transport them back to Shikaan until lunchtime. Now the only class he had was Necromancy, but he had no intention of going to that when his natural magic was so depleted. It was just stupid to tempt fate.
When he finally arrived at his door, body parts in fact, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and reached to turn the knob. Only to realize it was locked. Have you ever kept turning the knob, knowing it was futile, but hoping to Merlin that it was just stuck? That was his mindset at that moment. If he was lucky, maybe this was all just a part of some poison-induced hallucination. Feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, he tried knocking. Not that anyone would be there to answer it.
The door swung open, and Tara stood on the other side of it with a very odd expression on her face.
"Thank Merlin," Cyrus muttered under his breath, pushing past Tara and into the room, for once glad that one of his friends had camped out in his room again. With a grunt, he dropped the tent bag onto the floor with a smack and collapsed irritably onto his bed, planning to sleep.
"Where were you this morning? And… why are you knocking on your own door?" she asked, leaning against the closed door and crossing her arms over her chest. What was she, his deranged older sister? From the way her homework covered his small table, she'd been here for quite a while. What was it with his friends camping out in his rooms?
"Why are you in my rooms again?" he parried, not really in the mood.
"Because getting a hold of you on your magi-com is nearly impossible most of the time. Sometimes I think you turn it off just to irritate me."
"Whatever," he grumbled, turning over on the bed so he couldn't see her anymore.
"So? Where were you? Why the hell are you knocking? Did you decide to… extend your weekend with the boy wonder? Is he really that good of a fuck? Or are you still not having sex with-"
"Tara!" Cyrus sputtered out, blushing as he propped himself up on his arms to glare at her. She just grinned at him, flashing fang.
"So? Is he a good lay? Or were you just skipping classes for the hell of it?"
Cyrus cleared his throat and looked away. "It's none of your business."
Her eyes widened, as did her grin. "You diiid~! So, how was it? He any good? I hear fae are quite practiced in the sexual arts by the time they hit adulthood, but I've never tried that flavor myself before. So? He any good?"
The human glared. "None of your damned business."
She let out a mock-sigh and shrugged her shoulders. "You do realize I can smell the arousal comin' off you, right? You toootally got yourself fu-"
"STOP!"
"-into the mattress and-"
"ALRIGHT! Enough! Yes we had sex! Yes it was great! Now can we stop talking about it?!"
Tara just smirked smugly, buffing her nails on her shirt. "Sure. Where the heck were you? Getting fu-"
"My illness decided to show its ugly face this weekend," he interrupted quickly, knowing where this was going. "I would have apparated here earlier but I can't even conjure a ball of light right now," he grumbled.
"What?! And you're not in the infirmary?"
Cyrus sighed. "Svea kicked me out. Said that I'd already gotten over most of my physical symptoms. Aside from a headache and the occasional bought of nausea, I'm 'fine'. Just magicless for almost a week."
His poor chair groaned as Tara threw herself onto it. "Well, fuck. You're going to have to make sure you don't wander around Shikaan without either me or Xanthir with you, then."
Cyrus blinked. "What?"
"Well, if it gets out, you're going to be a walking target, and with the rumors of Troy Guylan gunning for you…"
"Who?"
Tara shook her head with sigh. "You are so bad with names and politics it astounds me. Troy Guylan. Nicknamed Top Gun by his peers for the way he fights with modified muggle guns. He's the most influential and powerful human in the student body. This is his fifth year here at Shikaan, though rumor has it he's going to apprentice to Welkins for a sixth year here. He's climbed over bodies to get to the top, and he's not afraid to kill to keep his position, though normally he only does so when it's necessary. People have been whispering about you, the new first year that skipped a year in Runes class and has more magic than anyone our age has the right to have."
Cyrus pulled himself into a sitting position in sheer disbelief. "What? He's kicking up a fuss now after I've been here for five and a half months?"
Tara shrugged. "Don't get all pissy at me. I know you could care less about challenging his position to obtain a little social standing yourself, but the rumors say you're going to. The most likely scenario is that people want to see what would happen if you two went up against each other, and spread the rumors to that end. From what the grapevine says, he's going to challenge you sometime this week if you don't do it first."
Cyrus's jaw fell open. "I have no intention of challenging anyone!"
She shook her head. "You may not choose to challenge other people, Cyrus, but if Top Gun comes looking for a fight, you're going to have to step up or get stepped on."
The human scowled. "Then I'm not leaving my room this week."
Tara burst into laughter. "Like that's going to work! Maybe for a few days, but eventually people are going to figure out where you're hiding."
"Maybe I should just leave Shikaan until my magic's restored, then."
Tara's chuckles cut out quickly, and she shot him a look. "You can't just ditch school for a week without a good reason, idiot. Not only will you fall behind, but no teacher likes a skipper. Sure, take today and tomorrow off, but go to class on Wednesday."
Cyrus grunted and collapsed back onto his bed. Maybe he could go Wednesday. His magic would be partly recovered then, even if he wouldn't be able to control it worth shit. But what about the necromancer trying to kill him? Hiding in his room wouldn't stop the bastard from coming after him again. "Hey Tara?" he asked after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"Could you take me to Gemini Square later tonight to pick up my new armor?"
"Sure. I'll come by at seven."
"Thanks."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, she left his room with a quiet rustle of clothing.
Closing his eyes, Cyrus fell into a light doze, trying to ignore the real world for just a bit longer.
oOo
Weapons and Battle went pretty well that Tuesday morning, but left him absolutely exhausted as he headed to Healing. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Svea again so soon, but he couldn't exactly skip. They had a rather large anatomy test.
Thank Merlin it hadn't been a practical, though.
Walking into the class, Cyrus groaned as he saw that the class bitch was in one of her moods again. It never ceased to amaze him how two-faced she could be once you caught her outside of Svea's classroom. She probably had a crush on the elf or something, because there she was – yet again – helping the elf by organizing the exam booklets (and peaking at the questions on the test).
And it wasn't even that she was unjustifiably full of herself. She was probably going to be one of the best healers in the world once she went off to Healer's School, but that didn't change the fact that her bedside manner was worse than Snape's.
"Please take your seats quickly," Svea called out to the students still chatting by the door, "as the test will begin shortly."
The stragglers' conversation dwindled as they obeyed the elf's order. Cyrus absent-mindedly checked that his click pencil was still working. There were some things he loved about the muggle world, and click pencils were one of them.
Svea started distributing the tests with the help of Erin, the class prodigy, and Cyrus grimaced as he caught sight of the first question. He should have studied more for this test. Problem was, Cyrus was way more into the practical aspect of all of his classes. Memorizing the names of all the bones in the body wasn't something that particularly interested him, though he'd done it like everyone else in the first week of Svea's classes.
And now he was checking to make sure no one had forgotten these things. Great. Clicking his pencil, Cyrus prepared himself for the most hellacious Healing test to date.
The second part of the test was things he was more familiar with, thankfully. Like how does one heal the break in a bone on the microscopic level so you couldn't even tell there had been an injury. It was one thing haphazardly casting a healing spell on a bone and letting the magic figure out the particulars, and another entirely actually doing it all manually. Of course, the reason why there were healers was because magic spells couldn't do everything. For example, it was impossible to make a spell that could remove all the poison in your body because there were too many steps and particulars depending on each person.
The last two questions on the test were a surprise, however.
Bonus question 1: If you were to find yourself slowly decomposing after an inferius infected you, explain how you would logically deal with this situation you are unfamiliar with. In detail.
Bonus question 2: If you were treating a disease with which you were unfamiliar, what would you do?
Cyrus answered the first question easily enough, having already run into that particular problem. The second question gave him some pause, however. They'd been delving into the way viruses and diseases behaved in the body lately, but they'd never approached it from the treatment or research standpoint. Svea was more focused on them being able to identify and memorize details, and, in his words, 'Learn when a problem is above your intelligence and consult a trained professional.'
Knowing he didn't have much time left until class ended, Cyrus copped out on the last question.
I'd find someone smarter than me.
Leaning back in his chair, he let out a sigh and checked over some of his answers, brain now about as dead as his body. He hated tests. He'd rather heal a stomach wound than write one. Standing up to hand in the paper, he left the class and wondered what to do while he skipped DATD and Wandless Magic. There was no point in going to the classes if he couldn't cast magic, and he'd rather not draw attention to himself by looking like an idiot when a simple levitation charm blew up in his face.
Heading back to his room, his thoughts drifted to his weekend with Ashawyn. He hadn't really had time to let it sink in. He'd… had sex two days ago. With a man. A very hot man, but still… And the circumstances hadn't exactly been what he'd wanted. Who besides Cyrus found themselves with some crazy-ass illness that nearly knocked them into a magical coma and turned them into a ragingly horny… Arg! These things always happened to him. No bloody rest for Harry bloody Po-
Walking around a corner, he smacked face-first into someone. Falling back and landing on his ass after bouncing off the wall of steel, he grimaced and opened his mouth to apologize.
Rivehn was standing above him with an amused expression on his face. When a hand extended to help him up, Cyrus didn't know what to do with it at first before his brain kicked back into gear. Swallowing nervously, he accepted the proffered hand and felt his breath whoosh out of him when he was easily pulled to his feet.
Rivehn's hand was… surprisingly warm. He couldn't help but feel a slight wave of disappointment when it released his own.
"You should be more careful, Mr. Obsidian. Not all teachers at this institution take well to being walked into," Rivehn said in a low murmur, lips quirked upwards slightly in amusement.
"Uh…" Cyrus's brain stumbled for a response. "Er, sorry. Didn't mean to… walk into you. I just have some stuff on my mind…"
Rivehn raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Do you not have a class this period?"
"Um, well…"
The vampire watched him for a long pause, making him bite his lip nervously. "I see. Svea did mention that you… had a relapse. So you have decided to forego your magic classes."
"Uh, yeah, actually."
Rivehn nodded. "Very well. I will see you in tomorrow's class," the vampire intoned, giving Cyrus a look that communicated that the human had better be in his class tomorrow.
"Yes…" Cyrus watched the vampire walk away, mind in a whirlwind of thoughts. When his eyes had the audacity to slide downward, he checked himself and turned back around. Why the hell did he have to find one of his teacher's attractive? He'd always made fun of those girls that had obsessed over Lockhart, and yet here he was, flustered after running into the vampire in a hallway.
Berating himself, he made his way back to his rooms. If he wasn't going to practice any magic today, he might as well stop moping and get something else done instead. Pulling out his magi-com, he started typing a text to Soterios.
oOo
He ended up studying some of the rarer runes texts he'd gotten his hands on recently while waiting for Soterios to get out of her last class of the day. A text to Tara a few hours ago had ensured that yes, she was willing to 'babysit' him while he went to the library to learn more runes Transfiguration, and now he was just waiting for her to show up so they could go.
And of course, she couldn't make an entrance like a normal person.
"BOO!"
Cyrus jumped and knocked the small table over in his surprise, eliciting a sadistic laugh from Tara.
"Gotcha! Now, you got everythin' you need? Hurry up. I've got a big project I gotta get finished, like, ASAP. Quick!"
Cyrus scowled at her and gathered his books together. "I'm going, I'm going. Chill." Stuffing the last book in his bag, he let out a yelp when Tara just grabbed him and dragged him into the shadow beside his bookcase.
When they fell out of the shadow, Cyrus nearly landed on his face but was saved from that fate by Tara, who literally started dragging him over to a table in the corner that was almost completely covered in books, papers, and scrolls. Cyrus caught sight of Soterios and waved to her before he was yanked behind an obstructing bookcase by Tara.
She grabbed him by the back of his neck and sat him down in one of the chairs near the edge of the table that wasn't covered with shit. "Sit. Stay," she ordered, going over to her seat and starting to write furiously. Cyrus stared at her for a moment, blankly, before turning to the empty seat across from him.
"Obsidian?"
Soterios's voice came from the side, so he turned his head to the left and smiled at her in greeting. "Hey Soterios. Sorry about… that. Did you already have a table picked out?"
She shrugged. "It's no problem, really," she said, placing her pile of books quietly down on the table and glancing at Tara.
Cyrus coughed. "Tara. This is my tutor, Soterios."
His friend glanced up from her books, an annoyed look on her face. An annoyed look that quickly melted and was replaced by an odd look that Cyrus couldn't quite label.
"Hello. Tara of Bast," she said succinctly, but not rudely, and from the intensity in which she was watching Soterios, it seemed like she was looking for something…
His tutor just blinked, completely unfazed. "Good afternoon. Symphennia Soterios of Akkad."
Tara's eyes narrowed. "Akkad?"
Soterios looked annoyed. "Yes, that is my clan. I hope that won't be a problem for you, Bast." Her voice belied her face, however, and showed no disrespect whatsoever, just polite indifference.
Tara tilted her head to the side, examining Soterios with sharp eyes. "Well, with recent events I thought you might be the one having a problem with me."
His tutor's face relaxed. "No, I do not. I happen to think Dalesh deserved a worse fate than he suffered."
A slow, pleased smirk spread across Tara's lips. "Oh really? What should he have suffered?"
Soterios blinked languidly, face expressionless. "Things I dare not utter in such a public place."
Tara broke into laughter that she quickly stifled due to their environment. "Then you and me aren't gonna have a problem," she said with a grin. "I'm crazy busy today, but how's about you and I go to Shelby's Blood Bath sometime?"
Soterios blinked slowly and tilted her head slightly to one side. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
Tara grinned. "Good time, date, what's the difference?"
Soterios examined her for a few more moments before inclining her head. "Very well. I accept."
Tara's grin widened just the slightest bit. "Great. I'll get your number off Cyrus and text you later tonight."
The human looked back and forth between the two, flabbergasted as they turned back to their work without another word or glance.
"What would you like to cover tonight, Obsidian?" Soterios asked professionally, pulling out her books and some notes.
Cyrus blinked. "Uh… how about whatever it is Kyrtrij's doing to try to disprove Balt. What's with that, exactly?"
Soterios smiled. "Kyrtrij was a student of Balt's around fifty years ago. Since she left Balt's tutelage, she's been doing her utmost to disprove every one of his theories, and she's actually succeeded with many of them. Well, it's a little more complicated than that. You see, it's been arguable that magic is sentient, and depending on the desire and beliefs of the user, you can achieve many things. Kyrtrij's disbelief was so strong that she actually broke some of Balt's rules if you are familiar with the theory that drives Transfiguration. It's interesting, because if you cast a Kyrtrij spell and then a Balt spell, both work. However, if you try to put them together, they're so fundamentally different that they cause very… odd mistakes. And sometimes explosions."
Cyrus's eyes widened.
"You could say their theories do well to reflect their own personal difficulties with one another, which is only proof of the amazing things magic is capable of if you believe, with absolute certainty, that you are right…"
Soterios continued on a similar tangent for quite some time before asking him if he had any specific questions or problems that she could help him with. He pulled out some of his old homework that Rivehn had marked ages ago and went through the mistakes he'd made with her. Some of them, he realized what he was doing wrong right away, but others it took Soterios many different explanations and diagrams on scrap paper before he began to understand.
Of course, like many things, once they got into it the time passed even faster than they realized, until Tara was reminding them that dinner was almost over and they'd have to leave soon if they wanted anything to eat. Hastily, Cyrus paid Soterios for the two hours she'd spent helping him before quickly packing up his things. Tara was far less rushed than him, as she'd already started packing away her books, papers, and scrolls some time ago. Apparently she'd finished whatever project she was freaking out about, because she'd spent the last ten minutes Soterios had been there staring at the other vampire.
"You're so slow, Cyrus," she prodded with a smirk, shrinking her bag and slipping it into her pocket. "At this rate there'll only be leftovers."
Cyrus glared at her. "I'm coming. Chill." Shrinking his own bag, he put it in his pocket too and followed the chipper, bouncy vampire out of the library. Was Tara really in that good of a mood after getting a date? It wasn't like she knew Soterios all that well.
They were walking past a door that led to one of the courtyards when Tara froze and slammed a hand on Cyrus's shoulder, holding him in place. Freaked out, he glanced around them to try to see what it was she was sensing, but couldn't find it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, Tara was yanking him forward and flinging him behind her as she turned around to look behind them. Her massive, rune-covered sword appeared out of nowhere and with a flash of silver, Cyrus heard a swish, gurgle, and thunk. When his brain finally absorbed enough of the vampire-quick motions, he saw a body on the ground with its arm cut off.
A body that was getting back up, slowly, as if – he – was unaware of his arm being cut off. An arm that wasn't bleeding.
Cyrus's eyes widened and he cursed viciously under his breath. "Tara, it's a zombie! You're going to have to burn it!"
But Tara was already moving, having obviously figured it out before Cyrus. Her sword lit on fire with a whoosh, and three flashes of lightning-quick movement later, the zombie had been reduced to a burning blob of goo on Shikaan's black marble floors.
Tara covered her nose with one hand, grimacing. "Stay focused, Cyrus. The smell of burning flesh is fucking up my nose. I can't tell if there are any more of them."
Nervously, Cyrus pulled out one of his daggers, wishing he had a sword like Tara did. Unfortunately, they weren't starting weapons for a while yet in Weapons and Battle class. If his magic wasn't so fucked up, he could have sensed the zombies easily, but as it was… it would be incredibly stupid to try to use any death magic when he didn't have his natural magic acting as a buffer between his continued life and a very pathetic death.
Tara moved faster than his eyes could see, and the next thing he knew there was another burning corpse on the ground. Resisting the urge to cover his nose, he tried to figure out where they were coming from. The most obvious location had been the way outside, but the door hadn't opened once. So where were they coming from?
Something grabbed him from behind, and Cyrus saw Tara's eyes widen just as a set of teeth sank into his neck. Fuck. Reacting instinctively to the threat, his death magic bubbled to the surface and seized the zombie behind him. The sheer power of it overrode the necromancer's tenuous control, and then it was Cyrus's zombie. Snatching that string of power that was slipping away, having been cut, he followed it back to its source and tried to locate the necromancer.
His connection to the power was cut as the necromancer's power surged chaotically for a moment before disappearing entirely. Cursing under his breath, he felt around for any other zombies in the area and commanded them to come into the light.
They were shrunken, on the floor, hiding behind one of the many statues riddling Shikaan hallways. Cyrus watched in a strange haze as Tara lit them all on fire with her sword. He felt… odd. Like… like his skin was too tight. But… he was burning up inside. His mind jerked to a stop for a moment before he remembered that he had been bitten by a zombie.
And Tara was right in front of him, shaking him. But her eyes were gray. How odd. He blinked slowly, frowning, trying to focus.
A hand grabbed him, and next he knew was darkness and a swimming sensation before light exploded in front of his eyes again. Except, everything was in black and white. He saw Svea coming towards him, and blinked slowly as a foreign power began to seep into his skin. His mind shuddered for a moment, and magic tried to deny the power entrance, but then his reasoning kicked in. This was Svea. A Healer.
The burning in his neck began to fade, and slowly color splashed across his vision again. Tara's eyes were red, Svea was dressed in muted greens, and…
The room swam, and Cyrus put his hands out on the bed he – When had he sat down? – was sitting on, trying to find balance. Except his hands encountered a sold reality, and the room was still spinning. Closing his eyes, he focused on another sense instead.
"-us right now! We need you to focus, Cyrus. Hello? Anybody in there!"
Cyrus tilted his head to one side. Tara.
"Obsidian. You need to force your death magic back into your core. I have healed the inferius bite that was infecting your mind, but with your natural magic levels so low, this is incredibly dangerous. Please cease using your death magic immediately."
Cyrus frowned. He was using his death magic? Turning his attention inward, he noticed his death magic had indeed filled his channels and forced his little-recovered magic back to its core.
Shit.
Taking a hold of the energy running happily through his channels, he tried to force it back down, back under his core where it wouldn't cause any problems.
But it refused to go. It wasn't only refusing, it was beginning to buck under his control. Cussing under his breath, he let it go and watched warily as the beast curled and churned unhappily through his channels.
He'd heard horror stories about necromancer's whose death magic went out of their control and slowly melted them from the inside, or turned them into zombies, or made them explode in a spray of blood, gore, and death that created more zombies that spread and killed people which created more zombies and-
A hand struck him across the cheek, and Cyrus opened his eyes and blinked blearily to see Tara crouching in front of him, a fearful glint to her eyes but lips pursed and brows furrowed stubbornly.
"Snap out of whatever shit's going through your head, Cyrus, because it's not helping! Now. You have to get your death magic under control, or do something to get rid of it, because Svea can't get a hold of Yankovich right now."
The human blinked and licked his dry lips. "'Kay," he croaked, trying to think of all the safety measures Yankovich had ever drilled into their heads during class. He could probably contain an explosion with a shitload of salt- no, the situation wasn't that far gone yet. Let's see… overload of death magic… usually recommended that the necromancer channels the death magic into something else, whether it be a large raising – no that wasn't a good idea – or the earth itself – channeling into the earth without the necessary understanding and connection with it was often disastrous – or into a physical ob… ject… His eyes widened. The Linmeyelle!
Grabbing the bag attached to his waist, he quickly opened it and stuck his arm inside, searching for a cool, round stone. He bit his lip nervously as he felt the death magic buckle under his skin again, scratching painfully at his channels in an attempt to get out. Just when he was beginning to despair, his fingers encountered cold smoothness, and he yanked the rock out of the bottomless bag and started channeling the death magic into it.
Thankfully, energy wasn't smart enough to realize when it was trading one cage for another, because it happily moved through the channels he'd opened in his hand, escaping his body. He kept channeling into the Linmeyelle until his death magic was equal to that of his natural magic (that is to say, nearly non-existent), and only then did he finally stop and relax his grip on the black stone.
That was close. His insides still itched from where the death magic had been clawing at him.
"Got everything under control now?" Tara asked cautiously, staring at him like he was going to explode at any second.
Which had been true a minute ago.
"Yeah," Cyrus croaked, cradling the Linmeyelle in his hand and trying not to think of all the things that could have gonewrong – oh so wrong.
"Well done, Mr. Obsidian," Svea said, calm as he'd ever been. He'd never panicked, Cyrus realized now that he was actually in the right state of mind again. Yes, he'd been persistent and concerned, but he'd been calm. The human swallowed. Maybe he had been ready to kill Cyrus and let the magic bleed into death along with his soul if necessary.
Actually, that was something he didn't want to think about again.
"Thanks for your help," he said to Svea. Or at least, he tried to, but his throat croaked, so he had to clear it and try again.
The elf inclined his head and went back to what appeared to be another patient with… her… okay, that was nasty. He could see why she'd gone to Svea instead of trying to fix it herself.
Tara had her arms crossed over her chest. "I run into more life and death situations just living in proximity to you, I hope you realize. If I suffer Death-By-Cyrus one of these days, I'm going to come back from the dead and haunt you for eternity."
Cyrus grimaced. "Sorry."
She rolled her eyes and let out an explosive sigh. "'Sorry', he says. I swear, there ain't another person like you in this school, human or other." She snorted and laughed.
Cyrus frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She grinned. "The fact that you need to ask that just proves my point, y'know."
The human frowned and got off the bed to follow her out of the healing ward. "What's that supposed to mean?!"
Tara just laughed.
oOo
When they got back to Cyrus's rooms, Ashawyn was sitting on his bed waiting for him. Tara didn't even enter the room, telling Cyrus to phone her if he needed anything before shutting the door in his face and leaving him to his doom.
Hesitantly, the human turned around to look at Ashawyn. The fae had been… taciturn the morning after they had sex. He wasn't sure if it was because he was bad, his illness had sucked the magic out of the ice fae, or something else, so he had basically pushed it out of his mind until he was forced to deal with it.
Like now.
"We need to talk."
Ah fuck. Cyrus coughed and went to his kitchen to get himself a glass of water. "What about?" he asked after a moment, trying to sound like he didn't know why Ashawyn was there, and he didn't really, but yeah.
"About this weekend."
Cyrus swallowed the water and stared stubbornly out his kitchen window. "Yeah?"
"You've been avoiding me. What's the problem? You didn't say you were contagious, so why are you avoiding me like the plague? I've sent you half a dozen text messages."
"Contag- no! No, I'm not contagious or anything."
"Then what's the problem? You didn't have a good time? Are you… regretting it now that you're thinking with your head again?"
Cyrus swallowed another gulp of water. "No, I'm not regretting it. I just… thought you might be. After I… ate your magic and everything. I mean, that's not exactly something that normally happens when you… have sex." He could feel a blush warm his cheeks.
A chuckle sounded from right behind him, and Cyrus turned around in surprise to see Ashawyn not two feet from him. "I'm sorry abou-"
Ashawyn shut him up with a kiss. When that cool tongue ran over his lips, he opened his mouth to allow entrance, sighing into it and wondering if it was his last. Sadly, after less than a minute, it was over and Ashawyn pulled away with a small smile. "Don't worry about that." When Cyrus stared up at him, flushed, the fae licked his lips and looked down. "You don't even realize how sexy you are…" The fae sighed. "I wish I could fuck you into the mattress right now," he said, bringing a hot flush of embarrassment to Cyrus's lips, "but I'm kind of here for two reasons, and I have to leave soon."
The human frowned as Ashawyn pulled away and leaned against the doorframe into the kitchen. "Yeah? What's the other reason?"
Ashawyn smiled sheepishly. "Well, see, there's this project that I'm working on for my apprenticeship to Mikhail, and I thought I had everything planned out nicely, but when I went to him to double check he told me flatly that there is no way the necromancer I picked to help me power the project was powerful enough. And you're the only necromancer besides Shaena that I know can do it. Will you help me?" he asked, icy blue eyes pleading.
Cyrus frowned. "What kind of project?"
"Well, it's to prove to Mikhail that I can work with other necromancers as the head of the raising instead of a passive channeler. It's one of the many things I have to do before Mikhail will approve me to apply for my Adept."
"What's an Adept?"
"The level before your mastery. I could apply for a Journeyman level, but that doesn't really mean anything if you try to apply for a job or get work as a necromancer. Journeymen generally have quite spotty training, so it's not a very good assessment of your skills." When Cyrus was hesitant, he pouted out his lower lip and turned from kissable from downright fuckable. "Please?" he asked.
The human rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll do it."
Ashawyn grinned and swooped him into a kiss, plundering his mouth for a long, sensual minute before pulling away. "Great," he panted against Cyrus's lips, eyes sparkling with pleasure. "I'll pick you up for dinner this Friday?"
Cyrus forced his brain to work again. "Uh, yeah. Sure. When's this project anyway?"
"It's not for another three weeks. And it's on the weekend, so you won't miss any school."
"Alright then…"
"Great! I'll see you later." He gave Cyrus another short kiss before pulling away and vanishing in a burst of frost, leaving the human in his half-hard state. Damnit. He was going to need a cold shower.
oOo
Cyrus never did figure out who had tried to kill him that week. Even after Tara and he returned to the scene of the crime, all they had discovered is that someone cared enough to make sure all the evidence of the incident had disappeared. Tara had been pissed, and grumbled about wishing she had the money to hire a magic tracker to 'pin that fucker's ass down'. When Cyrus had asked her how much it would cost, she had just shook her head. Apparently, even though she knew that he had money, it was still ridiculously expensive, and it might not even work with all the ambient magical energy floating around Shikaan muddying the trail.
So Cyrus had shoved it into the back of his mind, along with the other assassination attempt during the survival training weekend. He knew it was a necromancer now, at least. That was no coincidence. The question was, who would want to kill him? He'd gone through so much shit recently he couldn't remember if he'd insulted or angered anyone.
Well, besides Yankovich. But if Yankovich wanted him dead he wouldn't even notice the guillotine.
And then there were other incidents like Tara's Trial that had got his face and name out there, which just depressed him.
He let out a sigh, packing up his Runes texts just like everyone else in the class. The period had just ended, and he was absolutely famished. Not to mention looking forward to the day being over. He only had Necromancy left to suffer through and then he was free for the weekend! Ashawyn was going to take him out for dinner that night, and then after that he got to finish all his homework and study for a Runes test.
Joy.
His magic was almost completely recovered, too. Thank Merlin. Tara and Xanthir had stuck to him like glue after the zombie attack in the hallway, but there hadn't been any more incidents for the rest of the week. For the past three days he'd been able to go to classes that didn't require the use of magic, but he'd been skipping everything else. It was only today that he'd felt comfortable enough with his magic to go to them all again. Of course, he was going to be extra careful in Necromancy. He'd learned his lesson from Tuesday and now kept his Linmeyelle in its own bag on his utility belt, in case he needed to get his hands on it quickly.
He loved being able to cast most of the weaker spells in his repertoire again without them exploding spectacularly in his face. He finally felt somewhat safe in his own skin – a pleasant change from how edgy he'd been feeling ever since his illness had fucked him up last weekend.
Of course, it was probably because of his increased comfort that the problem he'd almost forgotten about reared its ugly head not ten feet from Rivehn's classroom door. One minute Cyrus was carrying on a conversation with Xanthir about their homework for the weekend, and then the next thing he knew Xanthir had pulled him to the side and was growling angrily behind him. Cyrus swung his head around just in time to see a flash of yellow light go by, an inch from his face.
Xanthir's hand on his shoulder, the hand that had wrenched him out of the way of the incoming curse, squeezed slightly in reassurance as he came face to face with his attacker.
"You Cyrus Obsidian?" the guy drawled slowly, his voice deceptively light in timbre. Murky green eyes watched him carefully. Besides this one stunning feature, there was nothing particularly interesting or unique about him… His gear was another story. Three knives and two guns visible, and who knew what else hidden inside various compartments on the out- and inside of his clothes.
"Yeah. I'm Obsidian," he answered in a level voice, neither speaking loudly enough to challenge nor quietly enough to appear weak.
"I thought so. Do you know who I am?"
Cyrus blinked. "I've seen you around before. Don't know your name, though."
A murmur, mixed with a few chuckles, passed through the crowd that was beginning to gather in the hallway.
Two brown eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really. You don't know who I am? And yet apparently you were going to challenge me to a fight to measure skills."
Cyrus frowned. "I have no intention of challenging anyone."
"Mhmm." The guy didn't sound convinced. "Of course you don't. But see, I have a reputation as Top Gun. I am the most powerful human student here, and I intend for it to stay that way. You understand me?" Troy Guylan, nicknamed Top Gun, took a few leisurely steps closer.
Cyrus glanced around at the crowd that was watching them expectantly. "I understand your position, yes."
Guylan stopped a few meters away, his thumbs hooked in his cargo pants in a relaxed manner, but Cyrus could see the muscles jumping in his forearms and how one of his fingers would caress the sheath of the blade at his waist. "Do you, now. I don't think you do. See, someone starts doubting my capabilities, I set them straight. When people start questioning me, I set the other guy straight, you got me?" When Cyrus just stared at him quietly, Guylan's lips bared in a mockery of a grin. "You're that other guy. How's about you and me settle this outside, hm? No reason to get Rivehn breathing down our necks for causing a ruckus outside his classroom."
Cyrus glanced to the side and saw that the vampire was indeed leaning in the doorway, a vaguely bored expression on his face. "How thoughtful of you," Rivehn drawled, voice silky and deadly.
"Come on, freshman. Let's go to the fields outside."
Cyrus didn't want to battle Guylan, but he knew that if he turned him down at that moment everyone would either think that he was a chicken shit, weak, or both. "Right. Lead the way," he said instead, strengthening the resolve inside him. He was outfitted in his full-body armor. Amazingly enough, it was thin enough to fit under all of his clothes, but still saved him from a butt load of bruising that morning in Weapons and Battle. He was impressed by the pervy old lady, to say the least. Even though her fetish for very precise measurements… irked him.
The fields were empty when they went out, which meant that either the class that normally used them was off with Welkins on another obstacle course or there was no class at all that period. Not everyone had lunch at the same time, after all. That Guylan had the same lunch period as him spoke of his Potter Luck at its best.
"Since I challenged, you get to pick the weapon or weapons."
Cyrus licked his lips and pulled Xanthir to the side, putting up a silencing ward. It held, thank Merlin. "Do you know his strengths or weaknesses? Anything at all that might give me an advantage?"
Xanthir rubbed the back of his hair. "I dunno, Cy, that's sort of Tara's territory… but from what I do know, he's great with guns and knives, and… Well, he's farther ahead of us in Weapons and Battle, so he's prob'ly trained in some other weapons and good at hand-to-hand. Um… can't think of anything else, sorry. Normally, magic'd be your best bet, but… are you, you know… alright?"
Cyrus grimaced. "Mostly. Things still blow up in my face when I least expect it, though. It's quite… irritating. I wish Tara had left me some words of wisdom when she came warning me about this on Monday. Fuck."
Xanthir grinned slightly, flashing teeth. Already his eyes were beginning to change from amber to bright gold. "I'm sure you'll do some damage. If he gets ya hard, though, I'll getcha to Svea real quick."
Cyrus fingered his death stick thoughtfully, pondering his options. Magical duel: he might win. However, if it was purely magical and his magic decided to take a hike, he'd be fucked. Second option: physical battle. But when he compared his own lithe body with big and broad bronco over there, he fell quite short, and he wasn't skilled enough to pick up the slack.
So, either way, he'd probably lose. The question was, did he want to lose with broken bones or looking like a fool?
Letting out a breath, he snapped his wands into his hands. Wand magic would be less likely to explode on him when his magic was still being fussy, and using wands would make Guylan underestimate him. He just hoped that using his death stick didn't cause any problems in the long run.
Making his decision, he met Guylan's eyes head on, mouth set in a determined, stubborn line. "I choose a duel. Magic and physical combat… no directly wielded weapons. No poisons or other shit," he said, walking forward.
Guylan seemed surprised for a second before he grinned. "Deal. I'm surprised you'd pick physical combat at all, considering how I've strengthened my body with rituals." When Cyrus's eyes widened, he smirked. "Ah, you didn't know that, did you. Too late. You lose upon forfeit, loss of consciousness, death… you get the drift. Ready?" Cyrus slipped into a defensive position, even more wary than he was before. "Alright. You with the orange hair! Count down from three."
There was a pause, but Cyrus didn't take his eyes of Guylan. Eventually, Xanthir started the countdown. "Three… two… one… go!"
Unlike ten minutes prior, Cyrus didn't make the same mistake twice. As soon as Xanthir had started counting down, he had extended his magical senses and felt the spell ready to come in his direction. He dodged it with a smooth motion, sending his own curse flying in response as he tried to formulate a plan. He'd noticed an improvement in his magical sensitivity after recovering from his illness, and he wasn't sure if it was because the illness had something to do with it or because he had only noticed after not having his magic for nearly a week. Either way, it was proving to be invaluable in this duel, as Guylan proved his experience as a senior student of Shikaan and used many dirty tactics and strategies to try to land a spell on Cyrus.
But Cyrus was no pushover. While he couldn't use his full reservoir of magic at that point, he could still pop off rather powerful and normally tiring spells faster than the average wizard. Dodging another curse, he started analyzing his opponent as they were taught to in class. From the look of things, Guylan was probably a heavy hitter rather than a stealth type, which evened the odds.
Because Cyrus was a heavier hitter.
Pushing the largest amount of magic he felt comfortable with into his wands, he cast simultaneous explosive hexes, the phoenix wand aiming slightly to Guylan's left, while the death stick aimed at the ground where Guylan would be moving to.
Thankfully, he had calculated the trajectory right. The two spells crossed paths, looking like one spell with the phoenix hex leading the way, but just as Guylan dodged to the side to avoid it… the second one crashed into the ground at his feet and sent him flying backwards.
Unfortunately, he hadn't noticed Guylan's own spell, which shot out of the dust cloud and clipped him on the arm. Swearing under his breath, he tried to figure out what the curse was to no use. Not liking the way his left hand was slowly turning purple and swelling underneath his armor, he cast a bubble shield around himself with his right wand and closed his eyes, activating his rune sight.
Dismantling curses with rune sight was difficult and dangerous. If you didn't cut the right points of the spell at the exact same time, the curse could go rogue and complete half of its function, which usually resulted in something disgusting, deadly, or explosive. And not necessarily in that order.
Fortunately, he recognized the basic format of the curse even though he didn't have the time to read all of the runes to figure out what it was doing to him. Doing the mental 'snip' in three places simultaneously, he didn't bother waiting to watch it fall apart. Deactivating his rune sight, he opened his eyes to see Guylan was throwing quite a few nasty curses at his bubble shield. Thankfully, he hadn't used Avada Kedavra, the only spell it couldn't reflect. Either he wasn't that much of an asshole, he hadn't thought of it, or he didn't have the power and intent to cast it.
Cyrus didn't really care. He was just glad his left arm hadn't exploded like a rotten eggplant. Keeping the bubble shield up with his phoenix wand, he slipped the tip of his death stick past the barrier and started casting reducto after reducto. For that particular offensive spell, one didn't need to move the wand, so it was quite easy for anyone with a shitload of magic to pop it off one after another with little strain.
Which is exactly what he did. Using his magic sensitivity to hone in on the other human, he kept sending volley after volley of the spell, hoping at least one would hit or they would tire his opponent out.
Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. The ground exploded out from under him, and he cursed loudly as his bubble shield was forced into the air and he lost balance and focus. The shield dissolved, but instead of staying there to get skewered, Cyrus apparated to his room for a second. Taking in a deep breath, he apparated back to where he'd just been, hoping the second delay would make Guylan think he had tried to get behind him.
And the human had thought that, which let Cyrus get off a particularly dark curse he'd been meaning to cast on someone he was exceptionally pissed at.
It hit Guylan in the back, as he'd apparated silently as well as cast silently, and Cyrus grimaced at the sight of skin slowly turning inside out. It was quite… bloody.
"Bastard!" Guylan screamed, fumbling for a few painful-looking moments before he managed to counter the curse. What must have been extreme pain left the older human panting for breath as he glared angrily.
"That's what you get for fucking with Cyrus Obsidian, asswipe," a familiar voice called out.
Cyrus's head snapped around just as Guylan's did, and caught sight of Tara watching from the sidelines.
"Ah, Bast. So wonderful to see you again. I see you haven't gotten any taller," Guylan sneered, standing upright instead of hunched over in pain. Cyrus could still see the tell-tale shakes of his hands, though.
Tara's eyes narrowed. "Really. Going for digs on my height? Your skill with insults hasn't improved at all."
Guylan glared at her. "And your… personality hasn't gotten any better. Still having trouble replacing that girlfriend of yours?"
Cyrus grimaced as Tara's expression went glacial.
"Careful, Guylan," Tara intoned dangerously, "or you might find yourself missing what makes you a man in the morning."
Guylan frowned. "You touch my guns, Bast, and I don't care if you're a girl. I'll-"
"The fact that you weigh guns above your testicles or dick on the scale of masculinity really doesn't do much for your already… undersized reputation."
Some members of the audience snorted or burst into fits of laughter at that comment, and after a few moments of incomprehension from Guylan, his face turned red with rage. "You bitch!"
Tara shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes still held a murderous glint. "Just stating a fact, Guylan. It's not my fault you're on steroids."
At this, a couple people with familiarity with the muggle world started laughing while the majority just looked confused. Cyrus himself was grinning his ass off, using Guylan's distraction as a good opportunity to go invisible. The human didn't notice.
"What the fuck are steroids?" Guylan asked, blusteringly.
"Steroids are a muggle chemical that enhances muscular growth, basically, while shrinking your dick. In short, some people think that, due to your extensive self-modifications through rituals, your ittle 'bits' might have shrunk. Thus, not many girls wanting to fuck you. And for the record, I know for a fact that you haven't gotten laid in a good month, while I certainly haven't had that problem. Guess that means I'm more 'monstrous' in bed than you are."
Guylan stared. "Are you saying you have a bigger dick than me?"
Tara rolled her eyes. "If I need to spell it out for you. YES."
Guylan was just about to retort when instead he spun around and aimed a kick at Cyrus's face. Nearly cursing aloud, he dodged the attack and cast an invisible, silent flaying curse just as another spell hit him and disrupted his stealth charms. Cursing out loud, he backpedalled as Guylan dismissed his flaying curse with a smirk and came running at him. The next thing Cyrus knew, Guylan was a foot from his face and looking far too pleased.
Reacting on instinct, since Guylan was already inside his guard, he cast a reducto from the channels in his chest.
The point-blank explosion sent Cyrus flying backwards through the air as well, since Guylan had apparently had a shield up. Luckily, it sent him flying just far enough avoid a particularly nasty Dark spell Guylan was trying to curse him with. Apparently his Potter Luck was still working; he was unlucky enough to get his ass into this situation, but lucky enough to prevent it from getting burnt extra crispy.
Casting multiple smoke screen spells, he 'felt' for where Guylan was supposed to be and made his way closer, crouching low to the ground with silencing spells covering his boots. He got within two meters of the guy before a wind blew his smoke away and he had to cast. As it wasn't pointblank, Guylan got off another shield just in time. Before Cyrus could recover and put some distance between them, an arm shot out and smacked his arm before he could even flinch. His Phoenix wand went flying from his numb fingers, and he reached for it with his wandless magic instinctively.
Boom.
The concussive force of the blast sent him flying to the left, thankfully throwing him clear of the full on attack Guylan had been about to unleash and throwing the other human off at the same time. Rolling with the kinetic force, Cyrus cursed his magical issues and tried to find his wand, desperately hoping it had been thrown far enough from Guylan's attack that it hadn't been incinerated. He caught sight of it for a moment before a blasting hex had him spinning through the air again. When the fuck had Guylan had time to remove the flaying curse?!
Hitting the ground hard, he rolled for a few meters before coming to a stop. Feeling a sharp pain in his left arm, he swore under his breath and pushed himself to his knees with his right arm. His armor had taken most of the damage from the spell, since it was a physical spell and not something more abstract, but unfortunately it didn't stop his arm from hitting the ground wrong and cracking under the force of it.
Guylan was just standing there, watching him with a blank expression. Why hadn't he taken advantage of Cyrus's weakness and attacked? Did he want to prolong the agony or something? "You going to heal that arm of yours? I hear you're rather good with wandless magic, though that last explosion would say otherwise," he said, showing that he held Cyrus's phoenix wand in his left hand. "Unless it was planned. You completely had me fooled. Thought you were going for the wand."
I was going for the wand, you ass. "Uh, thanks," he mumbled, cursing softly under his breath. He did not want to try healing his arm and blow it off by accident. Grimacing, he snapped it back into place, setting it the best he could and sending healing energy into it.
"Well? I'm giving you time to heal it. Why don't you?"
Cyrus kept his expression carefully blank. "What can I say? I like pain." Was Guylan stupid? If he'd ever taken first year Healing he would know that healing a bone properly so it wouldn't break again like a twig took a good minute as well as a hell of a lot of concentration. Something Cyrus didn't have a lot of at that moment.
Now Guylan was frowning. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he called out mockingly. "If I'd known you were this pathetic, I wouldn't have bothered. I might as well snap your wand, for all the good it's doing you. You're a disgrace to wizardkind!"
Cyrus's vision turned red, magic roiling under his skin with his anger. He'd worked fucking hard to get his hands on that phoenix feather, and if this stupid, irritating, goddamned prick damaged it anyway he was going to find his body slowly decomposing from death magic poisoning. Fucker.
Reacting without thought, Cyrus disapparated and reappeared in front of Guylan. Before the upperclassman could react, he had channeled his magic through the hand he'd placed on the human's chest. The explosion sent Guylan flying back and the wand into the air. Moving as fast as his body would allow, he tried to snatch it only to be tackled. Body moving on autopilot, he twisted in midair to hit the ground on his back and roll with the motion, kicking his assailant over him. He got to his feet just in time to parry a series of attacks that were so fast he could barely react to them, let alone block them all with one hand. Pointing his death stick at Guylan's chest, he sent out a blast of pure magic that sent the human flying backwards. Finally. Some breathing space.
The smirk on Guylan's face was his only warning, and the next thing he knew a rope was wrapping itself around his neck. Choking as his air was cut off, he tried to cut if off with a dagger and couldn't get the angle right. Swearing, he lit the ropes on fire and ignored the way his skin seared. He could heal it later. Putting on a burst of speed he hadn't realized he was capable of, he ran backwards and sent multiple curses Guylan's way.
The other human was faster, catching up to him at close range and swiping his hand at Cyrus's neck. A hand that had grown three-inch long nails since he'd last seen it. Cussing, he bent backwards, spine straining under the force of the movement, in order to avoid getting his throat ripped out.
That bastard! Turning his own body parts into weapons to get out of the wording of the duel… Before Cyrus could say anything, however, Guylan was flying at him again, landing a few punches that Cyrus could feel even through his armor. Unable to follow the speed of the attacks, he put his right hand in front of him and channeled a concussive force of magic.
The resulting explosion singed his hand and left his internal channels burning, making him grimace painfully. He needed his phoenix wand back. Muttering accio under his breath, he was unprepared for the punch that landed on his face, cracked his jaw, and sent him flying to one side.
His phoenix wand landed itself in right hand, though, and his left was already flicking out the movements for a curse though, without his conscious thought. He'd had the shit been out of him so many times in Weapons and Battle and during training sessions with Xanthir that a lot of things had become so instinctive he'd almost gravely wounded his opponents more than once. Of course, that was the danger of being a Shikaan student.
The spell finished, but no light came out of the end of his wand even as he felt the power of the spell leave it and hone in on Guylan's magical signature. Dark spells were interesting that way. One of the reasons why they were labeled dark was because of the necessary intent behind them.
This spell in particular required that you desire your enemy undeserving harm.
Guylan screamed like a girl as millions of flesh eating ants came into existence under his skin, slowly chewing away at the muscles and ligaments and nerves. It avoided the brain, as most Dark spells did, in order to make the victim suffer the longest.
Cyrus's victory was short-lived, however, when Guylan shouted the counter curse before collapsing to the ground in pain. The damage to his physical body was extensive, however. He'd likely need Svea to heal him.
But apparently Guylan was just as stubborn as Cyrus was, because he stood up despite the pain and glared at him with utmost hatred in his eyes.
It wasn't like Cyrus had been the one who wanted this duel. Asshole.
And then his feet started glowing, and Cyrus frowned and looked down at the ground. His eyes widened at the array of… of… something that was written all over the dirt. Why hadn't he seen it before?! He caught some runes in the design, but for the most part it seemed to be like something out of a bad muggle voodoo movie.
Guylan started chanting, and Cyrus tried to disapparate to no avail. Looking for the edge of the circle, he tried to get out of it, but soon encountered a wall of power that no amount of pounding would let him out of. Starting to panic, he let his magic escape his body and started slamming against the force shield.
It was too unfamiliar. He had no idea what this fucking spell was, and it wasn't responding to magical force at all. Activating his rune sight, he tried to find something to tear, but there was none.
FUCK.
He had no experience with this shit. What was he supposed to do?! What the fuck was it even?! What if it ripped his soul out of his body or sucked all the oxygen out of the circle or turned him to stone or-
Fear clawing its way past his pounding heart and up his throat, he grasped at his instincts, for anything that he could do to-
His death magic surged up from under his core like a basilisk, slithering through his channels and expelling the magic already inside them outward in an explosion of power and colorful lights. Feeling that same kind of connection as he had when he'd raised the basilisk and felt all the dead rats in the entire castle, he focused on the weird spell at his feet and pointed his death magic at it, telling it to 'eat'.
And it did. The basilisk of death magic sank into the ground with single-minded intensity, and Cyrus could hear high-pitched screaming on the wind as it consumed and killed the life in soil, the life in the grass, and lastly the life in the magic itself.
And then it tried to turn to other delicious things.
Reining it in with a stubborn grip, he was totally unprepared for the way it bucked and nearly threw him off entirely. Slipping his hand into one of the pouches on his belt, he pulled out the Linmeyelle and started forcing the death magic into it. It was stubborn, at first, but eventually bowed to his will. It probably helped that the stone was designed to conduct death magic, and therefore attracted it like a magnet.
He let out a breath of relief when the power was drained back to manageable levels.
"OBSIDIAN!!"
And then grimaced and internally groaned at the familiar, infuriated voice of Yankovich. Just great. The last thing he needed. A moment later, a knee connected with his ribs and he gasped and bent over as the breath was sucked out of him and his ribs bruised. As he hadn't been prepared for the assault, he hadn't tensed his abdomen.
"What the FUCK were you doing, using death magic when you're fucking SICK! Are you an IMBECILE?! Are you TRYING to get me to kill you?!"
Cyrus forced himself upright and gasped, "No, sir,"
If it was possible, Yankovich got even angrier. The human didn't think he'd ever seen Yankovich this angry. Thankfully, when it appeared as though the demon was going to kick him again, a diminutive little man – with red skin – put his leg in the way and spoke to Yankovich sternly in what Cyrus recognized as the demon language. Cautiously, he looked back and forth between the rapid-fire conversation, not even trying to pick anything up. Instead he watched their faces. Yankovich appeared to be getting even angrier, looking at the short man like he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. Finally, the conversation came to a pause, with Yankovich looking at the short man with an unreadable expression when the old guy got in the last word.
Yankovich said a few words in the demon language before barking out, "Obsidian! We're taking this little talk about your lack of sensibility to my office. Get up!"
Cyrus stared. What about the fight? "But-"
"Stop your whining. I'm in no condition to walk at this moment, but you don't see me bitching," the demon growled, grabbing the human by his shoulders. The expression that twisted his teacher's face for a moment almost seemed like a grimace, but before Cyrus could really get a good look it had been smoothed away into nothing. Yankovich looked at the little old red man expectantly, and the stranger put his hand on the demon's arm.
As they disappeared into shadow, he had a feeling he was up for a very long, painful lecture. Maybe he'd get bonus points for having a Linmeyelle.
oOo
Yankovich ignored Cyrus as soon as they arrived in favor of talking to the little old man. The human wasn't sure whether he was glad the demon had interrupted the duel before it could continue, or upset that he no longer had the chance to make a comeback and kick Guylan's ass. Not that he was sure he would have been able to beat the older, more experienced student anyway. He'd like to think it could happen, but after that last freaky spell, he wasn't sure the battle would have turned in his favor. A small part of him wished that Guylan would continue the challenge another time, when he was at full strength, but the majority of his common sense was saying it was a bad idea.
Sitting on the demon's rather comfy couch, Cyrus watched the exchange between tall shadow demon and short little man. From what he could tell of their interactions, the little guy definitely had Yankovich's respect. He'd never seen the demon concede or surrender, or whatever it was he was doing to the little guy, because he couldn't understand a word coming out of their mouths.
He really needed to learn some Other Realm languages.
"Obsidian."
The human raised his head from where he'd been fiddling with the hem of his torn and bloodied shirt. Yankovich was looking at him wearily now, less angry, but still irked as hell. Cyrus could tell because of the way his tail twitched irritably behind him, and the way his eyes flashed intensely at him.
"Yes, sir?" he asked meekly, looking back and forth between his professor and the red guy with him.
"Explain to me why it is you were fighting with another student. Especially when you are not fully recovered from your illness," the demon bit out through gritted teeth, and Cyrus had the feeling the little man's presence had tempered Yankovich's anger.
"It's not like I wanted to fight him, you know," Cyrus muttered.
"Really." Yankovich didn't look convinced in the least. "Then why the hell did you agree to it?"
Cyrus looked away. "He wouldn't have just let me walk away, and I didn't want to advertise to everyone that I'm only just recovering with someone out to kill me."
Yankovich's eyebrows rose. "I seriously doubt someone is trying to kill you, Obsidian."
Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "During survival training someone sabotaged a clean water source nearby me, set zombies after me, and then later tried to blow poison into my cave! Just two days ago I was attacked again by a fu- bloody zombie in the hallway! I think it's safe to say someone's trying to kill me! So thanks for broadcasting to the entire class that I'm-"
Before he even saw the demon move, Yankovich had slammed him into the wall behind the couch. Cyrus's head smarted with the impact. "Don't. You. Dare take that tone with me," he said quietly, sapphire eyes drilling into Cyrus's own with an intensity that had all the hairs on his arms practically jumping off his skin.
He swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir," he choked out.
Yankovich held him there for a moment before letting go. The human slid down the wall and fell back onto the couch. "Good. Now, I have every right to be furious with you, Obsidian, and don't argue. You purposely let yourself fall into a situation where your death magic could go out of control and kill dozens of people, after it already went out of control once this week. You need to be more responsible! You have the equivalent of a bomb sleeping inside you, and if you aren't careful, you're going to set it off and kill thousands of people! It is my job as Necromancy teacher at this school, and as a member of the Necromancer's Guild, to ensure that you are not a danger, do you understand?" The demon was utterly, deathly serious.
Cyrus swallowed nervously and looked down at his fingers in a mixture of fear and resentment. Right, because Yankovich had done sooo much to help him learn control. 'Make a fly dance,' his internal voice mocked him.
"How did you prevent yourself from self-destructing this time? And last time, for that matter."
Cyrus reached into his pocket and pulled out the black stone that he'd poured his magic into.
Both Yankovich and the little man's eyebrows rose. "Where the hell did you get a Linmeyelle?"
Cyrus stared stubbornly back at Yankovich. "Bought it."
"How do you even know they exist?" the demon asked incredulously. Cyrus wasn't sure whether he thought Cyrus couldn't afford it, or he thought Cyrus was just stupid.
"…Mikhail. He has some. He let me try draining some of my power into his and it helped my con-"
"You what?"
Cyrus blinked and couldn't stop his head from automatically recoiling in the face of Yankovich's ire. The intensity in those sapphire eyes was very… disconcerting. "Uh… I… drained some of my death magic into his Linmeyelle. Since it helped, I figured I'd buy one."
Yankovich and the little guy looked at each other and traded a few comments in demon language. Yankovich looked furious and the little man… was difficult to read.
Finally, after some snapped conversation, Yankovich turned back to Cyrus. He looked gravely serious. "Listen to me, Obsidian. Never. I mean never, give your power to anyone ever again unless you trust them with your life. Do you understand?"
Cyrus frowned. "What? Why?"
Yankovich's face was stone. "Giving your power away can be… dangerous. People can take advantage of it. Use it against you. Just… don't do it ever again, understand?"
Cyrus nodded slowly after a slight hesitation. "…Unless I trust them with my life."
"Yes." Yankovich crossed his arms over his chest and stared off to the side, his expression stormy yet unreadable. Why was the demon so… unnerved? Angry? "How has your training with the flies been going?"
Cyrus grimaced. "Not very well." When the demon just hummed thoughtfully, he couldn't help but get defensive. "I've been trying, honestly. I just… I try, and it doesn't work. And I keep trying, and it gets so frustrating."
The little man said something that brought a grin to his gnarly face and a scowl to Yankovich's. The demon snapped back, and the old man just let out a put-upon sigh and shook his head. After he spoke again, Yankovich snorted with a grin and said something back before turning back to Cyrus. "Well, I have good news for you. You are spending your study break studying with Gyrdrich, my former necromancy teacher." When the human's eyes bugged out in surprise, Yankovich's grin widened. "He has graciously offered you his time and expertise, and if you fail to gain a modicum of control during that week of training, you will be spending your entire summer with him as well. And however long after that it takes you to get your death magic under control." Cyrus wasn't sure what to think when he saw the look of sadistic pleasure on Yankovich's face.
His worry must have shown on his face, for the little man finally spoke for the first time in English. "Expect not full control in few weeks. Or months. Is slow process, learning control. But you will learn. If you are good student. Method I try with you is run before walk."
Cyrus blinked in confusion. What did that mean? "You… you'll teach me how to control my death magic?"
The gnarled little man's head jerked down once in brisk acknowledgement.
Yankovich pulled him out of his shocked thoughts. "If Mikhail offers extra lessons, refuse. Gyrdrich is a far better teacher, and Mikhail… only ever looks after his own best interest. If he tries to pressure you into anything, come to me immediately."
Cyrus frowned, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. Had this reaming out really just turned into… he had a personal teacher now? What? Did he have to pay or something? Offer his soul up as compensation? This was Yankovich, after all… "Uh… okay?"
Yankovich gave him an assessing look. "Good. I'll come get you some time next Friday evening. Probably after dinner…" He glanced at the little man who Cyrus now knew as Gyrdrich. "Make sure to pack food and a tent. He tends to like sleeping in the bush, and forgets that not all of us are fire demons and can warm ourselves up like- OW!"
Cyrus blinked as he watched Yankovich hop on one foot, gripping his shin and glaring at Gyrdrich. The little old man looked completely innocent, walking stick an inch to the right of where it had been a second ago. Cyrus couldn't stop his lips from twitching in amusement as he realized what had happened. Seeing the look Yankovich was sending his way, he wiped the smile off his face.
"Keep that Linmeyelle on you and don't get in any more fights until you're fully recovered, got it?" Yankovich barked, nursing his shin. "Go study or something," he muttered, waving his hand toward the door and looking quite irritable. Not wanting to get on the demon's bad side, the human quickly made his way to the door, ignoring the conversation that broke out behind him in demon language.
Closing the door behind him, he sighed. He had to survive another week at Shikaan before he could escape for a whole week. Though, escape probably wasn't the right word, considering he was now enlisted for extra necromancy training.
He wondered what the little old man would do differently than Yankovich as he headed back to his rooms.
oOo
Tara was waiting for him in his room when he returned. Apparently, according to Guylan, their fight wasn't over yet. As far as Cyrus was concerned, it was so over it was Jurassic. He had a date with his boyfriend that night, a Runes test next Friday, and a little hermit guy had conscripted him for a 'vacation' in the bush in only-gods-knew-where.
On top of that, he'd missed Necromancy, been told to avoid Mikhail (for what reason, he had no idea), and had promised aforementioned boyfriend that he would help him with a necromancy project that would inevitably lead to him being around Mikhail.
It had been a fucked up week, and he was glad beyond words that it was over.
-Toki Mirage-
I'd like you all to know that I was going to put another sex scene in Chapter 23, but then I had two thoughts: 'I'm already giving them 20,000 words of smutfic, they don't need to get cavities.' and 'Wait a minute, last time I put smut in a chapter, I got half the amount of reviews I normally do in that first week…' So guess what?
I cut it.
I realize it's irritating to go to another site for sex scenes, but I do it for the fans who aren't into gay sex. It's not like the five seconds it takes the majority of you to copy/paste a link kills you.
I was very disappointed last month after popping Cyrus's cherry, I gotta say. I moped for two weeks. Thanks to everyone who took the couple of seconds it took to return to your browser to share your thoughts, good and bad. I love you all. As for everyone else…
Well. I could threaten, but that's not exactly professional. So let my cut speak for itself.
R/Y SMUTFIC #2: http:// toki-mirage. livejournal. com /13354. html
IF YOU'D LIKE NOTIFICATION OF UPDATES, YOU CAN FIND ME ON FANFICTION.NET
- 22
- 23
- 24
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Bloody Skies