“Headed out?” Christian asked, glancing up from rummaging in the fridge for something that could pass for supper.
Mark leaned against the edge of the kitchen door, hands in the pockets of his black jeans, and nodded. “There’s a band playing tonight at the Millenium. I heard them before I moved here, the music’s decent. Covers of alt-rock, mainly.”
“Which one’s the Millenium?”
“Behind the big drugstore downtown. Around the corner from the mini-strip mall that’s all variations on fast food. It’s one of the better nightclubs. Less pretentious than the ones by the waterfront hotels that are all tourists and travelling businessmen, less sleazy than the ones in the north end, less of a meat-market than the ones closer to the university.” Mark tilted his head to one side. “Why? Do you want to come? You can if you want. You work Sunday but not tomorrow, right?”
“To a nightclub? Um... I don’t have much experience with them.”
Not none, just... not much. He’d been old enough to drink for over a year, and had gone out twice soon after his nineteenth birthday with a casual friend he’d been gaming with, but he’d quickly decided that it had little appeal. He wasn’t comfortable with strangers unless it was in small numbers, wasn’t comfortable feeling crowded and overwhelmed, and wasn’t comfortable trying to make friends under such conditions. Excessive alcohol could, potentially, lead to embarrassing difficulties with his gifts, but he couldn’t see the appeal even of lower quantities. The music had been loud enough to make his ears ring, and just shy of a new millenium, the space was still dense with unpleasant smoke, mixing with the smells of an awful lot of bodies; the combination had left him with a headache and a desperate desire for cool outside air and a long shower.
On the other hand, despite the careless phrasing, that invitation was distinctly startling, and he was reluctant to just turn it down.
Mark shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s not for everyone, and knowing you, I’m not surprised. Does it help if I remind you that I promised to protect you?”
“From extramundane threats,” Christian retorted. “Unless there’s another parasite around that you aren’t telling me about, that’s not relevant.”
Another shrug, and a grin. “If anything happens to you, I have to go back to wandering, and I’m enjoying actually having a stable place to live. So I have a vested interest in making sure you survive it. Nah, seriously, if you think you might like it, well, I’ll be there, and I’m very used to nightclubs, and I’ll make sure you’re okay. Tell you what. You don’t seem to be having much luck with supper. I was planning to grab a sub on the way. Come join me for that, my treat, and you can decide whether to come home or come with me. Call it our three-month anniversary—it’s not exactly right, but pretty close.”
“It’s been three months? Wow, you’re right, it has. That’s a hard offer to pass up. All right. Should I change?”
Mark looked over his faded well-worn blue jeans and dark green t-shirt with its print of a wolf howling at the moon, his hair tied back. It wasn’t much like Mark’s close-fitting deep-black jeans with strategic horizontal rips and plain black t-shirt with the sleeves and collar and bottom removed. “No, if you aren’t looking for someone to bring home to bed, you’re fine. Although honestly, it’s still not impossible that a guy could try to bring you home. It’s mostly a straight bar but it’s not redneck enough for that to be out of the question. You’ve kinda got that look...”
Christian decided that he really did not want to know what look he might kinda have. “Officially, a guy hitting on me isn’t a problem. That’s one of those things I never could figure out—I just don’t really see it as relevant to attraction, I guess? A complete stranger hitting on me, on the other hand, that I don’t think I’m comfortable with.” Belatedly, he remembered that not everyone was okay with that kind of non-orientation, but then, he was fairly sure a lamia who could switch back and forth was likely to be open-minded.
“Not even vaguely unexpected. I’ll take care of anything like that.” He straightened up and gestured. “Shall we?”
* * *
When the band wrapped up around midnight, they left.
Outside and a short distance away, where they wouldn’t be in the line of traffic, Christian held out a hand to stop Mark and closed his eyes. Clothes got stained with soil and sweat and other things when working on yards and gardens and other landscaping jobs, helping his father, and he’d always found that annoying. His grandmother had taught him a trick for getting unwanted particles out of textiles, and when he’d proudly demonstrated for his mother, they’d worked together on a way to extend it to skin and hair. It worked quite nicely for getting rid of most of the stale smoky scent; he still wanted a shower, but this was an improvement.
“Want a quick clean-up?” he offered.
“Sure,” Mark said. “I’m used to it but it’s not something I like.”
“I do need to touch.”
Mark just grinned at him. “And you think that’s a problem at this point?”
Christian felt himself blush, and tried to keep his attention strictly on cleaning.
Moments stood out in his memory, in the blurred sensory overload.
Mark had coaxed him to the dancefloor more than once, completely ignoring a few sidelong looks. Not particularly coordinated or graceful, Christian still had to admit that it was fun. Later in the night, more dancers had crowded the floor, forcing them into closer proximity. A trio of young women, clearly well on the way to intoxication, had been swept near them by the currents of motion; one had backed into Christian with enough uncontrolled force to make him stumble forward, the unexpected shove leaving him precariously off-balance. Mark had caught him and kept him on his feet—by pulling Christian against himself, and holding him until he’d stabilized. Nothing about it had struck Christian as flirtatious rather than protective, but he was definitely not used to that much contact with anyone.
“Better?” Christian asked, stepping back.
“Much. Thanks. Home?”
“Um, yes, I think so. I mean, it’s been fun, but I think I’m tired. I’m not as nocturnal as you are. And I’m not used to being out.”
“I know. I don’t think we need to stop anywhere. Want to catch a cab?”
“Walking’s fine. It’s a gorgeous night and it’s not that far. The fresh air feels good. Unless you’re in a hurry?”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t mind walking. I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”
Christian wondered fleetingly whether that had anything to do with another memorable incident of the evening.
Mark had made sure Christian was settled in one of the booths against the wall, with a promise to return once he’d visited the bathroom and braved the mob at the bar to get them each another glass of cola. Oddly, he’d emphasized that it might take a bit of time with the increasing crowd, and advised Christian to use his gifts to gently discourage anyone from bothering him.
There wasn’t much in a nightclub for Christian’s other senses to pick up—no liminals or elementals, no magic, no one with witchblood. So the flare of Alexandra’s rippled-shadow aura certainly caught his attention. His first instinct was to go in search of his roommate to see if something was wrong, but realistically, it was highly unlikely that he’d be any use. He wasn’t even certain he could find her. That presence had lingered longer than he’d have expected, then simply vanished, and a short time later, Mark had rejoined him with the drinks. Mindful of Mark’s privacy, Christian settled for asking whether everything was okay, and simply accepted the offhanded affirmative without further question.
Whatever had happened, maybe that was what he’d gone out for, and was the reason he had no reason to stay out longer. Christian couldn’t ask, though. That would almost certainly end the evening badly, and that would be a shame after several enjoyable hours together.
They walked home mostly in silence, but it didn’t feel strained or pressured at all, just relaxed and restful.
“Excuse me? Witch? Do you have a moment?” The voice was so soft and light that Christian could have missed it; he looked around hastily for the source, and saw a large, hunched figure in the shadows, clad in shapeless draperies. In the shadows of the driveway between two duplexes, it was hard to make out details, but he knew of only one type of liminal that matched that outline.
“Company?” Mark asked.
Christian nodded. “Hi,” he said to the liminal. “Of course I have time. If you’re able to make yourself visible to my friend, I’d appreciate it. He won’t be afraid of you, I promise. Right, Mark?”
“Absolutely,” Mark said. “I’d prefer not to leave the witch alone at this hour, but it would be less awkward if I could see you.”
“If you ask,” the big liminal said. “I’ve come to beg for your help.”
Christian glanced at Mark, who nodded absently, gaze on the hunched figure.
“Help with what?” Christian asked.
“One of my... you’d say siblings... is missing. My family has searched and we cannot find en. Others still search, or are asking others for any sighting of en. We have exchanged favours with Seth for many years. I hoped that perhaps...”
“Of course I’ll help,” Christian said. “Where was en last seen?”
“By the lake. The breakwater.”
That was a considerable distance from here, along the lakeshore and outside the city centre.
“We can’t move around the way you can,” Christian said. “We’ll need time. We’ll have to call a cab and meet you there. Will you be able to keep watch for us?”
“I will. I can show you where we last saw en. Thank you.”
“I don’t know if I can do anything useful, but I’ll try. We’ll see you soon.”
The hunched shadowy figure bowed and stepped back into the darkness, fading out of sight.
“The nearest payphone is at least three blocks away,” Christian said, starting to walk again; Mark fell into step beside him. “It’s probably easier to go home and call from there. I can pick up a couple of things that might help with searching. It’s okay if you want to stay home when we get there.”
“Oh let me think about that no I’m coming with you.” That was all perfectly conversational and at a steady pace without a single pause. “Wasn’t that a troll?”
“Yes. From probably the only family for... oh, I don’t even know how far in any direction. There are lots way up in the north, all across Canada—they came from Eurasia a long time ago, they tolerate cold and all much better than humans do, and they like all the open land. Boreal forest, arctic islands, that kind of thing, and the mountains out west of course. My grandfather said this family were explorers, unusually far south.”
“Did he, ah... spend a lot of time around them?”
“Not really. I’ve only ever had a glimpse of them once or twice. I heard about them, though. My family dealt with a lot of different kinds of liminals, y’know.”
“Mmhmm. So you know how they tend to relate to humans, then?”
“I know they’re all physically and psychologically genderless. I know they’re brilliant at working stone. I know that my grandfather wouldn’t have bargained with them multiple times if they’d broken their word at any point. Um... oh, I’m pretty sure they’re omnivores but they’re not big on cooking food. Are you looking for something specific?”
“You do realize that they have a history of literally ripping humans apart and eating them?”
Christian’s forehead furrowed in thought. That sounded vaguely familiar. “I’m pretty sure that these days, they only do that if they’ve been attacked or threatened.”
“That’s not a problem?”
“They are what they are. It’s not up to me what they do in self-defence. If they were otherwise predatory or aggressive, my grandfather wouldn’t have been bargaining with them. If nothing else, Vadin would have intervened.”
“Not saying it’s true in this case, but you might want to consider whether maybe some liminals treat your grandfather differently because he has an very powerful naga friend they don’t want to mess with.”
Christian looked sideways at him. “I bet not much wants to mess with you.” Not given that aura he’d sensed around Alexandra, and how easily she’d killed a parasite that, judging by later research, would have been difficult for Christian to deal with alone. It would be hard to forget that worm’s terror once she’d revealed herself.
“Yeah. But camoflauge is rather pointless if you advertise it. It’s good for everyone and everything to know Alexandra claimed this city and has an alliance with the local witch. Not so good for everyone and everything to know Alexandra’s secret identity.” Mark shrugged. “Let’s get home and get on with this, then. We’ll be home and able to relax that much more quickly.”
Why did camoflauge matter? That, however, was likely to be one of those questions that would just make Mark testy if asked.
He concentrated just on walking, pushing the pace to the small extent that he could, and Mark simply stayed beside him, quiet and presumably lost in his own thoughts. Familiar with walking when the bus wasn’t convenient, Christian knew he wasn’t otherwise particularly athletic, and he knew he was already tired on multiple levels.
His gifts should be fine. Minimal telekinesis in the men’s room, minimal subtle illusion while waiting, and the quick cleanup job added up to no more than he commonly used on an ordinary day. His ability to concentrate probably wasn’t at its best, and that was unfortunate, since aside from card readings, divination was low on his list of skills.
What else could he do, though? A missing person, of whatever kind, couldn’t be ignored or dismissed or postponed without risking that person’s safety.
“Headed out?” Christian asked, glancing up from rummaging in the fridge for something that could pass for supper.
Mark leaned against the edge of the kitchen door, hands in the pockets of his black jeans, and nodded. “There’s a band playing tonight at the Millenium. I heard them before I moved here, the music’s decent. Covers of alt-rock, mainly.”
“Which one’s the Millenium?”
“Behind the big drugstore downtown. Around the corner from the mini-strip mall that’s all variations on fast food. It’s one of the better nightclubs. Less pretentious than the ones by the waterfront hotels that are all tourists and travelling businessmen, less sleazy than the ones in the north end, less of a meat-market than the ones closer to the university.” Mark tilted his head to one side. “Why? Do you want to come? You can if you want. You work Sunday but not tomorrow, right?”
“To a nightclub? Um... I don’t have much experience with them.”
Not none, just... not much. He’d been old enough to drink for over a year, and had gone out twice soon after his nineteenth birthday with a casual friend he’d been gaming with, but he’d quickly decided that it had little appeal. He wasn’t comfortable with strangers unless it was in small numbers, wasn’t comfortable feeling crowded and overwhelmed, and wasn’t comfortable trying to make friends under such conditions. Excessive alcohol could, potentially, lead to embarrassing difficulties with his gifts, but he couldn’t see the appeal even of lower quantities. The music had been loud enough to make his ears ring, and just shy of a new millenium, the space was still dense with unpleasant smoke, mixing with the smells of an awful lot of bodies; the combination had left him with a headache and a desperate desire for cool outside air and a long shower.
On the other hand, despite the careless phrasing, that invitation was distinctly startling, and he was reluctant to just turn it down.
Mark shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s not for everyone, and knowing you, I’m not surprised. Does it help if I remind you that I promised to protect you?”
“From extramundane threats,” Christian retorted. “Unless there’s another parasite around that you aren’t telling me about, that’s not relevant.”
Another shrug, and a grin. “If anything happens to you, I have to go back to wandering, and I’m enjoying actually having a stable place to live. So I have a vested interest in making sure you survive it. Nah, seriously, if you think you might like it, well, I’ll be there, and I’m very used to nightclubs, and I’ll make sure you’re okay. Tell you what. You don’t seem to be having much luck with supper. I was planning to grab a sub on the way. Come join me for that, my treat, and you can decide whether to come home or come with me. Call it our three-month anniversary—it’s not exactly right, but pretty close.”
“It’s been three months? Wow, you’re right, it has. That’s a hard offer to pass up. All right. Should I change?”
Mark looked over his faded well-worn blue jeans and dark green t-shirt with its print of a wolf howling at the moon, his hair tied back. It wasn’t much like Mark’s close-fitting deep-black jeans with strategic horizontal rips and plain black t-shirt with the sleeves and collar and bottom removed. “No, if you aren’t looking for someone to bring home to bed, you’re fine. Although honestly, it’s still not impossible that a guy could try to bring you home. It’s mostly a straight bar but it’s not redneck enough for that to be out of the question. You’ve kinda got that look...”
Christian decided that he really did not want to know what look he might kinda have. “Officially, a guy hitting on me isn’t a problem. That’s one of those things I never could figure out—I just don’t really see it as relevant to attraction, I guess? A complete stranger hitting on me, on the other hand, that I don’t think I’m comfortable with.” Belatedly, he remembered that not everyone was okay with that kind of non-orientation, but then, he was fairly sure a lamia who could switch back and forth was likely to be open-minded.
“Not even vaguely unexpected. I’ll take care of anything like that.” He straightened up and gestured. “Shall we?”
* * *
When the band wrapped up around midnight, they left.
Outside and a short distance away, where they wouldn’t be in the line of traffic, Christian held out a hand to stop Mark and closed his eyes. Clothes got stained with soil and sweat and other things when working on yards and gardens and other landscaping jobs, helping his father, and he’d always found that annoying. His grandmother had taught him a trick for getting unwanted particles out of textiles, and when he’d proudly demonstrated for his mother, they’d worked together on a way to extend it to skin and hair. It worked quite nicely for getting rid of most of the stale smoky scent; he still wanted a shower, but this was an improvement.
“Want a quick clean-up?” he offered.
“Sure,” Mark said. “I’m used to it but it’s not something I like.”
“I do need to touch.”
Mark just grinned at him. “And you think that’s a problem at this point?”
Christian felt himself blush, and tried to keep his attention strictly on cleaning.
Moments stood out in his memory, in the blurred sensory overload.
Mark had coaxed him to the dancefloor more than once, completely ignoring a few sidelong looks. Not particularly coordinated or graceful, Christian still had to admit that it was fun. Later in the night, more dancers had crowded the floor, forcing them into closer proximity. A trio of young women, clearly well on the way to intoxication, had been swept near them by the currents of motion; one had backed into Christian with enough uncontrolled force to make him stumble forward, the unexpected shove leaving him precariously off-balance. Mark had caught him and kept him on his feet—by pulling Christian against himself, and holding him until he’d stabilized. Nothing about it had struck Christian as flirtatious rather than protective, but he was definitely not used to that much contact with anyone.
“Better?” Christian asked, stepping back.
“Much. Thanks. Home?”
“Um, yes, I think so. I mean, it’s been fun, but I think I’m tired. I’m not as nocturnal as you are. And I’m not used to being out.”
“I know. I don’t think we need to stop anywhere. Want to catch a cab?”
“Walking’s fine. It’s a gorgeous night and it’s not that far. The fresh air feels good. Unless you’re in a hurry?”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t mind walking. I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”
Christian wondered fleetingly whether that had anything to do with another memorable incident of the evening.
Mark had made sure Christian was settled in one of the booths against the wall, with a promise to return once he’d visited the bathroom and braved the mob at the bar to get them each another glass of cola. Oddly, he’d emphasized that it might take a bit of time with the increasing crowd, and advised Christian to use his gifts to gently discourage anyone from bothering him.
There wasn’t much in a nightclub for Christian’s other senses to pick up—no liminals or elementals, no magic, no one with witchblood. So the flare of Alexandra’s rippled-shadow aura certainly caught his attention. His first instinct was to go in search of his roommate to see if something was wrong, but realistically, it was highly unlikely that he’d be any use. He wasn’t even certain he could find her. That presence had lingered longer than he’d have expected, then simply vanished, and a short time later, Mark had rejoined him with the drinks. Mindful of Mark’s privacy, Christian settled for asking whether everything was okay, and simply accepted the offhanded affirmative without further question.
Whatever had happened, maybe that was what he’d gone out for, and was the reason he had no reason to stay out longer. Christian couldn’t ask, though. That would almost certainly end the evening badly, and that would be a shame after several enjoyable hours together.
They walked home mostly in silence, but it didn’t feel strained or pressured at all, just relaxed and restful.
“Excuse me? Witch? Do you have a moment?” The voice was so soft and light that Christian could have missed it; he looked around hastily for the source, and saw a large, hunched figure in the shadows, clad in shapeless draperies. In the shadows of the driveway between two duplexes, it was hard to make out details, but he knew of only one type of liminal that matched that outline.
“Company?” Mark asked.
Christian nodded. “Hi,” he said to the liminal. “Of course I have time. If you’re able to make yourself visible to my friend, I’d appreciate it. He won’t be afraid of you, I promise. Right, Mark?”
“Absolutely,” Mark said. “I’d prefer not to leave the witch alone at this hour, but it would be less awkward if I could see you.”
“If you ask,” the big liminal said. “I’ve come to beg for your help.”
Christian glanced at Mark, who nodded absently, gaze on the hunched figure.
“Help with what?” Christian asked.
“One of my... you’d say siblings... is missing. My family has searched and we cannot find en. Others still search, or are asking others for any sighting of en. We have exchanged favours with Seth for many years. I hoped that perhaps...”
“Of course I’ll help,” Christian said. “Where was en last seen?”
“By the lake. The breakwater.”
That was a considerable distance from here, along the lakeshore and outside the city centre.
“We can’t move around the way you can,” Christian said. “We’ll need time. We’ll have to call a cab and meet you there. Will you be able to keep watch for us?”
“I will. I can show you where we last saw en. Thank you.”
“I don’t know if I can do anything useful, but I’ll try. We’ll see you soon.”
The hunched shadowy figure bowed and stepped back into the darkness, fading out of sight.
“The nearest payphone is at least three blocks away,” Christian said, starting to walk again; Mark fell into step beside him. “It’s probably easier to go home and call from there. I can pick up a couple of things that might help with searching. It’s okay if you want to stay home when we get there.”
“Oh let me think about that no I’m coming with you.” That was all perfectly conversational and at a steady pace without a single pause. “Wasn’t that a troll?”
“Yes. From probably the only family for... oh, I don’t even know how far in any direction. There are lots way up in the north, all across Canada—they came from Eurasia a long time ago, they tolerate cold and all much better than humans do, and they like all the open land. Boreal forest, arctic islands, that kind of thing, and the mountains out west of course. My grandfather said this family were explorers, unusually far south.”
“Did he, ah... spend a lot of time around them?”
“Not really. I’ve only ever had a glimpse of them once or twice. I heard about them, though. My family dealt with a lot of different kinds of liminals, y’know.”
“Mmhmm. So you know how they tend to relate to humans, then?”
“I know they’re all physically and psychologically genderless. I know they’re brilliant at working stone. I know that my grandfather wouldn’t have bargained with them multiple times if they’d broken their word at any point. Um... oh, I’m pretty sure they’re omnivores but they’re not big on cooking food. Are you looking for something specific?”
“You do realize that they have a history of literally ripping humans apart and eating them?”
Christian’s forehead furrowed in thought. That sounded vaguely familiar. “I’m pretty sure that these days, they only do that if they’ve been attacked or threatened.”
“That’s not a problem?”
“They are what they are. It’s not up to me what they do in self-defence. If they were otherwise predatory or aggressive, my grandfather wouldn’t have been bargaining with them. If nothing else, Vadin would have intervened.”
“Not saying it’s true in this case, but you might want to consider whether maybe some liminals treat your grandfather differently because he has an very powerful naga friend they don’t want to mess with.”
Christian looked sideways at him. “I bet not much wants to mess with you.” Not given that aura he’d sensed around Alexandra, and how easily she’d killed a parasite that, judging by later research, would have been difficult for Christian to deal with alone. It would be hard to forget that worm’s terror once she’d revealed herself.
“Yeah. But camoflauge is rather pointless if you advertise it. It’s good for everyone and everything to know Alexandra claimed this city and has an alliance with the local witch. Not so good for everyone and everything to know Alexandra’s secret identity.” Mark shrugged. “Let’s get home and get on with this, then. We’ll be home and able to relax that much more quickly.”
Why did camoflauge matter? That, however, was likely to be one of those questions that would just make Mark testy if asked.
He concentrated just on walking, pushing the pace to the small extent that he could, and Mark simply stayed beside him, quiet and presumably lost in his own thoughts. Familiar with walking when the bus wasn’t convenient, Christian knew he wasn’t otherwise particularly athletic, and he knew he was already tired on multiple levels.
His gifts should be fine. Minimal telekinesis in the men’s room, minimal subtle illusion while waiting, and the quick cleanup job added up to no more than he commonly used on an ordinary day. His ability to concentrate probably wasn’t at its best, and that was unfortunate, since aside from card readings, divination was low on his list of skills.
What else could he do, though? A missing person, of whatever kind, couldn’t be ignored or dismissed or postponed without risking that person’s safety.
