I keep forgetting to post this
Jan. 28th, 2007 11:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrThe last one. Hopefully it does not suck ^^;; It fought me frequently and often...and won...
407: Wolves and Demons
Sable sat up, moving before he was entirely awake.
He woke angry. Angry about something in the dream that had driven him into consciousness, and angry that he’d also woken up feeling scared.
Shoving haphazard curls from his face, he lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Moonlight filtered in between the heavy curtains that blocked out the city lights. Scrubbing his face with his hands, displeased that he was so unsettled, Sable tried desperately to cling to the shreds of his dream, but they slipped away and left him feeling only angry, scared and restless.
Turning on his side, Sable reached out and ran his hand down Christian’s cheek, across his shoulder and down the length of his body, reassuring himself that his consort still slept soundly at his side. Realizing what he was doing, Sable snatched his hand away again and turned to climb out of bed, locating and putting on a pair of black silk pants.
A thought revived the fire as he sat down on his leather couch facing it. Though the room was cool, Sable did not feel it. Outside, beyond the windows, the city was also oddly still. The occasional ripples of abnormal power but nothing unusual. It was three in the morning. Save for a few more nocturnally inclined, the city slept. In bed, Christian was fast asleep. Only Sable seemed to be at odds with the world.
Annoyed with himself, Sable wandered to the windows and jerked the curtains back. Light spilled into the middle of the room and he gazed down at the city far below. Throughout most of it the buildings were dark. Only Sable’s hotels shone brightly, offering far more to its guests and city natives than mere room and board. From the top of the Tantalus, he could easily see the shining red lights of the Seventh Circle and the cool blue of the Seraphim. Once the three buildings had been his dearest treasures. Far more than hotels, the triad of buildings was the palace at the center of his territory. Everyone for miles around could see them. They were something to be proud of, but they were no longer his greatest joy.
“Sable?” Chris said from the bed.
He let the curtains fall shut as he turned, storm-cloud eyes easily spotting his lover in the dark. Always a breathtaking sight, his consort. His. Christian had always been beautiful, the way he radiated that strange combination of energies – palest gold mixed with purest black. Now, though, those two colors were suffused with Sable’s own silver-gray. To all demons, and those few other creatures that could sense the energies, Christian was marked brightly and loudly as belonging to Sable. “Yes, beautiful?”
“What are you doing up?”
Sable moved toward the bed, pressing Chris down before he could get up. “I woke up and could not settle. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He brushed Chris’s lips softly. “Go back to sleep.”
“Come back to bed,” Chris said in reply.
“I’m not tired,” Sable protested. “I’d just keep you awake.”
Chris smirked. “I never said anything about sleeping. And later maybe you’ll tell me why you’re upset.”
Sable laughed as Chris kissed him, allowing himself to be dragged back into bed. “As you wish, beloved.” Then proceeded to make sure Chris forgot everything but his name.
“So how long will you be gone?” Sable asked with a frown.
Chris kissed the corner of his mouth, then darted away to finish dressing. He pulled on a red t-shirt and brushed his hair. Diamonds sparkled in his ears, at complete odds with his casual appearance. “I should be back by lunch,” he said tolerantly.
“I don’t see why you have to go at all. Nor do I like it.”
“It’s just to talk to a witness.” Chris shrugged into his beat up leather coat, forestalling the protest Sable was about to make. “Just a few hours, Sable.”
Sable shook his head and dragged him close, kissing Chris hard enough to bruise his lips. “Fine. But be back by lunch. You weren’t supposed to be working today.”
“I know,” Chris said, suddenly letting his weariness show. “But its best if I do this. It shouldn’t take long.” Sable let him move away. “I’ll be back soon.” He stepped close again, reaching up to give Sable a deep kiss goodbye. “I’m sorry, Sable.”
Sable sighed. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, beloved. It’s my own problem if I don’t want to share you.”
Chris laughed. “Only my time, Sable. The rest is yours.”
“Yes, it is,” Sable said, folding his arms to keep him where he belonged a moment longer. “I’ll see you for lunch then. Try not to cause too much trouble.”
“I never cause trouble. It just finds me.” Grumbling about the sort of trouble that always found him, Chris departed.
Sighing again, never quite comfortable when his consort was away, Sable forced himself to get on with the day. Downstairs in the main lobby of the Tantalus he fell into dealing with the day to day problems of his hotels, tending to guests both normal and abnormal.
At ten o’clock one of his assistants brought him something to drink. Sable reached out to take it, but at the last moment missed. The sound of shattering glass filled the spacious lobby and startled everyone into silence. Scattered around him were broken pieces of glass and dark red juice.
Sable didn’t notice. A heartbeat later the silence was shattered by his scream. “Christian!” His terrified scream turned into one of rage. Power rippled, echoing his fury, and throughout the hotel and nearby buildings normals and weaker abnormals dropped unconscious the floor. Even several stronger abnormals fell to the ground or stopped short from sudden weakness and a heavy sense of dread.
Outside, the normally gray weather turned nasty, thunder rumbling hard enough to shake buildings, lightning splitting the sky and striking wildly, dangerously.
With a snarl Sable vanished from the hotel, rumbling thunder chasing him as he appeared at the far northwest end of his property.
Alpha Sandalio waited for him just beyond the point that Sable could go.
Sable barely noticed, eyes only for the unconscious form of his consort, his energies dimmed, barely glowing, trapped in the most complicated spellcage he’d ever seen. Too complicated. Demon level magic. Werewolves shouldn’t be capable of magic even a fifth so strong. “You will die,” he vowed. “More horribly than you can possibly imagine.”
Sandalio laughed. “Stupid, foolish, arrogant demon. What can you do to me? You can’t use your power outside your own territory.” His eyes flicked past Sable, to the four figures that had appeared with a faint ripple of imp-magic. “If the whore’s lackeys try anything, I’ll kill him.” He sneered. “Which will send you straight back to hell, demon. So don’t waste time with empty threats.”
“It was not a threat,” Sable said softly but with chilling certainty. “You will die slowly, screaming in pain and begging for mercy, and I will stand here and laugh. Only a fool would dare to mess with a demon’s consort.”
“Empty threats,” Sandalio said contemptuously. He sneered.
“What do you want?” Sable asked coldly.
“Surely you already know that,” Sandalio said. “What does everyone want from you?”
Sable relaxed slightly, lips curving in a contemptuous sneer. “As if a werewolf like you could make full use of it.”
Sandalio laughed. “You’ve got one hour, demon, to bring me the book. If you’re so much as a second late—“
“Then you’ll never get the book,” Sable interrupted, thunder overhead rippling with his words, the fine mist in the air becoming a light shower. “No one but I can take books from the case where it’s kept. If you force me back to hell, you’ll never get it. And you will suffer, make no mistake about that. Even fools do not anger demons.” With a last snarl, power rippling, Sable vanished.
He reappeared in his rooms at the top of the Tantalus, Doug and the others alongside him.
“How?” Doug asked.
Sable raked a hand through his damp hair, sparing the imp a brief look, attention solely for his consort. “I don’t know. That spellcage must have taken years of work.”
“So they’ve been plotting this for a long time. Is a book really that valuable?” Doug replied.
“Yes.” Sable stopped before a tall bookcase tucked into the corner of his office. The shelves appeared completely ordinary – until he drew close, and then even Doug winced slightly at the power which emanated forth. Sable murmured the words that deactivated the ward spells, then reached in and stroked his fingers along the spine of an old book, the leather cracked and worn, lettering faded. It warmed beneath his touch.
The Book of the Angel Raziel was what it said, or would have if the wording was still legible. Despite the age of the outside, the words inside would be near-perfect, as if they’d been penned only minutes ago. This was the book Sandalio wanted. The book more than few had wanted in the past. He’d hunted long for it, had refused to settle into a territory until he had it.
This was the book that had brought him forth, made him a slave for two hundred years, trapped in a mirror to do the bidding of the human who had managed to summon him. But most humans were foolish, and the magician had slipped up
By then, however, the book had long since gone to other hands, and too many demons had been incorrectly summoned, damaged by the process. One other demon besides himself had been summoned before Sable had finally managed to secure the book, ensure no one else could use it.
That other demon also sat on his protected bookshelves, kept company by spell books more than a few paranormals had died trying to obtain and use. Sable let go of The Book of the Angel Raziel and reached for a different book. It was made of soft, smooth as silk leather and dyed a rich, creamy color that resembled fresh butter. No words or images decorated it; it could have been anything. “Asenath,” Sable murmured softly, “this may finally be your chance. I’m sorry for it, but there’s no other choice.” Beneath his fingertips the book seemed to thrum, vibrate, and from the center of the cover ink seemed to spread like blood from a fresh wound, soaking the book until it looked as though Sable held The Book of the Angel Raziel.
Holding the book lightly, Sable turned back to the rest of the room. Patiently, though obviously that patience had long ago worn thin, faces strained with worry, confusion, Doug, Zack, Myra and Phil all waited for him to explain what was going on, and why their lead detective was currently being held by werewolves. “Myra,” he said, addressing the werewolf who was the latest to be adopted into Christian’s detective agency, “if there’s anyone is Sandalio’s immediate pack you would prefer live, you had best figure out soon how to warn him.”
“The only wolf I cared about it dead,” Myra said flatly, her cold expression at complete odds with her delicate, pretty features. Dressed in a pale blue sweater and flared jeans, black boots, hair loosely gathered, she looked gentle, like a school teacher or as though she should be serving tea. But the hard lines set into her face as she spoke of her former pack betrayed her werewolf blood. “Sandalio has hurt Chris, and in so doing angered a demon; let him suffer the consequences. Merely leave those who had no part in this alone.”
Phil shuddered beside her, hugging Jester tight. “I like it better when we all we have to do was figure out who stole what and why. Is Chris going to be okay?” She buried her face as Jester chattered at her, his rainbow wings fluttering. “Demon-loved hurting,” she whispered, repeating Jester’s words to her.
“Not for long,” Sable said, voice filled with grim promise. “Werewolves should learn to do their homework. Raziel is not the only book I own.” He looked at them. “You are to stay here. Once I set this book loose, there is no controlling it. Beyond that, the sight will not be a pleasant one.” Sandalio should never have hurt Christian. “Stay here. You will know when Christian is safe.” With that he vanished.
He reappeared at the edge of his territory, Sandalio and his wolves looking as though they had not moved so much as an inch since his departure. “Here you are,” Sable said, and tossed the book to them.
Sandalio bared his teeth in a vicious, triumphant smile and motioned for one of his wolves, a cruel looking half-breed with dark fur and large, filthy teeth, to fetch the book. His face was expressionless as Sandalio sent a wolf to retrieve it He watched as the wolf gripped the book. “Asenath,” he said softly. “Your binding I break. Fulfill the strictures of the spell cast upon you.”
A moment later the screaming began.
What had been a book was now a strange, monstrous specter – a shadow given solidity, teeth and claws flashing as it attacked the wolves, devoured them piece by piece, oblivious to the blood and screams, working with eerie, silent efficiency.
Sable watched impassively, unmoved by the massacre.
After a few minutes, he cast his eyes about, searching for and immediately finding Sandalio at the far edge of the field, unable to go anywhere as the wolf in him went crazy at the smell of so much blood and death. He watched as a blood-crazed Sandalio attacked the specter – and laughed loudly as the specter won, devouring the Alpha whole.
Sable laughed.
Everything seemed to still for a moment; even the air itself seemed to stop moving. Then the specter began to glow – faintly at first merely fading from black to gray, but then it began to glow bright white, then to a burning, brilliant gold that spread out and overtook the field, drowning everything out. Brighter and brighter the light flared, blinding in its intensity – then went out.
No sign of violence remained. Only a green field, the midday sun high above.
In the center of the field stood a tall man, so slender he was bony, not a spare ounce of fat anywhere on his frame. His skin was fair, as if the last of his tan was just fading away. He wore loose jeans and a tight, dark blue polo, a gold chain gleaming at his throat. His hair was blonde, as pale and rich in color as fresh butter, falling to his waist. Eyes the color of a setting sun fastened on Sable, and slowly he began to cross the field, Christian cradled in his arms.
“Cadfael,” the man said quietly, and gently handed Christian over. “Thank you.”
Sable bowed his head. “It is good to see you free, Asenath.”
“It is good to be free,” Asenath said. “I will be taking over the wolf territories, and will bring them under control. Take your consort home, demon of storms. We will speak later.”
“Later,” Sable agreed. He vanished, Chris held close.
“Please tell me my head hurts this much because I got drunk,” Chris said with a groan as he slowly sat up.
Sable turned sharply from where he was standing in front of the floor-length windows that ran most the length of his bedroom and strode over to the bed, sitting down beside Chris and kissing him hard. “Christian,” he breathed when he finally stopped.
“Not because I got drunk then,” Chris finally said, and leaned forward to rest against Sable, wrapping arms tightly around his waist. “What happened? I remember going to the arranged meeting place, and I was on my way back when I saw Sandalio…” He shook his head. “Then I felt a lot of pain, like someone had ripped my spine out or something.” He shuddered at the memory. “What happened?”
Sable ducked his head to nuzzle at Chris’s bare throat and shoulder, breathing in the smell of his consort, tasting his skin, reveling in the energies that were slowly returning to full strength, his own silver-gray stronger than ever. “Sandalio trapped you in a spellcage.” He turned Chris’ head up and kissed him, stroked his cheek. “Just outside my reach.”
“Why?” Chris asked, blue eyes dark with anger and fear as the full reality of what Sandalio had done washed over him. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, beloved, now that you’re back where you belong.” Sable kissed him again, then shifted, pressing Chris back down into bed, looming over him. “He wanted one of my books.”
“To gain more power for his wolves?” Chris asked, though he knew the answer. He reached up and dragged Sable down, curling up against him, tangled in the silk sheets. “I’m sorry, Sable.”
Sable nipped at his throat, hand searching out skin beneath the silk. “That is why I always press you not to bank your power, beloved.”
“I know,” Chris said. “I’m sorry. What did you do to them?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Chris glared. “Sable.”
“They shouldn’t have hurt you,” Sable said, eyes flashing like lightning. “It was only Sandalio and his closest – not more than a couple dozen vile werewolves that did the pack more harm than good.” His frown deepened as Chris only stared at him. “I’m a demon, Christian. They should not have harmed you.”
“I’m your consort,” Chris replied, pulling away and sitting up. “Getting hurt comes with that position.”
Sable yanked him back, holding him close, taking his mouth and kissing him hard, fingers holding tight enough to leave bruises. “You’re mine. No one hurts you. If Sandalio wanted the book, he should have stuck to form and not attempted to threaten me by hurting you.”
“Sable…” Chris said softly, burying his face against the demon’s chest. He looked up a minute later, blue eyes dark. “This is why I didn’t want to do it, Sable. I don’t want to know that something as stupid as putting me in a spellcage could kill you. You’re mine too, you know. I don’t want you hurt because of me.”
“And I told you to shut up, as I recall,” Sable said with a rare soft smile.
Chris looked disgruntled at the memory. “Yes. Bastard. No more mindless murdering just because I’m an idiot, all right, Sable?”
Sable sighed. “Whatever you want, beloved. Though if you want to avoid something like that again—”
“Stop banking my power, I know,” Chris said with a sigh of his own. “I just don’t…” He sighed again.
“I believe I told you to shut up then, too,” Sable said with his more familiar smirk.
Chris thumped his chest hard, sitting up and glaring at Sable, batting away his hands. “Shut up yourself. It isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not. Use the power I’ve given you, Christian. The power that’s rightfully yours as my consort. Then they won’t get to you nearly as easily, which means they won’t get to me as easily.”
“That’s not playing fair,” Chris complained.
Sable laughed. “All’s fair in love and war, isn’t that how the saying goes?”
“Shut up.” Chris sighed and laid back down, curling around Sable. “So explain everything to me.”
“Later, beautiful,” Sable replied, moving so that Chris was once more pinned beneath him, leaning down to take a hard kiss.
“Cadfael.”
Sable bowed his head. “Asenath. You are looking well.”
Asenath laughed, the sound sour, and swept loose strands of his fine blonde hair from his face, yellow eyes landing on Chris. “Cadfael’s consort. You look much healthier than when I first saw you.”
“My thanks to you for that, Asenath,” Chris said, bowing his head.
“Alain,” Asenath said. “That’s my name now. Alain Townsend.” He motioned to the land all around him. “I’ll be taking over the territories claimed by the wolf packs. I’ll bring them to heel, and they’ll cause you no more trouble.” His sunbright eyes gleamed, ensuring the words were not idle. “Thank you, Cadfael, for helping me break free.”
“I owed you one, as I recalled. I am glad you are free of the spell. And you can call me Sable.”
Chris tilted his head, looking curiously at Alain. “What were the conditions of the spell?”
“To devour five thousand abnormals,” Alain said, expression as downcast as a cloudy sky. “The man who imprisoned me hated them all; he wanted to add more to the stricture, but he had not the strength. Five thousand was the most he could manage.”
Sable grunted. “The wolves listen to you?”
“Yes. I have staked a claim on Third Candidate Grey. As he is the only Candidate still living, that makes him Alpha.” Alain licked his lips, eyes gleaming. “Through him, I’ll keep order. The wolves suit me.”
“And Grey?” Sable asked, storm cloud eyes regarding the other demon thoughtfully.
Alain smirked. “He is mine.”
“There’s a tone and statement I recognize,” Chris said dryly.
Sable chuckled and reached out to drag Chris close. “You dislike the tone, beautiful?”
“Only the insufferable arrogance behind it,” Chris retorted.
“I know very well you like the arrogance,” Sable said softly in his ear, nipping hard at his lobe. His eyes flicked back to Alain. “Go play with your wolves. I will send Christian to see you in a few days time. Thank you again for your help.”
“You gave me a chance to set myself free,” Alain replied. “I feel I still owe you a debt.”
“Bring the wolves to heel,” Sable said. “Farewell, Alain.”
“Farewell, Sable. Christian.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “What is it with demons insisting on using my whole name? Call me Chris.”
Alain smiled briefly and nodded, then with a short bow – one of those odd mannerisms demons always seemed to carry – he vanished.
Sable and Chris vanished in the next moment, appearing in Sable’s rooms.
In the sitting area, Chris’s team waited impatiently.
All four had touches of Chris’s own stranger energies – most especially Douglas, who was very much Chris’s protégé. Even Myra had begun to take on hints of Chris in her mix of tame and wild energies, somehow blending smoothly into the rest of the team, adding her own unique skills to the strange group of detectives.
The strangest of the group was perhaps Phil – she bore little resemblance to the girl she’d been when first possessed by a demon. Very little, if anything, remained of the spoiled brat Sable vaguely recalled.
Zach too seemed to be flourishing as a paranormal detective, and if his peers had been giving him any trouble in that respect – the DeLovelys had not mentioned it. His mixture was the oddest – the cool colors of the vampires mixed with the warmer colors of Douglas, touches of Chris’s dark and bright energies.
Unique energies everywhere, infinitely appealing.
None was more appealing, more perfect, than the gold and black of Christian saturated with his own silver-gray.
Already he was ready to be alone, to have what his consort to himself. He detested sharing.
Chris seemed to sense his mood, breaking away from his team and coming toward him. “You look like a thundercloud.”
“Appropriate,” Sable murmured, leaning down to steal a kiss. “Is everyone assured of your safety?”
Doug laughed from the far side of the room. “Demons.”
Sable smirked at him. “Not all of us prefer to watch our lover feed, little imp.”
Rather than look embarrassed, Doug merely returned the smirk, sliding his arm around Zach’s waist, tugging the vampire all but in his lap. “Only because yours isn’t a vampire.”
“Men,” Myra murmured from where she sat next to Phil on the large sofa.
Phil snickered. “So are you grounded now, Chris? Or are we just going to have to hire bodyguards until Mr. Protective and Possessive simmers down?”
Sable growled softly, hands tightening around his consort. “I like the sound of grounded.”
Chris smacked him. “Well, I don’t. I already said I’d stop hiding my power, you stupid demon. If you try to keep me confined—“
Sable cut him off with a kiss. “Tempting, tempting, beautiful, but I’m not over five hundred because I’m stupid.”
“Dumb luck,” Chris muttered, but didn’t protest another kiss. “It’s going to be a lot harder to do my job when I’m flouncing around as your consort. Very few of my clients are going to be comfortable with that.”
Doug snorted. “Chris, by this point everyone knows it anyway.”
“That aside, beloved,” Sable said, “that’s why you have a team of detectives. They’ll take care of the ones you make nervous.”
“That would be all of them,” Doug said.
Chris glared at him. “Watch it imp.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Doug said carelessly as he stood up and stretched. At this cue, the other stood as well, Zach sliding his hand into Doug’s, the girls walking ahead of them to kiss Chris’s cheek before they all left the room. “We’ll see you…” Doug looked briefly at Sable, obviously smothering a laugh at whatever he saw. “Sometime tomorrow.”
“Or the day after,” Sable said.
As the door closed behind them, he finally allowed himself to relax. Outside thunder rumbled in the distance but it would draw closer. The permanently inclement weather was a sign of his presence – and his affinity was for storms. “Christian,” he breathed the name against his lover’s mouth.
In a rare soft moment, Christian had told him that he thought Sable tasted like magic – he’d denied ever saying so since, of course, but Sable not had forgotten it.
The draw for him had been that strange combination of energies, sunlight-gold and midnight-black, radiating from a man that was alive but had all the powers of a spirit. He’d been soaked to the skin from a rain shower. One of his storms come to life.
Impossible to tame, but Sable had an affinity for storms. “Beloved, I am glad you are safe.”
“You would not let me be anything else, Sable.” Chris sighed, but Sable knew when his lover was fighting a smile. Deft fingers began to work on his tie, but Sable captured Chris’s hand and held him still.
“Does it truly bother you that much, beloved, to be so openly mine? I do not want you harmed again, but I will not have you so unhappy.”
Chris stared at him, surprised. “Sable…you know I’ll never be comfortable with your power. I grew up in a house that had holes in the roof and floors…it was only a few years ago that the last of the repairs were finally made. My only ability is to turn invisible – considerable but nothing like what you’ve given me. What comes so naturally to you.” He leaned in close, unconsciously seeking comfort, support. “I’m not unhappy, Sable, never that.” He tilted his head up, silently begging a kiss that Sable immediately gave.
He didn’t need to press Chris further, knowing already his lover’s thoughts – they would probably be the same for a long time. “You are my heart and soul, Christian.”
“And you are mine, Sable. Always.”
407: Wolves and Demons
Sable sat up, moving before he was entirely awake.
He woke angry. Angry about something in the dream that had driven him into consciousness, and angry that he’d also woken up feeling scared.
Shoving haphazard curls from his face, he lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Moonlight filtered in between the heavy curtains that blocked out the city lights. Scrubbing his face with his hands, displeased that he was so unsettled, Sable tried desperately to cling to the shreds of his dream, but they slipped away and left him feeling only angry, scared and restless.
Turning on his side, Sable reached out and ran his hand down Christian’s cheek, across his shoulder and down the length of his body, reassuring himself that his consort still slept soundly at his side. Realizing what he was doing, Sable snatched his hand away again and turned to climb out of bed, locating and putting on a pair of black silk pants.
A thought revived the fire as he sat down on his leather couch facing it. Though the room was cool, Sable did not feel it. Outside, beyond the windows, the city was also oddly still. The occasional ripples of abnormal power but nothing unusual. It was three in the morning. Save for a few more nocturnally inclined, the city slept. In bed, Christian was fast asleep. Only Sable seemed to be at odds with the world.
Annoyed with himself, Sable wandered to the windows and jerked the curtains back. Light spilled into the middle of the room and he gazed down at the city far below. Throughout most of it the buildings were dark. Only Sable’s hotels shone brightly, offering far more to its guests and city natives than mere room and board. From the top of the Tantalus, he could easily see the shining red lights of the Seventh Circle and the cool blue of the Seraphim. Once the three buildings had been his dearest treasures. Far more than hotels, the triad of buildings was the palace at the center of his territory. Everyone for miles around could see them. They were something to be proud of, but they were no longer his greatest joy.
“Sable?” Chris said from the bed.
He let the curtains fall shut as he turned, storm-cloud eyes easily spotting his lover in the dark. Always a breathtaking sight, his consort. His. Christian had always been beautiful, the way he radiated that strange combination of energies – palest gold mixed with purest black. Now, though, those two colors were suffused with Sable’s own silver-gray. To all demons, and those few other creatures that could sense the energies, Christian was marked brightly and loudly as belonging to Sable. “Yes, beautiful?”
“What are you doing up?”
Sable moved toward the bed, pressing Chris down before he could get up. “I woke up and could not settle. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He brushed Chris’s lips softly. “Go back to sleep.”
“Come back to bed,” Chris said in reply.
“I’m not tired,” Sable protested. “I’d just keep you awake.”
Chris smirked. “I never said anything about sleeping. And later maybe you’ll tell me why you’re upset.”
Sable laughed as Chris kissed him, allowing himself to be dragged back into bed. “As you wish, beloved.” Then proceeded to make sure Chris forgot everything but his name.
“So how long will you be gone?” Sable asked with a frown.
Chris kissed the corner of his mouth, then darted away to finish dressing. He pulled on a red t-shirt and brushed his hair. Diamonds sparkled in his ears, at complete odds with his casual appearance. “I should be back by lunch,” he said tolerantly.
“I don’t see why you have to go at all. Nor do I like it.”
“It’s just to talk to a witness.” Chris shrugged into his beat up leather coat, forestalling the protest Sable was about to make. “Just a few hours, Sable.”
Sable shook his head and dragged him close, kissing Chris hard enough to bruise his lips. “Fine. But be back by lunch. You weren’t supposed to be working today.”
“I know,” Chris said, suddenly letting his weariness show. “But its best if I do this. It shouldn’t take long.” Sable let him move away. “I’ll be back soon.” He stepped close again, reaching up to give Sable a deep kiss goodbye. “I’m sorry, Sable.”
Sable sighed. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, beloved. It’s my own problem if I don’t want to share you.”
Chris laughed. “Only my time, Sable. The rest is yours.”
“Yes, it is,” Sable said, folding his arms to keep him where he belonged a moment longer. “I’ll see you for lunch then. Try not to cause too much trouble.”
“I never cause trouble. It just finds me.” Grumbling about the sort of trouble that always found him, Chris departed.
Sighing again, never quite comfortable when his consort was away, Sable forced himself to get on with the day. Downstairs in the main lobby of the Tantalus he fell into dealing with the day to day problems of his hotels, tending to guests both normal and abnormal.
At ten o’clock one of his assistants brought him something to drink. Sable reached out to take it, but at the last moment missed. The sound of shattering glass filled the spacious lobby and startled everyone into silence. Scattered around him were broken pieces of glass and dark red juice.
Sable didn’t notice. A heartbeat later the silence was shattered by his scream. “Christian!” His terrified scream turned into one of rage. Power rippled, echoing his fury, and throughout the hotel and nearby buildings normals and weaker abnormals dropped unconscious the floor. Even several stronger abnormals fell to the ground or stopped short from sudden weakness and a heavy sense of dread.
Outside, the normally gray weather turned nasty, thunder rumbling hard enough to shake buildings, lightning splitting the sky and striking wildly, dangerously.
With a snarl Sable vanished from the hotel, rumbling thunder chasing him as he appeared at the far northwest end of his property.
Alpha Sandalio waited for him just beyond the point that Sable could go.
Sable barely noticed, eyes only for the unconscious form of his consort, his energies dimmed, barely glowing, trapped in the most complicated spellcage he’d ever seen. Too complicated. Demon level magic. Werewolves shouldn’t be capable of magic even a fifth so strong. “You will die,” he vowed. “More horribly than you can possibly imagine.”
Sandalio laughed. “Stupid, foolish, arrogant demon. What can you do to me? You can’t use your power outside your own territory.” His eyes flicked past Sable, to the four figures that had appeared with a faint ripple of imp-magic. “If the whore’s lackeys try anything, I’ll kill him.” He sneered. “Which will send you straight back to hell, demon. So don’t waste time with empty threats.”
“It was not a threat,” Sable said softly but with chilling certainty. “You will die slowly, screaming in pain and begging for mercy, and I will stand here and laugh. Only a fool would dare to mess with a demon’s consort.”
“Empty threats,” Sandalio said contemptuously. He sneered.
“What do you want?” Sable asked coldly.
“Surely you already know that,” Sandalio said. “What does everyone want from you?”
Sable relaxed slightly, lips curving in a contemptuous sneer. “As if a werewolf like you could make full use of it.”
Sandalio laughed. “You’ve got one hour, demon, to bring me the book. If you’re so much as a second late—“
“Then you’ll never get the book,” Sable interrupted, thunder overhead rippling with his words, the fine mist in the air becoming a light shower. “No one but I can take books from the case where it’s kept. If you force me back to hell, you’ll never get it. And you will suffer, make no mistake about that. Even fools do not anger demons.” With a last snarl, power rippling, Sable vanished.
He reappeared in his rooms at the top of the Tantalus, Doug and the others alongside him.
“How?” Doug asked.
Sable raked a hand through his damp hair, sparing the imp a brief look, attention solely for his consort. “I don’t know. That spellcage must have taken years of work.”
“So they’ve been plotting this for a long time. Is a book really that valuable?” Doug replied.
“Yes.” Sable stopped before a tall bookcase tucked into the corner of his office. The shelves appeared completely ordinary – until he drew close, and then even Doug winced slightly at the power which emanated forth. Sable murmured the words that deactivated the ward spells, then reached in and stroked his fingers along the spine of an old book, the leather cracked and worn, lettering faded. It warmed beneath his touch.
The Book of the Angel Raziel was what it said, or would have if the wording was still legible. Despite the age of the outside, the words inside would be near-perfect, as if they’d been penned only minutes ago. This was the book Sandalio wanted. The book more than few had wanted in the past. He’d hunted long for it, had refused to settle into a territory until he had it.
This was the book that had brought him forth, made him a slave for two hundred years, trapped in a mirror to do the bidding of the human who had managed to summon him. But most humans were foolish, and the magician had slipped up
By then, however, the book had long since gone to other hands, and too many demons had been incorrectly summoned, damaged by the process. One other demon besides himself had been summoned before Sable had finally managed to secure the book, ensure no one else could use it.
That other demon also sat on his protected bookshelves, kept company by spell books more than a few paranormals had died trying to obtain and use. Sable let go of The Book of the Angel Raziel and reached for a different book. It was made of soft, smooth as silk leather and dyed a rich, creamy color that resembled fresh butter. No words or images decorated it; it could have been anything. “Asenath,” Sable murmured softly, “this may finally be your chance. I’m sorry for it, but there’s no other choice.” Beneath his fingertips the book seemed to thrum, vibrate, and from the center of the cover ink seemed to spread like blood from a fresh wound, soaking the book until it looked as though Sable held The Book of the Angel Raziel.
Holding the book lightly, Sable turned back to the rest of the room. Patiently, though obviously that patience had long ago worn thin, faces strained with worry, confusion, Doug, Zack, Myra and Phil all waited for him to explain what was going on, and why their lead detective was currently being held by werewolves. “Myra,” he said, addressing the werewolf who was the latest to be adopted into Christian’s detective agency, “if there’s anyone is Sandalio’s immediate pack you would prefer live, you had best figure out soon how to warn him.”
“The only wolf I cared about it dead,” Myra said flatly, her cold expression at complete odds with her delicate, pretty features. Dressed in a pale blue sweater and flared jeans, black boots, hair loosely gathered, she looked gentle, like a school teacher or as though she should be serving tea. But the hard lines set into her face as she spoke of her former pack betrayed her werewolf blood. “Sandalio has hurt Chris, and in so doing angered a demon; let him suffer the consequences. Merely leave those who had no part in this alone.”
Phil shuddered beside her, hugging Jester tight. “I like it better when we all we have to do was figure out who stole what and why. Is Chris going to be okay?” She buried her face as Jester chattered at her, his rainbow wings fluttering. “Demon-loved hurting,” she whispered, repeating Jester’s words to her.
“Not for long,” Sable said, voice filled with grim promise. “Werewolves should learn to do their homework. Raziel is not the only book I own.” He looked at them. “You are to stay here. Once I set this book loose, there is no controlling it. Beyond that, the sight will not be a pleasant one.” Sandalio should never have hurt Christian. “Stay here. You will know when Christian is safe.” With that he vanished.
He reappeared at the edge of his territory, Sandalio and his wolves looking as though they had not moved so much as an inch since his departure. “Here you are,” Sable said, and tossed the book to them.
Sandalio bared his teeth in a vicious, triumphant smile and motioned for one of his wolves, a cruel looking half-breed with dark fur and large, filthy teeth, to fetch the book. His face was expressionless as Sandalio sent a wolf to retrieve it He watched as the wolf gripped the book. “Asenath,” he said softly. “Your binding I break. Fulfill the strictures of the spell cast upon you.”
A moment later the screaming began.
What had been a book was now a strange, monstrous specter – a shadow given solidity, teeth and claws flashing as it attacked the wolves, devoured them piece by piece, oblivious to the blood and screams, working with eerie, silent efficiency.
Sable watched impassively, unmoved by the massacre.
After a few minutes, he cast his eyes about, searching for and immediately finding Sandalio at the far edge of the field, unable to go anywhere as the wolf in him went crazy at the smell of so much blood and death. He watched as a blood-crazed Sandalio attacked the specter – and laughed loudly as the specter won, devouring the Alpha whole.
Sable laughed.
Everything seemed to still for a moment; even the air itself seemed to stop moving. Then the specter began to glow – faintly at first merely fading from black to gray, but then it began to glow bright white, then to a burning, brilliant gold that spread out and overtook the field, drowning everything out. Brighter and brighter the light flared, blinding in its intensity – then went out.
No sign of violence remained. Only a green field, the midday sun high above.
In the center of the field stood a tall man, so slender he was bony, not a spare ounce of fat anywhere on his frame. His skin was fair, as if the last of his tan was just fading away. He wore loose jeans and a tight, dark blue polo, a gold chain gleaming at his throat. His hair was blonde, as pale and rich in color as fresh butter, falling to his waist. Eyes the color of a setting sun fastened on Sable, and slowly he began to cross the field, Christian cradled in his arms.
“Cadfael,” the man said quietly, and gently handed Christian over. “Thank you.”
Sable bowed his head. “It is good to see you free, Asenath.”
“It is good to be free,” Asenath said. “I will be taking over the wolf territories, and will bring them under control. Take your consort home, demon of storms. We will speak later.”
“Later,” Sable agreed. He vanished, Chris held close.
“Please tell me my head hurts this much because I got drunk,” Chris said with a groan as he slowly sat up.
Sable turned sharply from where he was standing in front of the floor-length windows that ran most the length of his bedroom and strode over to the bed, sitting down beside Chris and kissing him hard. “Christian,” he breathed when he finally stopped.
“Not because I got drunk then,” Chris finally said, and leaned forward to rest against Sable, wrapping arms tightly around his waist. “What happened? I remember going to the arranged meeting place, and I was on my way back when I saw Sandalio…” He shook his head. “Then I felt a lot of pain, like someone had ripped my spine out or something.” He shuddered at the memory. “What happened?”
Sable ducked his head to nuzzle at Chris’s bare throat and shoulder, breathing in the smell of his consort, tasting his skin, reveling in the energies that were slowly returning to full strength, his own silver-gray stronger than ever. “Sandalio trapped you in a spellcage.” He turned Chris’ head up and kissed him, stroked his cheek. “Just outside my reach.”
“Why?” Chris asked, blue eyes dark with anger and fear as the full reality of what Sandalio had done washed over him. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, beloved, now that you’re back where you belong.” Sable kissed him again, then shifted, pressing Chris back down into bed, looming over him. “He wanted one of my books.”
“To gain more power for his wolves?” Chris asked, though he knew the answer. He reached up and dragged Sable down, curling up against him, tangled in the silk sheets. “I’m sorry, Sable.”
Sable nipped at his throat, hand searching out skin beneath the silk. “That is why I always press you not to bank your power, beloved.”
“I know,” Chris said. “I’m sorry. What did you do to them?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Chris glared. “Sable.”
“They shouldn’t have hurt you,” Sable said, eyes flashing like lightning. “It was only Sandalio and his closest – not more than a couple dozen vile werewolves that did the pack more harm than good.” His frown deepened as Chris only stared at him. “I’m a demon, Christian. They should not have harmed you.”
“I’m your consort,” Chris replied, pulling away and sitting up. “Getting hurt comes with that position.”
Sable yanked him back, holding him close, taking his mouth and kissing him hard, fingers holding tight enough to leave bruises. “You’re mine. No one hurts you. If Sandalio wanted the book, he should have stuck to form and not attempted to threaten me by hurting you.”
“Sable…” Chris said softly, burying his face against the demon’s chest. He looked up a minute later, blue eyes dark. “This is why I didn’t want to do it, Sable. I don’t want to know that something as stupid as putting me in a spellcage could kill you. You’re mine too, you know. I don’t want you hurt because of me.”
“And I told you to shut up, as I recall,” Sable said with a rare soft smile.
Chris looked disgruntled at the memory. “Yes. Bastard. No more mindless murdering just because I’m an idiot, all right, Sable?”
Sable sighed. “Whatever you want, beloved. Though if you want to avoid something like that again—”
“Stop banking my power, I know,” Chris said with a sigh of his own. “I just don’t…” He sighed again.
“I believe I told you to shut up then, too,” Sable said with his more familiar smirk.
Chris thumped his chest hard, sitting up and glaring at Sable, batting away his hands. “Shut up yourself. It isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not. Use the power I’ve given you, Christian. The power that’s rightfully yours as my consort. Then they won’t get to you nearly as easily, which means they won’t get to me as easily.”
“That’s not playing fair,” Chris complained.
Sable laughed. “All’s fair in love and war, isn’t that how the saying goes?”
“Shut up.” Chris sighed and laid back down, curling around Sable. “So explain everything to me.”
“Later, beautiful,” Sable replied, moving so that Chris was once more pinned beneath him, leaning down to take a hard kiss.
“Cadfael.”
Sable bowed his head. “Asenath. You are looking well.”
Asenath laughed, the sound sour, and swept loose strands of his fine blonde hair from his face, yellow eyes landing on Chris. “Cadfael’s consort. You look much healthier than when I first saw you.”
“My thanks to you for that, Asenath,” Chris said, bowing his head.
“Alain,” Asenath said. “That’s my name now. Alain Townsend.” He motioned to the land all around him. “I’ll be taking over the territories claimed by the wolf packs. I’ll bring them to heel, and they’ll cause you no more trouble.” His sunbright eyes gleamed, ensuring the words were not idle. “Thank you, Cadfael, for helping me break free.”
“I owed you one, as I recalled. I am glad you are free of the spell. And you can call me Sable.”
Chris tilted his head, looking curiously at Alain. “What were the conditions of the spell?”
“To devour five thousand abnormals,” Alain said, expression as downcast as a cloudy sky. “The man who imprisoned me hated them all; he wanted to add more to the stricture, but he had not the strength. Five thousand was the most he could manage.”
Sable grunted. “The wolves listen to you?”
“Yes. I have staked a claim on Third Candidate Grey. As he is the only Candidate still living, that makes him Alpha.” Alain licked his lips, eyes gleaming. “Through him, I’ll keep order. The wolves suit me.”
“And Grey?” Sable asked, storm cloud eyes regarding the other demon thoughtfully.
Alain smirked. “He is mine.”
“There’s a tone and statement I recognize,” Chris said dryly.
Sable chuckled and reached out to drag Chris close. “You dislike the tone, beautiful?”
“Only the insufferable arrogance behind it,” Chris retorted.
“I know very well you like the arrogance,” Sable said softly in his ear, nipping hard at his lobe. His eyes flicked back to Alain. “Go play with your wolves. I will send Christian to see you in a few days time. Thank you again for your help.”
“You gave me a chance to set myself free,” Alain replied. “I feel I still owe you a debt.”
“Bring the wolves to heel,” Sable said. “Farewell, Alain.”
“Farewell, Sable. Christian.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “What is it with demons insisting on using my whole name? Call me Chris.”
Alain smiled briefly and nodded, then with a short bow – one of those odd mannerisms demons always seemed to carry – he vanished.
Sable and Chris vanished in the next moment, appearing in Sable’s rooms.
In the sitting area, Chris’s team waited impatiently.
All four had touches of Chris’s own stranger energies – most especially Douglas, who was very much Chris’s protégé. Even Myra had begun to take on hints of Chris in her mix of tame and wild energies, somehow blending smoothly into the rest of the team, adding her own unique skills to the strange group of detectives.
The strangest of the group was perhaps Phil – she bore little resemblance to the girl she’d been when first possessed by a demon. Very little, if anything, remained of the spoiled brat Sable vaguely recalled.
Zach too seemed to be flourishing as a paranormal detective, and if his peers had been giving him any trouble in that respect – the DeLovelys had not mentioned it. His mixture was the oddest – the cool colors of the vampires mixed with the warmer colors of Douglas, touches of Chris’s dark and bright energies.
Unique energies everywhere, infinitely appealing.
None was more appealing, more perfect, than the gold and black of Christian saturated with his own silver-gray.
Already he was ready to be alone, to have what his consort to himself. He detested sharing.
Chris seemed to sense his mood, breaking away from his team and coming toward him. “You look like a thundercloud.”
“Appropriate,” Sable murmured, leaning down to steal a kiss. “Is everyone assured of your safety?”
Doug laughed from the far side of the room. “Demons.”
Sable smirked at him. “Not all of us prefer to watch our lover feed, little imp.”
Rather than look embarrassed, Doug merely returned the smirk, sliding his arm around Zach’s waist, tugging the vampire all but in his lap. “Only because yours isn’t a vampire.”
“Men,” Myra murmured from where she sat next to Phil on the large sofa.
Phil snickered. “So are you grounded now, Chris? Or are we just going to have to hire bodyguards until Mr. Protective and Possessive simmers down?”
Sable growled softly, hands tightening around his consort. “I like the sound of grounded.”
Chris smacked him. “Well, I don’t. I already said I’d stop hiding my power, you stupid demon. If you try to keep me confined—“
Sable cut him off with a kiss. “Tempting, tempting, beautiful, but I’m not over five hundred because I’m stupid.”
“Dumb luck,” Chris muttered, but didn’t protest another kiss. “It’s going to be a lot harder to do my job when I’m flouncing around as your consort. Very few of my clients are going to be comfortable with that.”
Doug snorted. “Chris, by this point everyone knows it anyway.”
“That aside, beloved,” Sable said, “that’s why you have a team of detectives. They’ll take care of the ones you make nervous.”
“That would be all of them,” Doug said.
Chris glared at him. “Watch it imp.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Doug said carelessly as he stood up and stretched. At this cue, the other stood as well, Zach sliding his hand into Doug’s, the girls walking ahead of them to kiss Chris’s cheek before they all left the room. “We’ll see you…” Doug looked briefly at Sable, obviously smothering a laugh at whatever he saw. “Sometime tomorrow.”
“Or the day after,” Sable said.
As the door closed behind them, he finally allowed himself to relax. Outside thunder rumbled in the distance but it would draw closer. The permanently inclement weather was a sign of his presence – and his affinity was for storms. “Christian,” he breathed the name against his lover’s mouth.
In a rare soft moment, Christian had told him that he thought Sable tasted like magic – he’d denied ever saying so since, of course, but Sable not had forgotten it.
The draw for him had been that strange combination of energies, sunlight-gold and midnight-black, radiating from a man that was alive but had all the powers of a spirit. He’d been soaked to the skin from a rain shower. One of his storms come to life.
Impossible to tame, but Sable had an affinity for storms. “Beloved, I am glad you are safe.”
“You would not let me be anything else, Sable.” Chris sighed, but Sable knew when his lover was fighting a smile. Deft fingers began to work on his tie, but Sable captured Chris’s hand and held him still.
“Does it truly bother you that much, beloved, to be so openly mine? I do not want you harmed again, but I will not have you so unhappy.”
Chris stared at him, surprised. “Sable…you know I’ll never be comfortable with your power. I grew up in a house that had holes in the roof and floors…it was only a few years ago that the last of the repairs were finally made. My only ability is to turn invisible – considerable but nothing like what you’ve given me. What comes so naturally to you.” He leaned in close, unconsciously seeking comfort, support. “I’m not unhappy, Sable, never that.” He tilted his head up, silently begging a kiss that Sable immediately gave.
He didn’t need to press Chris further, knowing already his lover’s thoughts – they would probably be the same for a long time. “You are my heart and soul, Christian.”
“And you are mine, Sable. Always.”
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Date: 2007-01-28 04:42 pm (UTC)I LOVED seeing Sable's POV. You don't write from his perspective a lot, and I like that through him, it's a little easier to understand the whole consort business and to see how absolutely in love with Chris he is. (Not that there was any doubt, mind. ;3 But, it's easier to see that the protective and posessiveness is a direct result of the fact that Chris means the world to him.)
I love the talk about the magical energies and what they looked like/felt like and how Chris had influenced his detective team and how they all kind of bled into each other. What a great way to really illustrate how they're connected and how they're family. *tackle glomps* I just really liked that touch.
*________* And Alain! He's pretty. *tackle glomps him* The poor guy though, having to do that. I like too, that Sable used him to get rid of abnormals who needed to be gotten rid of. And he's already found a consort, hmm. *____________*
You rock the world. *hearts* And I so adore this 'verse. *twirls you about* ^___________________^!!!
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Date: 2007-01-28 04:48 pm (UTC)You're the sweetest and coolest person alive, Sky. Your reviews always leave me beaming and determined to keep trying.
Writing from Sable's POV is fun. Mmm, possessive demon.
I have bits of the story for Alain and his consort types out, just need to write the rest of it ^^;
<3
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Date: 2007-01-28 05:08 pm (UTC)Will we get a story about Alain and Grey? That would be nice...with special guest appearances from Sable and Christian, of course. ^_^
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Date: 2007-01-28 05:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 08:42 pm (UTC)Just a couple of things?
...to have what his consort to himself...
I think there is a word missing in there somewhere. Either that, or the "what" should not be there.
“I’m not unhappy, Sable, never that.”
It might make more sense if you add "but" before that sentence. The whole first half of the paragraph is an explanation, the word "but" would tie the comment into the rest of the paragraph. Otherwise it makes no sense.
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Date: 2007-01-28 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 09:11 pm (UTC)None was more appealing, more perfect, than the gold and black of Christian saturated with his own silver-gray.
And I loved seeing Chris' assistants from Sable's point of view. that was lovely like the entire thing was lovely. Quite a fitting ending, especially with the blood and violent end of the less-than-brilliant werewolf to tie that little feud off. And of course, another demon in the neighborhood (and I really liked that they took human names, instead of coming with them, which may seem like a little, simple obvious thing but it was really cool to me ^__^;;).
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Date: 2007-01-28 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 02:46 am (UTC)I saw it on your site a few days ago, so this wasn't new to me, but because I'm that sort of person, re-reading is always one of my utmost favorite things to do. And how could I say no to re-reading Sable? ^_^ I loved it utterly and completely.
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Date: 2007-01-29 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 02:08 pm (UTC)Also, you never DID tell me what happened with the demon and the wolf. :O
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Date: 2007-01-29 04:05 pm (UTC)Sable's pov was a wonderful treat. He is such the 'Demon,' you know. This big powerful being that we shouldn't be allowed to have any contact with, and yet we get to be in his brain, and see his love and his fear and his compassion. And his anger, and righteous wrath. And his little bit of insecurity. Just beautiful.
So, now to look forward to the illustrated print version. ^_~ And more dragon stories, and Alain and Grey stories. I love this universe. *happy sigh* I'm so glad you seem to enjoy playing in it, too.^^
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Date: 2007-01-29 10:15 pm (UTC)Also, I have a question (and this doesn't pertain to the story, actually). If Sable could see the auras of magic around Chris, Doug, Phil, etc., then why didn't he see that Phil was possessed in the first place? Did the possessing demon hide that well? Or did he see it and just not care?