The Sage Part III

[maderr]

Part I & II here.

NWS

I really need an icon for this story.



Part III: Ling


"Somebody get that cat out of here! Whose is it?"

"Probably belongs to a guest." Crossing the lobby, the hotel clerk bent to scoop up the cat standing just outside the police tape, peering at the bloodstains not yet removed from the dining room on the other side.

The cat dodged, turning and sprinting out the front doors and vanishing into the parking lot, slowing down as he reached a sleek black sports car. The passenger door opened and the cat leapt neatly inside. It purred as long fingers reached out to pet and stroke, sliding through his fur with familiar ease.

"So what did you learn, pretty little kitty mine?"

Ling batted playfully at his hand, then shifted back, stretching out with a long groan. Fingers slid across the bit of his stomach bared as the stretching pulled up his t-shirt. "Stop that," he said absently.

"No," Astor said with a grin, but he left off and slid his sunglasses on, then started his car and drove from the parking lot.

"They were definitely sorcerers," Ling said. "Benevolent. There wasn't a scrap of malice or dark magic in their room. Not so much as a hint of a dirty thought, let alone a dark one." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a leather thong. On it was a small jade pendant marked with magic symbols only they could see.

Astor hissed in dismay. "They were acolytes…and so close to finding the Sage they sought. Damn it."

Ling nodded in agreement. "Found it behind the nightstand. I think I was supposed to find it. Someone is toying with us."

"So it would seem. We should see if Shannon can get anything off the pendant."

"Yeah," Ling said, pulling his phone out. It rang once. "Shannon, got something for you from those murders. Hoping you can get something off it." He nodded as Shannon explained what to do. "Yes."

Disconnecting, he immediately took a picture of the pendant and sent it to Shannon. A minute later he accepted a text, shaking his head as Shannon's spells went to work. "He makes it look so simple."

Astor grinned. "I'm definitely glad Dragon is one of us."

Ling's phone rang before he could reply, though he agreed completely. "Get anything?" He made a face, nodding. "All right. Thank you, Shannon." He snapped his phone shut. "Nothing terribly useful, unfortunately. Whichever one of them wore the pendant, he's had it all his life. Protective spells, which we could already sense, but not enough to stop whoever killed them. It also didn't pick up any trace of whoever did this."

"Definitely left as a taunt then," Astor said grimly. "The bastard left just enough to clue us in, but not enough to tell us anything important. Doesn't bode well, given the Alchemist and the Monk have both made their opening moves."

"Yes," Ling said quietly. "Given the nature of the murders, and the way in which we are being played with…this is the Huntsman."

Fingers slid across his cheek, and Ling turned in to the gentle touch. "Look on the bright side," Astor said. "He attacked outside the city, which means he can't get into it."

"Yet," Ling said grimly, missing Astor's touch as he pulled away to shift gears. "I hope it stays that way."

"The only weak spot is the train station," Astor said, "and Dylan says they've nearly got that fixed, and will move more quickly now that these murders have appeared. The Sage is still safe, and that's the only thing that matters."

Ling nodded. "I know. Let's go get some food."

Astor nodded. "What do you want to eat?" He leered.

"Pervert," Ling replied, smiling. "Italian. My mother hates when I eat Italian, and I'm still mad at her for making me work all last night because she couldn't take it out on big brother."

"Poor Chang," Astor said with a laugh.

Ling rolled his eyes. "Given the way he's always harassing me about you, when he's now acting the exact same way over the Sage, I hope mother flays him alive."

Astor grinned. "So we're doing Italian. Did you want any Italian or good Italian?"

Leaning across the space between them, Ling curled one hand over Astor's thigh, biting lightly at Astor's arm. "Give me good Italian and I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh, really?" Astor asked, and turned as they stopped at a light, taking his mouth in a hard kiss that tasted as only Astor could – of fire and smoke, heat and sunlight. From the moment he'd first met his big brother's friend he'd been enthralled, enamored. The day he'd realized his feelings weren't one-sided had been the happiest of his life.

The light changed but they didn't move; the street was utterly deserted, no one to honk or shout – then his phone rang. Swearing, Ling broke the kiss and looked at his phone, then mashed the accept button. "What?" he snapped. His eyes widened as he listened to the reply, and he fumbled for the talisman as he rolled down the window—

Glass exploded as the windshield shattered, and he heard Astor scream in pain. As much as he wanted, Ling didn't turn to look. Instead he shoved hard, getting the car door open and throwing himself out onto the street, snarling in rage as he stood.

He immediately threw himself back down.

The scent of blood filled the air and Ling tamped down on his rage only with an effort.

A cold chuckle washed over him, and he looked cautiously over the hood at the man walking toward them – closest to Astor, who was still vulnerable on the other side of the car.

The man walking toward them was about thirty or so in appearance, clean shaven and with a cowboy hat shadowing most of his face. Only a sharply chiseled jaw and a smirking mouth were clearly visible. He held a nasty-looking crossbow, and the closer he got the more Ling could feel the enchantments laid into it.

He growled low as Astor hissed in pain. The Huntsman must have gotten him with a near-perfect shot, if Astor was in such great agony. Ling gave up any thought of fighting fair, and with a snarl of rage he threw himself up and over the car as he shifted.

Growling, he padded to stand protectively in front of Astor. In his holy form he was nearly the size of the car, brilliant white fur broken by midnight stripes, all but crackling with power and rage. He growled again and tensed to spring as the Huntsman continued to approach.

"Mmm, yes, that's the prey I want," the Huntsman said, the deep southern drawl at odds with the cold tone, the hard gleam in his green eyes before they were once again shadowed by the brim of his dark hat. "Here, kitty, kitty."

Ling lunged – to the side, rather than forward as the Huntsman had clearly expected, then sprang toward him, snarling in fury when the Huntsman managed to twist out of the way. An arrow, soaked in magic for accuracy and pain, just barely missed him and Ling attacked with renewed fervor.

Back and forth they struggled, neither gaining or losing ground, brutally drawing even. When a sharp, piercing cry broke through his growls, his fur was matted with blood and the Huntsman bore a nasty would down his chest.

Flames bathed him, hotter than it seemed he could bear – but rather than inflicting pain, the fire took all the pain away. For a moment he could feel nothing at all, and the world returned only slowly, one little piece at a time.

When he could see again, the world seemed unaccountably dull. He blinked and shook his head, trying to get the world back to rights. Slowly he lifted his head and took in Astor, bright and beautiful and shining. Little wonder everything else seemed dull, when it had to compete with the breathtaking plumage of the Phoenix.

Astor cried out again, flexing his wings, embers flying out, a single delicate feather of flame fluttering to the ground.

Padding to the tree in which Astor was perched, Ling sat on his haunches and growled up at his pretty bird. Of the Huntsman there was no sign – likely he had retreated when he realized he was not up against one as he had thought.

In the next moment, though, Ling cried out in fear as his bird abruptly toppled from the tree, shifting as he hit the ground. Ling shifted back himself and bundled Astor close, not liking the pallor to his face or the way he trembled – and his arm was still bleeding, a crossbow bolt lodged in it. Clearly Astor had used all his power to drive the Huntsman back and help Ling protect against him, but he had failed somehow to heal himself.

Likely he'd not had the strength for everything.

Swearing, Ling pulled out his phone and mashed a special button put there by Shannon, then held tightly to Astor and waited.

He growled low, thinking of the man who had done this. If the fighting had continued…it likely would not have ended well. Waiting was over; the enemy was obviously ready to start playing. The attack had been a nasty surprise; they should have been more prepared.

They'd be more prepared next time, and the Huntsman would not be so fortunate as to get away. No, his destined foe had earned himself only a brutal death by harming Astor.

"Mother is beginning to worry about you."

Ling rolled his eyes. "Mother is worried about getting all the dishes done without having to pay someone," he retorted. "I'm not leaving."

His big brother rolled his eyes. "You cannot keep doing this, little brother. Astor will wake up soon; he's simply exhausted. I healed him well enough, he just needs rest." Ling didn't look up as Chang sat down. "I'm glad you're both all right."

"Thank you, big brother. Is the Sage safe?"

"As safe as he can be," Chang replied. "You should get something to eat – and call mother. I can only keep lying about your whereabouts for so long."

"I don't care," Ling said.

Chang sighed, his way of conveying understanding and agreement. "At least eat, idiot," he said gruffly. "Knowing Astor, you'll need the energy when he wakes up." He glared at the sleeping figure on the bed. "The moron."

Ling snickered. For all that his big brother fussed and snarled, if not for his gentle assistance and guidance, Ling would not currently be with Astor. "How go the fortifications?" he asked, reluctantly switching to business.

"Complete," Chang replied. "Shannon and Dylan finally figured out the problem with the train station. A bad combination of energies; there was a skeleton at the apex of where their spells always fell apart, buried pretty deep. A worker from the original construction, they surmised. There were old, old spells cast on the corpse, which means…"

"Someone knew long before the rest of us that this would become the home of the Sage," Ling said quietly.

His brother nodded.

The ability to foresee the future was the realm of only one; he who had chosen to give over his soul for power no mortal should have. Destined foe of the Qilin, the Seer.

"At least he could do no more than this," Chang said at last. "If he had managed to fully corrupt our city…but perhaps there is something else he has foreseen. I shudder to think."

Ling shook his head. "He who foretells the future is like a man who is too fond of staring at his reflection."

Chang grunted.

They sat in companionable silence. Never had they really needed to say much between them; for as long as he could remember it had been the two of them despite the six years that separated them. Perhaps because he had so long ago discovered his big brother's secrets, which had woken his own. Astor, Shannon, Dylan – all hid from their families and the few friends they might have. He and big brother also hid, but at least they'd had each other before realizing Astor was part of it.

"I'm going back to Gage," Chang said at last. "Let us know when the idiot wakes up, and smack him for me. One of these days…" He shook his head and stood up, departing without further comment.

Ling smiled fondly at the closed door, then moved to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, he lightly stroked Astor's hair and face, bare throat and chest. "Stupid featherhead," he said softly. As big brother had said, Astor was fine. Healing his wounds had been a simple matter for the Qilin.

Gage had stood quietly by, pale-faced but an underlying strength and newly woken determination born of his steadily growing knowledge of the world he had so recently joined. Coached and encouraged – and loved – by his Qilin, Gage was already shaping up to be the Sage that was his destiny.

The very last thing the enemy wanted, and if they had launched this latest attack…

His gentle caresses halted as Astor shifted, eyes fluttering slowly open – they blazed, inhumanly bright, though Astor must at the very least be exhausted, if not still in some pain. The bolt had done far more than merely wound his arm; curses for prolonged agony, poison…the Huntsman was nasty. Though it was a poisoning thought, bad for his energies and life, Ling could not wait to kill him.

"Astor," he said, smiling in no small relief. "You're awake. I was worried about you, pretty bird."

Astor returned the smile and reached up to lightly stroke his cheek. "You worry too much, pretty kitty. I couldn't let him turn you into sweet & sour chicken or fiddle strings."

Ling rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss him. Astor's lips against his own, hot and familiar, eased the last of his worry. "Heal yourself next time, idiot." He sat back up and then smacked Astor hard on the chest, enough to leave his hand print in livid red against the tanned skin.

"Ow!" Astor exclaimed, rubbing the spot and glaring at him. "You don't have to do what Chang says, you know."

"He's my big brother, of course I do."

Astor rolled his eyes.

Ling gently pet the red spot, fingers lingering. "Hungry? Thirsty?"

"Yes," Astor replied – then grabbed him and twisted.

When the world held still again, it was Ling's turn to glare at Astor. "Idiot," he said, reprimanding the man now straddling him, bright hair mussed and everywhere, eyes blazing, and his skin was nearly too hot to touch. "Bird."

"Cat," Astor replied, the simple word a caress. He leaned down and took Ling's mouth, kissing him hard and deep – hot, so hot, always the Phoenix burned. For years, Ling knew, his parents and doctors had struggled to figure out why his body temperature was so frighteningly high…but otherwise Astor was always in eerily perfect health, and eventually they'd left him in peace.

By the time they moved to the city and he'd met Chang, his parents had accepted their son was literally hot and let it be. Ling, from the first, had felt hot around Astor for entirely different reasons.

Such as the ones that now made him groan and wish he were not wearing so many clothes. He feared and dreaded the day his parents discovered the things he did with Astor, the things he felt for Astor – but he would rather lose everything else and keep only this than give it up for a second. He protected the Sage because it was his destiny, but also because that same destiny had brought him Astor.

With another moan he dragged Astor closer still, shivering at the fire of him, digging his blunt nails into bare shoulders, hips thrusting as best they could.

"Always so eager," Astor said with a chuckle as he broke the kiss to taste elsewhere, fingers slipping with familiar ease beneath Ling's shirt, tugging it up, and Ling lifted up just enough to get it off entirely, then wrapped his arms around Astor and dragged him back down, groaning at the contact, better but not enough.

Ling laughed roughly as Astor fondled him through his jeans. "Anyone not eager wouldn't be able to keep up with you."

Astor smirked. "Even that first night, I think I was working just to keep up with you."

"I was eighteen," Lind said hotly, "and had been crushing for a ridiculously long time. Now shut up and fuck me or you're going back to bed with one of my mother's healing tonics."

Eyes widening in comical horror, Astor nodded fervently. "Fucking it is; I think I'd rather turn celibate than ever drink another one of those ancient Chinese home remedies."

"Population in the billions for a reason," Ling muttered, tugging him back down for a kiss.

Astor snickered. "Yeah, eager Chinamen who have no interest in celibacy."

"Shut up," Ling said, exasperated, doing some groping of his own, making Astor buck and finally shut up.

Mm, yes, there were his hot kisses. Ling left off groping to cling, writhing and pushing, thoroughly annoyed they hadn't bothered yet to remove pants.

But in the next moment Astor tore away to take care of that very problem, then Ling was covered by nothing but his phoenix, hot and eager and talented, hands knowing where to touch to provoke or soothe, how to elicit all manner of unseemly noises.

Ling let him, a cat perfectly content to be petted by a phoenix who loved to consume. Heat slid against hit, lust leaving wet trails on his stomach, his muscles tight and trembling for the release Astor would not yet give him.

"Bird," he gasped out, choking on a more unseemly shout as Astor reached down to stroke and fondle, hand firm around his cock before teasing at his balls, slipping behind them to press at his interest.

He snarled in aggravation when Astor abruptly withdrew, glaring at the chuckle his protest elicited. Before he could begin hurling threats, however, Astor was back. His fingers were cool and slick as they once more breached him and Ling's head fell back on a long moan.

A hot mouth bit his throat, tongue lapping away the sting as one finger became two inside him. Ling rode them unabashedly, needing Astor more than he needed air.

"Pretty kitty cat," Astor murmured before taking his mouth in a thorough kiss. Then the fingers were gone and Astor was pressing inside. Ling gasped at the stretch, the burn, but only spread his legs wider, wrapped them around Astor to pull his lover closer, deeper.

Astor wasted no time, moving quickly into a driving pace, pulling out to shove back in, each thrust pulling a cry from Ling. Hot, he could feel sweat everywhere, making skin too slick to grip, the sheets damp beneath him, and Ling wondered that nothing had caught fire or simply melted away.

He took a kiss as he tightened, shuddered, forcing his shouts into Astor's mouth as he came, swallowing Astor's cries in his turn as wet heat filled him.

Their pants were loud in the room that now seemed suddenly too quiet. Sweat cooled on their bodies, and while it should have been unpleasant Ling was long used to it – where there was Astor, there was heat and sweat. "I'm pretty sure," he said after a few more minutes had passed, "that after serious injury you're not supposed to go straight into strenuous activity."

Astor laughed softly and moved, rolling onto his back and tugging Ling to lie on top of him, lazily petting his back, fingers lightly moving over his ass. "Sex fixes everything, and as much as that dumb Huntsman might want you – you're mine."

Ling snorted. "He wants my head for his wall. You just want me to give you head. Totally different things."

"Mmm, good idea," Astor said, taking slow, lazy kisses, as though enjoying a favorite treat. "Before or after our shower?"

"You're hopeless," Ling retorted. "We do need to get showered, then we've got work to do."

Astor nodded. "Maybe during then."

Ling rolled his eyes and reluctantly disentangled himself from Astor. "Come on, bird brain."

"Yes, kitty," Astor replied, and obediently stood up.

And likely they would play a bit more, because who knew when next they would be able, or if any of them would live when this was all over? The Huntsman had made the first strike…and he had been playing with them, really.

Ling scowled as he grabbed towels and headed for the door. If the Huntsman wanted to play, then Ling would play – like a cat with a mouse.