Date: Tue, 31 Jan 2006 11:48:20 +0800
From: paul sung <psun@hotmail.com>
Subject: Magic 3

DISCLAIMER
==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2005 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:

- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ
ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ
ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ
ON.

And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to
psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit
my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002

The situation was bad and I didn't know how we'd managed to get ourselves
in such a fucked up mess. Barely a week since he'd come stomping onto my
grounds with his crazy demands and here we were one week later dealing
with the repercussions. "This has got to end. I can't go on like this."

His gaze swung to me, brilliantly green in their intensity. "Hey, what
about me? You think this has been a fucking picnic for me?"

"Fine. Have it your way." I amended my sentence. "We can't go on like
this."

"Got that right, baby." Utterly unrepentant, the devil himself grinned at
me, flashing his perfect pearly whites with the sharp canines just a
shade too prominent in his wicked smile. After a silent pause, he
continued unabashedly. "We certainly can't go on like that."

"Back in Black Falls, you promised me things would be different," I
griped quietly. Contrary to what some sorcerers would say, it certainly
wasn't in my nature to complain incessantly since it brought to mind
disturbing images of my late Aunt Hester but the situation he'd just
dragged me into was intolerable. If I had only known that things would
turn bad so quickly, I would have stayed back home in Black Falls
instead.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch, that's what all you witches are good for." The
reply was just typical of him, and his well-known dislike of witches in
general. His hands clenched into bunched-up fists as he eyed me through
the edge of his narrowed eyes. There was a glint of growing frustration
amidst the clear vivid green and I knew it wouldn't take much for his
control to snap. He hadn't asked to be in this situation either but the
fact didn't make it any easier for me to swallow.

"Saying that will get you nowhere with me," I warned him, utterly
unafraid of the fact that he was bigger, stronger and at the moment,
understandably meaner. Even without his full lupine strength, he could
easily tear me apart with his bare hands but I was simply on a roll and
nothing could stop me. When I was in one of my moods, Aunt Hester would
call it the devil taking control of me as usual. "I'm already mad enough
at you as it is without you casting vile aspersions on the witches."

"You're blaming it on me? What the bloody fuck!" Drawing back from me, he
stared back at me, looking almost insulted at the accusation flung at
him. The familiar eyes turned a shade greener, as impossible as it might
sound. "You think I planned all this? Hell, I never meant things to turn
to shit like that!"

I could just imagine what Aunt Hester would think of the man I'd chosen.
All nasty attitude, mean temper and foul language - a little toned down
for my sake but still. Certainly nothing like the cookie-cutter suburban
witches she'd been shoving my way. No doubt Aunt Hester would have placed
a hex on him. That cheery thought had me smiling in spite of the fact
that I had been inadvertently trapped in this situation with him. "You
know what, you deserve I should just leave you here."

"Calling it quits so easily?" Leaning back against the crate, he chuckled
softly in dismissal of my complaints. "Nah, you wouldn't. You're too much
of a bleeding samaritan to abandon me here." He finally released a sigh.
"You know what, let's get rid of the prickless bastard. There's only one
left and he's getting on my motherfucking nerves."

It would have been churlish of me to disagree when I'd been thinking the
same some time since. I brought a hand to my cheek, catching a drop of
blood. "You're right. I think I just got a splinter."

"What?" His smile turned wolfish. "Hell, he should be drawn and
quartered!"

Fireballs rained around us causing sparks to dance around us, there were
crates in flickering flames all around us and a thick smog had started
swirling around us, and yet here I was hiding behind a stack of crates in
an abandoned warehouse in Manhattan. A far cry for a mild-mannered
bookstore owner from Black Falls. I sold the latest bestsellers, homemade
candles and the occasional antique. What did I know of the secretive
Cabal and their Machiavellian machinations? What did I know of slick city
lawyers who turned into ravenous beasts of the night when the moon was
full? What did I know of crazed, homicidal demons shooting fire from
their upraised fingers?

Practically nothing. And yet here I was with my back against a crate with
the Cabal enforcer beside me, an unconscious telekinetic on the floor and
a rampaging fire demon tearing up the warehouse barely ten feet away. To
my relief, Clayton wasn't exactly baying at the moon yet but I wouldn't
put it beyond him to try. It was slick business suits all the way when
I'd known him in the hospital but that had changed once he'd come over to
Black Falls. The man's odd, and surprising, penchant for casual T-shirts
with slogans had him wearing one with the words Wild Thing haphazardly
emblazoned in red on a field of black. Surprising - and almost touchingly
apt.

Still in the guise of the sexy pretty boy, he hadn't changed into
full-fledged werewolf form yet. Maybe it was because I hadn't exactly
gotten used to the fact that my brand new boyfriend turned into a
slobbering canine once in a while to run loose in the shady forests,
chasing furry creatures for dinner. But I figured the likelier reason
would be the loss of control. Although in human form, he was still
preternaturally stronger than most, in werewolf form, he was close to
unbeatable. However in gaining the added strength and agility he needed,
he would also release the wild, uncontrollable primal insincts inside and
lose the needle-fine control he had over himself. It wasn't exactly a
good idea for a new boyfriend to see him slashing open a guy's guts with
his razor-sharp claws.

"Ready?" He turned to me with the dangerous light of anticipation in his
green eyes. Staying safe under cover was unbearably frustrating for a man
like him and it dawned on me that he was actually enjoying this
altercation. The crazy bastard.

Looking at him, no one could imagine the sexy, green-eyed charmer as the
Cabal chief's right hand man. Tough, aggressive enforcers who ate
supernatural gangsta boys for breakfast didn't usually look as if they'd
strolled out of a slick menswear catalog. That Manhunt pretty face belied
the fact that he could intimidate a gang of demonic hoodlums with only
one meaningful look. Those he couldn't intimidate quite as easily
certainly learnt their lesson soon enough, as they found out the
excruciating way that Clayton James had rightfully earned his reputation.

The fact that my new boyfriend was part of an organisation that I had
been brought up to despise was one thing, the fact that he was
occasionally called on to personally snap a few necks and spines was
another. Both facts still rattled around in my head, facing squarely
against my pacifist, peace-loving witch self. Not an easy position to be
in but for now, such problems had to be shelved away for the time being.
As I mentally readied some of my more offensive spells, I glanced over at
Clayton.

No doubt Clayton would call his plain black tee and blue jeans boring,
everyday wear but on that tight, well-muscled body, it looked sinful. His
carelessly tousled black hair had been singed at the edges from the fire
and he didn't look all too happy about that. There was no need to read
his mind to know where his vengeful thoughts were leading. Blood.

Getting offensive certainly wasn't a problem for him. As I braced myself
for our next move, he shot me a challenging grin and a thumbs-up sign. I
had to pity the fire-breathing demon. Damned fool.

Incendiary Grazza was going to rue the day he was born - and two and a
half decades later decided to make a protest by burning down a Soho
foundry with the help of his buddy, the friendly telekinetic. We'd
already disposed of the crate-tossing telekinetic barely minutes ago with
the help of one of the few spells in Clay's repertoire and my arm
wielding a handy wooden stick. Unfortunately before we could tag team the
fire demon, he'd rained fireballs on us and we'd been forced to run for
cover.

The smothering smoke would have shielded the demon from view but it
couldn't hide him from my telepathy. Simple enough to lock onto his
chaotic thoughts and wild meanderings just a few feet away from where we
stood. If I had the time, I could have looked deeper to find his deeper
motivations but time was a luxury I could ill afford. The brief glimpse I
received from his frenzied mental processes showed some muddled images
and ideas that I couldn't comprehend. Only the word Cabal came to mind
and yet it wasn't a part of my father's Cabal.

Another cabal here in New York? There were questions I could have posed
to Clay but I didn't have time to search for an answer. Not when the fire
demon was deliberately causing havoc in the centre of Soho district. Even
by the witches' covenants, the demon would have been brought down and
contained before he could bring undue attention to the rest of the
supernatural world. Unfortunately unlike the pacifist Coven witches, the
Cabal's rules were simpler, more definite and far more elemental. Death.

Through his cell, he'd already alerted the Cabal who would stall the
authorities in their own inimitable way - giving us some time to contain
the problem till their arrival. It would be up to me to keep my ...
boyfriend from having Grazza's thigh bone for dinner. Not an easy task
but I had to try. Certain of my duties here, I sighed and slowly drew up.
The memorized incantation flew from my lips the minute I sensed the
blond-haired demon standing ten feet away in a clearing, enveloped in the
encircling smog and darkness. The temperature cooled around him in
response to my freeze spell. I wouldn't be able to cool his fires that
easily but it would certainly be enough for Clay to mount an attack.

The smoke and the darkness didn't blunt Clay's keen senses at all and he
leapt easily across the crates into the clearing. There was a loud yelp
and the sounds of a scuffle as flames started pouring out from the
ceilings. As I tried to squint, my vision blurred from the tears in my
eyes and I could barely make out the demon gesturing away in the clearing
even as Clayton shook him like a rag doll. Blood spattered the air and
the smell of burning flesh reached my nose. A stream of fireballs shot
randomly out of the scuffle, a few missing me by mere inches.

On any other man, the flames would have caused life-threatening
third-degree burns but Clayton healed fast enough thankfully. My freeze
spell certainly cooled down some of the flames. Clayton wasn't entirely
impervious however and I could just imagine how painful those burns could
be. Closing my eyes to concentrate on their position, I recited another
incantation to help. The air slipped out of the demon's throat for a
second and he started gagging helplessly for breath.

Just enough time for Clayton to coldcock him with a powerful punch that
snapped his head around and sent the demon flying across the room into
another pile of crates.

I jumped up from our hiding place. "Shit! Clayton!"

Even as he spun around from his combative stance to glare fiercely at me,
the feral smile twisting those sexy lips softened almost imperceptibly.
"Oh, come on, baby. That was barely a lovetap there."

"Asshole." Without the incendiary idiot, I chanced a cold spell to
contain the fires. It worked partially, just enough for me to approach
the clearing without singeing myself. Or the coat he'd lent me for the
trip. "Lovetap? I think you probably broke his jaw there."

"But he burnt me, gave me an ouchie!" Those delicious lips edged into a
pout. Imitating a child's vice, he whined, "I'm hurt. Aren't you gonna
kiss it and make it better?"

"Shut it. You're not funny at all, Clayton." There was a low hum at the
back of my head that told me that Grazza was still conscious, just
barely, and he was in a world of pain. The telekinetic hadn't returned to
consciousness yet and I could barely contain a sigh of relief. No matter
what Clay might say about my crazy urge for danger, I didn't need to have
another bout of flying objects intent on killing me.

Even as Clayton walked towards me, I could literally see the open burns
closing and healing near miraculously. It still amazed me each time. He
would suffer some slight pain for the next few days but in three days or
so I knew he'd be as good as new. Good thing, this healing power.

Some guys got all the breaks. Enhanced senses, rejuvenated strength and
youth, a talent for magic - and the looks of a matinee-idol to boot.

For me, I would have to boil a shipload of poultices just to treat the
superficial burn on my arms.

He came up to me, grinning like a returning champion. So damned pleased
to have squashed a vengeful demi-demon. "Damn, that certainly worked up
an appetite. I'm hungry as hell."

That reminded me of lunch. We were just heading back with our lunch.
Almost in concert, both of us looked down at the floor where we'd dropped
the parcels in a hurry. A telekinetic and a fire demon hadn't left us
much time to think. The thought of delicious fried mushrooms from Kwan's
had only given him a minute's pause before he'd run for cover from the
blazing inferno. Even a crazy werewolf/sorcerer ducked when a firestorm
was heading his way.

Crouching down to gingerly pick up the remnant, I held up the takeaway
Chinese we'd packed, now burned to an unrecognisable crisp. "Clayton. You
owe me lunch."

"Come on, let's go home." He laughed.