London Nights   von Ulysses
                            (Book 1: The Lost Boy)
================================================================================
                           Kapitel 4: Fire and Tears
                           -------------------------


The house was quiet as Jonathan entered through the servants’ access and
sealed it magically behind himself. He made a mental note to tell Mrs Gunderson
in the morning so that she didn’t get a nasty shock should she try to go to
her herbal garden from here. Jonathan made his way into the main hall through
the inconspicuous door beneath the grand staircase. No proper Victorian wanted
to see the servants do their job after all. The drawing room was empty now, safe
for a few abandoned glasses on the table which Steven would remove later after
he was done with Sydney’s luggage. Jonathan walked over to his tumbler and
emptied the remaining whisky in one swoop.
“Everyone else went back to bed. You looked tired, too.”
Velkan stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame, his big arms crossed
in front of his chest. 
“Well, it’s late and there’s been a lot of commotion. Syd is off to Paris
by the way, he offered me to come along.”
“So why didn’t you leave?”
Jonathan took his time with the answer to that question as he walked over to the
wolf. He wondered if he should be offended by Velkan’s tone, but decided
against it. 
“Easy. You are here and you are dead set on helping that boy. That means this
is where I am staying. Someone has to keep you from messing up, wolf.”
“I love you too.”
Jonathan chuckled and stole a kiss from his partner. He enjoyed the short moment
of intimacy. Those were the moments which proved to him that he was making the
right choices.
“Where is our little Tran…” He caught Velkan’s disapproving expression.
“Where is our little Banshee-boy?”
“With Richard, upstairs.” Velkan nodded towards the floors above them.
“I’ll go have a chat with him. We need to know more about the magic they,
whoever they are, used on him to change his body.”
“If you say so. I trust you on the magical side of things.”
“Wise choice.”
“Go and do your thing, I’ll clean up here. We can’t always leave
everything to Steven.”
“Okay. I’ll come back to bed when I’m done upstairs.”
“Don’t make me wait. The bed is cold without you.”
Velkan gave him another kiss before he started to collect the glasses. Jonathan
watched him work for a moment - mostly because that meant he could see his lover
bend over to pick up a glass in those well-fitted jeans of his - before turning
around and heading up to the room Richard and Tariq were sharing.
Jonathan looked forward to the Ifrit’s return. He understood Tariq’s
reasoning for staying behind and help his parents look after his brother while
he was recuperating from his ordeal with the ancient flower demon but he missed
having the man around who was quite literally his partner in crime and one of
his closest friends. 
Richard and Kearon sat on the windowsill next to the bed and were in a lively
conversation as Jonathan entered. The Banshee looked much better already. His
hair was freshly washed and combed back and he wore one of Richard’s shirts
and one of his sweatpants. Both were comically oversized on the scrawny boy. He
was reaching gleefully into a bowl of fudge which stood between him and
Richard.
The window was open and a gentle breeze played with the colourful canopy over
the bed.
Jonathan knocked against the doorframe to announce his presence even though he
was sure Richard had already noticed his arrival.
“May I intrude?”
“What is it?” Richard’s tone made it obvious that he hadn’t forgiven
Jonathan yet for calling Kearon a street rat earlier. 
“I would need a word with Kearon.”
“Why?”
“Look, Richard, I know I’m not your favourite right now.” Jonathan said,
making no effort to hide the exasperation in his voice. “However, I’m also
the one person in this house who is best versed in magic. So you’ll have to
put up with me for now, mate.”
Richard chewed on his lower lip and avoided Jonathan’s eyes but he clearly
wasn’t happy with this. Jonathan, however, couldn’t care less. 
“Fine, but I’ll stay here.”
“If Kearon is okay with that.” Jonathan said in an attempt to sound more
amicable. “I would understand if he’d prefer we talk in private about those
matters.”
“No, it’s fine.” the Banshee finally joined the conversation. He smiled at
Jonathan but it didn’t quite reach his shining purple eyes.
Jonathan could sense the magic which surrounded the boy but he couldn’t tell
if it was the Banshee’s own power or residue left by the spell used to change
the boy’s physical gender. However, he could tell that his gaze made the boy
uncomfortable, so he put on a smile.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You’re just a fascinating case.”
“He’s not some kind of specimen to research, Jon.”
“Tell that to Myra.” Jonathan quipped but it was lost on Kearon’s valiant
protector. “Fine, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You think I’m fascinating?” 
“Indeed.” Jonathan came into the room. “You’re a Banshee but you’re a
man now. That’s some potent magic right there.”
“I’m not a man now. I always was one.” Kearon said, his lips curling in
vexation. “It wasn’t some spur of the moment decision.”
“I’m sorry.” 
Jonathan meant that. He had met quite a few people who were transgender on his
travels and he didn’t understand the issue some folks seemed to have with
them. However, he had never really bothered with the personal background. 
“You know what I meant, though, right? That it needed a lot of magic to pull
something like this off. And I can feel a strong presence from you but I can’t
tell if that is your own magic or leftover from what was performed on you. I
just want to make sure that everything is in order.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Not a bit.” Jonathan replied truthfully. “Lay down on Richard’s bed for
a moment, will you?”
Kearon did as Jonathan asked. He watched with fearful eyes as Jonathan stood
over him and placed his hands close above the boy’s trembling chest. 
Jonathan began mumbling words in a long forgotten language and reached out into
the boy’s aura. It took some effort to break through the barrier around it.
The air around the bed began to vibrate with magic as Jonathan increased the
intensity of his spell and a sudden burst of energy signalled that he had
intruded into the world of Kearon’s magic. What he found there, was totally
unexpected. 
Jonathan felt pulled into swirling chaos of purple darkness as a horrible scream
swelled up in his head. He wanted to let go, retreat, but couldn’t. The
darkness drew him in, overwhelmed him. 
There was a voice, Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was in his head or real, which
tried to reach him over the terrifying screaming. The scream filled his entire
being and Jonathan realized that it was a horrifying sound of his past which
shattered its way into his mind: His mother. Screaming as she was burning
alive.
Someone grabbed his arm. Jonathan’s eyes flew open. Richard was saying
something but Jonathan couldn’t hear it.
He looked back at Kearon who had grabbed his wrists. He tried to get Jonathan to
let go. The boy’s eyes were widened and pitch-black, his face distorted from
fear. 
Then Jonathan saw it: His hands were burning. Flames danced on them, eating away
at his flesh, searing the glowing tattoos on his fingers. The fire spread,
rising up along Jonathan’s arms as he tumbled back in panic, slapping at his
arms in a desperate attempted to stop the flames. His skin was blackening while
the fire engulfed more and more of his body. He would die. Burn and die. 
Richard grabbed him again, held him tight with the full strength that the wolf
part of him had to offer and shook Jonathan.
“Jon, calm down! What the hell is going on?!”
Jonathan wanted to scream but choked as the flames took away the oxygen around
him. Why didn’t Richard help him? Why didn’t he… burn?
It was over just as quick as it had begun. Jonathan stared at his hands, hot
tears running down his face. There was no fire. His hands were okay, so was
everything else. 
“Jon, what happened?”
Richard’s voice seemed impossibly far away. Jonathan staggered away from
Richard’s grip and almost fell over the thick oriental carpet on the floor.
“Keep that thing away from me.” he muttered.
“I’m sorry!” Kearon sat up and watched the scene with fearful eyes which
had now turned back to their usual purple glow. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Keep away. Just… keep away.” Jonathan made a step back as Richard
attempted to support him and turned around to flee from the room.

---

Jonathan found himself in the drawing room again. He was still shaking while he
switched on the old standard lamp and grabbed the whisky decanter from the
silver tray on the sideboard. Ignoring the glasses, he simply removed the
crystal cork and tossed it on the sofa before drinking directly from the
decanter. Steven probably would have keeled over on the spot had he seen this
but at this moment the damn butler was the least of Jonathan’s worries. The
alcohol burned in his throat as Jonathan drank more than a tumbler’s worth in
one go.
The whisky bottle in hand, Jonathan slumped down on the Victorian sofa and
stared at the dying embers in the fireplace. Goddamn fire. Something wet dripped
on his hands and only now, Jonathan realized that he was still crying. He wiped
his hand across his face in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.
Several more large swigs of whisky finally brought the desired feeling of
levity. Clinging on to the bottle like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood,
Jonathan took another mouthful with the intent of ending night as drunk as
possible.
He had already emptied half of the bottle’s content as the privacy he so
thoroughly desired was interrupted by Richard, who entered the drawing room and
came over to him.
“Are you okay?”
Jonathan looked at him for a moment. At this wide-eyed, well-meaning little
arsehole with the wild ginger hair and the pretty face. Richard was genuinely
concerned for him despite their earlier disagreement. And that only made it
worse.
“Fucking perfect, Dickie.” He toasted the young man with the decanter before
drinking from it again.
“I can see that. You’re still shaking.”
He was right. Jonathan’s hands still trembled, even the one with the heavy
crystal bottle. 
“Gold star for attention to detail. What do you want?”
“See if you were okay.” Richard said with a sad smile. “I don’t know
what happened there but he sure didn’t mean…”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Jonathan interrupted. “Save your excuses for
someone who’s in the mood for them.”
“You scared him.”
“I scared him?! I fucking scared him?!” Jonathan laughed and tried to drink
again but Richard grabbed the decanter and wrenched it from his hand. Jonathan
glared at the young man. “Richard, believe me, this is not the night you want
to get between me and booze.” 
Richard held on to the bottle for a moment while obviously trying to figure out
how to best proceed but then he handed it back to Jonathan, who gave him a
sarcastic smirk. 
“Good boy.”
“You think this is the right way of dealing with this?”
“Listen, Richard, I don’t care for your approval.” Jonathan slurred his
words a bit. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck what you think about me at this
moment. Why don’t you piss off and take care of the little monster you dragged
into our house?”
“He’s not a monster.”
“He is.” Jonathan laughed drily. “Here’s a little lesson, free of
charge.” He waved the bottle about. “Magic isn’t coming out of thin air,
it’s a part of you, a part of me, it is a part of every being which is tuned
into the magical ether. But, and this is a big fucking juicy but, it’s highly
unique. Your fae magic is different from mine and both are different from bloody
Banshee magic.”
“I know that and-”
“Shush, I’m talking!” Jonathan held up his index finger and ignored the
pouty expression on Richard’s face. “Magic is connected to your body
chemistry. And that’s where things get messy. Little Bashee boy up there went
and allowed people to mess with his body on such a deep level, that it fucked up
his magic. There is a maelstrom of chaos churning in this scrawny body and I got
a taste of it.”
“That’s why he needs our help.” 
“Speak for yourself. I’m done with this.” Jonathan sank back into the
sofa. “And now, please, pretty please, fuck off.”
“What happened up there?”
Jonathan drank from the decanter before looking over the rim of the bottleneck.
“What’s your deepest fear, Richard? I’m just asking out of curiosity for
when he utilizes it against you.”
“Whatever he did, he didn’t mean to. He was almost inconsolable.”  
“Good for him.” Jonathan pointed at the door. “And now piss off. I mean
it. I want to be alone.”
Richard clearly wasn’t satisfied and his sad puppy eyes would have been
heart-breaking in any other situation but Jonathan was drunk enough not to care.
He leaned back as Richard left the drawing room with his shoulders hanging.
Alone at last.

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