Mike couldn’t sleep.
Scott lay next to him, warmly spooned against him, while Mike stared up at the ceiling. The night of lovemaking had gone into the dawn, and Scott was thoroughly spent. Mike knew, surprisingly enough, that he could have kept on going.
While laying there in bed, he thought about what he had done. He had killed the creature whose body he now inhabited, the creature that came through the darkest umbra. Mike had torn out its soul and flung it back into the umbra, where it probably was still there, floundering in confusion.
Mike didn’t care. He had the body he wanted, the body of shadow and elements, strong enough so that Hades wouldn’t take it from him. Hades could take shadow. He could take earth. Maybe even take fire. But water and air were the realms of Poseidon and Zeus, and he had done nothing against them.
Yet.
He shook his head. No, he was given another chance at life, and he was going to make it better – though he supposed he didn’t do such a great job at the start, killing this creature for its body.
He turned over in bed and sat up on the edge of it. Scott murmured something and then settled down. Mike looked down at his misshapen feet, feet that had not been fully formed and looked like lumps with claws. This was the price he was going to pay for this new body, he supposed. He got up, the claws clicking on the wood floor as he walked down the stairs to the kitchen.
Sunlight streamed through the tinted glass of the loft area. The sun rose at one end of the loft, and he could see it, a ball of yellow light in the sky. He stared at it for a while, his hands behind his back, thinking about possibly the future here, what was going to be expected of him, how much Scott had advanced in such a short time, and lastly, how he felt neither hot nor cold, hunger nor satisfaction, pain nor pleasure at this very moment. He felt nothing. Was that peace? A Zen-like moment of nothingness?
He could feel these things, but only if he thought about it. Possibly he could go naked in Canada or in a winter coat in the desert, and still feel nothing. He wasn’t hungry, though if he were human, he should be starving. He didn’t feel pain when he picked up the fiery brand from the fireplace – though it burned his skin and he could smell the burning flesh, a scent tinged like burnt grass. Passion and pleasure – he smiled. He could feel that, most certainly, as he had proven upstairs. And now, if he thought about it.
Scott had said he was alive. Alive and a mixture of the elements, as man was a mixture of the elements, if you believed the alchemists. But he wasn’t quite human.
“First thing, ” he said to himself, “A belt and a tattoo.” The tattoo he would prefer to do himself. He didn’t think there were many Tsoo around here, nor did he think he could pay one enough; especially after his ex, Jade Serpent, probably told them all what a lunatic he was. The tattoo would permanently mark him as being of a light Caucasian color, but could do nothing about his orange, fiery eyes. The belt would at least make him look nominally normal.
He went back upstairs, and, still naked, went through the door to the library.
Books attacked him, buffeting him all over his body with their spines, slapping him with their covers. “Stamatíste aftí tin epíthesi me ti mía!” he roared, and they stopped their feeble attacks. “Ydych chi’n cofio mi? Ty pomnish’ , kto ya?” He looked around the room as books floated to their shelves. The books remembered him now. He touched the side of the door frame, and the wards flashed an angry green. Some flashed blue – his own wards that he created. He struggled to find power within himself to feed the wards.
All he felt was cold and darkness.
Before, he could feel the power as fire-like water, a flowing fire that he could stave off or build up. This power, this was different, and something he was going to have to get used to. It was there, but different.
Walking into the library was like walking into the wrong part of town. Something didn’t make him comfortable or feel right. Of course not, you nilly. This is Scott’s library now. At first he felt anger, but then it was quickly replaced by pride. The student outdid the teacher. He went to the workspace. It was clean and neat, like his own would be. Books were put away where they belonged, not scattered like he did sometimes.
He went to the next level and found the mirror that Scott had shown him. It was Scott’s mirror, and he dared not use it, in case someone from the Netherworld could come through it. He didn’t even stand in front of it.
Lastly he found the fire they had been at last night. It still burned merrily, a magical perpetual fire. “Very good,” Mike whispered, appreciating the beauty and detail that went into its creation. He went back to the workspace and found what he needed – a quill with ink. This he would use to make the belt. The tattoo, if done correctly, would take days.
He looked to the door. He didn’t want days. Not yet. Not while his lover waited.
He set the quill and ink down. “This can wait,” he said, and headed back to the library door. It clicked shut, and he saw a green light coming from behind the door when he closed it. He then heard the sliding of a bolt.
“We’re going to play that game, are we?” he said to the door. Nobody hid secrets from him.
Not even his partner’s library.