Waylon's Crossing - 11. Chapter 11: Putting Together a Plan

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 11: Putting Together a Plan

"Kynan!" Alan sat up abruptly, gasping, but he was no longer dreaming. He touched himself tentatively, just to be sure, staring at his callused hands with their broken nails, and the one black thumbnail that was waiting to fall off. Yup. Awake. He wore the clothes he'd changed to after arriving back home, and his senses told him the time was well after dark.

"Ah!" Startled, he pressed himself backwards. What the? Where was he? "Bryce?" He settled on the one person he recognized, startling even the vampire with the sudden relief that rushed over his face. He frowned at the unfamiliar place, snatching up his bag from where Bryce had placed it at the foot of the cot. His eyes caught on Jacen and he stared. The half-unicorn had golden skin and eyes a burnt orange shade. His violet mane spilled down around his shoulders and, yes, he had a tail.

"What are you?" he blurted, and then blushed furiously as Jacen grinned. "I-I'm sorry, that was rude."

"I am many things," said Jacen. "But I am also a healer. Your friends brought you here."

"Friends? Oh, you mean Bryce? Oh! Then you must be Smoke!" He could see how the name fitted this smoke-like being. "Thank you!"

"For helping us in the alley," Bryce prompted.

"I see," said Aure. "Didn't seem to help much."

Bryce scowled. "Well how were we supposed to know the Watch was all up in arms, huh? And I told you that vamp has it in for me."

Yes, another child for Bryce. One would think he would learn. "Do you get along with any of your children?" he asked, and as soon as the words formed, he wished he could pull them back. Aure was getting far too emotional if something so insignificant was able to provoke him. If Bryce wanted children, it was none of Aure's business.

"Oh, fuck you!" snapped Bryce. Being made into a vampire wasn't usually voluntary. Bryce had a dozen children, all accidental, and none of them thanked him for it, not that he could blame them. Only a handful was still living. "No." He batted away the apologetic tendrils against his cheek. "Fuck off."

"Um," Alan interrupted, clearing his throat. "Why am I here?" He had to go. Kynan needed him and Alan needed to find him. He had to get him help. He'd promised.

Jacen watched the interaction between vampire and elemental and frowned. He wasn't sure, what with his head pounding and overstressing his healing abilities, but there was something going on there, a subtle undercurrent. With effort, he brought his attention back to the easier, but not simpler problem the werewolf posed. If neither Aure nor Bryce would take the lead here, then it was up to Jacen.

"We need to ask you some questions, about this friend of yours."

Alan froze. Then he gathered his legs up close to leap from the bed, stopped only by Jacen's hand on his arm, the added weight holding Alan down.

"We're trying to help you, kid!" said Bryce, moving to Alan's other side.

Alan glanced from one to the next fearfully. The Prince of Darkness. Demons. There were enemies everywhere. How did he know whom to trust? He shook his head quickly. "No, there's nothing to say. Just let me go, please, I have to go!"

"You're not a prisoner," said Jacen, releasing him.

"Good. Good, then --"

Aure set an invisible hand against the werewolf's chest, holding him in place. He crossed his visible arms over his chest, well aware that he had on what Bryce called his stone-faced-fucker face. He'd tried, ever since meeting Bryce, to learn how to express human emotions visibly, but the expressions did not come naturally. Sometimes, appearing more alien was an asset.

"Stay where you are," he said.

"Aur ...!" Bryce started to scold, and broke off, anger flashing immediately to horrified guilt. He'd just almost said Aure's personal name, an almost unforgivable offense. Names were very personal to elementals and they had several. Bryce didn't know all of Aure's names, but he knew most of them, and he knew that 'Aure' was the name the elemental had chosen for Bryce alone to use. "I ... I didn't mean to," he whispered. "I ..." Forgot? That was lame, and irresponsible. He'd been trusted with something very important, a trust he'd never once, until now, broken.

Aure's cold, silver eyes held Bryce's gaze dispassionately. He was fully in his rights to strike Bryce down, but he couldn't do that. His next option was to leave, but he couldn't do that, either. Solving this mystery took precedence. He turned back to Alan, noted how both werewolf and half-unicorn flinched away, but pushed the discomfort aside. He had a job to do.

"This goes far beyond a petty, personal squabble," said Aure. He meant Alan and Kynan, of course, but he wasn't blind to the implications Bryce would most likely draw. The relief at having a way out, a way to save face over this blunder was strange, and he filed away the feeling to examine later.

"You will tell us what we need to know."

Bryce sent Aure a worried, but still irritated look before reaching out to place his hand over one of Alan's. "We're trying to help you, kid. We're just trying to figure out what's going on."

"I told you!" said Alan. "That's all I know."

Jacen shook his head slightly. The kid was lying. "Perhaps we should tell you what we know first. Then maybe you'll trust us." He looked over to Bryce, raising his eyebrows. "Tell him," he urged.

Bryce glanced over at Aure, but there was no help there. "Uh, Alan, there's a civil war brewing, and we, uh, we think your friend may be caught in the middle of it all. He may know something, and we need to find him." He started to list the few things that they knew, from the fighting in the warehouse, to the city being upset and the Watch on high alert, all the tiny clues they had that had led them to Kynan, and to Alan.

Oh, damn. Alan didn't want to, but he was starting to make sense of it all. Kynan worked for the Demon Queen, he'd said, and was being held -- being tortured! -- by the Prince, by her brother. Kynan said that the Prince wanted to take over. Kynan had rank in the demon world. He was a demon.

Demon. The word played on Alan’s mind. Demons ... were supposed to be born of evil, weren’t they? Born into an anti-world, where chaos and lust ruled over peace and love. Rhetoric of old church lessons from even older monks ran through his head, thoughts he’d imagined buried long ago. His father’s own words on demons. Nightmares of his childhood. Lessons on the Demonic Wars. Pictures he’d seen drawn in books and on scrolls of gnarled faces with piercing scowls and acid spit and acrid stench. Every picture, every phrase, he tried to compare to Kynan, but none would stick. Kynan ... always had a kind face. He smiled more than a lot. His face was curved and handsome. He smelled ... good. He smelled good, like summer and daisies.

No, Kynan was the exception to the rule. A demon with a kind heart. The thought made Alan smirk. If there existed a demon like that, Alan was certain it was Kynan. And even if he wasn’t, Kynan deserved the benefit of the doubt. The man wasn’t even fazed when Alan had told him about growing up as a werewolf; he hadn’t even been wary. He just sat back, grinned ... and listened. Kynan was the first . . . anything to ever do that for him, and Alan doubted he knew just how important that was to the werewolf.

Face it, Alan, he told himself. You need help. These people weren't human, but they weren't demons, either. Bryce was a vampire, and yet he'd helped Alan already. So had Smoke. He didn't recognize the healer, but the horn, he had to be a unicorn, and they were good creatures, weren't they? If he said he'd do something, he'd keep his word, wouldn't he? It was a risk, a big one, but Alan knew he couldn't free Kynan on his own.

"You have to promise," he said, looking at each one, but Jacen longest. "You have to swear you'll help him. I'll tell you everything I know, but you have to help me. Help him."

"We will," Bryce promised, "if it means stopping this war. Right?" He looked up at Aure.

The elemental nodded. If both sides were fighting over this man, then he had to know something. If it was enough to stop this war, then it was worth the price.

"Of course we'll help you," said Jacen.

"You have to promise me!" Alan insisted, staring hard at the healer. "You have to promise me that you won't let any harm come to him."

Hurting anyone was contrary to everything Jacen believed. He nodded solemnly. "You have my promise, young man. I will do everything in my power to see that neither you nor your friend comes to further harm."

Alan breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. And one more thing. I'm coming with you."

"I don't think that's --" Bryce began.

"No!" Alan took a deep breath, glaring fiercely all around. "You get nothing from me unless I come, too. He won't trust you." Hell, Alan wasn't sure if he trusted them, but he had to start somewhere.

Aure was the one to agree. He nodded. "Very well."

*          *          *

Kynan leaned forward onto his hands as the door closed, leaving him alone once more. He hated ... hated passionately; he'd never hated anything or anyone in his life and he gave that door the full force of his stare. Why was it that he could only bring up the anger when the Prince was gone? The fear that ruled him in the demon's presence: where did it come from? And why couldn't he push those feelings aside the way he'd trained himself to? He'd felt this lost only once before, clutching a blanket and a sandwich and crouching in a corner of Azil's kitchen years ago.

The Demon Prince had come in several more times. Sometimes he beat Kynan and left, sometimes he shared news from court or gloated about how well his plans were going, and sometimes he only watched Kynan while sitting at the table eating. Kynan had waited as long as he could, but eventually he had to eat. He was hungry all the time and he hated to even think it, but he was afraid that the prince was slowly wearing him down.

It wasn't even that he was attractive. Xeran was simply available, and Kynan was so tired, so very, very tired. It seemed like all he did was sleep, but he couldn't get enough. Every bit of him ached, even his head, though he knew what that was from.

He curled up a little tighter, his control slipping a little more, the slipping and sliding inside his body that was his own personal demon trying once more to break free.

I need to hunt.

He had to get himself back under control. If the Prince realized, if he pressed the advantage, Kynan would lose everything. He couldn't let that happen, there was too much at stake. He had to do something! He was close, he could feel it, and he’d worked through the last of his reserves without even realizing it. When was the last time that had happened? Fuck! He wasn't certain that going into the dreamscape in this state was safe, but his other option seemed to be to wait for Xeran to return, and that was simply out of the question. There just had to be someone fairly close that he could scare into producing the kind of emotion he needed, just a little, to keep from going over the edge, and then he could take some time to settle down before hunting in earnest.

Kynan groaned as he struggled to a more comfortable position in his chosen confines. Serious wounds always healed faster than not-so serious wounds. Life-saving, but annoying. While designed not to break the skin, a force rod did raise incredible welts, all the more painful for the drawing of the skin around them. He'd certainly been beaten worse, and by the Queen no less, but his arms were actually shaking with fatigue ... no, not fatigue. Hunger. Damn! I should have recognized the signs long before. Damn. Damn!

Groaning again, Kynan wrapped his arms around his stomach as his insides tried to rip themselves apart. He fought himself for control, shaking. If he was to visit the dreamscape then he needed to concentrate.

"Ahh," he hissed between clenched teeth. Stop it! Stop it! I'm not going to do this! I haven't lost control in ... in ... Daylight! How long has it been? How old am I? I can't ... I can't -- yes, you can! Focus! Alan's coming. You just have to hang on 'til then. Just a little longer. I don't want him coming here! There's so many risks. Karadur ... Karadur's on the hunt. Maybe he'll find me first. Oh, yeah, sure, and fry me to a crisp. What a thing to hope for. Maybe I should just let myself go stark, raving mad -- no! No, Kynan. More than your own life is at stake here.

In his mind's eye he could picture the smallish, red demon, his long fingers plucking the strings of his lap harp, voice raised in song. Azil. In a rare moment, Karadur lounged in a nearby chair, eyes half-closed, relaxed, glass of wine in one hand. The fire blazed behind them. Kynan lay on the giant bed, chin in hands, just watching the pair. He almost sobbed. He missed those few carefree days so much! They happened at longer and longer intervals now.

"This is ridiculous," he murmured aloud, reaching up to brush a tear from his eye. "Get a grip!" He stretched out on the floor, laying his head in his arms. To hunt!

//.. Enter Dreamscape..\\

The city of the dreamscape was the same as ever, gray and silent and lifeless. Kynan wrapped himself in his wolf shape and howled, red eyes glinting with anticipation. He threw his senses wide open, searching for a receptive mind. He found several and sat back on his haunches a bit in surprise. He tested the air, the dreams. Children were tasty, but altogether too sweet. He needed more substance, more deep-rooted fears to prey upon. He picked the likeliest source and trotted off eagerly.

He moved from the shadow city into a shadowy version of the borderlands, leaping into the chosen dream with abandon. There wasn't much there; he was too forceful, scaring his prey out of slumber before he'd really gotten his teeth into anything good. Frustrated, Kynan dropped out of the dreamscape.

\\ ..Exit Dreamscape.. //

He pushed himself up to take a long drink of water. He stared at the bed. The mattress really seemed tempting, but so would he be if the Prince returned and found him curled up there, asleep. No, back underneath, then. He sighed as he crawled beneath the sturdy frame. Even the Queen's floor was better than this. He curled up as well as he might and closed his eyes to sleep and rest before daring the dreamscape again.