Waylon's Crossing - 23. Chapter 23: Family Planning

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 23: Family Planning

Bryce blinked. "What?"

Karadur frowned in confusion. Anger over Arawn's repeated insinuations that he wasn't trustworthy clashed with the flood of tangled emotions he felt through his bond with Azil. He’d never before felt such panic.

"He's your grandson." Jacen spoke directly to the big, black, scary-as-fuck demon.

"What?" gasped Bryce, glancing quickly back and forth between Jacen and the Hunter. Karadur looked almost gray, standing there with his mouth wide open. His eyes widened comically.

"Kynan," said Jacen with a shrug for Bryce. "He's this guy's grandson. His name's really --"

Yellow demon eyes narrowed sharply. Bryce jumped back as flames erupted in Karadur's hands.

"AZIL!" roared the demon. With an abrupt turn of his heel, he crashed through the window, taking most of the wall with him, and disappeared into the night.

Bryce peered out from under sheltering arms. "Shit. What the fuck?"

They all dropped to the ground again as Karadur came swooping back in. Grabbing Duncan, he hauled the mage right back out through the shattered wall.

"Hey!" they heard Duncan screech, and then they were gone.

Jacen giggled.

Wondering if the healer had finally snapped, Bryce gave him a puzzled stare.

"He's so cute!"

"Okay," said Bryce slowly. He pressed his palms to his face. Slow, deep breaths. Oh, God, so not working!

"Aaaaugh! Fuck this!" he cried, pounding his fists into the carpet. "Fuck you, Aure! You fucking leave me here, and I am so gonna kick your goddamned, airy ass! You and your fucked-up demon shit! Fuuuuuck!"

Instantly serious, Jacen wrapped his arms around Bryce and leaned his cheek against the vampire's back. He held on tightly when Bryce tried to shake him off.

"I'm sorry, Bryce," he said. "I'm sorry."

"GET OFF ME!" Bryce staggered to his feet, throwing the half-unicorn to one side. He stood angled away from Jacen, turning his head to glare, but the dangerous glint in his eyes was absent, leaving only anguish behind.

Jacen knew what he was going to ask and raised his hands. "Bryce --"

"TELL ME!"

"I ... I don't know." He swallowed hard. "Bryce, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just, I don't know what I'm doing, it just happened. It just happened," he repeated in a whisper.

"You knew." Closing his eyes, he turned away. "Daylight, Jacen! You knew he wasn't coming out of there. Fuck! Those were our friends! And we just left them."

"I didn't," protested Jacen. "I swear, Bryce."

"Shut up! Fuck." The kid was annoying, but leaving him at the mercy of demons? Alan had no way of defending himself. Kynan, whoever he was, was as good as dead, and Aure....

He kicked aside the debris to lean his arms against the ruined wall, staring down at the open courtyard below. Where the hell were they? These were fancier digs than Bryce had stayed in for a long, long time. There wasn't much moon, but the moonlight shone on the white-gravel path and carefully tended lawn like the Guardian's road through the heavens. Looking up, he tried to find the milky path amongst the stars, but there was too much light.

"Fuck you, too," he told God. He wasn't completely sure, but if there'd been any hope of escape, he knew that he and Aure would have faced whatever was coming through those doors together. They had fought their way through some pretty hellacious catastrophes before, like when that nest of vampires went feral and had to be cleaned up. Bryce sired the leader of that nest, so he was responsible for his progeny's actions.

Aure had been acting funny ever since he'd arrived. "What weren't you telling me? Huh?" Shaking his head, he dropped his head, staring, unseeing, at the ground below. "I loved you, you asshole."

Love was such a short word for someone who'd given Bryce thousands of reasons to laugh, to love, and to live. Where was the power, the punch?

He felt punched all right.

"Bryce?"

"Don't. Just leave me alone."

Jacen bit his lip and let his hand fall to his side. He thumbed the ring on his other hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered sadly, hoping that, wherever he was, Alan could hear him and understand and, maybe, forgive him.

Who understood magic these days, really? How could he have known what was going to happen? Even the elves, who had for so long lived and breathed magic, could barely manage the simplest of spells. I could really use your guidance, Father.

He hadn't heard from his father since being taken to the elves as a youngster. Where was he now? Lost in the Borderlands like so many others? They stretched to an infinite number of possibilities. Who knew? From the look of the sky outside, barely three days had passed since they'd left, and yet they'd consumed most of the supplies they'd taken with them, over a week's worth of food. Winter Solstice was in three days. That wasn't a lot of time, and time suddenly seemed like a very precious commodity.

"Bryce?" He shifted feet awkwardly when the vampire grunted, still ignoring him, it seemed. "I -- I need to go home, fetch some things." Now that he'd gotten a semi-decent look at Kynan, he had a better idea of what he needed. For him to be so injured, without sign of a half-demon's amazing powers of recuperation, then he must also be sick, or suffering from something else.

Demon blood won out over human blood nine times out of ten. More often than not, half-demons were born with hooves and horns, which made mincemeat of a human woman's insides. Such was the norm for demon females, but they rarely became pregnant.

Gestation for a half-demon varied between the human norm of nine months and the demon norm of twenty. Many times, the baby miscarried or was still-born. Jacen wasn't sure if it was a result of the hardship of birth or some combination of human-demon biology, but half-demons had weak immune systems. If there was any chance that this Kynan was still alive, then Jacen owed it to him, to all of them, to do the very best he could.

He shifted feet awkwardly, edging closer. "Will you help me?"

Eyes peered around Bryce's shoulder to stare at Jacen.

"You, um, I, um, I can get there much faster with your shortcuts. I need stuff, I -- Bryce. I'm sorry, please, believe me, but we can't give up. We're stopping a war, right? Isn't that why we're --"

"I don't care."

"You don't really mean that, do you?"

The eyes withdrew, leaving Jacen staring at Bryce's back.

"Bryce."

"What, Jacen?" He was so tired, tired of all this shit. Trust Aure to get them in over their heads and leave him holding the bag. No, no, that wasn't fair. They always stuck together, only now he was gone.

"Do you know how unique you are?" Perhaps there was reason yet to hope.

That got the eyes back. "Huh?"

"How many elementals have you known, Bryce?"

"I ..." He blinked stupidly, uncertain if his mind had finally grown legs and skittered off on his own, or if this bizarre conversation was really happening. "A few, why?"

"I've known one, sort of. One and I'm almost eighty. My father used to tell me stories. He knew three, from the wars."

"So?"

"Do you know how elementals breed?"

Bryce turned to face the healer, face a bewildered mask. "What the fuck you talking about, Jacen? Elementals don't breed, they're born."

"Do you know how?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Well." Jacen took a deep breath. "It's like a -- auck!"

"Jacen!" Bryce scrabbled after the healer, hissing as his burned hand caught on Jacen's clothes.

Jacen convulsed wildly, body and limbs going all different ways, bug-eyed and apparently trying to hock up his toenails. Once he had a decent grip, Bryce pulled the healer away from the ruined window, shouting for the servants to fetch a blanket or robe. When he finally got one, he wrapped Jacen carefully and cradled his body close.

A shadow fell over Bryce. He looked up to find another demon entering the room with two others close on his heels. All three were just as imposing as Karadur, though not quite so large. Bryce recognized the first as Timolin, one of Azil's brothers and the one person Karadur trusted to watch over the minstrel in his stead.

Timolin was a maroon demon, mottled with darker cherry red patches. Like Karadur, his were a warrior's horns, curving up and away from his head. His eyes were yellow, like Karadur's, but Timolin had a patch over one and more than a dozen nasty scars. The hilt of a sword that Bryce knew was every bit as long and heavy as himself, was strapped to the demon's back.

"Arawn," he said, bowing slightly.

"It's Bryce, now," he replied warily.

The demon's eyes fell to Bryce's squirming, moaning burden, one hairless brow quirking, though he did not give voice to his curiosity.

"You're coming with us."

"Hell, no!"

Timolin looked pained. "I am to be polite, Master Ar-Bryce; however, I cannot leave without you."

Bryce glanced toward the other two, silent but no less grim. If he dropped Jacen, then he might stand a chance of escape.

The demon's mouth quirked on one side. "We mean you no harm, Bryce. We are escorts. That is all."

"Persuasive ones," Bryce admitted, but he found himself matching Timolin's grin. He remembered the demon fondly. He had a dry sense of humor that Bryce liked. He also rarely left Azil's side. Azil was rather like Jacen, in that he just seemed to know things.

"Karadur's going to shit kittens," he commented, watching the demon.

Timolin's grin widened. "True, that. We ought to hurry then, no?"

With a sigh, Bryce nodded. He might not trust Karadur not to slit his throat as soon as he had occasion, but Azil could generally be trusted. Things must really be as Karadur had said, which meant altogether too many complex puzzles for Bryce to sort through at the moment.

"Who gets me and who gets the unicorn?"

"Unicorn?"

Bryce tried not to snicker as all three demons took a collective step backward. Just then, Jacen went limp and Bryce peeled back the robe to look at his face. He was pale, his skin cool and kind of clammy, but he seemed okay. Bryce used a corner of the fabric to wipe the drool from Jacen's mouth.

Timolin craned his neck to look. "That's not a unicorn," he said, intrigued. "What is it?"

"Who knows? Look, I'm not going without him, so --"

"Yes, yes." Now Timolin was impatient. "I was told you and your companion." He snapped his fingers at one of the others. "Ters."

The gray-skinned demon grimaced, but cautiously accepted Jacen. The other demon offered his arms to Bryce and, on the vampire's insistence, Timolin took up the discarded and slightly worse for wear packs.

Bryce had never liked flying.

One time he'd fallen off a boat and been swept away by a whirling, watery vortex. First slammed one way and then another, there was no up and down, no steady, gradual ascent or descent, just all whichever way all at once. Were it not for the water elemental he'd met on that trip, he would have drowned, bashed his head in on some rocks, or both. Probably both.

And the ground was such a very, very, very, very long way away.

When his demon ride swooped, Bryce's stomach went with him, not always catching up when the strong wings caught a new current. He held on tightly, ignoring the demon's muffled curses when his claws caught skin. Keeping his eyes closed, Bryce tucked his face close to the demon's chest, trusting in the demon's superior strength to not let him fall.

They could not land soon enough. Despite his best efforts, Bryce's legs shook when he finally touched ground. He tucked his hands under his arms and took deep, calming breaths, looking around.

They stood in a small, walled garden. A carriage house was through the gate on one side, and a very human-looking townhouse stood on the other end. What looked like a cellar door stood ajar in the corner by the garden wall. At twilight, there were no obvious indications that they were now in the Borderlands except for the absence of a moon.

He looked up at Timolin in inquiry, but Karadur's voice ringing loudly through one of the upstairs windows made the question moot. This was their destination.

The head of Azil's security bowed his head politely and gestured toward where yet another demon stood at the open door. "This way, please."

"HOW COULD YOU HIDE THIS FROM ME?" Bryce heard Karadur shout as the house guards showed him into an enormous book lined sitting room that also held a variety of musical instruments. Duncan stood next to a low (for demons) table piled high with even more books. He gave Bryce only a passing glance before returning to perusing the manuscripts.

The demon carrying Jacen set the healer on one end of the couch, bowing out and all the while scrubbing at his skin. The other demons gave Jacen a wide birth, but years (or in some cases, centuries) of experience kept their expressions polite and they all ignored the ruckus upstairs.

Bryce bypassed the glass of liquor poured for him at a side table and took several swallows from the bottle. He wrapped some ice in the trowel, cupping the bundle to his sore hand. Going to the window, he looked out over a second walled garden.

He lifted an eyebrow at Timolin. "Interesting."

"We have come to consider this place home," the demon said politely.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!"

Everyone glanced upward as something crashed onto the floor above, causing the windows and chandeliers to tinkle.

"Oh!" Awake, Jacen popped out of his concealing robe, as tousled and wide-eyed as a kitten. "Oh," he said again digesting his new surroundings with his usual calm acceptance. "Wow, what happened? Mmm, tea."

The only demon remaining in the room was Timolin, and he shrugged. He sighed at yet another loud thump from above.

"They fight often?" asked Bryce.

"Enough." His fingers tapped out an uneven tempo on his crossed arms as he stared out into the twilit garden. For all that Azil was one of the most influential demons in the World of Night, he was still Timolin's baby brother, and under the protection of a demon Timolin dared not cross, even if he didn't owe the Hunter his life many times over. Their verbal spats were short-lived and infrequent; the long, silent rages were the ones that concerned the house guard. Sometimes, it was like the two demons could read each other's minds, they knew exactly how best to piss each other off.

Leaving the demon to his musing, Bryce turned back to staring out the window. He was cognizant of the justiciar's every move, and salivated after the taste of his blood, but for almost the first time ever he lacked the desire to hunt. He curled his hands around the sill.

I want Aure!

"Oooh!" cooed Jacen, grabbing the jeweled brooch from Duncan's now rather dilapidated night robe. "I can't believe you have one of these!"

Duncan started, failing to back away due to the small, delicately-shaped hands curled around his brooch. “Well," said Duncan uncomfortably, not staring at the hands, not staring at the face or the ears or -- Shit! I am not looking at his crotch!

"I, sort of, ah, found it. And it won't go away." Like you, it would seem.

"Ah," said Jacen in understanding. His mage had called an artifact of great power, no wonder he'd passed out. He had passed out, right? He caressed the face of the jewel in its gold casing. "This is a tiger's eye," he explained reverently. He reached over the mage's shoulder to briefly cup the pearl earring. "And this is a griffin's Tear."

"Your world has many items, and craftsmen of great skill," said a voice from the doorway.

No matter how many times Bryce saw the famous demon minstrel, he was always surprised. With skin like rubies and eyes even more brilliant, he was a paradox of everything beautiful and admired in demonkind and everything feared.

Azil was short for a demon, not quite six-six, lithe and willowy like a youth, and with feet and hands too large for the rest of him. He had never matured into full adulthood, his body frozen in eternal adolescence. He kept his wings folded back, but Bryce knew that they were far too small and hideously scarred. They could not bear his weight in flight and in fact could not unfold completely. Bryce always expected Azil's voice to crack and break like any other teenager, but Azil had a light tenor speaking voice, able to sing in several octaves above and below to mimic a full chorus.

He gave Jacen a polite bow, but kept his distance. "I heard you were unwell?" A unicorn, in their home and unconscious, he'd finally pounded into Karadur's thick skull that they had not time for arguing.

Lambaste me later. Right now we need to find Kynan. He let the 'I'll make your life a living hell if you don't find him and bring him home' go unsaid and unthought-of.

He and Karadur knew better than anyone what they were in for should Xeran seize the throne. There would be no place within either world or the Borderlands where they could hide. They were too recognizable, and too many people would love to see them suffer.

"I am quite fine," Jacen answered, with a small, polite bow of his own.

The jewel-bright eyes flicked to Duncan. "And you, milord? I apologize for the rushed visit, but time is a luxury we do not have much of." He gestured to the books. "I have studied Lightworlder magic for many years. I place them at your disposal."

Duncan glanced around to all of them, all waiting expectantly. Was this why he'd been torn from his home in the middle of the night, to read some old books, some in languages so old they didn't have names?

"Okay," he drawled, hoping someone would clue him in.

"He doesn't know," Jacen announced before the demons could push any harder. He smiled at the mage. "His magic only awakened recently."

"There's no such thing," protested Duncan, shaking his head.

Karadur exploded into a frenzy of silent pacing, Azil's eyes following him. Bryce turned his back on the spectacle, sighing loudly.

Standing by the table, Jacen ignored all the activity. He peered up into Duncan's face. "I know what they're looking for, what to do. All you have to do is read, and will it to happen."

"But, I can't! And who are you? I don't understand any of this!"

"I know. I know all that, but, you and I? We've made magic, you've summoned things even if you didn't know that's what you were doing. Ordinarily, we'd have years to grow comfortable with each other, but the situation is dire, and you're the only mage we've got." And you're mine now, all mine.

"I don't know," said Duncan, but his fingers wouldn't release one of the books. Duncan hadn't even realized he'd picked one up until he couldn't put it down.

Purring loudly, Jacen nuzzled up alongside his mage, insanely pleased when Duncan automatically lifted his arm to set around Jacen's shoulders. That was agreement enough.

"All right, then." Jacen had experienced many a magical attempt. Perhaps the best mentors for this mage were the elves, but they were not here. They'd just have to make do with what Jacen could recall. Hopefully, that would get them far enough that the mage's instincts would take over.

"Get on with it!"

"Karadur!" snapped Azil, scowling. Arms crossed over his chest, he glared at his pairling. Shut your damned mouth! I mean it! This is our best chance and you will not fuck this up!

Jacen pulled away slightly, bringing Duncan's attention back to himself. "I'm going to move around behind you and put my hands on your shoulders, okay?"

Duncan closed his eyes a moment and nodded. He wanted the strange half-man, part-rabbit, part-horse, part-whatever in front of him, wanted to comb his fingers through the wispy, purple hair -- except, not. Eww. The thing reeked, and who knew where he'd been. He didn't, really, want to touch him or be touched by him, but, then, why were his legs shaking? And why the hell couldn't he forget his first look at those big eyes, or the feel of his lips?

"Um, I, um, what's your name?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" he laughed. "I'm Jacen Trabyo. What I am, besides a healer by trade, is a long story and will have to wait. Now, close your eyes and stretch out your hand."

"Have you done this before?" If Jacen was a mage, then why didn't he do this?

"Sort of. A mage can't cast his spells without an available power source, like your 'trinkets.'" He smirked, but there was warmth to his tone and expression. "That's where I come in. You are going to draw power from me to feed your spells."

"Won't that hurt?"

"Aw," said Jacen, nibbling the back of Duncan's neck and feeling him shiver. "So sweet of you to worry. Won't hurt me at all." It wasn't exactly the truth, but Jacen didn't want to scare him. Bad enough their first time had to be in front of an audience. "Now, close your eyes, and reach out."

"Um, okay." As bid, Duncan detached a hand from his book, closing his eyes. "This feels silly." Did they all have to be staring? "It's not going to work, I don't -- I'm not this whatever you think I am."

"Hush, and relax. You're stiffer'n a demon on Sunday."

"What?"

"It's a joke, never mind. Just close your eyes and take slow, steady breaths. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. Good, good, keep that rhythm."

Duncan dropped his arm, uncomfortably warm. All he could think about was the body pressed up against him. "I can't. I can't do this."

"You've already done it," Jacen said soothingly. "Why do you think you're clutching that book so hard?"

"I don't know. I just picked it up." He held it out uncertainly. "It's not going to do anything, is it?"

"No, you're fine, it's perfectly safe." I think. "You can do this, or at least prove me wrong, but you have to try. Come on. You should be used to folks staring at you. You're a justiciar. Try again."

Frowning over the mild rebuke, Duncan took a deep breath through his nose, closed his eyes, and put his hand back out over the stacks of books. Petty theft did not typically go to trial, but he had been there a time or two. His job as justiciar was to sort out and analyze the facts, to recount events logically and without bias. He could do that here, couldn't he? He had to put everything out of his mind....

"Good," whispered Jacen, feeling Duncan slip into a light trance. "Think about what you want to do. You want to find someone, a half-demon someone. He's hurt and will need help. You don't know where he is."

Duncan listened to Jacen's soft voice, wiggling his fingers as they tingled.

"Listen to your instincts," Jacen coached. "Do what feels right. You'll know."

As he spoke, the mage's hand started to move. He caressed the bindings of a few books, passed quickly over others, and lingered over still more. The one he reached for was toward the bottom of a stack along the edge of the table. A thin book, the cover was faded leather, with a gold gilt image of a lamb embossed in the bottom, right-hand corner. Eyes still closed, he then flipped the book open and set his palm down flat against the chosen page.

Jacen couldn't see what was written, but he felt the magical tug at once. The Elvin magic had been like little fingers plucking at his sleeve. This felt more like the demon equivalent of a full-body slam. He closed his eyes as well, taking his mind through the techniques to keep him grounded. The spell sucked at him greedily, making Jacen feel lightheaded and weak from the sudden drain.

The room filled with a tension even louder than the human's chanting. Exchanging knowing looks, Timolin pushed his brother into an easily-defensible corner and drew his sword. Karadur growled softly when a bright globe of blue light burst into existence above the book-laden table. The ball flickered eerily, and then began to grow.

Soon, shapes began to emerge from the fog within the blue light. Sounds, too, of harsh, labored breathing, and forlorn, wretched weeping. At the werewolf’s side lay Kynan. Bryce had to clap his hands over mouth and nose, sinking down into a crouch against the window.

It's not me! It's not me! It's not me!

"Get them!" said Azil suddenly, voice sharp with suppressed emotion. Half an eye on the mage, he saw the unicorn slump and start to slide. They were going to lose them unless somebody did something now!