Waylon's Crossing - 25. Chapter 25: Incubus

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 25: Incubus

Karadur returned to the sickroom and paused in the doorway. Kynan's wingspan had doubled since they'd been cut from his back. From the rate of growth, Karadur fully expected the new wings to end up larger than his own. Even now, they draped full over the bed, the tips of one drooping toward the floor.

Like a bird's, the small, downy-soft, gray-white feathers that had first emerged were molting, pushed aside by stronger, bigger black ones. Each of the new feathers was larger than the old, the largest as long as Karadur's forearm, and as wide as his palm. Black feathers. What manner of creature had black feathers? What had his queen done?

In a chair before the fire, Jacen closed his book. "His fever broke early this morning." He answered the unspoken question, "Look. He heals." For being self-taught, Azil was a good healer. Jacen thought he might even be able to learn some things, though he wished he could have been able to help. Kynan was going to have scars, and wasn't that interesting, for a half-demon?

Karadur stepped closer, seeing that the deep wounds on the halfling's back were indeed closed, sealed over with fresh skin. He sighed, feeling the decrease in body temperature and noting the presence of sweat. The ugly bruise on Kynan's cheek was also noticeably smaller.

"He still sleeps." Karadur glanced back over to the healer, letting his voice tilt up on the end to make a question out of his statement.

The half-unicorn shrugged. "If he does not wake soon on his own, I will attempt to do so. For now, his body knows what he needs best." He frowned, speaking slowly as he carefully thought out his question: "Hunter, you mentioned that this boy has demon blood, what would be his other half? I have never seen --"

"I do not know, either," Karadur interrupted. He crossed the room to perch on the edge of the bed. A few of the downy feathers dropped off at his hesitant touch.

Feathers rustled and a tousled, black head appeared from under a spread wing. Alan blinked and rubbed his eyes, catching his breath in a gasp as he saw Karadur. Quickly he sat up, sending tiny feathers rising up around him like a cloud.

Alan sneezed, waving his hand in front of his face. "What the?" Had his pillow sprung a leak or something? Then he took a second look, fingers brushing against Kynan with wonder. "Wings? How -- what ...?"

"Werewolf," said Karadur, meeting that dazed gaze. "You are the werewolf Alan Mammon, are you not?"

"Uh ... yes?" He hoped he wasn't about to get killed for admitting that. But then an image popped into his head, accompanied by a sense of great strength and respect and age. All of a sudden, the room turned on its side and his stomach plummeted into his feet. He clapped a hand over his mouth. "Ugh."

Karadur's hands snapped out, reaching over Kynan to grab the sides of the werewolf's head, to stare into his eyes. He recognized the disorientation of having memories not your own superimposed over reality.

Yellow eyes held brown. "Focus," Karadur instructed. "Focus on me." He didn't quite make it a command.

Alan blinked slowly and released his mouth. "I'm going to be sick," he muttered.

"No, you're not. It'll pass. You will learn to separate out what you know and what Kynan knows. No, look at me."

The demon's hands were huge! He made the prince seem small in comparison, and Kynan positively tiny; which made Alan what, exactly?

"You're Karadur, aren't you?" The name floated to the surface, even as the swirling miasma of his stomach settled and the room stopped spinning.

"Very good," said Karadur. He released the werewolf's head, picking up the limp, left arm. The scar was even now fading to a light tan color, like the rest of the human's skin. He'd snap his neck in an instant if he could, but, like it or not, this ... abomination was now a part of Karadur's family. Only a true pairing could survive the Bonding. What the hell was the Queen going to say? What would she do?

Karadur, Azil admonished sleepily. Don't borrow trouble.

Alan pulled on his arm, tucking the limb against his chest and staring, wide-eyed, at the demon. Demons hated werewolves and vampires, and killed them whenever they could. Why? Alan didn't know, and his heart went thump-a-thump-a in harsh anxiety until the Hunter sat back, frowning, but no longer looking like he was about to bite his head off.

Karadur's skin was blacker than black, interspersed with even darker patches, patterned not unlike marble. The Prince had not been as dark, and the female bodyguard was almost gray in comparison to the Hunter. Karadur's eyes were oval-shaped, yellow, with a slitted, black pupil that, like a cat's, changed shape depending on the available light. Right now, indoors, the pupils were large, the yellowness a thick ring.

He had fangs, like a vampire, and Karadur's canines were all pointed, like Alan's, like a werewolf's and not a vampire. He touched his teeth with his tongue, eyes going to the black horns spiraling up and forward from the top of the demon's smooth, hairless skull. Actually, now that Alan looked, he could see that Karadur didn't have any hair at all. Not even eyebrows. He frowned, thinking. Kynan had eyebrows, and he had hair, but, that one time he'd come into Alan's dreams in those ... huh, in pants like what Karadur was wearing ... Alan's eyes dropped to Kynan.

Like before, Kynan's back was shiny and wet, but Alan was relieved to see that the wounds were closed over, and not weeping sores like before. His gaze trailed down his back to his -- he blushed and skipped over the lean, muscled buttocks -- to his legs. Kynan was completely hairless, just like Karadur, except, he had hair, on his head. Did Kynan shave? Alan couldn't remember his friend ever appearing scruffy. Alan had to shave just about every day, though he didn't think his arms or legs were particularly hairy, no more than a normal human's was, anyway.

Karadur studied Alan, even as the werewolf stared unabashedly at him. Like Alan, Karadur had never taken time to really study the other race. Alan looked human, aside from the elongated canines. He smelled like dog, too. Somehow, though, Kynan had seen through the physical appearance to the undeniable value the werewolf provided.

He is his mother's son all right, Azil agreed. If not for her allies, the Queen would not have been able to affect the coup.

Go back to sleep, Karadur chided, but his pairling did not answer.

Karadur huffed through his nose in aggravation, gaze going back to the werewolf, who flinched at the rough sound. Turning to address the healer, he found the half-unicorn gone. Annoyance made Karadur's lip curl up, exposing his fangs. A Hunter could ill afford to lose track of his surroundings. That was a good way to end up dead.

"Um ...." Alan ducked under the steely gaze that turned his way. He only had the dimmest recollections of an escape, but Kynan trusted him, didn't he? Then why didn't he feel safe?

"Kynan needs to wake up," Karadur told him. "He needs to eat to regain his strength."

"Um," Alan gulped. "Okay?"

The demon sighed. He and Azil had fought tooth and claw from the very instant of their Bonding. He'd never had occasion to doubt what his pairling felt or misunderstand his condition. Evidently, this Pair-Bond was different.

They're all different, Azil thought at him, sending soothing mental touches to ease the Hunter's short temper. And neither of them is Demon. You and I were raised with the stories, and Kynan had us. This little one knows nothing. Be gentle with him.

It! snapped Karadur. It is a werewolf.

And our son's -- your grandson's -- pairling, the smaller demon pointed out. Do not forget that he is a warlock. He may be little, but he is powerful.

Karadur rolled his eyes.

He is surely intelligent, Karadur. Teach him. You will have to teach them both.

Karadur sighed, acknowledging his pairling's superior logic. Very well, but I don't have to like it.

Azil's mental voice smiled. No, he agreed. That you don't. But Karadur could almost hear an echoing, faint, 'But you will.'

Alan watched this exchange with amazement. Karadur's facial expressions changed, just as if he was arguing silently with himself. He is Bonded! he remembered. He cocked his head a little, wondering if he looked like that, or would look like that, when he and Kynan spoke together. Although, and he frowned a little, their communion had seemed stilted somehow. Kynan could understand him, but Alan couldn't hear Kynan's mental thoughts.

He concentrated now, searching for that internal ... something that was Kynan's sleeping presence in the back of his mind. The sense was there, like the prickle of unseen eyes on his shoulder blades, but without the accompanying sense of dread or worry. Comfortable, that's what it was, like curling up in a sunbeam on a lazy, summer day. Or of looking up and catching someone's gaze, a smile across a crowded room.

Not really understanding what he was doing, Alan imagined himself reaching out to touch that sunbeam in a light caress. Beneath his fingers, Kynan felt warm, and light, like a puff of fur, shed in the spring to float like a mini cloud. He shivered; the contact trailed gentle tendrils up Alan's spine. He did it again and this time his fingers and toes tingled, the hair standing up on his arms, legs, and the back of his neck. Something hot, like liquor, set the bottom of his belly aflame.

"Ooooh," he murmured, arching his back, eyes fluttering half-closed.

Karadur snorted with restrained amusement, nostrils twitching as the werewolf's arousal tainted the air. In the back of his mind, he could sense Azil rolling his eyes, but the smaller demon didn't chastise him, instead reminding his pairling of their own initial forays into that aspect of their bond.

Neither saw Kynan twitch, but they both started, scrambling backward as the halfling sprang to full awareness. Feathers flew every which way, rising up around them in a choking cloud. He teetered on the mattress, arms and wings flying out instinctively for balance. The snap of wings startled Kynan even more, and he flinched away, trying to accommodate for the unaccustomed weight and terror of some unknown thing clinging to his back. He jumped, arms windmilling, and toppled ...

... Right into Karadur's waiting arms.

"Easy, easy," said the demon, straightening twisted limbs.

Kynan's eyes saw black demon before his nose and sixth sense could reassure him. He struggled, calling, "Alan!"

"I'm here, Kynan," said the werewolf, crouched on hands and knees on the bed. Kynan's confusion filled his mind, paralyzing him. "I'm here."

Karadur kept his hands under Kynan's arms for support and turned him so he could see the little werewolf. "There, now, see? All's well."

Kynan's feet pawed at the ground, legs not wanting to hold him as muscles screamed in remembered agony. He knew it was only muscle-memory, but he shuddered all the same. His arms reached for Alan, but only their minds connected.

"Alan!"

Kynan. He smiled. I'm okay. We're safe.

"Safe?" Kynan echoed. He blinked, recognizing wooden walls instead of stone, scenting Karadur and Alan, and medicines. His mind could feel the presence of a few others close-by, and a town not far away. "Oh." He stopped struggling, blushing as he briefly met his mentor's gaze. Then his eyes dropped to the floor, his body sagging with despair.

Alan sniffled, hand going to his face, chewing a lip, puzzled by the wave of cold sadness that brought tears to his eyes.

Karadur didn't need the werewolf's uncertain sobbing to recognize Kynan's distress. The halfling had always been easy to read. He gathered the small body to his chest, patting the top of his head.

"Hush," he whispered. "There is nothing to fear."

Alan shivered and hugged himself, feeling the impression of arms around him, the echo from Kynan. He tried to tell himself, to think reassurance, rewarded by a backlash of annoyance.

Pulling back slightly, Kynan turned his head to scowl at Alan. "So loud!" he hissed. Alan made his head throb. He took a few calming breaths and reinforced the mental block between himself and the werewolf, until Alan's voice returned to a bearable volume.

Karadur smiled a little and lifted Kynan to sit him down on the bed. Instantly, the werewolf crawled into the halfling's lap and Kynan's arms tightened around him.

The skin-to-skin contact sent Kynan's thoughts skittering to places he couldn't go, not helped by Alan's cat-like, contented purring. He wrapped arms and legs around Kynan's torso, closing his eyes as he leaned into him. Kynan rubbed his cheek against the top of Alan's head before he could stop himself, sighing a little. He could ignore the itchy-soreness of his healing back and legs when enveloped by so many layers of Alan's joy and ... and love.

Swallowing hard, Kynan looked up at Karadur. "Where are we?"

The demon perched on a stool, smiling, and not unkindly. "We are in Asphodel Fields, in the Borderlands." He'd slept some and then gone to search out someone to take a message to the Queen. Kynan had slept the greater part of two days, but time ran differently here. The solstice was still some days away.

"Oh!" Kynan exclaimed. "The Prince! He --"

Karadur held up a hand. "I know. Do not worry yourself."

"But," asked Kynan, suddenly uncertain, "aren't you going to interrogate me?"

"I only need to know one thing: Does Xeran know?"

Kynan's eyes widened in alarm, tightening his arms protectively around Alan as the werewolf wiggled. Fear clenched icy fingers around Kynan's heart. Demons lusted after power. Karadur knew! If he wanted, he could seize Kynan, demand whatever payment he wanted. Azil, perhaps. Azil! If Karadur knew, then Azil knew. If Azil knew, then the Queen knew! Knew that Karadur knew that Kynan knew, that others knew!

Alan clutched to his chest and powered by mighty sweeps of new wings, Kynan leaped backward, putting his back to the wall.

"Stay away from me!"

Karadur likewise leaped to his feet, every nerve screaming at him in preparation, in anticipation of threat, of a battle. Instincts set him in a fighting stance, but cold shock froze him in place.

Dragon!

His senses -- all of them, eyes, nose, ears -- told him that a grand, leathery monster perched in the corner of the room. Poison dripped from its open mouth, wings flattened against the walls, claws ready to rend and tear. Kynan's voice turned into a screech of animalistic, savage fury.

Karadur! screamed Azil in his head. He shot out of bed and pounded down the stairs. Karadur! It's an illusion! Karadur! He could see through his pairling's eyes and there was no one there, only Kynan and his pairling, but Karadur's adrenaline shot up to alarming levels, his mind cognizant of one thing and one thing only: he was trapped in a room with a very angry dragon. Common sense told him to flee, but he just stood there, unable to move.

He shook his head, hands trembling, encased by flames, desiring -- needing! to protect himself, protect his pairling from the monster before him. But warmth filled him, Azil's thoughts holding back the fear. Fear, he suddenly realized, that was not his own, but directed at him ... From Kynan!

He forced air into his paralyzed lungs and blinked, but the image stayed firmly in place. Doubt crowded him, but he could feel Azil pushing those thoughts firmly aside, the musician's absolute certainty keeping the fear at bay.

It's Kynan, Karadur, Azil said, over and over. It's just Kynan. There was only one possible explanation for what they faced. Only one creature in either world had the ability to turn the mind against itself.

No! No, it's not, it's --

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Karadur's head jerked around, to see Bryce standing in the open doorway. The human and half-unicorn were directly behind him, and beyond them was Timolin.

Karadur lacked control of his tongue, still mostly held immobile with fear, but Azil had no such compunctions. "Nothing is happening," he announced from down the hall. "Get back, all of you."

Bryce scowled, hands searching for missing weapons. "No fucking way! Not while that's on the loose."

"There's nothing there." Azil tried to Command, but he lacked the skill. "It's your imagination."

"Like hell!" snapped the vampire. "There's only one reason he could be h-here!" That damned demon was long dead; he'd seen to that himself. There was only one explanation for the nightmare of his past to be present, especially when he smelled like rotting wounds and feathers.

The dragon screamed again, making Karadur wince, ears ringing from the sound. Claws dug into the mattress, sending feathers scattering from the gaping rips. The monster's poison sizzled where it hit wood or cloth, burning through all.

"Get out of there!" shouted Azil. He pushed and shoved Timolin, but the demon stood firm, blocking his way and not letting him any closer. Karadur, Karadur, he pleaded. Help me! Karadur! You must protect the prince! "KARADUR!"

Yellow, demon eyes darted about the room. "Prince?" he mumbled. "Yes, must ... Where is he?"

Tell them to get back! shouted Azil. He's frightened! He doesn't understand! Look at the werewolf, you'll see.

Jacen's voice cut through all the chaos. "Step back, Bryce." He sidestepped Duncan and moved into the room. It might look like magic, but it didn't feel like magic, which meant it couldn't be magic. While he wasn't quite sure what was going on, he could sense his patient, and the halfling was far too weak to be moving around yet. Jacen knew how fragile half-demons were, and how quickly things could go sour. He'd lost patients before, just when they looked to be on the path to recovery. He couldn't let that happen this time.

As the half-unicorn approached, the dragon winced and shuddered, as no real dragon would. The monster seemed to draw back further into the corner, shrinking, and feeling surged back through Karadur's limbs.

"That's it," said Jacen calmly. He walked slowly right up to the side of the bed. "No one's going to hurt you here. I promise."

The dragon opened its massive maw, and Kynan's voice came out: "St-stay away!"

Karadur's knees went weak and he shook out the flames from his hands, falling to his hands and knees, limbs trembling. Cold sweat dripped down his back.

Bryce's mouth fell open as he stared, his and Duncan's gasps sounding unnaturally loud in the silence as the shadows suddenly abated, and Kynan reappeared. Sweat dripped from him, plastering his hair to his head, and he panted heavily, arms and legs shaking with weakness. Alan stared at them all with huge, rounded, golden eyes.

"Everybody just calm down," said Jacen.

But Bryce refused to be calmed. "Incubus," he snarled. He didn't understand how or why, but one was here. Emotional vampires, they preyed upon all natural -- and unnatural -- creatures. They were the ones who -- the ones that...!

"Stop."

Unbelievably, Karadur stepped between Bryce and the incubus.

"You go through me to get to him, Vampire." He crossed his arms over his chest and strove to look as forbidding as he knew he could be, locking eyes with Bryce.

"What the hell is going on?" whispered Duncan, huddled by the door.

Was it possible? Incubi had leathery wings, not feathers ... and they were hideously ugly. They could change their appearance, but to remain in a chosen form when unconscious? Seemed unlikely. There wasn't a lot of information available, other than incubi and succubae fed off the emotions of others, especially those generated by sex and lust. There were still laws on the books calling for incubi and succubae to be killed on sight.

"Why are you protecting him?" Bryce demanded.

"It is demanded by the Queen of Darkness."

"Bullshit! You're a damned Demon! That's as much your enemy as mine."

"You are wrong," Karadur stated. He gathered his scattered wits to impress his order upon the vampire. "You will not harm him."

"Like hell I won't! That -- that thing! is a menace!"

Little more than stories to frighten children until the wars, the emotions sown during the centuries of discord lured the incubi and succubae out into the open. They played each side against the other, flourishing in the wash of powerful emotions. While they still required food and drink, an incubus or succubus would go mad and eventually die without enough emotions to consume.

Taken individually, an incubus or succubus was extraordinarily ugly; however, their most powerful trick was changing their appearance to appear as someone's lover and therefore infiltrate wherever, and whomever, they wished. They could also evoke and consume emotions through dreams. With an incubus or succubus around, even dreams weren't safe. By the end, both sides were hunting down and killing any incubus or succubus they found.

Karadur hadn't thought there'd been any left. But, whatever Kynan was, the Queen not only knew, but she didn't care -- or cared, but not in the way Karadur was thinking she meant and --

He looked back and over his shoulder to his grandson, still sheltering his pairling, though he seemed to be more leaning on the werewolf than standing. Whatever he was, Kynan was family, and Karadur would protect him with his life.

"You will not harm him," Karadur repeated, raising his hands. Flames licked his fingers.

Jacen stepped between them, making both vampire and demon hiss and back away. "Stop this!" His worried gaze tracked Kynan, pale face grit with pain. "Get out! Both of you. Get OUT!"

Jaw clicking shut, Bryce turned and left. He didn't stop at the door, but kept going.

Alan whimpered, then hiccupped, and dissolved into tears. His heart was bleeding, he was sure, ripped right from his chest. Kynan’s strength abandoned him, dropping Alan and himself onto the bed in a heap of feathers.

Karadur stared at them a moment, his mind working quicker to connect the facts. Azil.

I'm on it, the other demon replied grimly. What could have happened to their stoic, kill or be killed Arawn? That pain had to be coming from someone, and it wasn't himself or Karadur. He didn't believe it was the mage or unicorn, either. That left Bryce.

"I meant it!" snapped Jacen at Karadur, barring his way as the demon started toward the bedside. "Get out."

"But --"

Jacen folded his arms over his chest. He knew he posed a ridiculous figure; he doubted he weighed even as much as Karadur's leg, but he'd had lots of practice standing up to stubborn demons.

"Out."

With one last glance for the pair on the bed, Jacen dragged a chair with him out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

*          *          *

Jacen closed the door on soft sobbing, looking up to glare fiercely at Karadur. The Hunter rustled his wings angrily, and then stalked off down the hall. That left unicorn and mage to stare awkwardly at one another.

"You did good," said Jacen, for about the dozenth time since waking up in his mage's arms.

Duncan shook his head silently, shuffling his feet and studying the floorboards. He shrugged.

"It'll get easier," Jacen promised. Getting closer to the human was turning out to be akin to taming feral cats. He had to put out the bait and wait; being too forward would only chase him away. Of course, some acting might be in order, too.

Big, black eyes filled with moisture in that way Jacen had once practiced to look as innocent and miserable as possible. "Why can't you like me?" he asked, bottom lip quivering, voice rising at the end -- not too much, but just enough to come off as plaintive without being whining.

Duncan visibly started. He gulped, "Um ...." His conscience twinged. He had been avoiding the strange-looking creature. Duncan wasn't used to waking up in strange places, with people he didn't know in bed beside him. He really hadn't been ready for the way his body had reacted, either. Not even with Michi, his long-time, casual lover, had he felt such desire to bury himself and never come back out.

Watching the dark blush spread over the mage's face, Jacen barely stopped the smug smile from appearing on his face. I have you, he thought. You're mine, even if you don't know it yet.

He stepped forward, stopping when Duncan took a nervous step backward. "Can't you like me?" he asked. "Even a little?"

"I ... I, uh ...."

Jacen turned slightly to put himself in profile. The hastily altered britches hung from a piece of rope tied around his hips. From practicing in front of the mirror, he knew just the right position to stand in that would show off the way the material hugged his, ah, assets. His tail poked out of a hole cut into the backside, and he knew if he twitched his tail just right, a hint of pink skin would show through. The length of pants fell straight down to puddle about his ankles in rolled cuffs, defining the sharp bend in his knees. Jacen could get into positions no human would be capable of duplicating.

Again, he fought to keep the smirk off his face, crossing his arms over a shirt that was just a fraction too tight, clinging to his body like a glove. Long, purple hair cascaded around his shoulders in loose, wavy curls.

Duncan made some kind of sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. He backed up again, bounced off the far side of the hallway, and escaped.

Covering his mouth with one hand, Jacen quietly laughed.

"In my world," rumbled Karadur, having returned unobserved, "we fight for what we want."

"Oh, I am," snickered Jacen confidently. Irritation with the demon forgotten, he grinned. "I most certainly am."