It Takes Two

Crane Manor, Langdon District, Elberon — December, 2010

Elie looked up from his book when he heard someone enter the bedroom. It was Lilith, possessing the corpse of a stout redhead. He didn’t know whether to be relieved that it wasn’t Daedarus, disappointed that it wasn’t Daedarus, or disgusted with the fact that this new corpse was decidedly un-fresh.

“Daedarus requests your presence in the courtyard.”

Elie felt his stomach clench with anxiety—or was it excitement? He quickly closed the book, making sure to mark the page, before slipping from the bed and making his way to the closet.

While he rummaged for his coat and gloves, Lilith rather regrettably decided to try her hand at conversation.

“He’s fond of you,” she observed. “When he finally does kill you, he won’t hire out. He’ll do it himself.” Elie looked up at her, eyes wide, and she gave his shoulder a comforting, if awkward, pat. “Run along now. You and I both know patience isn’t exactly a philosophy he adheres to.”

Elie nodded dumbly and hurried out of the room, eager to get away from Lilith’s foul smelling corpse.

The courtyard was vast and surprisingly bare. Every other space in the mansion was full to the brim with greenery, from ferns to flora. But the courtyard had been kept empty. Elie now knew why. It was where the rituals took place.

In the middle of the yard stood Daedarus Cain, in all of his aggravating glory, dressed in full druidic regalia. He was stripped down to a pair of black slacks and decorated from head to toe with ornaments of bones, tooth, leather, and feathers. A few yards away, near the edge of the courtyard, stood what appeared to be a young deer.

Elie didn’t even want to know.

Daedarus’s eyes followed him as he approached. Elie noted that all of his glamours were down. It was rare that the elder Harbinger showed his true face, even in his own home. Elie found himself slightly fascinated by the humanness of it.

“Strip,” the man commanded with an imperious wave of his hand.

Elie blinked, rather taken aback by the demand. “What! Why? I’m not going to drop trou with you standing right there!” he exclaimed, not really sure what the appropriate reaction was but knowing that blurting out the first thought that came to mind probably wasn’t it.

Daedarus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh. “I meant your jacket, brat. And your shirt. Unless you would prefer to have blood stains all over it? I don’t know what the latest fashion is among your generation, but I had hoped society hadn’t fallen that far.”

Once again, Elie found himself at a loss. “But won’t I be cold?”

“Gods grant me patience not to feed this boy to the barghests,” Daedarus muttered to the sky. “You have Magic, don’t you? I’ve seen you blast a grown man into a wall, surely you’re capable of keeping yourself warm.”

Elie gave an indignant huff, but complied. While he worked the buttons on his shirt undone, Daedarus busied himself inspecting a very long, very sharp, very menacing dagger.

“What are we going to use that for?” Elie asked, trying to keep his tone casual but failing miserably, if the slight quake in his voice was anything to go by.

“What do you think the deer is for?” the man quipped, not bothering to look up.

Elie froze, staring at the animal in horror.

“You’re going to kill it?!”

“Correction. You are going to kill it.”

“No! No, no I’m not!”

Daedarus gave him a curious look. “Come on, brat, it’ll be good for you. It builds character. Kids these days are so sheltered. I grew up on a farm. By the time I was your age, I had already killed dozens of—”

“I don’t care!” Elie shouted, nearly hysterical, “It’s defenseless! Practically a baby! What did it ever do to you?”

“You're breaking my heart, brat,” Daedarus said dryly.

Elie gazed at the deer with a forlorn, slightly nauseas expression.

“Oh, please," Daedarus said, "You're lucky I didn't decide to use a human.”

Elie felt queasy. He dearly hoped he didn’t throw up. Daedarus would probably castrate him if he did. “A human? You would really use a human for one of your rituals?”

Daedarus leveled him with a strangely somber look. “You know as well as anyone the meaning of sacrifice, Elliot.”

“But not—not for something like this!”

Daedarus rounded on him, seemingly calm despite his sharp movements. But Elie knew better. The anger was in his eyes. A tempest stirred in their blue depths. “’Something like this?’ Tell me, brat, what is this? Does it scare you? Do you find it disgusting? Am I a heretic?”

“Stop—stop it—I didn’t mean—”

“Or is it so strange and so freakish that you just can’t stay away? I’ve met both kinds of people, boy, and don’t think for a second that I won’t deal with you the same way I dealt with the others who ‘humored’ me.”

Elie's hands balled into fists. “You’re sick! You’re sick and I don’t want anything to do with you or your rituals or your gods—”

A crack echoed throughout the courtyard. The foreign sound of flesh striking flesh. Elie stumbled back from the blow, his eyes locked on the offending hand that had delivered it. There was a ring on that hand, and on that ring there was blood. Elie raised his stunned gaze to its owner.

Daedarus towered over him, his face twisted with inhuman rage. Before Elliot could move, there was a hand around his neck. Long fingers dug into his skin, bruising and constricting and burning. He belatedly realized that his feet no longer touched the ground.

“You ungrateful little bastard,” Daedarus snarled. Except it was no longer Daedarus before him. It was Cain. Cain, who had killed hundreds. Cain who had killed his mother. Cain who had taken his arm. Those were Cain’s eyes, crimson and burning with irrational, unfathomable, monstrous rage. It was Cain’s malevolent, monstrous Magic that pounded against Elie’s senses, smothering his protest better than the hand around his throat ever could.

“I would teach you the Old Magics. I would show you power the likes of which most men couldn’t even dream. I would make you my equal. And you would toss it all away because of simple moral qualms!?”

Elie was not unfamiliar with danger or with near-death experiences. But something about Daedarus’s Magic, overwhelming and crushing in its hate, made his will to live rear its head and, in one startling moment of violence, lash out mercilessly at the source of his torment.

“FUCK!”

Daedarus stumbled back, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. Elliot tumbled ungracefully to the ground, gasping for breath and rubbing his sore neck.

The angry Magic that had filled the courtyard dissipated. Daedarus held his hand away from him, examining it with such a myriad of emotion that Elie had to wonder if there was any emotion in his gaze at all.

“You bit me.”

Elie glared.

Daedarus hummed appreciatively.

They both stood silently for a moment, facing each other, Elie with his teeth bared savagely and Daedarus still unbalanced by his protégé’s retaliation. And then he laughed. It was a horrible, grating sound, like the shattering of glass. There was a certain knowing madness to it that made Elie physically recoil.

“You are mine," the man said in little more than a whisper, "There is no doubt. We are the same, and no one else would have you but me.”

Elie shook his head and backed away slowly.

When he suddenly turned and sprinted from the courtyard, Daedarus did not try to stop him.

Small miracles.


Daedarus headed straight for his office, dropping himself into the chair behind his grand mahogany desk. He sat quietly for a moment, staring blankly at the wall, before suddenly slamming a fist on the desk, sending vials and papers flying. He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desk and rest his face in his hands.

He remained this way for a long time.

---

Just airing the last of my feels. Also I need a break from writing nonfiction.  I'm kind of impressed with myself. I wrote this in an hour and a half. Record.

When I think of Elie and Daedarus, my protagonists, two scenes come to mind. This and the one in which Elie...kind of...sort of...stabs Daedarus through the heart with an athame. Surprisingly, that other scene was one of the happier moments in their relationship. This one, not so much. They've done worse to each other than this, believe me, and this incident is one of the more domestic ones but for some reason I think it says the most. It's quite early on in their relationship, too. Elie still hasn't gotten used to Daedarus and all of his strange...quirks.

Like always, if you have questions or want clarification on anything, please ask. I know it can be confusing when I plop scenes from the middle of an unfamiliar story into your laps.

Written to White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons. Let me tell you, son, it is very hard to write these two dorks in any kind of serious situation. Very hard. And so it requires music that will make me weep.

Goodbye.