Awakenings 2: Instinct Read online

  “They're going to rape him, and it's your fault.” Joam swung around, looking for the source of the voice, but it was as if it came from everywhere at once. He was surrounded by a white haze. Feelings of rage and despair settled over him like a heavy blanket. He felt weak.

  “You are weak. Weak and stupid. Too bad Blake must pay the price.”

  Joam tried to clear away the white fog so he could see what was happening in the rest of the room, but it was no use. The stuff was thick. He tried to listen. He shouted. “Blake! What's happening? I can't see!” And in his human form, he couldn't feel Blake either.

  Then the mist attacked him. It started with little pinpricks all over his skin. He squirmed, trying to get away from them, but there was no escape. “Why didn't you just leave him alone? It's your fault he's in this mess. You got him involved with Higgs and Freemont back in Beulah, and now you got him involved with this. You don't have the strength to give him up.”

  “I do!” Joam protested. “I would if I could. Even if it cost my life. Anything! Enid! I know it's you, Enid. Help me!”

  A scornful laugh pierced his ears like a lance. The pinpricks became burns, like from a cigarette, thousands of them, all over his body. Joam fell to the floor, gasping.

  “Soon, what happened to me will happen to Blake. Soon, it will be his soul that torments you. And you'll beg for death. The two of you will be damned together, doomed to inflict unimaginable pain on one another for all eternity. And the promise of the life you could have had, all the joy and the love—His Excellency will soak up all that wasted happiness and use it to make himself even stronger. The power of thwarting your love will take him to the next level, where he can manifest all his varnal powers while still in human form. He'll be able to claim his victims whenever he pleases, never having to fear exposure as an eldritch creature.”

  Joam fought for breath over the agony racking his body. The fire was on the inside now, lancing up and down his bones. “If he's such a powerful sorcerer, why does he need to manifest his varnal abilities in human form? Why not just cast spells?”

  “Spells take time, you fool, and they're too easily disrupted.”

  “Walsh used you, Enid. Just like he's using me and Blake. He's not your friend. Help us, and we'll try to find someone to set your soul at rest. Please.”

  A momentary abatement in the agony told Joam she was thinking about it. Then the pain returned threefold, each manifestation he'd experienced so far now hitting him at once. He screamed.

  Blake sprang to his feet just as Vic came at him in full varnal form. He dodged Vic's first thrust, but the creature moved with inhuman speed. Teeth sank into Blake's calf. He reached down, prying the jaws off his leg. Vic dodged away, and Blake tried to get past him to help Joam.

  Vic lunged at him again, and this time Blake caught him by the scruff of the neck. He threw him, aiming at Saffron and Walsh as they shoved Joam toward the circle. Vic struck Saffron in the back, and she staggered, but it was too late. They'd already shuffled Joam over the line. White mist filled the circle, and he couldn't see anything.

  Walsh, Saffron, and Vic all faced him now. “Seems your boyfriend gave you a little something extra,” said Walsh. “Too bad. He's going to need it.”

  Joam's scream rang through the room. Blake rushed the three of them. “Let him out of there!”

  A gesture from Walsh sent Blake flat on his back. Before he could get up again, another gesture transformed the sigils at his wrists into manacles, which snapped shut, pinning him in place. Sigils on the ceiling unfurled and became chains.

  Joam screamed again, his cry even more anguished than the last one. The sound shredded Blake's nerves. No. This wasn't going to happen. They weren't going to get away with this. No.

  The chains reached for his ankles, slithering across the floor like snakes. Blake tried to keep his feet away from them, but they seemed to anticipate every move he made. Cold metal wrapped around his ankles and pulled, raising his feet up and apart. Vic stepped forward, his bright red erection bobbing.

  Over Vic's shoulder, Blake saw that the mist in the circle that held Joam had cleared. He lay on the floor, limp and drenched in sweat. Their eyes met. Blake willed Joam to look away. He knew this would be the worst torture of all, having to watch him be violated while he was helpless to prevent it. But Joam didn't look away, of course. He just held Blake's gaze. It was as if in this one way, the sorcerers could not separate them. Whatever else they did to them, they still had a connection.

  The thought reminded Blake of how Joam had revived him, and even given him some of his own energy. It wasn't Joam alone who had done that. Blake, too, had taken part. Joam had given energy, and Blake had taken it. It gave him an idea.

  As Vic positioned himself between Blake's spread legs, Blake pretended to panic. “No! Please, don't! Don't do this, Vic. I beg you!”

  The varnal grinned and morphed into middle form. He grasped Blake's hips in his hands.

  Blake braced himself for the pain. He couldn't let it distract him from what he had to do. If this was going to work at all, it had to be done in the very first moments of contact. He closed his eyes, gathering his energy and concentrating on how it had felt when he'd absorbed it from Joam.

  In one brutal thrust, Vic entered him. Blake felt the drain begin, and he used all his energy to reverse the flow. He couldn't have done it at all without the extra power Joam had given him. It acted like a ballast, allowing him to tip the balance and draw Vic's energy in.

  Vic gasped in surprise. He tried to withdraw, but it was too late. Blake's concentrated energy was like a gravitational field, sucking Vic in, drawing off his energy faster and faster. “N-no-no!” the varnal screamed, panicking.

  “Now you know how it feels,” said Blake, finding it difficult to speak over the flood of energy filling every part of his body. As it did, he felt differences in what was coming into him. This was the energy Vic had drawn from various victims over the years. Blake concentrated on drawing it all in.

  Vic slumped against him, but Blake didn't stop. Truth was, he didn't know how to stop. He just kept drawing and drawing as Saffron looked on in horror and Walsh tried several gestures in succession, all to no avail. The symbols just got absorbed along with Vic's energy. “Stop this!” he shouted to Saffron. “Pull him off!”

  Saffron tried, but the moment she touched Vic, she too became a part of the energy transfer. In the end, there was nothing left of either of them but a thin coating of dust on the floor.

  Joam wished Enid had taken him with her to hell if it meant he didn't have to witness what Vic was about to do to Blake. But he was here. He couldn't move, or he'd be beating on the walls of his confinement, futile as it might be. But his already weakened condition was no match for Enid's torture, and when she'd finished and evaporated, he fell, boneless, to the floor.

  Now, the only thing he could do for Blake was hold his gaze as Vic approached. If only Blake could take all that extra energy Joam had given him and use it to draw off Vic's energy instead of letting him drain him. Blake's eyes gleamed, and suddenly the suppressed fear he saw in them became something else. The tiniest ember of hope sparked to life inside Joam, growing brighter as he saw Vic first panic and then slump over Blake, unconscious. Perhaps, even though he was in human form and all these warped forces were arrayed against it, something of their bond remained functioning. Or maybe Blake had the idea all on his own.

  By the time Vic and Saffron disintegrated, Blake was so pumped up with energy, he felt like he might explode at any moment. A glance down confirmed his suspicions. He was glowing. He flexed his arms and his legs, and the manacles shackling him shattered. Before he even got up, he shot a beam of energy at the circle that held Joam, blasting it open and destroying the framework for the whole ritual. Then he turned and found Walsh staring at him, slowly backing up toward the door.

  Walsh turned to flee, but even his accelerated responses were no match for Blake with the energy of a hundred victims coursing t
hrough his body. He got to the door before Walsh and blocked the way, levitating a good foot off the ground. “You want power?” he asked. “Then take it!”

  He thrust his hands outward and released all the energy he had taken from Vic and Saffron and Joam. It poured out of his hands in a torrent of golden light and plowed into Walsh.

  The energy surrounded Walsh, and he writhed within it. Inside the golden glow, Blake could make out smaller concentrations of energy. They looked similar to the little blue things that had devoured Enid. The souls of Vic and Saffron's victims, he realized. And then, something astonishing happened. From Walsh's mouth, which was spread wide in a soundless scream, poured more of those gold lights—thousands of them.

  Joam tried to crawl to where Blake floated, facing Walsh. Walsh was being devoured by the souls of his victims. That seemed like karmic justice, but Joam was worried about what would happen once Walsh's soul was freed from his body. He knew firsthand just what an angry ghost could do.

  Blake saw him, dropped to the floor, and hurried to his side. “Joam!”

  “Good job. Only, with no circle to contain his soul…”

  Blake's eyes widened. “Oh shit!” In the next breath, he gathered Joam in his arms and ran for the door. Just as they got there, it swung open. What now?

  Jimmy, dressed in white robes and accompanied by a tall blonde woman in jeans and a T-shirt and a dark-skinned man in a clerical collar, stood in the doorway. They took one look around the room, and at Walsh, and their eyes grew wide. “The chalice,” said Jimmy.

  The priest nodded, opened up the case he carried, and withdrew a silver goblet, which he placed on the floor near Walsh's feet. Meanwhile, the woman positioned herself on the other side of Walsh, took a deep breath, and shifted into varnal middle form. Jimmy and the priest also stood facing Walsh, each evenly spaced around him in a triad. Jimmy began to chant, and the others joined in. White light emanated from them and then formed a circle around Walsh.

  At least, what was left of him. The little golden things had nearly devoured him by now, and as they watched, the last few scraps of corporeal flesh were consumed, and the golden droplets spun in a circle around his milky form before dropping, one by one, into the chalice, where they disappeared. Walsh's spirit flew right at Blake but hit the wall of protection that Jimmy and his colleagues had created.

  For a moment or two, the ghost battered itself against the confines of its enclosure, and then one of the golden droplets still on its way to the goblet doubled back, grabbed Walsh's ghost by the scruff of the neck, and dragged him along with it. A thin wail echoed outward as he vanished.

  * * * * *

  Blake held Joam tight as he watched Jimmy and the others dissolve the circle. The chalice, to all appearances empty, went back into its case, and then the three of them stood looking at Joam and Blake.

  Blake sat on the floor, Joam half sitting, half lying in his lap. Jimmy came and knelt beside them. “That was a remarkable thing you did.” He glanced at Joam. “Both of you.”

  “We've been trying to get Walsh for years,” said the woman. “Thank you.”

  “And thank you for helping our partner escape,” said the priest.

  Jimmy cringed. “It wasn't supposed to work out that way. You were supposed to escape,” he said to Blake.

  Blake nodded, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, he felt very tired, and he was glad that he was sitting down, because he might have fallen otherwise. “So, what are you guys?”

  “We fight sorcery, and we try to help its victims—”

  “And we help paranormal beings learn how to use their powers safely,” said the varnal woman.

  “We'd like to help you,” said the priest.

  Blake and Joam looked at one another. “No offense, Jimmy, but…we've been fooled before, and…”

  “What you did just now looked an awful lot like sorcery,” said Joam, his voice hoarse.

  Joam hadn't seen Jimmy in action earlier like Blake had. He didn't know why, but he just knew this wasn't sorcery.

  “Sorcery perverts the natural order. What we did was magic, but the kind that works with and enhances natural processes. Just like what you did, Blake. Oh, and my name's not Jimmy. I'm Do-Chun.”

  “And I'm Father Magoro.”

  “Jane Baldridge.”

  Jimmy—Do-Chun, clapped his hands together and said, “Well, shall we get out of here? Our car is outside, we can drop you off wherever you want to go.” He held a hand out to Joam, who took it, and Father Magoro took Joam by the arm, and together, they got him upright. Blake didn't like it. He wanted to carry him, but…he could barely stand himself. He let Jane lend him a steadying arm.

  They got out of the house and started down the driveway toward a blue minivan parked at the end of the drive. “Wait,” said Blake.

  They stopped and looked at him. “What you said… Just like what I did? I'm not… I can't do magic.”

  All of them, including Joam, started to laugh. Joam pushed off from Do-Chun and staggered toward him. “Babe,” he said, leaning against Blake and wrapping his arms around him, “you so can.”

  * * * * *

  Their room in the Motel 6 outside of St. Louis was a dead ringer for the one they'd stayed in after fleeing Beulah, but so many other things had changed. Blake lay stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head, just enjoying staring up at the ceiling while Joam napped beside him. It was late afternoon of the day after they'd left the farmhouse, and the sun against the drawn orange and red drapes lit the room with a warm glow.

  Do-Chun, Jane Baldridge, and Father Magoro all had rooms here too. They were on their way back to their base of operations and more than happy to give Blake and Joam a ride and a little money to tide them over. While Blake relished this time alone with Joam, it was comforting knowing that Jimmy—Do-Chun, he kept having to remind himself—and his associates were nearby. And the fact that Father Magoro had examined Joam and declared that the houndsbane was completely gone from his system was especially reassuring.

  Beside him, Joam stirred. Blake turned and watched him, the golden light turning his skin to bronze. Joam's eyelids fluttered open. He smiled when he saw Blake, and reached out to touch him. No hesitation now. No fear.

  Blake leaned into the hand caressing the side of his face. He scooted closer to Joam and wrapped one leg over Joam's hips. “Hi.”

  Joam's smile was as warm and lazy as a long summer's day. “Hi.”

  “Did you have a nice nap?”

  Joam leaned over and pressed his lips to the crook of Blake's neck. “Mmm hmm.”

  Blake ran his hand up Joam's flank and over his back, slowly stroking his silken skin. Joam lifted his head, and their mouths met, lips melding together in a deep kiss. Blake savored it. There was no hurry. For the first time, they weren't looking over their shoulders, worried about being caught by Higgs or the cops or their own inner demons. Joam brought his arms around Blake and pulled him close, and Blake relaxed into his embrace, relishing every timeless moment.

  The more they kissed, the harder Blake got. He reached down and cupped Joam's ass and drew him closer, fitting their groins together so that his cock nestled against Joam's own erection. Blake flexed his hips, dragging his cock up and down Joam's shaft. The friction made every nerve in Blake's body sizzle, and Joam made that little whimpering noise in the back of his throat that never failed to drive him wild. On impulse, Blake pushed Joam onto his back and straddled his hips.

  Joam looked up at him, a question in his eyes. His chest rose and fell, his skin glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat.

  “I want to try something,” said Blake.

  Joam nodded warily. “I'm…I'm not ready to do anything houndclad, or even in midform. Not until I get more training from Jane. I know she said that a lot of what Vic and Saffron and Enid told us was bullshit, but until we know which parts were lies…”

  “I know. And I agree with you. This is something different.” Blake sat back and let Joam's cock nestle into t
he crack of his ass. “First, I want you inside me.”

  Joam swallowed. “I want that too, but…is it too soon? Blake, I-I'm sorry I couldn't stop Vic.”

  The pain of Vic's forced entry had all but faded from Blake's memory. He leaned forward and caressed Joam's face, trying to ease the worried expression he saw there. “It was rape; there's no denying that,” he said, “but if it hadn't happened, things would have turned out very differently, and we might not be here now.”

  “Yes. I know that,” said Joam, “but that doesn't mean it wasn't traumatic for you.”

  Blake thought about that. “It's a funny thing,” he said. “I've been through that before. This time, I turned the tables on the one attacking me. It hurt, but…I don't feel helpless like I did those other times. In fact, what happened gave me the power to defeat Walsh.”

  Joam said nothing. Just ran his hands up and down Blake's arms and nodded, listening.

  “I want to try giving and exchanging energy with you while we make love. While you're in human form. If I can do that, then I don't think we'll need to worry about you draining me anymore.”

  Joam nodded understanding. His hands came to rest on the tops of Blake's thighs. “But you could take me,” he said.

  That was true. Blake kissed Joam, then worked his way down along his long, beautiful jaw to the tender curve of his neck. “Yeah, but it bothers me that Vic was the last one to enter me. Doing this with you…” He sighed. “I know it doesn't make any real sense, but—to me—you'll cancel him out.”

  Joam wrapped his arms around Blake and hugged him tight. “If it helps you.”

  “It will. I know it.”

  The light in the room was like liquid gold, and it reflected in Joam's eyes as he looked up at Blake. He drew Blake's head down and kissed him tenderly, thoroughly. “I love you.”

  Blake reveled in Joam's warm embrace. “I know. I love you too.”

  Joam rolled Blake over onto his back and kissed his way down his body. Blake was rock hard by now, and his cock leaped as Joam's exploring mouth neared it. But Joam dismissed it with an affectionate stroke or two that only inflamed Blake's desire. When Joam fondled Blake's balls but lowered his head to run his tongue over the little patch of skin behind them, Blake knew what he was up to, and he lifted his knees to his chest.