Warlock

The Calm and the Storm

An arm wrapped around him like a protective shield while Skye's soft breath purred in his ear. He did not need to look at the clock to know that they had slept in far beyond the opening hours of the café, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered but Skye's purring snore, and the arm that held them together.

Although he could tell when the purring shifted into awakened breathing, the world remained still. Then the sound of the red cardinal waking its companions forced time back into motion.

"Good morning." Skye's murmur rippled through the air like a stream. The arm drifted away from his chest and Loch felt a long finger flick one of his curls.

Loch remained still. Mornings were not good when they interrupted paradise. Unfortunately, the cardinal begged to differ, and a thin strip of sunlight crept along the edge of the curtains. There was no hiding from the day.

Skye gently prodded, then shoved when he received no response. Loch landed face down on the floor and stared at the individual threads of the dark blue rug. It had been black until Skye had complained about the colorlessness of the apartment. He still had not decided whether it was a positive or a negative change. A webbed foot stepped into his peripherals. "One would think you would be well-rested after sleeping for decades at a time."

Reluctantly forcing himself to his feet, Loch stared at the mirror across the room. He actually looked more rested than he usually did, though a change of clothes would be a good idea. The pants could last a few more days. The disheveled look was humanizing, however, and he needed to look as human as possible if he was going to accompany Skye to the café. They were either a sliver away from convincing her of his humanity, or in the calm before the storm. He hoped it was the former.

"I hope she forgets about Darius." The terror Loch had managed to distract Skye from the previous night had returned. While Skye's presence had restrained Loch from his crueler habits, he knew it was his fault that Skye had lied and broken Other laws. That made Skye's fear his fault entirely.

Loch searched his memory, trying to find a way to distract him but coming up with nothing. "Who's Darius?"

"My uncle." Right, the one Trinity had threatened to speak to. Perhaps his being 'human' would cause Skye more trouble than it was worth. No, that was no way to think. He had to stay hidden, or he would find himself trapped in the same deadly pattern as before.

"Is that the same uncle you gave my scrutatio orbs to?" Loch found it curious that his uncle had not requested more relics after the orbs and the dragon keys, but any investigation would draw more attention to himself.

"The one and only." Skye led the way down the staircase once they had grabbed their most waterproof coats. He hopped past a newly broken step; unfortunately, their temporary guests had not been as careful as they should have.

The rain had retreated to the clouds, but it left a biting cold in the air. Loch pulled his scarf tighter, and a sweeping glance confirmed the persistent presence of the waiting werewolf. If Trinity had taken the bait, she was clearly not completely convinced of his humanity. She could be planning something.

Loch tried to suppress the snakes in his stomach. She could not know. He had not performed a single act of magic in her presence, and her werewolf pet could not see the magic he practiced through the abandoned apartment building's shadow-laced windows.

As the Camaro swept across the rain-smothered road, Loch spotted a glimmer of a smile on the werewolf's long yellow teeth. He knew something. Had the escapees let his secret slip? No, they had a silence spell on their tongues – unbeknownst to them – to prevent them from mentioning anything suspicious. He was the man who owned their temporary quarters, nothing more. Of course, they had promised silence when he asked, but promises were fragile creatures compared to the power of a spell.

The café was curiously busy, especially given the fact that the morning rush did not start for another hour. Loch subconsciously latched a hand onto Skye's arm. He saw his terror reflected on the other man's face, and tried to swallow the fear. He had no right to be more nervous than Skye was. The snakes in his stomach could eat it. Skye had much more to fear than he did; telling a human about the Others was a scratch on what had probably been a perfect record for him. His uncle clearly had serious influence over him as well, though with Skye it could just be the fear of disappointing family.

Only Others occupied the café when they entered. Loch avoided their prying gazes and searched for Trinity. She had wanted to talk to Skye, after all. It did not take long to find the pixie; her scarlet hair stood in stark contrast with the black and dark brown hair surrounding her. A smirk decorated her lips, adding to the bad omen of the smiling werewolf. Before he could confront her with an insult, Loch felt Skye tap him on the shoulder.

"Loch. The TV." Loch followed Skye's gaze to the TV that rotated between reality shows, the news, and sports throughout the day. The evening crowd watched sports, the morning and afternoon crowds watched the news, and the lunch crowds relished in the terrible joy of reality TV. The show flickering across the screen now, however, was none of the above.

Loch watched a brunette, pigmented version of himself cross the screen. The shadows he wore in the 60s and 70s gave him a much healthier appearance than the natural one he expressed now. Having eaten their fill of his horror, the snakes in his stomach at last settled. The storm had come; he had nothing more to worry about. At least Skye would not have to face his uncle for breaking the biggest Other law.

"Not so human after all, are you?" The pixie strutted forward, her neon eyes glittering with glee.

A dozen excuses flashed through his mind, so he grabbed at the closest one. "I... I'm not one of you. I'm just older than I look. That -," he pointed at the screen, "- is from the seventies. So I'm..." He paused to do the math. Although time did add historical knowledge, it did not aid dismal math skills. "Sixty- oh. That isn't believable at all, is it?" The passage of time seemed much shorter when he spent most of it sleeping.

The pixie snickered, basking in his discomfort as if it was the Caribbean sunshine. Loch could not understand how a leader of a civilization at war would focus so much of her time on discovering warlocks. Did they really consider her a competent leader? At last, Trinity stopped giggling long enough to speak. "So, how old are you really? What can you do?"

Two of the pixie's pet warlocks sat in the booth behind her, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy. They were weak, like the rest. However, Loch could still maintain some of his privacy. He tried not to smile as he discovered an alternative route to remaining undiscovered. Trinity's only proof of his immortality was a video from forty years ago, which meant the Others were much more likely to believe that he was a weakling like the rest than an exasperated ancient.

"I'm around one hundred." She wanted to know what he could do, too. What were the most common warlock abilities? He had been in the human part of the world for too long; he could not remember anything but the fact that weaklings were limited to three abilities. "I can... electrocute, cast shadows, and create fire. But none of that matters, since I'm not working for you." Her smile dropped with a thud. He had figured out why she was so keen on outing him; they needed warlocks to win the war, and warlocks were in low and weak supply.

Before Trinity could retort with a law or a bribe for him to stay, a familiar voice cut through the static air. "I remember you!"