Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Wheeler Starts a Fight

Wheeler watched on from the shadows. He knew Mulock was perfectly capable of protecting himself, but still he found himself refusing to move until he was sure the demon would be alright.

"I haven't seen you around here before," the man murmured. His voice was so low Wheeler had to practically strain his ears to hear it.

Mulock didn't respond, simply giving him an uninterested glance over the edge of his glass.

An unnerving smirk tugged at the corner of the man's thin lips. "Silent, huh? I like that in a woman."

The words made Wheeler's skin crawl.

"So," the man continued, "how does a pretty thing like you end up in a place like this?"

Mulock ignored him and moved to turn away, but the man roughly grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him.

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore a man when he's talking to you," he said icily.

The hand that had been on Mulock's shoulder slipped lower now, trailing down his back. Watching it made Wheeler want to vomit. The demon's expression remained blank but Wheeler could see his grip on the glass tighten slightly.

"I know plenty of girls like you," the man purred. "You look delicate, but really you want someone to treat you roughly." He leaned forward, his mouth a breath away from the demon's ear as his hand drifted to his waist. "You want someone to fuck you till you break."

Wheeler hadn't even realized he'd started moving until it was far too late, a hot, seething anger erupting in his chest.

"Excuse me, sir," Wheeler said sharply, "but that young lady is clearly uninterested."

"Fuck off," the man replied, not even bothering to look at him. "This doesn't concern you."

"Really?" Wheeler snapped. "Because I think the well being of a helpless young lady concerns me a great deal."

"I said, fuck off."

"No, I won't," Wheeler retorted, his voice tight with anger. "You can't get away with treating her like that." He took a step forward, his hands curling into fists. " It seems to me you won't respect her wishes because you know that no woman alive would ever willingly be with a bastard as cruel and monstrous as you."

From the look in the man's eyes, Wheeler had finally struck a nerve.

Slowly the man rose to his feet, his gaze seering into Wheeler. "Let me speak plainly," he growled. "If it's a fight you're trying to start, you don't stand a chance. I wield a good amount of power in these parts." As he spoke, the man's hand absently rubbed the golden eye on his neck. "Men like me, we take what we want whenever we want it." His other hand fell to Mulock's thigh, fingers brushing down the length of it. The sight caused Wheeler's blood to boil. "And there's no way someone like you could ever stop me."

Wheeler had grabbed for his wand before he could even register what he was doing. "Imațtərə."

The moment the spell left his mouth, the man was violently flung across the room. He slammed into the wall with a crash, sinking down into a crumpled heap on the floor.

The attention of everyone in the club instantly snapped to him and all Wheeler could do was simply stand there, eyes wide in horror at what he'd just done.

"Wheeler," Mulock hissed, "you do realize the only reason I wasn't fighting him off was so that we wouldn't bring attention to ourselves."

Wheeler buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"Well," the demon muttered. "I suppose the only thing I've learned from this night is that men are pigs and it's absolutely horrid to be a woman."

Slowly, the man rose to his feet, his eyes blazing all while the rest of the club watched on in eager anticipation.

Wheeler swallowed hard, a horrible sinking feeling building within the pit of his stomach.

The man started to lunge towards him, when all of a sudden he froze, his jaw tightening as his gaze locked on something behind them. Wheeler frantically spun around to see a man standing there. He was older, but his face still held the good-looks of his youth despite a thin scar stretching across the length of his cheek. Dangling from one ear was an earring displaying the same golden eye as the others. From the way the Oculus patrons watched him in dead silence, it was clear he carried some sort of authority.

He glanced at the onlookers, absently waving one hand. "No need for you all to look so shocked. Go back to enjoying your night." He turned to the awful man who'd persued Mulcok, casting him a pointed glare. "That includes you, Conell."

The man, Conell, hesitated a moment before finally giving a stiff nod, disappearing into the darkness of the club once more.

Slowly but surely the Oculus's chatter resumed. The music stirred back to life, and everything returned to normal as if the altercation had never even occurred.

"Apologies," the scarred man murmured. "Conell really needs to learn some proper manners." He extended a hand. "The name's Arlo. I'm the owner of the Oculus." Cautiously Wheeler reached out to take it. Arlo's hand was rough and calloused with a grip so firm that Wheeler's hand ached when it was finally released.

"So, you're a magic user," Arlo said with an easy smile. "We don't see many around here."

"Uh... yeah," Wheeler said nervously. "I am."

Arlo was watching him intently, a clear interest in his gaze. There was no doubt in Wheeler's mind this man had something to do with all of this. He just needed to figure out a way to make him talk.

Wheeler gestured to Arlo's earring. "So," he said slowly. "You're a follower of the Golden One too?"

A flicker of something unreadable passed over Arlo's gaze but his smile never faltered. "You know of the Golden One?"

"Of course," Wheeler said, hoping with every ounce of his being it wasn't obvious he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "That's, uh... actually why I came here tonight."

"Really?" Arlo asked.

Wheeler gave a stiff nod, attempting to continue bluffing as best he could. "Yes, um... I want to further express my devotion. Unfortunately I'm err... fairly new to the whole thing so I don't really know how. I thought coming here I might find the answers."

Arlo's expression suddenly changed, an almost reverent look overtaking his gaze. His hands came together, fingers lacing as he looked up to the heavens. "The Golden One truly is great," he breathed. "We were told we still needed one more and then suddenly you appeared. It's as if you were sent by the Golden One himself."

Arlo's eyes locked with his, the man's gaze so intense that it took everything in Wheeler's power not to squirm or cower back.

"So," Arlo said slowly. "You truly want to dedicate yourself to him?"

Wheeler swallowed hard. "Yes," he replied, praying Arlo couldn't hear the tremble in his voice. "I'm ready to do whatever it takes."

To his shock, Arlo suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "Bless you," he whispered in his ear. "In a month's time the Festival of the Raven begins. We'll send for you then. On that day you may follow the beautiful destiny the Golden One has graced you with."

Finally he released him from his grip, leaving Wheeler completely dumbfounded as he stared back at him wide-eyed.

"As much as I'd love to chat all night, I'm afraid I have something I must attend to," Arlo said, his tone unnervingly casual after the exchange they'd just had. "But we will meet again soon, that I promise."

"Wait!" Wheeler blurted. "You don't even know my name. How will you find me?"

"Don't worry," Arlo said with an easy smile. "I see everything around here. No matter where you may go, I'll be able to find you, Wheeler Trevil."

And with those words, he disappeared into the darkness once more, leaving Wheeler with a horrible feeling of dread clawing at his gut.