However, before moving against Shaker, before mustering forces and attempting to depose, there's a far more pressing matter. Supplies for my apartment.
Only going to make one trip so have to get a sack. Hangars, toss 'em in. Plates and silverware? Not when being carried around in a sack. Coffee press, single mug. Towel, here. Pillow, here. Sheets for a king sized bed. Bar soap. Anything else? Whatever, some plates and silverware, may clank a bit. A certain amount clanking is normal. Wait, blanket. Why are these all like this? Horrendous. Where's a normal one? There, flat grey. Less clank, too. Ringing it up, throwing the sack over my shoulder and heading back to the address of my new apartment. Going west and then south, coming in from a different side. Lights on in three oh one but no one peeping from the window. Key in door, and sack gently on floor. Unpacking, tossing the linens on the bed and heading back out.
She'd said there were restaurants a couple streets over. This is a nice cozy little neighborhood. Didn't see a restaurant on the street to the west, maybe up here. Yeah, there's a couple on this street. That one looks popular. Hi, I'd like a table for one. No, that's no problem, the bar's fine. I'll get the special and a pint. Cider? Yeah, that sounds good. Hmm, no one wearing field clothing. And their conversation, nothing important, just chatting about the upcoming festival during the street fair next cycle. Not the quickest service, but they are pretty busy. Excuse me, could I get a refill on this? And a water, too. Thanks. Ah, here we go. Pork chops with potato pancakes, brussels sprouts and roasted apples. This is great. The food definitely makes up for the slow service. Understandable why it's so busy. Definitely going to stop by for breakfast, before putting my armor on. Let's see, the meeting at Sam's is in an hour and a half. That's right, runes on the feet.
Hustling back to the apartment and getting my new grey blanket. Runic Circle. The question is, can the circle move. Looks like a repeating pattern, six different ones. No, wait. Making the circle larger in my mind. A start and an end rune, and then the four in the middle repeat. Creating a small circle on the blanket. Need two runes and there's only really room for one. Okay, delete, delete, scrunch 'em up. Activate. Jump in. Is it there? Don't feel different. Jump out. Jump in. Nope. Maybe it didn't like those last four being scrunched. Or maybe it doesn't like it on the blanket.
Okay, let's treat this whole situation with the seriousness it deserves. Grabbing the coffee table with the shield and dragging it out of the center of the room. Let's do three by three. A proper sized magic circle. Waving my hand and coloring in a larger spot on the floor. Shouldn't even need to wave that much, right? It's on my whole hand. Just hold it steady and change the angle a bit. That's way easier.
Now remove what the runes look like. Much quicker than doing the reverse. Alright, new battle tactic. It may look a bit more unsightly, but no reason not to just remove what the rune looks like and leave the remainder of the blot around it. When circumstances necessitate, of course. Need to be good at doing it both ways. Coming up on the end here, back up a little bit, fill it back in. There, the last four much less scrunched. Looks good. Now that is a professional looking magic circle. The outside edge aside. Clean up that edge.
Okay, New Circle Activate! Jump in. Nothing. Jump out. Jump in. Nada. Maybe it doesn't feel like anything. A knife feels sharper with the other rune, so maybe the floor feels even more floorlike? Whatever that would mean. The Runic Circle spell description says it increases success chance very slightly. So luck, but only a little bit. Don't feel any luckier. This is a problem. Obviously have to assume it's working because it took the mana just fine, both times. Scrunched up probably worked just fine. The ultimate placebo spell. Fortunately, not cost prohibitive enough to not always have active. Fourteen mana for eight hours. Sixteen hour duration when activated with Carve. No choice but to remake all those sets of shoes and inscribe the runes on the inside of each pair.
Wait, why sew the runes when the sole can just be Reshaped? Now that's a spell that needs some testing. Something simple, but need a material to work with. The coffee table. Hmm, no reason to ruin it. Maybe hold off entirely. What time is it? A bit less than an hour 'till. No reason not to start heading over early and take the scenic route.
Grabbing two more gold from the money pouch in my pack and then heading east from the apartment. Heading north toward the center of the merchant district. Curse-o-Vision active, a couple here and there, but not that many. And all them. Definitely still in the building stages. If Wolfe was inducted, those two people from Stormhawk and Haven we saw earlier today are probably Empaths, as well. Need to keep an eye out for more of us in the know.
Continuing west until almost at the edge of the district and then heading south to Sam's. Kitchen entrance, rolling up my short sleeve to the shoulder and then a quick blot, Rune Trap on my skin. Activating the secret entrance and then down the stairs.
Knocking on the door, the metal slat opening, and shortly following that, the door. A different guard.
“Welcome to Sam's,” he says, taking me in.
“I have a meeting with Sam.”
“What's your name?”
“Lucy.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Lucy, I'm Bill.” The guy reaching out his hand.
Glancing down and giving it a shake. “Hi.” Releasing. Waiting. “Can I come in? I've got a meeting with Sam at nine o'clock.”
“Well, hold on now,” he says, “let me check the list.”
This outfit has advantages and disadvantages. Wearing armor and having weapons visible definitely cuts a lot of bullshit, but it also puts my friendliness factor way down. This is far superior for deception, and better for keeping everyone's guard down, but learning to deal with people politely means putting putting up with a different kind of bullshit. Men are what they are, and that's life. Can't blame them for that.
“Yeah, you're on the list,” he says, coming back over. “You got a last name?”
“I've got whatever's on that piece of paper.”
“Do you have any weapons?”
“Nope, notta one. Know Sam doesn't like 'em.”
“Are you sure? You mind if I do a search?”
“Yeah, I mind. Where would I even put em? I'm here because I'm doing work for Sam. Stop wasting my time, or I'll stop being polite.”
These guards today are atrocious.
Being walked up to Sam's office and taking a seat in a chair facing his desk. Sam's new assistant, my new associate thing, wearing a different outfit today, skintight black, but still showing a generous amount of cleavage. Her instant recognition leaving some lingering surprise.
“Lucy, you look wonderful today, what's the occasion?” says Sam.
“I had a meeting with Shaker and managed to get my big problem with him sorted. How we looking for graveyard access?”
“You really seem to have taken to this well,” he says.
“Yeah, what else was I going to do? What's going on with graveyard access? Having it by day four next cycle is fairly essential. No Shaker in the way now, either.”
“All business, then.” Sam holds up his hands in apology. “I'll send a request to Wyrmsblood, and if your issue with Director Shaker has actually been resolved, then you should be fine to enter next cycle.”
“So who's this person I'm supposed to be working with?”
“A new associate of mine. A Ranger. He came recommended. I figure you'll be able to show him the ropes. He and you are going to track down specific things, and get you to do your thing to them.”
A Ranger.
“Who'd he get recommended by?”
“Your old friend, Davos.”
Stormhawk. Plenty of Rangers in Stormhawk. Got to be. Can't go five minutes without running into one.
“Okay.”
Sitting in silence for a moment.
“You know, I have a funny story about a Ranger in Stormhawk.”
“Yeah? Save it for him, he should be here any minute.”
“Oh, really?”
The door behind me opening. Any minute truly may mean any minute. Turning my head to see Sam's new associate and finding fate smiling upon me. My hungry boy. The guy giving me a brief glance, with no indication he recognizes me. Mainly his attention is on Sam. Walking up to the desk, hand out. Sam standing up and the two going through that ritual.
“Mr. Phelps,” he says, “I sincerely appreciate this opportunity. I'm not going to let you down.”
“Mr. Wilde, I've heard good things about you, and I'm sure you'll do fine. But, please, call me Sam.”
“Nico,” says Wilde.
“Well, Nico,” Sam says, “Lucy, here, is the person you're going to be working with.” Gesturing at me.
That's my cue. Out of the chair, hand out, a professional and placid smile on my face. Gracious in victory. No need to rub his nose in it. At least in front of Sam.
Wilde turning around and finally getting a good look. Puzzlement, then his eyes going wide. There's that recognition. Totally gobsmacked. Dumbly reaching out his hand.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“Nico? Nice to officially meet you. I'm Lucy. Happy to be working together.” Shaking his hand for him. Glancing around his should at Sam. “We actually ran into each other the other day, this is quite the coincidence.”
A flash of anger, and Wilde's grip suddenly crushing. Letting him do it, my expression staying fixed, my gaze returning to stare at him. Releasing his grip and then stiffly taking a seat in the other chair. Returning to mine while subtly clenching and unclenching my hand to try and get the blood moving again.
“Nico,” says Sam, retaking his seat, and oblivious to our exchange, “I was just starting to tell Lucy, but your task is to help her track down an assortment of different monsters out in the field, and to help her bring them down. I've got an initial draft of a list for you. A number are in some far flung locations, or difficult to find: Phase Beasts, Night Terrors, things like that. There's a whole list. Just so you understand, this is a longer term assignment. Do you think you're up for it?”
Wilde looking at me out of the corner of his eye, then back to Sam. “I think so,” he says. “But how is compensation going to work? That was never specified.”
“You eat what you kill. The arrangement I've got with Lucy is that she sells me all the little things that she makes, but the other materials you find out there are yours. If you find anything truly valuable, I'll certainly consider buying.”
“That's somewhat questionable. How valuable are the things that she makes?”
“Very. You stick with me and you'll find out the pocket change Stormhawk dribbles your way every cycle is just that.”
“We're all going to be quite rich,” Sam adds.
“Alright,” Wilde says, quickly glancing at me out of the corner of his eye again. “I'll try to stick it out for at least a couple cycles and see how it goes.”
“I think you'll be quite pleased. Now, Lucy, is anything else we need to discuss?”
“The graveyard was my primary concern. Otherwise, I think we're good.”
“Alright.” Sam selects a rather lengthy piece of paper from the clutter on his desk. “You two can discuss specifics, but let me know if there are any issues. Oh, that's right, Lucy, you had a story about that Stormhawk Ranger you wanted to tell me.”
Wilde glancing at me out of the corner of his eye again.
“That? A case of mistaken identity. Barely anything. Anyway, I gotta get going. Nico, let's chat on the way out.”
Standing up and getting the paper from Sam. Wilde getting out of his seat and both of us walking to the door. Glancing at each other once outside before walking back to the entrance. Waiting for him to get his equipment situated. Up the stairs and back onto the street.
“You really have a lot of fucking nerve-” he starts.
“You want to grab a pint?”
You promised me a good time. Here to collect. Raising my eyebrows. Well?
“Yeah, I'm parched, let's go,” he says.
Sitting at the bar at a nearby inn, a few streets to the north. Fresh pints in front of us.
“If we're going to be working together I want to clear the air.” Taking a sip.
“I'm absolutely furious about George,” he says, after drinking half his down.
“That's what I'm talking about. But you were being an asshole to me first.” Only a glowing response to that. “How long did you have him?”
“Almost a year.” The guy taking a gulp.
“Fuck, I'm sorry about that.” Taking my own gulp. Reaching out my hand and putting it on his arm. “That's a pretty long time for one of them. What've you been doing?”
“The House has me on patrol duty, but it's easy stuff. Totally nonthreatening. Making sure to clear around some farms and on the nearby roads. The same stuff, cycle after cycle. It's become a trickle of experience, if that.”
“So your commission's shit.” Nodding at that. “Makes sense why you'd want to do this.”
Sitting for a bit drinking, finishing our pints. Getting new ones.
“What're your days? I'm two, four and five. Prior commitments during the mornings on four and five.”
“One, four and five. Duty with the house on one and four, and I'm usually back in town by mid to late afternoon.”
“I'll clear up my commitment on five. If something is real far out there, we'll leave after your patrol on four. This list is no joke.”
“Let me see.”
Unfurling it and spreading it out on the bar.
“Yeah, these are, I haven't even heard of half this stuff,” he says, after spending a few minutes going line by line.
“There's all sorts of weird stuff.” Tracing, on my fingertip. Clearing a space and starting to draw on the bar. “Okay, so if Lumeer's right here, when we first head out let's start somewhere relatively close. Maybe here.”
“You've got all kinds of tricks, don't you?” Leaning back in his chair.
“I've got all sorts.” Tracing a little design on the back of one of his hands. “You think you might be interested in seeing some of them?” Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but clearly considering. “Nothing too dangerous.”
***
“I'm reawwy sowwy bout yo cat.”
My words and eyes teasing, my lips and tongue apologizing. Swishing my tongue around the head of his member, tracing the edge of his retracted foreskin. Grinning up at him and then engulfing it once again, savoring the masculine flavor. An unexpected and welcome surprise: only tipsy, at best, and the experience still as fun as it had been with Daniel. Suctioning, bobbing up and down, playing with the underside. The guy letting out a gasp and kneading my head with his fingers. He's so responsive -it's great to know when you're appreciated - and he really likes this. Finishing up my ditty on his sensitive banjo string. Reaching up and starting to massage, preparing myself for the upcoming eruption into my mouth. Ugh. Unfortunately, the consistency and potent taste no better. Unable to contain it all and some dribbling out. Giving him a thorough cleaning off before crawling up the bed. Putting my head on his chest while still holding onto his root.
“How's that for an apology?” Batting my eyes at him.
“That was a pretty good start.”
His hand reaching down, rubbing my entrance, finding me ready. Rolling me flat on my back. His digits pushing, teasing, and then sliding in, eliciting gasps. Feeling the fullness of his fingers. Excited, and more than slightly concerned, for what's going to be coming. Each motion in and out removing little bits of concern until there was none left.
His strong arms spreading my legs open. My remaining token resistance, my last bit of hesitation, to no avail. Prodding against my weeping opening. Pushing against it. Yielding and then resisting, prompting little whimpers to come from deep inside. Then giving way, being entered. Feeling so full, much fuller than his fingers. Forcing a series of sounds from my throat. Almost out, then back in. Filling me up. Then a final forceful thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating. Feeling so, so full. His pelvic bone resting on mine.
“Hey, bitch.” Leering down at me, his guttural growl confident and assertive. “How do you like that?”
His tone, his show of strength, sending my heart racing. Giving him a dreamy smile and wrapping my arms around him. “What're you waiting for?” A soft, urgent exhalation.
Every thrust sending waves of joy. Proving something to himself, and proving something to me. Forcing me to accept, and then to relish, my surrender. Suddenly picking up his pace and finding myself on the edge of a beach, with a massive cresting monstrosity on the edge of my vision, way out by the horizon. Coming closer. Towering over me and darkening the sky. Crashing down and sending me tumbling end over end, dragging me out with it into the surf. Finding myself sometime later near the edge of the shoals, as warmth and contentment radiate through me. The muscles in my arms giving little spasms, cramping up, my hands locked onto his shoulders. Sharing a long series of kisses, holding onto the moment, and then an emptiness as he pulls out.
Snuggling up close, clinging to him, trying to retain the sensation of togetherness. Absentmindedly running my hand through the hair on his stomach and feeling his abs underneath the coating of fat. Laying like that for a bit and resting.
“Are you seeing anybody?”
“No. No one permanent,” he says.
“Do you want to make this a one time thing or something more?”
“Are you offering more?”
“Y...” Screwing my eyes shut real tight, taking a breath to calm my nerves, and preparing for possible rejection. “Yeah, but I've got some ground rules.”
“And what're those?” Wilde turning on his side in order to face me.
“If we're going to be doing this I don't want to share. That's my number one rule, far and away. If you find someone else, then let me know and this will go to being strictly professional. I'll do you the same courtesy.”
“I can live with that.”
“Also, I'm not going anywhere near your House. No social visits. If I do have to go, only on business. I know a couple of you guys, and you're alright, but there might be property damage if I wind up over there.”
“I guess we can get a little rambunctious,” he says, with a cocky smirk.
“Right, but it also feeds into this last one. I'm going to give you a certain amount of leeway in private, but if you even dream of treating me that way in public there'll be consequences. I'll give you warnings, at first.”
“And what happens after the warnings.” His smile getting wider.
“It'll be absolutely terrible.” Smile gone. That recent death by ignition seeming to click once again in his head. “And then Sam will probably end up getting me a new Ranger. Or maybe a Monk. They've got magic hands.”
“Those are not too terribly unreasonable,” he says, after a few moments. “But, please, let me know when I'm running short on warnings.”
“You'll know.”
Laying with my head on his chest, listening to his heart, neither of us saying anything for about a minute.
“Okay, if you have a list of demands, then I've got some, too. You've got to work on your technique. I like your enthusiasm, but there was too much teeth.”
“That's- alright, that's fair. I'm mature enough to handle criticism.” Giving him a gentle squeeze. “You're going to help me though, right?”
“I'll put you on a regimen.”
“I can work with that.” Continuing to slowly coax him back to life.
A very surprised blink, but then a thoughtful nod. “In that case,” his face growing serious, “the only other thing on my list. You're going to help me find a new pet.”
“I suppose I owe you. You going to go with another cat?”
“I'm going for a clean break. I'm thinking a wolf this time, to help with tracking.”
Laying in bed for a minute more.
“Hey, so Nico is short for Nicolas?”
“No, it's, um...” Accepting his invitation. Dominic Wilde. “Huh, your name really is Macarthy.”
“The one and only.”
“I guess I shouldn't be surprised, and I guess that explains some of yesterday.”
“About that, I've been wondering about what you said.”
“About what?”
“You said you were going to fuck me for hours. That wasn't just talk, right?”
“Nah,” he chuckles, “I've definitely still got at least a couple more rounds in me.” His fingers starting to pinch and tickle, and then flipping me on my stomach.
Letting out a giggle. “Don't be so gentle this time.”