Page 10

Chapter 10

Clack-clack-shuffle-clatter-clack.

Rowan’s eyes cracked open. Sleep had only been a whisper away, scared off by the noise. Probably just as well. It had been a crapshoot if his dream would be a nightmare, or erotic. Lately it had been erotic which was far more welcome than the shade.

He boosted himself up on his elbow groaning out a drowsy, “Hello?”

Nothing. The crackling fire cast a dim orange hue. Slowly spinning bits of glass dangled from the festooned branches, glimmering like stars. A lovely sight to wake up to. He inhaled, the cool scent of pine before laying back down.

The commotion must have been Maximus. He was known to scurry to the kitchen for a midnight trash raid. making as much noise as his little paws could. Rowan rubbed his temples. If he closed his eyes now, he’d doze off and be in dreamland in no time. Though Dreamland capital was Dicktropolis, population Callum and Rowan.

“You’re going to wake up with a hard on again,” he grumbled pulling his blankets over his shoulder. He melted into the mattress, his breath slowing. The soft sound of the wind outside grew faint as the world faded away.

Clack-clack-shuffle-clatter-clack!

Rowan shot up, throwing his blankets aside. Whatever the hell was making that noise was in the hallway. “Maximus?” He called, expecting him to trot in with a half-eaten chicken leg in his mouth. He waited, holding his breath.

Cold tickled the back of his neck. Rowan swallowed, as a shadow wavered in the corner of his room, billowing like a cloak. He waved away away the chill, scooting to the foot his bed to stare into that dim corner. The shadow twirled into shape. Two long limbs. A long neck. A narrow skull. It lifted its head, wisps of black flittering into the air. Rowan’s blood turned to ice as a wide grin split the darkness, filled with long dagger like teeth.

“Shit…” Rowan scrambled backwards, back slapping his headboard. The air was sucked from his lungs, a cold dense as death shrouding his flesh. He shoved his hands over his eyes curling up in tight ball. “You’re not here!” he whimpered. “You’re not here! You’re not in this world!”

The clatter dashed past his door, ending in a thundering ker-thud. Rowan tore his hands away. The corner was empty, only a faint billow of curtains before stillness. The chill was gone, the fire warming his skin once more. “What the hell?” Was he dreaming? He had to have been dreaming. That thing was a shade. It couldn’t cross the veil.

Clack-clack-kerfuffle-clack-scraaaaaaape.

Once again, the ruckus sped past his door followed by an irritated grumble of “Damn you!”

Okay, that noise was definitely not a dream. And Rowan knew that voice all too well. “Cal?” he called. He waited for a response but only got another symphony of thumps and clatters. “Cal, are you alright?” He slid to his feet, creeping towards his door. “Are you having a panic attack?”

Rowan reached for the knob. Bang! The door bowed inward, as if someone was thrown against it. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Fuck!”

He threw open the door and was smothered by scarred flesh as Callum slammed into him. They sailed across the room, the satyr’s massive bulk pancaking Rowan against the far wall. He feebly shoved Callum only to be thrown backwards, black hair catching in his mouth. “Callum!” Rowan choked.

“I have this under control!” Callum bellowed.

“Have what under control?!” He tried to squirm his way free, but Callum shoved him back, his broad form shielding from only Gods know what. “What are you doing?!”

“Just stay behind me, Witch-boy! It will all be fine- Watch out!” Callum tossed him onto his bed. Rowan bounced before flopping onto his belly, flailing in the blankets. He sat up to see Callum crouched low, hands out in a placating manner towards a huge antlered beast. “Easy, Broderick.”

“Is that a stag?!” Rowan leapt up, wobbling on the mattress, the blankets still clinging to his legs. “Did you let a stag in?!”

“Worry not! I have this under control!”

“That’s not an answer!” The stag turned its wild eyes to Rowan. It reared, hooves cutting the air before it charged. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rowan rolled off the bed just as it hit. It kicked the footboard into splinters then turned in a blind panic, bucking and thrashing. The house rumbled as it woke, floor rippling, windows slamming open and closed. The hearth roared and the stag screeched in terror.

Callum threw Rowan over his shoulder just as the stag tangled himself in the curtains. He hauled him into the hallway, kicking the door shut, “Are you all right?” he asked, placing Rowan on his feet. Crash-tinkle-tinkle-crash! Bang! Callum winced. “I believe that was your window breaking.”

The gaslights bellowed, flames cracking their sconces. Every bedroom door blew open, except for Rowan’s, the shocked cries of his siblings exploding in the air. Rowan took a deep breath before he could to scream. His sharply raised finger made the satyr step back. As patiently as he could, he asked, “Why…did you…bring a stag…into my bedroom?”

“He was supposed to stay downstairs,” Callum replied, as if that was reasonable and sane.

“Still not an answer, Callum!” Rowan snapped then caught himself, sucking in another breath through his flaring nostrils. “Sorry. Let”s just figure out how to get it-”

“What in the hell is going on?!” Ivy ran into the hallway, trying in vain to get arms into the sleeves of her robe. Maximus scrambled on her heels, chittering loudly. “Is everyone okay?! What is that noise?!” Rowan’s door exploded in a rain of shrapnel and the stag galloped free, dashing down the hall. Ivy pressed herself against the wall as he sailed past her. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” Maximus jumped in front of Ivy, hissing with hackles raised. “Max! No!” Ivy commanded. But the raccoon only released a furious battle chirp and threw himself right upon the stag’s face.

The stag’s piercing bleats made Rowan cover his ears. It bucked, desperate to shake Maximus loose, gouging holes in the wall with each thrash of its antlers. Rowan belly flopped to the floor before he was kicked, dragging himself through the ruckus to a bewildered Ivy. “Someone get it out of the house!” he shouted, shielding her from rogue hooves.

Callum grappled the stag by the neck, peeling Maximus free and tossing him to Ivy before gently petting the stag’s chest. “Easy Broderick. Easeeeeaaah!” He was flipped onto his back as the stag spun with him like a hungry alligator. The house shook, Rowan pressing his hands to his face as he gaped at the bodies rolling past. Items spilled from Callum’s pouch in a trail of shiny jewelry bits, feathers, and small bottles of his calming potion. Calming potion!

Rowan crawled after them, covering his head as Callum’s tail whipped the air. He groped and cursed, one potion rolling under the fight, shattering under the stag’s rump. The other was just barely out of reach. Rowan stretched out on his belly, straining to reach the bottle. A stray hoof slammed down inches from his face, catching his talisman. He jerked back then stretched again, the bottle inching forward with each of Rowan’s clumsy gropes. “Almost! Almost!”

Finally, he caught it between his fingers, his hysterical laugh of triumph interrupted by Callum falling beside him with a thud. Rowan uncorked a bottle with his teeth, splashing the silvery blue liquid into the stag’s face. He grabbed Callum by the arm, dragging him away as stars filled the beast’s big brown eyes.

“Good thinking, Witch-boy!” Callum praised, only to blush at Rowan’s agitated glare.

Ivy stumbled over, struggling for breath as she checked Rowan over for wounds, Maximus on her shoulder, puffed up like a balloon. The three of them watched the stag stagger to the floor, snorting the entire way. He lay his head down, eyes fluttering closed. Then he started snoring.

Finn clacked his way up the stairs. “Brother! I’m finally here! Did it work? Did Rowan like-?” His wide grin dropped as he surveyed the wreckage. He jabbed a thumb towards Callum. “It was all his idea.”

“Just put him back where you found him!” Ivy shouted.

“I can’t.” Callum rose to his hooves, hovering over the stag to examine him. “He’s a gift for Rowan.”

“A gift?” Rowan’s voice wavered with nervous squeaks. “W-what am I supposed to do with a stag?!”

“He’s your familiar.” Callum offered him a sheepish smile. “I asked him on your behalf, and he said yes. But then panicked as soon as he got inside.” He flicked his fingers to the stag. “How was I supposed to know he was frightened of ceilings?”

Rowan inhaled slowly through his nose, counted to ten this time, then slowly released the breath. Okay, that was sweet in the most backwards way possible but considering his room had been destroyed, sweet gestures were the last thing on his mind. “Couldn’t you have picked something smaller?”

“Go big or go home.” Callum declared with a jut of his chin.

Rowan blinked. “…What?”

“Can we please get him out of here before he wakes up and destroys the house again?” Ivy asked.

Finn took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles “Fear not, Witchling. I’ll fix my brother’s blunder.”

“Blunder?!” Callum stomped towards Finn only to be stilled by Rowan’s outstretched arm. “You said this was a good idea!”

“I said I would help you, not that your idea was good,” Finn replied. “There is a difference.”

Rowan pinched his forehead. “Finn, could you not right now?”

Finn bowed in mea culpa. He scooped up the stag, draping it across his shoulders as if it weighed nothing. “Off we go, sir! Witchling, please get the front door for me?” They walked down the stairs. Well, Finn walked. Ivy stomped, her fury pinging the back of Rowan’s head, matching his own.

Rowan peered into his bedroom. Curtains were torn down, his bed and dresser nothing but kindling, and his clothes were flung in every direction. Yet what upset him the most was his nest. The one thing that had brought him an ounce of peace was reduced to fallen branches, and trampled baubles. At least the sex tree was all right, sans a few hoof scuffs. Of all the things to be relieved about, Ro. He turned to Callum ready to unleash but the satyr’s ears drooped, along with his shoulders as a sad hiss whistled through his fangs.

“You’re not pleased,” Callum grumbled.

“You’re right.” Rowan clutched his talisman, running his thumb over the sigil in fast circles in hopes to calm himself. “I’ll have to sleep on the couch for a while.”

“You could sleep in my wing.” Callum withered at Rowan’s glower. “That isn’t the reason I brought him here. I wanted to give you a gift. A familiar.”

“Why do you think I need a familiar?!”

“Aster said you’d always wanted one.”

“Gods dammit, Aster.” Rowan’s cheeks puffed, then let out a long raspberry. “Look, Cal. I’m sure the stag-”

“Broderick.” Callum interrupted.

That knocked the dissent right out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The stag’s name is Broderick. From a long line of Brodericks he told me. I believe he’s Broderick the Ninth.” Callum’s ears flattened to his skull, and he gestured to Rowan like a spokesmodel. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Ok. I’m sure Broderick the Ninth is a great guy,” Rowan replied. “But you should’ve asked me first.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“I don’t want to be surprised!” Rowan snapped. “Especially if a claustrophobic stag almost tramples my sister!” He took another inhale, pulling back his anger. “Its fine. I’m fine, but…”

A chip of pewter fell from his neck, bouncing off his bare toes with a soft plink. Rowan looked down to his talisman. A chunk had been gouged from it, probably from the hoof that almost stomped his face in, his father’s sigil marred with cracks. Broken. His talisman was broken.

Rowan cradled what was left of it in his shaking palms, throat thickening. “No…” he whispered quickly grabbing the piece and jamming it back into place, hoping it would magically mend itself. “It’s okay, it’s fine! Ivy can help me put this back together, I’m sure!” Callum reached for him but Rowan pulled away, his talisman clutched in his fist. “It’s fine!” he shouted. “Don’t touch it! It’s fine!”

Callum looked to his hooves. “I angered you.”

“I’m not angry! I’m just...!” Rowan pulled his hair. The shade. The stag. The fucking dreams that kept him awake. And now the last memory of his parents was broken. No number of deep breaths would quell the volcano inside. He threw up his arms, cracking wide open. “Okay yeah! I’m angry! I’m really pissed right now! You keep doing this stuff that’s totally out of my wheelhouse and I don’t know what to do with it! I never had anyone go this far or do…!” He gestured to the gored walls and hoof scratches. “All this! For me? Why?! Why am I so damn special to you?! How am I supposed to react to all this…this…” Adoration? Sweetness? All these wonderful but weird-ass gestures that I don’t deserve! Fuck! Rowan slumped against the wall, banging the back of his head against it. “Gods, this is confusing!”

A gentle hand slid to his lower back. Rowan didn’t have the strength to fight Callum as he pressed his forehead to his. Dammit why did this have to feel so good? Why couldn’t he just walk away.

“I do this for you because you don’t even know how special you are.” Callum whispered. “You’re selfless and kind. That is why you deserve these gifts and my attention. Can’t you see how amazing you are, Rowan? What else can I do to convince you?”

Rowan stilled, furious at the warm fluttering butterflies that decided to take flight inside him. He buried his face in his hands, head swimming in circles. You don’t deserve this! You don’t deserve him! You shouldn’t let him make you feel so good!

Callum squeezed Rowan’s waist, brows knitting into a soft frown. “I went too far.” He looked to the floor, his tail twitching. “I should have listened to your sister and gone gentle and slow. But this is all I understand. I don’t know your customs, but this is what I’d done for Orlaith. It had won her all those years ago so I assumed it would win you.”

A cold shocking wave crashed over Rowan. He peered at Callum through his fingers. “Orlaith?” That was a name he’d never heard before. And it slid from Callum’s lips with such reverence. “Who’s Orlaith?”

Callum turned beet red. His tail slapped the wall and he released Rowan, taking a step back. “I never told you of her, have I?”

“No,” Rowan rasped. “Should you have told me about her?”

Callum looked away. “Yes. I should have.”

Rowan fell into a sit, fingering the scuff marks on the floor. “What the fuck is happening with my life right now?!” A scream cut through the night, high and frantic, curdling Rowan’s blood. He paled recognizing the voice, knowing exactly what door it was coming from. He scrambled to his feet, taking a couple stumbling steps before another scream urged him to run. “Aster!”