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Ethan wearily climbed the stairs to his rooms after a particularly grueling tutorial, but, catching sight of the folded note shoved under the loose corner of the number on his door, he quickened his pace. There were three words in the barely legible, left-handed scrawl that was Giles’ writing: I did it!
Ethan sank to his knees on the landing, clutching the note in suddenly sweaty hands. A frisson of fear ran up his spine, lodging as an icy ball in the vicinity of his stomach, which clenched in response.
The trial wasn’t to be until the weekend! They would rest and fast and prepare, using a variety of protection spells culled from various sources. The summoning of Eyghon was to have been attempted as a group—with safeguards in place. What had possessed Ripper to try it alone?
Possessed. . . Ethan was horribly afraid he knew the answer, and his stomach rebelled as the icy fist inside squeezed and Ethan vomited the remainder of the contents all over the landing. His body was seized by spasms of fear and he continued to heave, long after his stomach had been emptied. A rank, oily sweat covered his body and dripped into his eyes. He dashed an arm across his face and shakily pulled himself to his feet. He let himself into his rooms and rinsed his mouth, then drank a glass of water.
Locating a plastic garbage bag and handful of paper napkins, he cleaned up the mess on the landing, stripped off his filthy clothes, adding them to the garbage bag, and stepped into the shower.
He stood under the tepid water, tears running down his face, mingling with the rivulets of water. When he had cried himself out, he stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth. He was still shaking with fear for Giles—he couldn’t seem to stop. Drying himself off, he hurriedly dressed and began to make his way to Giles’.
He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he found he was running.
Giles had done the research and done it well. He was bloody good at it, wasn’t he? And why shouldn’t he be? He came from a ‘Watcher Family’ and was expected to enter the ‘family business’; one of a long line of Gileses, spending their lives ‘watching’ instead of ‘doing’. Sod that! There was power here; rich, seductive, darkling power that filled up all the empty and lonely places inside one who could wield it. And he could!
He absently rubbed his arm bearing the tattoo he had gotten in London last weekend. The mark was the key—he’d figured it out. And he’d tell the others on Friday. He’d take them all to the tiny shop on the waterfront to get their marks, and they’d summon Eyghon as planned.
He opened the key book he had found at a used bookseller on Portobello Road and read the passage again. “Eyghon can only exist in this reality by possessing an unconscious host. Temporary possession imbues the host with a euphoric feeling of power. Ancient sects induced possession for bacchanals and orgies. . .”
Giles grinned. Sex and power—sounded like fun! He’d look a right berk if he got the whole group together and it didn’t work. Shouldn’t he just make sure. . .
Giles closed his eyes and easily slipped into a meditation trance.
Clutching the stitch in his side, panting and gasping, the sense of urgency spurred Ethan on.
Catching sight of the building in which Giles had rooms, he pushed himself to go faster. The entire building crackled with magickal, green energy. Ethan wondered if others could see it—he certainly could.
Bursting through the door, he saw Giles hovering two feet off the floor, encased in the electric green shimmer. For a moment, he saw a leprous face with large, pointed ears, superimposed over Giles’ familiar visage, and then it was gone.
Giles seemed to float back to earth, the energy dissipated, his eyes focused and he saw Ethan. He held out his arms and Ethan threw himself at Rupert, clutching his shoulders, holding back sobs.
“What have you done? I was so worried. . . I was afraid something had happened to you. . . what have you done?”
“Shush,” Ripper murmured, stroking Ethan’s hair. Ethan buried his face in Giles’ neck, and missed seeing the unnatural green glint in Ripper’s eyes.
Eyghon was gone, but what a rush! He could still feel the after-effects of the dark magick coursing through his body. This was power! Ripper felt strong. . . invincible. . . aroused. I can do whatever I want! He looked down at Ethan. With whomever I want!
As Ripper continued to stroke his hair and back, Ethan felt the icy cold fear encompassing his body being replaced with desire. He raised his head and Ripper roughly captured his mouth. Ethan’s fingers dug into Giles’ shoulders as the kiss bruised his mouth. He parted his lips as Ripper’s tongue thrust into his mouth and he welcomed it gladly. Ethan’s cock hardened as Giles’ passion seemed to mirror his own.
Thrusting and sucking at each other’s mouths, they staggered over to the couch. Ripping at each other’s clothes, they managed to undress without breaking the kiss. Ethan felt the arm of the couch against the back of his legs and tore his mouth from Ripper’s to run his tongue down his neck instead, biting and sucking along the path of his tongue.
Knocking over three candles and a jar of herbs in his haste, Ripper scrabbled for the bottle of ambergris oil he knew had to be there. He pulled the cork with his teeth and the scent of the sea, mysterious and timeless, filled the room.
Grabbing Ethan’s shoulders, Ripper spun him around, bending him over the arm of the couch. Ethan gasped as Ripper roughly entered him from behind, cock wet and slippery with the oil. Ethan thrust back against him, as he felt Ripper’s left hand close around his own cock. Ethan braced himself with both hands on the couch as Ripper thrust into him again and again, hand squeezing harder with each thrust.
Ethan felt his orgasm spiraling out of control and bit through his lip to keep from coming until Ripper was ready. He heard Ripper groan as the next thrust brought his release and Ethan gratefully dropped his own mental controls. Completely spent, they collapsed together onto the couch.
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Ethan awoke cold and sore and alone.
When he opened his eyes, it was dark outside, the light from a street lamp shining through the window providing the only illumination. His head was cricked at an unnatural angle and his legs and abdomen were itchy with dried semen. He tried to get up, but discovered his arm had fallen asleep and refused to bear his weight.
Inching backward on his belly, he felt the rough tweed of the couch abrading his cock, but finally managed to touch his feet to the floor. Shakily standing, he gripped the back of the couch for support.
Ripper was gone. Ethan felt the icy fear return. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense Ripper’s essence.
“Please let him be alright, please let him be alright. . .” he murmured over and over to any god listening.
A picture formed in his mind. It was Giles, striding through an alley in Oxford, brash, cocky and filled with the euphoria of his use of dark magick. In the vision he wore two faces—that of Rupert: witty sarcastic, with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a refusal to abide by the rules simply because they were ‘Rules’; and also Ripper—dark, dangerous, drunk with his own power, but also exciting, edgy and incredibly sexy. His long strides carried him through the night, passing by a couple passionately pressed together in a doorway. The moonlight glinted on platinum blonde hair, and the man raised his head and stared at Giles with icy blue eyes. He growled. The face of Ripper was ascendant, and Ripper’s lips curled back in a snarl of his own. Raising one eyebrow, the man gave a sardonic grin and turned back to the woman with him. He buried his face in her neck as Ripper strode on.
Ethan sank to his knees and prayed to the most appropriate god he knew.
“Protect him. Janus, keep him safe and undamaged. Protect him, save him from himself and I will be your devoted servant. Hear me, Janus! For as long as you keep Rupert Giles safe from harm, I will serve you. I pledge you my life!”
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Continued in Chapter Five
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