𝔱 𝔥 𝔢 𝔪 𝔞 𝔤 𝔦 𝔠 𝔦 𝔞 𝔫

[TEXT]: Please. Soon as you can. Thank you.

While the silver-tongued Priestess was commonly regarded aspolite and cordial, she was not one to waste time on frivolous social nicetieswhen the time did not call for them. That afternoon, the witch had been foundby members of staff pacing about her office and thumbing the buttons on herwhite suit jacket. A politician is duty bound to embody the exact opposite of whatthey are feeling when the public’s eyes are upon them, but behind closed doors –especially behind the heavy office doors of a tequila owned and operated by witches– a politician can let their guard down. Sweat a little.

Truthfully, despite the assured speech she had given at thelast town meeting, Adelita was a bundle of nerves. The recent series of disappearancesand horrific murders would have been enough to worry anyone, but as Matriarchto her coven Adelita was now making safety assurances, she had no way ofkeeping. Money and power mean nothing when you’re stumbling about in the dark.

In her twenty-eight years as a malevolent magic eater,Adelita had rarely come across a bewitched item that she struggled to consumeand render powerless. During her twelve years as Priestess there had yet to bea problem that she could not remedy. To say that feeling powerless was alien toAdelita, would be an understatement.

While waiting for Jamie, was unable to sit, and so she pacedher large office, working off her phone and Ipad.

Jamie didn't send a response, figuring that a prompt appearance would be enough to let Adelita know he was taking her request seriously. He didn't know what it was he was being summoned for, but he could imagine. Twice now Jamie had been present when darkness had fallen in Opulence, when the shadows had coalesced into something impenetrable, when sight failed and things moved in the dark to hunt. Somehow that frightened him more than what he'd been told of the mutilations done to the bodies. That was physical, tangible. The darkness was something else altogether.

Jamie's connection to his own magic, and the magic that he believed existed in all things had only grown stronger since his time in Opulence, all the sabbats, all the rituals, his careful practices rarely faltered. Even standing outside the distillery, Jamie could almost feel the hum of the magic inside, Adelita's presence not far away. If he set his hands to the stone that comprised the building he was sure he'd feel the spark there, all the power it had drunk in from standing as a sentinel for years. In that hospital, though, clinging desperately to a stranger, Jamie hadn't felt anything but a cold, slithering sense of dread.

Whether his face was recognizable, or Adelita had given her staff a heads up, Jamie entered the distillery and skipped the bar, making his way right to Adelita's office undisturbed. He knocked on the heavy wooden doors, a double-rap of his knuckles on the surface, and then, after a beat, pushed them open.

          “If you know what I mean then you could answer,” Hastalik pointed out. The other man’s slow movements felt like a dismissal of the validity of his worries. Jamie had never been easy, Hastalik wouldn’t pretend like he had been. Easy wasn’t what Hastalik was interested in and so it had never been something that got in the way of things but lying? Well lying, or skirting the truth, had been something Jamie had held so sternly against him that he’d been kept outside for weeks begging to be forgiven. He’d push past hard but it was hard imagining he had chosen to be honest with Jamie and the other man had thought he wouldn’t.

           “Why did you need to get these, Jamie?” he asked more directly this time. “I told you what had happened while I was gone, you feel like maybe you should be telling me something?” He wasn’t even sure who to accuse, his go to being Bella but Kemper seemed to think things had been going great between them when they’d reconnected upon his return.

Jamie's jaw tensed at Hastalik's words. He was right, of course, Jamie was stalling, trying to plan his words so far in advance, planning the conversation out like a chess game in his mind, three moves ahead, how he thought Hastalik would respond and how Jamie could bite back. Of course... Hastalik had always surprised him, and Jamie knew this was an opportunity, a chance for him to give Hastalik the honesty Has had always given to him, even when Jamie had punished him for it. Faintly, he wondered if he'd be the one sleeping on the porch that night, or if Has would let him take the couch in the library.

"I told you it wouldn't happen again." He started, but knew it wasn't enough, and so without giving time for Has to respond he kept going, reaching enough to actually take the papers in hand, a slow pull if Has would release them. "But something did happen. I slept with someone. Just once." As though that could make it sting less, as though that could possibly make Has loathe him a little less. "It wasn't meant to mean anything, and it didn't." That part was maybe less than true, because taking to bed had been meant to make him feel less alone, to stop the painful reminder that Hastalik was away from him, and might stay that way. It had served that purpose, but there was nothing else behind it, no wish to replace, as though that were even a possibility. Hastalik had made such an impression on Jamie's life that the elder witch knew there was no going back.

"No, actually."

"I have it."

"Order in, if those are my options."

"Really cooking meals myself is my favorite, or letting Has cook."

FLASHBACK || Has&Jamie

         “What is this?” Hastalik asked as he walked into the kitchen, Tali by his bare feet. In his hand he held the STI results that Jamie had received from the hospital. Hastalik knew it couldn’t be about him, they hadn’t had sex since his return a few weeks ago, the large man had been keeping his cock in his hand and trying to keep it hidden enough that his boyfriend didn’t feel poorly about it all. 

         Placing the paper on the table in their kitchen Hastalik was obviously distressed, a furrow over his brow. If the problem wasn’t so serious he actually might have looked sort of sexy, he’d come home from a photoshoot and immediately undone his black shirt so it hung loosely around his chest, sleeves rolled up and formal pants still on and buckled with a sterling silver buckle that matched the myriad of rings he wore. “I was trying to find my earnings for last month and this was in the drawer,” Hastalik stated.

          “It says your name and that you’re negative for chlamydia, gonorrhea, herpes, and a bunch of others, one that I’ve never even heard of,” Hastalik stated, one that seemed specific to werewolves from the latin used. “What the hell am I looking at, Jamie?”

@jamesoncollins·

Jamie didn't glance up at the intrusion, too focused on the steaks he was preparing for their dinner that night. Had he known what Has had in hand, his reaction would have been more immediate, but still in his blissful bubble of ignorance, Jamie only gave a curious little hum as he settled a glass lid over the dish containing the steaks and their marinade. It was a lucky thing, maybe, that he set the dish into the refrigerator before he looked up at Has, or he might have dropped it. He recognized the letterhead instantly, the layout of the paperwork so familiar to him by now.

Guilt and shame burned through him, but Jamie kept his movements steady, controlled. There was a part of him that knew that Hastalik had turned Jamie’s previous admittance onto himself, that the elder witch had been vague enough about his affair with Matthew that Hastalik might not have realized what Jamie had been telling him at all.

 Jamie had never had any notions about being a good person, or even a good partner. Hastalik might have been slowly convincing him that he had that potential within him, but Jamie knew most days it was still buried deep. He hadn’t corrected Hastalik’s assumption, hadn’t clarified his meaning, and had lived, peacefully, in that small space of plausible deniability. The bubble had popped, though, and Jamie was in free-fall.

Different answers clamored for precedence on his tongue, sharp words, sarcastic deflections, accusations. Jamie picked up a towel from the counter, wiping it over hands he'd recently washed, just to give himself something to focus on, somewhere to look that wasn't Hastalik. The topic was serious, but he still looked sexy, which Jamie found unfair.

Nicky experienced a brief moment of relief upon hearing Jamie had also lost his sight before he was plunged straight back into icy anxiety. If they had both lost the ability to see, then there was every possibility that what was happening was similar to what had happened at the last town event which had resulted in several people going missing. 

“Uhh…” at Jamie’s question, the wolf clenched his eyes shut and focused solely on his adept wolf hearing. All that Nick could hear was the continued beeping of hospital equipment, the scraping of chairs being pushed back as people hurried to their feet. Several anxious whispers mimicked similar conversations between other patients and staff members that Nicky and Jamie had just had, but the wolf could hear nothing remotely helpful.

When their vision returned, Nick blinked rapidly, trying to acclimate quickly and took in Jamie’s pale appearance. He kept one hand on Jamie’s shoulder, and used his gift to quickly ascertain whether the witch was experiencing anything other than shock. When it became clear to him that Jamie was simply as shocked and afraid as Nicky was, the doctor inhaled deeply.

“Fuck me, what was that?” he blurted outload. 

Breathing became an unconscious thing again as soon as his sight returned. In the darkness Jamie had been forced to concentrate, each expansion of his lungs a choice, a thought he'd forced his body to act on. The darkness had robbed him of his sight, but his fear had taken even more from him. Jamie had no awareness of the test results in his pocket, of what had brought him to the hospital in the first place.

He didn't know that the doctor's continued grip had any purpose but another person seeking comfort in the presence of another, as his own continued hold on the man was. Normally such an outburst would have made his lips twist, displeasure or something more petty on his expression, but this time Jamie only snapped his lips shut, a deep breath pulled in through his nose.

"I don't... I don't know. I mean that's... that's what happened at the Gala." Jamie looked over at the doctor, blue eyes still a little too wide. His grip, already tight, somehow intensified for just a moment as Jamie realized that they still didn't know why people were  being taken, and it struck him then how easily it could have been him. He thought about the way it had felt for him, waiting each night for Has to come home, and put Hastalik now in that place, on the small couch in the library, phone in his ringed hand, expecting a Jamie who wouldn't ever make it back.

The hallway seemed to tilt suddenly, and despite the loss of equilibrium, Jamie loosened his grasp on the doctor, and took a slightly staggering step sideways. He was still there, the doctor was, but that didn't account for everyone else. Jamie looked back down at the nurses station, the desk where he'd just picked up his results, searching for the round-faced, smiling brunette he'd just spoken to moments before. A paper cup of coffee had spilled somewhere in the blackout, a mess that had dripped down onto the floor, and from there...

Call to arms

Closed starter @jamesoncollins

Where: Sabor De Flores, Adelita’s upstairs office

Time: Late morning/early afternoon

It was not the first time Adelita had reached out to witches outside of the coven. As any smart witch would she had worked hard to foster positive relationships with all the witches within a two hundred mile radius of Opulence. It was however, the first time she had reached out for more than a social call, or an invite to social events and circle castings. 

This time, when the High Priestess pressed the words into a text for Jamie, the witch’s lips were pursed into a straight line, and there was a stern expression on her attractive, yet ageing face. 

[ TEXT ]: Can you come to Sabor De Flores this afternoon please? 

The text was plain, simple, straight to the point. Knowing Jamie as she did, she did not need to put on airs and graces for the young witch, he no doubt would have been waiting for her to call on his aid. 

Once the text was sent Adelita tossed the phone onto the desk in front of her and removed the glasses from her eyes. The witch only generally wore glasses when looking at a computer screen or when she was particularly tired. Though she looked the epitome of perfect health, Adelita could only thank the expensive concealer she had applied to the dark circles beneath her eyes that morning. While the residents of Opulence remained at risk from whichever looming presence was snatching them up and spitting their defaced carcases out again, sleep would continue to elude her.  

The need to stretch her legs became a strong one, and so guided by her body, the middle aged woman stood up and stepped out from behind her desk so she could stroll over to the large semi circle window in her office at Sabor De Flores, that overlooked the town centre. From that height and positioning, she could look out across the town. As often was the case, her dark almond eyes followed a silent instinct that she attributed to her position as matriarch of the coven, and her gaze fell on the familiar figure in the street. 

Jamie had crossed the threshold of Sabor De Flores many times before, though normally with no other goal in mind than a stiff drink and good company. This time he'd get the company, but he didn't expect a drink to come into the equation. Adelita's text message didn't exactly spell out doom and gloom, but Jamie didn't need the dark warnings from his cards to know that things in Opulence were only getting worse. If the head of Helka's was calling on him, though, he assumed it was for good reason.

The presence of covens was not to be underestimated in Opulence, Jamie had learned that early on when he'd moved to town, though it was never enough to sway him from his solitary practice. He'd grown to used to it, whether through his own self-inflicted isolatory lifestyle, or the admiration he still held for his mother's quiet rituals. Still, Jamie had gone to the covens to introduce himself in the beginning, met and befriended the witches around town who owned the various shops and bars and cafes. He invited local witches to celebrate the larger sabbats at his home and had personally given Adelita his number, in case she ever had need of him. Now, it seemed, that time had come.

He was already in town when the chime from his phone rang out, signaling the text from Adelita, and he cast his gaze over it briefly, the response sent quickly, without much consideration.

[ TEXT ]: Are you free now? I can be there sooner.

He'd never consider himself at anyone's beck and call, but with the darkness that seemed to be taking hold of their town, there was no reason to not make himself available to a strong coven who might have a shot at keeping the town safe.

Matthew lifted his eyes up at Jamie and couldn’t help but smile back with a touch of amusement, “Not wrong there,” he confirmed before lifting his drink to sip it again released a sound of shock as he drank it for good measure, “You mean you were only using it as an excuse to touch my hand?” He dropped the feigned emotion rather quickly though and opted for a grin instead, “Can’t believe I got snagged so easily,” he’d been looking for it so wasn’t actually all that surprising. He often found himself looking for strangers to distract himself with, beautiful people to know intimately for an hour or two and then forget about. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and distracted him for a moment as he quickly checked it to see a text from his buddy left at the booth saying he needed to piss for the last ten minutes and if he didn’t get his ass over there right now to watch the table then there was going to be a problem. Matthew tucked his phone back away and looked up at Jamie apologetically, “Shit, I gotta split. Do you still have my number?” He’d left it but wouldn’t have faulted Jamie if he’d tossed it, “You can text me when is a good time and I’ll bring you one of my most mediocre vases.”

Anyone else might have had the good sense to look ashamed, but Jamie only looked vaguely self-satisfied with his ruse. It wasn't the most elegant, but it worked well for him, obviously.

He was about to say more, something overconfident that he shouldn't have, about how they'd both obviously been looking for something and found it in one another. The buzzing of Matthew's phone saved him, and honestly both of them from trying to find a way to end the interaction on their own.

"Hmm? Yeah." Jamie said with a nod, when he realized Matthew's attention was back on him. "I'll text you." He was only actually half-sure he still had the man's number, but wasn't about to make a show here in the coffee shop about getting it. If he couldn't find it, he now knew he'd be able to track the other man down at the market the next week.

Not wanting to make him feel bad for approaching her, she shook her head quickly to reassure him, smiling at his apology. “No need to say sorry, I was just in a world of my own,” she explained. “It’s nice and quiet in here, I just got lost in my thoughts,” she murmured. 

His touch was feather-light, and there was something about it that intrigued Callie, her eyes following his every move as he took the box from her, watching him as he showed the box to her. She wondered how he knew so much about the little object, and considered asking him about it, not wanting to push him for too much information right off the bat. 

“A puzzle box?” She murmured, eyes widening. “It’s so beautiful,” she hummed, taking it back from him and turning it over carefully in her hands. “Do you know what it’s used for? Or is it just decorative?” She asked, her eyes moving from the box to his face. “It’s lovely to meet you too. Do you.. do you work here? Or do you just have a lot of knowledge about antiques?” She asked softly.

"Dangerous place to lose yourself," Jamie said, tone almost faintly chastising, though the grin he gave her seemed at odds with it. Jamie himself knew well the dangers of staying too much within his own thoughts. He'd been lucky to make new friends that could give him outside perspective, but still found it hard to ask for it.

"For keeping secrets," He said, turning to give her a playful wink before adding to the answer. "Spellwork, decoration, hiding your weed, it's for whatever you need it to be for."

He shook his head at her question, gaze sweeping over her features again, considering for a moment before he reached for the wallet in his back pocket. He flipped it open, nudging a business card from one of the slots, dark blue cardstock and metallic gold lettering. It was a rather flashy design, but Jamie had been informed multiple times that his appearance and attitude didn't align with his chosen career path. Maybe the card would help, as he pinched it between two fingers and offered it out to the younger woman as his other had put his wallet back.

         There was no way Hastalik was going to drink with this conversation, he needed to know what he was saying and be able to have the clarity of understanding what Jamie was, especially when it felt like the pair of them were so off balance with each other. It had never been this way between them, even when Jamie had been mad at him in the past for lying it felt like they’d always known exactly what would keep them together, even if they needed to remain angry.

          He did pour himself a glass of tea though as Jamie sat down, still at his feet, hearing Jamie’s question and figuring it was on him to start, to tell Jamie at the very least what had happened with the coven, why he’d been able to come back. There was a pause in his answer though, watching Jamie pour himself some whiskey and having to keep his mouth shut that maybe now wasn’t the time to be drinking.

          “Kaan isn’t dead,” Jamie stated, it seemed like the most important information, because while it didn’t relate to any action either had done that was specifically hurtful to the other Hastalik didn’t want Jamie assuming things were settled. “My father is. I spent the first month assimilating back into things, there was some issues with my magic not working because I’d…well I’d stopped using their magic,” Has admitted, his hand coming up and touching the back of his neck as his father had thought there was only one way to remind Hastalik of who he was. “Eventually they gave up, let me use my own, we went on a few missions and I was able to take out a few members of the coven that were loyal to Kaan, make it seem like accidents,” Hastalik paused, he’d assisted in the deaths of others before but never…never killed on his own, and the first time had taken him longer than it should have. Maybe he’d have been back with Jamie earlier if he hadn’t hesitated as he had.

         “Eventually I had enough people on my side, or maybe just more scared of me than them, I was able to get close to Kaan and my father alone. I took out my father quickly but Kaan stopped me, he’d apparently known I was coming and things got complicated…,” Hastalik told Jamie, eyes on the whiskey glass, half willing Jamie not to drink from it, not to show that any of what he was saying was changing how he saw him. “He reminded me of a prophecy from the old teachings, that if a high priest was to die at the hand of his heir immortality would flood the earth until all beings devoured one another with an unimaginable craving for blood…,” it sounded…crazy, and yet from the sternness of Hastalik’s face, the way he clenched his fist against the table, it was clear he was ashamed to have believed it. “So I used my fathers blood to encase him in a coffin of it, freezing him. I put him beneath the estate. I considered staying until I could work out a way to kill him without bringing about the prophecy, and I did for a few days, but a few coven members who were loyal to Kaan kept trying to get back into the estate, wanting to free him.

         Has swallowed some saliva in his mouth, eyes lifting to Jamie. “I saw how close it was the Valentine’s Day and all I could think was how I wanted to be with you, how I missed you and resented myself for even leaving,” Hastalik’s lips tightened with his words. “Resented the things I’d done so they wouldn’t -,” Has could feel his eyes getting wet as he reminded himself of his father’s words, screaming in his ear that he was weak, that each time he cried it would be another beating. He’d become a little boy against that first mouth back with the coven and it felt like the knowledge he’d come back to Jamie was the only thing that made him sure his father was wrong. “Resented what I did to make things easier on myself there,” he stated, the vagueness of that ease enough that he could inhale sharply to stop his tears. “It was three vampires,” Has told him, Jamie quite aware of what he’d done in the past. “Two died, one I was able to get a message to while we were alone, she had to drain me pretty close to death so my father wouldn’t think I’d done it on purpose but…she escaped and it got me closer to my father and Uncle.”

           Obviously he’d unloaded a lot of information on Jamie at once, had moved through it quickly so Jamie didn’t feel a need to fill silence with questions or remarks and maybe to save himself from being hurt if Jamie was upset with him for the choices he’d made, in the end he moved his hand slowly across the table, hopeful Jamie might be willing to take it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger,” Has insisted, wetness still lingering in his eyes. “If I was stronger I could have been home sooner, thinking of you was the only thing that even made me capable of doing the things I did but even then I was…weak.” 

Jamie waited until Hastalik was done with the tea, and then took the pitcher, topping the glass off, the ratio heavily in favor of the sweet, brewed beverage instead of the alcohol. There was a moment, with Hastalik's first words, where Jamie's gaze abandoned the work his hands were doing, a wayward splash of tea that almost overfilled his glass before he quickly set the pitcher down. He didn't know if it was a relief that Hastalik began first or not, especially when his explanation began the way it had, but there was no going back to change it.

Jamie stared across the table, taking in Hastalik's words. He visibly swallowed, holding back the instinctive urge to tell Hastalik he was sorry to learn of his father's passing, sure that it had been at Hastalik's hand. The words would have been empty, anyhow, borne of a societal norm, and not of any actual empathy for the man's passing. Jamie still remembered that first card he'd read for Hastalik, the sword aimed directly at a heart that had so much love to give inside that Jamie could drown himself in it. This time, Jamie could clearly say that the words were a relief. He was glad Efe was dead, and hoped he'd known it was his son that had done it.

His lips pressed to a thin line, again fighting the urge to interrupt, to tell Hastalik that he was proud he'd found his own magic, that it hadd severed him from the twisted work of his coven and was something altogether new and personal and perfect. He tried to imagine it, the man that Hastalik had become to make others fear him. He knew Hastalik had killed before, and was now being told he'd done it again, not because of the teachings that had been beaten into him, but of his own volition. He could see it, a little, a hazy, shadow-like version of the man who sat before him. But Hastalik had shown from the beginning that all he wanted to show Jamie was tenderness. Jamie could never see him as that violent, fearsome killer, not as he sat in the kitchen, Tali at his feet, emotion making his eyes shine as he talked of the things he'd done.

Shock showed clearly on his face, blue eyes widening at Hastalik numbered the vampires he'd been made to seduce so that he might kill them. He took in a deep breath, hands dropping from the table, curled to fists against his thighs.  He felt sick that he'd ever been jealous of those Hastalik had slept with before they'd been together, that even now some of that flared up within him, when it was so obvious that Hastalik was distraught, that he hadn't chosen his own actions. Jamie had. He'd been weak and melancholy and wanted to indulge in that, to use those emotions as an excuse to be selfish and disloyal.

"He came to my shop for a reading. He says it was fated and I always tell him he's too much of a romantic for his own good but..."

"It was after hours. I should have been closed. I went to turn out the lights so many times but something in me just felt that the day wasn't done yet, that there was more coming. I didn't feel that after he'd left."

{and we all know how that goes, don’t we?}

"I already have."

"And he brought his dog with him."

"No."

"I could see us inviting someone into the bedroom, but I'm not willing to open the relationship."

"Showers are daily, sometimes twice, if Hastalik is involved. Baths are for luxuriating."

"I wouldn't say a lot, but I know that those 'all-in-one' products marketed to men are no better than spicy-smelling dish soap."

      It stung, no doubt it would for a while, when Jamie pressed a kiss to his cheek rather than his lips but Hastalik attempted to take that in his stride. It was not Hastalik by any means to be so lacking in action. He wanted to push and get into Jamie’s space, but he was understanding this time was different to other times, which only hurt more because this time? This time he’d actually done the right thing, he hadn’t lied or hidden anything from Jamie, he’d done what his friend needed and the suffering felt like it may be endless.

         Stepping back, he moved to the table in the kitchen, taking a seat, legs immediately spread wide because they were so fucking long. Tali, of course, having missed him, nuzzled his bowl from where it had been placed across the floor and over to Hastalik’s foot, the bowl hitting his toes before Tali stopped and began to eat again.

        “Can we talk yet?” Hastalik asked, maybe pushing things too early but unable to wait much longer. It had been almost twenty-four hours since his return and the closest he’d been to Jamie was when he had been afraid at the gala. “I can’t…I can’t keep sitting here feeling like we both need to tell each other something and we haven’t.” 

Jamie had leaned in, hand against the familiar warmth of Hastalik's chest, brought them in close together to greet the man. He'd thought for a foolish, hopeful moment that he was actually doing something, that he was showing Hastalik improvement over just the course of a half day. It wasn't enough. Hastalik settled himself at the table instead, and for a desperate moment he considered joining Tali, begging for closeness and forcing himself near.

Instead he moved for the pitcher of sweet tea on the counter, so freshly-brewed it was still warm as Jamie set it onto the table, glasses already filled with ice retrieved from the fridge next, showing off more planning that he realized now amounted to probably nothing. How familiar a feeling that was.

Jamie didn't tense visibly at Hastalik's words, but it was a near thing, and did give him pause, even if his answer was a quick, "Yes, alright." The whiskey bottle hadn't been part of the initial plan, but Jamie fetched it anyway and it was sat next to the pitcher on the table before Hastalik. In any other moment Hastalik's lap would have been an inviting seat, but Jamie drew out the opposite chair instead, lowering himself into it with his eyes on the worn surface of the table.

"Where... Where do we start?" He asked, glancing up to meet Hastalik's gaze. He didn't know which was the better option, admitting his betrayal first or second. Was it kinder to be up front? Crueler to let Has open himself up, bare his soul and the terrible things he'd been no doubt forced to do, and then add insult to that injury? Had he thought of Jamie often? Was the idea of the man he loved waiting on him what had sustained him?