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“My heart will always be yours, my flame. You will destroy me over and over again, and I will love you regardless. That is my curse—my punishment. Until the day my heart is returned to where it belongs, I will be in endless suffering for your love.”
Strange, maybe, but at least I hadn’t hired someone to find a centuries old necklace I lost, just to drape it around the throat of the woman choking on my cock. But different tastes, I suppose.
She thrived in social situations, and she wasn’t happy unless surrounded by music and bodies and noise. Even knowing I was autistic, she still didn’t understand why I struggled so much with the same concepts, even if she did try to accommodate them.
That’s the problem with having an ancient eldritch being posing as your shop and home, unfortunately. She had a mind of her own, and when the Belamour got something into her metaphorical head, she was as stubborn as the stone she was built on.
The floorboards beneath me shifted and I stumbled to catch my footing, glaring down at them. “Yeah, alright. I’m going. Don’t get your studs in a twist.”
I found myself in a section of the shop that the Kid had dubbed “the Closet.” It was exactly as it sounded—a corner full of various clothing items I’d collected over the years and had no need to keep for myself. Belts worn by a famous siren in the sixties. Some eighth century pope vestments and rosaries. A leather jacket gifted to a pianist by a muse in the eighties, though my source on that one wasn’t exactly the most reliable.
If I was a different man, I might have felt underdressed with my dark hair tossed half up in a messy bun and my beard untrimmed from weeks of living in dusty catacombs. At least I was clean.
“I wonder if it’s mink,” the man muttered to himself, lifting the coat closer to his face as if he might find a tag inside. “Those are expensive, right?” “It’s selkie, actually.”
I found him interesting to watch—the way the sun cast streaks of light through his hair as it fluttered around him, the way his many rings glinted with the scattered colours of the ceiling lanterns. Greyson was animated when he talked, all flailing limbs and short bursts of pacing before he froze for half a second, turned, and started again. It wasn’t unlike watching a bird strut around, squawking some random tune it had picked up in the woods.
“To top that off, Remy—my niece—” he clarified off-handedly, “says she’s missing a dragon egg! A dragon egg! Like—I just found out that magic existed and you’re just going to throw dragons at me? No lead in, no gentle guidance. Just flippin’ toss me in the deep end, why don’t ya? Who does that? An eight-year-old, that’s who—”
I kind of really just need help, and right now you’re my only hope.”
That was a lot of information to drop on someone he’d just met,
I had a bad habit of obsessing over curiosities. Of finding something new and interesting and digging myself into it until I knew every nook and cranny, every tick and tock. I liked knowing how things worked, magic especially, and it’d always been easy for me to lose myself in the mystery of the unknown. And Leo Greyson was a great unknown.
“Is that uh—a problem? There’s not like, magical racism or anything is there? You’ll help even though she’s a warlock or whatever?” Cute, I thought when the worry pinched at his face. “It’s no problem, and I’d be hypocritical to turn her away just because of that. I’m a warlock as well.”
“How am I supposed to be an apprentice if you won’t let me apprence?” I scrunched up my face in disgust and headed further into the shop, the Kid scurrying to follow. “That isn’t a word.”
That happened frequently. The miscommunication thing. One minute we’d be fine, then the next one of us is missing a whole conversation’s worth of context. Like we were on the same road and one of us decided to run ahead without waiting. Problems of a neurodivergent household.
I might have missed it if I wasn’t actually searching for something out of place, and the dark slab of burning black that shot across the living room floor definitely didn’t belong there. It was blanketed by a layer of chemical tasting deconstruction magic, no doubt left over by the cleaners. Like they just slapped a new layer of paint on top of the mold in the hopes no one would notice.
One of the flowers on the wallpaper tingled under my palm and the door to the office slammed shut with a definitive bang. I smirked at it, watching as a large rune burned itself into the center of the wood. “Found you.”
“Everyone uses different ones, usually mixing and combining various other runes for a specific purpose. This one creates a sort of space within another space. Layering dimensions on top of each other—reshaping rooms, creating secret ones, even making a house bigger on the inside than it was on the outside.” Leo nodded along. “Like a TARDIS?” “If you like.”
“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet,” I recited. Leo grinned, snapping at me with his fingers and pointing. “Arthur C. Clark! I’m a big science fiction fan.” I figured, considering he knew what a TARDIS was.
“Do you know how cars run on fossilized dinosaurs, or how sound is stored in the groves of vinyl records?” A valley formed between Leo’s eyebrows and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “No, but there are people who do. People who study that kind of stuff.” Nodding absentmindedly in agreement, I made my way to the corner, plucking at the fabric until it unfolded. “And there are those who study the reasons we can have two different rooms in the same place. I’m just not one of them.”
Remington Slythe was a tiny thing who looked absolutely nothing like her uncle. Her skin a soft umber, her mane of curls tumbling well past her shoulders. Her big, childish eyes shone a wild, glistening gold, like little coins shoved into her eye sockets.
“Oi, beastie.” Leo elbowed her in the shoulder, raising his eyebrows expectantly when she looked up at him. “Are you just going to burst in to make demands and not introduce yourself? Who taught you manners, the barn people?”
I stared down at the hand. “You can call me Mael, but I don’t shake hands.” They both stared at me, though I hadn’t shaken Leo’s hand when we first met either, so I don’t know why he looked so surprised. Unlike her uncle, however, Remy wasn’t afraid to ask. “Why?” “I don’t like strangers touching me,”
Finally, Remy giggled and bounced on her bare feet. “I like you, Mr. Nguyen, you’re funny.” I most certainly was not, but I could hardly argue with an eight-year-old.
“I don’t know about you,” the man said with a nudge to Remy’s shoulder, “but there’s a lot of bad energy in here. Aren’t witchy shops supposed to be like, all ‘good vibes and kumbaya, my dude?’ This is definitely the opposite of that.” Witchy shops. As if the Belamour was nothing more than the tourist trap metaphysical stores that littered New Orleans. I was almost insulted.
“Your kid is pretty good with her,” Leo said quietly, and I followed his line of sight back to where Remy and the Kid huddled close together by the door. “They aren’t my kid, they’re a raccoon I found in the trash that refused to leave.”
“Have you ever known someone—known their name—and randomly forgotten it for seemingly no reason? Maybe you’ve known them for years and you say the wrong name by accident. You call them a sibling’s name, or a name close to theirs but not quite right.” The dots began to connect in the lines of Leo’s face as recognition settled in. He was smart, picked things up fast even if he was brand new to our side of the world. “It’s like that. When the Kid—or any fae really—takes a human name, it can still be used. The name still belongs to that person, it’s still there, but it’s just… fuzzy around the
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“So real names—what did you call them?” “Heartnames.” “Right, so heartnames are like… soul signatures?” He waved his hand in the air like he was signing something. “I could give it out, sign my name or whatever, but only fae would commit identity fraud whereas seelie, or unseelie, or whatever, prefer the contract I’ve signed over the signature itself?”
See, the thing about mornings is that you have to wake up. Which I simply never wanted to do. Getting to sleep was hard enough; I shouldn’t have to then immediately throw all that hard work out the window the moment the sun had the audacity to start shining.
Another knock sounded just before I tugged the door open, glaring at what I was expecting to be the Kid. “Oh.” It was, in fact, not the Kid.
Leo’s cheeks burned a bright pink, his eyes wide as they trailed down my bare chest, latching onto the red stone hanging from my neck, then the top scars curved over my ribs, before following the various designs inked across my skin. “Sorry. Wow—he-llo—I, phew.” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “You, uh, don’t have a shirt on.”
Seeing Leo here, looking entirely unbothered by the mess around him and wearing that same leather jacket and feathered earring as before, was like tossing me in a warm bath with clothes on. The weight and heat were nice, but the unusualness of the situation was strange and little uncomfortable.
“Barry let me up. Said you’d need someone to go with you to the fancy markets. I guess I volunteered?” Barry… Barry? “Your kid,” Leo reminded me with a lopsided grin. “Apparently ‘Barry’ is sticking around for a little while.
You can clear off the table.” I motioned to the low coffee table still hidden under the Kid’s mountain of books. “Just don’t touch the crow bones on the corner or you’ll mess with my spell.” I paused, frowning. “Or lose all your hair. I uh—I don’t remember what spell is set up. Just don’t touch them at all. You’ll probably be fine.”
“Aww, boss, you do care about me!” I raised an eyebrow at them. “Of course? Who else is going to clean this place? Bela doesn’t have hands, and I’m certainly not going to do it.” Putting a dramatic hand to their chest, the Kid squawked. “What? So you’re only using me for your chores? That’s child labor, I’ll have you know! And to abuse the love of your literal child. I’m hurt, truly. I hope you know that.” “You’re not even figuratively my child,” I replied.
Besides, I’m dying to see more magic stuff. The fact that I’ve adopted a warlock who can’t even show me any magic yet is basically a hate crime against my expectations.”
“And what did you get arrested for? Drunk and disorderly?” Judging by the way his cheeks darkened again, that’s exactly what he got arrested for. “First of all,” he said, holding up a finger, “it was disturbing the peace, which sounds much more badass.” It didn’t, actually. “Second of all, I’m in a band and we started a mosh pit that spanned an entire city block. So I think I earned that mugshot, thank you very much.” “And the second one?” Leo shrugged more nonchalantly at that question. “Eh, it was at a protest. Cops aren’t exactly chill when they catch you beating up a homophobic dickbag
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“Then I’ll go alone.” I wouldn’t be happy about it, and I would run the risk of getting overstimulated, but I could do it if needed. Besides… “It’s too dangerous for him to go.” “Hey! Hardened criminal, remember?” Leo pouted, completely contradicting his argument. “I could handle it!”
“I’m autistic, so I struggle with sensory issues,” I told him. “I also have what’s called ‘Acute Arcane Synesthesia’. It basically means I can sense magic, so going places with that much magic crammed in one place can get extremely overwhelming.”
Besides, you heard the man! He’s gotta learn the lay of the land eventually, especially with a tiny warlock in tow. Might as well start now.” Yeah, but I didn’t see why I had to be the one to introduce him to it.
Curious, Leo held the stone up to his eye, peering through it like a monocle, much to my amusement. “So what, I just look through the fairy stone and I can see the magic world? Like in the movie?” The Kid and I shared a look, the both of us pursing our lips in tandem. It was the Kid who was brave enough to ask, “What movie?”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with my hypothetical child,” I said, my nose scrunching up with discomfort.
I don’t think I need relationship advice from someone who went through partners like pairs of shoes in high school.” They puffed out their chest and stood at full height—which was barely an inch taller than me. “First of all, we don’t slut-shame in this household.
I’m not going to be around here forever, you know.” “Ridiculous,” I grumbled, something uncomfortable and ugly settling in my stomach. I turned away from them to stalk into the kitchen and grabbed a small jar of grayish fur from one of the cabinets. “You’re not allowed to move out. Someone has to watch the shop while I’m working.” When I turned back, a small and fond smile twitched at the Kid’s lips. I didn’t like the weird bubbling it created under my skin.
“I’ll be fine, boss. I’m 18, you don’t have to worry if I’m out past dark anymore.” “I do when you’re threatening to leave the shop to be run by an old hermit with no friends,” I argued back.
“You have a teleportation door.” “It’s not a teleportation door.” “We just stepped through a door,” Leo said, hands folded in prayer and pressed to his lips, as he stared around in awe at our surroundings, “and into a massive magical warehouse. What else would you call that?” “But we didn’t teleport,” I tried to explain.
At this point he was ranting, like the way I did when I got locked in my head about something new I needed to work out, only significantly more energetic. All flailing arms and little bounces on his toes.
“Do not, under any circumstances, leave my side. Don’t wander or interact with anyone I don’t interact with. Don’t touch something if you don’t know what it is,” I listed, ticking each rule off as I went. I paused, considering. “Actually, best not to touch anything. And absolutely do not buy anything without asking me first. Things here are expensive, and not every vendor takes money as payment. You don’t want to accidentally sign away the life of your first born or something.” Leo’s eyes widened. “Is that actually possible?” “Very, so don’t make any deals without me, and be very careful with
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“Are these magical swords?” Everything here is magical, so yes. “But what do they do?” Sucks the life out of whatever enemy you gift them to. “Okay, these just look like marbles.” If by marbles you mean magical flash grenades, sure. “Are these really magical wands? Like Bippity Boppity Boo style?” I don’t know what that means, but yes, they’re really magical wands. “Please tell me that mummified dog head isn’t looking at me.” Yeah, best to stay away from that one. I don’t actually know what it does.
