TITLE: Icarus Manor, chapter 23 AUTHOR: lillywhite1, but you can call me Casey. SUMMARY: In a mysterious mansion in a secluded part of North America, a man discovers that he is far from alone in the world. Here at Icarus Manor several species of non-human description live together to survive in a world that does not know they exist. LAST CHAPTER: Dominic is faced with the grim reality his family is facing and receives a violent late night visit from Richard. THIS CHAPTER: William gains enough of a hold on reality to sense Dominic is in trouble. It’s eleven o’clock and Elijah finds that Orlando is still in his room… PAIRING: DM/BB, hints of EW/SA and now OB/VM RATING: R FEEDBACK: is my neutella on a spoon that makes me go all gooey and melty and mmmmm... A/N: Text in asterisks (*) represents italics indicating remembering, creepy voice, thoughts, or general emphasis. This is a book and a work in progress. Be gentle. Comments to cswann1@gmail.com. Chapter 23 William floated in warm, sleepy blackness for what seemed like an eternity. He felt wrapped in comfort and blissful unconscious. His mind no longer worried about the outside world. Time faded in and out as the waves upon a sandy shore, briefly gaining his attention before he was once again lulled into nothingness. He knew there was much to be worried about in these small moments of creeping clarity, but more important, he knew he did not want to emerge into this consciousness where these worries would plague him. It confused him that there should be something outside waiting for him. Why would one ever want to leave this place? Warm, utopian blackness would be replaced with scarring, scorching white hot burn. So he let himself drift, pulled by the current of some greater, benevolent being: swaddled, cradled and cared for. It told him not to think about such things, just to remain quiet and content. Then there was a transmission; like static at first from miles away. William tried to ignore it as best he could, but slowly, it gained his interest. There was a voice outside the blackness that seemed familiar to him. *“Oh, William.”* William? That was him. This person knew him, and he knew them, he was sure of it now. Shockingly quickly, realization set in. It was Dominic, his Dominic calling! The illusion of the comforting blackness was broken. The parasitic link severed. He had to concentrate; find Dominic. He waited for the rest of the message. *“What have I gotten myself into?”* That was the cue. William tugged on the fragile thread that connected him to Dominic’s mind with all the force he thought it could stand. Images came pouring out at him: An older woman, his mother, beaten. And she was unable to fight back! A threat and an ultimatum. A great deal of danger. Some home, a new leader, one who was worthy. There was much suffering. A little girl crushed. A fight. Dominic is trapped. *“I wish only to be with you. I miss you.”* He tugged harder, the thread threatening to break. A few more details came: Dominic’s brother is ripping him to shreds. He is dying. Praying. The thread snapped. That was it. It was over. He cursed silently. Dominic was in trouble, and there was nothing William could do. He was stuck here, trapped. He screamed, he fought, he pushed and the outside world began to approach him. William steeled himself. It was going to hurt like none other, but he had to reach out to the nearest creature he could and make himself heard, for Dominic. ~ Three days before the full moon, Elijah’s feet were mechanically taking him down a hallway towards the kitchen. Orlando would most likely be there and he had a question or two regarding the skylights Orlando had ordered for the greenhouse last year. In reality, he wanted to know how the latest treatment had been working out for Mr. Boyd, but he had to make some excuse in order to relieve the guilt of ignoring important household duties. Elijah emerged onto the kitchen floor, “Orli, do you remember the skylights that—” but Orlando wasn’t there. The momentary confusion abated when Elijah realized there were other places in the manor house that Orlando could be. He checked the first floor lounge that was being redecorated. The floor was scattered with swatches of paints and fabrics, but no Orlando. Then he stopped by Mr. Boyd’s office where the ceiling was being repaired; plenty of attractive, sweaty men to ogle and Orlando wasn’t there. Elijah checked every room in the house in which Orlando had started some project to no avail, and then Elijah proceeded to Orlando’s room. As Elijah approached Orlando’s room he heard several odd sounds accompanied by a steady stream of swearing. “Orli?” Elijah knocked softly, “Are you in there?” “God DAMN it!” There was the sound of many things being pushed aside as Orlando made his way to the door, “What do you want?” Orlando stood in the doorway, hair awry, nostrils flaring, and wearing only his neon green boxer-briefs. “Orlando, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Why on Earth are you still in your room?” “FUCK! It’s eleven already? I had meetings! Damn it! Damn it!” “What’s the deal, Orli? Why aren’t you dressed?” Elijah looked about his surroundings. Orlando’s room, usually an organized mess, seemed to have gotten temporarily transported into a wind tunnel. Every item of clothing Orlando owned was out of the closet and either hanging from something, strewn across something, or bundled up on the eggplant short-shag rug. Orlando’s eyebrows were knitted in utter frustration and the hair at his temples changed from brown to auburn in color. “Why aren’t I dressed?! Look at his place. I’ve tried on everything I own and nothing FITS anymore!” Elijah surveyed the room. There were enough clothes on the floor alone to outfit a large American city or a small European country. He stared incredulously at Orlando. “What do you mean nothing fits?” Orlando threw his arms up in the air, “I have no idea how, but,” Orlando sat down on the edge of his bed, “I’ve... gained weight.” He shut his eyes quickly to keep from crying. Elijah harrumphed, “Shut the fuck up, Orlando, and get on some clothes.” He started impatiently tossing items off the floor and into Orlando’s face. Orlando was suddenly furious again, he appeared at Elijah’s side in under a second. “Shut the fuck up?” Orlando roughly grabbed Elijah’s hand, “I’ll fucking show you.” Orlando forced Elijah’s hand onto his abdomen. “What are you doing?” “You feel that?” Elijah could feel it. There was a strange rise and fall to Orlando’s lower stomach, just as round and smooth as the outside of a melon. “Strange.” Orlando walked towards the closet, “Yeah, it is, and what’s worse is I can’t stand anything touching it! I can’t wear any pants. They are all too tight!” Orland angrily launched a pair of slacks towards the opposite end of the room. “Fuck!” “You don’t own anything that isn’t skin tight?” Elijah picked up several things from the floor that could have been pants. “And deny the world a gorgeous view of my perfect ass? Never.” Elijah smiled, “What about your gym clothes?” Orlando sighed, “Well, I guess since the meetings are already over, there’s no point in worrying about dress code.” “Right.” Elijah wiggled a pair of track pants free of a lamp and handed them back to their owner. “And it’s just for the day. Later, we’ll go out and get you a few pairs of pants.” Orlando nearly sobbed, “FAT pants? Oh dear God, it’s already starting. First the fat pants, then the big tent-like shirts, and the next thing I know I’m writing letters to Armani demanding they make muumuus!” Elijah chuckled, “You’re going to need an oxygen supply when you reach the top of that mountain. Oh wait, it’s a mole hill.” Orlando smiled for the first time since Elijah had entered the room. “Would you be a doll and help me gather up these clothes? They’ll wrinkle.” Elijah headed toward the bathroom to gather several discarded blouses, “Orlando, it smells like—” “Vomit? Yeah, I know. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” “You okay?” Orlando realized that Elijah had stopped gathering clothes and the tone of concern in his voice was unmistakable. “Yeah, sure, hon. I’m fine.” “You’re not fine. You are simply ignoring the symptoms.” Elijah approached Orlando and examined the squirming fire-sprite as best he could. “How long have you been getting sick for?” “A couple months?” “What?!” Elijah shouted incredulously and accidentally into Orlando’s ear. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Don’t yell at me!” “And what about the mood swings?” Orlando was defensive, “What mood swings?” “Come on, Orli. You went from flames to tears to flames in minutes. How long?” “A month, maybe?” Elijah sighed, desponded. “And how long have you had the belly bump?” “I really only started to notice it yesterday when I wanted more than anything to unbutton my pants in my office.” “That settles it, then. You’ve got three odd symptoms and you’re going to see Viggo.” Elijah picked up a t-shirt and tossed it at Orlando. “I’m not going to see Viggo,” the shirt was hurled back at Elijah, “because I’m fine.” Elijah stared in disbelief, “Orli, are you seriously going to be this stubborn? You’re sick. There may be something really wrong with you, and even if there isn’t, wouldn’t you like to stop vomiting all the time?” “It’s not *all* the time,” Orlando remarked, “but it isn’t a walk in the park.” He smiled and hugged Elijah, “Thank you, darling. Sometimes you just need a little help.” “Great, now put on your shirt, and let’s go get you better.” ~ Sean brooded in his large wingback chair in Mr. Boyd’s room, continuing his vigilance over his unconscious employer. Clutching the wooden arms of the chair, he closed his eyes in frustration. Everything had been for Elijah, and now that dream, his only dream, had been obliterated. Elijah didn’t believe in him, and if he didn’t believe, how would Sean ever gain his trust again, or his love? It was impossible. After all of the pain he had endured over this curse of an amulet, all those sleepless nights staring at the ceiling the only thing driving him on was the idea of holding Elijah, kissing him, knowing that his love was returned. Ever since that day he had met Elijah, this was what he had wanted for them, and finally having found the courage and the means, he had ruined it. He lost his chance. Sean snatched the amulet around his neck in a fit of anger, planning to rip it off and smash it, but as always, he felt suddenly calmed and unable to take it off. He stared at the amulet which he often did, most of the time without thinking. It was mostly white now. The spark had grown and grown, slowly overtaking the visage of the gem till that was nearly all that was left. The deep purple had been almost completely replaced with a bright white glow. The outer rim still retained a vague purple outline, but besides that it was mostly white. The thing gave him the creeps now. The sense of foreboding, of impending visitation on him by some invincible undesirable filled his mind every waking moment. And since Sean no longer slept, that was a long time to be crushed by an alien sense of doom. The Nothing Colors surfaced again over Mr. Boyd’s body. They bent and twisted in the open air before coming together, like the many strands of a rope winding into one. Sean didn’t push them down this time. Something was different about them. Rather than a general emission, they came directly from the center Mr. Boyd’s chest. They danced and wove together, colors changed within waves and ripples of indescribable beauty. They formed a perfectly cylindrical snake that spun its way through the air as if blindly searching. After a few seconds, the head of the tentacle focused on and rotated directly towards Sean. The mouth of the snake captured no color at all, but an absence of color. Blackness filled the cylinder moving towards him and as it pulled itself across the room, a gentle hum accompanied the spinning tube. The sound was not menacing, but wholly new to him. The hum was a sound that neither human nor werewolf ears could detect. He seemed to perceive the sound as only a presence in his mind, entering and exiting by means unknown. The tube-like entity crept closer. It was obvious to Sean now that this thing was not inanimate or obeying a command. There was a consciousness emanating from it; neither malevolent nor kind, but with purpose. The thing surveyed him closely for a few long seconds before focusing on him. Sean felt a gentle tug at his very soul, and then the tug became less patient. At first, this was rather a terrifying prospect, but then Sean was no longer a narrow-minded werewolf. He had touched a higher level of himself and gained some wisdom with his power. He let his mind follow the pull of the spiraling tube, and his body reciprocated. Sean focused his powerful mind inwards, honing it towards the center of his chest, just like that of Mr. Boyd and then out. He formed a snake of his own by taking this cue from Mr. Boyd, feeling compelled by his actions. His own tentacle reached out and slowly spun towards the other. As the two cylinders neared, the air sparked between them, as if bringing together two magnets with similar polarity. There was a small resistance that was overcome as the tentacles hovered, then finally meshed. It was as if Sean was ripped from his body and sent hurtling down a tunnel of Nothing Color to a room full of deafening silence and blinding darkness. It was impossible to explain without endless contradiction. He was surrounded by power and immense tension. He felt Mr. Boyd’s mind in that place of infinite contradiction as he hovered in nowhere. SEAN, HELP ME. The words were strong for Mr. Boyd’s condition, but not nearly as strong as he had been before he was burned. *What can I do?* The air rushed about him, suspending him, not in body, but in mind. DOMINIC IS IN TROUBLE, AND I CANNOT HELP HIM. YOU MUST SAVE HIM. The desperate need in his voice was unmistakable. *But how?* Before the sentence was even fully transmitted out into nowhere, a flood of images invaded his mind with a force that would have most likely killed him before he had become so strong. Images of a trailer park, misery and plot. Names and faces and histories overpowered him, but he retained his composure. YOU NOW KNOW ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW. Sean felt a shudder in the empty space around him. Mr. Boyd was in a great deal of pain, and he was straining to keep it away from Sean. Mr. Boyd was protecting him. Such a mind-lock was probably very dangerous for Sean because of Mr. Boyd’s condition. YOU MUST GO. SAVE HIM. PLEASE. *I will.* And with that, Sean was shoved back through the tunnel and into his own body, gasping. He watched as the Nothing Color snake retracted slowly back inside Mr. Boyd’s body. The humming was gone. He was fine. He was more than fine. He was filled with purpose and hope. This was big. This could be the very thing to redeem himself with Elijah. The gargoyle didn’t matter to him at all right now. He grasped the stone about his neck; the one that wouldn’t let him rest, that drained him of all his energy and will, the one that brought ever-consuming dread, and finally, *finally* ripped the offensive thing off. He threw it to the ground and let it lie there on the intricate rug before heading home for a nap. He had three days till the full moon, and he was dying to get some sleep. ~ Thanks for reading! Please email comments to cswann1@gmail.com.