TITLE: Icarus Manor, chapter 6
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 and Sean make a midnight deal. THIS CHAPTER: Dominic 
recovers. Viggo introduced. What? You didn’t think I’d actually DO it? Did you?

PAIRING: Eventual DM/BB
RATING: R; still setting up the base for the affair.
FEEDBACK: is my neutella on a spoon that makes me go all gooey and melty and 
mmmmm...
A/N: Text in asterisks (*) represents italics. This is a book and a work in progress. Be 
gentle. Comments to cswann1@gmail.com.

Chapter 6

“How is he?”

“It’s worse than the first time.”

“How much worse?”

“It’s bad.”

“Don’t give me *degrees*, you bastard. Give me an answer!”

“Orlando, get him out.”

“Where do you want me to take him? We both want to be here.”

“Very well, just get him out of the room.”

“What can you do for him, Viggo?”

“Not much, Mr. Boyd. It’s really up to him and where he wants to go.”

~
*Breathe.* Came the command in his head. 

 *Breathe deeper.* But it hurt so much to obey.
 
*Breathe in, Dominic.* He didn’t want to. 

*You have to.* So he did.

*That’s it.* He breathed what felt like minute particles of glass shearing his insides. He 
felt the need to cough again.

*Breathe through the pain.* It didn’t seem logical before, but now he did. And it helped. 
The pain subsided little by little. His head ached.

*Don’t give up.* He tried a little harder. His ribs felt like they had been crushed over and 
over again. Oh, wait...the memories began to return. He hovered above a horrific scene 
where two huge creatures were beating the pulse out of a huddled mass of a man. Panic 
began to take hold.

*Stay calm. They’re gone now.* Dominic tried to push the panic down with the bile in 
his throat.

*That’s it. Just listen to my voice. Everything is fine. No one is going to hurt you.*

Dominic listened. The panic drained away melting like snow and dripped off of his 
fingertips. He could almost feel the pain sliding off with it. Evaporating off of him like a 
purple vapor. Then there was a sudden wave of exhaustion. He felt it hard not to give in.

*Sleep, Dominic. Rest and recuperate. The time to wake will come later.*

And then a warm darkness crept up the back of his eye sockets and Dominic was asleep.

~

Mr. Boyd paced in his office. His concern over Dominic’s health had kept him up all 
night. He didn’t dare sleep to find that Dominic’s condition had worsened and no one had 
thought it wise to wake the master of the house. So he paced. When he was exhausted 
with pacing the floor, he walked back to the medical quarters to talk to Viggo for a few 
frustrating moments. 

Viggo was always kind. He was the perfect doctor. Gentle and wise. Informative, but 
never complicating. He never talked down to his patients. His smile honest and eyes 
clear, he was a handsome man, and William had enjoyed his company on every other 
occasion, but could not stand there and have Viggo tell him over and over again that they 
had to just let Dominic’s body repair itself; that he would recover. It was Dominic’s mind 
that Viggo was worried about. The head trauma could cause any number of mental 
problems from having trouble concentrating, to not recognizing anyone in the manor. 
Werewolves’ bodies healed on average, three fold faster than a human’s, but their brains 
were only 50% less fragile. 

William couldn’t let the thought of Dominic’s permanent injury settle in his mind. It was 
completely unacceptable and it tainted his thoughts with doubt and worry.  He was so 
concerned about Dominic that he had done something that he hadn’t done in a very long 
time. He had placed his thoughts inside Dominic’s fragile head and probed for an answer. 
He had to see for himself what was going on. Upon entering the room, he sat beside 
Dominic’s bed and focused on the wounded man. His eyes closed, and William’s mind 
was filled with images. 

William saw the torn edges of bruised tissue slowly sewing itself back together. 
Dominic’s neurons were trying to repair themselves. Many were failing, but many 
weren’t. Welder cells were repairing connections and replacing broken ones. Nurse cells 
were tending to the casualties.  The dead were carried off ceremoniously into the 
bloodstream where they were spirited away. These were only a few of the operations that 
William could see. Dominic was lucky. Had he been a human, he could have died. 
Humans couldn’t repair neural tissue like werewolves could. William was satisfied. 
Dominic was mostly intact. He would be fine. 

Then William felt a stirring. He was waking Dominic. He did his best to soothe the 
traumatized man back into sleep with words and comforts. The pain that Dominic 
radiated only upon showing the barest of consciousness was staggering. William knew 
pain. This would be bad for Dominic. The best thing for him to do was to sleep till his 
body recuperated enough so that waking would not be so agonizing. 

As William left Dominic’s bedside, he felt Viggo’s impatience. Yes, William had in 
effect woken the patient, but now he knew that Dominic’s chances were good. Viggo had 
obviously been too cautious to delve into Dominic’s brain the way that William had for 
fear of sending Dominic into shock. William had in fact sent Dominic into shock, but 
managed to keep him under control. He knew what he was doing.  He knew that his 
telepathic powers were superb. Viggo’s powers were good, but William’s were much 
better. After all, Viggo was mostly human.  It was only logical that William’s powers 
were far stronger. 

Viggo was never one to brag about his powers. As a telepath and a telekinetic, he had 
much to swagger his step about, but modesty came with his soft-spoken nature. When he 
developed his powers he vowed to learn to use them only for bettering and saving lives. 
He became a rather unorthodox kind of surgeon who used the power of his mind to 
complete entire operations without ever opening the patient up. With his telepathy, he 
navigated his patient’s mind to find the problem and used telekinesis to fuse and break 
tissues. 

Viggo was brilliant. He had the highest success rate of any physician. And with his 
knowledge of the plants and animals of the paranthropic world, his patients were in very 
good hands. The only problem with his work in the real world was that it was never 
credible. If you have been trained by shamans and other psychic doctors, chances are you 
didn’t receive that medical degree that was rather important to patients and their families, 
and, needless to say, lawyers.

That was how William Boyd had come upon Viggo Mortenson. The tall handsome man 
was in a holding cell and charged with a few heavy law suits. After a week or so, Viggo 
agreed to work for Mr. Boyd of Icarus Manor. William settled a few of the lawsuits and 
strongly persuaded the others to drop their cases. William had met greedy people in his 
extensive lifetime, but none were as inhumane as the people who were desperate to lock a 
wonderful doctor up for the rest of his life for a million dollars and a free, flawless 
surgical procedure that the same doctor had performed a month ago. Sometimes William 
felt disgusted with the humans.

And that was how Viggo became another happy and well-protected employee of 
William’s. Every basic tool of the human doctor forbidden to him was now in unending 
supply. Literally every kind of herb or holistic medicine readily available to him. No 
more dodging issues and operating in shielded rooms. But most importantly, Viggo was a 
well respected and valued member of the Icarus community and could practice in peace, 
with complete honesty, and without fear of persecution. That meant a great deal to Viggo, 
and to William. 

~

Elijah cradled his head in his hands as he sat perched on the edge of his seat just outside 
Dominic’s room. He was waiting for something; some sign from Viggo that Dominic was 
going to be okay. He would wait all night and day to have the chained panicky feeling in 
his stomach to go away. The metaphor of exploding never seemed so accurate to describe 
his state of mind. He could almost hear the ticking of the time bomb. Elijah had never 
really been very good with suspense.

To his right, Orlando willed a tiny flame to pop between this thumb and forefinger to 
only be pinched out, then between his thumb and middle finger, then this thumb and ring 
finger. Each flame was extinguished with a minute hiss. The cycle began again when 
Orlando reached his pinky finger, then moved up the procession towards the forefinger 
again. It was worse than cracking knuckles or drumming fingers. Little sounds drove 
Elijah to the brink of insanity, and now was the worst time for Orlando to occupy himself 
by fraying the tether that kept Elijah from losing his mind.

Elijah was just about to snap something caustic and casually mean-spirited in Orlando’s 
direction when Mr. Boyd emerged from Dominic’s room. Elijah’s acute merman ears 
perked up at the sound of the door and his hopes for a reprieve jettisoned into the 
atmosphere. Mr. Boyd took a place on the bench to the left of Elijah.

It was odd having Mr. Boyd, their veritable lifetime boss and caretaker, sitting so close to 
them. There was no desk between them, none so much as an armrest between chairs. 
They were all on an equal level. Mr. Boyd never made Elijah feel as if he were inferior to 
him, but an air of power surrounded him that made a casual friendship – like the goofy 
one he had with Orlando – utterly inconceivable. Now, worn by nearly ten hours of sleep 
deprivation and constant worry, that air had dissipated. In fact, now that Elijah took a 
closer look, Mr. Boyd looked as though he had been pacing the hallways for a week. It 
seemed like a novel idea to Elijah that Mr. Boyd cared so deeply for someone who had 
worked at Icarus Manor for not even a month.

Suddenly, Elijah felt a surge of jealousy, but quickly swept it aside. Dominic was in 
serious trouble. He’d had a considerable brush with death. Elijah hadn’t had such a 
serious injury since he’d been Mr. Boyd’s employee. Orlando wallowed in the hospital 
wing for two whole days over the affair with the rake hitting him in the nuts, but he 
hadn’t had a serious injury since he’d been there either. Elijah squelched his jealousy. If 
he had been hurt as badly as Dominic was, Mr. Boyd would probably be right here by his 
side as well. 

Then Elijah was reminded of the coiled and thrashing worry monster in his abdomen. 
Perhaps Mr. Boyd had some sort of news about Dominic’s condition.

“How is he?” Elijah asked quietly. Orlando shifted in his seat.

“He is really banged up, but I took a closer look and I think he’s going to be just fine 
after some serious rest.” Mr. Boyd’s lilting Scottish accent was a soft and pleasant shock 
to Elijah’s sensitive ears. There was a hypnotizing quality to that voice that made Elijah’s 
heart flutter, but then that could also be his merman hearing playing tricks on him.

Elijah stared at his hands. “I wish I could do more for him.”

“He’ll be back on his feet in no time.” Mr. Boyd smiled at him. “There’s nothing to 
worry about now.” The exhaustion was barely veiled. Elijah was sincerely worried about 
his employer.

Orlando jumped into the conversation. “You look like you’ve been pacing the hallways 
far too long. You need some rest, Sir.”

“I agree, Sir. Now that the storm has passed, and all.”

Mr. Boyd smiled with infinite patience like a father to his sons. “Perhaps you’re right.” 
He rose gloriously in his fatigue. “You will wake me if he regains consciousness, yes?”

“Yes. We’ll come get you.” Elijah smiled.

“Thank you.” And with that, Mr. Boyd was gone.

~

Dominic was at the beach. He was wading in the cold ocean with the sand being swept 
out from under his feet. He loved that pulling, coaxing feeling of the hundreds of tiny 
grains being sucked past the soles of his sensitized feet. Dominic always liked his feet; 
the second toe bigger than the first gave him wonderful balance. His mom teased him 
about his ugly long toes and his pinky that was all scrunched up, but he imagined she was 
just a little jealous of his poise. Small physical gifts could make an average werewolf the 
bloody best. 

Right now he loved his long toes simply for the increased surface area of them. The wet 
sand tickled from underneath him once again. When he looked to his right, he saw his 
dad. He was partially transformed, like he would be sometimes when at home. His ears 
were long and pointed with brown fur down his neck. His knee joints pushed back, legs 
extended beyond the human phase. But he was peaceful, like he had always been. He was 
watching his own feet in their grainy awesomeness. Then Dominic looked up. His dad 
caught his eye and smiled. If this was heaven, this would be exactly what he would be 
doing. 

Then Dominic looked to his right. It was his brother, Richard. The brother he’d loved and 
grown up with, who he saw become a monster was watching his toes. He was mostly 
human. The only wolf he saw was in his extended jaw and fangs that had grown sharp 
and shining in saliva. Richard looked up at Dominic and smiled in a garish way.

Dominic was about to ask Richard about the smile and what it meant when the waves 
became sharper. Harsher. With every tuck and roll of the tide Dominic felt pain. His body 
became some sort of conductor for waves of searing electricity. Painful swipes replaced 
with a blissful pull-back of the water to be painful again.

Dominic could feel Richard smiling gleefully at his pain. Then he spoke to Dominic in a 
gruff half-human voice.

“Look out little brother. I’m right behind you.”

Dominic awoke with a gasp. The dream was over. His brother was gone. So was his 
father. The painful waves, however, remained part of this world. He shifted in an effort to 
find some sort of comfort. None came. He felt wild with terror at being trapped so fully 
by nothing at all. The pounding aches came from everywhere.

Until bliss. Something flooded him and seemed to push the pain out of him. His body was 
filled with a glorious peace. It could have been morphine. It could have been heroin. It 
could have been fucking Drano for all he cared. Whatever it was, he didn’t want it to end. 

The bliss faded to a general comfort. It gave him the capacity to open his eyes and take in 
some things.

“Bastards.” Dominic cheerfully swore with a smile. He couldn’t before, but he smelled 
them now. Flowers of every sort littered the room in vases, bottles, and tupper-ware 
containers. The vases didn’t matter. The flowers were quite a spectacle. They radiated 
colors that Dominic had never seen in the Manchester flora. It was like going from black 
and white to technicolor. He shook his head. “Poncy bastards.”

A small flash of pain caught his attention again at his left wrist. When he looked he saw 
the most peculiar plant in the room. It was straight violet in color with a pod in the center 
of its tentacle-like vines. The vines had tiny buds on them. Dominic was reminded of 
several cheaply-made late night sci-fi movies. But what was most interesting about this 
plant was that it was moving. 

*Who the hell would send that creepy thing to make someone feel better? 
Better…butter… bitter batter… wasn’t there a nursery rhyme that talked about that?*

The plant was distracting in how it moved. The vines acted like arms. They reached out 
to Dominic and caressed the top of his left arm almost lovingly. When the pain faded, a 
purplish liquid appeared on Dominic’s arm. The nearest vine grazed across Dominic’s 
arms and collected the liquid very efficiently before reaching toward the ceiling. He 
watched the plant do this a few times. He felt hypnotized by it. Gleeful, even. The vine 
grazed his skin, and then arched toward the ceiling, the pod gave a little shake, then all 
over again. Dominic giggled. He felt oddly giddy.

The door cracked open.

In came a rather tall man with a kind face. Dominic read a few things from the man’s 
demeanor immediately. He was a physician. Dominic’s physician if he wasn’t assuming 
too much by his being in a bed, not properly dressed. The loose gown probably didn’t 
flatter his awkward features. 

The man had the best intentions in his heart that Dominic had ever felt from a person. He 
was very concerned about Dominic. And that almost made Dominic tear up a bit. That 
was an oddly powerful reaction to someone he had not quite met yet. Dominic also had a 
feeling that they had met before briefly.

The man’s long brownish-red hair was tied back in a ponytail. A smile graced his 
masculine features.

“I worked on you when you first got here, Mr. Monaghan.” Dominic assumed he was 
telepathic as well. “However, the first time you required nothing much more than some 
moderate patchwork. This time, it was a bit more serious. That’s why we have the 
Serpent’s Tongue for you.”

“Serpent...?” *Serpent. Slurp-ent. Slurp...I could really go for a drink right now…*

“Shall we just say that this plant that is lapping up your pain does not have a great 
reputation? I’m Doctor Viggo Mortensen. Call me Viggo.”

“Dominic.” He said as he eagerly extended his hand to the doctor only to experience a 
new wave of agony from his back, stomach, and head. He lay still as the plant coaxed 
him back into a temporary stupor, stroking him with its tendrils. It tickled just a little and 
Dominic smiled inanely.

“I would advise you to refrain from doing that again.” Viggo said.

Dominic shifted and scratched his left wrist. He didn’t want to disturb the plant, but it 
seemed he had gotten a mosquito bite lately. Dominic laughed out loud. He gets beaten to 
a huddled, bleeding mass and then some parasitic insect has the nerve to take more of his 
blood that he needs so desperately. Little prick couldn’t take some off the floor? *Heh, 
prick.*

“You may feel a bit loopy with the plant working on you. That is caused by the opiate-
like pain killer it pumps into your veins. It has as tendency to make one feel...odd.”

“That’s ridiculous. I feel fine.” *Fine. Mine. Time…what time is it?* “What time...wait. 
Did you say the plant...in my veins? But it’s not...” Dominic’s brain seemed to be 
temporarily out of order, but he had made the connection that to put something into his 
veins, the plant would have to be inside him somehow. 

Dominic glanced back to the place where he’d felt the bug bite and shrieked. He stared at 
the probe-like tentacle of the plant that was pushed deep inside of his left wrist. The 
surrounding skin of the puncture was red and bothered and oozing a little purple fluid. 

Dominic couldn’t handle this. He screamed over and over as he grasped the tentacle with 
his right hand. He yanked hard on the intruding plant. The frightened plant pushed the 
probe deeper, tearing the skin just a little. 

The struggle with the plant was one that Dominic refused to lose for some time before he 
acquiesced to Viggo’s soothing hands on his arm. He let go of the plant. It recoiled a 
little. Exhausted and agonized, Dominic lay back on the pillow and let out a tiny sob. 

Viggo was barely touching him, but it was comforting. 

“She’s not going to hurt you. Don’t worry about the hole in your arm. It’s part of the way 
the plant works. Please. You need to relax. No more harm will come to you. Just rest 
now.” Dominic closed his eyes and a cool compress touched his forehead. Before he 
drifted off into another drug-induced dream he heard Viggo’s voice inside his head.

*Sleep, Dominic. And struggle no more.*

~

William tossed on his bed of silk and luxury. He was dreaming lightly; something about 
sand and water rushing past his feet. William awoke.

*That’s absurd. I don’t dream. I don’t think I’ve dreamed since...* he couldn’t remember 
when.

“Dreaming? What were you dreaming about?” The gargoyle. It was ever present, and 
William wasn’t in the mood for small talk. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Know you are tired. Worried. You worry for the wolf-boy.” It slinked around William’s 
head and stared him directly in the eyes. Those beady red eyes held him. 

“So what if I am? What is it to you, you hideous little thing?” The insult seemed to roll 
off the gargoyle’s spiked back. That was unusual. 

“Nothing. Nothing to me. Live only to make you happy. But I know something. Heard 
something you may be interested in.” The gargoyle played with William’s mind and his 
patience. It circled twice and settled like a coiled snake with tattered wings wrapped 
around its skinny body. “But nothing to me, the hideous little thing.”

William picked his head up from the pillow.

“What did you hear?”

The gargoyle’s head rested on its circled limbs. 

“Oh, nothing. Just the clink-clink of a precious metal changing hands. The maids talking. 
Something dismal planned in the dungeon quarters of the west wing. Two monsters 
bribed to keep the murderer in check.”

“Murderer?” *That’s what Sean had called Dominic. A murderer. A danger.*

“The brown-haired wolf-boy.” The gargoyle gurgled.

“Who paid the monsters to beat Dominic?” 

“Oh, don’t know. Knows not the man.” The gargoyle seemed overly cheerful and a bit 
intense for such a game. “But said that he was like the wolf-boy.”

The covers were thrown off. William was out of the bedroom in one swift motion with 
the only possible name on his mind. Fury crept up the back of his neck as he sat down in 
the chair behind his desk and threw open a specific telepathic channel. He ripped open a 
hole in the world and made a searing connection with the perpetrator. He poured all his 
anger into it as every word grew teeth and claws and became a raging weapon of 
vengeance. 
~
Please email comments to cswann1@gmail.com.