The Aether Candle

Her soft thighs were pressed against his. He had one hand on the small of her back, the other a little lower. Her huge breasts were inches from his face. She wasn't comfortable with any of that, exactly, but neither was she scrambling to get away. Part of her hoped he'd disregard her protests and take her right there, on the coffee table.

But only part of her. And Dan was not okay with that. He wanted, needed, all of her.

"You are kinda stinky," he said, daring to give her ass a little slap.

She didn't move. Or say anything. Just bore into him with those gorgeous green eyes.

So he took the opportunity to kiss her. Passionately, but not as an act of seduction or foreplay. His hands got a little adventurous, because they had to, but after a few seconds, he let her go. He hadn't wanted to. It felt too damn good to have her on top of him. To grope her fat ass in the real world, where it just about had to be dimpled with cellulite. Where everything would be a little worse, and thus ten times better, as they'd not have to fight through a barrier of disbelief. He could wait, though. It wasn't like she took long showers.

"This is wrong," his mom said. For a moment, it looked like she'd initiate another kiss. But unless a quick peck on the forehead counted, she didn't. What she did do was climb out of his lap. "Over there is one thing. We can do whatever we want there. But not here."

Disappointment welled up within Dan, but he did his best to suppress it. Sulking wouldn't change her mind. "You're right," he said, planting a hand on her hip that he hoped was affectionate but not inappropriate. He must have been wrong, though, because after only a moment's hesitation, she removed it as one might a ball of lint. "I'm sorry. I just—"

"I know," she said, sighing. "Really, I do." She kissed the top of his head. He wondered if the smell of his hair was as intoxicating to his mom as hers was to him. "You can see that I'm not mad, can't you?" She paused, fumbling for words. "Sense it in other ways as well?"

Dan nodded.

"Then you know that part of me would like nothing more than to ride you until you pop like a bottle of champagne," she began, putting a hand on his shoulder and working the tension out with slow pulses of her fingertips. Because it was okay for her to touch him.

"Until I do?" Dan asked.

She blushed. "Or have you lay me across my bed and give me that massage you sort of promised," she continued. With each word, she hardened Dan's cock further. The damn thing was throbbing. "But you also know that's a terrible idea, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. It is," he said, as much to convince himself as anything.

She must have sensed that, because she glowered at him for a second or two before shaking her head. "We'll talk about this later."

Dan took her hand off his shoulder, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. "Okay."

The smile she gave him was something both sadder and more loving than any he'd ever seen. "I had a great workout, if you're wondering," she said. "Can barely move."

"So you really could use a massage?"

"Down boy," she said, laughing. "I'm just saying I had no idea yoga could be so intense."

Maybe it wasn't the yoga. Could she be sore for the same reason he'd spent the better part of the last hour bleeding? The one who got summoned was less present than the one doing the summoning, but it was different with two Talents. Two empaths.

A mother and son who were deeply in love.

Or so Dan told himself, the same as he'd chosen to believe that her soft palm had healed him instead of her strong emotions. Because his most powerful ability was self-delusion.

"Don't go anywhere," his mom said, arching her back in what might truly have been the sort of post-workout stretch her body cried out for and not an attempt to hypnotize her son.

Whether that had been the intention or not, it had that effect. He marveled at the size of her tits and wondered if they might be as round and firm here as in the Aether. How appealing he'd find her stretch marks, if only as testament to their lovemaking being more than acting out a fantasy. Assuming she ever let him see them, that was.

She caught him staring and smiled. Flattered as that obviously made her feel, Dan really had to wonder if that stretch had been an innocent mistake. "Brew a pot of coffee and I'll love you forever," his mom said, crossing her arms over her chest as if that might somehow make up for it. Or because her triceps and deltoids were sore. One of the two.

"You wouldn't anyway?"

"A little more than I already do, then," his mom said.

"And what exactly does that translate into?"

She gave him a look that was at once playful and reproachful. "Behave yourself, Daniel."

He shrugged. "I just want to know if we can order from DiMaggio's for dinner."

Without bothering to answer, his mom finished her less revealing stretch and headed down the hall towards her room. Dan's eyes followed after. He might not be allowed to touch, but apparently it was now safe to look. Which was a good thing, because there was no way he could have resisted the temptation, even if she'd worn baggy sweats instead of tight yoga pants. He was glad she'd opted for the latter, though. The Aether version of her might have a more perfect body in a very narrow sense, but there wasn't a thing he'd have changed about the real one. Aside from her not letting him explore it, of course.

"Quit staring," his mom called over her shoulder, "and make that coffee."

"You got it, boss."

She snapped her hips to one side then the other, making her gloriously fat ass dance for him, then slapped the door to her bedroom shut.

#

The carafe didn't fill up any faster just because he stood there watching the coffee drip down from the basket, but that was just what Dan did. Out of nervousness, he supposed.

Since his mom had left, a powerful realization had dawned on him. He'd actually tried to have sex with his mom. Not in the dreamlike world known of the Aether, where memories sometimes failed to take hold and accidental pregnancies were not an issue because no one traveled there with their actual bodies, but in the real world.

On the very sofa where his dad used to sit and watch baseball, or play chess with Dan's mom—a woman who still wasn't over his death. Whose interest in her son had as much to do with filling the hole left by her husband's passing as it did anything the latter had to offer on his own. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," Dan chanted, slapping himself in the head.

As a result, he almost didn't notice that someone was knocking at the door.

"Coming," he called out after the sound finally penetrated his thick skull.

He found a dark-skinned girl on the front step, wearing a plain brown dress and canvas shoes—neither of which had been washed in some time.

His first thought was that there was something off about her, like she might be homeless. His second was that he'd have been less quick to jump to such conclusions if she was white. Not that he was even sure what her race was. Native American, perhaps? Or Latina? Either way, her appearance would have been unremarkable to Dan if he hadn't grown up in a sleepy suburb where the presence of blondes and redheads passed for diversity.

Only that wasn't true. He might have been less quick to notice her complexion or the picked-these-up-at-Goodwill nature of her apparel, but the one piece of jewelry she wore? That would have grabbed his attention. It looked like a crude charm bracelet, made of rope and wood and bone instead of silver or gold, and that fit the rest of the picture, but the symbols painted on all the dangling bits looked eerily familiar.

Then Dan realized why. She was wearing at least a dozen talismans, which were similar to Caleb's doodads but were made by shamans. That meant she was a member of the Nation, which did not approve of Talents living amongst ordinary people. Or the way ordinary people lived, for that matter. The Free Folk thought everyone ought to move out to the woods and learn some branch of elemental magic. They looked at the world of strip malls and drip coffee-makers the way the US government did most of Syria and Iraq.

Whoever this girl was, she was deep in hostile territory.

"Can I help you?" Dan asked, hoping she hadn't noticed the way he'd focused on her bracelet. Or the look of recognition that had surely flashed across his face.

Yeah, right. And maybe she hadn't noticed that Dan's skin was lighter than hers. He'd remembered to burn Caleb's incense that morning, but his second attempt at fooling another Talent into thinking that he was normal wasn't going to be as successful as his first.

Good thing the Free Folk weren't big on burning people at the stake.

"Are you Daniel Westbrook?" she asked.

Shit. She knew his name.

Okay, the latter part was on the freaking mail box. No need to blow things out of proportion. "I am," he said, clearing his throat. "What's this about?"

The doorknob Caleb had given him was up in his room, seeing as he'd never thought to need it in the comfort of his own home. Awkward as it was to carry around when he didn't think he'd need, the damn thing wasn't very useful. Why couldn't Caleb have given him a magic ring or something instead? Would he have to pay royalties to the Tolkien estate?

"I just carried your friend home," she said. "Caleb Blackthorne?" she asked, though Dan didn't believe for a second that she thought she might have made a mistake. "He wants to see you but he's too weak to come down here and tell you himself."

"Got it," Dan said. "Thanks."

"I shouldn't have to say this," she added, "but you Coalition types don't keep the old ways, so here goes—because I did him a favor, he owes me one in return."

"I'm not part of any coalition."

The girl sneered again. Then, without another word, she turned and loped away. There was no better word for it. She moved like someone who wasn't used to walking on two legs.

For all the time Dan had spent wishing that Caleb would return, then wondering if he ever would, the guy's timing sure fucking sucked.

Whatever state Caleb was in, he could surely wait a few minutes. But how easy would it be to peel himself away once his mom got out of the shower? Grumbling to himself all the while, Dan wrote his mom a note and slapped it on the carafe.

#

After handing the cup of freshly brewed tea to his mentor, Dan took a seat on the floor at the other end of the coffee table. That was Caleb's spot, but the guy was stretched out on the sofa, where Dan usually sat. He looked like shit. To put it mildly.

"Are you sure tea is what you should be drinking?" Dan asked. "Not water?"

Caleb frowned. "You're worried about the caffeine?"

Dan shrugged. "It is a diuretic. And you said you lost a lot of blood."

"I didn't `lose' it," Caleb said. "I know right where it is." He raised his mug to his cracked lips. "Anyway, I'm less worried about replenishing fluids than sharpening my focus."

That those were his priorities was clear. The question was whether they should be.

"I'm just saying I don't see why you can't wait a day or two. Give yourself some time to recover." And, more importantly, give Dan a chance to talk to his mom.

"They have her father. She's not going to wait a few days to try and get him back."

"You said you don't plan on going with her," Dan reminded Caleb.

"I don't," his mentor confirmed. He tried to sit up, groaned, and abandoned the idea. Then he took another cautious sip of the tea, getting more of it in his beard than his mouth. "But if I don't repay the favor before she does, I might not get a chance to."

"Which would be bad...why?"

Caleb frowned at Dan. "Her death would not free me of my obligation. It would pass to her next of kin." Before Dan could point out that her father might not be long for this world either, his mentor added, "Or the Nation itself, if she doesn't have any."

"And the last thing we need is more of them showing up," Dan finished for him.

"Exactly."

He got up and walked over to the nearest bookshelf. Every thing there was probably enchanted. An answer for every problem. Why did they never seem to help, then?

No, that wasn't fair. If not for the incense, he'd have found himself in that same basement. Had his blood drained by witch-hunting duo, just like his mentor. Still, with all the time Caleb spent preparing for every eventuality, it seemed like they ought to have better options.

"So let's see if I understand correctly," Dan said, turning back to Caleb. "The warlock I read about on the internet, on a stupid website run by a guy wearing a tinfoil hat, is actually due to return. The wind told the Free Folk that they have to stop him. The witch-hunters can't wait to burn him again. Despite having a common enemy, though, they hate each other. And us too, simply because we exist. So of course we're going to stick ourselves in the middle of it, because reasons. That about the sum of it?"

"There's no such thing as warlocks. If you'd read the books I left you, you'd know that."

"Hey!" Dan said. "You didn't leave me shit. I asked if I could borrow them. And you only agreed to that after telling me not to touch the others." Which he'd totally forgotten to do. "Anyway, I have been reading them." Some of the time.

For all that any of that meant to Caleb, Dan might as well not even have spoken.

"There is a branch of magic that revolves around summoning Aetherials and forging pacts with them," Caleb explained. "Aetherials are beings of pure magic. They are neither good nor evil. But because they are not of this world, people once conflated them with demons and labeled those who consorted with them witches and warlocks. Practitioners of Aetherial magic have no more connection to Satanism than you or I."

"So you're saying we shouldn't even be worried about this guy?"

Caleb sighed. "I'm saying there's no reason to believe he's a devil worshiper. In your experience, is all the harm done in this world carried out by devil worshipers?"

"Fine," Dan said, kneeling across the coffee table from Caleb once more. "The witch-hunters have an outdated mindset, but that doesn't mean they're wrong. Better?"

"That's what we need to find out," Caleb said. "Aetherial magic is not intrinsically good or evil. The whole concept of `dark' magic is a relic of the past. But it is more powerful than any other sort, and its use has been instrumental in some of the worst atrocities in history."

"What, like the Holocaust?"

"No, that was ordinary people. The black plague, however, was started by Aetherial magic, and according to some estimates, claimed nearly a quarter of the world's population."

Dan frowned. "I thought rats takes the blame for that one."

"The spread, maybe," Caleb said. "The origin was decidedly supernatural, however."

"I see," Dan said. "Okay, I think I get it now. Just because terror attacks are always carried out by Muslims doesn't mean all Muslims are a threat. We've got an Islamic fundamentalist coming to town, though, and some people are up in arms. He might just hate bacon, beer, and women who can read, or he might be planning to blow people up. You figure it's at least worth talking to him before shit gets crazy."

"Eloquently put," Caleb said. "To continue the metaphor, we've got an terrorism expert on hand. He's young, hasn't even finished his dissertation, but could offer valuable insights."

"You want me to come with you? Fuck that noise. I don't owe anyone any favors."

Another trip to the Aether could lay him out for a week—or worse. Of course, he hadn't told Caleb about his obsession with his mom, or what that had led him to do, so his mentor wouldn't understand why he was reluctant to go back so soon.

"You don't owe me anything?" Caleb asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Dan sighed. "I meant that Maria chick, or whatever you said her name was." That got no reaction from the bearded one. He didn't even bother to confirm that Dan had gotten her name right, which he knew he had. "Suppose I've been making too many trips to the Aether. Teenage hormones and all that. And I'm starting to get worried about overdosing. Hypothetically speaking, of course. Would that change anything?"

Caleb frowned before making another attempt at his tea. "How bad?"

"Bled from my ears this morning." When that made Caleb grimace, which was unusually expressive for him, Dan sighed and said,"That bad, huh?"

"You'll pay a price," Caleb told him. "But I need you."

The conversation with his mom would have to wait, then. Which was no big deal, Dan told himself. Only a short while ago, he'd been eager to put it off. That had changed after she'd kissed him, but he had to know the conversation wouldn't lead to marathon sex the way the trial version of it had in the Aether. His mom had made that crystal clear. Mostly, it would consist of her expressing disapproval over the choices he'd made since Caleb had introduced him to magic, followed by a laundry list of all the reasons they couldn't bring their relationship to the next level. Was putting that off for a few hours so bad?

No, but the heavy bleeding from untold parts of his body might be.

"Just one last question—what's this got to do with repaying a favor to Maria?" Dan asked. When Caleb scowled at him, he said, "No, seriously. When I asked you what the rush is, you said that you've got to help her before she goes on a suicide mission to get her father back. Fine. But when I asked you why you're going to the Aether, you said that you want to talk to Barty so you can decide for yourself whether there's any reason for every damn Talent within a hundred miles to want to kill him."

"Barty?" his mentor said, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, New York City's less than—"

"So I exaggerated," Dan cut in. "Whatever. Answer the question."

Caleb regarded him silently for a time before saying, "I'm going to summon her after we speak to Bartholomew." He carefully enunciated each syllable of the name, as if Dan might have forgotten how to say it. "I haven't decided yet what I'm going to tell her."

Now they were getting somewhere. "Why not?"

"It's been decades since we last fought a war against the Free Folk, but plenty of blood has been spilled since then. There's no love lost between us." What was with the `we' and `us' talk all of a sudden? If he was a member of the Coalition, he'd never told Dan. Whatever that even was. There was nothing about such an organization in his books. At least not the ones Dan had borrowed. "I wouldn't even be here if not—"

"Yes?" Dan asked when he realized Caleb had cut himself off.

"Nevermind," the bearded one said. "The point is, she's not our ally, no matter what she might have done for me. I have a certain obligation towards her as a result of that, yes, but there's a difference between minimally fulfilling it and handing her certain victory."

"You can do that?" Caleb didn't reply, which told Dan all he needed to know."What would make you choose one level of assistance over the other?"

"First, we need to decide whether Bartholomew really is a threat," Caleb said. "If so, we don't want her taking out the witch-hunters. They've probably got a vial of Bartholomew's blood. That puts them in a much better position to deal with him than any of us are."

"And we might want to take advantage of that," Dan said in a flat voice. "Even though you'll probably decide we have no choice but to fight them once they deal with Barty."

The only reply he got was, "If Maria can be persuaded not to hang around waiting to kill an innocent man, then I'll lend more assistance than is strictly required."

It was Dan's turn to fall silent.

"Does that answer your question?" Caleb asked.