A/N Welcome to Full Circle

FC is a multi-chapter TDL fanfic based around the magicias Gerald and Jamie. There will be slash, definite Gerald/Jamie and possible Jamie/Seb.

FC may also make reference to Sorceror and Stone, a short story by SRB which can be found on her livejournal page (sarahtales)

Thanks to Mathsnerd for beta-ing. This fic is dedicated to the marmfish and 3 o'clock in the morning (:

-Ekkah

One

All magicians have their own way of summoning demons. Some do it in rhyme; some find some ancient tongue and practice their lines for days. They spread salt over their circles, they sang out loud, they danced like market-people (though with fewer fleas), and waved their arms as though the demons were attracted to anyone making a fool of themselves.

Black Arthur never set up his own circles. He sent his minions into the room and once they'd drawn his circle, prepared the magic, and – basically – summoned the demon for him, he pushed through the double doors (both at once, horribly ostentatious), clapped his hands together, and called the demon's name once. Like a teacher calling on an errant child.

Gerald had his own preferred method and as he stepped back from a crudely chalked circle to lean on the window ledge of the horrible run-down old house Arthur had sent him to because circle leaders couldn't possibly endure a house without central heating he employed it. "Anzu," he called, with the weary tones of one who had done this many times before. "Get your ass down here."

Some demons appeared to their magicians as smoke, with thunderclaps, displaying their power. These days, Anzu just appeared in the middle of the circle. He was a tall winged man with a hooked nose that Gerald didn't find attractive in the slightest. "You called," he said, smiling wickedly.

"How's home?" Gerald asked, moving away from the window towards the door. He had a job to do.

Anzu was looking down at where he was standing. "The circles are bigger there," he said unnecessarily. "Also prettier."

Gerald sighed and leant against the wall, apparently to get any information they were going to have to 'chat.' Gerald hated chatting; he saw no point in all this meaningless meandering around a point. "Prettier how?" he asked, trying to pretend he hadn't had this conversation every other time Arthur had sent him to summon Anzu away from the circle.

"Well," Anzu began, examining his circle closely. "They're not wonky, for a start."

"How's home?" Gerald repeated.

Anzu grinned. "I just told –"

"See you later." He pulled open the door and stepped through, slamming it shut on Anzu's half-started reply. Maybe the demon would be more forthcoming after being trapped in the circle alone for a few hours.

After all, nothing ever changed back at the House. Arthur would be leading the others like a pretentious owner with a particularly callous pack of dogs and bragging to anyone who would listen about his genius before sending Gerald off to get him tea or some other equally mundane task that revealed just how little he knew about Gerald's power.

Like this assignment, for example. Watch the boy. Like the boy ever did anything worth watching. Well, maybe worth Charles watching or worth Mark watching. Nothing worth Gerald's time.

But Gerald was nothing if not obedient, at least for now. So he fetched tea, he lived in the wreck of a house and he shook himself into bird form to fly towards the boy's school and watch him fail English for the third time this week.

Nicholas Ryves – Hnikarr, as Arthur still insisted they call him – was being spectacularly uninteresting today. Gerald kept himself awake by calling insults at the local crows. The game was even more fun if he pretended each one was Black Arthur in disguise.

He glanced back at his quarry only to discover the classroom had emptied while he was distracted and the demon had vanished off somewhere. Great. Now he had to put effort in, he might have to use a fifth, maybe even a tenth of his skills. No wonder Arthur sent someone so highly qualified. He spread his wings to take off –

And almost fell out of the tree as magic flashed across all five senses. The crow opposite him let out the closest thing crows have to a laugh.

Gerald responded with the closest thing crows have to a swear word and took to flight successfully, this time prepared for the weaker flash and ready to hone in on it.

There! It wasn't hard to track, wasn't shielded at all. The only protection was the fact that it was so weak you would have to be as close as Gerald was to feel anything at all. A demon's magic – even a restrained, weak demon – wouldn't be that weak.

That ruled out Nick. But it had definitely been real magic, which ruled out the pathetic trinkets the 'brothers' picked up from the Market.

Were another group of wizards honing in? Surely no wizard that weak would make the mistake of attempting to swipe Black Arthur's property. Gerald banked sideways, tracing the remnants of magic around the back of the school building to where a crowd of large boys were crowded around something.

The scene was easily recognisable from all Gerald's time at school. Sure, he'd never actually been in the middle, but he'd seen it happen. He'd never really felt the urge to help; bullies, victims, they all alienated him in the same way. The victim of these bullies was even less his concern.

He just needed to work out which large, bulky guy from the group of large bulky guys was his magician.

He perched on a bin and waited for another flash of magic.

"How're you feeling, Crawford?" one of the boys called, as the others cheered him on. "Gonna get your boyfriend to come rescue you?"

Through a small gap in the boys, Gerald caught sight of blonde hair and a flash of silver. An earring, so it wasn't like the boy even tried to hide it.

Gerald had never come out to his circle. He wore conservative clothes, agreed non-committaly to all Arthur's Olivia-fantasizing, and didn't tell anyone about the incident when Anzu possessed someone who could have passed for attractive and then there was the cupboard and it was dark and, really, a mistake anyone could make.

Then it came again, the impossibly faint touch of magic which had practically run out already. But who...

And through a gap in the legs Gerald caught sight of sparks dying on the victim's outstretched fingers. Magic sparks. Sparks of magic.

The blond boy was the magician. Cowering on the floor with one arm over his head;really, he was a complete disgrace to their entire race. Why didn't he have power? Why didn't he go and find a Circle and send all these thugs back to Hell?

It was tempting to leave him to learn his lesson, but if Black Arthur found out, he might feed Gerald to Anzu and becoming a demon's vessel wasn't high on Gerald's to-do list.

Neither was using magic in range of a very powerful demon with a magic-sensing talisman, of course. Which meant Gerald had to do something several miles below his dignity and fly directly into the leader's face, squawking and flapping his wings like an animal.

It was all horribly embarrassing and with any luck no one would ever find out. He was pretty sure the bully wouldn't tell, because he pretty much turned tail and fled, his gang behind him.

Gerald dropped down beside the boy to check he was still alive. His chest was rising and falling; that would have to be good enough because his eyes were starting to open and Gerald's illusion could be picked up by another competent magic user. Maybe.

He flew away, committing the name 'Crawford' to memory and wondering if he should've stayed long enough to get a description for Arthur other than just 'blond and earringed.'

"Anzu."

Anzu looked around, the chess set he'd been, presumably, playing with solo vanishing as he caught sight of Gerald. "Had a good day?" he asked slyly.

Gerald glanced in the mirror across the room and saw that his hair was dishevelled and his eyes were full of frustration. He took a deep breath, flattened his hair with one hand and schooled his features into a more neutral expression. "Any news from home?"

"Nothing new," Anzu replied, apparently more forthcoming now. "Black Arthur wants daily progress reports."

"Black Arthur wants a lot of things," Gerald replied, before he could stop himself.

Anzu laughed and clapped his hands together. "Dissention in the ranks? Are we going to have a turf war? I love a good turf war."

Gerald schooled his face for the second time. "I intend to do no such thing and I'm sure Lord Arthur wouldn't believe you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, throwing it into the circle in one easy movement.

Anzu moved faster than any human, snatching the phone from the air before it started to fall. "Nice," he remarked appreciatively, running his claws over the iPhone's touch screen.

"If you scratch it," said Gerald. "I will end you." He tapped his fingers impatiently against his leg. "I need it charged."

A somewhat irrelevant command, as Anzu had already got the phone powered and working so he could flick through Gerald's contacts. "Do you seriously know no one outside of the circle? There's this thing called a 'life' which you could do with." He grinned. "But then, why get a boyfriend when you have a demon you can send after the guy of your dreams."

Gerald didn't turn pink through force of will. He also managed to bite down on the 'that was only one time' retort which was all his mind could come up with. He did hold out his hand for the phone.

"Even Black Arthur has more contacts than you," Anzu said, not giving it back.

Gerald couldn't fight the curiosity. "Why did you have Arthur's phone?"

Anzu shrugged his wings. "Boredom, mostly." He tossed the phone back out of the circle and Gerald caught it. There was, predictably, a long scratch down the side.

If Gerald had been allowed to summon his own demons he could've cast Anzu out and never summoned him again as punishment. As it was, the only thing he could do was leave the room in the hope that the demon would get bored and lonely. Unfortunately, Gerald was experiencing exactly the same things as he went downstairs to heat up a tin of something revolting and processed over a gas fire.

While he waited for the gunk to boil, he used the scratched phone to call Arthur. Unfortunately, calling Arthur involved phoning Laura (Arthur's mobile had gone missing mysteriously a while back; Gerald had never even considered asking Anzu about this until now) which would involve a long conversation about whether Gerald was getting enough vegetables.

He got through to Arthur when he was half-way through washing up in cold water. Unfortunately, talking to the circle leader required full concentration so Gerald had to dry his hands and take the levitation charm off the phone, actually holding it in his hand.

"Lord Arthur."

"Gerald," replied Arthur crisply. If Laura was rambling and incessant, Black Arthur was her polar opposite. Like Gerald, in the way that meant they couldn't really stand each other.

"I got here."

"Good."

"Found your project."

"Right."

"He still isn't using magic."

"Good."

Maybe, Gerald mused, using his free hand to pull the plug out of the sink. We could replace our Fearless Leader with a robot.

"Have you seen Olivia yet?" he continued, predictably.

"Not yet."

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Gerald wondered if this was a good time to mention that he found Nick more attractive than his mother. Probably not. Though the thought, combined with his Moment of Weakness with Anzu raised a question about whether Gerald might be more attracted to demons...

He quashed that thought quickly. It wasn't his fault there were no attractive boys in his circle. Maybe he could date earring-boy, pass it off to Arthur as 'experimentation.' It wasn't like no one had seen the Looks between Arthur and Charles, after all.

He made a sound of agreement and changed the subject quickly. "While I was watching the boy."

"Not the boy! The demon or the Project or Hnikarr. It's not a boy, Gerald."

Gerald rolled his eyes, but didn't point out that 'boy' didn't necessarily mean human. He also didn't mention that sometimes Nick Ryves seemed more human than Arthur Dee had ever been. "While I was watching the demon," he said. "I felt magic. I traced it to its source."

"Did you leave the demon? You can't leave it unattended."

Gerald wondered briefly what Arthur thought his minions did at night or at meal times. He was pretty certain no one on Nick-watch had ever gone more than a few hours without leaving him unattended. "No," he lied blatantly. "I didn't leave it unattended. I traced the magic to its source and I found a magician."

"Which circle?"

"No circle. Just a boy with magic, looked about fourteen maybe? He was being beaten up."

"By? Magicians? Market folk?"

Something worse, Gerald thought. "School boys," he said.

"He didn't fight them off?"

Gerald couldn't help flashing back to his own childhood, thinking that 'fighting them off' was an easy thing for someone like Arthur to say, but the reality was somewhat different. "He was weak," he said. "He didn't seem to be part of a circle, he definitely wasn't a necromancer."

"Hmm," Arthur replied. "Well, I will add this as an extra assignment for you. Laura has been telling me at great length how your talents could be used for more than a simple reconnaissance mission."

So you're giving me two reconnaissance missions. Lucky me.

"You and this boy might have a great deal in common." Gerald could hear Arthur's snide smile.

Then there was a click and Gerald was once again alone in a cold house with what had to be the most surreal demon out there.

And Gerald didn't know whether to hope Earring had a happy family or to hope they were kindred spirits. Either way, he told himself firmly. Fourteen is too young for a boyfriend.

He stacked his plate, pan, and spoon on the draining board and – with a sigh – headed upstairs to the best company Exeter could offer: a mobile-destroying, overly sarcastic demon.

Gerald wondered what possible crimes he might have committed in a previous life to deserve this, and fervently hoped they'd been worth it.