He stumbled back, falling against the wall, but I stayed with him. I tangled my fingers into his hair and held on, putting everything I had into the kiss. After a startled second or two, he moaned deeply and began kissing me back. Soon, the iron bands of his arms were wrapped around my waist as I let go of my hold on his head and sent my hands wandering over his shoulders and back. I felt myself being lifted, the two of us propelled backwards, until it was my back against a hard place. My legs wrapped about his waist with only a thought.
Our tongues dueled for supremacy and I tingled all over as my added weight gave him not a moment's pause. For the moment, I felt infinitely small and delicate against his sheer strength and I reveled in it, even as I reminded myself of the need to maintain control. I traced the line through his thoughts and gave a hard pull. He groaned again as his knees buckled underneath us. I could feel the impact of the floor on his knees to my bones, but I never let up. I sent him backwards, maintaining my grip until he was on his back at last. When I knew he was definitely down, I untangled my legs until I was only straddling him, not pinned as well. I gave his pelvis a hard grind with my own and I swear I heard him whimper even as he thrust back up to meet me.
I timed my pulls on the line with the grind of my hips over his hard length, releasing his mouth at last so I could breathe. I had to breathe, had to think, while I did my level best to turn his mind to mush beneath me. It was more difficult to do than I had anticipated. He traced the line back through me, more a reflex of instinct than a conscious effort and I had to admit it felt good. Really good. I lost sight of my original purpose in a breathless moment of sparkling pleasure, my toes curling involuntarily in my kick-ass boots as his mouth sent nips and licks over the flesh of my neck. We groaned and panted in tandem as sweet desire and agonizing passion torrented through our bodies.
The line was a ribbon of delight and we played a game of tug-of-war with it in fits and starts and vibrating flutters. We wrestled together on the floor like animals as power switched hands that grasped and stroked as we willed them. I let out a surprised moan when Al managed to flip us both so that it was my back on the floor, marveling once again at his display of strength and my visceral reaction to it. He pulled responses from me that I hardly knew were there, and I felt rather than heard the rumbling groans I got in return. Neither of us seemed to have retained the power of intelligent speech; wordless cries and encouraging whimpers were all that remained to be had. We battled for supremacy with every ounce of strength our bodies possessed, and in my case, resorted to cajoling seductions to get it. At last, he let me flip him once more, giving in to my need to be on top. I heard no complaints from his end as he set about attacking my neck with blunt teeth scraping over sensitive scars buried beneath the surface. The added stimulation had me writhing on top of him, scrambling to find a way to best him in this, grappling for the power I knew must reside within me somewhere that would allow me to bring him to the brink, but I was just as lost as he, if not more so.
I gave up trying to win it like a game, communing fully with the line and the moment at hand. I felt a chime deep within my soul as my connection was complete. I felt Al join a moment later, our thoughts twining and cavorting in the red hazy wash of it. Climax dangled just within reach and I grabbed for it with little thought to anything else. My back arched, my body drawn tight as a bow, as a shriek of fulfillment ripped through me. Distantly, I heard him roar right along side and I collapsed, panting on his heaving chest.
I held back the tears of catharsis that wanted to flow. I had forgotten, in my quest to put Al in his place, how long it had been since I'd been with someone. My averted climax that very morning had weakened me, as well, and at the slightest urging, my resolve had crumbled into dust. When pleasure beckoned, I followed. I was a stupid, stupid witch.
Guilt came and went. All that was left was damage control. My hammering pulse slowed as I frantically thought for a way to salvage something of the mess I'd just gotten myself into. Silence reigned, broken only by harsh breathing returning to normal rhythms as we processed what had just happened. I had been right about one thing: everything had changed. I swallowed, cleared my tortured throat, and tried to think fast past the tingle of afterglow. Rallying courage, I lifted my head and met his goat-slitted eyes with my own. A look of wonder was plastered on his face, leaving his visage smooth and unwrinkled and looking impossibly young, goat eyes aside.
Resisting the urge to jump up and begin straightening my clothes, I propped my forearms on his chest and gazed down at him, still straddling him, still holding him down. "It's not very pleasant," I began, "is it?"
A startled huff of laughter left him, jostling me with the movement of his chest. "'Pleasant' isn't the adjective I would use to describe what happened just now, no." He peered up at me curiously, release having left him languid and redolent. He gifted me with one of his rare, real half-smiles. "But since you seem to be ahead of the curve, just now, perhaps you'd like to share what thoughts are running through that itchy mind of yours with the rest of the class, hmm?" He smoothed back my frizzy hair with a soft hand, the gesture tender and loving and so at odds with him that I nearly choked on what I was about to say next.
"It's not pleasant to have your emotions messed with, so I'd appreciate if, in the future, you'd remember that. Don't mess with mine again."
The play of emotions on his face happened in quick succession and I watched avidly for every one. "Emotions messed with…?" Curiosity turned to confusion, to comprehension, to anger, and finally to a flinty-cold mask of a smile. "So noted," he said in a clipped voice, tendrils of his anger leaking through. "I suppose this makes us even."
"Not even. At least I let you come," I scoffed.
"Fine. Now get off me," he growled and I jumped up as if burned. If looks alone could kill, the fire of retribution dancing in his eyes would have scorched me on the spot as he stood as well, smoothing the wrinkles out of his crushed velvet. He regained a bit of his polish and composure, though crackling sparks in his gaze still looked as though they wanted to roast me. "Just know this. Student or no, last hope of demonkind or no, if you ever do that again, you will wish with every fibre of your being that Daddy Kalamack had left well enough alone. Are we clear?"
I tossed my head in annoyance. "Crystal. And if you ever use somebody I care about to trick me into that again, Newt won't need to neuter you. I'll nail your balls to the stone table at the mall. Are we clear?"
"My, how the kitten has found her claws. So. Be. It."
"Until the two worlds collide," I affirmed. I wanted no doubt as to the seriousness of our oaths.
"And ever after," he agreed. We didn't bother to shake on it. Our word was enough, and by the way we were glaring at one another in hatred, it was obvious that even that small amount of contact was too distasteful to us both.
"Well, now that that bit of business is complete, we still have a job to do," he sniffed, tugging at the lace in his sleeves. "Shall we get on with it so I may send you home and out of my hair for the next few days?"
"Please."
"Excellent." He stalked over to the giant calling glyph he had mounted to the wall and slapped a hand to it. "Algaliarept calling Strontanchaark. Yes, I'll accept the charges." I snorted and rolled my eyes at the expression, then paced to the bookshelf where I pretended to read the titles. "Tron," he said with false enthusiasm. "Good news. You're getting a brand new car tonight. There's just the little matter of how we're going to get it to you." He paused for a moment as Tron made a reply. "Mmmhmmm. Well, travel expenses are included in the cost, you know. Yes, yes, all very standard as we both remember. A trip for two, one-way. I'll handle the trip back. Sure. See you in a mo'." He gestured impatiently for me to join him by the mirror. I sighed and stalked to his side, carefully not touching him as I laid a hand on the glyph. My thoughts made contact with the collective, and through it, Tron. In that instant, we were away.
I rematerialized in a rectangular room with unfinished walls and hip-height workbenches and air that smelled, amongst the burnt amber, like motor oil. Tools and bits of machinery lined the benches of what looked like nothing so much as a pre-turn garage with a concrete floor, a single dark window, and a bay of fluorescents overhead producing a flickering facsimile of green-tinted light. The space in the very middle of the garage was empty. Adjacent to the empty spot, leaning against a workbench, was a demon who bore a striking resemblance to a 1950's greaser in blue jeans, white tee-shirt. slicked-back hair, and a leather jacket to complete the look. If not for the slight protuberances of horns on his forehead, the affectation would have been perfect.
"So which are you," I quipped, "Shark or Jet?"
He grinned, showing pointy canine teeth. "Shark, of course," he replied, and tossed his head to fling back the single lock of hair that dared escape his coiffure.
"Right." Sarcasm was lost on so many. "Sooo, right here in the middle, I take it?"
"Yup," he nodded.
"Ok, Al. Let's do this." I had only ever done this with Newt's help, and I was afraid I'd forgotten the steps. I didn't want Tron to see just how nervous I was, so I sat on the floor with my legs crossed, just like Newt had made me sit before, and thought back to that fateful night with every ounce of concentration I possessed. I reached out to the collective, hearing all the noise that hadn't been present the last time. Don't mind me, I thought ruefully, just making a car, here. Please, go about your business. I reached for the center of calm within, the empty place where a second soul would reside as I held it and nurtured it if I ever did have a child. It helped me blot out the noise and I sheltered for a moment in the stillness. I took in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly, trying to forget that I was swimming naked through the collective, where any and all could see me. I felt as though I was standing in the median of a busy highway, the thoughts of so many others zipping to and fro, the wake of the displacement causing my mind to bob and shift in the waves.
I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but somebody was bound to take note.
I felt, rather than saw her, and our minds recognized each other over the humming din of so many transactions and line jumps going on at once. She drifted close to me, the stillness around her like a mandorla of emptiness, until finally that empty space enclosed and sheltered me. Would you like me to kick them all out? she offered, but I just shook my incorporeal head to the negatory and felt glad, for once, of her presence.
Just keep them away from me for a moment, please. Just long enough for me to pop out this car.
Take all the time you need, she replied, amusement evident in her tone. You're still a beginner at this.
That's what I said. Tinkling bells seemed to accompany her girlish laughter and I did my best not to cringe. Putting all else from my mind, I thought about the car I had gone cross-country in, sleeping and eating within its confines. For three days, it had been my home. I knew every stain, every nick in the upholstery by heart. It was a trial not to imagine Trent asleep in the passenger seat, or Ivy in the back munching on Milk Duds, or Jenks sitting high on the rearview mirror. Somehow, I managed not to supply the car with occupants. When I was ready to have the thing lifted out, I balked just a bit. In order to complete the thing, cementing it as real and not just as a thought (albeit, a well-flushed out one) in my head, I'd have to let Al in.
I was a stupid, stupid witch.
Seeing my unease, Newt smiled. Fortune favors the brave, she teased. In this case, if you're ever going to make a fortune, best be brave.
I grumbled to myself a bit, then opened my eyes, my second sight blurring over everything, Al included. I gestured impatiently for him to sit on the floor in front of me and he complied, looking for all the world like he would rather do anything else. I closed my eyes tight, a frown of concentration taking up residence on my face, as I reached out a hand and felt Al's momentary hesitation at the door I opened for him. Come on in, I goaded. Come see the freak show.
Just like that, he was there, standing beside me while the two of us looked down at the car sitting neat as you please in the garage, although I knew we were sitting off a little to the side. With my part over, I paid close attention to the sensations of having the car peeled back from my consciousness. When he was sure he had everything, I felt the gravity shift beneath me, until I was sitting once more, reality snapped firmly back into place.
I opened my eyes and looked over at the thing we had made, shining dully under the harsh green lights. It was my mother's car. My car. We'd done it.
Tron was cooing in delight, running his hands over the hood of the vehicle, laying a cheek against the room-temperature metal. "Oh, my sweet baby. You and I are going to have fun times." I tried not to make a face at the endearment and subsequent personification of the thing. It was his now, and he could be as creepy toward it as he liked. "I take it," he whispered happily, and I caught sight of a shadow of smut adhere to the fading black outline that was his aura as my second sight slipped away.
I stood from my seat on the floor, feeling light-headed. "Tired, now," I complained. "Take me home."
"As you wish, Rachel," Al said softly, but I was far too tired to care about what the hell he called me or how he said anything. I was going to sleep for half a day at least.
He took my arm in the crook of his own, crushed velvet soft under my fingertips. The gallant gesture was lost on me. All I cared about was the bed that awaited me in my nice, demon-free church. I still had that, at least. Hallowed ground didn't phase me one iota. If being bone-weary was the price I had to pay to be a demonic contractor, I was just about ready to retire.
Al shielded my thoughts for me in the line, as I was too slow to bring up a proper circle of my own in time. Dematerializing and rematerializing almost hurt. I stumbled a little on my feet as the floor became solid beneath them. When I looked up to see Al's library, I growled. "Home, Al. Not yours, mine."
"Just a quick stop. Wouldn't want to forget your gargoyle, now would you?"
"Ah, crap. Bis."
"Ms Morgan!" Bis cried, swooping down to land on my shoulder. Every line in the vicinity blazed flaming trails through my mind and I nearly squeaked in pain. "Are you all right?" The adolescent gargoyle's voice dripped with concern.
"Fine, Bis. Just tired. Need to go to bed."
"And to bed you shall go, Itchy Witch," Al declared as we spiraled off through the lines once more.
We landed in my own kitchen. For once, I didn't care that we were line jumping inside the church. It was close to midnight and the pixies should have been in bed around then. Ivy tended to be out of the church most nights, especially on a night when she had a run or an investigation to attend to. There was little to no chance that we'd be running into anybody on our way in, and with such a high-traffic area, the phrase 'running into' could be taken quite literally. Hell, I didn't even care that the Hallow spell might start catching on to my demonic DNA, the less I had to walk to reach my comfy mattress, the happier I'd be.
Bis hopped from my shoulder as I lurched to begin my plodding progress toward that end, but I was brought up short by a tug on my arm. I made a whimpering sound in the back of my throat as Al spun me back around to face him. "What now?" I whined. I hated being reduced to a petulant child, but that's what tired and cranky sometimes made me.
Al looked seriously into my eyes for a moment and softly began to speak. "For what it's worth, Rachel, I didn't lie."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Everything I said to you this morning, every word, I told true. I know you'll find that hard to believe." He lifted a hand to stroke my face and I shrank back from the action. He sighed and let his hand drop, though he still held my arm in a gentle, yet inescapable grasp. "I know you better than anyone. You can say I know you soul-deep, and I don't need to lie to you. You do enough of that for the both of us."
I yanked my arm back from him in indignation and swayed a little on my feet at the action, but I regained my balance and stood firm. "I'm no liar, Al. I didn't lie to you-or anyone, for that matter-so don't you dare start pointing the finger at me, buddy."
"Rachel, Rachel. Jumping to conclusions again. I didn't say you were lying to me. I only meant that you are a master at lying to yourself. One day, I hope you can see that… never mind. I can tell this is only falling on deaf ears, so I will let you get your rest. Sweet dreams, Itchy Witch. I will see you on Monday." He turned to go. I didn't know why, but I felt I had to stop him.
"Al, you were so mad at me in your kitchen, and I don't blame you for it one bit. What changed?"
"You," he said simply. "You've changed, while I thought that was something impossible, any more. People don't change, at least in my considerable experience. You give me hope. Hope for us all." He regarded me thoughtfully for a long moment in which I felt my heart did not beat. "Go. Rest. I will have that book you wanted by Monday." In a shimmer, he was gone, and I stood by myself in my kitchen. I felt the sudden urge to wrap my arms around myself and cry.
A tentative claw touched my leg and I looked down. Bis looked up at me with love and compassion and with his sad eyes alone upon me, I finally let the tears go.
Cincinnati's lines glowed bright behind my burning eyelids as I felt a pair of large, scaly arms come around me, followed by the soft rasp of leathery wings. He'd made himself big to comfort me and all I could do was take what was offered and bury my face into his chest and hug back. A few wracking sobs later and I was completely spent. I felt myself gingerly lifted and jostled as he carried me the short distance toward my bed. He laid me down on the soft mattress, and before he could go, I gripped his arm. "Stay with me?" I begged, not wanting to be alone.
The bed shifted with the added weight as he settled down beside me and covered me with an arm and wing. "Always," he whispered, and I drifted, Cincinnati's lines singing me a lullaby to send me into a dreamless sleep.
A/N (Ducking flung objects) Ok, so they finally took it to the next level. Two steps forward, one step back, I always say. But hey, this is Al and Rachel we're talking about, here. You didn't expect sunshine and roses, did you?
The weekend lies ahead, so Rachel gets to hang in reality for a little bit. I'll be looking into the theft of the fountain's finial statue in the next chapter, and fear not! Al will be making an appearance again.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but I'm no mind reader. Please review! Thanks!