Boots (6 page)

No footsteps came to the door. Willem pressed his ear to the wood.
Nothing.
Maybe it was all a false alarm and Joey was at work, perfectly fine. Still, he had come this far. He reached up and groped around the top of the doorframe until he found the key that Joey "hid" there. Maybe it was an out-of-the-way place for someone Joey's height, but at six-foot-four, Willem could practically stand on his tiptoes to spot it.

He took a cautious step inside, wary of what he might be walking into. Under the creak and hiss of the radiators, another sound reached him. Someone sobbed from the bedroom.

"Joey?" He hurried down the hall, imagining a dozen different disasters. Joey lay curled up on top of the bedspread in his red silk bathrobe, face buried in his hands, body trembling as he wailed.

Willem called softly from the doorway, not wanting to scare the hell out of him. "Joey? Sweetheart? It's me... "

Despite his careful intentions, Joey startled and squeaked as he scuttled toward the headboard, pulling the robe close around him. His face was blotchy from crying and ashen, the way he looked sometimes after the worst hangovers. "Will? Oh, holy shit. I didn't hear you. Oh, damn." He buried his face back in his hands, his voice trembling. "I didn't want you to see me like this!"

"Like what?" Willem eased down onto the edge of the bed. "I've seen you with the flu, hon. Whatever's happened, it can't be worse than that. Gun said you called. He said you sounded scared."

"It's awful, Will! I don't know what to do. Leo ran out on me and he thinks I have some horrible new strain of VD or something and--"

He put a hand on Joey's foot, the only part he could reach with Joey continually scooting away from him. "Leo's an ass. If you're sick, we need to get you some help. Now take a breath and tell me what's happened."

Instead of answering, Joey straightened his legs out and, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, opened his robe. Willem sucked in a breath at the sight of Joey's groin, red and inflamed, with oozing, crusty blisters covering most of his skin.

"That... has got to hurt."

Joey nodded, tears starting in his eyes again as he closed the robe.

"Does it go all the way around?"

"Yeah. My ass is covered, too." Joey pulled in a huge sniff. "I can't drive myself to the doctor. I can't even get dressed, it hurts so bad."

"Maybe you should've called an ambulance, hon."

"And let the paramedics see me like this?" Joey shrieked.

Willem wasn't sure if he stopped himself before his eyes rolled. Vain and preening, he might be hurting, but it was still Joey under those nasty blisters. "Have you been fooling around in the woods lately?"

"No! I--" Joey's nose crinkled, an expression that meant he was thinking hard. "I don't think so. I mean, there were a couple nights I was really, really trashed."

"So Leo could've had you rolling around in the bushes somewhere?"

"I guess. Why?"

He patted Joey's ankle. "Looks like the poison ivy Kurt used to get. Not, um, where you have it, but he'd always get it real bad. Puffed his face all up. Blisters that wouldn't quit."

"You think that's all it is?" Joey scooted closer, his eyes pleading for reassurance.

No, I know what it is. But I can't tell you my damn cat put a spell on you.
"I'm pretty sure."

Joey swiped at his eyes with another sniff. "I've been so damn scared, Will. The only thing that made it any better was thinking about you. That's why I called Gun looking for you. I know it doesn't make any sense."

Before he thought about consequences, he reached out to smooth a curl back from Joey's forehead. The little guy just looked so miserable. By the time he realized his mistake, he had an armful of Joey practically crawling into his lap, sobbing against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry! I was stupid and you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You wouldn't have run out when I needed you. My big, strong Will, please, please say you forgive me. Move back in with me. I don't care if you don't have a job yet. We'll find you something. I'll do better. Try harder... "

Joey trailed off when Willem put a finger under his chin to lift his head. He bit back a sigh when the boy looked like he wanted a kiss. "It wouldn't work, hon. We can't go back now."

"Don't you love me anymore? You can't forgive me?"

Damn, not more tears. God.
"Of course I love you. I can't just turn that off. But you ripped my heart out and diced it up pretty fine."

Joey ran a finger down the pulse point of his throat and Willem swallowed hard. He'd always melted when Joey touched him there. "You'd lost your job. We were fighting a lot. And then Leo was there. I was selfish and stupid."

The finger traced Willem's ear and his stupid cock stirred.
Down, boy.

"Say you forgive me. Tell me we can start over."

He took Joey's face between his hands, searching his big, dark eyes. "I forgive you, sweetheart. I do."

A home, the comfort of regular meals, a bed, and hot water, someone human in his arms at night, it was tempting. He wanted to pretend it would be all right, wanted to turn back the clock and erase the bad moments, but he couldn't. His eyes were open now, and he had a lover waiting for him who hadn't tried to control his every touch, who appreciated who he was instead of who he thought Willem should be.

"But I'm sorry. It just wasn't working. Even before Leo. You wanted someone big and strong, hon. Turns out, you didn't really want me. I can't change for you, and it was wrong of me to want you to change for me."

"Oh." Joey moved back. He looked disappointed but not devastated. Then his head jerked down toward his lap. "Oh! Will, look!"

"What now?" Will frowned. He didn't want to look at Joey's blistered crotch again, but when he glanced down, his mouth hung open. Slowly, starting at the edges, the oozing sores dried and shrank while he watched, the inflamed patches of skin fading to a less painful-looking pink.

"Oh, my God," Joey whispered. "Will, tell me you see this."

Willem nodded, for a moment unable to form words. All across Joey's skin, the blisters vanished. Only the barest trace of irritated skin remained. "What the... "

Joey squealed in delight and flung off the robe, turning in front of the mirror. "They're gone, Will! Holy fuck, they're gone!" He ran to hug Willem and then raced back to the mirror to look again. He laughed, twirling. "You're my good luck charm!"

Someone's going to have to do some serious explaining later. And I better like the answers.
"At least you're better. That's the important thing. Must've been some weird allergic reaction."

Still stark naked, Joey cocked his head to one side. "When's the last time you had a shower?"

Willem tried to ignore the flush climbing his neck. "Couple days ago, probably."

"Take one with me. I'll wash your back." Joey pulled out his best come-fuck-me smile and held out his hands.

Tempting, again. He knew that beautiful, compact body so well, knew just how it would feel to shove Joey up against the shower wall, spread his thighs, and take him. Willem squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the image. "Maybe not the best idea, hon. I don't need a pity screw and you don't need me giving you the wrong idea."

He watched Joey's expressions run through disappointment and offense, waiting for the explosion. It never came. Joey ducked his head, his next expression one Willem had never seen on him. He could have sworn it was shame.

"I get it, Will. I'm sorry. For everything." Joey pulled a blanket off the bed to cover himself. "I was a dick to you, and you still showed up when you thought I was in trouble. Please. Use the shower. You need one, baby. I'll stay out here."

Willem tried not to gape, though he wondered when he had stepped through the dimensional door into
The Twilight Zone.
Joey insisted, he had his first hot shower in days, and they parted with a kiss and a warm embrace.

"You'll find your big bear of a sugar daddy someday," Willem whispered into his hair.

"Dear God, I hope so." Joey rolled his eyes, but sounded much more himself again.

"Just don't cheat on him when you do."

He was still royally pissed at Kasha, but making his peace with his ex felt... better. No denying it, he felt better.

Kasha peered out from the underbrush. The house and grounds appeared quiet today, no gatherings, no guests, just as he had hoped. He had known about the owner for some time, but had never felt the need to approach before.

It wasn't that he was afraid, certainly not, but anxious about the outcome? Yes, that was only sensible. Willem needed him to accomplish a few, simple things, whether he knew it or not yet. He needed housing, that first and foremost. He needed patronage and a new love interest to inspire him. If the patronage came with the friendship of powerful people, that would be all the better.

These things had to be approached carefully, though. He never had been at his best with females.

"Yorukaze, your transgressions cannot be overlooked this time." Amaterasu had spoken softly, but the sun goddess's face was stern.

"My lady, give me but another chance! It was a mistake, a moment's indiscretion! Any punishment you mete out, I will gladly accept!" Even while he protested, he knew it was too late.

"A dalliance would be indiscretion, Yorukaze. But this is no dalliance. You have broken your oaths, not once but three times. You overstep, my kasha, your arrogance driving you to believe that you are wiser than Lady Death herself."

"He was too young! He had such promise!"

"You are banned from these precincts and stripped of all but the most rudimentary magic. You will learn humility by serving humankind in their world, serving their petty needs and desires, only gaining some of your strength again when you are claimed and leashed."

"My lady, please! You cannot be so cruel! I only did what I thought right and just!"

Perhaps that hadn't been the wisest thing to say. She had flung him from her kingdom with such force, he lay senseless for a number of months thereafter. He had served faithfully since, though he had little choice with the compulsions set upon him. An instrument of the gods' whims, sometimes the humans he served were contemptible, sometimes they shone with inner strength. For good or ill, he helped them gain what they needed, which was not always what they believed they wanted. When they took back what they had given, he was free, or when they expired, likewise.

Free.
He snorted. It was always a hollow, bitter, short-lived freedom, stripped to nothing but cheap conjuring, left to his own devices only until the spirit winds called his name again.

So often, he had served men of ambition, men who shaped the course of those around them. To serve someone like Willem was unusual, someone so...

He hesitated to say ordinary. It was less than accurate. Someone of such narrow influence, perhaps, though Willem was young. Who could say what events he would affect eventually?

Getting as bad as the boy, sitting in the damp brush, ruminating.
He shook himself and pushed his way through the blackberry bushes to stride across the lawn on two legs.

The house sat in a large clearing, surrounded by flowerbeds and an expanse of lawn, still green this late in the year. Here and there, sculpture dotted the landscape, everything from a classically inspired male nude to an abstract kinetic construct.

A young woman stepped out the backdoor, red plastic bucket in hand, her golden hair cascading to her waist. She stopped a few feet from the steps, reached into the bucket and began scattering birdseed on the lawn. Songbirds converged on her, settling at her feet, tugging at strands of her hair, completely oblivious that a predator stalked out of the woods.

Kasha's stomach growled at the banquet before him, but pouncing on the young lady's breakfast guests to devour them would have been a dreadful first impression.

"Good morning, miss!" he called out when he reached polite hailing distance. "I wonder if I might trouble you for a few moments."

She turned his way, cornflower blue eyes widening. For one heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he had erred.

"Oh, what a
cute
kitty!" she cried out as she placed her bucket down and rushed toward him. "Oh, my God, I just love your boots! Aren't you just the most adorable thing ever!"

To his horror, he found himself scooped up and hugged tight. "Miss, please!"

"You're even cuter than the kitty in that movie, the one Antonio Banderas voiced. And I just
love
Antonio." She rubbed his whiskers with her cheek, not entirely unpleasant but terribly undignified.

"Morgen!" A sharp voice cut through the young woman's gushing. "Come away from there! Put it down and get away, now!"

The second voice belonged to a handsome, middle-aged woman with sharp gray eyes and midnight hair. Her tone was commanding, but fear edged it.

"Mom! It's not like he's dirty. You're embarrassing me."

"Don't be stupid, Morgen. Don't you know what that is?" The matronly woman glared at Kasha. "Who have you come for, demon? You can't have my daughter."

The girl squeaked and dropped him abruptly. "Demon?"

"It's a kasha demon, child. Come over here." The woman raised a hand against him, tracing what he recognized as a warding.

Kasha sighed as he stood, brushing dust from his fur. "Madame, I assure you, I have not--"

"Ettie, stop that!" A third woman emerged from the house, white hair caught in a neat braid down her back, her progress slow and deliberate on the steps. "Great Mother, you girls have no sense. If the kasha has come for anyone, it's me. Don't be rude."

She stopped and leaned on her cane, her winter-pale eyes raking Kasha up and down. "But you haven't, have you? You're wearing boots."

On the surface, the statement seemed absurdly obvious. It was a sign, though, that she knew precisely what he was. He removed his hat and swept her a bow. "Yes, ma'am. I am indeed wearing boots."