The Glass Prince (3 page)

The
website
said what Eren
was going through wasn't good. Daniel should, according to the
information given, call 911 and request an ambulance.

Daniel
shrugged—the website was exaggerating
, and if he were to let someone take Eren, he'd
never see him again. He grabbed his cell phone and activated a
small light at the bottom to act as a pen light, and walked over to
Eren to check his eyes as advised. He got on the bed and straddled
Eren. Then he pried each eye open and checked the dilation: they
seemed normal if the pictures were to go by, but he had to be sure.
He had to wake him up—but—Daniel frowned—how?

Eren
was going
to protest and fight. Daniel knew it. There had to be something to
stop Eren from reacting too violently. Daniel slid off the bed,
walked out, then stopped as he realised he was still in his
underclothes. He returned to his bedroom and pulled open his closet
and selected clothes to wear. He should shower. He always showered
after he left the confines of the Tower. And he had been in contact
with vomit and other bodily fluids. How unlike him to have
forgotten all about it.

Daniel
knew
Eren was a
priority. He walked to the sitting room and parted the glass of the
cabinet which was, even by his standards, well-guarded. Only his
magic could open it. Inside it was a collection of vials and
potions he'd confiscated from his guests at his restaurant. Things
people brought to be added to the food so they could discredit him
or so they could take advantage of their dining partners. The
thought gave Daniel pause, but he shook his head. What he'd done to
Eren was completely accidental, nothing like the pre-planned
nefarious activities of others. It was amazing as to just how low
people would stoop. Even when they were in as fine an establishment
as the Alaskan Tower.

Daniel
pulled out a small red vial and nodded
. It had belonged to a determined young lady who
had been convinced the love of her life was cheating on her. She'd
intended to slip it into his drink so he could confess.

But
Daniel had intervened and taken it off her—he
'd first assumed it was poison, but when
he'd discovered what it was, he'd kept it away from her, anyway. It
tasted terrible, and the aged wine she had been about slip it into
would have tasted stale afterwards.

Daniel
walked back to the room and tipped the vial
into Eren's open mouth. Eren swallowed
convulsively and Daniel sat back, satisfied.

"
Eren?" he said
softly. "You awake?"

"
I'm fine," Eren
mumbled. "Head hurts."

"
You'll be
fine," he said wondering if the potion would counteract the calming
spray or just add to it. "You have a concussion."

"
Ok," Eren told
him.

"
The sleepiness
can be explained away by the calming potion, but the
vomiting—"

"
Blood in my
mouth when you broke my nose."

"
Your nose isn't
broken," Daniel told him.

"
Taste of blood
always makes me throw up."

"
Well, then,"
said Daniel, sitting back in bed. "Go to sleep, relax, make
yourself at home."

While
Eren
slipped back into sleep, Daniel showered, changed, and cooked
ravioli for two. He carried the dinner to his bedroom and decided
Eren could eat later, but decided to sit and eat while keeping an
eye on his guest just in case there were further complications.
Apart from Lucian, he hardly ever ate with anyone else. There were
the uncomfortable family meals, but he'd much rather forget about
those.

His
once-every-two-months visit to his parents was a
barely-tolerated event where everyone hovered around uncomfortably
until the hour was up, and he would walk out the front door, glad
to be free for another sixty days. Daniel never ate much in the
presence of his parents, who cringed every time he lifted a gloved
hand, though he supposed it was high time his parents got used to
his magic. It'd been close to twenty years since the
accident.

As for
his siblings,
it was
better to not think of them while eating.

Daniel
ate quietly, balancing his plate on his knees
. He cut his food neatly into small bites,
and ate everything on his plate while he sat on the edge of the
bed, watching.

He
wasn
't going to let Eren
go. The idea came to him slowly and it wasn't as absurd as it
sounded. He would hide Eren and that was it. Not forever, perhaps a
week or so until he got fed up, then let him go. Daniel even had
the perfect memory-erase potion in his collection
somewhere.

First
though,
Daniel needed to make sure things were in order. He started by
sealing the bedroom. The windows and the door were made soundproof
with a double-glass creation. He then formed a complete glass wall
around the bedroom. Only he would be able to open the glass. He
toyed with the idea of removing the bedroom wall and replacing it
with one-way glass so he could always watch Eren, but dismissed the
idea as too farfetched. He sealed the closet door that opened to
the bedroom and created a door at the back of his closet, so it
opened to his kitchen. It helped that the back wall was also glass,
and therefore, under his control. He had a guest bathroom in the
sitting room—he could use that. Eren could use the attached master
bathroom and the bedroom.

It
wasn
't as if Daniel
needed the bedroom—he could catch a nap on his sofa, which was just
as comfortable.

He
wanted to keep
Eren with
himself for a few days, not trap him like an animal on
display.

Daniel
then made a series of calls, to his restaurant manager to let
Daniel know if somet
hing
came up, that he would be on this floor for the time being. He
ordered food to be sent up the next day. He had an idea he'd be too
busy to cook, and anyway, it gave him a chance to test his cooks.
It wasn't unheard of that Daniel sometimes locked himself on his
floor for days, creating glass sculptures that made people gasp on
sight.

Next
, he called
his cleaning service and told them that his bedroom was out of
bounds. The cleaning service knew not to ask questions and knew
better than to go where they were not invited. If they saw the
second glass wall around his bedroom, they'd assume he was doing
some glass experiment there and would not go near it.

Finally,
he
called his tailor and ordered a new suit for the one he disposed of
and some extra clothes for Eren in what he thought were the correct
measurements. Eren didn't seem the three-piece-suit type, so Daniel
ordered some casual slacks and shirts for him.

Daniel
looked
around, pleased. He was ready to keep Eren with him—for a week, or
maybe a couple of days longer.

Daniel
knew
Eren wouldn't be
too happy with the idea of being with him. He'd probably regret
running into Daniel at all.

Three weeks
ago

Daniel
met
Eren by accident and
it changed his entire life.

"
What's with all
these invitations?" Lucian Wolfe grinned as he picked up the black,
embossed card off the side table. There was a pile of them on top,
ornate and scented, some with a hint of magic—and when Lucian
touched them, the cards spilled over the table. Black-winged
butterflies floated down to the white carpet.

"
I don't know
how they got there," Daniel said as he brushed them aside with his
foot. A magical butterfly fluttered a little, then stilled as the
magic ran out. He stared at his pristine carpet, remembered
spilling wine over the previous night and snapped his fingers. "Ah,
these must be the ones I keep throwing away behind the drinks
cabinet. The cleaning crew was here this morning. They must have
fished them out while changing the carpet and stacked them for me
to see."

"
I don't
remember getting this many at my office," Lucian commented as he
flicked the card in his hand away. "It's to some charity foundation
dinner—you could go."

Daniel
shrugged and grinned
.
"Tisuki probably handles your invitations better than you do." He
pointed out. "Plus, you have an entire department devoted to
sorting out your mail."

"
True," Lucian
nodded. "So, how about a game of mah-jongg?"

And it
had been the end of that conversation
. Though visibly distracted by something, Lucian
played a good game and they called it a draw a little after
midnight. As Daniel was walking his childhood friend to the door,
Lucian looked over his shoulder at the stack of invitations and
nodded.

"
You know, you
might as well go to one of those things. Doesn't hurt for you to go
out and meet some new people."

"
You're starting
to sound like my mother," Daniel scowled. "I see new people all the
time."

"
Watching your
guests through hidden cameras doesn't count," Lucian told him as he
entered the hallway outside the penthouse.

"
I'll see you
next Tuesday." It wasn't a question and Daniel was really surprised
by his actions. He actually wanted to play mah-jongg and sit in
silence with Lucian.

"
Sure," said
Lucian and walked off with a wave of his hand. After all, they'd
being meeting up on Tuesday afternoons for as long as they could
remember.

Daniel
walked back into his apartment and tried to relax as he looked at
his empty sitting room
.
It was late at night, but he didn't need sleep. He rarely slept,
since his magic maintained his body, and he needed little rest. He
missed sleep sometimes: the childhood enjoyment he'd felt at the
thought of going to bed when tired. Though now, it was a faded
memory, like the rest of his happy memories. He missed dreams, even
silly nightmares. He didn't dream much, and when he did now, they
were only chaotic spirals of colour that left him
confused.

Daniel
walked up
to the glass-paned wall that overlooked the city and looked down at
the lights below, at the traffic on the roads rushing towards
wherever, and was glad his city never slept. He slowly placed his
hand on his chest and closed his eyes, waiting, listening, knowing
his heart was beating in its glass confines, safe from damage, but
he couldn't feel it. "I might as well be dead," he spoke aloud and
was startled into opening his eyes by the sound of his own
voice.

Daniel
smiled at
his own morbid thoughts and watched the faint reflection smile back
at him. His smile looked stilted and unnatural. He turned away
abruptly. It was ironic that he, as the Glass Wizard of Alaskan
Tower, had no mirrors in his living quarters. He knew what he
looked like, and that was all he cared about.

"
At least I
don't scare little children with my looks," he spoke and shook his
head. He had taken to talking to himself more and more, which he
knew was a sign of something. He just couldn't figure out
what.

"
All right, I'll
stop talking to myself as soon as there's nothing interesting to
say." He snorted at his own stupidity and flung himself onto his
sofa, knocking over a couple of mah-jongg pieces. Daniel pulled off
the gloves he'd worn in Lucian's presence—it wouldn't do to
accidentally touch his childhood friend and kill him—and flexed his
fingers.

He
tossed his
gloves over the back of the sofa and let his hands flop down. They
landed on something different from what he was expecting. Curious,
he turned his head to look. It was the invitation that Lucian had
been toying with, a black, rather plain-looking one, dated the next
day.

Intrigued
,
Daniel sat up and pulled it closer to him. It was an invitation to
the opening of the local mall's food court. It didn't even name him
as the guest of honour: it was just an invitation and his name had
been stencilled in rather badly in the small space, given as Daniel
Ever-Wood. His last name was one word, not hyphenated. He turned to
throw it away. No one expected him to show up, what was the use of
sending him all the invitations in the first place?

Then he
was struck by an inspiration
. What if he were to go there and surprise
everyone?

It was
a
well-known fact Daniel
Everwood did not do public appearances. He didn't do charity
dinners, though he sometimes contributed—it was a good tax
write-off—and he certainly did not attend any of those important
public gatherings. The only time he ever went anywhere was to the
Mage Guild meeting with Lucian and it was only so he could show all
those stuck-up asses he was still alive and kicking up glass. It
really wasn't a guild. It was more like a place where overly rich
mages got together to show off their wealth to each other and the
media. They also showed off how well they'd aged, or not aged,
depending on the occasion, and did flashy magic tricks while trying
to appear overly casual about the extent of their magic by uttering
phrases like, "What, fly to work? I do it every day."