A Little Bite of Magic Goes a Long Way (BxB)

19 ~ Matt

"What's going on out here?" I called, stepping outside to see what all the shouting was about. "Ben?"

I'd woken up on the couch alone, and felt a pang of disappointment that Volkir had not at least stayed for breakfast.

My breakfast, that is.

As for him, while I hoped he'd enjoyed our shared experience and would want to share it again, I also felt the side-effects of losing a considerable quantity of blood. I was off the menu for the time-being—a week or so, at least.

Rising, I shivered in the chill of the morning air and wrapped myself in the thin blanket I'd found draped over me. There was no sign of the cat.

I'd just started to wonder if the cat-djinn would be offended if I asked Valerie for some of Pickles' food until I figured out what it liked, when the sound of shouting reached me from outside.

Wondering if Valerie had finally noticed that Mr. Park, who lived a few houses down, had replaced his leaky old mailbox with a shiny (and very modern-looking) new one, I'd gone downstairs and opened the door.

Instead of Valerie, though, I saw that the source of the shouting was Ben, and that he was aiming a very Van Helsing-esque look at Volkir. The two of them were below me, standing on the lawn, and as I glanced from one to the other it was clear that Ben was getting all kinds of wrong ideas.

"Oh no, Ben—it's not what you think," I said quickly, taking a step in his direction. "He just bit me, that's all."

"That's all!?" Ben shrieked.

He gets a bit screechy when he's stressed, and I winced as his voice carried up and down the street. It was still very early.

I tried to explain, but while Ben gets screechy, I become mildly incoherent—or so I'm told—and Ben continued to spiral. I'd just mentioned the cat when Volkir's expression shifted from something like boredom to alarm.

"Matthew! Behind you!" he cried and started towards me, but at the same moment, something very large and strong grabbed me from behind and yanked me backward so hard I was lifted off my feet.

The door slammed shut as soon as I was through it, and then whatever had me dragged me up two flights of stairs, down the hall, and into the spare bedroom so fast it made me dizzy. That, and the fact that I was low on blood.

As abruptly as it had seized me, the thing let me go, and I fell to my hands and knees on the old rug that covered the floor—the one that I could never seem to get the dust out of no matter how often I vacuumed it. Maybe it was a cursed rug, I thought, as I involuntarily studied the pattern swirling in front of my eyes. Cursed to be a dusty rug.

I don't think enough blood was getting to my brain.

Giving in to the dizziness, I collapsed and then rolled onto my back to take a look at whatever had decided to interrupt the morning's drama.

"Oh, it's you!" I said, staring up at a swirling mass of black, smoke-like mist and a pair of glowing red eyes. "I wondered where you'd gone."

Even as I spoke, the writhing cloud coalesced into the shape of a hulking man, as tall as the room and with arms thicker than my torso. His lower half remained an insubstantial, smoky mess.

His body was the same black-gray color as the smoke, and his eyes remained as red as glowing coals. He didn't seem to have any hair that I could see, and his features were regal and severe, like an ancient warlord or a prince.

As I stared up at him from the floor, he gazed down at me without speaking. Since he seemed to have finished dragging me about, I lifted myself and sat up, wobbling a little as the room finally stopped spinning.