Boots

BOOTS by ANGEL MARTINEZ Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

Boots An Amber Quill Press Book This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com http://www.AmberHeat.com http://www.AmberAllure.com

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2011 by Angel Martinez ISBN 978-1-61124-097-9 Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber Published in the United States of America

Also by Angel Martinez A Different Breed

Dedication For my Oma-- though she might be many years gone, her reading of Der gestiefelte Kater stays with me. For me, Puss will always be a gorgeous black cat.

Once upon a time in the little town of Honeybole, Pennsylvania, there lived a brewer and his three sons. It came to pass that the brewer fell ill and died, leaving his sons to divide his estate according to his wishes...

Chapter 1: Will "The cat?" Willem sputtered. "That's what he left me?" "Settle down, Will." Gunther pursed his lips and pointed to the stool beside his desk. "Yes, and three hundred dollars. Wasn't much to divide between us." "But he left you the whole brewery!" Willem flung his arms in the air. Dear old Dad's parting shot from the grave. "And at least he left Kurt the truck!" "What would you do with a truck and no license?" Kurt drawled from where he leaned in the doorway. "Could've sold it!" Gunther ran a hand back through his hair. "Will, it's not like I'd kick you out on the street. You're welcome to stay with Linda and me as long as you need. You can always work on the line, or the loading dock." He glanced up at Willem, his eyes tired. "It's not like Dad left me a lot either. A floundering brewery and a hell of a lot of debt." Shame flushed Willem's face. "I'm sorry, Gun. I know." Five years, it had been five years since he had spoken to their father, and then it had been a shouting match about Willem being a "sissy fag." When his father had called him the week before, it had been a surprise. He couldn't get hold of Gunther, and Kurt was out of town, he said. Someone needed to help him get to the hospital. The shock of seeing

his strong, blustering father gaunt and unsteady had shaken Willem to the core. In the ambulance he thought they had mended fences, and now this. "I appreciate the offer." Willem blew out a slow breath. "But I can't mooch off you. And working at the brewery would be too much like charity." "It's not charity, Will. We're family." "Hate to break up this love fest, but I'm out. Have to get back to Pittsburgh tonight." Kurt pushed off from the wall and gave them an unenthusiastic wave. "Later, bros. Have fun with your cat, Will." Gunther snorted when he walked out of sight. "Such a warm, caring person." "Yeah, well, Dad made us all what we are," Willem muttered. A long hesitation hung between them. "Did he make you gay, Will?" Gunther asked softly. From anyone else, the question would have made him furious, but Gunther, solid, backwater Gunther, really wanted to know. "No, Gun. Either you are or you aren't. Dad made me crazy, but he didn't make me gay." Gunther nodded, tapping a pencil on the desk. "So what're you going to do? No job, no place to stay. Will, I worry about you." "I'll manage." Jaw tight, the backs of his eyes burning, Willem had no idea how.

Three months prior, he'd had a good job as a welder at the auto plant, a live-in boyfriend, and a decent apartment. Now the plant had shut down, aforementioned boyfriend had ditched him for some damn hairstylist, and cheating boyfriend and said hairstylist now inhabited the apartment. The drunken binge after finding Joey in bed with his new lover had been the final blow. He didn't recall driving drunk, but since that night had cost him his license, he must have. Not such a terrible thing, since the week after, the bank had repossessed his car. Joey... He wished he could recall good moments. There had been happy times, when they had fun together, when it felt like Joey loved him. The only image that would come, the one seared into his brain, was Joey on his knees, head and shoulders on the mattress, ass in the air, crying out while hair-boy pounded into him with wild abandon. God. How long had it been going on, right in his own bed? He heaved a sigh and glanced down at the black tomcat sleeping on his cushion in the corner of the office. "It was a good joke. About the cat. But I can't take poor Puss out of here. He's comfortable where he is." "Don't mind keeping him for you," Gunther said. "He keeps the mice from the grain. You just let me know if you ever want him." "Thanks, Gun." He rose and shook his brother's hand. "Really. I know it's--" He broke off when something butted against his legs. Puss wound his way around Willem's legs,

purring. Gunther chuckled. "He doesn't want you to go." "You stay with, Gun, Puss." Willem reached down to scratch the tom behind his ears. "Stay here where you've got your food dish and your pillow." Puss looked up at him with bright green eyes and mewed. Willem hoped that was agreement. He had walked out onto the street, long strides eating up half a block in no time, before he stumbled on something and nearly fell. The damn cat had run right between his feet. "Go home, Puss." Puss just stared at him with those shining, enigmatic eyes. Not like you can tell a cat where to go. When he started walking again, Puss padded right beside him. Willem went on to the memorial park in the center of town and sat on one of the creaky benches with the fewest slats missing. He pulled his jacket closer against the late autumn chill, set his backpack by his feet, and tried to jumpstart his tired brain. What was there really left to do? Here he was, in a town where the recession had begun long before Dubya had taken office. The coal companies, having ripped the hearts from the hills and left their mess behind, had long moved on. The last factories had shut down. Half the stores on Market Street were empty or boarded up. He had no prospects, no transportation, just enough money to get him in trouble, and no dreams that hadn't died. What was the point-"Are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself all

night?" Willem looked around to find the velvet smooth voice. "What? Who said that?" "Down here, nitwit." But there was no one, just Puss sitting beside him on the bench with his thick, black tail twitching. "Where?" "For Raiju's sake, Willem, open your eyes." They were open all right, but that didn't guarantee his sanity. He could have sworn the damn cat had spoken. "Puss?" "Yes. And while I have your attention, what sort of stupid name is Puss, anyway? Couldn't you and your halfwit brothers have come up with something slightly more imaginative? You may as well have called me Cat." "Um... " "Close your mouth. You waste precious heat that way." Willem snapped his mouth shut. Wonderful. I've been

under so much stress I'm losing my marbles. "I've shocked you. Can't be helped." Puss butted his head against Willem's arm. "I don't normally speak to regular, garden-variety humans, but you need some serious help getting your head pulled out of your ass." "Did you... are you... " Words no longer seemed adequate for all the things he wanted to ask. In a strangled squeak, he forced out, "Have you always talked?" "That, my dear Willem, would imply I've been talking

nonstop for a number of years. I think you meant to ask, 'could you always talk?'" "But... did you talk to Dad?" "Toward the end, yes. I tried to help. Your pater was stubborn, though. Convinced I was part of the disease process." Puss lifted a white-socked paw to clean, his pink tongue rasping against his fur. "Why didn't you ever talk to me?" A little ball of hurt lodged in Willem's gut. The old tom had been around for as long as he could recall. He would have given almost anything as a lonely, miserable child to have had someone to talk to. "You never asked." "Oh." Willem batted this around his tired brain a moment. "What do you want me to call you?" Puss lifted a shoulder in what could only be a shrug. "I suppose you could call me Kasha." "Isn't that a cereal?" "No, you ignorant hick." Puss... Kasha snorted. "Now, focus. It's getting cold out here. Where have you been sleeping?" "I was sleeping on a friend's couch." Willem shivered, still staring at his cat. He supposed if he had to hallucinate, at least it was a sensible one. "But her sister's coming for a long visit and she asked me, nicely, to get out." "So your intention was to freeze to death on a park bench." "Yeah... I mean, no! I didn't, that's... " he trailed off, at a

loss. The huge lump in his throat wasn't helping. "Willem, my boy." Kasha patted his thigh with a paw. "These situations are rarely as hopeless as they first appear. Turn off the bitter emotions. Keep your head. There are always opportunities. Are all your necessities in that bag?" Willem stared down at his backpack and nodded. "Yeah. I... didn't keep much. The rest is in storage." Kasha jumped down from the bench and tugged at Willem's jeans with his claws. "Come. We're going for a walk. I know a place." **** Two hours later, Willem swayed on his feet, teeth clenched against his shivers. They stood in front of a dark hunting cabin, nestled in the hills outside of town. "We can't just go in. It doesn't belong to us." "He's gone until next year," Kasha said with a push at Willem's legs. "We won't do any harm and you need somewhere warm and dry. Rain's on the way." Willem glanced up at the cloudless sky. "It's probably locked. I'm not breaking in." Kasha let out a little growl, apparently growing short on patience. "The key's underneath the stone turtle by the door." Sure enough, it was. "How do you know all this?" "I visit sometimes. The hunters give me deer entrails, still warm from the kill." "Sorry I asked." Exhausted and out of options now that the sun had set,

Willem unlocked the door with his heart slamming against his ribs. No vehicles sat beside the cabin. No lights shone inside. Still, someone might come. "I'm going to bite you if you don't go inside." Evening blanketed the interior, but enough light remained to make out a table and two wooden chairs, a cot by the wall, a kerosene heater, and a gray stone fireplace. "Okay, I'll be there in a minute. Just need to get some wood." He was about to stoop to squatting on someone else's property, but he'd be damned if he was going to steal the man's kerosene as well. "Suit yourself." Kasha sat on the cot, tail curled around his feet, eyes closed, while Willem schlepped logs and branches in from the woodpile. Though his hands shook from cold and exhaustion, he managed to get a respectable fire going. The cheerful snap and crackle lifted a thin layer of shadow from his heart and Kasha, now that the hearth was warm, padded over to join him. "Are you hungry?" Willem dug in his backpack. "I have a tin of sardines in here somewhere we could share." "You always were a thoughtful boy," Kasha said as he curled up beside Willem's thigh, his front paws tucked under his body. His ears pricked forward at a delicate metallic clatter against the stones as Willem rifled through his pack. "What would that be?" Willem peered over his leg and picked up the little wire

and scrap metal sandhill crane. "Oh, that. Nothing." "If it's nothing, you wouldn't keep it. Did someone give it to you?" "No." Heat crept up his face. Why he felt embarrassed in front of a cat, he couldn't imagine, especially a cat he had known all his life. "I, um, made it." "Did you now? Huh." Kasha rubbed his head against Willem's knee. "I believe you said something about sardines." "Right. Sorry." Willem turned the key to open the can, the sudden, sharp fishy scent mingling with wood smoke in an oddly comforting way. Warmth and food, I suppose. His hands still shook as he divided the contents in half and placed Kasha's portion in front of him on the lid. Feline eyes stared up at him. "Are you ill?" "No. I mean, I don't think so." He wolfed down his sardines; barely enough to fool his stomach into thinking it had been fed. With his arms wrapped around his ribs, he scooted closer to the fire. "Just can't get warm." Kasha rose with a languid stretch and a sharp-toothed yawn. He trotted over to a cabinet by the cot and hooked a claw under the door's bottom corner to pop it open. With his teeth, he snagged a wool blanket and pulled it out, the cloth unfolding behind him to three times his length as he dragged it across the floor to Willem. When he tried to repeat the process with the down comforter from the cot, Willem finally snapped out of his shocked stupor.

"Hey, um, maybe we should just sleep on the cot." "Warmer by the fire," Kasha muttered with his teeth still closed on the comforter. Can't argue that. Willem rose on shaking legs and made them a nest of blankets on the hearth. He curled up with Kasha snuggled in his arms, the gradual spread of warmth calming his jangled nerves. His father was dead and he wasn't certain how he was supposed to feel. Numb, definitely, numb. It was all so inconceivable, that Horst Aufderheide, larger than life, never satisfied, never-still Horst, could be gone. Not that he had ever been close to his father. His contempt for Willem's "doodling," his constant irritation about his lack of "drive" and "initiative" had built a Kinzua Dam-sized wall between them. Kasha began to purr, soothing vibrations rippling through his chest. "Go to sleep, Willem. You need to rest." Between fire crackle and purr, Willem drifted off.

Chapter 2: The Kasha Poor, unhappy boy, what are we to do with you? Kasha sat by the glowing embers, watching Willem sleep. Trouble was, the boy was no boy any longer. He had grown tall and strong, with deliciously long legs and shoulders broad enough to sleep on. The face that had been elfin in childhood had transformed into even-featured angelic beauty, full, soft lips and all. The kasha had wondered, twenty years ago, why the spirits had directed him to Horst's household. The man didn't seem to need help, nor would he have accepted any. His wife had died after the birth of their third son, but he had coped well enough. The boys grew up flawed, but not too much more than other humans. Gunther lacked imagination, content with a small, provincial life. Kurt grew up cool and distant, not an evil man, but insular and self-absorbed. Then there was Willem, the dreamer, the wool-gatherer, though he had seemed settled as a welder, stable and secure. When Willem's life had disintegrated around his ears, that's when the kasha understood. Not for Horst, this little jaunt so far from home, not for the oldest son, as it had been so often in the past, but for the youngest. He was here to help Willem. As he blinked luminous green eyes at the lovely creature sleeping on the hearth, he

realized he might enjoy the task for once. **** Rain fell, regiments of water soldiers drumming doubletime on the roof. Willem thought the downpour had woken him until he felt the soft breath against his throat. Oh, damn... Someone lay in his arms. Had he been drinking again? He didn't think so, but things were fuzzy. He couldn't recall where he was until he blinked the fireplace into focus, the flames burned down to embers. He pulled back in confusion and his breath hitched hard. His arms were wrapped around the most beautiful young man he had ever seen. Thick, black hair tumbled to his shoulders. Almond-shaped emerald eyes gazed out of a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a slender, elegant nose. Willem moved his hand along the young man's back, feeling only the silken slide of naked skin. He must have been drinking, to forget this gorgeous boy. "Who are you?" he whispered. "Hush, Willem," the lovely vision murmured in a throaty baritone. "Go back to sleep." He leaned in and brushed his lips over Willem's. "Sleep." The command seemed reasonable and impossible to disobey, in any case. Willem's eyelids drooped as if weighted with stones. His last bit of awareness was of the stranger snuggling closer, resting his head on Willem's shoulder. For some reason, he found it comforting rather than odd. His last waking thought was that Kasha had been

right about the rain. **** "Wake up, dear boy, I have breakfast." Fingers of gray light filtered through the cabin's window. Willem woke to stiff muscles and the smell of... what the hell

is that? He sat up with a groan to find Kasha sitting beside him, with look-what-I-just-did smugness. At his feet lay a walleyed bass, nearly as long as the tomcat. "Whoa. How did you... I mean, it's too big for you." Kasha made a sound between a sneeze and a growl. "You're welcome, I'm sure." The bass stared up at him with its strange, milky eye. He half expected the fish to start talking as well, but that was ridiculous, of course. Dead fish don't talk.

Neither do cats. "Um... I guess I'll cook it for us?" "You do whatever you like with your portion." Kasha turned half away to clean his front paws. "Just give me the head and I'll be happy." Did I offend him? Do cats get offended? "Thank you. For the fish. I'm not awake yet. Had the strangest dream." "Oh, yes?" "There was this boy. Really hot. He was... " Heat climbed Willem's face. "Never mind." "No need to be embarrassed. You obviously haven't had a good fuck in some time."

Somehow hearing the word out of a cat's mouth embarrassed him more than discussing a naked-hot-boy dream. He shoved all the strangeness of the past day into the back of his mind to concentrate on the practical concerns of preparing fish. The cabin had a good set of knives, from which he selected a scaler and a heavy chef's knife. Once he'd hacked off the head and handed it to Kasha as promised, he fell easily into the task made familiar by so many summers spent fishing with his brothers. Off with fins, tail, and scales, hook in near the tail, slice it open, and clean out the guts. While he had never been good at catching fish, the cleaning had a meditative rhythm to it, good for getting lost in his thoughts. Kasha didn't speak again until he had a fire going, the fish cooking on an improvised spit. "I have some things to see to today. While I'm gone, I have a task for you." "A... what?" "Task, Willem. Something I require you to do," Kasha went on, apparently unperturbed by his confusion. "I need a good pair of boots. Perhaps a nice, wide-brimmed hat as well. A well-tailored jacket would be asking too much, I suppose. But most important are the boots. I need you to purchase a pair for me." "Boots." "Yes, as in were made for walking. A pair of Luccheses would be ideal, but I'll settle for Ariats, or anything well made.

I suppose--" "Why would a cat need boots?" Willem blurted out. Kasha sighed in a most un-feline way and then did something else unexpected. He stood. This wasn't in the way a cat will get up on its hind legs for a moment to take a look at what's on the table or to gauge a leap. No, this was standing as if he were normally bipedal and walking on two feet was the most natural thing for him. Willem felt as if a giant vacuum had sucked all the air from the room. He stared, fighting his frozen lungs for a breath, and finally forced out, "You're not a cat, are you?" "Of course I'm a cat, you twit," Kasha snapped. "What do I look like, a turnip?" "You're... " Willem gulped a breath as he tried to calm his slamming heart. Really, what did one more thing matter? He'd already conceded the loss of his sanity when the cat started talking. Nothing should surprise him, then. Fairy dust, winged horses, magic beanstalks, he should expect to see just about anything now. "You're not just a cat." Kasha gave him a slow, unreadable blink. "Correct. Not just." He dropped back down to all fours. "I am your friend, though, Willem. I want to help you. Do you understand that?" "Yes." He found he meant it. If Kasha was a hallucination, he was a beneficial one. If he truly was some sort of... something, otherworldly being, magical creature, he had always been Willem's friend. "Good. Then finish your breakfast and go down into town

to get me some boots." "What, um, size?" "The smallest you can find, dear boy. I don't have very large feet."

No, and they're not the right shape for human boots. "Okay. But you still didn't answer my first question." Fish head held between his front paws, Kasha ignored him and attacked his breakfast. Finally, after picking the skull clean, he tipped his head to one side and asked, "What is it you want most? If you had no need to worry about money or what others thought, what would you do?" Willem shrugged. "Don't know. Go to college, maybe." "And what attraction does higher learning hold?" "See, I--" He broke off, shaking his head. "It's stupid. And just not practical." "That's your father talking." Kasha rolled onto his back, thick tail thumping the hearthstones. "Never mind practical. Tell me your most outlandish, outrageous dreams." Willem cracked a little smile. His most outrageous dreams, the ones with gorgeous male bodies and various edible items such as garden tubs full of whipped cream, weren't ones he would share with a cat, even one who wasn't just a cat. He peeled off a bit of fish to test if it was done, forcing his brain back to the question. "I wanted to go to art school, maybe in Philly or Pittsburgh or Carlisle. But it would have been a waste of money. I mean, you pony up all that cash, and then you're left without a steady income when you

graduate, probably strapped with loan payments, too." Kasha batted at his shoelace, then captured it to chew on the end. "So the purpose of this outpouring of funds would have been to create, to become an artist." "Yeah. Stupid, huh?" "Terribly," Kasha said in a dry tone. "Are you so beaten down, Willem, that you no longer see the sky?" "What's that supposed to mean?" He pulled the shoelace away gently. "Stop that. I don't have a spare." "Do the few things I ask of you. Trust me for but a short while. I am, after all, a magic cat. I'm going to change your life, my boy." "With a pair of boots." "Yes."

Well, what the hell? Not as if three hundred bucks would last me all that long, anyway. And if I've lost my mind, might as well go the whole way to Crazytown. "I'll see what I can find." "Good boy. Now, I must be off. I'll meet you back here this afternoon." Kasha padded to the door, stood on his hind legs, and turned the knob to open it as a person would. A shiver climbed Willem's spine on spider feet. Magic. Did that mean magic in the benign, stories-for-kids sense? Or was Kasha something far more sinister? The word "demon" came to mind. Shouldn't he feel some sense of menace, then? He sifted back through memories of Kasha to see if there

were any frightening ones. A scary hiss once or twice, but that was just him being a cat. No, most of the time he had just been Puss, comfortable, affectionate, and tending toward lazy. He had slept on his cushion at the brewery, prowled among the sacks of barley, and sprawled on Willem's lap in a purring, contented heap. Any lingering anxious shadows cleared as he stepped from the cabin into the sunlight. The autumn rain had left halffrozen jewels on every twig and fire-hued leaf in sight, the woods decked out in society party splendor. Things had gone wrong, sure, but the world was still beautiful and evil supernatural things only existed in frightened human minds. He squared his shoulders and strode down the hill toward town. **** Kasha sat on the bureau by the window in Willem's old apartment, watching the entwined figures on the bed. Lazy

slugs. Willem would never sleep this late. The smaller boy, Joey, slept on his back, mouth open, hand cupping his balls. It wasn't a good look for him. Kasha had seen him with Willem before, though, and had never been impressed. Something in his restless, shifting eyes kept him from being a handsome young man. If once, just once, he had gazed at Willem with adoration rather than calculation, Kasha might have reconsidered what he was about to do. The taller boy, the one he didn't know, stirred first. He had

no quarrel with that one, except that he had been instrumental in causing Willem's pain. Any collateral damage would be little cause for regret. The tall boy yawned and rolled over to slide a hand across Joey's bare stomach. He startled when he spotted Kasha. "Fuck. That's one big-ass cat." He nudged Joey's side. "You didn't tell me you had a cat, babe." "Cat? Wha--" Joey rubbed a palm over his face, one eye opening far enough to show the bloodshot evidence of heavy excess. "Don't have a fucking cat." Prim and proper with his tail curled around his feet, Kasha did his best to give off a non-threatening air. While the slugs untangled from sheets and each other, though, he began to weave. Some spellcrafters saw magic as flowing streams to direct; for others it came in flecks and motes to puzzle together. For Kasha, magic was the complex pattern of threads that ran through all things, the very fabric of reality. He pulled threads to him from Willem's ex-lover, from the street outside, from the woods outside of town. A bright green thread of poison ivy, a dark skein of spite, a brown, chitinous thread of bedbug, a vibrant thread of scarlet from Willem himself, and Kasha's own rainbow hues wove over and under into the pattern he desired. It was an inelegant thing with the feel of a rag rug, unsecured ends and all, but the spell wasn't meant to endure or accomplish anything elaborate. He sent it into Joey's underwear drawer.

"How'd the damn cat get in here?" Joey muttered as he opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of powder blue bikini briefs. Kasha wrinkled his nose in disgust. The room stank of stale sweat and sex, and the boy wasn't even going to clean himself before he dressed? He truly deserved what he was about to receive. The new lover at least staggered to the shower first. During his search over the floor for clothes, Joey began to scratch absently at his balls and his stomach. By the time his lover emerged from the shower, smelling a good deal better, Joey's scratching had become persistent. "What's the matter, babe? Got crabs?" "Shut up, Leo." Joey's scratching became frantic. "Those new briefs? Did you wash them first?" "No, dammit, I didn't. They came packaged. Why would I wash them?" Leo stopped toweling himself dry, watching Joey with a wary expression. "'Cause they use like, bug spray on imported stuff. Can play hell with your skin sometimes. Take 'em off, babe. You're making me itch." "You just want me naked." "Yeah, well--holy fuck!" Leo's eloquent expression of disbelief leapt out when Joey pulled the briefs down to expose sunburn-red skin covered in angry, swelling blisters. Some of those had begun to ooze from Joey's scratching. The sight of those blisters on

his genitals made even Kasha wince in sympathy. "Shit, shit, shit!" Joey reached out, but his lover backed away in alarm. "Get the car, Leo! You have to get me to the doctor's. Leo?" "I don't think so, babe." Face drained of color, Leo's voice came out thin and shaking. "Who the hell have you been whoring with?" He began throwing clothes into a bag, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater as he rushed around the room. "Fuck! And I've been screwing you, you little slut. If you've given me some nasty new kind of VD, I'll--" "You'll what, Leo? Dammit, help me! I haven't touched another man! For all I know, you gave me this!" Kasha waited until Leo had stormed out of the apartment and Joey had flung himself onto the bed, swearing and whimpering. It was all he needed to see. The boy would have to figure out for himself where relief lay. A kasha could only interfere so much. He slipped out the same way he had come in, by the cracked kitchen window, and hurried down the street. Willem would not have approved, which was why he would not be telling him. **** The dry goods store stocked just about everything, even kid-sized boots. Willem scanned the assortment with amused confusion. How do you pick out boots for a cat? He had no idea what Kasha would like. A work boot? A pair of shitkickers? Dress boots? It hadn't occurred to him to ask and now, faced with too many choices, he wished he

had brought the cat along. He shook his head on a chuckle, imagining how the store employees would react to the large, crazy man in the footwear section asking his cat which boots he liked best. He rejected the ones that looked like water might ruin them right off, and then became stuck between flashy and practical. For some reason, he felt Kasha would prefer flashy, but given their current housing situation, practical made more sense. He finally compromised halfway on a pair of Ariat cowboy boots in black, tooled leather. The price was a little steep for such small boots, but he had made a promise. "For your little boy?" A middle-aged woman in a maroon dry goods employee smock gave him an encouraging smile. "No, ma'am. I don't have any kids." When she looked at him oddly, he added, "For my nephew." There, that sounded a lot less cuckoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs than "for my cat." "You must be the favorite uncle, then," she said with a laugh. "Yes, ma'am, I guess so." Willem felt his face heat. God, he hated lying about anything. It tied his insides into painful knots. He bought a little black cowboy hat to go with the boots and a few food staples to last a couple of days. Lying made him cringe, but having anyone, especially a cat he should be caring for, believe they had to provide for him made him feel about a quarter inch tall. Back out on the sidewalk, he hitched a ride out to the

self-storage facility. His unit was paid for six months out, so no need to rush finding a new place. He'd heard of desperate people living in their storage units, and if his hadn't been so pitifully small, he might have considered it. Hell, it was cheaper than apartment rent. All his furniture and household belongings stayed with Joey. He hadn't had the energy to fight him over who actually owned what, and the remainder of his worldly possessions boiled down to his clothes (not many), a few framed pictures (likewise), and his tools. Sad, really. If he died under mysterious circumstances and a forensics team searched through what he had left behind for some clue, they'd leave after five frustrated minutes. Nothing. He would leave behind nothing. He switched out dirty clothes for clean, stuffing the dirty socks and underwear in the laundry bag he kept in the unit. Probably should get to the Laundromat soon. Then in a quixotic moment driven by his conversation with Kasha that morning, he retrieved his gas-powered soldering iron, his tin snips, and the spools of solder wire. The urge to create surged up in him, as it hadn't in months. Strange how those months coincided with his relationship with Joey. He hadn't realized it before. **** The cabin's front stoop was perfect for viewing the lines of magical confluence that veined the nearby mountains. Most mountains served as points of convergence for lines of

magic force. Some, like Fuji or Mauna Kea, gathered magic to them like greedy collectors. Others, like these modest mountains surrounding the town of Honeybole, were simply natural meeting points, intersections of magical roads. While the magic had always existed here, the noise and filth of the strip mining machines had masked the lines for many years. Now, in the newfound silence, it became possible to find the paths again. Kasha knew if he could see them, so could others. Beings of power, lesser ones but still enough to be dangerous, were drawn to such places. He shivered as a cloud ran ragged fingers over the sun. Other spellcasters were here. They made no effort to hide their power, not like the old days when magical beings were modest and cautious, when humans were more aware and knew them on sight. Now, dear gods, a kasha could live without shielding for over twenty years as a brewer's cat with no one the wiser. He shuddered at what else might be out there. The sun broke through the clouds and Kasha straightened, his heart leaping. Willem rounded a bend in the path, striding up the mountain like a young Beowulf, the light sparking in his red-gold hair. Gods, but he is beautiful. If Willem had honored his request, tonight he would be able to give himself to his new heki-sama. He had wondered sometimes if his long exile might have negated the strict forms, the rules of his existence. In some ways, yes, but in Willem's arms the night before, the crushing aversion thrust

through his head like a lightning spear. He needed to be Willem's, by ritual consent, before he could offer himself. "Hi, honey, I'm home," Willem said with a hint of a smile as he approached the door. He did seem more himself today, still so sad, but steadier, perhaps. "It's about time. I've been waiting hours for you." Kasha padded in behind him when he unlocked the door. "I only have two legs, and I had some orders to fill, didn't I?" Kasha stared at the pack, tail twitching in anticipation. "And did you?" The little smile returned. "You want dinner or you want what I bought you first?" Incredible. The boy is teasing. "Curiosity may have killed the cat, but enforced patience will surely give him a stroke." Willem plunked down on the floor with his pack. Altogether too slowly and carefully, he began to pull things out. Tins of tuna, a can of beans, another of peas, a box of oatmeal all emerged one by one. "Do I have to climb in the pack myself?" Kasha snapped. "You're as bad as a kid at Christmas." Willem chuckled, but he relented and pulled a shoebox from the depths of his pack. "I hope these are okay." His large, callused hands lifted the lid to reveal a lovely pair of black boots. They had to be boots, of course, since shoes would be too difficult to keep on his feet in any convincing way, even with magical intervention, but these

were perfect. The rich scent of new leather filled his head as his eyes wandered over the patterns embossed on the surface. Just elegant enough to suit his tastes, but tough enough to escape being effeminate. "They'll do." Willem laughed. "So glad you approve. But I'm not done yet." The second box contained a black hat that Willem plopped on Kasha's head. With a bit of magic resizing, the miniature Stetson fit perfectly. "Thank you, truly. Would you put the boots on as well?" "You can't do it?" Willem's forehead creased in a puzzled frown. "I could, but it's just not done. These boots are a gift from you?" "Yes." The puzzled creases deepened. "Forgive me, Willem. Where I come from, this is the custom. It symbolizes several things, not the least of which is that you give them of your own volition." And binds me to you so long as you do not demand them back. But to tell Willem that would require more explanation than he was willing to provide at the moment. He leapt up onto the nearest chair and sat human-wise with his back legs dangling over the edge. A shaft of sunlight surrounded Willem, giving his skin a luminous quality and Kasha spotted the instant his sea-gray eyes softened in acceptance.

Despite his efforts to remain aloof and calm, anxiety and anticipation overcame him, and he began to purr. Luckily, Willem seemed to mistake the nervous reaction as encouragement and gently slid the right boot over his paw. The adjustments he made this time were to his foot and not the boot, but, oh, it felt right. It had been so long. He held his breath, readying himself, when the left boot and foot mated. Still the sudden rush of power made the room pitch and spin. Magic flowed into him, increasing his being. Soon he would be too large for the cabin, too large for the mountainside. Gods, oh, gods, it's still there, all at my

paw tips now! I am immortal! I am the demon who rides the lightning! I am... His. One look at Willem brought him back down from his magic-induced high, back into the physical body he inhabited. "Are you all right?" Some men who had claimed him had done so for selfish gains, for power and wealth. Some had done so out of lust. But Willem, sweet boy, had no idea what he had done. He was simply giving footwear to his demanding cat. "Yes. Thank you." Kasha leaped down from the chair to stand on two legs. He tried a few steps and did a slow pirouette. "So, do they suit?" "Never was big on the cowboy look, but on you, it looks

good." Willem gave a satisfied nod. "You're a very handsome cowboy. Cowcat. Cowboy-cat." "That was perhaps the clumsiest compliment I've ever received. But thank you all the same. Now, I believe you mentioned dinner?"

Chapter 3: Feline In His Bed A couple of tins of tuna and half a box of crackers later, they lounged in their blanket nest in front of a roaring fire. Kasha had placed his hat up on the table, but refused to take off his boots. If they ever had a bed again, that would have to change, but for now, Willem didn't say anything. While Kasha dozed in a warm ball next to his thigh, he dug out his tin snips and the three empty tins, two tuna, one sardine, which he had washed out in a nearby stream. Shapes formed in his mind, tiny geometries that would link together to form the whole he intended. Spatial manipulation had always been as natural for him as breathing, the one thing he did well. His father had tried to steer him toward drafting and civil engineering, but the books he had tried to read had been so dry and his high school drafting classes had lulled him to sleep. He was well into cutting tiny triangles from the tuna can, when he realized one bright green eye peered out at him from beneath Kasha's tail. "Do you mind if I watch?" Willem shrugged. "Why would I mind?" "Some men don't appreciate an audience while they create." He reached over to scratch Kasha behind his ears. "I

don't mind. Really. Gun's kids used to watch me all the time." This was why he only had one of his creations with him. Whatever he made usually went to a patient, watching child. When he had what he believed to be all the necessary pieces, he took out the soldering iron and wire and started assembling. A pair of tweezers would have made the work easier and neater, but he managed, joining each meticulously cut shape to the next. The almond-shaped pieces cut from the green portion of the sardine company logo became the eyes. The most delicate triangles cut from the tuna can became the ears. White half moons from the nutrition information box formed the little socks on the front paws. Darkness surrounded their little oasis of firelight by the time he had finished. He put down his soldering iron and rolled shoulders stiff from hunching over his work. Though Kasha had watched the whole process, he still felt shy when he presented the finished piece. "There. What do you think?" Kasha tipped his head to the side with a slow blink. "It's... me." "Yes." "Willem, I... that is, no one's ever... " "You don't like it. I'm sorry." Willem reached out to take the little metal cat away. Kasha's paw shot out to stop his hand. "No. I like it very much. I'm simply... surprised." Kasha

petted him, his velvet pads soft against Willem's skin. "Your technique is extraordinary. Quite astounding." Willem struggled to determine whether the praise was serious or if the sharp-tongued cat was poking fun. Hard to tell with cat expressions. "Oh. Okay, then." A huge yawn snuck up on him. "Bedtime, for me, at least. Don't you want to take your boots off to sleep?" "No, thank you. I'd like to keep them on, if you don't mind." **** The little metal and wire cat was exquisite. How could such large, powerful hands create something so delicate, so elegant? Kasha lay on his side, staring at the miniature sculpture after Willem had dropped off to sleep. No one had ever thought of him as anything but a tool, an instrument of fate. Certainly, no one had ever taken the time to craft a likeness of him with such loving care. If he had been able to weep, he might have. Even without tears, regret shadowed his heart. This one would be difficult to leave when the time came. Though perhaps the time they did have could ease both their loneliness. Yes. Willem needed more than a change in fate. It would cost him nothing to give him that. **** When Willem woke that night, he knew where he was and who lay in his arms. His beautiful dream boy was back. "Don't put me to sleep again," Willem whispered, afraid even a loud voice would banish the vision beside him. "Tell

me who you are." "Dear Willem." The green eyes held a glint of amusement. A gentle hand stroked back through his hair. "Can you honestly tell me you haven't guessed?" "I've never seen you before last night." A lean-muscled leg slid over his, caressing his calf. Willem looked down to see the boy's foot encased in a black boot... Kasha's boot. "You do know. Let your mind come around to it." Those green eyes, the gently mocking voice... No, holy shit, it can't be. Willem jerked back in shock. "You can't be Kasha. He's a cat." He scrambled backward over the floor, terrified that his last bit of sanity had taken a flying leap off a tall bridge. "No... go away! You're not real!" Hallucination-boy snorted. "Of course I'm real. Your family's been feeding me for years." "The cat... the cat was real." Even a magic cat, he could accept, but this beautiful boy, despite his feline eyes and fluid grace, was not a cat. "Not just a cat. Willem, it's still me. This is simply another aspect of me, the one you don't see as often." "I haven't seen you before because I wasn't crazy before!" Will scrabbled over the floorboards and surged up, trying to stand. He smacked his head on the edge of the table with a sickening crack. The room tipped on its side. "Willem! Will!" A soft, anxious voice called to him across the universe. "Oh, my poor Willem. Easy now."

He lay with his head and shoulders cradled in someone's arms. Must have grayed out. Ow. Damn. His fingers found a sore lump on top of his head. "Kasha?" "Yes. Despite your protestations to the contrary." "God." Willem put an arm over his eyes. "This is horrible." "Why?" "I've lost my mind. The way you look. Shit. It's just proof I've lost my mind." Kasha helped him sit up. "I can't possibly appear that hideous to you." His green eyes narrowed. "Or is it that you prefer something different? Someone larger, more powerfully built to match your own strength?" Will twisted out of his hands again. "What? No! Christ, you've seen Joey. You know I like smaller men." That was just it. This illusory version of Kasha was his dream boy. Lean, compact and hard-muscled, with smooth, golden skin and lovely, elfin features, he was like one of those luscious uke boys from a Japanese graphic novel, though not so effeminate. "It's... just sick and wrong. You're a cat, dammit, my cat. What the hell's wrong with me?" With a little sigh, Kasha moved behind him, hands kneading his knotted shoulders. "So you do find me desirable?" "Yes, and that's why you can't be real! You're exactly what I want, what I dream about. You have to be something manufactured by my tired, lonely brain. God, my head hurts." Gentle hands tilted Will's head back to rest on Kasha's

shoulder. Skilled fingers massaged his forehead and temples, easing the throbbing tension, soothing the sharp pain of smacking his skull on hardwood. "I see. So every boy you've ever desired then was an illusion. Every time you looked across the room and saw someone who attracted you, it was a daydream. Everyone you ever fucked was a hormone-induced hallucination." "Yes... no! I didn't... that makes no sense." "Neither does what you're babbling, my dear." Kasha leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm trying to create a logical progression for your thoughts." "I... oh." Willem became all too aware, even through his jacket and shirt, of the warm, naked chest pressed against his back. "I haven't had that many lovers, you know." He cringed at how defensive that sounded. "You certainly could have." Kasha undid his top two shirt buttons, sliding his fingers under the fabric to attack his knotted shoulder muscles more directly. "I don't just hook up with guys to screw them. I want it to be more than that." "No tomcatting about, eh?" Willem turned his head to see Kasha's wicked grin. His stomach did an odd flip, though he couldn't tell if he was still freaked out or getting turned on. "Not funny." He gazed into those lovely, not-quite-human eyes. If he wasn't crazy, there had to be some other explanation. "Kasha, what are you?" Kasha slid around to face him. He still had the cowboy

boots on, boots that shouldn't have fit adult male feet, but damn, he looked sexy in nothing but those. "If I tell you, will you run off to get a priest with crosses and holy water?" "Please. You're not a vampire." "Ah, no." Kasha's nose wrinkled in the most endearing look of offense. "Hardly." "What, then?" "I'm a sort of demon." Kasha took his hand as if he might try to pull away again. "Not the kind you Westerners usually think of. Not, say, the kind from Paranormal Activity. But not a being of the human world." "A cat demon." "Yes." "And you're here because... " "Because I'm a very bad little demon who broke the rules. I have to live among humans." "Oh." Willem took a moment to mull this over. "So, you were, what's that word, banished? Wherever home is, you can't go back there?" Kasha broke eye contact, a visible shiver running through him. "No," he whispered. "I can't go home." The shiver evolved into full-fledged shakes and Willem felt like a jackass for making him so upset. So he was a demon, so what? He'd never hurt Willem or his family and he obviously had feelings. He reached out and gathered Kasha close, pulling the lithe, lean body into his lap. "Shh, Kash, I'm sorry." He rocked Kasha slowly, stroking

the silken skin of his bare back. "Things have been a little screwy inside my brain lately. I didn't mean to poke into things that would hurt you. It's all right. So we're homeless together. It'll be okay." A low, keening moan came from Kasha, a sound that pierced Willem's heart. He wrapped his arms around that slender body and held him tight, letting Kasha cling to him until the shivers subsided. He shifted to adjust himself, the press of that beautiful, tight ass against his crotch just a little too intimate to keep to innocent thoughts. "Don't cry, beautiful." Not that Kasha was weeping, but he didn't know what else to call the little whimpers catching in his chest. On impulse, he slid his hands up to cup Kasha's face. It fit so well in his hands. He tilted his head and watched in fascination as Kasha's eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted. Unable to resist the invitation, he closed the distance and pressed his lips to Kasha's. They were so full, so soft. He needed another taste. His lips touched down for a more serious kiss, his tongue teasing at the seam of Kasha's lips.

Demon kisses. Like mint-chocolate and honey. He was rewarded with a throaty moan and Kasha's arms twining around his neck. The slender body melted against him, lips eagerly returning his kiss, opening for his questing tongue. Then Willem knew. He might be a demon and might work magic and have odd, mysterious motives, but sexually, Kasha was a bottom through and through.

Tongues parried as their kiss caught fire. Willem let his fingertips explore the firm planes of Kasha's chest. His thumb flicked over the hardening nub of one brown nipple and he received a little gasp. Not just a bottom, but also a wonderfully responsive bottom. It suddenly became the most important thing in the world to him to erase the sadness from Kasha's eyes. "So you're a bad little demon?" Kasha pulled back far enough to see his face, his expression guarded. "Some would tell you so." Willem tangled his fingers in thick, black hair, tugging gently. "And have you been bad today?" Awareness dawned in those bright eyes. A wicked smile curled Kasha's lips. "Oh, yes. I've been a very bad little demon today. Very bad indeed." "Hmm. We can't just let that go. Especially since you're my demon. You were left to me in my dad's will, after all." With a little squirm, Kasha let him know how excited this turn in conversation made him. His hardening cock poked Willem in the stomach. "I've been positively evil. I really should be punished." "You seem way too happy about that. It's not punishment if you enjoy it." "I won't." Kasha slid off his lap and pushed his jacket from his shoulders. "I'll be positively miserable and penitent. I promise." "I see." Willem chuckled and pushed Kasha's hands

away when he started on the shirt buttons. "You sit there like a proper penitent, then. Hands to yourself." Kasha sat back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, gaze on the floor. Willem raised an eyebrow at the instant compliance. He wondered what his past lovers had demanded. "You can watch, beautiful. Unless you don't want to." The dark head snapped up, a brief look of outrage on Kasha's face before he smoothed his features. His eyes devoured Willem's movements as he stood, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. A hot flush crept up from his heart. He knew he wasn't ugly. He'd been told enough times by both sexes that he was easy on the eyes, but he'd never had someone's eyes rake over his body with such starved heat. It made him self-conscious, as if he stripped out of more than just his clothes, but he had started this so he had to brazen through it.

What the hell am I doing? Am I so lonely, so horny, that I'll settle for any port in a storm? We just met a couple of days ago and he's not even human. That wasn't entirely true, since he had known Kasha all his life, just not like this. He dropped the shirt to the floor and sat on one of the chairs to unlace his boots, taking his time. Kasha chewed on his bottom lip, his erection bouncing a little as he squirmed impatiently. Willem undid his belt, popped the button on his jeans, and pulled the zipper down tooth by tooth. He did have to be

a little careful; his full, hard cock was bent down at an odd angle under that zipper. Getting it caught would have ended the fun real quick. "You're glorious," Kasha whispered as he shoved his pants and boxers down. "Really? And here I thought I was just plain hot." In more ways than one. If he blushed any more, he was going up in flames. He sat back down on the chair to pull his clothes off the rest of the way, and then folded his arms over his chest, trying to look stern. "Now what should I do with you? Hang you by your thumbs, maybe? Tie you to an anthill?" He meant it as teasing, but the look of fear and suspicion that leapt into Kasha's eyes nearly broke his heart. The expression faded so swiftly, he wondered for a moment if he'd been mistaken. "Kash?" His face a stoic, expressionless mask, Kasha approached on his knees. He placed a hand on Willem's thigh and turned his face up, though his eyes remained lowered. "I am yours. To do with as you will, Master." The word was like a bucket of ice water dumped in his lap. He lifted Kasha up and set him on his feet, keeping firm hold of his biceps. "Don't you ever call me that. Ever. Hear me?" For the first time, he thought he caught confusion in those spring-green eyes. "But you are. I belong to you." When Willem stood, he towered over the little cat demon

by a good half a foot. He took Kasha's chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing his head up. "Don't say that. You're a thinking, feeling being. You don't belong to anyone." Kasha bit his lip on a mewl of distress. Shit, what did

someone do to you? "And I don't want a slave or some I Dream of Jeannie kind of fantasy in my arms. I want a partner. I want you, with your smartass remarks and your cut-through-the-bullshit questions. All of it. All of you." "What should I call you, then?" Willem allowed himself a little smile. "How about stud?" "You haven't done anything to earn that yet." "Good. That sounds more like you. You can't tell me groveling comes naturally." "No." The single syllable held more sorrow and anger than Willem thought possible. He held out his arms and waited until Kasha snuggled against his chest. "I like when you say my name. Everyone else just calls me Will. But you say the whole thing, and it sounds liquid and beautiful, like lake waves on a windy day." "Willem, my dear boy." Kasha leaned back to meet his eyes. "I'd no idea you have a poet's heart." "Maybe you inspire me." He leaned in to brush a soft kiss over Kasha's lips. "Now, since you know what I like--" "Beautiful, compact boys with smart mouths and tight little asses." "Yes. That." Willem laughed, wishing he didn't blush so

easily. "Tell me what you like." Kasha's hands skated up his arms, making Willem shiver. "I like big men. Men of strength and... " He glanced down at Willem's package. "Sizeable assets. I do like the feeling of being overpowered during sex, overmatched. Tenderness has its place. But in the grip of passion, nothing annoys me more than being treated too carefully." "I'll keep that in mind. But you do know I'd never hurt you. Don't you?" "Yes." Kasha ducked his head. Embarrassed? Ashamed? "I know. Should have known." Willem pulled him close again and crushed his lips down on Kasha's in a bruising kiss. The undulations of that lithe body against his sent a rush of blood to his groin, his cock achingly hard again in seconds. Kasha's scent drove him on, his taste an aphrodisiac all its own as he plunged his tongue into his sweet mouth. The fine-grit sandpaper feel of Kasha's tongue against his added an extra layer of excitement. Teeth nipped at him and Kasha's nails kneaded into his back. Willem bent and slid an arm under Kasha's knees to scoop him up against his chest, still driving his tongue hard inside. Those firm, yielding lips against his conjured a sudden image of them wrapped around his cock. The thought nearly took him out at the knees. "Willem." Kasha nuzzled under his chin, purring. "I do want to please you."

He knew enough about cats to recognize that not all purrs were contented ones. Cats purred when they hurt, as well, or when they were anxious. "Don't worry. I'm sure you will." Their blanket nest by the fire seemed the best choice. He placed his soon-to-be demon lover facedown on the comforter, enchanted by the play of firelight over golden ass cheeks blushed from the heat of arousal. Rose and gold--the combination struck him as so warm and inviting. Kasha arched his back, lifting his gorgeous butt in invitation. "Is this part of the punishment? Making me wait interminably to have you inside me?" "I want that like you wouldn't believe, but I don't have any rubbers." "Ah." Kasha twisted to lean on one elbow. "You don't need them with me. We're different species, my dear, and can't transmit diseases to each other." "Wishful thinking, or you know this?" "I know it. I've lived with humans for long enough to know." How long? Willem squashed the question. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. "I'm not taking you dry, though." "Didn't I just tell you what annoys me most?" Kasha rolled his pelvis against the comforter. "If you don't--" He broke off on a soft cry when Willem ran his tongue down the crease between his cheeks. "Oh... dear gods... " Willem teased around the puckered ring, breathing in

Kasha's scent, clean and earthy. The clean part didn't surprise him. He was a cat for most of the day, after all. When he licked over the hole, Kasha shuddered. When he shoved his tongue inside, his little demon howled and pushed back against him. "Shh, hush." Willem nipped his right ass cheek to reinforce the demand. Old habits, telling his lovers to keep it down. While he had never kept his being gay a secret, he had never made much effort to come out, either. His bedroom activities were his own damn business, which he'd rather not share with the neighbors. Out here in the woods, though, Kasha could scream and moan without anyone overhearing. He drove his tongue into the constrictive passage, grabbing hold of Kasha's hips when his squirming and thrashing bordered on violent. "Willem," Kasha got out in a strangled whisper. "Turn around. Please. Let me... oh... " He seemed to lose his train of thought as Willem caressed his balls. "Just turn." Without losing contact, Willem spun around and straddled Kasha's head. Soft lips closed around his cock as Kasha arched and turned his head to meet what he offered. Soft, heated lips, just as he had imagined, closing hard around his head... and then he gasped, his hips jerking as that rough tongue lapped up the underside of his erection. "Fuck," he whispered, catching his balance on both palms.

"Too much?" Kasha whispered against his skin. "No... maybe. Give me a sec." Willem panted, trying to force his body under control. "Do it again. Not too hard." The little bit of sandpaper friction wasn't quite pain, but the exquisite stimulation would put him over the edge too quickly. He allowed it for a few moments, letting Kasha get him wet and ready, gulping slow breaths while he ignored his body's demands to thrust. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he pulled away, amused at the little whimper from Kasha. "Willem, please, not yet. You taste so incredible." "I'm not a piece of candy, babe. You keep licking me like that, I'll be raw." He moved back around and Kasha pulled his knees up, spreading his legs wide while presenting that lovely backside. Nice to have a lover who made clear what he wanted without all the dirty talk. It turned a lot of guys on, he knew that, but for Willem it had always been a distraction, sometimes to the point of embarrassment. If both partners had the same anatomy, why the need for such graphic demands? They both knew what went where and how things should go. His fingers dented Kasha's skin as he pulled his cheeks apart and angled his head with his thumbs, grunting at the vise grip around him as he eased past the tight ring. Not too careful, Kasha had been clear on that point, but he still waited that crucial moment for his partner to adjust. Once

that telltale unclenching of muscles occurred, he thrust in hard, shoving his cock halfway into that heated sleeve. He knew it was the right approach when Kasha groaned and shoved back equally hard, demanding more. Head spinning from the overload of pleasure, Willem clenched his jaw and gripped Kasha's hips to control his movements. It had been awhile, and the last thing he wanted to do was make a poor showing this first time. He kept his thrusts long and steady, pulling out almost all the way and then sliding back in until his pelvis met Kasha's sweet butt. "So perfect," Kasha whispered, his back arching to change the angle of Willem's thrusts. "You fill me so completely... gods." Willem leaned against Kasha's back, nipping and licking at his shoulder while he reached a hand underneath to toy with Kasha's furry balls and tease along his cock. His fingers slid over the leaking head, and then he curled his fingers around, sliding his hand down Kasha's surprisingly thick erection. "Willem... " "Hmm?" He thrust harder as he drew his hand back up. "Willem, be careful of the--" "Ow! Damn!" Kasha jerked and moaned. "--penile spines." He snatched his hand back to shake it out. Damn stupid. Of course Kasha had the little ring of backward pointing spines on his cock. He was a cat.

"I'm so sorry," Kasha murmured. "Shush. My fault." He stroked Kasha's back to make it clear he wasn't angry. "Didn't think of it in time." "If you only stroke down... " "Got it." The little bite of the spines hadn't done a thing to dampen his desire. The tingling burn along the webbing between thumb and forefinger actually spurred him on. Flushed, heart racing, it was as if the spines had injected him with some sort of sexual fever. He closed his fist around Kasha's cock again, careful only to stroke downward, and returned to pounding deep into the lithe, squirming body beneath him with unprecedented ferocity. Kasha writhed on the blanket, shoving back as hard as Willem thrust into him. "Willem... oh, gods... " He stilled, muscles trembling, and then shoved back once more with an unearthly howl, his channel clenching in hard pulses. Willem gasped, his balls drawing up in a sudden rush. He buried himself balls-deep inside the breathtaking tightness of Kasha's body, the thirty-foot wave of his orgasm rushing in on him. He bellowed as it crashed over him, sweeping him up, tumbling and tossing him until he lost all sense of direction. With a hard groan, he collapsed on top of Kasha, crushing him into the blankets as the aftershocks left him trembling and panting. When he caught his breath, he levered himself up on his arms and withdrew much more gently than he had entered.

Kasha shivered and moaned as he slipped free, shaking from head to foot. With a frown, Willem gathered him into his arms to hold him on his lap, stroking his back and sides. "Hey, you all right, babe?" "I'm shattered," Kasha whispered against his throat. "Nothing but a kaleidoscope of jagged pieces." "Did I--" Kasha put a finger over his lips to shush him. "You are not a stud, my dear Willem. You are a god." Willem grinned and tipped Kasha's head up for a tender kiss. "A little over the top, there. But I'll take it."

Chapter 4: Retribution And Reconnaissance Kasha woke as a cat the next morning, sore and unreasonably content. His first bout of sex in several decades had a good deal to do with that, but the sunbeam caressing his body and the large, sleep-warm body beside him certainly didn't detract. He rubbed his face against Willem's jaw, delighting in the rough stubble. Such a handsome lord he had this time, so considerate and giving. If only they could simply stay here, tucked away in their mountain stronghold. Ah, well. Willem needed more. He deserved more. It was a selfish, ridiculous thought, the one that kept whispering to him that he could have his lord to himself, truly be his lover, his partner. A product of his loneliness, such absurd thoughts. He was merely the instrument of change, the faithful servant. When human lives settled again, when the novelty of magic wore off, they wanted human things and a human life. Willem would need that, too, perhaps sooner than later. It would be good to see him content, perhaps even in love, before Kasha had to leave him, the day Willem no longer needed him and dismissed him. Rightly so, a banished, disgraced kasha had no place in a good man's life. When Willem began to stir, he stared in unabashed

fascination as the blankets slipped from one broad shoulder, hard-packed chest and flat abdomen exposed as he rolled to his back, the soft line of golden hair from chest to navel inviting him to move his eyes lower. Kasha pawed at the blankets to pull them down farther, to the pelvic crease, to the lovely morning erection lying heavy on Willem's stomach. Willem's eyes fluttered open. He stretched, powerful biceps on full display. "Damn!" Willem sat up and pulled the blankets close. "Cold in here." With a twitch of his tail, Kasha tamped down on his disappointment at having the tantalizing view spoiled so soon. His eyes half-closed, he contented himself with catching teasing glimpses of skin while Willem built up the fire and started breakfast, oatmeal for the human stomach, another tin of tuna for the feline. Willem stroked his ears while he gazed into the fire. "Kash, when you said you were bad yesterday, did you really mean you were bad? Did you do something bad?" Before the claiming, Kasha could have lied or ignored him. Now, his heki-sama had asked a direct question. The compulsion made anything other than truth quite painful. "Yes. I did something of which perhaps you would not approve." The petting hand froze on his head. "What did you do?" Kasha paced to the other side of the hearth to give himself a bit of room. "It was a matter of retribution. Of setting

things right." "Retribution?" Willem's pale complexion edged toward gray. "Damn it, Kash, what did you do? Who was it?" Oh, this isn't going well at all. "I paid a brief visit to your ex-lover." "To Joey?" "Yes. It was a matter of justice, for his cruelty to you." Willem surged up, yanking on clothes as quickly as his shaking hands allowed. "Is he... oh, my God, did you hurt him?" "It's merely discomfort, Willem. He is unharmed. For the most part." "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Dammit, if I didn't want to get back at him, why the hell would you?" "You kindness would never have allowed it." Kasha tucked into a ball, wishing he could shrink into the stones. "Got that right. Did I ask you to fight my battles for me?" Willem shoved his feet into his boots, fished his wallet from his pack, and threw on his jacket. He stabbed a finger in Kasha's direction. "We'll talk about this when I get back. He sure as hell better be all right, or you and I are gonna have a problem. Hear me?" "Yes, m--yes, sir." He flinched when the door slammed hard behind Willem. So much for keeping it from him. It had been a mistake, the little bit of teasing the previous night. Willem might act the wide-eyed ingénue sometimes, but he was far too sharp to

miss such hints. Patching things up would have to wait until later that day. By then, perhaps the miscreant ex-lover would have realized the solution to his dilemma and then Willem's temper might cool. It shocked him, the hurt his new lord's anger caused. He didn't relish anger aimed at him from most sources, but this desolate feeling was less familiar. No time for regrets or speculation now, though. He searched the pack until he found the little metal crane, placed it under his hat, and set the hat on his head. Before seeking his Willem's forgiveness, he had much to accomplish that day. **** Willem waited for an answer to his question, shifting from foot to foot, while Gunther checked gauges on the mash tun. "Yes, that prick you used to live with," Gun finally said as he straightened. "He called this morning looking for you. Didn't know where you'd gone, and I told him so." "Did he sound okay?" Willem ignored the gentle accusation. He knew Gun would worry, but how could he tell him he had hunkered down in someone's hunting cabin without permission? Not as if he had a phone up there, either. Gunther shrugged. "He sounded hysterical, but I can't tell you any more than that." "What did he say?" "Will." Gunther ran a hand back through his short-cropped

hair. "If you hook up with him again, I'll kick your butt from here to Poughkeepsie." "Not gonna happen. But I heard something and I'm worried." Gunther gave him a long, hard look. "Fine. He said if you turned up to ask you to come by the apartment." "Did he say why?" "No, and I didn't ask the little creep. After what he did to you? I don't much care if his hair was on fire." One corner of Willem's mouth tugged up. Before the breakup, he had thought Gunther didn't like Joey because he was so openly gay. It had never occurred to him that the dislike stemmed from how he treated Gunther's little brother. "All right. Thanks, Gun." He turned to go, but Gunther's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "You plan on telling me where you landed?" "I will. When I have something permanent." The hand didn't budge. "I'm okay, Gun. Really." Gunther relinquished his grip with a sigh. "Fine. You check in sometimes. Don't make me come looking for you." "Hard-ass." "Slacker." They shared a little smile at the exchange of boyhood insults, and then Willem strode away, too worried to delay any longer. The apartment he and Joey had shared was only two blocks away, not that anything in town was more than a few

minutes' walk from the brewery. Just three rooms and a bathroom above the old hardware store, now a Goodwill, he had loved the scents of old wood and the creak of ancient radiators. Joey had always carped about finding a better place, but Willem had felt at home there.

I guess that should be ironic. Oh, well. He walked up the steps at the back of the building and knocked. "Joey? Joey, open the door! It's Will!" 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 outof-the-way place for someone Joey's height, but at six-footfour, 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." "Were you forced into service?" "No, ma'am. I serve because I must, but this one I serve willingly." "Whom do you serve, pretty kasha? A sorcerer? A necromancer? And what does your master want with us?" "I serve the artist, Willem Aufderheide. He has long been an admirer of your beautiful house and gardens, and he sends me with a small gift." He reached into his hatband, pulled out Willem's crane, and offered it to the old woman. She approached slowly, perhaps more from impaired mobility than caution, but tendrils of powerful magic

preceded her, ghosting over Kasha, prodding at him. He drew slow breaths, willing his body to relax, his tail to stay smooth and still. He had no ill intentions to hide, nothing to fear. With an age-curled hand, she took the crane, holding it in her palm to examine it. "It's a princely gift. His work?" Kasha nodded. "It's lovely. Tell him thank you, from all of us. Come inside, pretty kasha. It's too cold out here to talk." Hat in paws, he followed the three witches, the youngest positively beaming, the middle-aged one still scowling. He sat human-wise on the kitchen chair offered to him, back legs dangling over the edge, tail politely curled in his lap. The old witch offered him catnip tea while she poured chamomile for the humans, and the four of them sipped and chatted. He discovered they were Natt, Ettermiddag and Morgen Engelstad, mother, daughter and granddaughter, and that their family had owned large tracts of the land around Honeybole for nearly two hundred years. "Aufderheide," Ettie said into a pause in conversation. "Isn't that the beer family?" "That is my lord's family, yes," Kasha admitted. "So a brewer managed to claim a kasha?" "His father was the brewer, ma'am. Willem is a man of more... unusual talents." "Obviously." Natt, the grandmother snorted, and then grew more serious. "I knew Horst. He was a hard man, but

devoted to his craft. I was sad to hear that he passed." "He leaves a void." Kasha found he did miss the old bear. Strange that he would. "And into void something must rush to fill it," Natt said softly. "And when we don't see to it, sometimes what we don't wish rushes in." "My lady, you mean something beside a philosophical statement, I believe." Kasha shifted in his chair as fingers of shadow crept along the floorboards. "I wish I didn't," the old woman said. "Though maybe if your Willem is powerful enough to ensnare a kasha, he might help with this." "Perhaps, my lady, you might tell me? I might intercede for you with him." The three witches looked at one another. Morgen finally spoke. "See, Grandma owns a second house, on the other side of the hill. It's supposed to be my house, if I, you know, decide to have kids and stuff." "But something moved in there, changing the deed, registering the property as his," Ettie continued. "Something?" Kasha's ears twitched. "An investment banker." "A lawyer." "An ogre." Kasha blinked, trying to make sense of the conversation. "Three somethings?" "No, all the same one," Natt explained.

"An unpleasant investment banker has seized the property with the help of his attorney?" Kasha felt a headache coming on. "No, silly kitty." Morgen giggled. "The scumbag's an ogre, a real one. Not the nice kind from that movie. But he's also a banker and has his law degree. He just kinda took the house and we can't budge him." "An ogre," he repeated. "Truly?" But he found himself not as surprised as he should have been. That explained the darkness he had felt in the mountains, the gathering of power that had disturbed his dreams. "How do ogres acquire law degrees?" Natt shrugged. "I assume they take all sorts at law schools, if they pass the exams." "Maybe even online, who knows?" Ettie shrugged. "No one would ever catch sight of him then." "Hey, Gram?" a new voice called from the hallway, a deep, male voice. "Have you seen the cable for my amp?" The disembodied voice resolved into a beautiful young man, lean and athletic, with thick waves of chocolate hair and a guitar slung over his shoulder. "I can't keep track of your things, Teddy," Natt said with weary exasperation. "Well, I--holy crap. That is one freaky cat." The gorgeous male, Teddy, presumably, stared at Kasha with hazel eyes gone huge as dinner plates. "I mean, he is a cat, right? And not some poor dude Aunt Ettie turned into a cat?"

"No, he's a cat, stupid," Morgen said with a contemptuous eye roll. "Never know around here." He gave Kasha a tentative wave. "Hey, Mr. Kitty, how's it hanging?" "Quite comfortably under the tail, thank you," Kasha answered after a sip of tea. Teddy grinned. "Hey, I like him. Lots more fun than your usual guests." "Good to hear, young sir." Kasha hopped down from his chair and handed his mug off to Morgen. "Thank you for the tea, kind ladies, and for the lovely visit. As to the issue we discussed, I will put it before my--Willem. I'm sure he'll wish to help." Natt gave him a nod. "Thank you. We wouldn't want to put him in a bad spot, but if there's anything he could suggest, we'd be grateful." Kasha gave the ladies a little bow and left by the backdoor. On his way out, he heard Teddy ask, "So who's this Willem dude? Is he cute?" The visit couldn't have gone better. The witches were friendly and interested in the arts. They had a problem with which they required assistance, a house standing empty, and a visiting relative who was not only gay and breathtakingly handsome, he was apparently looking. Perfect. All the elements were there for Willem: patronage, housing, and the possibility of a new love interest. Now he merely needed to pull the players together under just

the right circumstances.

Chapter 5: Memory And Shadow When he reached the cabin again, he was exhausted and out of sorts. The brief visit to the ogre's house had drained him badly, all his power going to shielding his presence. The witches' neighbor was not merely any ogre. They could be stupid, ravenous louts, but, no, this one was old. Canny and powerful, he wore his magic like a carefully selected wardrobe, only showing what he pleased. Kasha felt the layers underneath, though, and was frightened for the first time in many years. This one shifted shapes as easily as if he changed his shirt. He wondered if his promise to the ladies would be one he could keep, or even one he should try to keep. It might endanger them all.

Rest first. Things will be clearer in the morning. Unfortunately, rest had to wait as well. Willem had reached the cabin first, his anger emanating from under the door. "Oh, marvelous." Kasha hesitated, briefly considered staying outside, and then decided he was better off facing the confrontation and possibly having the storm blow over before he collapsed on his face. He pushed the door open to find Willem pacing in front of the fire. He whirled when the door creaked, fire in his eyes. "Damn you, Kasha! What the hell did you do?"

"In what regard, sir?" Kasha shut the door and went to the fire to warm his paws. "Don't hand me that! To Joey! He was all curled up, whimpering in pain when I got there today. Don't even tell me it wasn't you!" "It was a small conditional spell, my lord. Nothing more. How is he now?" He found himself unable to look at Willem. It hurt to have him so angry, more than it should. "He's... fine." That seemed to temper Willem's rage. "He's fine. But that's not the point. He sure as hell wasn't when I got there. And why is he fine now?" "Conditional. A certain act triggers the spell. A certain act rescinds it." Kasha lay down on his side, trying to keep his eyes open. "So what triggered it?" "Putting on his underwear." Willem made a disgusted sound. "Oh, that's low. God. And how did he break it?" "What did you do while you were there, my lord?" It seemed Willem was too angry even to notice the title. "I... talked to him. I held him. He said it felt better when he thought about me." "Yes. You were the crux of the spell. Retribution for the hurt he had caused you. When did the symptoms vanish?" "When... " Willem's voice finally regained a normal pitch. "When I forgave him." "So it is done. He will be well now."

He had hoped that was the end of it, but he found himself seized under his forelegs and dangled at the end of Willem's arms, facing his still angry heki-sama. "How can you be so fucking casual about something like that? You hurt him!" "And he hurt you." "The one thing has nothing to do with the other!" Willem gave him a little shake. "You don't go around hurting people for revenge!" "It was for you," Kasha pleaded softly. "I don't care what it was for! You don't use your magic to hurt anyone! Ever!" "Fine." Willem pulled him closer so their noses were a mere breath apart. His voice had plunged to a deep growl as he went on. "No, not fine! You promise me! Never again!" Kasha heaved a weary sigh. "I will not use my magic for harm while I serve you. This I swear on the gods of earth and sky." "Well... good. All right then." Willem's grip eased, concern creased his forehead. "Kash? You okay?" "No. Not entirely. I just need to rest by the fire." Willem placed him gently on the hearthstones. Darkness crowded his vision, and he knew this was not merely exhaustion. The blackness hit him from time to time, cold and bitter, though normally after battle, or after he had been freed again. The timing made no sense.

If he were human, he supposed they would call it depression. The word didn't seem quite adequate for the crushing despair. He felt his body melt from fur to skin. Distantly, he knew he lay in his human male form now, naked on the stones except for his boots. He found it difficult to care where or what he was. "Kash? Damn... " Willem's voice reached him from the end of a gray tunnel. A blanket settled over his chilled skin. "It will pass. Let me be." But Willem, being Willem, did no such thing. He gathered Kasha up and held him in his lap, wrapping the blanket close around him. "You're so cold. Are you sick? Do demons get sick?" Kasha couldn't bring himself to answer. A sickness of sorts, he supposed, if past failures and pain oozing up from the depths could be called illness.

"Give me the slippers, Yorukaze." "Yoritomo-sama... please! I have been faithful!" "The slippers. I have no more need of you, demon." "Did you not say you loved me, my lord?" "Pillow talk. Surely you knew that." Faces faded, but the voices stayed with him, clear and sharp. Sometimes cold or fearful, sometimes full of contempt or occasional regret. Humility, yes, he had learned something of that. He knew his place by now. But sometimes the voices grew too loud again, drowned self and shattered

confidence. "Should have said something. I'm so sorry." The deep, sorrowful voice reached through all the others, dragging him back to the fireside, to strong, gentle arms. Willem rocked him, stroking his hair. "I shouldn't have been so hard on you. Not when you feel this bad. God, I'm sorry." Willem's face appeared through the shadows, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "You going to be okay? Can I get you anything?" "Always... such a considerate boy," Kasha whispered, forcing the words through the dark sludge pressing on his lungs.

"She took her life rather than be with me! Of what use are you, wretched demon?" "I cannot command love, majesty. The illusion of it, perhaps--" "Then why did you not give me that? Thrice cursed churl, why did you not bespell her, make her mine?" "There are things I cannot do, majesty." "Cannot?" "Will not." "Give the damned boots back! Begone!" He fisted his hands in Willem's shirt, desperate for his solid warmth. "Willem... " "Easy, easy, deep breaths. I've got you." "Hold me tight. Please! I'm... I can't... everything's shifting."

Willem's arms closed around him. Soft lips traced over his cheekbones, his eyelids. "It'll be all right, Kash. You're right here with me. Look at me."

"My lord, your hands... so much blood... what have you done?" "Easily washed, my kasha." "But they came in good faith, under flag of truce." "And you led them to me. It was well done. Lambs to the slaughter." He surged up from the dark, gasping, clawing toward the one point of light so far above. "Willem!" "I'm here, I'm here. Shh, shh." Willem's lips closed on his, gentle but insistent. His mouth answered with wild hunger, seeking to pin the present down, clinging amid the storm surge of memory. Willem, Willem, his touch seared Kasha to his soul. Where his fingers traced, bands of white sunlight trailed behind, filling the dark empty spaces. He opened his eyes to find he had pinned Willem on his back, half the buttons ripped off his shirt. Panting, he kissed the red marks left by his nails on Willem's chest. "Forgive me." "You back with me now?" "Yes." "No big deal, then. Kinda nice to drive someone that wild." He searched Willem's face in the firelight. "Did I bite

you?" "A little growling, some teeth, but no biting." Willem reached up to stroke a stray lock of hair from his forehead. His eyes held quiet amusement and concern, but no fear. "I'm sorry about your shirt." "Guess you'll just have to take it off the rest of the way now." Kasha gave him a solemn nod. "It's really the only sensible thing." He undid the last three buttons with exaggerated care, fingers ghosting over Willem's skin. When he tugged the tails out, Willem half sat up to help him slide the shirt from his arms. Large hands stroked over his thighs. "You want to take your boots off, Kash?" "No!" He gulped a panicked breath and went on more softly, "No. Please don't ask me to." He slid his fingers down the lovely golden treasure trail on Willem's stomach to undo his belt. "Fine, sorry. It is starting to freak me out just a little, though. Kind of like that story about the black velvet choker." "Oh?" Kasha popped the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. "Man marries this woman who always wears a black velvet choker. She never takes it off and he wonders why. She won't tell him, but she says she can't ever take it off. Finally, one night while she's asleep, he takes it off and her head rolls off onto the floor. And her head yells at him that

she told him she could never take it off." "Just to put you at ease, the boots are holding on neither my feet nor my head." Willem took his hand and kissed his fingers one by one. "But something bad will happen? Is that it?" "Yes." "You don't have to tell me." Willem lifted his hips to help Kasha slide his jeans and boxers down to his knees. "But if you need to talk. About anything." "Thank you." Still straddling Willem's hips, he curled forward to blow a gentle breath over Willem's growing erection. An inch more and he licked at the bottom of the cap, pleased when he received a twitch and a hard groan. "God, you're flexible." "I'm a--" "Cat, yeah, got that. Can you, um, lick your own cock?" "I can even lick my own balls." "Wow." The word came out as a tortured whisper. "Could I... watch?" Kasha found himself smiling, the darkness receding to faint, stippled shadows. "My sweet Willem, you do have the loveliest bit of kink to you." He slid off Willem's lap to sit on the floor, one leg tucked under him. The other leg he lifted slowly, straight up until his knee was beside his ear. "Are you watching?" "Hell, yeah," Willem choked out. Slowly, just to tease, he curled down, concentrating on

one vertebrate at a time. His cock, a good deal larger than a normal cat's, thank the gods, had already hardened and pushed from its sheath in arousal. Careful of the little forest of keratinous spines, he lipped at the tip. A desperate moan pulled his gaze up. Willem knelt, divested of his clothes, knees spread wide, stroking himself. "Did you just want to watch?" "No. But it's getting me pretty damn hot." Kasha curled lower, shivering as his own rough tongue teased over his balls. It didn't excite him during tongue baths, but having Willem watch made it so deliciously wicked. He lifted his head, his breaths coming short. "Tell me what you want, Willem. Tell me what to do." "You're so beautiful." Willem's hand had frozen on his erection, his pupils so large they consumed his eyes. "I want you so bad." "I had hoped you'd do a little better than that." "How long can you stay like that?" "Oh." Kasha shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe half an hour." "Can you get both legs up?" He snorted. "Not without falling over." "Don't worry about that, sweetheart." A lazy, wicked smile curled Willem's lips. "I'll take care of you." "No doubt." Kasha shuddered as a bolt of pure lust shot through the center of his body. He didn't mind nudging things in one direction or another, but what he truly desired was that

rush of surrender. Willem in command mode set off New Year's fireworks in his blood. Without lowering the one leg, he carefully straightened the one on which he sat, and had to stifle a cry of indignation when Willem turned away from him. Willem shot an amused glance over his shoulder as he rummaged in his pack. "Don't blow a gasket, hon. Be right with you." He turned back, gripping a little bottle of hand lotion. "Joey insisted I needed it." "You do know it's rude to mention an ex in front of your naked lover?" "Sorry." Willem's unrepentant grin was anything but. "And you know I don't need that." Willem scooted closer on his knees. "Sure. But slippery's more fun." He squirted a little mound onto his fingers, put the bottle down, and wrapped his other arm around Kasha's back to steady him. "How about you get both legs up over my shoulders." Careful of Willem's head, Kasha lifted his other leg, able to remain upright leaning on the strength of the arm supporting his back. While he couldn't drape his legs over Willem's shoulders, the position was just as interesting with both legs sticking straight up in the air, propped against Willem's hard chest. He gasped at the cold touch of lotion against his perineum, and then moaned, his head falling back, when the slick finger slid lower to tease at his hole.

"I feel like a pretzel," he forced out as one thick finger slid past his tight ring. Willem sucked on the side of his throat. "You're sure a tasty one." Firefly sparks of pleasure ricocheted through him when Willem wriggled the finger in far enough to stroke his gland. He gave up speech, his fingers kneading Willem's biceps, a loud purr vibrating through his chest. A second finger joined the first and his purring ratcheted up a notch, punctuated by little, pleading mews. "I love the sounds you make," Willem whispered against his jaw, licking and nibbling. "You want more?" "More," Kasha got out in a hoarse growl. His breath caught in shock when Willem lifted him, bent in half as he was, onto his lap, settling his rock hard erection in the crease between Kasha's cheeks. In all his years of sex, with some encounters more memorable than others, this was a position he did not recall. But then, Willem was uncommonly strong; it wasn't a position most men could manage. That deliciously sculpted arm wrapped tighter around Kasha's waist and lifted. The buried fingers withdrew, replaced by the silken head of Willem's erection demanding entrance. Kasha wrapped his arms around Willem's neck, breathing in hard puffs as Willem lowered him, filling him inch by inch. The odd position meant that Willem couldn't drive as

deep as he had before, but that negated none of the mindmelting pleasure. Pain accompanied the strange angle as well, in each slow thrust, in the building burn tightening his hamstrings, but it was what he needed most right now. Physical pain was a thing of the moment. It drove out the haunts of the past. "All right, babe?" Willem murmured in his ear, both arms wrapped tight around him now, moving Kasha up and down as he pleased. "Yes, oh, yes." Kasha dug his nails into Willem's broad back, urging him on, helpless to do much more than wriggle on the pole impaling him. His cock, trapped against Willem's stomach, rode up and down along that soft, golden treasure trail. The spines had to be scraping Willem's skin, but he either enjoyed the sensation or was too caught up in the moment to care. So close, so damn close. "Willem, just a little, just... " He couldn't formulate a cohesive sentence, but Willem sensed what he needed and thrust up hard, thigh muscles bunching under Kasha's ass. The skin of his sac drew up tight, in a sudden rush as if his balls tried to climb inside. He felt as if the wind lifted him, as he used to when he rode the lightning. The cabin fell away. There was only Willem and the gale on which they rode. A howl leaped from his throat as the first shock of climax slammed through him. Willem's arms tightened around him painfully, his body shuddering under Kasha as he grunted

and drove up harder. He buried his head against Kasha's shoulder, muffling his cries when he followed Kasha into the storm. Once the tempest began to quiet, Willem leaned forward on trembling legs to lower Kasha to his back, easing out so Kasha could have his own legs back. He sprawled boneless on the floor, limbs flung out with no regard for dignity, and heaved a long, contented sigh. Willem flopped down beside him. "Damn, you wear me out." With a little smile, Kasha leaned over to lick the red claw marks on Willem's shoulders and back. Not satisfied with that, he slid down to lick the white trails with which his climax had decorated Willem's stomach and chest. The mixed flavors of Willem's skin and his own come were intoxicating. After a few rough-tongued licks, Willem squirmed and laughed. "Stop! You're going to get me all riled up again." Kasha raised an eyebrow. "That's a bad thing?" "I need a rest first. Maybe even a nap." "Of course. I'm sorry." Kasha gave himself a little shake and changed back into his furred form. He rubbed his cheek against Willem's head and padded out the door to sit in the last rays of the evening sun on the doorstep. The blackness had lifted, thanks to Willem, though he felt oddly hollow and weary. He hummed to himself, watching the sun, his ancient mistress, change her gown from yellow to scarlet.

In a few moments, Willem joined him, fully dressed. He plunked down on the step beside Kasha, opening a tin of canned ham. "What were you humming?" "An old song. Before your time, dear boy." "Uh-huh. Old like Greensleeves old? Or just Stardust Memories old?" Willem nudged him with his elbow. "I know a lot of old songs. It's not like music has an expiration date." Kasha glanced at him sideways, and then recited rather than subjecting Willem to his singing voice. Several previous masters had begged him not to sing. "I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines... " "Wait in this place, where the shadows run from themselves," Willem finished softly. "See, I know it. Still not feeling too great?" He butted his head against Willem's arm. "It's much better." You make it better. "Just overtired." Willem offered him bits of ham from his fingers while they watched the sun melt into the trees. "You need regular meals and a nice place to sleep. Time I swallowed my damn pride and got a job. Even minimum wage would get us a little room with heat and hot water." "I'm comfortable here, Willem." "This was the perfect place to be for a couple days to get my head on straight. But we can't be up here when the snows start." He pulled Kasha into his lap. "Not to mention the money's going to run out, and the food." "I'll hunt for you."

A soft laugh rumbled in Willem's chest. "I bet you would. Thing is, I need more than meat. So do you. Maybe I get a job I hate, so what? People do it all the time. It's just work, just to survive." A hard hand squeezed around Kasha's heart to hear him say so. If Willem had been alone, he might not be so willing to make the sacrifice. His lord wanted to do this for him. My heki-sama will not be someone's stock boy. The angry thought brought a growl up, which he managed to hide under a sneeze. "Give me a day or two before you do that. Just a little more time, and if your fortunes haven't changed by sundown two days from now, I'll gladly go back into town with you." "All right. Couple days won't hurt." Willem sighed. "Guess I'll have to go begging to Gun short-term after all, just so we don't have to sleep in a doorway." He stroked Kasha's back. "Please tell me you're not planning anything illegal, or anything that'll hurt someone else." "I've made you a promise. I intend to keep it. No magic used for harm." "Um, okay. But there's lots of harm done without magic all the time." Kasha leaned his head against Willem's chest. "I know that. Better than you think. No humans or animals will be harmed in the process of my machinations." Willem tapped a finger on his nose. "That includes you. I don't want you hurt, either." He hesitated a long moment,

though Kasha felt his need to say more. Finally, he went on softly, "Kash? What did you do to get banished? Was it something really bad?" No other master had ever asked him that, and he had never volunteered the information. Minamoto no Yoritomo had known, had guessed the truth, but then the shogun had been unusually skilled at reading motives, and he had understood the nature of kashas. Trust, it seemed such a simple thing. He had loved a half handful of his lords, but had never been able to peel back that last layer of trust. Willem, he had watched grow up. He knew his heart, an unfailingly good heart, despite his sometimes-prickly temper. Did he trust Willem? Dear gods, yes, more than he trusted himself. "It was three really bad things, if you must know." Kasha snuggled closer, wanting more warmth now that he had made the decision to lay bare his past. "I was a particular kind of demon and had a specific job. A sacred trust." "Yeah? What kind of job?" "I guided souls. Many people are able to find their own way when they die. Some have difficulty. It was my job to be on hand for the ones who needed help. Not that there were ever enough of my kind to guide every lost spirit, which is why there are ghosts--" "You're kidding, right?" "No. I tease about a lot of things. Not that." Willem shivered and rose with Kasha in his arms. "I think

I'd rather finish this inside, by the fire." Firelight was no deterrent to ghosts, but the instinctive retreat to light and warmth was a human one. If more people

listened to their instincts, they might not walk blithely into so many disasters. "Sorry, guiding spirits, you said," Willem prompted as he settled on their blanket nest. "That was my calling, my sworn duty. I was not to interfere in any way, only to guide the frightened spirit to the next life." "Did you do it in cat form?" "Sometimes. Children especially were happy to follow a kitty. Adults were sometimes more comfortable with the human form." "I'd follow that, no question. Especially naked... " Kasha snorted. "Focus, Willem. It sounds easy enough, doesn't it? But there were many times when I felt the fates unjust, when I wished to shelter the human from Lady Death's hand. One day, I did. An evil man had strangled his newborn son. I coaxed the infant soul back to his body and breathed life back into him. The man was still in the room, though blind to my presence, so I took his soul instead. It was a struggle, at first. He didn't wish to go, but he became more peaceful as we journeyed." "So this was bad? Saving a baby?" Willem's voice rumbled with indignation. "It wasn't my place to decide. But my lady, the sun goddess, forgave me, because of the circumstances. The

second transgression was similar, a young woman murdered by her faithless betrothed. Again, I was royally chewed out but allowed to return to my work. The third--" "The last straw, huh?" "Yes. This time it was a young man. Barely a man, he was only eighteen, but already a gifted poet. He fell in battle, defending his father's house. He was so lovely, Willem, such a bright, astonishing spark. When I saw him lying on the stones, his beautiful face gray, his eyes fixed, I thought my heart would shatter. I healed his wounds and placed his soul back in his body. Lady Death was furious, and I had no soul to trade for him. And this time I was punished for my arrogance." "So how long's your sentence?" "Sentence?" "Right, how long do you have left? Do you get parole hearings or something? Time off for good behavior?" Kasha stared up into those beautiful gray eyes, astonished. No one else had ever thought so, but Willem believed there was still redemption waiting for him. "I... my dear lord... " "I said something wrong, didn't I?" "No." Kasha squirmed out of his arms, needing some distance so he wouldn't break down and begin keening. "It's a life sentence. And demon lives are very long." "Damn. I'm sorry. It was a stupid question." "Not stupid, not at all." He curled up against Willem's hard

thigh. "It hasn't been all bad. I found peace with your family over the last twenty years as a cat, following your father from house to brewery every day. It was a good life." "You miss him, huh?" "I do." Willem exhaled a slow breath. "I do, too. Sure, we never got along real great, but he was always there, solid and reliable. It's like there's this hole in the world now." "Yes." Kasha watched the fire leap to catch a new branch, transforming it from inert wood to a twisting, glowing dragon. "I've had moments of joy, Willem. Those, too." "Good to hear." Willem leaned forward to add larger sticks to the growing fire, his jaw set in a hard line. "Don't think much of this sun goddess, though. It seems damn cruel." "Lady Amaterasu, the sun, is neither kind nor cruel. She simply is. Elemental and pure." "Maybe." Willem's expression softened again. "I'd be willing to help you find some of those moments of joy. As many as you wanted." The ache around his heart became a stabbing dart. How could he bear it when Willem took a human lover again? He would, perhaps soon; he could not delude himself otherwise.

I wish I were a real boy. Where's that damn blue fairy when you need her? He managed a steady voice when he answered, "Thank you. I'll hold you to that." ****

The fire had died to coals when Willem woke on his back to fingernails combing through his chest hair. "Hey, there." "I woke you. I'm sorry." Something other than contrition lit those bright green eyes, though. He pulled Kasha, back in his human form, tight against him, the lithe, flexible body molding to his side as if it had always belonged there. Soft hair tickled under his chin when Kasha's head rested on his shoulder. He kissed the top of that dark head and slid his hand down to cup one perfect butt cheek, loving the way it fit in his hand. "Kash?" "Hmm?" Kasha nuzzled at his throat. "Why are some of your, um, parts still cat parts when you look human?" "Ah." Kasha levered up on one elbow to look into his face, that odd, wary look back in his eyes. "It took a bit for you to ask. Are you displeased with the cat parts?" "Hell, no. Excited, not turned off or freaked out. I was just curious." The little demon relaxed against his shoulder, letting his fingers wander over Will's chest, circling his nipples. "The demons from my home can often take two, sometimes more, forms. But it is in the nature of being demon that one retains aspects of each form in the shifting. The kitsune cannot lose her lovely triple fox tails. The Kiyohime will always have a serpent's tongue. I still have the ability to speak and walk upright as a cat, and retain certain, as you put it, cat parts as

a human." "Guess that... makes sense." "I am what I am, dear Willem." Will chuckled at the Popeye drawl Kasha put in his voice and allowed those lovely fingers to wander his body a little longer. When Kasha reached for his zipper, though, Willem grabbed his wrist. "No, hon. Not tonight." Kasha raised his head, eyes wide and blinking. "Have I done something?" "Something wrong? No." Willem put a hand to the back of his neck and guided him back down. "Just want to hold you. That okay with you?" "I... " Kasha squirmed in his arms, rubbing his groin against Willem's jean-clad hip. Willem swatted his ass, the crack echoing in the cabin. "Stop that." "You're a closet control freak, do you know that?" Kasha subsided, clearly sulking. "I'd be lying if I said no," Willem said on a soft laugh. "But just in bed." He tipped Kasha's face up to give him a tender kiss, relishing the feel of those soft lips pressing and stroking his own. A fierce protectiveness surged through him when he gazed into those green eyes. He wanted to shield Kasha, from the world, from his pain, from his past. "I just think you've had people use you. For way too long. I need you to know I'm

not. It's nice to have someone just hold you, not expect anything, isn't it?" Kasha took so long to answer, he thought it was one of those times his question was being ignored. With a little snuggle, Kasha settled again, sliding his arm around Willem's waist. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, it is."

Chapter 6: Machinations Gone Awry The incessant chip-chip of a cardinal woke Kasha the next morning. He fought the urge to go out and kill the bird for breakfast, knowing Willem might be upset if he woke to see his cat devouring a ball of scarlet feathers. Instead, he waited, ears twitching in annoyance, while he distracted himself with the delectable sight of Willem waking. The slow stretch of that long, hard body and the bulge of morning erection under denim nearly drove him mad, but he behaved and kept his paws to himself. "I fixed your shirt." "Oh, thank you." Willem sat up with a yawn, and then did something so close to a cartoon double take that Kasha snickered. "You... how?" "Magic, dear boy. It's a small magic to sew on buttons." Willem picked up the shirt with a dubious look. "So will the buttons pop off when the spell wears off?" "I certainly could spell the thread to unravel at a delightfully inappropriate moment. Do you want me to?" "Ah, thanks, but no." He waited while Willem went out to brush his teeth and wash up in the stream. Teeth chattering when he came back in, Willem hurried back under the blankets and started the fire with shaking hands.

Today, it had to be today. Constantly chilled and living off canned food, Willem would soon become ill. While he could still weave formidable magic, his ability to heal had been taken from him. And then what would you do? Carry him

down the mountain on your back? Dump him at the nearest ER? No, he wouldn't let it come to that. Although, a bit of a manufactured predicament, well timed, just when a certain witch's grandson happened by... It was time to begin moving the players into place. "I think I'll go hunt for myself this morning. Just for a little variety. You don't mind, do you?" Willem looked surprised, but not offended. "No problem. Don't tangle with any skunks while you're out there. Or foxes." "Please. I'm not a kitten, Willem." "Don't hand me that. Even experienced hunters get caught off guard. Just say you'll be careful." "I do try." He padded over to rub noses with Willem in a cat kiss, and then left the cabin before he could change his mind. What he did today was to secure Willem's place in the world. That was the thought he had to keep wedged tightly over all the others. If he thought about the possibility of failure, or perhaps even spectacular failure and his own death, or even about Willem in someone else's embrace... The task at hand, he had to concentrate on that to the exclusion of all else. Distracted thoughts bred mistakes like rabbits. He hurried through the woods, darting through dense

thickets of elderberry, his boots stirring up the scent of wild mint as he crossed clearings. Foxes and skunks were the least of his worries. He could communicate with them, calm them, and gain safe passage. What he would face later this day, he feared there was no bargaining with. His heart slowed in its rapid staccato when he glimpsed the slate roof of the witches' home through gaps in the brush. The yellow house gleamed in the morning light, welcoming and safe. Some of the peace of the place emanated from the wards of protection surrounding it, certainly, but much of it came from the good hearts that lived there. That peace bolstered both his courage and his resolve. If he met disaster today, he wouldn't leave Willem bereft and abandoned. The witches were, though they didn't know it yet, his insurance policy. He spotted the eldest working in the garden, perched on a low moveable bench, carefully harvesting rosemary. He checked his fur for burrs, smoothed his tail, and buffed the shine back into his boots with the back of one paw. Presentable and outwardly calm, he crossed the lawn with a purposeful stride, one that said he brought news. "Mistress Natt! Good morning!" He waited until the old woman turned and raised a hand in greeting before he approached. It was never wise to startle an old witch. "Good morning, pretty kasha. How are you and your master today?" "Both quite well, ma'am." The chill clung to the morning,

but it was no longer unpleasant, so he settled to the grass beside her. "Would you like me to speed up the work? I could, if you like." The old woman laughed, a sound much younger than her appearance. "No, dear, but thank you. I don't like to introduce unknown variables into my spells or my cooking. Besides, I enjoy working with the plants. As long as I can, I intend to." "Ah." She snipped a few more branches, the snick-snick of her garden shears a soft percussive counterpoint to the birdsongs. "While I wouldn't mind you coming for a social visit, I doubt that's why you're here. What can I do for you?" "I'd like nothing better than to come just to visit. Maybe after today, I can." "Not nice to keep an old lady in suspense, you know." "Sorry." Kasha gazed up at her face, kind and impassive for now. He was certain her anger wasn't something he wanted directed at him, though, so he hurried on. "I explained your problem to Willem. He's more than willing to help." "That's good news. Did he have any suggestions?" "Yes. He believes the quicker we act, the more likely we will be to dislodge your unwanted houseguest. What he suggests is that you let him lead the assault. Give him just a few minutes to contain the monster, and then you and your family come along a pre-agreed route at a pre-arranged time. If all goes well, you'll be there in time to help him destroy it. If something goes wrong, we'll know where you are

if he needs help." Natt gazed at the woods with a determined frown, and then she nodded. "So Ettie, Morgen and I--" "Teddy, too." "Teddy?" "Yes. We can't risk leaving him alone at your house, unprotected if things do go wrong and the ogre wants to harm your family. I take it he lacks the natural magical abilities the three of you have?" "He does, poor boy." Natt sighed. "The men in our family have never been magically strong. We can ward him, but you're right. If he's alone, he's vulnerable. How does your Willem plan on containing the ogre?" "He doesn't share such things with me, ma'am. I can only ask you to let us try." She sat so still, he thought she might have turned to stone. When she suddenly turned toward him, he twitched in surprise. "Let's go in. If Ettie and Morgen agree to it, we'll set up time and route." Kasha would have liked to believe his charming personality won them over, but he suspected it had more to do with their assumption regarding Willem's prowess as a wizard. In their estimation, he had snatched a kasha from the winds of fate to serve him; therefore, his magical strength must be prodigious. Regardless of the reason, he had their agreement and the details worked out within half an hour.

Now for Willem... He hated to deceive them, most of all Willem, but he certainly couldn't tell his heki-sama that the nice ladies across the mountain expected him to battle an ogre, nor did he want Willem anywhere near the monster. The ogre he would take care of himself. Though no clear plan occurred to him yet, he was certain something would strike him at the right moment. He hoped. **** "You want to do what?" Willem laughed. "I honestly don't see what's so funny. It's a lovely day." Kasha sulked by the fireplace, obviously offended. "Sorry, hon. I just never thought... I mean dogs ask to go for walks." That got him a low growl. Not the right thing to say,

either. "It's not that I don't want to." Willem forced the laughter from his voice and expression. "You just took me by surprise. I haven't had any lover ask if I wanted to go for a walk in... well, maybe never." That at least got him a glare over the shoulder. "C'mon, sweetheart, tell me I'm forgiven, grab your hat, and let's go." Kasha shook his ears, took his time cleaning a paw, and finally rose to his hind legs. "Fine. I forgive you on one condition." "Which is?"

"No more dog comments." Willem held up both hands in surrender. "Never again." Standing, even with the little cowboy hat on, cat-Kasha only came up to his waist. The weird factor in this relationship just kept going up a notch every time he blinked. He had to suppress the urge to scoop Kasha up and carry him, probably not a good idea since he was in such a prickly mood. Sun stippled the leaves and created puddles of vibrant yellow and red on the forest floor. Despite the odd situation, Willem felt his heart lift. He actually whistled as he walked. Kasha had been right, as he was about most things. Better to be out here than to brood inside over where he should go apply for a job. "Willem... " He glanced down, but Kasha still stared straight ahead. "Yeah?" "If we become... separated for some reason, if I'm no longer with you--" "What are you saying, Kash? Are you leaving me?" Now Kasha looked up, green eyes huge with some emotion. "No, no, my dear boy. Not intentionally. But things occur. Accidents happen. If by some chance you find yourself alone, I'd like you to go to the Englestads. They don't live too far from here. Can you remember that name?" "Englestad? Sure. I think I know the house. Big, yellow one? They friends of yours?"

"That's the one, Willem. Please go there if you're in trouble and I'm not... available. Can you promise me that?" "You're scaring me." Kasha stopped on the path, removed his hat, and gazed up at Willem with a pleading expression, his pupils nearly swallowing his eyes. "All right, knock off the cute, sad kitty face. I promise." "Thank you." The hat returned to its place and Kasha continued walking, as if the conversation had never taken place. Willem shook his head, going back to scanning the woods. Amazing that this high up some wildflowers still bloomed, yellow spots of wood sorrel and foxglove in protected thickets and even a few splashes of orange where late blooming butterfly weed still flourished. They walked downhill to where their stream widened to a fast-running creek, peppered with rocks and unexpected depths. The mountain road ran nearby, up the embankment, but they went down to visit with the ever-talkative stream. Kasha leaped out onto a flat boulder near the bank, and then jumped across to a smaller rock farther out in the stream. "You sure you want to do that? You slip, you'll get soaked." Somehow, the snort reached him above the noise of the stream. "I don't slip."

Probably not, but you'll be one pissed-off kitty demon if

your fur gets wet. Concerned that Kasha might even slip where the deeper water would sweep him into the current, Willem followed. It suddenly felt like a long weekend off from school, when he and his brothers would go off into the woods to ramble and rock hop. "Slow down!" Willem laughed and followed more cautiously. A sound reached him, strangely clear over the rush of water. Dogs barked. Not only barked, but bayed, the sound of a pack in full cry. Dear God, if a pack of wild dogs caught sight of Kasha, things would get ugly. The dogs shouldn't be agile enough to use the rock path, though. "Kash! Stay there! Let me get to you!" Out in the middle of the stream, Kasha shouted something he couldn't make out. He had stopped, so Willem concentrated on getting to him before the dogs could spot him. If he slipped Kasha under his coat-He stared in horror as the dogs broke from the trees. The size of Shetland ponies, they barreled toward the river, sleek coats glowing an infernal blue, saliva fire dripping from their jaws. "Holy fuck," he whispered as the pack leader reached the stream. The hellhound ran right across the top of the water, his pack in close pursuit. "No! Dammit! Kash!" Willem turned to place his body between this oncoming nightmare and his little demon lover. He threw a rock at them, yelling so loud his chest hurt. The dogs came on without

hesitation, as if he were invisible. They swept right past him-through him. Shocked, he backed a step and felt his foot slip. Arms windmilling, he crashed into the water. A sharp shock against his skull told him he'd smacked his head. What a

stupid way to die. ****

"Willem!" Kasha's heart turned upside down and forgot how to beat when his lord's head hit stone. Yes, he had intended the hellhound illusion to be startling. Yes, he had wanted Willem to be soaked and chilled just in time for the Englestads' car to come by. But this... great Raiju no, not this! He shivered into his human form and plunged into the water, naked as he was. While he was a dreadful swimmer, the water wasn't deep in most places and plenty of rocks offered themselves as footrests and clinging spots. He halfswam, half-waded, desperate to reach Willem before he slipped underwater. The stream might be less than three feet at its deepest, but an unconscious man could drown in a three-inch puddle. A wild grab got him a handful of red-blond hair. He heaved, pulling Willem to him, cradling his head against one bare shoulder. "Forgive me, forgive me, oh, my poor Willem," he whispered as he picked his way to shore. He hauled on the back of Willem's coat to pull him onto the bank. His lord still breathed, thank all the gods. The lump

on the back of Willem's head didn't seem too severe. With quick tugs, he yanked off the waterlogged boots and soaked clothes. He sent heat through his palms to dry Willem's coat and draped it over his now naked body. Slightly chilled was one thing, dying of exposure quite another. The one thing he hadn't anticipated had thrown his plans all askew. Willem had come too far out into the stream, had put himself in a precarious position, because he was hell bent on saving his kasha. My Willem, why did you have to

be so brave? A prickle of force tugged at his mind. The Englestads approached down the road. He shook himself back into his furred form and dashed for the ribbon of asphalt above the embankment. Ideally, he would have liked nothing better than to get Willem safe and forget the ogre for a day or two. But the monster would have felt him when he conjured the hellhounds. Delay put them all at risk now if the ogre decided he was a threat. Waving his hat, he leaped onto the road. "Mistress Natt! Mistress Ettie! Help! Please!" Van tires squealed, gravel flying, as Ettie swung the vehicle over onto the shoulder. Englestads, all four of them, piled out with varied expressions of confusion and concern. "What's happened?" Ettie called out, short and sharp. Kasha twisted his hat between his paws, and then pointed down the embankment. There was no need to manufacture the anguish in his voice as he blurted out, "It's

Willem. Please, please help him. Magical creatures attacked. He fell. He... " Morgen's hands flew to her cheeks. "Is he hurt?" "Yes, he--" "How did this happen?" Natt asked, her forehead creased in evident concern. "He was trying to protect me," Kasha told her truthfully, his voice soaked in misery. "He's on the bank." Teddy leaped forward. "I'll go get him, Gram. You girls stay up here." "Teddy, wait!" Natt cried out. She turned to Kasha when the young man hesitated. "Are the creatures gone?" "Yes." She waved to Teddy to go on. He crashed through the brush with a good deal more enthusiasm than grace, and they soon heard him swearing and grunting down below. When he reemerged, he had Willem in a fireman's carry over his shoulders, the coat in Teddy's hand. "Okay, not like I mind, 'cause he's totally hot, but why's the guy naked?" Kasha gazed at his feet, partly out of shame and partly so he didn't have to look at Teddy holding Willem. "He was soaked through. The water is frigid." "Oh, got it. It's not the way I'd want him on top of me but I'll t--" "All right, get him in the car, Teddy. Pull the blankets out of the back for him." Natt took a step toward the car as well,

but stopped when Kasha didn't follow. "Is something wrong?" "I--things have been set in motion. I need to go on ahead." "Certainly not. Your master's hurt. You're both coming back to the house." He stepped closer, speaking for her ears alone. "It must be finished, Mistress Natt. It must be done now. Follow after me or take him back to the house, but I must see this through." A little whimper caught in his throat. "Please take care of him." She bent to take his head between her hands. She kissed his nose and stroked his ears. "He'll be all right, little one. Don't worry." The conviction with which she said it allowed him to relax to the point where he didn't feel as if his bones would jump from his skin. All three women were healers. They would look after his Willem. He glanced over to the car and quickly tore his gaze away. Willem lay across the backseat wrapped in a tartan blanket, his head and shoulders cradled in Teddy's lap. This

was what you wanted, you ninny. Willem will wake up in those strong arms and see that handsome face bending over him. It couldn't be more perfect. So why did he feel so cold and angry watching the two of them together? As if she sensed his tension, Natt said softly, "It's not wrong to worry over someone you love."

"I don't--" He stopped himself before the lie could leap out. "Thank you. I have to go." She released him and turned to make her slow way back to the van. "Be careful, little one." He couldn't help but wonder if she meant more than his impending meeting with the ogre. **** The jostling motion penetrated first. Then the hum of a motor. Willem bunched his fists and fought toward consciousness. Intermittent shadows flitted across his eyelids. Car. Driving. He cracked his eyes open on a miserable groan. God, his head hurt. A handsome face swam above him, smiled. "Hey, there! Welcome back," the young man said with enough enthusiasm to make Willem squeeze his eyes shut again. "What the hell?" he whispered. "Who are you?" "I'm Teddy. Teddy Englestad. You smacked your head pretty good." Englestad... Willem surged up, fighting the blanket tangling around his limbs. "Kash! Where's Kasha?" An old woman turned in the front passenger seat. "He was safe when we saw him, but he's run off ahead to deal with the ogre." "Ogre?" Willem murmured, feeling faint and ill. "Yes, the ogre who lives in our other house. You were apparently battling some creation of his by the stream? Your

magic against his?" "I... how hard did I hit my head?" He let Teddy guide him back down because sitting up was making him nauseous. "I can't follow any of this and I don't know anything about an ogre." The old woman gave him a long, hard look, though when she spoke again, her voice was gentle. "You aren't a witch or sorcerer of any sort, are you?" "What? Me? No. Why would--" He broke off when the realization hit him. "Kasha told you I was, didn't he?" "Yes." "I hate to say this, and I don't know why yet"--he rubbed a hand over the side of his aching head--"but I think we've all been had." "I just had the same thought." The old woman nodded. "I don't know why either. But I think your little kasha has just put himself in terrible danger."

Chapter 7: I. M. Ogre, Esq. Kasha pulled threads of magic to him in desperate haste as he ran. Brown, orange and yellow from the leaves, dark gray from bark, deep green from the pines, all went into weaving a cloak. If he could get into the house undetected, he might have a chance. Even so, he had to hurry. He felt the ogre's interest turn his way, a frighteningly powerful tendril of magic seeking after him.

I am leaves. I am wind in the branches. I am moss and crickets. He came upon the house more suddenly than anticipated, since he had been concentrating so hard on being invisible. It shocked him into stillness. He watched, ears twitching, trying to determine if he had been detected or if magic traps guarded the house. The house was lovely, just the thing. Slate blue siding gave it a more masculine look than Mistress Natt's yellow house, and it was a bit smaller, perhaps three bedrooms instead of five, the perfect size for two. He could picture Willem lounging on the back porch while he brought out morning coffee, kneaded the muscles in his broad shoulders, settled in his lap... Enough. He had no time or energy to spare for pleasant daydreams. He proceeded cautiously, skirting the edges of

the trees to approach the house from its blindest side where only one window on the second floor overlooked the yard. A line of hemlocks ran from the trees, adding extra cover for his approach. He gained the porch, treading light as a blade of grass. One of the windows had the slightest imperfection, not quite plumb with the sill. He gathered his magical cloak close, concentrating on small insect thoughts, flattened his body to the width of a stinkbug, and slipped inside. The moment his boots hit the floor, he knew he had made a terrible mistake. The lines of a spell trap whipped around the house, sealing it as if a giant roll of plastic wrap had been pulled tight around the structure. Heart pounding, he dived under a nearby sofa. Ogre musk permeated the air, the dreadful stench an unholy mix of decaying onion and mildewed burlap. Somehow, other ogres found it enticing. Kasha fought not to bring up the last week's worth of food. The monster was most definitely in residence, and a ghastly, garish residence it was. Metallic print wallpaper graced the walls of the living room, along with a truly ugly gold-toned wall sculpture. The furniture had been purchased on the bigger-is-always-better side of taste with loud, mismatched prints and far too much black lacquer and red leather. Footsteps rang in the front hallway. Kasha crouched, reaching desperately for magic to weave a lightning strike. The threads eluded him. Apparently, the trap exuded a

strange magic miasma that scattered his attempts at spell weaving. He believed so until a sharp pain lodged behind his right eye. My promise... He had sworn to Willem not to use his magic for harm and he was physically incapable of breaking a promise to his heki-sama. Damn, damn, and damn again. If only he had left himself a loophole, as he had when he promised Willem his plans wouldn't hurt any humans or animals. He had specifically omitted ogres from that second promise. "You may as well come out, you know." The ogre rounded the corner dressed in a silk Armani three-piece and alligator shoes, the attempt at classy dressing ruined by the hideous orange and purple tie and the fact that the jacket sleeves were too short. Seven feet tall, this ogre was not one of the obese ones. Reminiscent of cartoon versions of death, he was gaunt and hollow eyed, with long white hair caught at the nape of the neck, slicked down with some noxious-smelling hair product. He settled in one of the red leather armchairs, showing rows of sharp, yellow teeth when he smiled. "Come out, little pretty. Let's see you." The ogre leaned back, hands folded over his stomach. "If you were human, I would have called the police. Breaking and entering. Trespassing. Tsk. What would your master think?" Unable to think of a reason not to, Kasha crept out from under the sofa and took a seat on the opposite armchair. The leather felt cheap. He curled his tail up into his lap in

distaste. "Such a pretty kasha," the ogre crooned. "I might be tempted to fuck you before I eat you. Of course, I'll have to slice off your adorable little cock and balls first. Nothing better than kasha penis for weather spells." The casual, urbane civility was much more frightening than a roaring, drooling monster. Kasha shifted uncomfortably, wanting very much to remain attached to his private parts. "Did you think you could take me unawares?" The ogre's smile widened, showing a disturbing number of jagged teeth. "I sensed a kasha in residence the moment I moved here. I felt your power return to you when you were claimed. Poor little kasha. All that magic and it's merely at the beck and call of some idiot human. What does your master want with me? Does he think I have a hoard of gold in the basement?" Kasha brushed a paw over his tail, trying to appear as calm as his host and jailer. "Actually, no. It's the house that interests him. Apparently you've stolen it from a friend of his." "Stolen? Please be careful with such words. They could be considered libelous." He flicked his fingers and a folded sheaf of paper appeared in his hand. "I have the legal deed to this property, free and clear, from the bank which held the remainder of the mortgage. Would you like to glance through it to satisfy your, no doubt, overactive feline curiosity?" Kasha took the papers gingerly from dubiously clean hands ending in black talons. He had his doubts if a bank

could truly grant such property rights prior to seizing land in a foreclosure, but the documents certainly were impressive and would no doubt cause a tangled legal mess in civil court. He had to suppress a snicker at the grantee named in the deed, a Mr. Ignacious M. Ogre, Esq. Does no one possess

the imagination for good names any longer? He folded the deed and placed it beside him on the chair. "It certainly looks in order. I must congratulate you on your foresight and your considerable intellectual prowess." The ogre preened under the praise and the seed of a plan sprouted in Kasha's mind. He heaved a tragic sigh. "I suppose I've made the effort for my master in vain. I've been outflanked, and will neither gain him what he sought, nor be able to return to him." "That is a shame. You will make a satisfying meal, if it's any consolation." Kasha tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Somewhat gratifying, under the circumstances. Ah, well. I've had a long life. Even the mountains crumble eventually." "Well said." "I can't help a few nagging bits of curiosity, though... " "Oh?" He slid off the chair and set his hat on the seat. The ogre's eyes narrowed, so Kasha explained, "I'd rather you didn't eat the hat, if it's all the same to you. It was a gift and not part of my claiming." "Of course. I understand." The ogre waved his claws for

him to continue. "I've known a number of ogres throughout the centuries, though certainly none as accomplished and powerful as you. I've heard that"--he nearly said older ogres, but caught himself in time--"more experienced ogres are able to change form. Is this true?" The ghastly smile grew indulgent as the monster steepled his fingers. "Quite true, little pretty. I suppose you'd like to see?" "If it's not too much trouble." The ogre's chair squealed in protest as he rose. He slipped out of his jacket and stepped to the middle of the room where he presumably had more space. The air around him shivered, as if the chilly room had developed a sudden heat shimmer. He raised his arms, the lines of his body blurring. A moment later, a black lion the size of a grizzly bear stood where the ogre had been. The floorboards trembled when the lion roared, and Kasha let out a convincing squeak of fear as he leapt to the top of the black lacquer buffet. The lion chuckled, a horrid, choking sound. "Poor little kasha. You're not as brave as you pretend, are you?" Kasha made a show of shaking down his fluffed-up fur and cleaning his paws as if he were annoyed with his skittish reaction. "I was simply surprised. Of course, it's easy to shift to something so big. It's a simple thing to pull mass and magic to you to enlarge your shape. A lion. Naturally, a lion

would be easy. I'm sure it's much harder to change form to something smaller, like a rat. Where do you put all the extra mass? How do you hold onto the disparate components until you take your own form back?" His irritated commentary earned him another chuckle. "It's not so hard once you've reached a certain level of expertise," the lion growled. "A rat? Don't insult me. I can do far better than that." Again, the air shimmered, the lines of the lion's body growing indistinct. Kasha kept his gaze glued to the shifting form, waiting, every muscle tense. When a shrew finally sat on the carpet where the lion had stood, he discarded all attempts at conversation. With a low growl, he pounced, landed directly on the shrew, and broke its back. While this didn't kill the ogre, it certainly slowed him down, giving Kasha time to devour him. The shrew squeaked, trying to wriggle out from under his paw despite the broken spine. Kasha had to tamp down hard on his natural inclination to play with his food. Any delay would give the ogre a chance to heal and shift again. He bent his head and took the tiny, squirming body into his mouth.

Great Raiju, ogres taste worse than they smell. He crunched through the skull and swallowed the body whole. "And that, I suppose, is that," he said to the now-empty room, quite pleased with himself. He turned, thinking he should open a few windows to let

in some fresh air. A sharp pain lanced through his stomach. I

guess ogre doesn't agree with me. Though he tried to ignore it, the pain increased as he walked toward the window. On his third step, he collapsed to his knees, gasping, clawing at his midsection with both paws. It felt as if a heated stone were expanding inside him. The ogre... the ogre was trying to regain his form while inside him. Desperately, he pulled threads of magic to him to build a cage, gray threads from steel I-beams, dark brown from the hardwood flooring, white from the heat-resistant ceramics in the kitchen, weaving a bright sphere of magic inside his own body to contain his assailant. Something ripped inside. Ribs creaked and then snapped. Blood ran from his nose and mouth. Trembling, he shifted to his human form to give his body more room as he fought to enclose the ogre, who now felt the size of a watermelon inside him. The sphere closed tight just as he felt the expansion pressing on his heart. He struggled to breathe, concentrating on shrinking the enclosure. Little by little, he gained ground, a little more breathing space, a little less white-hot agony with every millimeter the ogre lost. Perhaps it was only in his imagination, but he thought he heard the monster shrieking as he forced it down to the size of a mouse, then a pea, then a dust mite. His promises allowed this attempt at extermination, most likely since selfpreservation did not fall under willful harm. At last, he felt the

ogre's magic extinguish, its oppressive presence erased from the world. The scurrilous property deed, still lying on the chair, vanished in a puff of sulfurous flame. Kasha lay on the floor, bleeding, his breaths heaving in and out in rattling gurgles. Victorious one last time, he had paid a heavy price. I do hope Willem comes soon. It would

be good to see him once more. **** Willem wrapped the blanket close around him, staggering from the van before it rolled to a complete stop in the blue house's drive. "Wait!" Natt called after him. "Teddy, stop him!" Strong arms closed around him, holding him up as much as keeping him from moving forward. "You said he's in danger! I have to find him!" Natt hobbled up, shaking her head. "You can't just go haring off into an ogre's house, dear. Your death won't help him much." She stood still, eyes closed. A spark of light caught Willem's eye and he glanced down to see the top of her cane glowing. "What's she doing?" he whispered to the younger Englestads. "Gram's looking. Seeing what's happening inside," Morgen whispered back. "Don't worry." Teddy gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Nothing gets by Gram."

"I don't know about that, dear. I still can't find your amplifier cable." Natt's eyes flew open. "But the ogre's gone." "He... left? Ran away?" Willem took an unsteady step forward. Since Teddy allowed it, he kept moving toward the house. "No, gone. He no longer exists." "That's got to be good, right?" Natt walked beside him, forehead creased in a frown. "I certainly hope so." The front door opened for them when Ettie muttered a few words over the lock. The stench that rolled out was appalling. "Kash?" Willem's stomach did a hard roll. Something terrible had happened. He could feel it. They made their way through the rooms in a tight knot, like children in one of those haunted houses set up at Halloween. Kasha wasn't in the front hall, the dining room, or the kitchen. He didn't answer Willem's increasingly anxious calls for him, ratcheting up the worry factor into the red zone. When they did find him, curled in a ball on the ugly, purple living room rug, Willem let out an anguished cry and flung himself to his knees beside Kasha. "God... oh, shit, he's bleeding!" Willem slid an arm under his head and shoulders and rolled him gently onto his back. Unconcerned for his own modesty, he pulled the blanket from around his shoulders and wrapped Kasha in it. "Kash?

Sweetheart? Can you hear me?" Kasha's eyes fluttered open, those beautiful green orbs dazed and clouded with pain. He smiled and rubbed his cheek against Willem's arm. "You did come. I hoped you would." "What happened? What can I do?" "I ate... " Kasha stopped to cough. More blood flecked his lips. "I ate the ogre. Wasn't the best thing for my insides." "You'll be okay, right? I mean, demons don't... you're not... " Kasha slid a hand out from under the blankets to cover the one Willem had resting on his chest. "My dear Willem, I'm dying." "No! You can't!" Willem cast back desperately through everything he knew, everything Kasha had told him. "You're still mine. I won't let you. I forbid it!" "There's no wriggling out of it. Not this time. You could hold me here a bit longer by force of will. But it hurts, Willem. So terribly. I want to stay with you. But I'm no longer whole." The lump in Willem's throat threatened to choke him. "No... Kash... I love you. Please don't leave me." A strangled chuckle caught in Kasha's chest. "Ah, now he says it. You should have my real name for such sentiments, Willem. Kasha demon is what I am. My name is Yorukaze, the night wind. Take off the boots, my dear. Let me go." "I can't lose you now, not now!" "I'm sure these nice ladies will help you. Let you stay here

to live safely, to create your beautiful works of art. And I think Teddy likes y--" Willem wrapped both arms around him and pulled him close. "I don't want Teddy. I want you. Kash... Yorukaze. Just you." "I'm so sorry." The little body in his arms shuddered. "To die by your side, the pleasure, the privilege is mine." Seriously? Lyrics from The Smiths? Now? "I know that one, too, hon," he whispered into his kasha's hair. "I thought you would." He gazed down into those feline eyes, the threat of tears stinging his own. So much agony there... He wiped the little trail of blood away from the corner of Yorukaze's mouth. "I can't keep you in pain like this. I wish there was something--" "Take the boots back, Willem. Do that last thing for me." His hands shook so badly, his vision blurring, it took some time for him to work the boots off without jostling Yorukaze too badly. "Do I have to say something?" Eyes drifting shut, Yorukaze whispered. "Tell me you release me. Tell me again you love me." "You need that second part for the spell or something?" "I just want to hear it again." Willem crushed him close with a strangled sound, half sob, half tortured laugh. "My kasha, my Yorukaze. I love you. I release you." A gentle hand touched his face, catching the tear that fell. "I love you, too, Willem. I'm sorry."

The hand fell away and Yorukaze let out a soft sigh as his body went lax in Willem's arms. His heart shattered on that last breath, all shame forgotten as he sobbed, kneeling naked on the world's ugliest carpet, with his dead beloved in his arms. **** Yorukaze watched from far above his body. It hurt to see Willem so heartbroken, those powerful shoulders trembling with anguish. He wished he could offer some comfort, but he was too far removed now. Death was supposed to be the end of pain, wasn't it? Why did he still ache for his darling Willem? "You have changed, my Yorukaze." "My lady?" Amaterasu approached, her golden kimono floating around her cloud slippers. "You have learned to see through eyes other than your own." "Ah. I think I understand you. I suppose I am free now, though I've never known who guides the soul guide when he dies. I am lost, my lady. I know not where to go." "You linger out of attachment. Your love for your last hekisama keeps you here." "I would it were otherwise. Better to watch over Willem as a ghost, though, than be separated from him." She touched his arm, or his approximation of an arm in the spirit world. "You have suffered long, my kasha. Perhaps too long. I cannot bear to see you languish as a shade. I give

you a choice." He tore his gaze from Willem, hope leaping in him. "What choice, my lady?" "You may return to him. I will heal your body so you may live in it again." "And the price? There is always a price, yes?" "There is a balance to all things, Yorukaze. I need not tell you so. You may return to him, but you will be human, with the needs and frailties of a human and a human's lifespan." Yorukaze turned his gaze back to the living world where Willem still wept over him. A little smile twitched at his lips. "I give you Arwen's answer, my lady." "Pardon?" "I choose a mortal life." "So be it." The dizzy plummet toward earth stole any thanks he wished to give her, the rush and plunge ending in a heavy thump as he rejoined his body. He gasped, his eyes flying open as his body arched in its struggle with the sudden renewed spark of life. Willem sat back in shock, hands running over his face and neck. "You're not dead? You're not dead! Oh, thank God, thank God!" "Goddess, actually," Yorukaze whispered. He still hurt and he was too weak to move more than his head. "She said I could stay. As a human, but I can stay." Willem kissed his face repeatedly. "However she let you,

oh, fuck, don't leave me again. I'll take care of you. We'll make sure you get better." Strong arms slid under him and he felt himself lifted as Willem stood. "My dear, you did just hit your head. Maybe you shouldn't be carrying me?" "Don't care. You're not heavy." "And you do know you're naked?" "Again, don't care. You're what's important right now, hon. Ms. Englestad? Can we take him someplace where there's a warm bed?" Natt came into view. "Come home with us, Willem. You both need some looking after right now. I have plenty of room." Over the next few days, Yorukaze confessed everything, how he had misled Willem, how he had lied to the Englestads. By the thunderclouds in Willem's eyes, he could tell his love was angry, but Willem strove to be gentle with him in all things while he recovered and didn't shout at him even once. Being helpless annoyed him. Having Willem's hands on him to move him, to feed him, to bathe him, did not. He felt only gratitude to have those large, strong hands touch him again, in whatever capacity. However, Willem did extract one last promise. "You have to be straight with me from now on, Kaz. No half-truths, no evasions, no lies, not even when you think it's to protect me. You want this to work, want a real relationship, you have to

be honest with me." Yorukaze made a face, though it was more for the T-shirt Willem had just forced over his head than the request. Willem laughed. "Don't scowl like that. You have to start wearing clothes, hon. Especially with winter coming. You're human now and you'll freeze." "It will hang on me and I don't like white," Yorukaze huffed as he let Willem help him into the armholes of the borrowed shirt. He moved like an old man still, but he could sit up and had begun to feed himself. "We'll get you clothes your size soon. Whatever color you want." "Black." He lay back, tired from the little bit of exertion. "And maybe red. I like red." "Okay, fine. But you're stalling. I'm waiting for that promise." He took Willem's hand, stroking his thumb over the callused palm. "You know if I give you a promise now, there's no compulsion to keep it. I could break it at any time, just like any other human lover." "I know." Willem leaned in to kiss his forehead. "We just have to trust each other. That's part of the whole human deal." "I promise. No more lies. No more deceptions." Yorukaze pursed his lips on a thought. "But if I should slip, would you do something for me?" "What?"

"Rather than shout at me, would you spank me instead?" Willem gave him a wink. "I'll spank you anytime you want, sweetheart. Any excuse to lay hands on that gorgeous little ass." Someone cleared his throat from the doorway. Teddy stood there, red-faced but grinning. "Hey! Hate to interrupt the tender moment and all, but you've got a visitor, Will." He tossed an express envelope on the bed. "And you got a package, Kaz." Package? Yurokaze turned it over in his hands and then set it on the nightstand when Will's visitor appeared in the doorway. He had to tamp down a smile when he saw the familiar figure. Gunther's brows were drawn together as they did when he was uncomfortable or confused. He clutched a brown paper grocery bag tight to his left side as if it held the key to the universe. "Gun!" Will strode around the bed to give his bother a back-pounding bear hug. "Good to see you!" He turned and waved toward the bed. "Kaz, this is my brother Gunther. Gun, this is Yorukaze, the one I told you about." He took Gunther's offered hand and managed a pleasant, "Nice to meet you. Willem's told me so much about you." The whole thing felt beyond odd, though, since he had known Gunther for over twenty years. "What's in the bag?" Willem asked as he settled on the edge of the bed. "Gun, don't stare." "Oh." Gunther tore his astonished gaze away from

Yorukaze to the bag as if he had forgotten it. "Sorry. You just seem... familiar. The bag. Right." He opened the top and pulled out a bottle of ginger ale and a box of tea biscuits. "Will said you were sick. These were the only things Will could stomach whenever he was sick." "That was very kind of you. Thank you." Gunther stayed for a few minutes, obviously uncomfortable. Knowing Gunther, it probably had more to do with being in a stranger's house than with meeting Willem's new boyfriend. When he got up to take his leave, he clapped Will on the shoulder. "Sorry about Puss. I know you loved that old tom." "I did, Gun, thanks. But he was more than twenty years old. How many cats do you know live that long?" The little misdirection was, after all, not a lie. Puss had died that afternoon in the blue house. What had been carried out alive in Willem's arms was neither cat nor kasha any longer. Will followed his brother out into the hall, where Yorukaze heard them whispering. At least his hearing was still sharper than most humans. "So, is he Chinese or something?" "Gun, for God's sake... " "I mean, he looks Oriental, but those green eyes." "Asian, dammit, Gun. Things are Oriental, not people. I think his family was from Japan." "Oh. Well. He's a helluva lot more polite than Joey.

Probably a hard worker, too." "Keep up the stereotyping and I'm gonna kick your ass so hard you'll be looking for it for a month." "I'm just saying, I think he'll be good for you. You look a lot better. Happier. And he's good-looking enough to be a model or something. Not that I notice that stuff." Willem snickered. "Thanks, Gun. I'll call you in a couple days." With Gunther gone, Yorukaze returned his attention to the envelope. He tore off the perforated strip and shook the package upside down. A rubber-banded packet of documents fell into his lap. "Willem? What is all this?" Willem put an arm around him. "It's you, hon. It's hard to live as a human without a paper trail." He worked the rubber band off with his free hand. "This is your birth certificate, your state ID, social security card, high school diploma... " "I didn't go to college?" "Sadly, no. You could, though, if you wanted." "I don't think it's necessary." He leaned back against Willem's chest. "Where did all this come from?" He had no need to look back at Willem to see his grin. "Natt has friends in low places, apparently. Go figure." "Ah." He leafed through the documents for a moment before the realization hit him. "I can get a job." "You could, I guess." Willem sounded doubtful. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to. I'll support us. Natt says we can live in the blue house. It needs some fixing up after the

last, um, resident, and I said I'd get everything right again for her. We'd pay her rent, of course, though she's not asking much. I could--" "No, Willem." Yorukaze put a finger over his lips to stop him. "I will get a job. You will do what you love. Haven't the Englestads already set up commissions for you?" "Well, yeah, but--" "And how will you fulfill these obligations if you stumble home every night exhausted from some menial labor job?" "Okay, but what would you do? You don't even know how to make change." "I can count. You can teach me. I'll find something I enjoy, Willem. Don't worry. I'll simply be my charming self. Who could say no?" Willem nuzzled at his throat. "Not me, that's for sure. All right, we'll try it your way for awhile." "That's all I ask. We can make adjustments as we go. As you know, I'm quite flexible." The world held no sound more beautiful than Willem's laugh.

Epilogue "Marsha? My ride's here! The safe's locked. Did you need anything else?" "Go, Kaz, we're done," the manager's voice drifted out from the stock room. "I'm right behind you. Careful going home, they're calling for snow tonight." "Yes, ma'am. See you Wednesday." He gathered up the bag with his new boots and shrugged into his coat. Willem had been horrified the first week he had worked at Shoe Heaven. Nearly his entire first paycheck had gone into footwear. After a stern lecture, Yorukaze had agreed to curb his "shoe habit" to once a month. He found he looked forward to the fifteenth of every month now. Morgen waved from the front of her Cherokee. She and Teddy both had jobs at the new mall outside town and took turns ferrying him back and forth. Someday he might learn to drive, but the thought terrified him. "Hey, handsome." She flashed her bright smile as he settled shivering into the passenger seat. "Ooo, what did you get? The loafers or the boots?" "Boots. The ones with the silver thread." "Nice." Her smile faded as she pulled onto the main road out of town. "I better warn you, Kaz. Doesn't sound like Will's

had the best day." "Oh?" "Yeah, Mom went by earlier to bring over some cookies and he was having a hissy fit about that swan sculpture. Can't seem to, you know, keep it up." She snickered. "It might be the only thing he's ever had trouble keeping up," Yorukaze said in a dry tone. "Ah, well. I'm sure I can soothe his frustration." "I'm sure you can," Morgen said with a wink. "Just didn't want you surprised if he's all growly." He gave her a quick thank you peck on the cheek when she dropped him off, and then he hurried inside to get out of the bitter cold. A metallic crash and a thunderous male bellow rose up from the basement where Willem had his workspace.

Oh, yes. Frustrated would be an understatement. Yorukaze shivered again, this time from anticipation. Willem's lovemaking picked up a hard bite when he had been in a temper, something Kaz craved desperately at times. The anger he would rather forego. The aftereffects could be delicious. "Willem? Are you all right, love?" he called out as he edged down the steps. A holocaust of graceful swans, made of bits of scrap metal joined together in amazing ways, lay about Willem's feet as if someone had shot them from the sky. He sat in a ladder-back chair, head in his hands, fingers fisted in his

hair. Yorukaze approached cautiously and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he wasn't shrugged off, he set both hands on that broad expanse and started kneading over-taut muscles. "Not the best day, I take it." "It sucked," Willem grated out. "Nothing I try is working. I want them to look like they're soaring over the marsh, not like swans on sticks." The hands unfisted and Willem let them fall into his lap. He seemed to be relaxing under the massage, so Yorukaze thought a little teasing might be safe. "Maybe you need a distraction. You might think of a solution while you fuck me, esp--" He broke off with a yelp when Willem seized his wrist and hauled him around to face him. Willem snarled through clenched teeth. "When I make love to you, I sure as hell don't think about anything else." Yorukaze struggled against the tight grip. He wanted to say something angry and biting, but the still unfamiliar sting filled the backs of his eyes and his throat felt as if someone had shoved a pipe down it. "No, oh, no." Willem's grip eased, though he snaked an arm around Yorukaze's waist. "Don't cry, Kaz. Oh, shit, please don't cry." A gentle tug tumbled Yorukaze into his lover's lap, where, naturally, he burst into tears. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Willem rocked him

and petted him, his anger apparently melted. "You were just trying to cheer me up. I'm a monster. I'm sorry. Don't cry, don't cry." He wrapped his arms around Willem's neck and allowed the sobs to rise from his belly for a few, precious minutes. After all the centuries of not being able to weep, it swept over him like a cleansing flood. Willem seemed to sense he was no longer the direct cause of this storm, and held him tighter as if he could protect Yorukaze from every agony of his past. In many ways, he did just that. When the sobs died to a few hitching breaths, he lifted his head from Willem's shoulder, wiping his eyes. "I'm not sure where that came from. Forgive me." "You all right, hon?" "Yes, much better." Willem set Yorukaze on the chair and dropped to his knees. "You know what I want now?" "Dinner?" "Soon. There's a roast in the Crock-Pot. It'll keep." "You want... " Yorukaze squirmed, his dress pants suddenly too tight as Willem continued to gaze up at him so intently. "Could you just tell me what you want?" Willem's hands caressed up his thighs and stopped at his waist to undo his belt. "Something I couldn't have before when you were a kasha." Nimble fingers made quick work of his fly, and then Willem slid a hand under his butt to lift him and pull his pants

and bikini briefs down to his knees. He took Yorukaze's burgeoning erection in his fist and gave it one slow pump up and down. "See? No spines. So now I can do this without hurting my tongue." Willem leaned in to lick up one side of his cock and down the other. Yorukaze's head thumped onto the back of the chair on a long moan. "And this." Gently, Willem rolled back the foreskin and took the engorged crown between his lips with soft suction. "And even this." Without further warning, he plunged down and swallowed Yorukaze whole. He cried out, his hips bucking up off the chair. Dear gods. He had never felt anything like this. The wet heat, the heavy suction Willem gave him as he pulled back up, drove him mad with lust. He dug his nails into Willem's arms as he thrust up, fucking Willem's mouth as hard as his lover allowed. Willem urged him onward with little moans and laps of his velvet tongue, making no sounds of protest when the head breached the ring of his throat. The tight constriction drew a wild cry from Yorukaze, one that gave way to a howl when Willem pressed against the smooth skin behind his balls. Black flecks whirling across his vision, he came hard, shooting down Willem's throat with such force, he wondered how the man stayed upright. He collapsed against the chair; Willem's hand on his chest the only thing keeping him upright, as Willem's sucking became softer and softer,

drawing the last pulses from him in little earthquakes. "Willem... oh, my love... " He was only half-aware as Willem put his clothes to rights and lifted him in his arms. He began to revive, though, as they came up the stairs and the scent of dinner reached him. Roast, potatoes... "Peas?" "You need your veggies." "But vegetable are for rabbits." "And humans. Would you rather brussel sprouts?" Yorukaze growled in disgust. "That's what I thought. Eat your peas and I'll even pay attention when you show me your new shoes later." He whispered in Willem's ear. "It's a new pair of boots." "Oh." Willem's heart beat a little faster against Yorukaze's palm. "Maybe you could model them for me, then?" "With pleasure." "And maybe you could keep them on when I take you to bed?" "My dear Willem, what else is a good pair of boots for?"

Author's Note The town of Honeybole, Pennsylvania is not, to my knowledge, a real town. It is, however, an amalgam of many such towns in Pennsylvania's former mining belt and does reflect their plight. While many towns in the eastern half of the state have undergone their own miniature renaissance by this time, many still struggle. It is the author's hope that helpful kashas will move into all of them someday.

Angel Martinez Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer of several genres. Her experiences as a soldier, a nurse, a banker, and an underpaid corporate drone give her a broad view of the world and a deep appreciation for the astounding variety of people on this small planet. She currently lives part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware and full time inside her head. She has one husband of over twenty years, one son, two cats, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate. To learn more about Angel, please visit: http://www.freewebs.com/angelwrites/ **** Don't miss A Different Breed, by Angel Martinez, available at AmberAllure.com!

Josh hunts vampires with relentless, cold precision until the night he confronts a gorgeous hunk of vamp in the woods outside Ithaca. Richard destroys all of Josh's prejudices about vampires in the first few moments of conversation, and the sexual sparks between them ignite almost as quickly. Richard offers the stability Josh never had, while Josh offers the healing Richard needs so

desperately. But it's nearly impossible just to walk away from a life of violence. An attack one evening leaves a friend in the hospital, Richard with a bullet through his chest, muttering about strange creatures, and Josh fighting to piece together what really happened. Are Richard's nightmare attackers real, or is Josh's favorite vamp losing his mind? Is there a reasonable explanation or has the hunter now become prey?

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