Sleight of Hand

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Sleight of Hand Copyright © 2008 by Katrina Strauss ISBN: 978-1-60504-272-5 Edited by Angela James Cover by Anne Cain All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com

Sleight of Hand Katrina Strauss

Katrina Strauss

The grinding screech of metal upon metal tore through the night, the ravine transformed into an inferno of heat, fire, smoke and screams. Clawing his way out of hell, Edwin grasped at dirt, rock and roots, anything which might give him purchase to pull himself up the slope. As the ground level came into view, he found more of the same horrors awaited him. He took in the scene from where he clung to the edge of the bluff, his ribs heaving from exertion against the hard earth. Through the smoke and the flames, a lone silhouetted form emerged. Untouched by the fire, the figure strode toward the precipice. Long hair billowed wildly in the hot draft. Was this the Reaper come to harvest his soul? If so, it was well-nigh time. Edwin feebly stretched one arm and opened his hand. The figure loomed closer, now lit rather than shadowed by the flames, until the man came to tower over Edwin. No matter how many times Edwin may have wished for this moment, he had never envisioned Death as being quite so handsome. Elegant, tapered fingers touched his, sending a liquid stream of heat coursing through him. So his fate would be death by fire; yet the flame which threatened to consume Edwin burned from within. He stared up into the man’s eyes, as black as night, and then they narrowed and glowed with a feral red gleam. Edwin gasped. In his shock, he released his hold on the gentleman’s hand. He slid, losing his footing, and felt himself plummet. As his stomach dropped with him, Edwin jerked and blinked. Disoriented, he found himself seated in the saloon carriage, the window blotted with a patch of condensation where his brow had been pressed to the cool glass. The train whistle sounded. The countryside flowed by, tendrils of fog curling through the patchwork of autumn trees which blanketed the hills in the distance. As the train crossed the trestle, Edwin tried in vain to recall the dream from just moments before. He was certain of one thing—he’d suffered the same dream the past several nights, the details escaping him each and every time upon waking.

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Edwin watched out the window with bated breath, releasing a quiet sigh once the train had traversed the span. His fear of bridges would truly be tested when they reached the mountains and crossed the newly constructed arch truss across the ravine. In the opposite bench seat, his mother knitted quietly. His younger sister, who sat directly across from him, indulged in her latest dime novel from the stack she’d bought from a depot newsboy. Though as well versed in the classics as he, Alma preferred easy reading for the long trip. From beneath puckered brow, her blue eyes skimmed the flimsy pages. For a fleeting moment, cloud-filtered light seeped through the window, suffusing the golden curls which spilled from the twist of ribbons at Alma’s scalp, faintly illuminating her porcelain features colored by the pink cupid’s bow of her lips. In her black dress trimmed with white frills, styled like the dress of a child but tailored to fit the form of a woman, it struck Edwin how doll-like his sister appeared, though he knew her to be independent, sharp-witted and anything but a doll. Taking this into account, he failed to understand why she’d so readily agreed to marry that old codger back east, their household’s financial circumstances notwithstanding. The promise of sunlight faded as the rolling clouds thickened and the rain picked back up. Edwin looked back to his mother dressed in funereal black faille, her needles gleaming as she deftly looped the yarn in and out to form a pattern. In a way, he envied the widow’s ability to lose herself in such a repetitive task while shutting out all around her; but of course as a man, he could not indulge in such feminine pastimes. He had attempted to read earlier that day, having gone so far as to sift through Alma’s books, but found himself unable to focus on even potboiler drivel. The ability to concentrate had often proved a challenge when the shadow of despondence crept upon him. Edwin had suffered such affliction as far back as he could remember, vacillating between bouts of ennui and restlessness. The two distinct conditions had merged around his fourteenth year, precipitated by the growth spurt that had stretched his already slender frame to five foot nine and lent him a deeper voice. At that point, his mother could no longer chalk up his behavior to childhood sensitivity and she’d had him committed to a secret asylum stay. The nerve doctor had diagnosed

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humoral imbalance due to an overactive spleen and prescribed a regime to cleanse Edwin’s system of black bile. Within a few months, the alienist had declared his young charge cured, as was generally the success rate with the wealthier patients who occupied the private rooms of the upper ward; however, his prescribed treatment of phlebotomy and purgative bitters had done little to ease Edwin’s mental state, and had served in reducing him to his currently frail weight of eight-stone-five. Now, just past his nineteenth year, Edwin found his nights vexed by insomnia, the rare spell of sleep interrupted by nightmares. Meanwhile, his waking hours were spent in a daze, his lethargy tinged with an inexplicable sense of despair that gnawed at the pit of his belly. Edwin bit back a sigh and resumed looking out the window. His focus gradually shifted from the scenery to his reflection in the glass, to the same blond curls and pallid complexion as Alma’s—features considered a welcome attribute in his sister, while for him they only contributed to his elders’ concerns regarding his fragile constitution. He felt the train decelerate. As they neared the next depot, Edwin noted with curiosity the lone carriage parked on the adjacent runaround track. With the luxurious styling of the private saloon, the car burst to life with color, making for a notable incongruity in the midst of the drizzle. Sir Marco Satori bold lettering declared, the name as brash and vivid as the flourish of golden-scripted curls. Intrigued, Edwin read the simpler text detailed below the name. “Illusionist, hypnotist and spiritualist extraordinaire,” Edwin murmured. A second byline stated that Satori also offered Tonics and restoratives to cure what ails you. “Pardon?” Alma asked, alerted by Edwin’s mumbling. Edwin glanced at her and tapped his finger on the glass. Alma looked out the window and uttered a tiny gasp, her cheeks flushing pink. Puzzled by her reaction, Edwin followed her gaze back to the private car. A gentleman had stepped out onto the rear platform. Tall and slender, he stood resplendent in frock coat, gloves and top hat, all black save for the cream white collar of his shirt and the scarlet cravat knotted at his throat. A straight sheen of ebony hair spilled

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from beneath his hat and draped his shoulders, framing smooth-shaven features. Sir Marco Satori, Edwin presumed, clothed in the costume one would expect of such a dramatic-sounding persona. A switch engine chugged toward the fore of the coach and began pushing it in reverse. Ah, so the magician would be joining the train, an event which Edwin found interesting in what had thus far been a tedious journey. As the coach was pushed closer to the saloon car, Edwin appraised the strange gentleman. He gauged the magician to be in his early to mid thirties, younger than one might expect of a spiritualist, a moniker Edwin associated with silver-haired ladies sipping tea whilst discussing such matters in a dim, dusty parlor cluttered with overstuffed furniture and bric-a-brac. On such a young man, the slightly outdated ensemble made for an appearance both eccentric and elegant, while his aloof demeanor lent him a mysterious appeal. The gentleman’s dark eyes flitted and directly caught Edwin’s gaze, and the corner of his lips curled in a slight smile. He touched one gloved hand to the brim of his hat and nodded. As Edwin returned the acknowledgment, he felt an odd dip and swell in his belly, as if the floor had dropped out from under him, followed by the realization that his face had grown as hot as Alma’s. The switcher pushed the private car out of sight. Mother continued knitting, unaware that either of her children exchanged guilty, blush-ridden glances, though Alma’s reaction to the striking figure could be justified. Edwin hooked a finger under his stock tie where the starched silk wrapped around his collar. Clearing his throat, he rose on unsteady legs, his tremulous state agitated by his recent diet of tea and nerves. “I’m going to watch the crew hook up the new carriage,” he announced. In truth, Edwin was in need of fresh air. Leaving his morning coat where it lay folded on the seat, he parted the white silk curtains and stepped from the private compartment into the parlor car. He made his way past the smoking saloon, a haze of smoke hovering above the compartment while deep, jovial laughter belted through the heavy velvet drapes. Bypassing the gentlemen’s water closet, Edwin opened the anterior door and stepped

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outside onto the vestibule. Unlatching the gate, he made the short leap to the depot platform. The wooden planks creaked in time with his shoe heels, his steps echoing back down to him from the vaulted platform roof above. In shirt sleeves and waistcoat, Edwin welcomed the damp, frigid breeze where it cooled his fevered skin. Ignoring the fact that he was shivering, he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned one shoulder against the support column. Haunted by some clouded aspect of his recurring nightmare, Edwin peered toward his left. He started at the idling tank engine and counted the head end cars in the consist. Two boxcars, a flat car boasting stacks of bricks, one gondola, an ore jenny, the horse car which was thankfully downwind and the padlocked mail car—all were accounted for. A small crowd milled about the next carriage in the train, the narrow black common car reserved for day trips and low-fare travelers. A young mother purchased three apples, a box of cold water crackers and a tin of sardines from the newsboy’s basket. The two rumpled urchins who clutched at her skirts appeared to have spent the previous night in their bench seats. Edwin returned his sights to the wide parlor car. Built of solid teak stained a burgundy wine, graced with high arched windows and embellished in gold gilt, the carriage’s outward appearance proved as luxurious as its interior. With age came money, Edwin supposed, and Alma’s fiancé had at least ensured their family a comfortable journey. With begrudging gratitude, he trailed his gaze down to the sleeper car—a new and welcome amenity for even the high-fare passengers—to the dining car, followed by the bay-windowed observation lounge that, up until that point in the train’s route, had remained the tail end of the consist. Several feet down the track, the small but sturdy switcher guided the magician’s car through the stub switch and backed down the main line. Once it had been released, a pair of crewman coupled and locked the coach to the rear of the observation lounge, making the private saloon the final car on the train. Edwin thought once more of the attractive gentleman he’d spied through the window only moments before.

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With a sigh, Edwin canted his head against the column, the cast iron cool against his brow. Eyes closed, he inhaled deeply. On top of his melancholy, he’d always struggled to suppress certain unnatural urges. Another man…I must not look upon another man like that… If his mother ever caught wind of his wayward musings, she’d have him committed for sure and—this time—the alienists would lock him up and throw away the key. “You’ll catch your death out here, my boy.” A smooth baritone washed over him, the timbre low and smooth, the accent refined and cultivated, its richness inciting the nervous flutter in Edwin’s stomach. Startled, Edwin stood straight. He peered up to see the tall mage lighting a slim cheroot, his eyes shaded by the brim of his hat. Waving the sulfur stick, the gentleman dropped it to the wooden planks. With a puff of his cheroot, he swept his gaze up the length of Edwin’s body in frank appraisal until their eyes locked. The other man’s visual exploration warmed Edwin’s body like the heat of a lingering caress, leaving his heart to drum against his sternum in time to the pulse sounding in his ears. Swallowing with an audible click, Edwin managed to maintain his casual pose. He shrugged, doing his damndest to ignore the flush of heat that crept up his throat and prickled his face. “Life’s but a walking shadow,” he offered glibly. “Ah, the boy quotes the Bard.” The mage chuckled. As he did, smoke curled from between a set of wide, generous lips. Wisps of smoke floated toward Edwin, the familiar scent of tobacco tinged with the sweet aroma of cloves. The gentleman took another drag from his cheroot, the tip flaring red with a light crackling sound. “In spite of Will’s sentiments, I’m of the mind that one need not seek death, but rather cheat it.” Taking off his hat, he bowed with a swoop of his arm, a quaint gesture of introduction which left Edwin feeling both charmed and awkward at once. “Sir Marco Satori, at your service.” A light gust of wind funneled down the platform. Free of his hat, the man’s satin ebony mane swirled gently around his face, save for two thin locks which hung down one side, each braided and wrapped with strands of scarlet silk interspersed by small glass

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beads and silver charms. Up close, the mage’s face was a study in perfection, his squared jaw and aquiline nose chiseled of finest alabaster. His eyes, set deep beneath a strong brow and framed with thick black lashes, were like polished gray obsidian, the pupil nearly indistinguishable from the iris. Straightening to his proud height, the mage returned his hat to his head and extended his hand, the gloved fingers long and elegant. “And what might your name be, this daring lad who would defy the elements?” Transfixed, experiencing a strange sense of recognition, Edwin took the proffered hand as polite fashion dictated. He noted the smooth texture of kidskin and a tingling current which traveled up his arm. “Ed-Edwin Matthews,” he stammered, though not from the cold but rather nerves, the older man’s intense, piercing gaze leaving him thoroughly unsettled. The mage released Edwin’s hand slowly, kidskin tracing flesh, the pad of the gloved thumb grazing Edwin’s inner wrist and following the swell of his palm. The intimate gesture sent the blood rushing to more than just Edwin’s face. Shifting his feet, clearing his throat, he nearly jumped from his skin as the man’s palm cupped his chin. That same thumb which had distressed him so now traced Edwin’s cheekbone. “When is the last time you enjoyed a full night’s rest, Master Edwin? The shadows under your eyes are most unbecoming to a handsome youth as yourself.” Edwin jerked, his face scalding at the man’s touch. The train whistle sounded, startling him further. The conductor called for all passengers to board. Edwin blinked, disoriented. Again, he found himself seated in the saloon carriage, greeted by the familiar patch of moisture where his brow had been pressed to the window. His pulse was still pounding as he smoothed his hand through his hair, the chinlength curls falling back to one side of his face as his fingertips reached the clipped layers in back. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rested his head back against the seat and inwardly willed himself to calm lest his outward behavior betray his predicament. The fear that his mother or sister might notice the erection tenting his tight trousers was enough to cool his unbidden libido.

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It was but a dream within a dream, Edwin assured himself. At least he hoped his strange experience could simply be attributed to a “false awakening”, rather than an indication that he’d finally lost his druthers once and for all. His shock at the imagined encounter faded, only to be replaced with disappointment. No man could be that beautiful, certainly not one who would ever touch Edwin in such an open or desirous manner. The whistle sounded again. Edwin’s stomach clutched with a light tug of pressure as the train lurched forward and began its steady acceleration. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of the switcher parked on the runaround track. So they’d indeed stopped at the depot, but Edwin had no idea if the magician’s car had been real or illusory. He considered asking Alma, but thought better of it. “Where are you going, Edwin?” his mother asked. “The privy,” he muttered, feigning a trip to the lavatory. He achieved the desired effect. His mother blushed and continued knitting while Alma, her shoulders shaking from suppressed mirth, raised her book to hide her face. Edwin well knew it was rude to embarrass his mother with blunt mention of such a crude, base task, but he wished to explore the train alone. He trusted that Alma had caught the hint. Edwin went the opposite direction of the gentlemen’s water closet, passing the other private compartments into the sitting area where a lively young trio engaged in a game of cribbage. They had invited Edwin to join them the day before but he’d politely declined; today they failed to even glance in his direction, which was fine by him. Reaching the car’s rear, he stopped and looked discreetly away as the door to the ladies’ lavatory opened. A stately silver-haired matron emerged. Chin tucked down, she coughed into her hand and hurried past him with a rustle of skirts and petticoats. Opening the rear door, Edwin paused, momentarily disoriented by the realization of movement and speed as the landscape rushed past him. Gripping the railing, focusing on his destination, he crossed from one open vestibule to the other, the tracks a blur beneath his feet through the crack where the train cars met.

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He entered the dining car where a few passengers were taking their tea. Edwin mumbled in obligatory greeting as he wove his way down the aisle between linen-draped tables. As he passed through the narrow side corridor by the galley, he watched the chef firing the billows beneath the stone oven. Edwin caught a succulent whiff of roast guinea fowl, rendering him amazed, as always, that the train’s chef could prepare such fine gourmet offerings in so limited a space. He repeated his rushed ritual of transferring from one car to the next. Only one more to go, Edwin thought as he entered the observation lounge. He stopped short at the sight of the lone dark figure who occupied a wicker seat toward the back. A service for two had been laid out on the small round table, the mage’s top hat and gloves resting alongside the tea tray. “Master Edwin,” Satori greeted with a flourish of his cheroot. Two large rings of silver and onyx flashed in the gasolier light. “I see you’ve taken me up on my invitation.” I must be dreaming again, Edwin thought. Yet he was certain that he was awake, and if that were the case, this was proving a rather interesting turn of events, not only in his journey but in his otherwise predictable life. Bolstered by curiosity, Edwin pulled out the chair and took the seat opposite the illusionist. Satori stubbed out his cheroot in the brass ashtray. With a clink of sterling against china, he poured two cups of tea before returning the pot to its tray. Mumbling a word of gratitude, Edwin added two lumps of sugar and a dash of cream to his drink. He stirred and tapped his spoon, then set it aside on the starched white napkin. Aware that Satori watched his every move, Edwin felt his cheeks go ruddy as they had in his dream. No, not a dream, for hadn’t Satori invited him to tea? And how else could the magician have addressed him by name? Perplexed, but willing to entertain possibilities no matter how illogical, Edwin blew softly across the surface of his tea and sampled a taste. He wished that he might stop blushing, mentally chiding himself for a reaction which befitted that of an enamored schoolgirl.

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Satori leaned back in his chair, cup and saucer in hand. “What ails you, young Master Edwin? Why can’t you sleep?” With the nagging suspicion that his thoughts already lay bare before the mage, Edwin oddly felt at liberty to speak. He found he wanted to speak, in fact, to someone, anyone who might, for once, listen. “My thoughts bombard me. When I do sleep, I have dreams. Horrid ones.” “Mere symptoms, my boy,” Satori stated, his voice soft, his manner firm, “not the cause. What truly ails you?” You ail me, Edwin wanted to say. And men like you. The handsome ones who look upon me as though I were a woman, that see through me as if I were transparent; sinful, beautiful men who recognize me for the deviant that I am and would lead me down their twisted path of vice. “This unexplained weight of sorrow,” Edwin answered quietly, staring into his tea, watching the miniscule ripples induced by the train’s vibration. “I constantly feel as though a close loved one has died, and yet I have no funeral to attend, no outlet for my grief. It has been much time since my father’s passing, so I know that cannot be the source of my affliction.” “Ah,” Satori said. “And because you have no one to mourn, you instead mourn the futility of life itself.” “Yes,” Edwin said, raising his head. “You understand.” Satori sipped his tea and smiled wanly. “I once suffered my own dark night of the soul, many years ago.” Leaning forward, he set his drink aside. He placed his ringed hand upon Edwin’s. Minus the barrier of kidskin, Satori’s touch proved more electrifying than it had in the dream, sending Edwin’s senses into a spin of attraction laced with denial. No, not a dream. Their meeting had been real, the beautiful man sitting before him now was flesh and blood… Edwin attempted to pull away but Satori held him by the wrist, his grip gentle but sure.

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“I could help, Master Edwin, with a combination of proven methods and…some new ones I’ve yet to try.” “And your price?” Edwin asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his face burning as he studied the other man’s hand upon his. He noted the silver pentacle set in the onyx upon the mage’s middle finger. From Edwin’s vantage, what should have been the topmost point of the star was aimed southward. Satori released Edwin’s hand, the absence of his touch leaving Edwin with an empty ache of longing rather than an expected sense of relief. The mage leaned back in his seat. Fingers steepled to his lips, he angled his head toward his shoulder. A gleam of promise sparked his dark eyes. “My price?” He smiled. “Why, nothing more than your willingness to experiment, Master Edwin.”

*** Edwin sat in the center of the tufted fainting couch, spine straight and hands folded primly in his lap. Satori rummaged through the bar selection, tracing a finger across the bottles rattling gently together in time to the clack of the train wheels. Edwin stole a glance at the older man’s backside. Satori had removed his coat, revealing his svelte frame of slightly broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. A strip of white silk shirt showed between the hem of his waistcoat and his tightly fitted trousers, the waistband hanging unfashionably yet enticingly low on the hipbone. Tearing his eyes away before they drifted lower, Edwin scanned the coach’s interior and was affected by the same vague sense of disorientation he’d experienced upon entering the carriage. The space was furnished with the usual trappings of a gentleman’s parlor, adorned in sumptuous velvets, silks, brocades and leather, in varying hues of black and red trimmed in ebony wood, the floor checkered with black and white tiles— nothing too out of the ordinary, if perhaps a bit ornate. What lent the private saloon such an unusual quality was that the dimensions seemed off. At first, the space had appeared a touch wider than it should have been. Now, as 14

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Edwin shook his head and blinked, the width seemed proportionate but the floor appeared to have been stretched a few feet longer. He considered that the checkerboard pattern created an optical illusion—at least that was the only logical explanation for Edwin’s skewed spatial perspective. His gaze focused back on the bar, a curiosity unto itself. The requisite bottles of brandy and rum and such were interspersed with various sizes, shapes and colors of bottles, jars and crockery, appearing to serve more as a pharmacopeia than a place to shelve liquor. “Ah, here we are,” Satori announced. He stepped from behind the curved, polished counter with a small blob-neck bottle in hand. On first appearance Edwin thought the glass to be black, but as the illusionist passed through the window light, Edwin noted it to be dark olive amber. Satori levered the wire bail stopper from the neck, releasing the pressure of the contents with a soft pop, followed by the tell-tale hiss of effervescence. He passed the bottle to Edwin, the brush of fingers sending another surge of current down Edwin’s arm, charging him to the very core. Clearing his throat, Edwin wafted the opened neck under his nose. The liquid bore no scent, the fizzy substance greeting him only with a light kiss of moisture across his upper lip. “Mineral water,” Edwin observed, one eyebrow lifted in question. “Lithia water, to be precise.” Satori took a seat in the wingback chair directly across from Edwin. “Bottled at a secret source for which the location may not be divulged. Widely touted as a hangover cure, although users have reported other benefits.” “Such as?” Skeptical, Edwin held the near-opaque glass up to the light. He thought back to the acrid tincture of black hellebore he’d been prescribed daily at the hospital, the one which had left him doubled over for the next hour while his gut clenched in painful spasm. After his discharge, he’d read up on the herb and learned it to be toxic. He’d concluded that the alienists were no worse than charlatans peddling snake oil.

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“A calming of the mind,” Satori replied, “a soothing of the nerves.” He crossed one leg over the other and propped an elbow on the chair arm. Two fingers denting his brow, he nodded. “Drink.” Deciding he had nothing to lose—and at the point where he would gladly welcome being poisoned—Edwin took a tentative sip. The bubbles fizzed pleasantly against his lips, while a scant taste of metal lingered on his tongue. Head tilted back, he continued drinking, allowing the cool beverage to trickle down his throat. Pausing to lick his lips, Edwin hazarded a glance at his would-be shaman and found the other man watching him intently. Despite the cool drink, Edwin felt the unwanted flush creep back up his neck. He shifted in his seat, and realized the bottle had gone dry. Satori rose. “Very good. Let’s get started, shall we, before we enter the tunnel.” As he took the bottle, their bare fingers brushed, jolting Edwin’s senses once again. Attempting to cover his reaction, he cupped his fist to his mouth with a feigned cough. His ploy failed. “My dear boy, this simply won’t do.” Satori set the bottle aside on the end table. “If the hypnosis is to be a success, you must relax.” Satori nudged between his knees and thumbed Edwin’s chin. Edwin had long grown accustomed to the closeness necessitated during a physical exam and had learned to tolerate the trained, analytical touch of the medical practitioner. However, Satori was no licensed physician, and his approach came off as decidedly more intimate. Discomfited, Edwin began to shut his eyes, but instead found himself captivated by the mage’s searing gaze. He flinched at the sensation of Satori unpinning his tie. His pulse raced at the whisper of crisp silk being slid from around his collar. “There, doesn’t that feel better?” Satori asked. “Yes,” Edwin conceded with a mumble, his neck free of the starched fabric. Satori opened the first few buttons of Edwin’s shirt. Edwin swallowed, his heart pounding now. The magician cupped his face in both hands and rolled his head from side to side, tracing the pads of his thumbs across Edwin’s cheekbones. He massaged the

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pressure points behind Edwin’s ears. Examining the throat nodes, his touch lingered at Edwin’s throbbing jugular. “There’s no need to be nervous, Master Edwin. Lie back and make yourself comfortable.” Cradling Edwin’s head in one hand, he eased Edwin sideways. Following Satori’s lead, Edwin lay back against the headrest. Peering up, he watched the magician take his place behind the high rounded corner that graced one end of the sofa. Satori smiled downward, his ebony mane framing his face, and began to massage Edwin’s temples. “Close your eyes,” Satori instructed in a low and soothing tone. “Breathe slowly, in, then out. With each breath expelled, I want you to feel your muscles ease, beginning with your arms, starting at your hands. Yes, like that—in, then out. Feel your limbs growing soft and pliant with each and every breath.” Satori guided Edwin through the meditative process for the next several minutes, instructing him to relax his arms, then torso. As they exercised the same technique for Edwin’s buttocks, then thighs, he felt a brief twinge of embarrassment but quickly found himself pacified by the mellifluous rhythm of Satori’s voice. By the time they reached his feet, his body had fallen into limp-limbed stupor, while his mind hovered near the hazy limbo between consciousness and sleep. “Good,” Satori encouraged him in a murmur. “Now, imagine that you are floating, weightless and buoyed, in a pool of warm water, the waves rippling gently against your flesh.” Dimly, as if in a dream, Edwin was aware that Satori had knelt on the floor beside him. One hand parted his knees and slid up his inner thigh, the accompanying sensations proving pleasant in his altered state of consciousness. The other hand brushed Edwin’s hair back from his face. Satori spoke near his ear. “You are now under my control, boy, and must do my bidding.” “Yes…sir…” Edwin sighed, warm shivers of pleasure running down his spine with each puff of breath against his pulse point. “Good. I have but few demands. You must answer my next question honestly, with no shame or remorse.”

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“Yes.” “How long have you battled your attraction to other men, Edwin?” “Always,” Edwin answered, the confession coming easily. “For as long as I can recall.” In a glorious moment of liberation, the solid weight of sorrow that he carried with him had been lifted, as if by magic, though he was too mellowed to express his joy. He simply accepted it. “Why do you deny this aspect of yourself?” Satori coaxed softly. “It is immoral,” Edwin whispered. “Who decrees such judgment, Edwin?” “God.” “God?” The magician chuckled. “I assure you, the good Lord has more pressing concerns than the likes of us.” “You speak blasphemy,” Edwin said, with what might have been a heated accusation drawn out in a lazy, drunken drone. “The only blasphemy committed is in denying your true nature, Edwin. Which brings me to my next demand—when in my presence, you need not resist your natural desires.” “Yes, sir.” “Should your body wish for pleasure, you may allow me to grant your body that pleasure with no guilt or regret.” “Yes, sir. Anything…anything…” “Anything, you say?” The other man’s chest rumbled against him with a low, sinister laugh. “If I were less of a gentleman, I might take advantage of your current predicament and truly bend you to my will. As it stands, I’m granting you this opportunity to do as you desire. And what is it that you desire, Master Edwin?” “You,” Edwin whispered. “I desire you.” “Then it is me you shall have.”

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Soft, full lips brushed Edwin’s. As he uttered a gasp, Satori took advantage of his show of surprise and pried his mouth open. At the exquisite glide of the other man’s tongue upon his, Edwin moaned and parted his lips wider. Breaking the kiss, Satori traced his lips down Edwin’s jawline with a hot stream of breath. He lit on the pulse point, sending tiny shocks of pleasure through every nerve in Edwin’s body, eliciting another gasp as he nipped and teased the delicate spot behind the ear before tracing his tongue up and down the lobe. All the while, long, nimble fingers made quick work of Edwin’s shirt, featherweight caresses dancing across his skin between each button. Satori pinched and rolled Edwin’s nipple, the flesh pebbling in response, a rush of blood surging straight to his prick, while his other wayward hand mapped Edwin’s body from the line of his waist to the jut of his hip. In that moment, it did not matter to Edwin that he received such pleasure at the touch of another man, particularly when that touch proved so deft and skilled. Free of any moral restriction, Edwin threw his head back and arched his chest forward. A hiss escaped his throat at the flick of Satori’s tongue trailing down the curve of his lowest rib. A second jolt of arousal charged through him, the length of his cock swelling and straining against the confines of his tight breeches. “Shall I open your trousers?” Satori made the offer quite calmly, even as he teased Edwin with a rub of the hand. “Yes, sir,” Edwin pled with a moan. In full acquiescence to the whims of his body, he wriggled his hips at the pleasant friction sparked by Satori’s palm, making for closer contact. “Please…please open them.” “Certainly, my boy.” He felt the smirk as Satori’s lips curved against his navel. “Though I act at behest of your desires, I have one final demand—you may not enjoy release until the trance breaks.” Searching fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Edwin’s trousers and freed the pair of buttons that hooked them in place. As the tweed slid down his thighs, Edwin arced into the skillful glide of the palm encircling his shaft, his hips rocking of their own accord

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to match Satori’s rhythm. His eyelids fluttered, threatening to end the trance, yet even as he opened his eyes, he remained in a subdued state. He peered down through hooded gaze at his exposed torso. A milky drop pearled at his slit where his member brushed his navel. “What do we have here?” Satori’s sidelong gaze met Edwin’s, a devilish glint firing his eyes. He darted his tongue to catch the fluid, teasing Edwin’s senses with the warm, wet swirl of his tongue around the swollen head. The black-haired magician climbed onto the couch between Edwin’s knees and lowered his head. He then proceeded to engulf Edwin’s length whole just as the train whistle sounded and the carriage went black. In the dark of the tunnel, Edwin surrendered fully to the heat of Satori’s hands upon his flesh, the mouth wrapped tight around his cock, the teeth lightly grating the vein which ran up the underside of his shaft. Feathery fingertips teased and toyed with the spot beneath his testes, creating yet another new and glorious sensation. After a few minutes of such heavenly torment, Satori spoke, offering Edwin’s cock a moment’s reprieve. “On the count of three, the trance will break. Do you understand, Edwin?” “Yes, sir,” Edwin gasped. “I…I understand.” “One,” Satori counted. A single digit breached Edwin’s tight passage. Edwin gasped. In the back of his mind, the last vestige of his willful, logical self protested such abomination, but his fevered body accepted it, somehow anticipated it. He shifted his hips and spread his thighs, granting further access. “Such a wanton body,” Satori’s voice rumbled in the dark with a tone of approval. “Two.” He resumed suckling Edwin, and slid a second finger inside. Edwin cried out as Satori’s fingertips lit upon another sensitive bundle of nerves buried somewhere deep inside. To think, Edwin had held the key to such pleasure right there in one simple spot, hidden in the most unthinkable part of him, and it had taken the practiced, knowing touch of the mage to unlock it.

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Three, he heard Satori’s voice ring in his head, though the man’s mouth remained fixed on his cock. At the insertion of a third finger, Edwin’s frenzied movements alternated instinctively between pumping into Satori’s mouth and grinding down against the mage’s hand. He thrashed and mewled, his curls whipping wildly. “Oh God, Oh God,” he chanted, his profane mantra rising from a breathless murmur to a high, keening wail. In the midst of Edwin’s crescendo, the train exited the tunnel. His trance broken, his body on the brink of release, Edwin shut his eyes against the onslaught of light and climaxed in Satori’s mouth. Spent, he wilted and slumped back down. Satori slid upward with another trail of kisses until Edwin found himself pinned back against the seat and tasting of his own seed, warm and salty upon the other man’s lips. “As I suspected.” Satori smirked down at him. “You’ve proven a perfect candidate for my experiment.” “Bastard,” Edwin cursed softly, still panting, trying to catch his breath. He turned his head, thoroughly shamed and violated, and yet he couldn’t quite find the will to pull away. “You tricked me. You made me…” “I made you do nothing—” Satori nibbled at his throat, sending more tiny quakes of pleasure, “—that you did not already desire. I merely freed you to indulge in a luxury you might have otherwise denied yourself. Would you decry me for that? Did you not enjoy my touch? Do you not desire more?” “Yes,” Edwin admitted with a sigh, angered less at Satori’s actions than by his own weakness. “But you offered to help me sleep.” “And that I shall.” Satori sat up, lifting Edwin with him and onto his lap. Cradled limply against the mage’s chest, Edwin observed as the other man pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and held it out as far as the chain would allow. Threading the chain, Satori let the watch slip down and dangle from his fingers. The silver disc began swinging back and forth. Fixing his eyes on the year of manufacture etched in Roman numerals, Edwin followed the swing of the pendulum.

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The tick of the watch, the clack of the train wheels and the thrum of Satori’s heart all merged in perfect tempo. As Edwin’s eyes flicked from left to right, they began to droop and he found himself once more reduced to a state of trance. Satori tucked the watch back in his pocket. He fanned his hand over Edwin’s face, tracing his fingertips down Edwin’s half-closed eyelids, his touch now soothing where it had previously stimulated. As his vision faded, Edwin’s consciousness slipped under the ether of the echoing murmur in his ear. “You will not recollect anything of our little experiment other than the pleasure I have given you,” Satori instructed. “A pleasure which only I may grant. You will return here to my coach tomorrow at half past midnight.” Yes, sir, Edwin tried to mumble, but his words were cut off by a long, lingering kiss, bidding him adieu into sweet, blessed slumber. *** Cocooned in warm blankets and loathe to wake, Edwin managed to open one eye. He sat up with a start, surprised to awaken in his sleeper bunk. With both eyes gone wide, he stared down his torso and saw that he still wore his day clothes. Peering through the bed curtains, he noted the bed across the aisle to be empty. Turning back toward the wall, Edwin rolled up the bamboo shade of the window he shared with his sister’s lower bunk. He squinted, his pupils contracting painfully against the harsh glare of noonday sun. Stunned, Edwin let the blind drop with a rattle of the slats. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he rested his brow against his drawn knees and tried to think on his last whereabouts. He’d taken tea with the debonair magician, followed by a visit to the gentleman’s private coach. He’d sampled the lithia water in the black glass bottle and then… And then what? As Edwin struggled to remember, a rush of warmth pervaded his abdomen. From there, the warmth radiated throughout his body, infusing him with a strange sense of giddiness. Faintly, he recalled Satori’s breath against his ear, felt the

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caress of libidinous hands upon his bared chest. At the dim memory, a thrill played down his spine, and his cock stirred and lengthened. Bedazzled all over again, Edwin closed his eyes. He parted his knees and slid one hand between his thighs. Palming his crotch, attempting to conjure his encounter with the mage, he rubbed his hand up and down. Shivering at the forbidden feel of his own touch against his rigid shaft, he rested back on one elbow, his head angled into the feather pillows. Widening his legs, he slid his hand inside his trousers and increased the friction. As his fingertips strayed to the sensitive spot beneath his testes, an unbidden image flashed through his mind, of Satori’s head between his legs, the magician’s generous lips wrapped around his length and suckling him. With a soft groan, Edwin teased his anus with the tip of his middle finger. Yes, he’d been touched here, he was sure of it now…and he wished to be touched there again, even if by his own hand. He stopped short of insertion, however, as Satori’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. “A pleasure which only I may grant…” Edwin retrieved his hand and dropped it with an exasperated slap against the mattress. “Satori,” he sighed in a halfhearted curse. The man had cast some sort of wicked enchantment upon him, of that there was no doubt. He should find the magician, demand an explanation, yet he vaguely recollected another command, that he was not to return to the magician until after midnight. Panting, Edwin refrained from further selfgratification and waited in agony until his erection finally receded. As his libido faded, it struck him—he’d slept. By God, he’d slept, and for a several hour stretch, free of any nightmare! On top of that, he was positively famished. His stomach rumbling from hunger, he scrambled down the ladder. Forgoing a proper comb, he ran his fingers through his hair, the waves promptly falling right back into his face. He checked his cravat, noting it was loose, and tightened it as he strode down the corridor. He found Alma and his mother taking luncheon in the dining carriage. The steward had kindly left the serving tray for him, while an empty plate waited at his empty seat. “Edwin,” his mother scolded as she rose partway to greet him. “Three times, you told me you were awake.”

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“My apologies, Mother, I don’t recall,” he confessed with a sheepish grin. “Please forgive my sloth. It is highly inexcusable behavior on my part.” “Mother was worried you might be coming down with something, if not perhaps suffering a case of nerves due to our move east.” Alma imparted this information casually as she buttered her bread. “I assured her you’ve been in the most excellent of spirits in recent days.” She looked up at him, and a hint of surprise ghosted her features. “I must say, brother, you look positively refreshed. Why, Mother, look! Edwin is smiling!” “I suppose the extra sleep has proven invigorating.” Attempting to keep a straight face, Edwin grinned like a love-struck fool in spite of himself. At the realization that he was indeed smitten with the mage, the full memory of what had transpired in the private saloon threatened to surface. Pushing such errant thoughts away, Edwin unfolded his napkin and tucked it into his collar. He speared two slices of white veal galantine onto his plate, then proceeded to smother them with a hearty layer of pistachios and truffles. After making quick work of his meal, he went to slice a third piece of the pressed meat—a rather thick one at that— but stopped short as he caught his mother and sister staring. “My apologies,” he mumbled. “It seems I suffer from gluttony today as well.” He started to return the knife to the platter. His mother placed a hand upon his forearm. “Eat all you want, my dear,” she encouraged, her voice warm and doting. Digging in, he watched from the corner of his vision as his mother smiled and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. He was considering a third helping when a passenger rushed in past the galley. “Come see.” The gentleman beckoned to a pair of rosy-cheeked children dining with their nurse. “The magician is putting on quite the show!” Edwin’s ears perked at mention of the mage. “Oh, Mother, may I watch?” Alma begged, her interest apparently piqued as well. Mother nodded. “If Edwin would care to escort you.”

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“Of course,” Alma said with a resentful sulk. Yet as she grabbed Edwin by the hand and dragged him along, it reminded him of happier times, before Father had died and the melancholia had taken hold, when they’d been young, carefree children and the best of friends. Proper chivalric etiquette dictated “ladies first” when escorting a female companion through a doorway. However, in the case of a moving train car, Edwin stepped out onto the vestibule first. Collecting his bearings, he offered Alma his hand and led her from one vestibule to the other. As she went to leap over the gap, he wrapped his free hand about her cinched waist and swung her across with a flounce of her skirts. As she landed on her French heels, she lost her footing and fell against him, her bosom crushing against his chest. Cheeks mantling, she pulled away. “Oh, Edwin,” she chided with a playful slap of her hand against his shoulder. In that moment, Edwin was struck by two revelations—he realized that his sister had indeed grown into a shapely woman, and he comprehended how far they’d drifted apart in recent years. He placed his hand on the door to the observation lounge, then took pause. As eager as he was to lay eyes on Satori again, he wished to address a nagging concern. “Alma.” He spoke in an undertone rather than shouting over the noise of the train and the wind, taking advantage of their brief moment of privacy. “Yes, brother?” “Why ever did you agree to marry that vile old man? He went to school with our grandfather!” Alma stared down through the grid of the platform, her eyes steadily focused as the ground blurred beneath them. “We need the money, Edwin. He has agreed to provide Mother a home, and he’s offered to pay your tuition at university.” “I will not abide it! I’d as soon take work as a livery boy or factory hand than accept his charity!” Anger loosened his tongue. “You’d do just as well to take to a life on the streets, for what it’s worth.” He immediately regretted his frank choice of words, but by God it was the truth!

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Alma’s eyes flared, her usual defiant streak rearing its head. She tipped her chin up and balled her fists at her hips. Her curls whipped about her angry face. “And as a woman, I am doomed to a life of prostitution, no matter how one may look at it! At least I shan’t go blindly into this marriage, fancying myself as any better than the mistress or the harlot!” Her manner softened, and she took him by the hands. “Besides, I expect the lecher has little time remaining on this Earth. I am willing to give him a few years enjoyment in exchange for his estate. Then I shall be free to live as I choose.” A conniving smile played upon her pretty lips. “Perhaps I might attend university with you, even.” Edwin’s eyes widened. He should have known better than to underestimate the logic behind his sister’s seeming act of martyrdom. “Alma, really…once we’ve arrived east, I’ll take a job and…and I’ll put you through school! Mother—all three of us, for that matter—would do well to live a little more spartanly.” Alma released her hold on his hands and cupped his face, her manner less that of a sister to a brother, than a mother to a son. She opened her mouth with an intake of breath, then pursed her lips. “I’ve already spoken at liberty,” Edwin urged. “Please do speak your mind, sister.” “I knew you’d started having nightmares again,” she said. “I’d seen the shadows under your eyes, the listless affectation to your step. I feared the melancholia had taken hold once more.” A lump formed in Edwin’s throat at Alma’s inferred meaning. She had not believed him strong enough to ensure their family’s welfare, and so she had agreed to an arranged marriage with a man three times her age, one who’d been leering after her since she’d been made to sit on his lap in their grandfather’s study when she’d been but a child. “That is all changed now.” Edwin seized her wrists and gripped them in earnest. “I know I have been a disappointment, but I am prepared to step up as the man of our household. I feel more whole and alive now than I have been in some time! Did you not observe the change yourself while we were dining?”

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“And how long might that last, Edwin?” Alma jerked her hands free and looked away from him, unsuccessful in her attempt to hide the tears that welled and glistened in her blue eyes. Blinking away the rare show of feminine vulnerability, she stiffened her spine—if it were possible to straighten her stance any higher—and brushed past him into the lounge. Edwin trudged behind her, dismayed at her lack of faith in him, upset with himself for not having shown any resolve sooner in averting his family’s current course. The familiar cloud of sorrow swirled around him like some dark, sickly aura, threatening to engulf him as it had so insidiously done before. Alma was right. He would always be one step away from a return to the asylum. He was not fit to be a man; he was not fit to even exist. And then he saw Satori and all was instantly right with the world again. Entranced anew, he took his place to stand beside Alma where she’d taken a seat in one of the wicker armchairs. The charismatic mage stood in the center of the observation coach, complete with coat and hat, in full command of his small audience’s attention, the men as captivated by his charms as the women; but it was the children who appeared to be the most enrapt, and it was them who Satori now addressed. He knelt on one knee, a deck of cards fanned facedown in his gloved hand, and asked first the girl, then the boy, to choose one card apiece. As they each selected a diamond-back card with their dimpled fingers, a strange look of sadness briefly fixed the mage’s features and strained at his otherwise amiable smile. Though it quickly passed, his solemn expression tugged at Edwin’s heart with a keen and knowing pain. As one who had suffered his own despair, Edwin immediately recognized the presence of sorrow in another; yet he could not identify with one so profound and knew, somehow, that his own grief paled in comparison to the burden which weighed upon the mage. “I once suffered my own dark night of the soul,” Satori had told him over tea, and Edwin had now seen, during that momentary lapse, that the mage held his own demons at bay.

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The children studied their cards, then randomly returned them to the deck as instructed. Straightening, his smile as spotless as ever, Satori made a grand display of shuffling the cards. He filed them from left to right then left again, the cards leaping to and fro in a wide arc. He dropped them neatly from upper hand to lower, the cards falling with a featherweight slap of paper upon paper in blurred succession. Edwin’s fellow patrons gasped and murmured in astonishment at the mage’s dexterous skill. The cards stacked, Satori gripped them between thumb and forefinger. With his other hand, he hit the cards with a swift chop. The cards fell to the floor, save for two now pinched between his fingers. He presented them to the children. “And here we are, the three of diamonds, and the seven of spades.” The girl and boy looked at each other in wide-eyed surprise. They shared a heated exchange of whispers before the girl gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. The boy turned back to the mage. He whispered as he looked around him in embarrassment. “What’s that you say? Speak up, young man.” Satori leaned in, hand cupped to his ear, then stood straight with a frown. “What’s that you say? These aren’t your cards?” He shook his head with a rueful sigh. “Well, I assure you, they must be around here somewhere.” Sidestepping the cards that still lay scattered on the floor, he strode to Alma and stopped before her. She peered up at him, her cheeks brightening to a florid shade of pink. “Pardon me, madam, but you have something caught in your hair.” Reaching out, he touched his fingers to the curls piled atop her head, and promptly produced a card that had seemingly been tucked behind her ivory comb. He turned to Edwin. “And you, kind sir, I believe you have something of mine as well.” His dark eyes fixed upon Edwin’s face a moment before drifting to his chest. Edwin looked down and noted the diamond-back card peeking out from his waistcoat pocket. “Oh!” Edwin blurted in surprise. He slid the card from his pocket and passed it to Satori.

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Their fingers touched, lingered, invoking a heated rush through Edwin’s body as it had each time since their fated meeting on the depot platform. Whether that initial encounter had occurred during Edwin’s waking hours or the dream realm, the sensations he experienced now were quite tangible and left him wanting to pay another visit to the mage’s coach. Edwin cleared his throat and hooked a finger under his collar, trying desperately to maintain composure and ignore the fact that the carriage’s interior had suddenly gone stuffy. Satori offered him a sly wink, and then turned back to his waiting audience. “Ah, the Jack of Diamonds, which I believe belongs to our fair gentleman here, and the Queen of Hearts, quite fittingly for our lovely young lady.” “Yes, that’s it!” the little girl cried, bouncing in her seat, clapping her small hands. The audience tittered and then applauded in approval. “How did he do that?” Alma hissed in a whisper. “Sleight of hand,” Edwin murmured down to her in reply, though given his recent experience in Satori’s saloon—at least what he could recount of it—he privately entertained the notion that the magician’s skill extended beyond illusory feats. Satori bowed, hat in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret that I do not have a proper stage on which to perform, or else I might have treated you to a more exciting display of powers beyond simple parlor tricks.” As he put on his hat, his look passed over the children, and his eyes were once more touched by a flicker of torment. Edwin wondered what it was about the children which drew out the mage’s sorrow. Satori’s eyes scanned the adults in the lounge before focusing on Alma. Though the mage’s lips remained unmoved, Edwin heard the low, rich baritone reverberate clearly through his thoughts. “It is said that the Devil demands the soul of the first person to cross a new bridge. But what if the driver of the train is himself in league with Lucifer? Whose soul might the Devil demand then, my sweet Alma?”

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Edwin’s gaze tore to Alma. A gasp escaped from behind her hand, her shoulders trembling, her face blanched. Edwin blinked; head reeling, body swaying, he gripped the curved back of the chair to steady himself. Had Alma heard Satori’s silent message as well? Was the mage capable of mass hypnosis? If so, why had Alma been singled out with such a macabre message, while he, as both her brother and someone who knew the mage on more intimate terms, had been allowed to listen? Before he could demand an explanation, Satori turned back to the rest of his audience. He tipped his hat. “I bid you ladies and gentlemen adieu.” There was a loud crack, an explosion of light and the stately mage was enveloped by a puff of black smoke. As the smoke dissipated, it became apparent that the mage had, quite simply, disappeared. The chorus of gasps was quickly squelched as the tightly corseted woman seated nearest the rear door shrieked, swooned and promptly fainted. If Satori had indeed performed such a trick on a proper stage, his disappearance would have been easily explained with smoke and mirrors. Yet he had stood in the middle of a moving train carriage, while a quick dash to the rear door necessitated the magician passing several audience members—including the one who was now being attended to with the miniature vial of smelling salts she conveniently wore from a chain around her neck. Edwin himself felt rather faint, and as he helped Alma to her feet, she did not appear to be in much better shape. “I think I should like to lie down,” she said, her lip quivering. “Yes, perhaps I may as well,” Edwin said, taking her by the elbow. He peered over his shoulder through the curling ribbons of smoke. One playing card lay on the floor, face up. The Ace of Spades—the card of death, or new beginnings. *** Edwin…

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Edwin sat up with a start, certain someone had whispered his name. He felt the train moving swiftly, which meant they had reached the last stretch of valley before ascending the dreaded mountain pass. It is said that the Devil demands the soul of the first person to cross a new bridge… At the thought of Satori’s silent, discomfiting message, Edwin experienced a fleeting flash of his recurring dream, though as always the details eluded him. As he racked his brain, it struck him that he’d slept for several hours again, once more free of nightmares. Edwin… The enchanter was summoning him, Edwin was sure of it, though at least he was being offered the chance to come to Satori of his own free will. He parted the curtains and quietly made his way down the ladder. It was time to confront the mage and demand an explanation, regardless of the hour, despite Edwin’s improper mode of dress. In nothing more than his cotton lawn nightshirt, he felt his way through the sleeper with deliberate stealth, particularly when he passed his mother’s bunk. Two carriages later he entered the observation lounge, the atmosphere eerie with the gas lamps dimmed to the lowest setting. He rushed to the end and burst outside onto the deck. He stared, bewildered, when the next door he sought to open did not match that of the one to Satori’s coach. He entered the carriage, and found himself in a sleeper car identical to the one he’d left three cars behind. Had a new car been added to the train while the other passengers slept? Judging from the volley of soft snores, the train had taken on more passengers as well. Perhaps another train had broken down? Would the passengers who slept in this car be surprised to awaken on a different train? Edwin treaded delicately, taking care not to disturb any patrons. When he entered the next carriage, he gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark before recognizing the familiar trappings of the parlor car, one which he had apparently entered from…the rear door? Utterly confounded, with the distinct and unsettling impression that he was going in circles, Edwin started down the side corridor. Groping his way down the wall past the

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curtained compartments to the…front?…of the car, he nearly tumbled headlong into a figure clad in white. “Begging your pardon,” he said, recovering from his initial shock, keeping his volume in check so as not to disturb the other passengers. He assumed he must have bumped into one of the porter’s making their nightly rounds, though he wondered why they did so without benefit of a lantern. “Edwin?” “Alma?” he whispered back, making out the spill of golden curls in the dark. “Whatever are you doing up at this hour?” “I might ask the same of you, brother,” she shot back. “I was…visiting the privy, if you must know.” It struck Edwin that Alma was going the wrong direction, considering the ladies’ washroom was at the rear of the car from which he’d just come. It also dawned on him that his sister was dressed in only her nightgown, as her chintz wrapper was fashioned from panels of brown and green calico. Then again, he’d forgotten his own robe in his haste. “Which car did you just come from?” he asked guardedly. “The sleeper, of course,” she replied, her tone curt, her voice edged with its own guarded tone. “You’re not sleepwalking again, are you?” “No!” His defensive hackles rose even as his gut twisted in a hard, sickening knot. Had he been sleepwalking? How else to explain the extra, apparently non-existent carriages he’d passed through? “I’m quite awake, thank you. I was in need of a…a drink of water. Perhaps it is you who is sleepwalking, dear sister, as you appear to have gotten your directions confused.” “And so what if I have?” she snapped. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your refreshment. I’m returning to bed.” She paused as she passed him. “Don’t tell Mother I was out in only my gown.” As the dark swallowed her, Edwin wondered if his sister might be returning from a clandestine meeting with a man. It wasn’t the first time they’d bumped into one another

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during their respective nocturnal rounds, his from insomnia, hers from a different sort of restlessness, though on previous excursions she had been wearing his clothes under their father’s coat, with her curls tucked beneath a hat. He’d never told his mother of his sister’s activities, as he would have betrayed the fact that he was suffering sleeplessness again. He waited several moments after the click of the door before following behind. Afraid of what he might discover, he took a deep breath, opened the door… …and was relieved to find the sleeper car. With a rising sense of déjà vu, he made his way back through the sleeper and then the dining car, reaching the observation lounge with a small sense of triumph. Yet as he neared the end of the lounge, his stomach began to sink. He stepped outside into the crisp, pine-scented night and confirmed what he’d already seen through the door window. Satori’s coach was gone. Impervious to the cold, Edwin stood rooted to the spot. He gripped the railing, his knuckles turned white, and glumly watched the tracks fading into the waning moonlight. He wasn’t certain as to what, exactly, he’d sought from the magician. Edwin knew only that, for all the bizarre occurrences since Satori had boarded the train, he had experienced a glimmer of hope for the first time in many years, and now that promise of hope had been ripped from him. Though there’d been no bond to hold the mage to him, Edwin felt betrayed and abandoned. His body began to quake, and his throat constricted. Chin quivering, he choked back a sob, blinked back the tears, determined not to cry. He had played the role of weakling long enough. “My dear boy. Why must you insist on standing in the cold?” Edwin turned, distress fading to relief. He tilted his face up. “I c-c-couldn’t find you,” he scolded through chattering teeth. “You t-t-told me to come to you. I…I needed to see you.”

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With a snap of cloth, Satori’s frock coat swooped elegantly around him. The silklined wool dwarfed Edwin as it settled over his shoulders, the long tails tickling the back of his ankles. “My deepest apologies, Edwin,” the mage said, his dark eyes lit by the moon, the look in them one of sincere regret. He drew the lapels of his coat tight around Edwin’s chest. “My last appointment ran longer than intended, though you may avail yourself of my attentions now.” “An appointment?” Edwin asked, a possessive surge of jealousy flaring. “At this hour?” “You are not the only restless spirit aboard this train.” Satori smiled. With one curled finger, he tenderly brushed a stray tear from Edwin’s cheek. Chagrined at the evidence of his weakness, Edwin tried to turn his face away. Satori cupped his chin and held Edwin’s gaze. “Though you are the only one I care to spend any manner of time with.” At the brush of Satori’s lips upon his, the repressed memory of their previous private encounter burst through the mental barrier. As the wave of shock flooded through him, Edwin attempted to pull back. Strong arms encircled him and held him close. The mage’s words rang through his head once more. A pleasure which only I may grant… Edwin threw aside his questions, suspicions and demands, and simply yielded. With an openmouthed moan, he surrendered to the kiss. Alone with the mage as the darkened landscape rushed by, before the eyes of no other than the distant God above, Edwin caved to his desire, his lust and longing matched in the intensity of Satori’s heated kiss. Edwin met the warm, wet glide of Satori’s tongue with his own eager flick. At the feel of Satori’s knee prying between his legs, Edwin parted his thighs. Beneath the coat, his nightshirt slid up. His sex exposed, Edwin acceded to the whims of his body. Relying on Satori’s hold for support, he crooked one knee and slid his leg up. Swept up in passion, he unabashedly pressed and ground his hardening member against the firm bunch of the mage’s thigh, delighting in the coarse scratch of wool against his sensitive flesh.

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A groan of approval rumbled from Satori’s throat, and his fingers threaded through Edwin’s curls. He ravaged Edwin’s mouth now, suckling his tongue with force, nipping it with his teeth. With another groan he broke the kiss, leaving Edwin’s lips to feel swollen and bruised. “I can warm you better inside,” Satori murmured thickly. “Come.” He ushered Edwin back into the carriage. Dazed, Edwin momentarily forgot his arousal as he comprehended two incongruous facts: they had entered Satori’s coach, and the black and red interior, illuminated with countless candles, now housed a bedchamber rather than a drawing room. Edwin squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “I’m dreaming again,” he muttered. “Sleepwalking. It’s the only logical explanation.” Satori slid the coat from Edwin’s shoulders and let it drop unceremoniously to the checkerboard floor. Edwin found himself being propelled back toward the curtained bed. Eager hands tugged the hem of his nightshirt higher, skimming his frame along the way. “My boy,” the magician murmured, his lips against Edwin’s pulse point, his thumbs rolling across Edwin’s nipples, “if you plan to spend any amount of time with me, you must shake your stultifying notions of logic and simply live in the moment.” “Then do not give me time to think on it.” They tumbled onto the bed and landed in a pile of damask pillows, Edwin pulling Satori as much as he was pushed. Raising his arms, he allowed the other man to pull his nightshirt off. Reveling in the debauched mood of the moment, and determined to overcome any false sense of modesty, Edwin stretched supine upon the pillows. Extending one leg, he drew up the other, while he left his arms curled above his head. Satori stood. “Yes, stay like that,” he commanded, his eyes hooded, his voice low and throaty. “Let me gaze upon your perfect body. I want to commit every inch of flesh to memory.” He untied his cravat and slipped it from around his neck, letting the strip of scarlet flutter to the floor. He pulled off his waistcoat, then unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a taut, defined build. Edwin wondered at what the magician did in his spare time to have sculpted such a well-honed form.

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His trousers remained on, a fringe of dark curls showing just above the waistband. As Satori stretched out on the bed, Edwin parted his lips to meet the next kiss, but the other man pulled away ever so slightly, teasing and tantalizing with his breath instead. He continued in this fashion, slowly tracing his way down Edwin’s throat, drawing his face to Edwin’s chest. At last, he touched Edwin with his lips, his tongue, suckling with abandon as he roughly laved one nipple, then the other. Edwin’s soft sigh was broken by a sharp gasp as the mage bit down and stretched the pebbled nub of flesh between his teeth. Satori drifted lower, his lips and breath scorching a path to Edwin’s navel, taking pause to dip his tongue in a long, languorous swirl before teasing the length of Edwin’s throbbing cock. With a greedy grip of the hand, he urged Edwin to spread his legs wider. Consenting to the more experienced man’s wishes, Edwin stretched his thighs taut. He moaned and arched at the deft slide of fingers between the cleft of his buttocks. “Yes,” Satori murmured. “Allow your instincts to guide you. I knew you would respond as such once you let your guard down.” His fingertips delicately worked the patch of nerves beneath the testes, intermittently straying to the tender ring of Edwin’s opening. In response, the tip of Edwin’s cock grew slick with the promise of release. His moans grew louder and wavered in pitch, prompting Satori’s touch to grow rougher and more insistent. Abruptly, Satori rolled Edwin onto his stomach. He kissed and caressed the globes of Edwin’s buttocks. “Lift your hips,” he instructed, grasping Edwin’s flanks, spreading him open. “I told you I wished to know every inch of you.” Edwin flinched, surprised at the hot tickle of breath, followed by the warm, moist glide of Satori’s tongue in his most unmentionable place. Unclean, was his immediate reaction, and yet the heat of Satori’s mouth there sent him reeling into an even higher state of bliss. Free of any enchantment, drawn into the bed by nothing more than the mage’s touch, Edwin allowed his true desire to dictate his next move. Braced on his elbows, he dipped

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his spine and splayed his knees, accepting the taboo kiss, allowing the waves of ecstasy to ripple through his limbs. Satori grunted in approval, his tongue probing deeper to taste and pleasure. Edwin’s cock twitched against the mattress, while the tension coiled in the base of his groin threatened to spring. At the moment when he thought he could bear no more, the other man flipped him back over and bent his knees to his shoulders. Satori unbuttoned his trousers and slid the fabric past his hips. His cock jutted forth, proud and grand. Sitting back on his heels, Satori gripped his shaft at the base to display his length and girth. Edwin distinctly detected a smug gleam in the mage’s eyes. He waited with nervous anticipation, trusting the other man would soon penetrate him; yet despite any prospect of pain or lingering inhibition, Edwin wanted the other man with every ounce of lust that burned within him. “On that count, we are both in agreement,” Satori whispered, and Edwin knew his innermost thoughts lay as exposed to the mage as his body. There was no escape from Satori’s power, and Edwin willingly wished to remain captive. With a wicked smile, the mage slid his other hand under the pillows and produced a small vial. He uncorked the neck with his teeth and then poured a clear, oily substance onto his cock, allowing it to drip freely into the cleft of Edwin’s spread buttocks. Before Edwin could question the motives behind the mage’s preparedness, Satori tapped the weight of his prick with a light slapping sound at Edwin’s slicked entrance. He rocked his hips, sliding his cock up and down Edwin’s crevice. In turn, Edwin swiveled his lower torso, his sharp gasps backed with the hitch of Satori’s breath. Satori offered another tap, then shifted slightly and nudged the crown of his cock inside, breaching and stretching the resistant band of muscle. Edwin tensed, and his breath caught in his throat. Satori leaned down, his hands planted on the mattress, his arms fixing Edwin’s thighs in place. He nudged an inch deeper and then stilled his entry. He peered down, his ebony mane wildly framing his face, and it was evident by his strained expression that he held his desire at bay.

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“I’ve done what I can to prepare you. Would you have all of me, Edwin?” Edwin lifted his buttocks in acquiescence, allowing another inch of his passage to be filled and stretched. He gasped; Satori grunted. “All of you,” Edwin managed to reply. “I could—” Satori struggled to speak “—I could hypnotize you again…to ease your discomfort.” “No,” Edwin hissed through bared teeth. “No more tricks. I can take it.” “As you wish.” Satori pivoted his hips and sank down, sheathing his cock to the hilt. Edwin cried out, the air rushing from his lungs as Satori’s hips crushed against his ass. The mage slid his palms up Edwin’s arms and their hands locked, Satori holding him down as Edwin gripped back. The mage eased out and then thrust back in. Edwin stifled another cry as his muscles constricted, enveloping Satori’s length even as they sought to reject him. He willed himself to relax, accommodating the invited intrusion. Satori increased the pace, driving into him with a resounding slap of flesh upon flesh. The pain dulled, and Edwin experienced that same surge of pleasure as he’d felt when Satori had gratified him with his fingers during the hypnosis. Drawing his breath in shallow gasps, he wrapped his legs around Satori’s narrow waist. Hooking his ankles at his lover’s tailbone, he better angled himself so that his partner might strike repeatedly upon his sweet spot. In turn, Satori wrapped his fingers around Edwin’s shaft and pumped with rapid flurry. “Oh God,” Edwin cried, gripping the bed curtains in one hand, fisting the sheets with his other. Climax slammed into him, tearing through him with ruthless, unforgiving force. His muscles rippled in violent spasms, each wave sending hot beads of fluid to splatter upon his stomach and chest. Curling forward, Satori panted between thrusts, his breath heated and urgent against Edwin’s throat. “Oh God…you’re tight…so deliciously tight…” He tensed, his frame shuddering, and emitted a long guttural groan. Satori collapsed, his weight upon Edwin proving a welcome comfort rather than burden. They lay together, their flesh dewed from passion. The thick heat of musk

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diffused around them as they each caught their breath, their heartbeats slowing in diminuendo. Edwin threaded his fingers through Satori’s hair, thrilling to the silken glide as the strands slid through his fingers. Lazily, he toyed with one of the beaded braids. “Oh God, Edwin,” Satori huffed in his ear. “Edwin. I have waited so long…so long to find you…” “Me?” Edwin asked, not quite making sense of Satori’s words, knowing only that he could lie like this in the other man’s embrace forever. Satori lifted, braced on one elbow, his hair draped over one shoulder and tickling Edwin’s chest. Tenderly, he grazed his knuckles across Edwin’s cheekbone. “Tell me, Edwin, what do you desire more than anything on this Earth?” “To always feel as happy as I do at this moment,” Edwin answered. Without thinking, he turned his face and teased his lips across the swell of Satori’s palm. He stopped, blushing in spite of himself. How easy it had become, to abandon restraint and act on sensual impulse when in the mage’s presence. “That is all?” Satori arched one eyebrow with what could only be skepticism. “You would have nothing more? No riches, no fame?” His questioning tone changed to a teasing lilt. “Perhaps a harem of beautiful women at your beck and call?” Edwin smiled. “I have no need of such things, particularly the women.” Satori laughed, a bold, hearty laugh. He rolled over and pulled Edwin to sit astride him. Palms pressed to Satori’s chest, Edwin stared down at his beautiful lover, wondering at the chiseled features suffused from pleasure and the raven hair fanned sensuously over the pillows. Satori reached up and cupped his face. Though his dark eyes glittered with mirth, his expression bespoke earnestness. “What if I told you that I could grant you that happiness, if you but agree to stay with me for eternity?” “You can’t be serious.” Edwin dismissed Satori’s rather dramatic proposition, though the man’s words touched him and made his heart swell with hope. “I do not speak lightly, Master Edwin.”

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“You mean that I might stay with you?” Edwin shook his head. “But how? Living together, as two men…” Satori drew Edwin’s head down to rest against his sternum. Languidly, he stroked Edwin’s curls while with his other hand he caressed and kneaded Edwin’s sore buttocks, his touch now comforting where it had been demanding, giving where it had taken. His voice rumbled from deep within his chest. “I am in need of a traveling companion, a secretary of sorts. I suspect you would prove skilled at keeping my affairs in order, among other expected duties.” “I’ll stay with you forever.” Edwin sighed. Raising his head, he folded his hands across Satori’s chest and propped his chin. “That is, if you would have me that long.” “Oh I will.” Satori’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight. He extended his left arm across the mattress toward the nearest candle. With an elegant sweep of his hand, he threaded his fingers back and forth through the flame. As the mage’s fingers danced through the fire unharmed, the pentacle ring he wore took on a red glow. Edwin watched, mesmerized by the same fingers that had explored and exposed his secret source of pleasure and so deftly brought him to the realm of nirvana. Vaguely, he was aware of Satori’s cock stirring and lengthening against his rump. With the other hand, Satori cradled the back of his head. Offering a gentle tug against Edwin’s scalp, he curled forward and pulled them both to a sitting position, Edwin still straddling his thighs as Satori’s legs crossed beneath to support them both. “You are mine,” the mage murmured. “And I am yours.” Curling his left hand, he pressed the ring to Edwin’s chest directly over his heart. Stunned, Edwin flinched and hissed at the heated metal searing into his flesh. He struggled to pull away, only to suffer the shock of Satori’s cock penetrating him without warning. Edwin threw his head back and yelled out, his cry part protest, part surrender, and clawed his nails into Satori’s shoulders. Unfazed, the mage thrust up and shoved Edwin’s hips down, impaling deeper. “Shhh,” Satori soothed. With rounded lips, he leaned his head down and blew lightly where he had left his cruel brand. In contrast to his brute invasion, his cock eased in and out of Edwin slowly, gently. With each languorous thrust the pain of the brand faded,

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until Edwin experienced something akin to the trance state, his entire being now centered on the undulating rhythm of Satori stretching and filling his passage. “What have you done to me?” Edwin mumbled, his senses reeling, his head lolling as he hovered at the edge of climax once more. “I’ve marked you as mine.” Satori’s breath ghosted the base of Edwin’s throat, yet his words echoed as if from a distance, woven between each delicious thrust. “And now sleep, my precious boy.” “Yes,” Edwin said in a drowsy slur. Where his previous climax had relentlessly assaulted him, the second orgasm washed through him in gentle waves, rising and cresting with each peak, his fluids milked rather than forced as they slowly trickled down his shaft. “Sleep.” “Eternity begins before dawn,” were the last words Edwin heard as the tide ebbed and gave way to the beat of his heart, signaling his descent into the sweet oblivion of slumber. *** He’d fallen asleep in Satori’s arms, yet awoke in the…observation lounge? And back in his nightshirt at that, curled up in a wicker loveseat with another warm body melded against his, with his fingers combed through a mass of silken strands. A head lifted from his chest and a questioning gaze met his own. “Where are we?” Alma asked, her speech languid, her movements groggy. Aghast, Edwin began to untangle his limbs from his sister’s, his fingers from her curls. Why, he’d been clinging to her in sleep like a lover! Yet he was suddenly consumed with an inexplicable sense of dread, coupled with an instinctive sense to protect his sibling. He clung to her all the more tightly, and in turn her grip on him strengthened. In the dwindling glow of lunar rays that slanted through the bay windows, the whites of her eyes loomed wider, hinting at her own sense of vulnerability and desperation.

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He experienced a pang of guilt at the fact that he would soon be leaving her, yet he trusted that if his sister truly wished for his happiness, then she would understand when, upon reaching their destination, he elected to stay on the train and continue his journey elsewhere. The train whistle sounded, long and lone like the cry of the banshee. Edwin shivered, Alma’s frame trembling with him. Something wrong, something bad about to happen… “Brother,” Alma whispered. “I love you.” The seat beneath them shifted, slid and then they were pitched together, thrown across the car, slamming into one of the tables. Their momentum veered, and now they toppled together along with the table in the opposite direction. “Edwin!” Alma cried, and then they were pitched again. Where a moment before they had been crushed violently together, he now felt Alma’s limbs rent from his. He grasped, fumbled and found her hand, managed to maintain his hold. The carriage spun, his stomach spinning with it. Alma’s fingers slipped from his, her scream filling his ears, as some unseen, unstoppable force sent him sailing through the air like a flung rag doll. There was a sound of shattering glass, and his mouth and nostrils were filled with the taste and scent of earth, while some gritty substance pelted his skin. In a split moment of realization, he comprehended that the carriage had been thrown onto its side, the bay windows breaking against the ground, and yet it continued moving swiftly, building momentum with each passing second, tearing up the forest floor in its path. He felt his back come into harsh contact with some solid barrier that instantly gave way, heard the shatter of glass and the kiss of cold air as he flew through the upended side of the carriage. He continued flying, and in an instant, his entire life played out before him as if on a stage. He saw the precious years he had wasted, drowning in his own pool of misery when he might have made something better of himself. His weight shifted, dropped, and now he found himself falling, floating, and time seemed to stand still. Suspended in the air, shards of glass sparkled around him like stars against velvet night, tinkling like a chorus of a thousand miniature silver bells.

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No, not like this! He pled in his mind, to God, the Devil or anyone else who might be listening for that matter. I had finally found a reason to live…a reason to go on living… His backside slammed against something cold and solid, sending what air remained in his lungs rushing from him. His head was filled with a vile, sickening crack, one which he instinctively identified as that of bone splintering. Pain tore through him, shooting up and down his spine, firing through his limbs and igniting his nerve endings. The most indescribable, excruciating pain, yet as quickly as it had consumed him, the pain instantly ceased, leaving him numb, a sensation which proved less comforting than disconcerting. All around him went silent. He lay there, cocooned by an invisible veil, for what might have been minutes or hours, he could not say. The numbness gradually gave way to warmth and feeling. Finally, he flexed one finger, followed by another. He lifted his hand, then his arm, until at long last he braced himself with both arms and curled into a sitting position. “I’m alive,” he murmured, studying his hands where he held them in front of his face, wondering at the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears as clear as a crystal chime. Curious as to why he could not feel the cold, he breathed, inhaling slowly, then exhaling, noting his breath did not fog the air. The veil which had insulated him was lifted like a curtain. The grinding screech of metal upon metal tore through the night, the ravine below the jutting rock he’d landed on transformed into an inferno of heat, fire, smoke and screams, his nightmare become grim reality. His dream…this was what he’d kept seeing, kept forgetting… Bolstered by adrenalin, fueled by some primitive urge to survive, Edwin clawed his way out of hell, grasping at dirt, rock and roots, anything which might give him purchase to pull himself up the slope. He clung to the edge of the bluff a moment, his ribs heaving from exertion against the hard earth. As he dragged himself onto flat ground, he found more of the same horrors awaited him. Oh God he’d known, he’d known this would happen…

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Katrina Strauss

Finding his legs, Edwin rose to standing. He walked several paces, surprised by the absence of pain or any lack of mobility. He stared down his torso, his nightshirt rent and soiled and draped down one shoulder, yet his body whole and uninjured save for the inverted pentacle that scarred his chest. Flummoxed, Edwin hugged himself and looked wildly about. A train carriage slid with a loud groan down the slope and slammed into the base of a majestic pine. There was a loud splintering of wood, and the tree toppled. Nearby, another pine erupted in flames. Within seconds, the fire had spread to the surrounding grove, a plume of smoke wending above the burning treetops and obscuring the moon. The stench of coal gas and charred wood assaulted Edwin’s nostrils. As the fire grew and illuminated the night, Edwin better took in the ghastly scene played out around him. The bridge had collapsed after the engine had traversed only a few feet, sending the first few freight cars plummeting into the ravine, while the remainder of the train had derailed and scattered as it curled around the bend that led to the bridge. If not for the curve of the mountain pass, Edwin realized, the entire train would have plunged into the ravine. Whether by the grace of physics or divine intervention, some of the passengers had at least been spared an instant death; but the bodies scattered throughout the scene, paired with the wails and screams which pierced the night, spoke of anything but mercy. Not since his days at the asylum had Edwin heard such a mournful dirge, when the cries of the lunatics locked in the lowest level of the hospital would drift up the waste pipe shaft to the upper ward, leaving him to cover his ears with his hands as he rocked back and forth in his bed, knowing he was but one step away from suffering the same madness. “Alma,” he murmured, returning to the present. He recounted his last minutes before he’d lost consciousness. The train car had lurched, and he’d felt himself thrown, heard Alma scream his name as her hand had slipped from his grasp. “Alma,” he repeated with greater force, his shock settling. He looked around him with a sort of frantic purpose. If he’d survived, then perhaps his sister had too. Or Mother; where was his mother?

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Through the smoke and the flames, two silhouetted forms emerged. Untouched by the fire, both figures approached Edwin. They drew closer, now lit rather than shadowed by the flames, one clad in black, the other in white. Long hair billowed in the hot draft, the taller one’s dark and straight from beneath his top hat, the petite one’s curls loose and shining like gold-spun thread in the preternatural glow of flame. Edwin’s voice croaked. “Alma! Satori!” He veered toward them in brisk stride. In turn, Alma pulled away from the mage and broke into a run. Her nightgown was streaked with dirt yet, like him, she appeared to have escaped any harm. As they went to embrace, he felt the familiar touch of warm flesh, then the warmth gave way to cold and he somehow passed through Alma as though he were made of vapor. Shock reverberated through him. He halted and wheeled around to meet Alma’s horrified stare, her hands clasped to her mouth. Hesitantly, Edwin reached toward her. In turn a muffled sob sounded from behind her hand as, with her other, she reached out to meet his touch. Their fingers drew near. Edwin once again experienced a fleeting promise of contact, only to watch his hand pass through Alma’s as if she were nothing more than an illusion. Alma emitted a small shriek and jerked her hand away. “Am I dead?” Edwin asked, touching his own face, his chest, feeling quite solid and alive. A pair of hands wrapped about his shoulders, while a firm body pressed flush against his back. Lips brushed his ear; breath warmed his neck. Tilting his head to the side, Edwin peered up at Satori. “So my brother is why you would not have me,” he heard Alma say. Edwin’s eyes flicked back to his sibling. If he could feel Satori’s touch then— Oh God, it was her who had died, not him. He was looking upon his sister’s ghost. Satori extended his hand and stroked Alma’s face. He graced her with a small smile. “If my proclivities ran toward the fairer sex, the choice would have been a most difficult one.”

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So Satori could touch them both, while they were unable to touch each other, and it was apparent that the mage and his sister had exchanged confidences at some point during their journey. “What is the meaning of this?” Edwin demanded. He attempted to step away but Satori held him firm. “You’re both dead.” Satori’s words were brusque but his voice assumed a sympathetic tone. “Though I shall be resurrecting Alma shortly.” Edwin jerked free of the mage. “What are you?” he hissed, backing away. He came to stand beside Alma, who was peering down into the ravine. Edwin followed her gaze and experienced another surge of shock at the sight of his body still lying on the rocks below. “No,” Edwin moaned. “No! I had found a reason to go on living. With you! I wanted to live with you!” “And you shall,” Satori said. “When I promised you eternity, I told you that I did not speak lightly.” “But you are the Devil!” Edwin accused. “No.” Satori gave a sorrowful shake of his head. “Though I met Him once and struck my own bargain.” “And the terms of that bargain?” Edwin asked. “I was rather vain in my mortal youth. I wished to never grow old. And so now I walk the Earth for eternity and collect souls for my Master.” “He tricked you,” Edwin observed. “Oh yes, He has rightfully earned his title of Master of Lies. I, on the other hand, strive to be more upfront and fair in my dealings. Such as would be the case with our dear Alma here. It seems her betrothed is on my Master’s list of overdue debts, so she has agreed to poison him slowly over the next several months.” Edwin gaped at his sister. “You’ve agreed to murder?”

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“We’ve simply sped the process by twenty years.” Alma straightened her spine in a defensive posture. “Satori tells me that old lecher is rather fit for his age but has well outlived the Master’s uses.” “And once he dies?” Edwin asked, suspecting there had to be a catch to this arrangement. “The merry widow may carry on with her plans to use her inheritance as she sees fit, providing she allows my Master to pay a visit to her bedchamber from time to time.” “That leaves her indebted to your Master as well,” Edwin said to Satori, though his eyes flicked to Alma. “I am fully aware of that,” Alma huffed, and yet Edwin saw the fear of what she’d committed to waver behind her eyes. “Do you know how it is for me, to be trapped in a certain existence simply because I was born female?” “You shall not be truly free, sister. You’ve traded one form of prostitution for another.” “Yes, that I have,” she conceded wearily. She sank to the ground and stared down in despondence, her gaze shifting past his body to the fire raging below. The glow of the flames illuminated her pale, pretty face with a play of light and shadows. “It seemed such a practical idea at the time. Though Satori assures me that Lucifer is a most handsome fellow and will make it well worth my time.” Edwin stared down into the ravine with her, then back at his body lying broken and bruised on the rocks. He turned back on Satori, his anger rising again. “You knew this was going to happen. Why couldn’t you use your power to stop it? Why not warn the engineer?” Edwin grew livid, pacing back and forth, his hands flailing in emphasis. “Or good God, the passengers? There are children on this train!” Satori shook his head, his sad eyes cast to the ground. “It is God that determines who lives and who dies, Edwin. I may choose but one to bring back, one who must willingly enter into the contract beforehand. Believe me, I’ve tried over the centuries. I’ve tried to save others but…they still died, on the same day, at the same time, but in a different way, sometimes in a much more horrific manner than if I’d simply allowed fate to run its

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course.” His downward gaze transferred to Edwin’s battered remains. “Though I know this, it still did not stop me from trying one last time. I placed you and Alma in the lounge together, hoping that you each would be spared.” “Our mother,” Edwin said quietly. “She was in the sleeper car, where Alma and I should have been. Is she…” His words trailed off before he dared ask the question. “Your mother is fine, though suffering a mild concussion. She is one of the few luxury passengers fated to survive. She awoke right before the accident and went into the parlor car to attend to…well let’s say delicate necessities and leave it at that.” Alma stared up at Edwin. “The privy?” she murmured. “Our mother’s life spared by a trip to…the privy?” She began to tremble and he to shake, and then they both burst into laughter, their chortles falling somewhere between mirth and mild hysteria, and then Alma started to cry. Clutching his ribs, Edwin dropped down beside her. He instinctively reached out to her, but stopped short, remembering that he could not touch her. For some reason, this made him laugh all the harder. He would have embraced his sister and laughed and cried with her if he could. At the grim reminder of their present situation, Edwin’s laugher faded. His thoughts returned to the children who had been in the sleeper car. Now he understood the look of sorrow that had flitted across Satori’s features the day of the magic show. It struck him that Satori suffered penance, each and every day that he walked the Earth, knowing who would live and who would die, ever aware that for all his power, he was helpless to change their fates. And here Edwin had so harshly rebuked his lover, accusing the man of being the very Devil himself. Rising, he stepped back up to Satori. He reached out and palmed the mage’s handsome face. Satori leaned into the touch, offering a tender smile in turn, and gently pressed his fingers to Edwin’s hand. He needs me, Edwin realized. But how, and why?

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“Satori, where do I fit into this scheme? You said you may choose only one. Why are Alma and I both standing here? I did not offer my soul to Lucifer as she did. I promised it to you.” “Indeed you did, my boy.” The mage looked pointedly down at Edwin. “In addition to the souls I must acquire for my Master, I’m entitled to enslave one—and only one—for my own selfish whims. Though I do not wish for a slave, Edwin; I desire a partner. I’ve walked this world alone for centuries, waiting to meet a suitable companion, knowing I would only be allowed to choose once and so must do so wisely. And I’ve chosen you.” Satori’s explanation sank in, leaving Edwin equally touched and dumbfounded. “I was enslaved by you the first time I laid eyes upon you,” he said softly. “But why me? I’m not worthy of such an honor.” “You stir something in me,” Satori said. “You remind me that I am human, not a demon. And when you asked only for the happiness that I may give you, I knew you were the one I wished to keep at my side.” “You still tricked me,” Edwin said, his accusation one of wearied amusement, not anger. “When you asked if I would stay with you for an eternity, I thought you were speaking rhetorically.” He turned to face Alma, who had risen and stood patiently by, taking in the scene between the immortal mage and her spectral brother. “Yet my sister has given herself to your Master in both body and soul.” “Indeed, she has.” “Yet it is only my soul that you possess, not my body.” “Yes.” Satori smiled. “Though I rather enjoyed your physical half, it is this form that stands here in my arms that I truly desire.” “You say you have no control over men’s souls before their death. Has anyone succeeded in tricking the Master afterward?” “A few have here and there, yes.” Satori chuckled. “He can’t keep track of all his charges; hence why He enlists others to carry out His bidding.”

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Katrina Strauss

“I have an idea,” Edwin said. “An experiment, if you will, as this is the one and only time you will have two disembodied souls at your disposal.” As he tossed forward his suggestion, Alma’s eyes went wide, and Satori’s grin deepened. “So you would trick not only the Devil, but the good Lord himself?” Satori said. “I admire your sense of cunning, Master Edwin. I’ve chosen a most fitting companion indeed.” *** Satori walked to the splintered ruins of the observation lounge which hung precariously by a tree limb. Firmly planting the heel of his boot against the platform, he gave a shove. The tree limb snapped, and with a groan of metal the carriage gave way, disappearing into the funeral pyre of the ravine with a shooting burst of flame. It pained Edwin to think of his mother’s grief once it became clear that Alma’s body would never be found, though at least she would be spared the grisly discovery of her child half-buried in the dirt scraped up by the carriage. It also broke his heart that, once resurrected, Alma had no longer been able to see or hear him. “Take care of my brother,” she had told Satori, her misted eyes seeking his unseen partner beside him, and then she had turned and limped away, calling out to their mother with Edwin’s voice, her soul now housed within his former corporeal host, destined to live out a life to the fullest that he had once been so keen to waste. Satori returned to Edwin’s side. “Our experiment has proved a success.” “For now, yes,” Edwin muttered, staring off in the direction in which his sister had gone. “How long might she have before Lucifer discovers she didn’t fulfill her end of the pact?” “I cannot say,” Satori said. “If she’s found out, her new form won’t discourage Him from taking what he wants. He would have found you to be as delectable a morsel as she.” Satori slid one arm around Edwin with a protective grip. “Although when it comes to our headstrong Alma, I suspect there will be ‘the devil to pay’, so to speak.”

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Sleight of Hand

“Yes, my sister would be the one to give even Lucifer fits.” Edwin gave a knowing laugh. He peered up at Satori. “There is one element of this that perplexes me most.” “What would that be?” “How can you see me, or touch me, while no mortal may?” Satori pondered him a moment. “Remember what I told you before? If you are to be with me, you must forget your ingrained notions of logic.” Edwin cocked an eyebrow. “In other words, you don’t know.” Satori turned Edwin into both arms and pressed a tender kiss to his brow. “I know this. You’re here with me, and that is the only truth either one of us needs to know.” Edwin sighed and shook his head. He had just been resurrected from the dead by an immortal man who collected souls for the Devil. He supposed he would indeed have to change his way of thinking and simply accept things with Satori as they were. “What now?” he asked. “Where do you and I go from here?” Satori pulled out his stopwatch and opened it. It dawned on Edwin that it was likely no ordinary stopwatch. “I’m scheduled for the next grand disaster a decade or so from now—a rather dramatic encounter between a steamship and an iceberg.” His manner sobered. “It will be difficult to witness; there will be many lost.” “I’ve always wished to travel the seas.” Edwin melted against his master. “And if I am to be your ‘slave’, then I shall bear your burden with you.” “Very well.” The mage smiled. He snapped the watch shut and tucked it back into his pocket. “Until then, I trust you will keep me adequately occupied for the next ten years?” “I shall do my best,” Edwin vowed, “to keep you occupied an eternity.” He rose on tiptoe and met the kiss to seal that vow, secure in the knowledge that his mage would keep him equally satisfied in turn. Though fire and destruction reigned around them, it was the beginning of a long life to come, one in which Edwin intended to cherish each and every moment lest he taste Death again.

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About the Author

To learn more about Katrina Strauss, please visit www.katrinastrauss.com.

Can love survive when immortality doesn’t last forever?

Lost Souls © 2008 Barbara Sheridan and Anne Cain Blood Brothers Series.

More than a hundred years ago in old San Francisco, Kabuki actor Ryuhei Nakamura and vampire Kiyoshi Ishibe cemented an immortal love. Then at the dawn of the twentieth century, their lives were torn apart by tragedy. Now Ryuhei’s hope is reborn in the form of Jesse Shigeta, a gifted musical student. The young man is so like Ryuhei’s murdered beloved, that he believes fate has been kind in reuniting them once more, this time for eternity. But Jesse is full of secrets. As a child, the supernaturally gifted young man discovered Kiyoshi’s soul still bound to Earth. His every intent was to reunite his ghostly friend with Ryuhei, but when Jesse falls in love with the vampire himself, he will stop at nothing to keep his place by Ryuhei’s side. Even if that means calling upon ghost hunters to destroy Kiyoshi. Warning: Contains hotmansex, jealous-ghost violence, drama-queen-level angst, hotmansex, overactive college-boy hormones, did we mention hotmansex?

Enjoy the following excerpt for Lost Souls: Jesse handed a wad of bills to the taxi driver and rushed inside his parents’ house. “I’m home, Mom,” he called out, hurrying up to his room in the attic without waiting for a response. He dropped his duffel bag and backpack to the floor and looked around for his friend. “Tomo! I’m back.” He waited and waited for a sign, any sign his unseen companion was still here. He closed his eyes and concentrated, then opened them again, eager to see the slim young man not much older than him materialize. The air by the closet seemed to ripple but then it stopped at the sound of his mother’s voice at the bottom of the attic stairs. Jesse hadn’t seen her in almost a year, but he

wanted to share the news with his unusual friend first. Jesse felt closer to the ghost than he did his own parents. He concentrated until he felt the dull ache creep in at his temples. According to those parapsychologists who had guest-lectured a few classes earlier in the year, most contact with apparitions occurred when people could “see past the normal plane of reality”. Jesse didn’t know if that required a special skill or not, but Tomo had always appeared to him since he was a little boy. Had being away at college all this time dulled his ability to perceive the ghost? Had Tomo moved on? When his mother called again, Jesse headed out. Before closing the door, he looked into the room once more. “Please still be here, Tomo. Please.” Jet lag began catching up with Jesse before midnight as he sat at the desk in his room, a small antique lacquer box in his hands. In that hazy state between being awake and in a dream, Jesse heard a soft voice murmur in his ear. “Jesse-kun? Is it really you?” Jesse shivered in the cool air as he came awake. “Tomo, you’re still here!” “I’ll always be here.” The ghost’s words drifted over Jesse like a soft icy wind on his bare arms. He shimmered into slightly better focus now, but his body remained pearlescent and more faded than Jesse remembered. “Tomo…” Jesse started. The ghost interrupted him with a faint smile. “I’ve missed you.” The sadness in his voice suggested he was lonely, but Jesse knew the ghost longed for someone other than him. Jesse looked around for the box that had fallen out of his hands as he’d drifted to sleep. He saw it through the filmy leg of his spectral friend. He reached around the ghost to pick it up and smiled. “Tomo—Kiyoshi,” he corrected himself, using his friend’s true name, “I have good news.” “You’re coming to live here again?” Kiyoshi drifted closer to the window. “I got scholarship to finish my last year of grad school. It’s from the NE Foundation and—” “So you’ll be leaving again?” Kiyoshi frowned. “You just got home.”

The one thing Jesse did not miss about his friend were the strong dark emotions that often radiated from the ghost. Without warning, an intense melancholy washed over Jesse, strong enough to make a lump rise in his throat. Angst surrounded the ghost—Jesse got that. Any spirit—especially one who’d been a vampire and expected immortality— who clung to the human world had to have some emotional baggage. As close as they were, it wasn’t Jesse’s friendship with Kiyoshi that kept the ghost anchored among the living, but love. Love for Ryuhei. Jesse swallowed, steadying himself from the strong emotions swirling about him. Everything was about to change. “I’m going to study abroad. I’m going to study in Tokyo,” he said. Kiyoshi whispered, “Edo.” “Yes.” Jesse nodded at the classical name for Japan’s bustling capital. “My favorite city.” Kiyoshi didn’t add My home out loud, though Jesse felt the longing in the ghost’s aura. “I’m sure it’s changed so much from what I remember, but you’ll like it there.” Kiyoshi turned away from Jesse, his filmy body growing fainter. “Wait, don’t go.” Jesse set the box on the desk. “You’re coming with me.” Kiyoshi stopped fading and drew closer. “How?” It had been years since he could move farther than a few hundred feet from the house. He was tied to this spot for reasons he never explained to Jesse—as if he didn’t quite understand them himself. “I’m not a hundred per cent positive it will work but I think I can bind you to this.” Jesse slid the wooden box to the edge of the desk, keeping one hand on the lid. “I met these parapsychologists at school. They were filming a documentary on hauntings and— it’s a long story but I learned some stuff and I think I can transfer you to here to get you home again.” Kiyoshi smiled. “It’s fine, Jesse-kun. Maybe it’s best to leave things as they are.” “What’s wrong, Tomo?” “Maybe I’ve held onto this world for too long already.” Kiyoshi faced out the window, avoiding Jesse. “Go to Japan and forget about me.”

Kiyoshi was losing his foothold on this plane. That explained why he looked so much fainter, less substantial. Jesse couldn’t guess how much time the ghost had left, only that it couldn’t be very long. Certainly not another year. “You’re coming with me,” Jesse said firmly. “I won’t lose you, Kiyoshi. And maybe you can find Ryuhei there.” “You’ve tried so many times already.” Kiyoshi glanced over. “How many letters have you written for me?” He shook his head. “Ryu-san is too famous for anyone to get close to him. Go to Japan and live your life, Jesse-kun.” Jesse hesitated. “He’s the one sponsoring the program I’ve been admitted to.” “Ryuhei?” Kiyoshi gasped. He missed his lover so much—Jesse felt the sentiment radiating from the ghost pulsing deep in his own heart. He pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes half closed. “Yes.” Jesse pushed the box towards Kiyoshi. He concentrated on his friend’s aura, focusing on it while gripping the box as if it were a lifeline. “Perhaps I could find Ryu-san,” Kiyoshi breathed. He put a pale, translucent hand over Jesse’s. A jolt passed through Jesse, sharp and tingling like an electrical current. He clutched the box and squeezed his eyes shut as the power coursed through him. Blackness followed, and his consciousness slipped away.

Dinun can’t fly—but he could be the answer to an Angel’s prayer.

On Wings, Rising © 2008 Ann Somerville The Encounters series, Book 1

Barely tolerated by his own kind, Dinun is a self-reliant soul who scratches out a living from the great, empty lands of Quarn. Always looking for unexpected treasure, he never dreams of finding an injured Angel. Moon belongs to a race of telepathic winged humanoids. Exquisitely beautiful, sexually playful, Angels have always fascinated humans. Dinun’s feelings for Moon take flight as they become lovers, but a planetary invasion could destroy their future together. Centuries ago, humans on Quarn saved their race from destruction by joining their DNA with that of the Angels. Now full-blood humans are stealing Angel children— including Moon’s son—for barbaric experiments. The full-bloods are prepared to slaughter anyone who gets in their way. Thrust into a desperate race against time to save the infants, Dinun and Moon must battle against a people with weapons far beyond anything the Angels—or their human friends—can hope to defeat. Dinun brings to the fight his bravery and a determination to be true to himself. Will that be enough to save the children, and win the Angel he’s come to love? Warning: This title contains graphic interspecies winged sex and violence.

Enjoy the following excerpt for On Wings, Rising: When he brought the second can of warmed water over, Moon carefully extended the wing to make cleaning easier. Now Dinun could appreciate just how long and wide it was, though it folded up to little thicker than Dinun’s arm. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he wiped the cleaning leather down the silky fur. ::Pleased:: Dinun looked up. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No. You. Touch.” ::Pleased:: Huh. Knowing that made him rather self-conscious, made him notice the way the fur shone in the afternoon sun, how the skin fluttered each time he stroked it with the leather. When he finally finished and tossed the leather into the bloodied water, ready to empty it away from the camp, he saw a rather more obvious sign of Moon’s enjoyment of the cleaning. The Angel sported a proud and sizeable erection from behind the fold of skin that normally covered his genitals. “Oh. Uh.” Moon covered his cock with his hand. “You. Dislike.” ::Regretful:: “No, no…it’s, uh, impressive. Um, very big. In a good way. Excuse me.” Dinun stood and grabbed the cans of water, bolting over to the stream to dispose of the dirty liquid. “By the spirits,” he breathed as he poured the water from the cans downstream of the collecting point. He reached inside his trousers to adjust himself. It was one thing to give a furtive blowjob or five to the supposedly happily married Kenwil or Rujo behind the stables, or to masturbate in his own bed to memories of men working in the fields, bared to the chest, but he’d never in all his life seen… It had been beautiful. Perfect and long. Dinun wanted to know what it would taste like. What it would be like to kiss Moon or to feel those elegant Angel lips on his own cock—not that he knew what it was like to have anyone’s mouth on his penis, but he had a pretty fertile imagination. Being the only invert—officially at least—in a little settlement like Getake, it was either imagination or nothing. His widowed ma, blessed be her spirit, had explained in her own gentle, nonjudgemental way what Dinun’s embarrassed admissions about not really wanting to have sex with girls meant. That it was normal, and certain men and women were just made that way, which was why their society allowed for provider-partners and same-sex troths. Talking to her, he’d felt good about himself. He was different but not wrong. But then his ma died of a raging infection in wounds she’d sustained working with an injured bolli, and Dinun had lost one of his staunchest supporters before he’d turned twenty. Sora filled the gap a little way, but their relationship was based on commerce more than affection. Without his mother, Dinun had been exposed to the small-minded

censure of a small-minded town. He knew more dirty secrets than he bet old Lopi would ever imagine existed, but officially, he was the only male in town who preferred other men. So what was the Angel doing, exposing himself like that? Offering? Boasting? Having a reaction to the physical stimulus? Moon was perfect, even with the injury. Angels had a reputation for bewitching all who beheld them, and now Dinun understood why. Moon only had to turn that liquid green gaze on him and Dinun felt like doing anything he asked. Not that this was the reason he was helping, Dinun sternly told himself. The fact that he had a big, beautiful… Get a grip. Moon was injured and desperate to find his child. Dallying with someone from a different species…race, at least…was probably the last thing on his mind. Probably. Dinun rinsed out the cans and the leather, and walked back with fresh water. Moon was eyeing the cooking birds on the fire. “You’re hungry?” “Yes. You. Anger.” ::Worried:: “No, I’m okay. I uh…was surprised. Not angry. You didn’t do anything wrong. How do you feel? The wing, I mean.” “Pain. Small.” ::Relieved:: “Good. Here, have some of this.” He set a plate of cooked fowl meat on Moon’s good side so he could eat while Dinun finished dressing and binding the injury. Amazingly, even the burn marks seemed to be fading. All this would have fascinated his mother. Dinun didn’t have the training to describe accurately what was going on. He suspected if he tried, it would sound magical, which wouldn’t endear him to the settlement council. Moon docilely permitted Dinun to bundle him up in the cleaned doem skin. “Tomorrow. I. Fly.” ::Determined:: “Probably.” He finished fastening the clips to keep the skin secure and turned to find himself almost nose to nose with the Angel. “Uh.” “Dinun.” ::Grateful::

“Uh, you’re welcome.” Moon’s huge eyes seemed to draw him in. Dinun couldn’t make himself look away, but then he jumped as Moon lifted his hand to touch his face. “Dinun. Kin.” ::Pleased:: “I suppose we are. I mean, we have the same skin and your fur’s like my hair—” Moon cut off his nervous babbling by the simple application of his lips. Dinun froze in shock. No one had kissed him before, and certainly not— Moon’s good arm went around him and pulled him closer. Dinun had enough presence of mind not to jostle Moon’s injured side, before he gave himself over completely to the feel of Moon’s firm mouth and eager tongue. Moon tasted of roast meat and something else that was just him. His tongue sliding against Dinun’s made Dinun shiver, and he didn’t know why lips felt so good against his mouth, when he didn’t think his own were that sensitive. It was like…all of it together was a kind of magic. Not just the lips, or the tongue, or Moon’s hands, or the tingle of excitement as Dinun felt the very edge of Moon’s teeth. It was all of it together, until his mind filled with pleasure, his body coming alive, until every touch made him want to climb inside Moon’s skin just to be closer to him. It was nothing like anything he’d imagined before. Ever read about. Even in his loose fitting trousers, Dinun felt a bit cramped, urgently needing relief, and against his stomach, Moon’s erection was hard and insistent with the Angel’s little thrusts making it clear what Moon wanted. But Dinun had never… He slid down Moon’s silky legs until he was face to face with the long slender cock, so dark and perfect. This, he was confident he could do right. He’d had enough practice behind those stinky old stables. Moon stroked Dinun’s face as he sucked, determined to make this the best blowjob he’d ever given. None of the men in the settlement had ever touched him or kissed him, had even spoken to him as they pushed him to his knees. Moon didn’t speak either but Dinun was immersed in pleasure coming from his companion, assured of his value by the gentle caresses, the intense desire and approval Moon sent in pulses towards him. Dinun stroked behind Moon’s cock where the small, tight balls were hidden by more luscious fur, dared to explore the swell of narrow buttocks and the tight cleft. But it was Moon’s

cock that fascinated him. Sweetly shaped and sensitive to the lightest pressure, it responded to every caress, every slight movement, shivering and jumping as Moon shivered and jumped. Dinun thrilled at the reactions he wrought, so different from the stolid grunts and ignorant thrusts of the men in the settlement. Moon came in one tidy, polite spurt and a flute-like vocalisation, shockingly loud after his habitual silence. Dinun swallowed and licked the unfamiliar but not unpleasant taste, resting his head on Moon’s thigh until the Angel got his breathing under control. Then Moon tugged Dinun up again so he could kiss him and pet his earlobe affectionately. “You.” ::Grateful:: “You’re welcome,” Dinun whispered, his voice all husky from emotion. Spirits help him, Moon was beautiful. Moon tugged insistently at Dinun’s pants but didn’t seem to know what to do to release him. Dinun quickly undid his belt and buttons, pulling his erection free. “Please?” His wanton need washed away all embarrassment at being so bold but Moon sent a little wave of admiration at the sight of him, which made Dinun flush hot and feel like a giant among men, all at the same time. Moon kissed him again as he put his hand on Dinun’s cock, Dinun kneeling spreadlegged to give him access. It didn’t matter that this was the only way Dinun had ever come. What mattered was that it was someone else’s hand for once, and a hand of someone who responded to him as a person, not a dirty, secret convenience. Moon’s grip was strong and knowing, his mouth commanding Dinun as his hand stroked Dinun to a quick but powerful climax that left Dinun panting and hungry for…something. Something more, he guessed. The appetite woken in his belly would not be sated with a handjob, but it was more than a start. Blessed spirits. He’d just had sex with an Angel. He’d just had sex. At the age of twenty-eight, he was no longer a virgin. Mostly not, anyway. He’d had sex with an Angel. Wow.

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