Branded (12 page)

You had better be.
José wanted to voice that thought but didn’t get the words out.

He didn't say much at all until he found himself in the hut of the village’s best, oldest and wisest medic. Or so he had been told. They had stopped Asher's bleeding and put bandages on him and… José wasn't sure what else. Everything had happened in a rush and they weren’t telling him much.

Asher was lying on a bed in front of him. Every few seconds he heard him breathe.

“He’ll be okay, right?” José asked.

The medic stepped away from Asher and toward José. “I’ll be honest with you.” His voice sounded sharp, practical, and devoid of emotion. “He’s lost a lot of blood and his magic reserves are almost non-existent.”

“But he can recover from that.”

“You see,” the medic started, the way people often started when they had something unpleasant to tell you. “Your friend's a dragon.”

José raised an eyebrow.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.

“Dragons are shifters, which means they use magic to heal their bodies. Your friend doesn’t have any substantial amount of magic left.”

José gritted his teeth, turning the words over in his head. “So what you're trying to say is…”

“I can't help him, and he can’t help himself.”

“There's got to be something you can do!” This was exactly why he hated doctors. They spent years studying and going to expensive schools and learning to run all sorts of stupid tests on you, all so they could tell you there was nothing they could do.

“There's not much I can do,” the medic insisted. “I can give him something for the pain, I can delay the inevitable, but I can’t stop it.”

That wasn’t the medic’s fault, but José still wanted to throw something at him. He raised his hand to his mouth, and for the first time in years, he bit his nails. “That can’t be right.” Rising panic made him feel cold all over. This was like that day they’d told him he was going blind.

“How committed are you?” the medic asked then.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there is nothing I can do, but there is something you could do.”

“I’ll do it. What do I have to do?”

“Bind him to you,” the medic said, as if it was self-explanatory.

“Excuse me?”

“I know it's not common anymore,” the medic walked around the room, pulling books from shelves by the sound of it. Paper rustled and the smell of dust rose up. “It’s a bit risky, granted, but that’s the only thing I can think of.”

“I don't know what that means.” José tried not to sound too exasperated, but damn, he needed answers. “What do I have to do? Why's it risky?”

“Oh, it's not difficult. It shouldn't be. It's only that, you see, you can't get his consent in the state he's in. That’s always a bit tricky. You’ll have to break his spirit before he wastes too much energy on fighting you off.” Pages turned. “They're outdated, these forced pacts, but in a situation like this? What else can you do?”

José pinched the bridge of his nose. Forced pacts. Binding. What the hell was that all about? Did it matter if it would save Asher? Had to be better than dying, right?

“This is going to help him? This… binding stuff?”

“You see, I’ve never had a chance to try this before… In fact, I only received this book this morning from a passing traveler, if you would believe it.”

José took a deep breath as he made himself stand still instead of grabbing something and flinging it at the medic. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But there’s a chance it’ll help.”

“It’s the only chance.”

“What do I do?”

“First you hold out your hand so I can cut you.” The medic grabbed for José’s right hand as he spoke. “We need a little blood to draw the symbols.”

José was officially lost as he let the medic work. He pressed his lips together as the sharp end of the knife cut across the flat of his palm.

The medic dabbed his fingers in José’s blood. “There, all done,” he mumbled, and José could only assume that he’d drawn some magic symbols on Asher. “Next we have to put them on you, too. Turn around, I’m going to put it on your shoulder.”

José turned. The medic smeared blood onto his skin. Probably not José’s own. Had to be Asher’s.

This spell had better work
.

“Now repeat after me,” the medic said once the bizarre body paint was in place. He spoke words in a language that José didn't understand. José felt like an idiot trying to repeat what he’d heard.

Asher's breathing changed, becoming shorter and irregular, like he had trouble getting it right.

José hesitated, but the medic kept dictating words for him to repeat. Unsure what else to do, José spoke after him. When the last word had left his lips, the medic grabbed José’s hand and pressed his bloodied palm against Asher's skin.

José’s palm burned at the contact. He heard Asher gasp and then he didn't hear anything anymore. It was as if he’d been removed from his body, as if he’d been pushed underwater and the current was pulling him forward.

An obstacle blocked the way, a foreign sort of energy that didn't want to let him pass. It pushed at him to go away. If energy could have attitude, this one would be talking trash about his mom now. But when it came down to it, there was no fire behind the spark.

José pushed forward and broke through the barrier, stomping all over it with his non-existent feet. The medic had said something about crushing Asher’s spirit. José hadn’t thought it would be quite so literal. He hadn’t thought it would be so easy, that it should be so easy. But he didn’t have time to feel bad about it.

There was a lot of noise. The thumbing of a deep bass, people talking, glasses clinking. The air smelled like cigarettes. Neon colors flashed in front of his closed eyes. Perplexed, José blinked his eyes open and saw tables and people and bar stools in front of him.

He blinked again, rubbed his eyes. What was happening? He dreamed in color sometimes. Was he dreaming now? He couldn’t be sleeping. What about Asher?

Squinting his eyes, he looked around himself. He was clearly standing in a club.

A green haired girl pushed past him and he took the chance to grab her arm. “Excuse me, but where am I?”

The girl stared at him, open mouthed, a vacant look in her eyes.

“Um… something wrong?” José asked. When he got no reaction, he let go of the girl, and she vanished. Alright. José stared at the spot where she’d just been. Obviously this wasn’t real. But then, what was this?

The other people in the club were mostly male. A lot of them simply standing around. A couple were drinking by the bar. If he got closer to them, maybe José could overhear what they were talking about. All of them seemed fit and athletic, but José’s eyes were drawn to the blond in the middle. He was pretty, no doubt, but you could tell that he knew it, too. He looked around the club like he owned the place, and when his eyes settled on José, they made José’s heart stop for a moment; he’d just been targeted.

The pretty blond came over to him and the other guys froze, probably as unreal as the girl had been.

“Hi there, stranger.”

That voice! José would have known it anywhere. “Asher?”

Asher’s eyes searched his face, as if trying to remember him. “Have we fucked before?”

Yeah, this was definitely Asher.

“Blind Guy?” Recognition lit up his face. José wanted to hug him, even in spite of the stupid nick name. He just looked so damn healthy.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

The music stopped in the background. Asher looked down, losing the air of self-assuredness he’d radiated before.

“Wait,” he said. “Am I dreaming?”

“I think so.”

The scene blacked out. The next thing José knew, he was breathing in salty air, sand beneath his feet. The dream landscape had transformed into a beach. Asher sat in the sand with his back to him, wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans and some earrings. José sat down next to him. Asher’s manicured nails drew lines in the sand. He looked thoughtful, like he was trying to figure out what was going on.

Gulls cried in the distance, and a sea breeze went over José’s skin. It all felt too real to be a dream. With what was going on in reality, José didn’t want to wake up. And he couldn’t take his eyes off Asher—alive and breathing and trying to flirt with him like nothing was wrong. José wanted to tackle him to the ground and touch him all over, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“Whatcha staring at?” Asher said, raising his eyes at him. Then, “Are you actually staring at me?”

José found himself smile. “Your dream,” he said. “Guess you want me to see.”

“I do!” Asher seemed to forget about the absurdity of the situation. “So you like what you see?”

“I guess so,” José said. Asher was attractive, but he didn’t need José to tell him that.

“But it’s still no?” Asher locked eyes with him, and José was caught. Eyes were something he couldn’t understand by touching, something he couldn’t see with his fingers. He didn't need to know that Asher’s hair was blond to enjoy the silky feel of it, but his eyes were normally closed off to him. They were the color of the sea, only more intense. They were beautiful.

And José didn’t know how to respond to Asher’s advances anymore. That Asher was pretty shouldn’t change things, and it didn’t, but there was something about him right now. Something José couldn’t quite put his finger on before Asher leaned in to kiss him.

It was a lot like that time around the fire, only it was not. Then, José had blamed his reaction on a momentary lapse in judgment, now, he didn’t know what to blame as he pulled Asher closer. Asher’s skin was warm under his fingertips. It felt different than last time, softer. When their lips brushed together, that felt different too. More intimate somehow, sitting here like this. Asher smelled of cinnamon and José found himself wondering whether that was the body wash he used back home.

José wanted to pull him closer, but Asher broke away, looking confused. Overhead, the sky darkened as if dusk had set in early.

“You shouldn't be here.” Asher sounded as if he didn't quite understand what he was saying himself. “What's going on…?”

“I'm don’t know, but—”

“Oh, shit,” Asher cut him off, staring at something behind José. José turned and got one glimpse at something that produced a lot of flames and black smoke, and then he saw a lot of sand as Asher tackled him to the ground. “You're not watching that! That's my dream!”

“What—”

“Get out!” Asher pounded his fists on José’s back. If José had known how to 'get out', he might have respected that wish, but he didn't, so he raised his head and got another look at the scene in front of him. Something was burning. Seemed like a house.

“Damnit! Don't look, Blind Guy!”

In any other situation, José would have laughed at the irony of that statement. He opened his mouth to say something to try and calm Asher down. But he never got a word out before the scene faded around him and he lost his sight. Back to reality, he guessed. The blindfold was back in place around his eyes too.

He didn’t know how he’d ended up on a bed, but he was lying on something soft and faintly smelling of straw. The skin on his hand and shoulder still stung where the blood had been, but that didn’t matter. He swung his legs over the bed and got up.

“Come over here,” the medic’s voice cut through his thoughts. José found his heat signature and walked over to him. Beside the medic, Asher sounded like he’d just run a marathon. He was moving too, thrashing on the bed.

“What’s going on with him?”

“He’s going to hurt himself. Give me your hand.” The medic just grabbed it instead of waiting for José. “Tell him to calm down.”

José felt his hand pressed against Asher’s skin, and though he had no clue what was going on, he did as he was told. “Calm down, Ash,” José said, feeling a little ridiculous. But Asher actually stilled. He was still breathing a little fast, but he stopped moving.

“What just happened?”

“Sit down.” The medic guided him to a wooden chair. “We can safely say now that the spell worked. That dragon has been bound to you. This gives him access to your magic, of course, which he should be using for recovery.”

Frowning, José felt for his powers. Something was different from before. A foreign presence, another energy lay beside his own. It wasn't his, but at the same time, his for the taking if he wanted it. The energy was barely noticeable now, but it grew at the same rate that his own power lessened.

“I think it works.” José released a breath. “He’ll be fine now, right?”

“I think so. Now, I hope I can trust you not to abuse your power?”

“My power?” The medic wasn't talking about fire manipulation, was he? What exactly had that spell done?

“My, you really don't know anything, do you?”

José shook his head. Unfortunately, no one had bothered to give him a crash course in binding magic since he'd gotten there.

The medic sighed. “Maybe I shouldn't have done this, but once put into place, the spell is irreversible. That dragon is bound to you now.”