Wishing on a Blue Star (15 page)

So folks, if I’m scarce online for a while, it’s not because I’m a Neanderthal dragging my knuckles, but because I’m human, getting more so every day, and probably hanging tree ornaments with my family.

Heaven on earth for a cranky guy who lives under a rock. :)

Patric

P.S. Why the goofy title? Because I started this post after finally getting a place made for everyone to bed down. Whew! This is a little house!

In the Light ~ A Five Dark Realms Tale

Lex Valentine

Weylyn awoke with a sense of foreboding.  For a happy-go-lucky werewolf, the sensation of evil lurking seemed somewhat dramatic. In the normal course of things, Weylyn adored dramatic. But dramatic coupled with the sensation of bad things afoot was not the norm for a guy who spent his nights playing rock music in a band, his days sleeping, and the time in between getting his “were” on. Bad things didn’t happen to Weylyn.

He rubbed his head. The sensation did not go away. Placing a hand on his chest, he could feel the uneven cadence of his heartbeat. What. The. Fuck?

Beside him, the sheet stirred. He glanced down at his lover, Drake Keating, and found his deep blue eyes glowing in the darkness.  Normally, the wizard’s eyes didn’t glow. He had to be involved in some heavy-duty wiz thing for his eyes to look all freaky.

“Wey, your eyes are glowing too.”

Drake’s voice held a note of wariness Weylyn had never heard before. He paid no attention to Drake reading his thoughts—the wizard did that on a regular basis—but the tone of his voice had Weylyn alarmed. Nothing shattered Drake Keating’s composure. Under pressure, Drake smiled and laughed. He did not
ever
show concern or wariness. Tonight, his voice held both.

“Something’s wrong.”

To Weylyn, when something went wrong, his manager or his roadie fixed it. He didn’t have intimate knowledge of how to fix anything. Except maybe someone’s broken libido. He could fix that well enough.

When his cell phone rang, neither of them jumped. They looked at each other with the expressions people had when they knew the ringing of the phone was a harbinger of things they did not want to hear. On the first ring, Weylyn decided he wouldn’t answer it. On the second ring, he realized he’d better. On the third ring, he picked it up and said, “Hello?”

“Weylyn! It’s Grant. How are you?”

The pleasant voice on the other end of the line made Weylyn frown. Grant was a fellow werewolf from a neighboring pack. They’d hung out in the past, drinking and picking up guys at a local bar. Grant had always been good company and a great friend. Weylyn hadn’t ever had sex with him, but that was mostly because Grant swore Weylyn wasn’t his type. But they’d been friends for years, despite Weylyn’s often long absences from home while on the road. And even though they’d been friends for years, it wasn’t like Grant to call in the afternoon when Weylyn was sure to be sleeping.

“I’m good, Grant. Just hanging with Drake. What’s up?” Weylyn couldn’t keep the cautious tone from his voice. Something smelled wrong, and he had a very good sense of smell.

“I’m at a bar, and I thought I’d see if you could meet me so we could have a few drinks and get caught up. I don’t get to see you very often anymore.”

Weylyn’s eyes went wide with shock. Something definitely was wrong. Grant’s voice sounded just a hair too casual, and the werewolf never drank during the day, even the late afternoon. He and Drake exchanged worried looks. As much as he rarely stirred before dusk, he’d have to now. He needed to discover what was wrong with Grant.

“Sure, Grant. Just give me some time to shower and get there,” he told his friend in a voice carefully devoid of worry. “Where are you?”

“I’m hanging out at
In the Light
. It’s a bar in the Shadoworld. I think you’ve been here before,” Grant said. “I’m sure you’ve told me about playing here.”

Weylyn’s frown deepened. He had played the bar before, several times. And he’d never liked it. Being a musician meant he often had to travel the Five Dark Realms, going where the gigs took him. The Shadoworld always gave him the creeps. The realm existed on a plane between the Darkworld and the Afterworld. Its nebulous origins were said to have come about because of Fallen Angels. The Angels’ home was the Shadoworld, but they moved between the realms as befit the jobs they did, alleviating suffering and saving children who had died from an eternity in the Afterworld. Weylyn had never understood who, besides the Fallen Angels, lived in the Shadoworld, or why they would want to. The place always screamed “haunted” to him.

“Yeah, I’ve been there a couple of times,” Weylyn admitted, a little grudgingly. He wished Grant had chosen a bar in the Darkworld. He hated being at the mercy of a portal for travel. He preferred cars, motorcycles, and limos. Even cabs were better than a portal, although considering how most cab drivers drove, not by much.

“Good! Then I’ll see you soon?”

Grant’s voice held a note of insistence that rang alarm bells in Weylyn’s head.

“Yeah, sure. Save me a stool, and don’t eat all the peanuts, would ya?” Weylyn joked, trying to act as natural as he could with every nerve ending screaming at him that something was very, very wrong.

“I won’t. Bye, Wey!”

Grant hung up, and Weylyn turned to Drake.

“I gotta go,” he said gruffly.

Drake brushed a lock of hair off Weylyn’s forehead and leaned in for a quick kiss that normally would have heated his blood. After the call from Grant, Drake’s sexiness couldn’t even rouse a lick of interest in Weylyn’s libido.

“I know. I heard,” Drake murmured. “What do you suppose is wrong?”

Slipping out of bed, Weylyn padded naked toward the bathroom. “No clue, but I sure as fuck do not like this.” He looked over his shoulder, his gaze catching Drake’s. “You’ll set me up with a portal?”

Drake nodded with a crooked smile. “Do you even have to ask? It will open a couple of blocks from the bar, just in case of trouble. When you’re ready to leave, it will appear in the same place and bring you right back to this room.”

“Cool.” Weylyn let out a heavy sigh. “If I need you…” He let his voice trail away, and he swallowed hard, unable to put into words the plethora of dire circumstances that flitted through his ever-imaginative brain.

“You know how to get me there in a matter of moments.” Drake smiled at him in a way that Weylyn knew should have been reassuring. Unfortunately, the darkness that had settled on him just before his phone rang sucked away any attempt he made at thinking everything would be okay. All of the signs pointed to the opposite.

Weylyn showered quickly and dressed in his usual uniform of faded, button-fly jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, and heavy boots.  He looked up from fastening his boots to find Drake in a pair of sweats, his muscled chest bare, conjuring a portal for him. For a moment, Weylyn wished he could just ignore the phone call from Grant and take Drake back to bed. The wizard might not be his mate, but they’d been lovers and close friends for several years. Weylyn relied on Drake to balance him sometimes when his creative side got a mite too creative and he forgot to ground himself.

He stood up and walked toward the portal that gleamed with golden edges as if light seeped around the edges of a closed door. With a resigned sigh, he reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of Drake’s neck, pulling him close for a languid kiss filled with tongue and promise.  He stroked his palm over the wizard’s bare chest.

“You are almost too hot to resist,” he murmured as he pulled away.

“Almost?” One of Drake’s golden brows rose in a sardonic expression.

“Yeah, almost. You’re not hot enough to keep me from doing the right thing. Something’s wrong with Grant, and I need to find him and help him. Then I can come back here and suck your cock,” Weylyn said wryly.

Drake chuckled. “You always do the right thing, especially when you suck my cock.” He slapped Weylyn on the ass. “Get out of here. Call me if you need me.”

Weylyn dipped his head in a nod. “Will do. And Drake? If I’m not back here in a few hours, you might want to come looking for me,” he said on a serious note as their gazes met. “You felt it too. Something is really wrong.”

“I know. And I’ll be ready to come after you if I need to. Now, get going.” Drake gestured toward the glowing portal.

Taking a deep breath, Weylyn stepped through the portal and felt his stomach twist with nausea like it did in a super fast elevator headed downward many flights. The scent of damp night air hit his nostrils as he found himself on a wet, cobbled street beneath a dim street lamp. The Shadoworld had very little daylight, and most of it had a gray, overcast sky. Even though it had been late afternoon in the Darkworld, the Shadoworld’s time was several hours later, and night had already fallen.

The darkness of the realm made Weylyn shiver. The impenetrable shadows unnerved him. No matter how bright the street lamps were, they barely made a dent in the stygian darkness. He looked around and got his bearings, recognizing the street. The bar was only a couple of blocks away, so he started walking, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, shoulders hunched against the damp air.

Resisting the urge to keep looking over his shoulder, Weylyn hurried to the bar. A block from its doors, he saw the white neon sign, “In the Light,” jutting out from the side of the brick building. His steps quickened, and he reached the door moments later.
Pushing it open, he stepped into what looked like an upscale honky tonk. Despite the sawdust on the wooden floors, the long bar gleamed with brightly polished brass rails and rows of glittering glasses hung behind it, close at hand for the bartenders. Black leather stools, deep black leather booths and chairs complimented the weathered brick walls, beams and wood trim that glowed with the rich patina of age. Even the green baize-covered pool tables with low hanging beer lights fit the décor of roadhouse meets trendy tavern.

A hunched figure sat on a stool at the end of the bar, near the windows. Weylyn pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto a coat rack as he headed toward his friend Grant. As he approached, Grant lifted his head, and Weylyn barely stopped himself from recoiling. Grant didn’t look anything like his usual self. His dark eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw stubbled, and faint bruises could be seen beneath the skin covering his cheekbones. He seemed almost gaunt, definitely rumpled, and worse for the wear.

As he slid onto the stool beside Grant, Weylyn said, “What the hell happened to you, dude?”

Grant shrugged and fiddled with his beer mug. “Got in a fight. It’s no biggie. Doesn’t hurt.”

Weylyn signaled the bartender to bring him whatever Grant was drinking. “You should have shifted. Would take the bruises away.”

The internal alarms that had gone off inside him earlier were back, ringing louder and clearer than before. Weylyn had a tough time shaking them off so he could concentrate on Grant.

“They don’t bother me.” 

Weylyn could tell Grant didn’t seem to want to discuss his appearance, so he reached for the bowl of peanuts and took it from his friend. “I thought I told you not to eat all the peanuts,” he said jokingly.

Grant snorted and pulled the bowl back, but not before Weylyn snatched a handful of nuts.

“You always tell me to save you something to fuck too, but it should be me saying that to you. No matter where we go, we run into people you’ve been with,” Grant complained. “A guy like me always ends up with the scraps!”

The bartender set a mug in front of Weylyn, who handed him some money and told him to keep the drinks coming.  After a sip of his ale, Weylyn eyed the grin that quirked up a corner of Grant’s mouth. He tried not to stare at his friend’s swollen lower lip.

“Is that why you’re here? You’re trying to get yourself one of the Fallen Angels?” he asked, determined to find out why Grant was sitting in a bar in the Shadoworld looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

Grant shook his shaggy blond head, his face taking on an expression of mock disgust. “Are you kidding me? You’ve had all of them too!”

Weylyn laughed in spite of his worry. He’d always loved Grant’s sense of humor. “Actually, I don’t think I have. I’ve certainly had more of the females than the males. And I’ve been hanging with Drake again, so I’m not in the market tonight. All of which is good news for you, my friend,” he pointed out with a grin.

Sipping his ale, Grant shot Weylyn a wry look. “You’re trying to get me laid?”

Blinking in mock innocence, Weylyn said, “But of course! What else would a friend do?”

“Fuck the only guy in the bar I’m interested in.”

Grant made a face, and Weylyn could barely contain a laugh. He loved bantering with Grant.

“You have to bring that up again? Geez, man. You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No.” Grant popped a few peanuts in his mouth. “You are the only guy I know who can get laid without even trying…without even wanting to! A guy tells me he’s a power bottom and asks me if I’m interested. Before I can even reply, ‘Hell yeah!’ you’ve got him topping
you
!”

“That only happened once,” Weylyn protested. “I didn’t know you’d already been talking to him when I met him in the men’s room.”

Weylyn felt the sting of guilt. It was true that he’d ended up with more than one guy whom Grant had had his eye on. Not that he’d meant to. Every time it had happened, he hadn’t known Grant was interested in the guy. His friend tended to be really low-key about his sexuality and wasn’t a blatant prowler like Weylyn. Grant never broadcasted his sexual preferences, but Weylyn knew that he revealed it easily because his gaze never followed women, only men.

“I can’t believe there are Fallen Angels you haven’t fucked,” Grant grumbled and finished his drink. The bartender brought him another one instantly.

“Dude, I swear to you, I haven’t been with that many.” Weylyn tried to edge the peanuts closer as he watched his friend.

Grant eyed him in mock disbelief. “Still don’t believe you, but I’ll find out later. I’m not yet in the mood to go chatting up the men in here only to find each is just another in the long list of your conquests.”