Chapter Five

CARY WOKE UP suddenly, his mind clutching futilely onto the fragments of the nightmare. He couldn’t remember what had scared him so much, but his heart was racing and his skin was clammy with cold sweat. He sat up, taking deep, steadying breaths. The stale air left a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Next to him, Ty stirred and turned to face him, instantly awake. The room was dark, but the streetlights shone enough through the narrow gap in the curtains that Cary could make out his silhouette on the other side of the bed.

“Something wrong?” Ty asked, his voice husky from sleep.

Cary shook his head. It must have been all the excitement of the previous evening messing with his head or something. He touched his chest, where the amulet used to hang on its chain. Its absence felt like the phantom pain of a missing limb, and his lungs constricted as if he was suddenly out of air.

“Just a bad dream,” he said, swallowing hard. “Sorry I woke you.”

“S’okay,” Ty said, relaxing again.

Cary lay back down, facing away from him, and tried to do the same, but this time sleep wouldn’t come. He was still tired, but now he was too wound up. Having another person in bed right next to him, radiating tantalizing body heat, didn’t help either. A mental picture of Ty’s naked form under the blanket—completely imaginary but no less appealing for it—sprang unbidden to his mind and refused to go away, not matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

“It’ll pass soon,” Ty said suddenly, making Cary start guiltily.

“What?”

“It happens sometimes with strong magic. The withdrawal. Less intense than with drugs, but just as dangerous in the long run. That’s why you need to be more careful when using it.”

“What do you know,” Cary muttered, staring at the wall. The shadows painted strange shapes on the plaster, all sharp edges and wrong angles, pulsing in time with his heart. He blinked, dispelling the fancy.

“Believe it or not, I know quite a lot. It’s my job,” Ty said.

Cary turned around to face him. Ty’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, reflecting the faint light, their warm hazel color indistinguishable now in the darkness.

“What is your job, exactly?”

“People in the occult community pay me to get them the objects they want. Books, artifacts, ancient relics, you name it. If it’s magic, I’ll find it.”

“‘Occult community’? What is that, some kind of secret society where you meet up wearing robes and chant at each other under a full moon?”

“It’s not a cult,” Ty said. “There is no secret society that governs magic practitioners. Not the real ones, anyway. But there aren’t many of them. They do tend to stick together, or at least know about each other. And there are some basic rules they adhere to, which are mostly based on simple common sense.”

“Do these rules allow you to be a thief?” Cary asked, and then immediately regretted his tone as, strictly speaking, he was probably the last person who should have been giving anyone a hard time about thieving.

“When it’s expedient,” Ty said. “I’m can also be a businessman, or a mercenary, or a grave robber when I have to.”

“If you’re a part of this community, does that mean you can you do magic, like that lady did?”

“I’m a thief, like you said, not a sorcerer. I only get magical stuff for people who can do actual magic and use them. I don’t…have the talent for it like most of them do.”

“If you’re not a sorcerer, or whatever, how come you know so much about it? How’d you get into this business in the first place? How does one find out about this secret underworld you got going there, anyway?”

Ty was silent for so long Cary thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“I was lucky to be picked up by a sorcerer thief,” he said finally. Cary felt the reluctance in Ty’s voice, as if he wasn’t sure admitting this was a good idea. Or maybe it just brought up some unpleasant memories Ty was hesitant to share with someone he barely knew. “His name was—is—Leland Bernard. I was young, basically living on the street. He took me in, taught me all he knew. Not just magic—the little I could take in, with my limited abilities—but the basics of his trade. How to do research, how to plan ahead, how to break in and get out without being caught on cameras, that sort of thing. He was my mentor for many years.”

“Do you still work with him?”

“We parted ways some time ago,” Ty said with a finality that made Cary swallow his next question.

There was a pause as each of them became lost in their thoughts.

“You could have offered me money for the amulet,” Cary said accusingly, but with much less vehemence.

“Would you have accepted?”

Cary thought that over.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “I wouldn’t have. It really did belong to my grandfather, you know. He raised me all on his own.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I was too little to remember when my dad left, but my mom took it kinda hard. She died in a car crash when I was eleven. She was DUI. So my granddad took me in. He was a stage magician, had been since the seventies. He taught me all the tricks, but I wasn’t into magic at all when I was a teenager. I gave him a lot of grief back then.”

John Westfield hadn’t been the perfect parent. He hadn’t had the first clue about raising a grieving child. While he still had his health, he was too busy with his shows and appearances to pay much attention to Cary beyond dragging him along to hang out backstage, just on the edges of the limelight. He couldn’t make sure Cary kept up with his schoolwork or monitor his questionable friends, but he had cared about him, in his own gruff but kind way, and tried to provide for him as best he could. He was the only family Cary had. It certainly wasn’t his fault that Cary went out of his way to make life difficult for the both of them.

Cary didn’t know why he was telling Ty all this. Most likely, he didn’t care either way, but at least he was willing to listen. Even in the darkness, Cary could feel the intentness of his gaze.

It was almost embarrassing how much he missed his granddad, and it was the first time since he’d died that Cary was actually talking about him with someone else. And he never had the chance to say goodbye, or say he was sorry. His granddad died suddenly of a myocardial infarction last year, when Cary was still serving his sentence for grand larceny. Granddad’s stage name and his collection of magic show paraphernalia, left in his rental apartment and storage unit, was all that was left of him. That was where Cary had found the amulet, just lying there in a pile of other trinkets and cheap jewelry. For some reason it had caught his eye, though it wasn’t nearly as gaudy as the other stuff. It felt nice in his hand when he’d picked it up, almost warm, so he’d tucked it in his pocket without thinking. At the time he thought nothing of it. The whole magic act came much later, and then it proved invaluable, as mind-boggling as it was.

He was silent for another moment and then added bitterly: “That amulet… It was my only chance to make it. I’ve invested everything in this gig. I’d just begun breaking even. I don’t know how this magic thing works, but it did, and it made everything work. And now…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He couldn’t make it all work without the amulet. Ty was right—that thing could do real magic, and it wasn’t just a trick of his imagination. When he was wearing it, anything he did on stage enthralled the audience; his illusions appeared to be real acts of wizardry. All he’d had to do was recreate his grandfather’s old act from forty years ago, pepper it with some fake mind reading, jokes, and smooth talking, and the audience was ready to eat out of his hand. And now it was all going to slip away like smoke.

“Hey.” Ty pushed himself up on one elbow. “Listen, if you’re serious about this whole stage illusionist thing, you don’t need the amulet to succeed. Sure, it helps a lot, but you can make it on your own, even if it means you’ll have to work harder.”

“Thanks for the input.”

“I mean it. I’ve watched you perform. You’re a natural. The crowd loves you. Your repertoire needs refreshing, but you’ve got the knack for the stage, and that’s what’s important.”

Cary said nothing, mulling over this unexpected encouragement. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d rarely had people express support for anything he did, and this brusque praise threw him off balance.

All of a sudden Ty’s presence was too acute, as if his words had created a new link between them, filling the space with something more tangible than the darkness. Acting on pure instinct, Cary reached for him, closing the distance between them. Ty recoiled slightly at the movement and then held himself still as Cary ran his fingertips tentatively across his jaw.

“I thought you didn’t want me poking you,” Ty murmured.

“Maybe I’ll do the poking,” Cary replied and leaned in to kiss him.

Ty’s skin was still sleep-warm, but he was definitely wide-awake now. His lips were a little chapped, but the kiss was sweet, slow at first, and then growing gradually more heated. It was good, and it was something simple and familiar, something Cary could lose himself in for a while and not think about all the weird shit going on around him. He pushed the other man flat onto his back and slid down, throwing off the covers. Ty’s muscles bunched and relaxed under his touch, and he could feel the light dusting of hair on his chest, the long jagged line of scar tissue on his right side. Ty shifted under his touch, and Cary moved down again, sliding over the hard abs and settling between Ty’s legs.

Ty was still wearing his briefs, but Cary helped him out of those, taking his time to run his hands over thighs and abs. He couldn’t see much, but Ty definitely felt fit. Just like he’d imagined. Muscular, but not overly ripped. His cock matched his build perfectly, sporting a nice length. It hardened rapidly under Cary’s hand, the velvety feel of it fueling his own need.

“I don’t have anything on me,” he said, regretting for the first time that he wasn’t in the habit of keeping condoms and lube in the pocket of his costume trousers.

“Me neither,” Ty said. He shifted, pulling slightly away, but Cary could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint. The hell with it, he thought, there were other things they could do. No way this was going to end in them taking turns jerking off in the shower.

“I want to suck you,” he suggested.

Ty barked a laugh. “Won’t say no to that.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. Cary dove in straight for the prize, taking it deep into his mouth, putting his lips and tongue to good use. Ty moaned and gripped his hair almost painfully, but eased the hold when Cary made a noise around his cock. That was okay. They were finding the right pace, the things they would both enjoy. Cary worked his mouth, and Ty made tiny thrusting motions, his hips barely lifting in an effort not to fuck his mouth, something Cary actually wouldn’t have minded. Still, he appreciated the consideration. He was kind of surprised Ty wasn’t more selfish in bed, all things considered, but it made him want to do that much better.

Cary paused for a moment, letting Ty’s cock out of his mouth with a long lick, ignoring his groan of protest. He wet his fingers and pushed gently against the tiny hole even as he bore down again, sucking with renewed effort. Not all guys liked that, but Ty seemed to be entirely on board with the idea, as he swore softly under his breath and thrust harder, pushing up into Cary’s mouth and then impaling himself on his finger.

If Cary wasn’t so damned horny, he would have tried to prolong it. He liked the little sounds Ty made, the feel of hard muscle under flushed skin. But he was too on edge to draw it out. He was thrumming with nervous energy that clamored for release—so different from his earlier fatigue it seemed unnatural. Perhaps Ty was right about it being a side effect of withdrawal or something, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. He sucked hard and twisted his finger viciously at the same time. Ty’s fingers tightened in his hair, and he came with a restrained grunt.

Cary pulled away just in time to get spatter on his chest, but being covered in Ty’s come did nothing to dim his arousal. He was so hard he was about to burst, and almost whimpered with impatience.

“C’mere,” Ty whispered and pulled him upward. The traces of his release smeared between their bodies, mingling with sweat. Ty was still breathing heavily, his body now slack with satiation, his skin deliciously warm. But apparently, he was determined to make sure Cary had a turn, because he palmed his erection and gave it an encouraging tug. “What do you want?”

Cary didn’t care how Ty was going to get him off, so long as he did. He ground against Ty’s hand in lieu of a coherent answer, with tiny frantic thrusts, desperate for more friction that would send him right off that excruciating edge. Thankfully, Ty seemed to get the gist, because his grip tightened, one hand pumping Cary’s cock and the other squeezing his ass. It was messy and graceless, with them moving out of sync, their bodies bumping awkwardly at first. But after a few frustrating moments they fell into a sort of a frenzied rhythm, a purposeful race to the finish. Cary buried his face in Ty’s shoulder, the scent of him—damp earth mixed with musk and cigarette smoke—filling his nostrils. For a second, he imagined himself fucking Ty in earnest, pushing into that tight heat he’d only gotten to explore with his finger, and the thought sent him flying. Waves of pure rapture washed over him, drenching him in sweetness as he spurted all over Ty’s hand and into the tight space between their bodies.

For a few moments, Cary lay there, his heartbeat in time with Ty’s as it gradually slowed. He felt boneless, drained of whatever jittery mood that had overcome him. All he wanted was to draw the duvet over the both of them and sleep for a week in the comfortable warmth, but unfortunately, that wasn’t how things worked. Cary rolled over to his side of the bed with a supreme effort. He really should get up and get cleaned, he thought, closing his eyes. At the very least he should make sure Ty had as much of a good time as he had. But he just couldn’t summon the energy. The last thing he remembered was Ty shifting on the bed next to him, and the touch of a blanket on his bare skin.