GARETH

I was in the gardens when Mr. Jenkins and Wes Newton returned.  I was walking amongst the trees, which I often do when I can't sleep very well.  Many of them were magically enchanted to grow in the wrong climate.  I found the setting peaceful, a soul-edifying atmosphere in which to think. 

It was nearly dawn, and I was adding a tiny bit of magic to the root systems, to make them stronger.  Winter could be difficult for magically-induced plants, and these required more upkeep than they were getting.  I could spare a bit of magic, and I had always been good at the delicate, sensitive magic this required. 

Try as I might, I could think of no way out of my predicament.  It seemed likely I would only drag Silus down with me.  His talk about inviting important men from the ministry and proving we weren't able to uncover the missing magical object, and then telling them we would resign was all very well in theory, but not terribly practical.

Besides, Silus loved his job.  Should he really have to quit for me?  And would he feel the same way for very long?  He'd certainly left me easily enough when we were in school together and he'd gotten a better opportunity. 

But he seemed so devoted and caring now. 

Still, this could be—and probably was—no more than an interlude in his life.  Silus was not a man given to deep affections.  I could feel our magic growing together, as well as our hearts lately, and most of the time, I was fairly confident that I wasn't just a source of good sex to him, that he truly cared about me as deeply as he was able.  But that did not mean it would be forever, or as deeply as I felt about him.  Even when I didn't want to, I couldn't seem to stop having strong feelings about Silus.  All the wrong sorts, usually.

Anyway, I was walking in the gardens when I heard Wesley Newton and his lover, Kit.  It was just past dawn now.  Some of the staff were up and about, doing things, but most were still rising.  Though there was a nip in the air, Kit and Wes were out here.

"I couldn't wait," I heard Wes say to his boyfriend.  "I know it's not Christmas yet, but it'll be so busy then.  I want you to have it now, and...and I hope you will like it," he added awkwardly.

"Well, as it happens, I have a gift for you, as well...."

I faded back between the trees, drawing a gentle don't-see magic around me, a thin gossamer sheet of magic.  I began to back away so I wouldn't interrupt their scene—or eavesdrop further.  I had no right.  But they would certainly not feel comfortable if I walked past them now and broke the mood.  No, I would back away and leave by a different path.

Before I quite managed it, something soft brushed against my leg.  I looked down: the soft gray cat with the wise eyes, the one we hadn't quite dared to name, had just rubbed against my ankles.  She looked up at me with her clear green eyes.  I smiled and reached down to touch her automatically.  Her eyes squinted shut a little.

While I was distracted, they had exchanged gifts.

"Oh," Wes was saying.  "You...you got me a watch!"  He sounded flabbergasted.  I glimpsed the gleam of gold, a perfectly balanced pocket watch, with some silver in it too.  The song of the metal called to me; precious metal, and even some precious stones in there somewhere.  It was a small glowing thing, magically speaking, because it was filled to the brim with love.  Sometimes objects were like that: made with such strong emotions put into them that they retain some of it throughout their lives.

"I made it from spare parts," said Kit shyly.  "Do you like it?"

"I love it.  It's the best watch I've ever had—the best watch I've ever even glimpsed."  He gave his boyfriend an impulsive kiss, and then a deep, loving one. 

I had stopped leaving.  I stared, mouth open.  The love just sang off of them, rolling waves of emotion I could feel with my magically attuned senses.  It made me feel very wistful.

"Darling, will you open mine now?" asked Wes, still holding Kit.  A few snowflakes had begun to float down around them.  Snow wasn't as irritating to my senses as rain; I hadn't noticed till now.  Wes reached up and brushed away a few from his lover's hair and shoulders.

"I hope you didn't spend much," said Kit, opening a little box and glancing up at Wes shyly through his lashes.  "It's a jewelry box."

Wes laughed softly, sounding proud of himself.  He nodded. 

I stood stock-still and watched.  The cat weaved her way round my ankles, purring lightly.  I appreciated it; I needed someone to care about me right now.  Very much so—even if it was just a little cat.

"Oh," said Kit, hands flying to his mouth.  "But—"  He gazed up at Wes as if he'd hung the sky and lit the moon.

"Let me put it on for you," said Wes gently, a bit of happy laughter touching his voice.  My throat hurt.  "I hope you know what I mean by this—what I've always meant."

"I—I do.  Oh, darling, me too!"  He hugged him and kissed him, and then at last drew back enough, shaking a little, and laughing tearfully, for Wes to slide a thick, masculine silver ring, rather like a signet ring, onto his wedding band finger.  Wes raised his hand and kissed it.  "I know you might not be able to wear it always—"

"Oh.  Oh, but I shall!  Oh, Wes, my dear..."

I backed away, my throat hurting, my eyes fogged.  I reached up and removed my glasses, rubbed at my eyes, and cleared my throat.  The cat sprang away, chasing some small movement among the grasses.  They shouldn't be alive in the winter, but they were, and consequently there would be some sort of creature living there as well.

I made my way back to the house.

Last night, I had asked Silus what he would like for Christmas.  He'd laughed till he had to wipe his own eyes from sheer mirth.  "Don't tell me you follow all that nonsense."

I hadn't said anything else about Christmas or presents, just changed the subject.

"Robert?  Is that you?" called Mr. Skeffield as I scraped my boots and entered the house.  Snow fell faster now, anxious to reach the ground.  I hoped the cat would be okay outdoors, but I was growing shivery and sorry for myself and needed to hide away somewhere.  Apparently I couldn't make it past the front room, however, without being called.

"N-No sir," I managed. 

"Gareth?" he said.  "That is your name, isn't it, young man?"  He squinted at me.  He held something in his hand, a small object that seemed to glow with some internal magic.

I stepped closer slowly, reluctant to be drawn into conversation when I was feeling this way.  I needed to be alone, to not have anyone look at my face for a while.  Someone else's happiness should not make me so miserable.  And yet it had: I was heartbroken. 

Silus would never be the sort of man to declare undying love, or buy a romantic present.  He was the sort of man who could tire of me at any moment and sever our ties completely.  He had done so before, so I certainly knew he had it in him.  And, along with the magical problems I was in, this made me incredibly unhappy.  I had always hated Christmas, I decided: there was never anything good about it, when you were poor and rather unloved.

"I thought you were my son, but I suppose he's busy.  Never mind, come closer.  I need help putting this on top of the tree.  I'm not climbing that ladder at my age, and I hate to wake anyone else.  You can affix it with magic, or climb up—your choice.  Only it mustn't break.  This is older than either of us, my boy."

"Yes," I said slowly.  I reached out, my eyes widening with wonder, and accepted the trinket he so trustingly handed me. 

It was a small glass globe, with two parts to it.  The inward one rotated slightly, constantly, and there was a glow.  The colors mixed and twined like a kaleidoscope with multicolored glass beads.  I almost thought I could see animals running, and complicated mathematical patterns in them, but each time I almost saw something, the pattern changed, morphed into something different.  The harder I concentrated the less I saw; when I barely looked at it from the corner of my eyes, I thought I saw running reindeer.  Then a train, chugging away into the distance.  The whole time, with my magical way of sensing, I heard a faint, sweet chiming sound, like the notes of a clear Christmas bell.

"It's beautiful," I managed faintly.

He chuckled.  "It's been in the family for generations.  We use it every Christmas atop a tree.  It's tradition.  Now, if you'd help me.  I'd like to surprise my son—and my daughter.  She'll be arriving today."

I looked at the tree.  The ornament.  And then at him.  "I don't think I can do that, sir," I said slowly.

My life passed before my eyes, with two choices before me.  I could give the ornament to the ministry—properly, in a way that didn't let Bauer and the men he was mixed up with steal it—or I could take it, run, and sell it to the highest bidder.  Make myself hay while I could, and then go on the run from all the forces that might choose to be against me. 

For a moment, I could see each way clear, unwavering: duty or risk, bravery or cowardice.  And yet each way required more courage than I could currently command.  And my throat hurt terribly.  If I ran, or took the object for Bauer, or did anything but the right thing—I would be hurting my dear Silus, betraying him. 

And I was a coward there.  I always would be.  No matter what he did or would do to me, I couldn't hurt him on purpose.  I wouldn't.

And so I swallowed and held my hands out to him, the ornament, the precious bauble cupped in my hands, my voice croaking anxiously.  "I'm afraid this is the thing the ministry's been hunting.  You'll have to turn it in, I'm afraid."

He just stared at me.  "What?  How can you tell?"

"I'm very good at intricate magic, sir.  I can see if it's unlocked, this will be—something rather special."

"Nonsense," he said, taking it from me almost roughly.  "It's no more than a family heirloom.  Pretty, perhaps, and with a bit of magic, but nothing more."  He looked at me, turned it over, and looked at me again, frowning.  "Why, it's been near any number of magically aware people over the generations.  I'm sure someone would have noticed.  You're talking nonsense."

"I wish I was.  No, that's it.  They'd not have seen it unless they were looking.  It's very delicately done.  The magic you sense on the surface looks like a light but carefully done enchantment created to make it pretty.  In reality, it's an intricate enchantment designed to mask and protect the powerful magic inside.  One would have to look very closely and know a great deal of intricate magic to see it."

"And you do, is that right?"  Mr. Skeffield's nostrils flared a little.  He looked seriously pissed off with me. 

I nodded sadly, almost wishing I hadn't spoken.  I wasn't sure if Silus would have seen it—or even if I would have, if I hadn't held it in my own two hands.  From the top of the tree, it would look like a glittering, pretty little thing—decorative as Louie, perhaps, but nothing mysterious or powerful.

"I'm afraid he does, Mr. Skeffield," said an amused voice.

I whirled to see Bauer, a grin on his face and a gun in his hand.  It was aimed casually at Mr. Skeffield.  "Hand that over, if you will.  I'm afraid it's mine now."  He looked at me and smiled.  "Excellent work, Silverman.  It's almost a pity I can't leave either of you alive."

I didn't move; I barely breathed.  Skeffield's life was too valuable to bargain with, especially to all who cared about him, who gave his life meaning.  Unlike me, he had a huge variety of people in his life that he mattered greatly to. 

I silently tugged at the magic inside, the place where I was connected to Silus, tugged as firmly as I could.  We were connected again these days, from being together.  Sometimes I thought we were connected more strongly than before.  I knew he would sense me, perhaps understand I needed him, immediately and desperately.

And that was all I could do magically.  Bauer was stronger than me in every sense.  So I did the only thing I could do.  I stepped between him and Skeffield.  "I can't let you shoot him," I began.

Around the corner stepped a familiar, trim, and supremely handsome figure—Silus.  He walked smoothly, swiftly, and silently up behind Bauer, raised a poker, and hit him over the head.

The gun went off, but in an oddly muffled way.  Smoke puffed and it made a barking sound, oddly muffled, but there was no bullet.  I looked down, searching my chest quickly, but no.  I was unharmed. 

I glanced back at Skeffield—and then rushed to him to help him sit down.  We put the ornament—the magically locked secret treasure object—on a little table, and he held a hand to his chest, closing his eyes.  "I'll be all right," he mumbled.

"Call his son, or a doctor—somebody," I said.

Silus reached up and tugged a bell-pull beside the doorway.  Then he stepped over the unconscious Bauer.  The blow had been forceful; it had messed up Silus's hair, he'd put so much power into it.  Or else the odd not-explosion of the gun had done that.  All around us, the air still tingled with magic.  He looked disheveled and wild and dangerous—and extremely beautiful.  He leaned on the poker.  "Found it, have you?"  And he grinned at me.  "Do you know, I think I might just want to celebrate Christmas this year after all?"

I made a strange, strangled sound in my throat.  I was not going to cry; I was not.  But he had already been on his way to me, before I called.  He had known I was in distress.  And...and he had come to me.  I moved closer to him.  I was going to take him into my arms and kiss him the way Wes and Kit had kissed each other.  It was more than my life was worth to resist.

His eyes held startled but pleased laughter, and he opened his arms to receive me, letting the poker drop.  He kissed me back just as warmly, just as passionately.  And I knew, I knew that there was more to work out—more difficulties ahead, especially with the magical ministry, and perhaps between us.  But I also knew I loved this man deeply, and he loved me more than I had ever been loved before.

He had known I needed him...and he had come to me.  Even before there was a life at risk.  That meant something to me, on a deep and profound level.  I might not have answers to what the future held, but perhaps...perhaps we would be sharing it.

When we drew apart, he laughed a little, messed up my hair, and said, "Come along, Silverman.  There's work to be done.  The police and the ministry to contact, and the object to transport.  Any idea what it does, by the way?"

"What does anything magical do?" I mumbled.  "Whatever you want it to do.  What about the gun?  How did you stop the bullet?"

He winked at me.  "I might tell you—someday."

I rolled my eyes.  Because wasn't that just like Silus?