London Nights

The Lost Boy of Curry Lane

“In family life, love is the oil that eases friction, the cement that binds closer together, and the music that brings harmony.” - Friedrich Nietzsche
 

The grand old house on North Hill, Whitechurch Manor, has been looking down towards the sprawling city of London for centuries. Its inhabitants have come and gone, its halls been filled with life and almost abandoned time and time again.

Now, it’s the home of an eclectic family not connected by blood but by the bonds they share, the connections they forged and the feelings they hold for each other.

Whitechurch Manor, with all its darkness, its haunted past and forgotten secrets, has again become a haven for those who thrive in the world which is hidden from human eyes and yet right in front of them.

Today, the great house on the hill will welcome a lost soul. And death may follow in its wake.
 

---
 

“It’s so good to have you back with us.” Rebecca “Becky” Stanton followed Richard around the kitchen of the “St. Rita Shelter of the Lost”.

The shelter was located in London’s East End, more precisely in Whitechapel close to Brick Lane with its countless curry restaurants. Many of the owners donated to the shelter, causing it to gain the nickname “St Curry Shelter” for its common menu. Not that anyone complained because a hot meal was a hot meal and Brick Lane’s curries were famous in London.

The many tourists who were following the plethora of tour guides along the gruesome steps of Jack the Ripper’s murder spree barely got to see the uglier side of Whitechapel. The drug dealers, the homeless, the misery which was present whenever one looked beyond the veil of tourism. And even further beyond yet another veil, Whitechapel knew a lot of supernatural crime and poverty, too. Maybe it was the familiar air of a place where the lost were gathering which had drawn Richard, who himself had been homeless for years, to this particular shelter to volunteer.

He had fast become a beloved member of the team and also well-liked among the people who came here for a place to sleep or a hot meal, in part because of his natural charm as a member of the fae but also because he was always helpful and kind. Everything he had wished for when he had been lost.

It was his first day back here after months of absence, partly spent in the arid climate of the Rub al Khali desert. There, he, his boyfriend Tariq, his “big brother” (they weren’t actually related, but who cared?) Velkan and Velkan’s partner Jonathan had been drawn into a battle with an ancient demon that used an enchanting form of magical flora to build an army of slaves. One of those slaves had been Tariq’s older brother Farhed.

Tariq had stayed behind in the village he grew up in to help his family care for his brother who had been injured during the fight. Richard was counting the days until his boyfriend was back in London even though he suspected that Tariq dreaded the idea of going back to the cold weather of the British capital.

However, Richard had voiced those doubts during their latest skype session (after they had released some penned up energy together in front of the webcam, though) and Tariq had simply chuckled and blown him a virtual kiss.

“I hate the cold but I love you. So guess where I want to be.”

Thinking about this made Richard smile. A smile Becky obviously thought was meant for her because she blushed violently.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Richard said quickly and brushed some strands of hair out of his face. He knew of the effect he had on people, on some more than others, a gift - and sometimes a curse - that he shared with another member of their household, Castor McCrimmon.

And his fae charms obviously worked very well on poor Becky, who had a crush on him ever since they had started working together at the shelter.

“Did you enjoy your holiday?”

Which part? The mad dash across the shifting desert sand as the demon turned the very soil against them? Or the moment when they had entered the caves the demon dwelled in and Velkan had become possessed by the spores of the demonic plants? Or maybe when Tariq had thought that his brother had just been killed, which had prompted the Ifrit to manifest never before seen powers as he had burned everything to ashes, including the demon and the poor geologist whose body the creature used as a vessel.

“Absolutely.” Richard replied instead. “We had a great time.”

“We?”

“Oh, my boyfriend and I.”

“Your…” Richard could almost see the moment that Becky’s heart broke and he felt bad for her but what was the point of giving her false hope? She pulled herself together surprisingly fast. “Well, we got work to do.”

“We do.” Richard smiled warmly and instantly the blush returned to Becky’s cheeks. She couldn’t help herself.

He left her to carry a tray with several bowls of curry out into the dining area of the shelter. It was relatively quiet tonight. A few regulars were sitting around, one group was playing cards while they ate, one man, his name was George, was browsing the Evening Standard, the free newspaper which was available at every Tube station. The room was relatively barren but the volunteers had tried their best to make it inviting by adding flowers to the simple metal tables and hanging up pictures on the raw brick walls.

Richard greeted another volunteer, Peter, who was just cleaning up some spilt curry from a table. As he moved further into the room, he suddenly felt a change in the atmosphere. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge and his wolf senses picked up a strange new scent even with the spicy curries almost covering it.

Richard looked around and noticed a young boy, maybe 14 or 15, who was sitting alone in a corner. No one paid him any attention. However, Richard could see right through the shimmer which obviously kept the other people in the room from seeing who was sitting among them. The boy’s shoulder-length jet-black hair was swept back and revealed pointed ears with an unnatural black tint which seemed to shine purple in the harsh light of the room.

Richard went over to the boy and set down a bowl of curry in front of him. The boy sat up with a start and stared at him with large, purple eyes. Glowing purple eyes.

“Tha… thank you.” he muttered.

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.” Richard shifted the weight of the tray to one hand. “I’ll be back in a moment. I would like to talk to you.” As he said that, he brushed his wild light ginger hair back with his free hand and revealed his pointed fae ears. The boy’s eyes widened but he nodded.

“Okay.”

“Great. Give me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Richard hurried to hand out the other bowls and nodded at the boy encouragingly before returning the tray to the kitchen. As he came back, the boy was gone. The bowl stood where he had been sitting, untouched.

“Peter!” Richard waved his co-worker over. “There was a boy, over there in the corner. Did he go to the gents?”

“No, I think he left.”

“Goddammit.” Richard groaned. “Why didn’t you stop him? He was clearly a minor.”

“I didn’t see him leave either, just when he was already gone.” Peter shook his head. “I would have stopped him otherwise. But I think he forgot his coat. It’s still on the rack.”

Richard looked in the direction his co-worker was pointing and saw a black, raggedy coat on the rack on the wall. Most of the homeless didn’t take off their coats out of fear that someone could steal them. The boy’s coat was the only one hanging there.

“Perfect!”

“What? Mate, it’s cold out there.”

“Erm… sure, I mean he’ll probably come back for it.”

“Oh, I see.” Peter shrugged and returned to his duties. Even though he felt bad for abandoning his colleagues during his shift, Richard waited for Peter to go back to the kitchen before he hurried over to the rack, grabbed the boy’s coat and slipped out of the building into the evening’s fading daylight.
 

---
 

Richard had barely left the shelter when he ran right into a group of tourists who were following a guy in a cape and a top hat. He bumped into a young man who cursed in German because he had dropped his phone but as he picked it up and stood to look into Richard’s face, the surprise and anger turned into a smile.

“Aber hallo.” he said before switching to English. “I mean, hello. Didn’t know the British were so direct.”

Richard reciprocated the smile. “You are losing your group.”

“Bitte? I mean, what?”

“Your tourist group. They are almost around the corner.”

“Was? Oh Scheiße!” He seemed uncertain whether to abandon his group or follow them.

“Thomas, wo zum Teufel bleibst du. Beweg deinen Hintern hierher!” another guy from the group called out.

Thomas the German looked positively forlorn as he sighed and, with a last hopeful smile that seemed to say “Stop me and I’m yours”, turned around and hurried after his group. Richard chuckled. Two in one night. In moments like these, he was relieved that Tariq wasn’t human. He had been once but now, as an Ifrit, he was immune to the charm of the fae. His feelings for Richard were genuine, not caused by magic.

Getting back to the task at hand, Richard held the inside of the coat to his nose and inhaled the scent of the boy. He had never smelled something like this before. Everyone had a distinct scent, Tariq’s was embers, while Sydney, another member of their household, smelled like a lush forest beneath the expensive perfume which he wore. The closest term Richard could think of to describe the scent was petrichor, the smell of earth after the rain, but there was something else. Whatever it was, it was distinctive enough for Richard to pick it up among the thousands of scents of the city. It was fading fast so Richard focused all his wolf senses on it and followed the trail.

It led him into the alleyways which tourists barely tread. The sunlight was almost gone, the sky began to darken over London. Soon, Whitechapel would change. The change was gradual, but it could be felt, especially with senses like Richard’s. Not as much on the main tourist traps like Curry Lane but here in the hidden corners of the town.

The trail made a sudden turn onto an abandoned property. The weathered sign of a building company hung at the gate. At some point someone had planned to bulldoze this entire complex and turn it into luxury apartments. However, gentrification hadn’t quite reached Whitechapel yet and the project’s completion date was seven years ago. A perfect hideout.

The trail continued towards a door which had been left slightly ajar and further into the abandoned building, past rusty barrels and long-dead conveyor belts, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the old factory. His eyes made it easy to see in encroaching darkness but it was the warm glow of light which guided him the rest of the way.

As Richard stepped into the small space which had been turned into a makeshift home, memories came flooding back to him. It was as if he had entered a time capsule which brought him back to Glasgow over five years ago.

Candles creating a false sense of warmth and homeliness, a pile of smelly blankets and a pillow pretending to be a proper replacement for a real bed. A small box of belongings, clothes, way overdue a wash, torn and scattered. Even a pile of books. Richard's books (and his teddy bear) had been his most valuable possession and the thing which kept him going through the nights on the street.

It all came back to him in a rush of conflicting emotions, only heightened by the figure of the boy he had been following here, huddled in the corner by the rusty radiator, staring at him with wide glowing eyes. The boy’s long spider-like fingers with the sharp nails were clenched around his slim wrists. Richard couldn't tell what he was, but both his fae and his wolf senses picked up on the magic of the boy.

"Stay back!"

"Sorry, I didn't want to startle you." Richard held up his hands calmingly.

"You're the guy from the shelter."

"Yes." Richard smiled and inched a bit closer, ready to stop if the boy demanded it. "My name is Richard."

The boy was he five years ago. Lost and alone. And at this moment, Richard decided that he wouldn't let that continue.

“Kearon.”

“That’s a nice name.” Richard squatted down a few feet away from the boy to bring himself on the same level and not appear threatening. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I recognised that you were like me and… I don’t know, I just… “ He shrugged a little helplessly. “I know I seem like a stalker, but I have been where you are now and so…”

“You wanted to help?” Kearon said almost matter-of-factly.

“Yes. And bring you back your coat.” Richard held it up.

Kearon eyed him for a moment and again, Richard recognized himself in his behaviour. The suspicion, the paranoia, that a possible helping hand might actually mean harm. Living on the street chipped away at one’s faith in people. Finally, Kearon relaxed. He sat back and reached into the box next to his makeshift bed and produced a bag of crisps.

“Want some?”

Richard smiled and nodded before he moved a little closer still and sat down next to Kearon.

During the following hour, Kearon opened up to Richard much faster than he had expected. What broke the ice was when Richard started talking about his own time on the streets of Glasgow. A shared experience like this, especially at such a young age, Richard had been 14, and as it turned out Kearon was only a year older, made it easy for both of them to relate to each other.

Richard explained what he was and how he had come to live on the street. He was a fae-wolf hybrid and his mother, a member of the Seelie Court, had given him up since she wouldn’t take a bastard child with her to the court. Telling this story never stopped hurting, even more so since Castor had told Richard more about the Seelie Court and its aloof inhabitants. He simply wasn’t good enough for his mother and he hated the bitch for that.

Before the anger could overwhelm him, Richard steered the conversation into a different direction by asking Kearon what he was. The boy explained that he was a member of the fae, too, and had run from home to escape his abusive father after the death of his mother. He had been on the street for half a year now.

At some point, Richard went over to Brick Lane and bought two curries and some soft drinks. He had offered Kearon to come along but the boy preferred to stay in the factory. He was still there when Richard returned.

They ate without talking much as Kearon was clearly starving for a proper meal. As the bowls were finally empty, Richard knew that it was time to make a decision. It was past 11 pm and he had to catch a night tube home at some point.

“Look, Kearon…”

“You have to go.” The way the boy said those words made it abundantly clear that he had been dreading the moment. And Richard could relate to that all too well. Loneliness was the worst part of sleeping on the street. Especially during the endless nights.

“Yes, but…” Richard ran his finger through the wild mob of ginger hair on his head, something he did subconsciously when he was nervous. “Listen, I know this will sound completely insane and you have no reason to… but… would you come with me? I don’t want to leave you here.”

“With you?” Kearon’s eyes narrowed. “Just like that?”

“I know it sounds, well, I guess suspicious.” Richard smiled a little sheepishly. “I live in a mansion in Highgate.”

“A mansion?!”

“Yes, the guy who found me on the street and took me in, Velkan, the mansion belongs to his sister-in-law, Elisabeth Whitechurch. It’s a huge place, a little spooky, but beautiful. It became my home. We’re a family of sorts there, a weird one but a family.”

Richard produced his mobile from his coat and switched through the countless photos of Tariq until he reached some he had made of the house and garden and also of Velkan making goofy faces.

“He looks nice.”

“He is.” Richard smiled. “He’s the best, really. He saved me, gave me a new life, a new family.”

“You love him.”

“With all my heart, yes.”

“I don’t know what to do…”

“Okay, let’s do it like this: You come along and have a look and I talk to Liz. Even if you don’t want to stay, Liz is loaded, as is Velkan’s family so they might be able to help you.. Everything would be better than this.” He gestured at their surroundings.

Kearon avoided Richard’s eyes for a moment, looking into the darkness beyond the candlelight as if he waited from something to emerge from the shadows. Richard could tell how torn the boy was but then Kearon nodded slowly.

“I’ll come with you.”

The House on North Hill

The advanced hour meant that only the Night Tube served the extensive public transport network of the city. They had to hurry to catch the train so Kearon decided that he would only gather a few absolute necessities in his rucksack before following Richard to the station. The rest would hopefully be safe at the hideout until he could come back for it.

Over an hour later, they emerged from Highgate Tube Station and made their way through the quiet streets.

Highgate had been a distinct village outside of London until Victorian times before it became part of the city. Today, it was one of the most expensive suburbs to live in. Efforts were made to preserve the character of the town with its many old houses, churches, pubs and landmarks.

Highgate was most notorious among tourists for its cemetery, one of the Magnificent Seven of London. Among the trees, headstones and ivy-covered mausoleums rested the remains of such famous figures of history as Karl Marx, but also the late singer George Michael and writer Douglas Adams. Richard knew that Velkan went to visit Adams’ grave from time to time to leave a pen for the writer, as many of his fans did.

Highgate’s location on top of North Hill meant that one had a rather spectacular view of the inner city of London from here. In the far distance, the Shard, the skyscrapers of the borough of the City of London (with its three most distinct ones mockingly called “Gherkin”, “Cheese Grater” and “Walkie-Talkie” by Londoners) and Canary Wharf were lit up brightly against the night sky.

Whitechurch Manor’s position on the outskirts of Highgate was preserved by a lot of money spent by both Elisabeth and her husband Tobias and a lot of favours called in at Whitehall. The stately mansion had remained solitary while London was spreading, protected by money and the belt of historic woods and green expanses around Highgate, untouched by the changing times. It looked down towards the pulsing heart of London as it had done for centuries.

Kearon became very quiet as they walked up the driveway towards the gate. Beyond it, past the overgrown garden, Whitechurch Manor loomed in the distance. The house had once been a monastery, Ecclesia Alba, the “White Church”, before the land and property had been taken from the church in 1540 during the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII. Almost a century later, the estate had found its way back into the hands of what was today the Whitechurch family. Whitechurch Manor had grown around the former monastery, expanding upon it time and again during the centuries, creating an eclectic mix of architectural styles.

Today, half a millennium later, not even Elisabeth Whitechurch, the last heir in a long line of owners, knew exactly how many rooms the house really had. Large parts of it were sealed off, some had fallen into disrepair and left in darkness. Their secrets remained and the haunted house on the hill had become a bit of an urban legend among the people of Highgate.

Richard noticed the way Kearon’s purple eyes were fixed on the mansion.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I know it looks spooky but... well, it is spooky, but it’s more of a home than you might think.”

“I’m not scared. This is brilliant. I love dark and mysterious places like this.”

“Are you in for a treat then.” Richard chuckled and pushed open the heavy gate far enough for them to slip through before he closed it again. “We need to circle around and take the servants entrance into the kitchen. The front door is probably locked at this time and I only have keys for the back. Don’t want to wake Steven.”

“Steven?”

Richard smiled sheepishly. “The Butler.”

“You have a butler?!”

“Just one. It’s not that we have a big staff or anything. Just Steven, a cook, Mrs Gunderson, and Shelley, the maid. People aren’t really keen on working here. A lot of ghost stories about the mansion.”

“And are they true?”

“I love how excited you sound.” Richard chuckled. “You’ll fit right in.”

They went around the house through the overgrown garden. Richard knew the way past the hedges, crumbling stone gazebos, ponds and wildflower patches in his sleep. Of all the inhabitants of the house, he was probably the one who knew the grounds and the mansion best, even some of the corners of it which had been forgotten and left adrift in the flow of time.

There was light in the kitchen so Richard suspected that Mrs Gunderson was still up. He was proven wrong as he unlocked the servants' entrance and stepped inside, followed by Kearon.

“Take that!”

“That’s not fair! Zelda can teleport out of the way!”

“That’s why I’m playing as my girl. She’s wiping the floor with your furry Pokémon arse!”

“Oh, just wait and see, I’ll get you!”

Richard and Kearon watched for a moment as Velkan and Myra were completely lost in their video game. They had set up the mobile part of Velkan’s Nintendo Switch on the kitchen counter and sat in front of it with controllers in hand and surrounded by bowls of crisps and soda cans. Velkan wore one of his washed out Legend of Zelda shirts as he usually did around the house and grey sweatpants while Myra almost seemed to disappear in the green hoodie which she was wearing. It was definitely one of Velkan’s.

Richard cleared his throat a little louder than necessary to get the attention of the two video gamers.

“Why in the kitchen?”

“Steven doesn’t bother us here about coasters and crumps.” Velkan grinned wolfishly. He noticed that Richard wasn’t alone and paused the game to stand up. “Richard Winters, Tariq is only gone for two weeks and you start bringing boys home?”

Richard signed in affectionate exasperation. “Get your mind of out of the gutter. This is Kearon. And he’s 15, so behave yourself.”

Velkan came around the counter. His hair was even more tousled than usual and his dark beard definitely needed to be trimmed. As he held out his hand to greet Kearon, his smile was almost as bright as his amber-coloured eyes.

“Velkan Ionescu. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi… I’m Kearon. Gosh, you’re tall.” Kearon stared up at Velkan while they shook hands.

“Yeah, can’t argue with that.” Velkan winked. “And this.” he turned and gestured at the Japanese girl who watched Kearon with widened eyes. “Is Myra. Don’t worry. She stares like this sometimes but she’s perfectly harmless. Myra? Earth to Myra!” Velkan snapped his fingers. “Sweetie, you with us?”

“This is amazing!” Myra awoke from her trance and jumped off the chair, the hood slipped from her head and revealed her jet-black shoulder-length hair tied back into a ponytail.

“I never thought I would meet one in person.” She hurried over but then stopped abruptly and bowed to greet Kearon in the traditional Japanese way.

“Sweetie, I think you’re scaring our guest.” Velkan said.

“Gomen nasai.” Myra folded her hands. “I’m just so excited. I never thought I would meet a Banshee. You are so reclusive.”

All eyes converged on Kearon who seemed to shrink into the torn shirt he was wearing. He backed away and almost looked as if he was ready to run.

“You’re a Banshee? But you’re a boy.” Richard said. He didn’t know much about Banshees but one thing he knew for certain, they were a rarely seen female-only race.

“How… how did you…?” Kearon stammered.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. It’s a gift I have.” Myra blushed. “I didn’t mean to… I was just…”

“Everyone calm down.” Velkan smiled at Kearon. “Everything is okay, you don’t have to be scared. Do you want to sit down for a moment? We can talk about it if you like.”

Richard felt a rush of love for the older wolf. This was the Velkan he remembered from Glasgow. The impressive 6’5 guy with the muscular frame and the heart of gold who could make everyone feel safe and welcome.

Kearon gazed over at Richard who simply nodded. That seemed to be enough for the boy to accept Velkan’s invitation. They sat down at the kitchen table and Velkan fetched crisps and cola.

Richard admired Myra’s restraint. He could clearly tell that she was about to burst, countless questions ready to be asked but she clung to a can of Coca Cola and stuffed her mouth with prawn cracker crisps in an attempt to allow Kearon to speak.

And speak he did. As if he had only waited for a moment to let all of this out, he started to talk about how he had always felt out of place in Banshee society, how deep inside he had always known that he was a man, not a woman. And how he finally had found someone who was willing to change him into the right body, for a price of course. Richard wanted to ask where Kearon had gotten the money from but the subject seemed to embarrass the boy and so he kept quiet, suspecting that he might have resorted to theft.

“However… when I finally had this body…” Kearon stared at his long spider-like fingers. “Well, I found out the hard way that Banshees don’t accept men around.” He absentmindedly played with a broken piece of crisp on the table. “I lost my powers, it seems, at least I can’t summon them anymore and… well... “

“You had nowhere to go.” Richard finished. “Velkan, we have to help him. He can’t live alone on the street. I could talk to Liz and…”

“She’s at the townhouse.” Velkan leaned back in his chair. His sister-in-law often stayed at the townhouse that Velkan’s family owned in Belgrave. From there, her husband, Velkan’s younger brother Tobias, had a shorter commute to Whitehall. Tobias was a career politician, everything Velkan wasn’t and never wanted to be even though he loved his brother dearly.

“Tell you what, you take Kearon upstairs and show him your room. He looks like he could use a shower and a change of clothes, too, no offence.”

“None taken,” Kearon smirked even though his pale cheeks flushed.

“Then you get some rest and I’ll tell the others that we have a guest. And everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

“But we have to…”

“Richard.” Velkan’s voice sounded stern but warm. Sometimes he had to remind Richard that he wasn’t just his best friend but also his elder. “You know that I won’t just kick him out on the street again, but you have to be patient.”

“Alright.” Richard sighed but he knew Velkan was right. And he trusted him. So he stood up and smiled at Kearon. “Shall we go upstairs?”
 

---
 

Richard had picked a room for himself which had once been used as part of the servants’ quarters under the roof of the mansion. This hadn’t been a choice to detach himself from the others but driven by the fact that the room had a wonderful view of the city and the adjacent hallway featured a door which led directly into the library. Though, in hindsight, it also provided a nice sense of privacy for him and Tariq.

Richard’s room was now almost an amalgamation of him and Tariq. The Ifrit had left his mark on the decoration and had moved a lot of his stuff into the spacious room which had once been the home to at least five to ten servants.

Now it was filled to the brim with bookshelves and knickknack which Tariq had collected on his travels with Jonathan and stored in their various safehouses across the continent. Elisabeth had arranged for it all to be brought into the mansion as it became clear that neither Tariq nor Jonathan would leave again. Several strings of fairy lights were strung among the beams of the angled roofs and created a warm glow as Richard switched them on.

Kearon stood in the middle of the room and turned on the spot, taking in the sights around him.

“This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“And I’m sorry.” Kearon walked over to the window and gazed out into the night.

Richard opened a smaller door on the far side of the room which led to the closet which he shared with Tariq now, too. The faint smell of embers made him smile. Tariq’s scent, left in his favourite clothes even after they had been washed.

“I get it. You were afraid of how I would react.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No. I lied a lot too when I lived on the street. It comes with the territory.” Richard closed his eyes and leaned against one of Tariq’s shirts, drawing in the scent. “I miss you, big guy,” he whispered before taking another shirt, a pair of boxers, sweatpants and socks.

“Here, those will probably be too large but you can get out of those clothes for now after you took a shower.”

Kearon stood next to the bronze-framed daybed. He had been admiring the colourful canopy but had turned his attention to the picture frame on the nightstand now.

“Is that the guy Velkan mentioned?”

“Tariq, yes.”

The photo showed Tariq and him in swimmings trunks at Brighton Beach with the famous pavilion behind them. They were hugging and forming a heart with their fingers. Tariq had his dark dreadlocks tied back into a ponytail and the pierced ring in his nose sparkled in the sunlight.

Richard thought he looked impossibly pale next to Tariq’s bronze skin. The Ifrit was also several inches taller than him. Richard hadn’t been blessed with height, the only people in the house who were smaller than he was were Myra and now Kearon. And he had always been pale, he got a sunburn rather than a tan if he tried and there were some blemishes left on his cheeks from when he had suffered from acne.

Then again, aside from Sydney who was ridiculously perfect, everyone in the house had their little imperfections like Jonathan and his scars, with three of them always visible on his cheek, his nose and his left eyebrow, or Castor’s freckles, though Richard thought those were rather adorable on the tall broad Kelpie with the thick ginger beard.

“So you’re gay?”

“I’m bi. I think Tariq is gay, but we don’t really talk about this.” Richard smiled. “Here.” He handed the clothes over to Kearon. “The bathroom is the door outside in the hall.”

Kearon reached out for the clothes but then hesitated.

“What is it? I know the shirt looks a little boring, but…”

“No, it’s not that.” Kearon finally took the pile from Richard’s hands. “I’m just… I’m just worried. All of this is so amazing and what if…”

“I won’t allow that you are being kicked back out onto the street, Kearon.”

“Why? Why are you doing this, though? You don’t even know me that well. We only just met.”

Richard smiled warmly. Of course, the boy was right. It was all a bit insane and happened so fast, but in his heart, Richard knew it was the right thing to do.

“I told you that I see myself in you. I was lucky enough to be shown kindness and to be given a home. This house has more rooms than I can count. It can be your home, too. No, it will be.”

Kearon looked at the clothes in his hands. “I guess… well, I guess I’ll go take a shower then.” He was blushing and avoided Richard’s eyes.

Drawing Room Conversations

While Richard and Kearon were sharing this moment high under the roof of Whitechurch Manor, Velkan and Myra had managed to gather the other inhabitants of the house in the drawing room on the ground floor. Once everyone was settled, Velkan explained the situation.

As he mentioned the newcomer’s race, Sydney sat up. His red velvet robe rustled as if fell around him on the chaiselongue. Velkan had interrupted him and Castor at a rather inopportune moment.

While Sydney had decided to throw on the dramatic robe, Castor was sitting there in nothing but a pair of boxers. His ginger hair cascaded around his face and down to this broad chest, and all of his impressive tattoos were on full display due to his lack of clothing. Velkan could clearly tell that Myra desperately tried not to gawk. She definitely was gawking, though, clutching her soda glass a little too tightly. She had confided in Velkan about her crush on the kelpie and she knew it would never go anywhere but moments like this were hard on the poor girl.

“He’s a what?!” Sydney asked.

“You heard me, Syd, he’s a Bashee but a male one.”

“Have you lost your mind? Or rather, you and the pup?” He threw up his hands melodramatically.

“Aren’t you overreacting a little?”

“Overreacting? You let a Banshee into this house.” Sydney brushed one of his thick dark curls back behind his right horn. “That’s your bad influence, Velkan. I blame you, just to make that clear.”

“What have I done now?”

“You brought in the vagabond! And now the puppy thinks we’re some kind of shelter.”

“Did you just compare me to some street rat?” Jonathan groaned and took a sip from the whisky he had just gotten for himself before sitting down.

Unlike Sydney and Castor, Jonathan was fully dressed in a worn-out black shirt of a metal band that Velkan had never heard of, jeans and heavy combat boots. His shoulder-length blonde hair was tied up into a messy bun.

Myra hadn’t mentioned where he had been when she came looking for him but Velkan found that sometimes he preferred not to know. He allowed his lover the space he needed.

“Well, your outfit makes it hard to tell the difference.” Sydney said sweetly, ignoring the stretched up middle finger Jonathan gave him.

“Well, I think… I mean… I think it’s a marvellous opportunity. I think he would be invaluable to my studies and…”

“Don’t you think we should let him have a hot meal and maybe a bath first, then start experimenting on him?” Castor winked at Myra who blushed and held up her hands in mock surrender.

“Bad idea!” Sydney interceded. “Give him food and he’ll think we actually want him here.”

“We already had crisps with him.” Myra said a little quieter than usual. She wasn’t Sydney’s biggest fan, though she stood up bravely to the glare he gave her.

“Fine. His belly is full. Give him some money and out with him!” Sydney rolled his golden eyes.

“You know that he isn’t Death personified, right? He’s not going to go all Seventh Seal on you and challenge you to a game of chess for your soul.” Velkan smirked.

“He is such a geek.” Sydney groaned directed at Jonathan who simply shrugged and smiled affectionately. “You’re damn lucky that you’re also hot, Velkan.” He turned back towards him. “And I know he’s not Death personified but close enough!”

“He’s probably more afraid of us than you are of him.” Castor said and tapped Sydney’s hand encouragingly.

“Famous last words.”

“He didn’t deny that he’s afraid, did you all notice?” Jonathan chuckled over the rim of his whisky tumbler.

“I’m more afraid of anything you might lend him to wear than the boy himself.” Sydney’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’d prefer I’d lend him something from your closet?”

“Jonathan, darling, I wouldn’t risk it. I’m pretty sure you’d spontaneously combust if you touched anything other than cheap polyester.”

“You could take him shopping.” Castor seemed adamant to changes Sydney’s mind. Velkan admired the kelpie’s determination, especially with a man like his horned lover. Sydney was as beautiful as he was stubborn.

“I wouldn’t want to leave Syd alone with him. He’d come back with 15 new outfits and the poor boy would be on a one-way flight to Timbuktu.” Velkan quipped.

“You guys can’t be serious. None of you knows what it means to live on the street.”

Everyone turned to find Richard in the doorway of the drawing room. The young fae had crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at them.

“It’s impolite to sneak up on people!” Sydney groaned.

“Especially when it means hearing you being callous, eh?” Jonathan put down his tumbler.

“You called him a street rat.” Richard said, his voice making it clear that he was just as disappointed by Jonathan as he was by everyone else.

“It’s also impolite to listen in.” Jonathan mumbled, drawing a short dry laugh from Sydney.

“Do you think this is funny?” Richard shook his head. “I can’t believe you guys. There is a teenage boy up there who was sleeping in a goddamn old factory. On the floor between barrels and rusty equipment. And you want to throw him back out?”

Sydney sighed. “Listen, puppy, you’re right. I don’t know what it means to live on the street. Nor will I ever. However, that doesn’t mean we have to open our doors to death.”

“He is not death!” Richard raised his voice. “Stop saying that. He’s lost. He’s alone! And if you guys don’t care for him, I will! And Tariq, too.” With that, he turned around and stormed off, his footsteps thumping on the stairs.

“Of course, Tariq too.” Jonathan said with a smile. “He would do anything for our puppy.”

“He’s right though.” Velkan hated seeing Richard so upset. This whole situation could have been handled better. It stood as a reminder to the fact that he had none of the talent for negotiation and persuasion that made his younger brother such an excellent politician.

“No one should be lost and alone.” he added.

“I get it.” Sydney stood up, gesturing around the room. “We all know the puppy has you two wrapped around his finger.” He pointed at Castor and Velkan. “Myra already pictures the experiments she could do with the death fairy and you.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I actually don’t know what you are thinking most of the time and thank the Gods for that. Majority rules and I lose.”

“Might do you some good.” Velkan said quietly.

He loved Sydney, he really did. Velkan and the horned demi-god shared a bond of deep affection and Velkan would always be grateful for the time during which Sydney had been there for him when Velkan himself had been lost. Not physically but emotionally. And during that time, Sydney had helped Velkan find himself, be the man he was today. His unorthodox methods had included a lot of rough and passionate sex but one couldn’t argue with the results. Still, sometimes Sydney needed a reminder that this was a family, not his Royal Household.

“Just get used to it.” Jonathan leaned into the cushions of the Victorian sofa.

“I will, but not dressed like this. I’m going shopping. In Paris.”

“What? You’re leaving?!” Castor stood up, too. His boxers had slipped a little, revealing a glimpse of his lower back which almost caused Myra to drop her glass.

“I’m already gone.” Sydney brushed past Velkan, his robe dancing around him. “You can call me when you came to your senses.” He left the room without a look back, followed by Castor who chased after him. Moments later the muffled sounds of the two men arguing on the first floor landing could be heard.

“This house is such a dysfunctional mess. The transhee will fit right in.” Jonathan chuckled.

“Don’t call him that to his face, ever.” Velkan growled.

“You should know me better, wolf.” Jonathan smiled but his voice betrayed his nonchalance. “I’m an arsehole, but I’m not cruel.”

“So you’re for letting him stay?”

“Is kicking him out even an option? Come on, the fact that he’s messes up Syd that much is reason enough to let him stay already.”

Velkan chuckled and blew his boyfriend a kiss. Jonathan didn’t show it but he cared more than he would ever let on and Velkan knew that by now. The real Jonathan Bouchard, the man he loved so much.
 

---
 

The extensive garden of Whitechurch Manor was quiet at this hour, no birds were singing, no insects humming even the fountains were turned off, the water in the overgrown ponds calm like a mirror which reflected the moonlight and the warm glow of the windows of the house. Castor did his best but he was just one Kelpie against nature so most of the garden was a colourful wilderness which would have given any proper British gardener a stroke. However, it added to the mysterious air of the property.

Whitechurch Manor itself loomed like a dark entity in its centre. Most of the mansion was dark and strangely foreboding, with only the light behind the windows of the part which was still lived in serving as reminder that a haven of life remained in those old walls.

Jonathan walked among the gravely pathways and stopped here and there to squat down. He liked being in the garden from time to time and not only because he was allowed to smoke here.

Getting away from the buzzing community within Whitechurch Manor felt relaxing. At least sometimes. He drew on his cigarette and blew a ring of smoke into the night air. The peace didn’t last long as he heard footsteps approach on the gravel of the path.

“There’re three more bags in the main hall.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the chest on the stairs.”

“Yes… sir.”

“Not to rush you but I’d like to be gone before the banshee starts shrieking. Should I leave you ear plugs? They won’t help but at least you’ll die trying.”

Jonathan watched as the butler staggered off towards the garage while carrying several large suitcases.

Sydney had spotted him among the rose garden and came over, his long coat flowing behind him.

“You woke him up for this? Steven will poison your tea one of these days. And since when are you travelling with so much luggage?”

“Who knows if the house still stands when I come back?” The horned demi-god snapped the cigarette out of the corner of Jonathan’s mouth and drew on it. He choked and coughed, holding it back towards Jonathan.

“Zut alors! How can you smoke this garbage?!”

“You’re welcome.” Jonathan shrugged and put the cigarette back in his mouth. “So you’re really leaving?”

Sydney waved theatrically. “Oui, bien sur. And so should you, if you ask me. You’re not keen on this mess either.”

“I’m not.”

“Then come with me. Matthias sure wouldn’t complain. You two could enjoy the joie de vivre while I’m shopping.” Sydney smirked, showing his pearly white perfect teeth.

The mere mention of the vampire sent a pleasurable shiver down Jonathan’s spine. Though they were just friends now, the memories of those nights spent in blood-stained passion lingered.

“Pass. I’ll stay.”

“Have it your way then. It’s your funeral.” Sydney wrapped himself tighter in his coat. “What are you doing out here?”

“Smoking.”

“And that?” Sydney nodded towards a crystal which poked out of Jonathan’s coat pocket.

“Oh, just a project of mine.” Jonathan smirked and squatted down to finish drawing a rune on a stone which he placed in the flowerbed next to the crystal from his pocket. A spark of purple energy flared up just as more crystals began to glow all over the grounds. Their light rose up and formed a crackling dome over the house before fading away.

“You’ve been a busy bee.” Sydney said though his voice was completely unfazed. Jonathan knew that this was a backhanded compliment, even though Sydney would never admit that. “Any reason you’re setting up a ward around the house?”

“Just a precaution.”

“I see.” Sydney made no effort to hide the triumph in his voice. “You sneaky bastard.”

“Nothing sneaky about it. I just like to cover my bases. The puppy is way too trusting and even though I doubt that the boy is a threat, you never know what he might bring to our doorstep. As I said, just a precaution.”

“Then why didn’t you side with me?”

“To what end? To bring Velkan up against me? I might have my doubts but I might also just be a paranoid son of a bitch who can’t make a leap of faith and trust someone in need of help. The boy might be just what Richard says: A lost soul.”

“Well, knock yourself out then, I’m off. I have a private jet to catch. Au revoir.” Sydney walked a few steps down the path before stopping. “Stay safe, vagabond. And keep them safe.”

“I will. And you stay safe, too, coward.”

Sydney glared at him over his shoulder. “If that was supposed to change my mind, better luck next time. I have a reservation for an opulent breakfast at my favourite brasserie in a few hours. Try not to die when that thing starts to scream.”

Jonathan watched the horned Frenchman leave towards the garage before taking a final draw from his cigarette and snipping it onto the gravel. He extinguished it with the heel of his boot and walked back towards the house. Maybe he should have taken Sydney up on the offer.

Fire and Tears

The house was quiet as Jonathan entered through the servants’ access and sealed it magically behind himself. He made a mental note to tell Mrs Gunderson in the morning so that she didn’t get a nasty shock should she try to go to her herbal garden from here. Jonathan made his way into the main hall through the inconspicuous door beneath the grand staircase. No proper Victorian wanted to see the servants do their job after all. The drawing room was empty now, safe for a few abandoned glasses on the table which Steven would remove later after he was done with Sydney’s luggage. Jonathan walked over to his tumbler and emptied the remaining whisky in one swoop.

“Everyone else went back to bed. You looked tired, too.”

Velkan stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame, his big arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well, it’s late and there’s been a lot of commotion. Syd is off to Paris by the way, he offered me to come along.”

“So why didn’t you leave?”

Jonathan took his time with the answer to that question as he walked over to the wolf. He wondered if he should be offended by Velkan’s tone, but decided against it.

“Easy. You are here and you are dead set on helping that boy. That means this is where I am staying. Someone has to keep you from messing up, wolf.”

“I love you too.”

Jonathan chuckled and stole a kiss from his partner. He enjoyed the short moment of intimacy. Those were the moments which proved to him that he was making the right choices.

“Where is our little Tran…” He caught Velkan’s disapproving expression. “Where is our little Banshee-boy?”

“With Richard, upstairs.” Velkan nodded towards the floors above them.

“I’ll go have a chat with him. We need to know more about the magic they, whoever they are, used on him to change his body.”

“If you say so. I trust you on the magical side of things.”

“Wise choice.”

“Go and do your thing, I’ll clean up here. We can’t always leave everything to Steven.”

“Okay. I’ll come back to bed when I’m done upstairs.”

“Don’t make me wait. The bed is cold without you.”

Velkan gave him another kiss before he started to collect the glasses. Jonathan watched him work for a moment - mostly because that meant he could see his lover bend over to pick up a glass in those well-fitted jeans of his - before turning around and heading up to the room Richard and Tariq were sharing.

Jonathan looked forward to the Ifrit’s return. He understood Tariq’s reasoning for staying behind and help his parents look after his brother while he was recuperating from his ordeal with the ancient flower demon but he missed having the man around who was quite literally his partner in crime and one of his closest friends.

Richard and Kearon sat on the windowsill next to the bed and were in a lively conversation as Jonathan entered. The Banshee looked much better already. His hair was freshly washed and combed back and he wore one of Richard’s shirts and one of his sweatpants. Both were comically oversized on the scrawny boy. He was reaching gleefully into a bowl of fudge which stood between him and Richard.

The window was open and a gentle breeze played with the colourful canopy over the bed.

Jonathan knocked against the doorframe to announce his presence even though he was sure Richard had already noticed his arrival.

“May I intrude?”

“What is it?” Richard’s tone made it obvious that he hadn’t forgiven Jonathan yet for calling Kearon a street rat earlier.

“I would need a word with Kearon.”

“Why?”

“Look, Richard, I know I’m not your favourite right now.” Jonathan said, making no effort to hide the exasperation in his voice. “However, I’m also the one person in this house who is best versed in magic. So you’ll have to put up with me for now, mate.”

Richard chewed on his lower lip and avoided Jonathan’s eyes but he clearly wasn’t happy with this. Jonathan, however, couldn’t care less.

“Fine, but I’ll stay here.”

“If Kearon is okay with that.” Jonathan said in an attempt to sound more amicable. “I would understand if he’d prefer we talk in private about those matters.”

“No, it’s fine.” the Banshee finally joined the conversation. He smiled at Jonathan but it didn’t quite reach his shining purple eyes.

Jonathan could sense the magic which surrounded the boy but he couldn’t tell if it was the Banshee’s own power or residue left by the spell used to change the boy’s physical gender. However, he could tell that his gaze made the boy uncomfortable, so he put on a smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You’re just a fascinating case.”

“He’s not some kind of specimen to research, Jon.”

“Tell that to Myra.” Jonathan quipped but it was lost on Kearon’s valiant protector. “Fine, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You think I’m fascinating?”

“Indeed.” Jonathan came into the room. “You’re a Banshee but you’re a man now. That’s some potent magic right there.”

“I’m not a man now. I always was one.” Kearon said, his lips curling in vexation. “It wasn’t some spur of the moment decision.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jonathan meant that. He had met quite a few people who were transgender on his travels and he didn’t understand the issue some folks seemed to have with them. However, he had never really bothered with the personal background.

“You know what I meant, though, right? That it needed a lot of magic to pull something like this off. And I can feel a strong presence from you but I can’t tell if that is your own magic or leftover from what was performed on you. I just want to make sure that everything is in order.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not a bit.” Jonathan replied truthfully. “Lay down on Richard’s bed for a moment, will you?”

Kearon did as Jonathan asked. He watched with fearful eyes as Jonathan stood over him and placed his hands close above the boy’s trembling chest.

Jonathan began mumbling words in a long forgotten language and reached out into the boy’s aura. It took some effort to break through the barrier around it.

The air around the bed began to vibrate with magic as Jonathan increased the intensity of his spell and a sudden burst of energy signalled that he had intruded into the world of Kearon’s magic. What he found there, was totally unexpected.

Jonathan felt pulled into swirling chaos of purple darkness as a horrible scream swelled up in his head. He wanted to let go, retreat, but couldn’t. The darkness drew him in, overwhelmed him.

There was a voice, Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was in his head or real, which tried to reach him over the terrifying screaming. The scream filled his entire being and Jonathan realized that it was a horrifying sound of his past which shattered its way into his mind: His mother. Screaming as she was burning alive.

Someone grabbed his arm. Jonathan’s eyes flew open. Richard was saying something but Jonathan couldn’t hear it.

He looked back at Kearon who had grabbed his wrists. He tried to get Jonathan to let go. The boy’s eyes were widened and pitch-black, his face distorted from fear.

Then Jonathan saw it: His hands were burning. Flames danced on them, eating away at his flesh, searing the glowing tattoos on his fingers. The fire spread, rising up along Jonathan’s arms as he tumbled back in panic, slapping at his arms in a desperate attempted to stop the flames. His skin was blackening while the fire engulfed more and more of his body. He would die. Burn and die.

Richard grabbed him again, held him tight with the full strength that the wolf part of him had to offer and shook Jonathan.

“Jon, calm down! What the hell is going on?!”

Jonathan wanted to scream but choked as the flames took away the oxygen around him. Why didn’t Richard help him? Why didn’t he… burn?

It was over just as quick as it had begun. Jonathan stared at his hands, hot tears running down his face. There was no fire. His hands were okay, so was everything else.

“Jon, what happened?”

Richard’s voice seemed impossibly far away. Jonathan staggered away from Richard’s grip and almost fell over the thick oriental carpet on the floor.

“Keep that thing away from me.” he muttered.

“I’m sorry!” Kearon sat up and watched the scene with fearful eyes which had now turned back to their usual purple glow. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Keep away. Just… keep away.” Jonathan made a step back as Richard attempted to support him and turned around to flee from the room.
 

---
 

Jonathan found himself in the drawing room again. He was still shaking while he switched on the old standard lamp and grabbed the whisky decanter from the silver tray on the sideboard. Ignoring the glasses, he simply removed the crystal cork and tossed it on the sofa before drinking directly from the decanter. Steven probably would have keeled over on the spot had he seen this but at this moment the damn butler was the least of Jonathan’s worries. The alcohol burned in his throat as Jonathan drank more than a tumbler’s worth in one go.

The whisky bottle in hand, Jonathan slumped down on the Victorian sofa and stared at the dying embers in the fireplace. Goddamn fire. Something wet dripped on his hands and only now, Jonathan realized that he was still crying. He wiped his hand across his face in an attempt to stop the tears from falling.

Several more large swigs of whisky finally brought the desired feeling of levity. Clinging on to the bottle like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, Jonathan took another mouthful with the intent of ending night as drunk as possible.

He had already emptied half of the bottle’s content as the privacy he so thoroughly desired was interrupted by Richard, who entered the drawing room and came over to him.

“Are you okay?”

Jonathan looked at him for a moment. At this wide-eyed, well-meaning little arsehole with the wild ginger hair and the pretty face. Richard was genuinely concerned for him despite their earlier disagreement. And that only made it worse.

“Fucking perfect, Dickie.” He toasted the young man with the decanter before drinking from it again.

“I can see that. You’re still shaking.”

He was right. Jonathan’s hands still trembled, even the one with the heavy crystal bottle.

“Gold star for attention to detail. What do you want?”

“See if you were okay.” Richard said with a sad smile. “I don’t know what happened there but he sure didn’t mean…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jonathan interrupted. “Save your excuses for someone who’s in the mood for them.”

“You scared him.”

“I scared him?! I fucking scared him?!” Jonathan laughed and tried to drink again but Richard grabbed the decanter and wrenched it from his hand. Jonathan glared at the young man. “Richard, believe me, this is not the night you want to get between me and booze.”

Richard held on to the bottle for a moment while obviously trying to figure out how to best proceed but then he handed it back to Jonathan, who gave him a sarcastic smirk.

“Good boy.”

“You think this is the right way of dealing with this?”

“Listen, Richard, I don’t care for your approval.” Jonathan slurred his words a bit. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck what you think about me at this moment. Why don’t you piss off and take care of the little monster you dragged into our house?”

“He’s not a monster.”

“He is.” Jonathan laughed drily. “Here’s a little lesson, free of charge.” He waved the bottle about. “Magic isn’t coming out of thin air, it’s a part of you, a part of me, it is a part of every being which is tuned into the magical ether. But, and this is a big fucking juicy but, it’s highly unique. Your fae magic is different from mine and both are different from bloody Banshee magic.”

“I know that and-”

“Shush, I’m talking!” Jonathan held up his index finger and ignored the pouty expression on Richard’s face. “Magic is connected to your body chemistry. And that’s where things get messy. Little Bashee boy up there went and allowed people to mess with his body on such a deep level, that it fucked up his magic. There is a maelstrom of chaos churning in this scrawny body and I got a taste of it.”

“That’s why he needs our help.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m done with this.” Jonathan sank back into the sofa. “And now, please, pretty please, fuck off.”

“What happened up there?”

Jonathan drank from the decanter before looking over the rim of the bottleneck. “What’s your deepest fear, Richard? I’m just asking out of curiosity for when he utilizes it against you.”

“Whatever he did, he didn’t mean to. He was almost inconsolable.”

“Good for him.” Jonathan pointed at the door. “And now piss off. I mean it. I want to be alone.”

Richard clearly wasn’t satisfied and his sad puppy eyes would have been heart-breaking in any other situation but Jonathan was drunk enough not to care. He leaned back as Richard left the drawing room with his shoulders hanging. Alone at last.

Who is Who in Whitechurch Manor

Richard found his new friend sitting on the bed in his room. Kearon stared at the fairy lights which Richard had strung up across a shelf filled with books and more of Tariq’s mementoes. At least he had stopped crying.

“How is your friend?”

“Being an arsehole.” Richard huffed. “But I know he’s going to be okay. He’s hurting, that’s when he gets like this.” He could almost hear Jonathan’s voice, scolding him for analysing him. “Give him some time.”

“I really didn’t mean to… ever since the change, I can’t control my powers anymore as I told you and what I did there was a defence mechanism.”

“I know, don’t worry, I know. You said that at least three times now”

Richard felt tired. The day had been long, the night stressful. It wasn’t his favourite pastime to fight with his family but tonight some of them really hadn’t presented themselves from their best side. The sound of his phone going off interrupted Richard’s gloomy thoughts. It was a Skype call coming in and at that moment, Richard remembered that he actually had a date set up for tonight.

“Dammit, give me a sec.”

He grabbed the phone and answered the call.

“Hey, Tariq, I’m sorry, I totally… oh.”

“Hey there, sweetie.”

Richard stared at the screen for a moment. Or rather at his boyfriend who sat there stark naked.

“You definitely forgot the call or else you wouldn’t be dressed.” the Ifrit gave him a dirty grin. The tone of his voice combined with his sexy Arabic accent made Richard shiver but now was definitely neither the time nor the place.

“I did forget the call and I’m also not alone.” Richard said rubbing the back of his head.

“What?! Dude!” Tariq almost fell off the chair as he hastily tried to get his jeans back on. “Who is with you? Please don’t say it’s Velkan, I will never hear the end of it.”

“No, it’s not Velkan.” Richard chuckled and looked over to Kearon who sat on the bed and tried to appear distracted. By now Tariq reached for his shirt on the floor and put it on.

“Presentable?” Richard chuckled.

Tariq nodded. “And almost died of a heart attack, thanks for asking.”

“My poor big guy.” Richard turned the phone around. “This is Kearon.”

Kearon’s cheeks flushed a little but he waved. “Hi.”

“Hi… I’m Tariq.” came the Ifrit’s voice over the speakers. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same.”

An awkward pause followed which Richard used to return the screen to him and head for the door.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Richard smiled at Kearon before going out into the hallway. He closed the door behind himself.

“Richard, what the hell? What is some goth fae kid doing in our room?”

“It’s a long story. Probably too long for now. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“What idea? What is he? 14?”

“Almost, he’s 15.”

“I’m definitely not getting the wrong idea but I’m also really confused.”

Richard smiled warmly. “I miss you, big guy.”

“I miss you, too.” Tariq kissed his index and middle finger and tapped the screen. “Do the others know that you are hiding minors in our room?”

“They do. It’s been some commotion about this tonight. I want Kearon to stay here but Syd isn’t thrilled because Kearon is a Banshee. And then something freaky happened with Kearon’s powers and Jon got the full blast of it.”

“Is he okay?!” Tariq sat up, his eyes widened.

“He’s fine, don’t worry. I think Kearon showed him his worst fears or something.”

“Shit, that’s not good. Maybe I should give him a call.”

“I wouldn’t. He’s in the drawing room getting pissed out of his mind.”

“Sounds like him.” Tariq sighed. “I should be there.”

“It’s fine, Tariq, really. Take care of your brother and I’ll take care of this.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tariq shook his head. “I’m gone for two weeks and there’s chaos in the house, eh? And what is a Banshee?”

Sometimes Richard forgot that Tariq didn’t come from the same background as he did. The Ifrit had spent most of his life in Saudi Arabia and he had also been human for most of it. He had learned a lot about the supernatural world on his travels with Jonathan but the Banshee were reclusive and so he obviously hadn’t crossed paths with them.

“It’s a sort of fae.”

“He said ominously.”

“I should get back to him.” Richard felt uneasy leaving Kearon alone for so long. “He’s been through a lot and I want him to feel at home.”

“You’re too good for this world, sweetie.”

“Thanks. Rain check on our date, okay?”

“Okay, but keep me informed.”

“I promise. Love you, Tariq.”

“I love you, too.” The Ifrit smiled into the camera before leaning forward to end the call. Richard looked at the dark screen for a moment. He hadn’t been completely honest. Right now, he wished for nothing more than that Tariq would be here with him. However, his family needed him and Richard was determined not to get in the way of that. Tariq would be back with him soon enough. He slipped the mobile into his pocket and put on a smile before returning to his room.

Kearon was still sitting on the bed and looked a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t make this awkward. I forgot the call and… well…” Richard rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, yeah… you’re a minor and all.”

“I get it.” Kearon nodded eagerly, obviously keen on leaving this conversation behind.

“Let’s get some sleep, shall we? You can have the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“No discussion about this. You take the bed.” Richard narrowed his eyes. “After getting you out of that factory I won’t have you sleep on the floor again.”

Twenty minutes later, Richard had switched off the fairy lights. The floor wasn’t too comfortable despite the thick Persian rug but he had slept in worse places than this. Kearon lay on the bed and looked up at the canopy.

“I can’t sleep.”

Richard had to agree. He was tired, held down by the weight of exhaustion, but sleep eluded him. “Me neither.”

“So…” Kearon turned over so that he could look down towards Richard. His eyes shone in the twilight of the room like purple gems. Richard knew that his own eyes got a bit of a shine when the light reflected off of them not as much as Velkan’s since he wasn’t a full-blooded wolf. “Jonathan… the guy from earlier…?”

“He’s a witch, as you might have guessed.” Richard smiled. “Well, it was rather obvious. Jon’s relatively new to the mansion, he only moved in here about a year ago together with Tariq. They used to travel together and do jobs which weren’t always legal. Jonathan calls himself an “Obtainer”, that’s posh for thief. Tariq is an Ifrit, but he wasn’t born one. You could say he caught it.”

“That’s possible? Like a virus?”

“More like an STD.”

“What?!”

Richard cleared his throat. “I’ll tell you another time. We were talking about Jonathan, weren’t we? Jon’s… difficult, sometimes. Don’t let him get to you. He can be an arsehole, but he’s got a good heart. Otherwise, Velkan wouldn’t love him so much.”

“Oh? He and Velkan?”

“Yes.” Richard nodded. “They hit it off right away. At least sexually… I mean…”

“I’m 15, Richard, I’m not a baby.” Kearon giggled which sounded so innocent that Richard couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, they were going at it like rabbits. I’m actually happy that they calmed down a bit because I walked in on them several times and that is more than I ever wanted to know about Velkan and definitely about Jon.”

Both started to laugh and for a moment, it seemed as if they had been friends for a long time.

“Sounds disturbing.”

“You have no idea.” Richard snorted, still cackling. “Well, he makes Velkan happy. That’s what counts.”

“So Velkan is a wolf?”

“Exactly… you want me to give you the rundown of who is who in Whitechurch Manor? I’m warning you, it’s a lot to take in.”

“Hit me.”

“Okay then.” Richard turned on this back and counted by his fingers. “Well, I should start with Elisabeth. She owns this place. She’s a vampire and was born in the late 1800s. You’ll like her, she’s nice. Well, I think she is but I’m also not a constant thorn in her side.” He chuckled. “Honestly… she’s like a mother to me.”

“And Velkan is like your big brother?”

“Yes.” Richard fell silent for a moment. Saying this out loud made him realize how blessed he really was after so many years of being unwanted by the world. He was home and he had a family. He continued in order to prevent the tears from further rising into his eyes.

“Elisabeth is Velkan’s sister-in-law. She is married to his younger brother Tobias. And Velkan and Toby are the sons of Jeremiah Ward, the Wolf Jarl of London.”

“Holy shit.”

“Right? But don’t mention that. It’s a touchy topic with Velkan. Even though I’m officially a member of the family, too, I don’t get to see them often because Velkan and his dad have a difficult relationship. Velkan’s son Declan is a nice guy. You’ll like him; he’s just a few years older than you.”

“A son?”

“Yeah.” Richard shrugged. “Told you this was getting complicated. Anyway, Velkan moved in here first of us after breaking up with his boyfriend back then. He was also the one who blessed us with Sydney, even though I think Syd and Liz go way, way, way back.”

“And Sydney is…?”

“You’ll know it when you meet him.” Richard sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s okay. He’s also really infuriating sometimes. Wait…” He sat up and reached for his phone to scroll through the photos. “That’s Syd.”

“... he has horns.” Kearon said incredulously.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Richard quipped with a smirk. “He’s… I actually can’t say what he is. He’s annoyingly vague about this. In any case, he’s old. Really, really old. We’re talking centuries, maybe millennia. And he used to be revered as a God and that still shows, if you ask me.”

“He’s really good-looking though, with that dark skin and the horns. But what is he wearing?”

“Judgmental, are we?” Richard raised his eyebrows.

“No! I didn’t mean…”

“I’m teasing you. Sydney lived in Paris when Velkan met him. Believe it or not, he’s some really big number in the Parisian supernatural underworld. The Lord of the Bone Market. Doesn’t get any more pretentious.”

“I see…” Kearon muttered in a strangely subdued tone. “And who else is there?” he added quickly.

Richard scrolled through the photos again. “Well, there would be Castor.”

“Wow, that’s an impressive beard. And all those tattoos.”

“Right? Castor is a tattoo artist. I keep wondering if I should get one done by him… but anyway, he’s a Kelpie, Scottish like me but lived in America most of his life and one of Velkan’s best mates. When Cas moved in here because he was looking for a place, Velkan and Sydney had a thing going… like friends with benefits, you know?”

“They were…?”

“Boning, yes.” Richard sighed, this all sounded so insane when spoken out loud. “And somehow Cas got involved in this and they were hanging out together. At least they used to when Velkan brought me here after we met in Glasgow. I was 17 back then and I guess they thought I was too stupid to notice but come on… when things got more serious between Cas and Syd, Velkan backed out of it.”

“Is everyone gay in this house?”

Richard laughed. “It may seem that way but there are nuances. Velkan and Jon are gay; Velkan says that one time when he ended up with a son doesn’t count. Tariq doesn’t like labels but for the sake of the argument let’s say he’s gay, too, Cas and I are bisexual and Sydney is pansexual. Fitting if you consider that he claims that he was the one who the myth of Pan is based on.”

“Okay, okay. You have a very confusing family structure, you know that?”

“Told you.” Richard put the phone away again. “That only leaves Myra. You know her already. She’s the sweetest if you ask me. Human, but she has this gift which allows her to see through the veil and even tell what kind of supernatural we are. She only 18 but super smart, a child prodigy. Oh and Castor’s sister Crea, but she only comes to visit from time to time. That’s everyone.”

“And you’re all living here together?”

“As a family, yes. A weird one, but… yeah, a family.”

Kearon yawned heartily. “I’m sorry.”

“Want to try and sleep? There will be time enough for more tomorrow.” Richard pulled the sheets a little higher since he felt a bit of a draft on the floor.

“Okay, sleep well.”

“You too, Kearon. Goodnight.”

It became quiet in the room for a moment. Richard looked at the window and out towards the night sky while he finally felt that his eyelids were becoming heavier.

“Richard…?

“Hm?”

“Do you really think I can stay here?”

If he had still doubted his decision, the tone in which Kearon asked this would have convinced Richard that he was doing the right thing. As it were, it only served to strengthen his resolve.

“Of course.” he said and he meant it. He would fight tooth and claw for it if need be.
 

---
 

The bright light of the sun pierced through Jonathan’s eyelids like hot daggers and pulled him from the embrace of an intoxicated sleep. Pain flared up behind his eyes and flooded through his head. He groaned and forced himself to open his eyes despite the fact that the pain intensified by what felt like tenfold.

He lay slumped over on the sofa in the drawing room, the empty decanter in his arm like a sparkling crystal teddy bear. The heavy aroma of the whisky still clung to it and filled Jonathan’s nose. Nausea reared its ugly head but Jonathan fought it down.

He blinked into the blinding light until he could make out the tall, broad form of Castor in front of the window. The Kelpie had pulled open the curtains and allowed the sunlight in.

“Good morning, rise and shine.”

“Fuck you, too.”

“Wasn’t that thing almost full last night?”

Jonathan looked at the decanter in his arm and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Had fun getting shit-faced?”

“Yeah.”

“Next time invite me to the party, ‘kay?”

“Still grumpy because Syd ran away?” Jonathan sat up and regretted it instantly, but he remained upright and finally got rid of the decanter by putting it on the couch table. He set it down too close to the edge and caught it a second before it tumbled over. “Shit, that was close.”

“Can’t believe he really took off.” Castor shrugged and ran his hand through his thick ginger beard. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised but… whatever.”

“He had the right idea.”

“What?”

“Never mind… my head is killing me.”

“No wonder. Mrs Gunderson might finish the job when she wakes up again.” The Kelpie winked.

“Excuse me?” Jonathan’s brain was still sluggish, but then it came to him. “Aw, fuck. The sealing spell on the backdoor. She tried to open it.”

“Yeah, why the hell did you hex the door? Gunderson went out like a light. She’s okay though. I’m making breakfast instead.”

“Precaution.” Jonathan left it at that. “As for breakfast: Yours is better anyway… just don’t tell her that. At least you don’t make that British shit.”

“Pancakes and bacon.”

“Perfect.”

Castor chuckled and walked over to the next window to pull open the curtains. Jonathan groaned as more light attacked his eyes.

“Go get cleaned up, I’ll have the coffee ready.”

“Sounds heavenly.” Jonathan mumbled and collected himself from the sofa. He tried to keep the focus as he walked towards the door, even though the room blurred in front of his eyes repeatedly. “You’re the best, Cas.”

“I know. Tell that to Syd.”

“I will… promise.” Jonathan hit his shoulder on the doorframe, drawing a laugh from Castor. “Or maybe not.” he mumbled on his way to the stairs.
 

---
 

After a shower and a change of clothes, Jonathan already felt better. Velkan wasn’t in their room so he suspected the wolf had already gone downstairs for breakfast. Or to take care of poor Mrs Gunderson.

As he reached the grand staircase, he stopped, waiting for Richard to make his way up to him. Not quite the person he had hoped to see but it was as good a time as ever to clear the air between them.

“Morning.”

Well, it was a start. Jonathan had never been an expert at situations like this. Apologizing wasn’t his strong suit and it didn’t get any easier.

“Morning. You look like you had a rough night.” Richard came up to the landing. He was massaging his neck with his right hand and grimaced as a joint audibly snapped back into place.

“Likewise, I’d say. I was drunk and an arsehole. You?”

“Slept on the floor in a draft.” Richard smiled. “And yes, you were an arsehole.”

“I was… well…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Jonathan couldn’t hide his surprise. He searched for something in Richard’s eyes that would tell him that the young fae hadn’t already forgiven him but was only met with an honest smile.

“How can you be such a nice guy all the time, Richard? Doesn’t it get annoying at some point?”

“Can’t say it does. Maybe you might want to try it sometime.”

“Nah.” Jonathan waved off, happy to have avoided having to apologize. “My bad attitude keeps me young.” He smirked. “How is our guest?”

“He’s alright. We’ll head into town and have breakfast there. I don’t want to force him to have the full Whitechurch Manor experience just yet after last night. We’ll get the rest of his things on the way.”

“You have it all under control, I see.”

“One person in this house has to be the adult in the room, eh? Might as well be me. See you later, Jon.”

Richard started towards the stairs to the second floor but Jonathan wasn’t quite ready to let him go yet.

“Richard?”

The young fae stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“Don’t tell him that I called him a monster. That is if you haven’t already.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good, I mean…” Jonathan brushed some strands of his hair behind his ear. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“You’re sorry you said it.”

Being talked to like this wasn’t getting any easier either. Jonathan raised his shoulders helplessly.

“I won’t tell him.”

“Thanks.”

Richard smiled warmly and nodded before continuing his way leaving Jonathan to feel relieved and ashamed at the same time. This damn family life should come with a rule book. And a warning label attached. Jonathan groaned and descended down the stairs, eager to have some coffee and Cas’ amazing pancakes and to forget about this mess.

Lies and consequences

“So what exactly are you guys doing?” Kearon asked.

It was a sunny day and the tourists were out in droves. The area was buzzing like a beehive.

Richard tossed the wrapping paper of his grilled cheese sandwich into a bin. He had taken Kearon to one of the local Costa, his favourite coffee shop chain. It had been crowded with tourists and locals alike so they had taken their breakfast along and eaten it in the small park next to Christ Church in Spitalfield. The park was part of the Jack the Ripper tours but most of those didn’t start until the late afternoon since the tour guides considered it more atmospheric to roam Whitechapel and Spitalfields in the dusk when Jack had been out to murder his victims. At this hour the park was still quiet except for two elderly men who sat on a bench and a guy walking his dog.

“This and that. Helping out, if you will.” Richard shrugged. “I wasn’t a member of the team until recently. When Tariq came along, he stirred things up. Before that, it was usually Velkan who was out on assignments. Castor is more of a support player and I’m not even sure Sydney cares enough to help anyone unless he has a stake in it. The Whitechurch Group has a network all over the world and London is the headquarters of sorts. This is where it started. So before Jon came along, Velkan usually worked with operatives from other branches or alone.”

“And what is the Whitechurch Society exactly?”

“A group of individuals from all sorts of supernatural backgrounds working together. Helping in cases which cross species lines or when the local authorities ask for our assistance. Elisabeth has her own agenda, too, though, research missions and the like. We’re fighting the good fight, you could say.”

“That’s so cool.”

Richard smiled. “It is but it’s also dangerous at times. That’s why Velkan didn’t really want me involved. And Myra was just our resident scientist. She spent most of the time in her lab in the basement. Until Jon and Tariq joined us. When Tariq and I got closer, he went to Liz and asked her to form Team Young Whitechurch as he called it. That’s him, Myra and me. We didn’t get any major assignments yet but got to do more work and Tariq is training me and Myra in self-defense.”

“Where is he at the moment?”

“With his family.” Richard drank the last bit of his caramel latte. “He was born near the Rub al Khali desert in Saudi Arabia. He’s a bedouin. His brother was captured by a demon and we saved him but he was hurt pretty badly so Tariq stayed behind to help care for him. He’ll be back soon, I hope.”

“Does his family-?”

“No. I was a friend there. It’s better that way.”

“I see.” Kearon looked around the park as if he was searching for something.

“Are you okay? You seem nervous ever since we got here, if I may be honest.”

“Oh? No, no, everything’s fine. I’m just not used to being… I mean… I usually kept myself hidden in the factory.”

“No one can see that you’re a fae.”

“But other fae might recognize me. You did.”

“Oh well, that is true but in my case that wasn’t a bad thing.” Richard stood up. “Come on, let’s get your stuff and go back to the mansion. There’s still a lot to see there and I need to introduce you to the others eventually.”

It was just a short walk to the factory which didn’t look more inviting in the bright light of the morning than it had in the twilight of the evening before.

“How long have you been hiding here?”

“A few weeks. It’s safe. No one ever goes here, not even the other homeless.”

“I wonder why.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Richard felt a cold shiver. He subconsciously rubbed his arms. This area of London was steeped in blood and darkness. Shadows of centuries of poverty and death lingered, unseen and unfelt by the humans. This had once been the most densely populated and poorest area of London and no one ever counted the people who went missing in the alleyways and dark corners. Jack the Ripper was just the tip of a dark iceberg which still loomed over this part of town.

“Aren’t Banshees drawn to places of darkness?”

Kearon stopped and looked at his feet. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m just being curious. No judgement, don’t worry.”

“We are… naturally tuned into the darkness, yes. We’re not afraid of it.”

“That’s why you love the mansion. And this place.”

“But Whitechurch Manor isn’t evil.”

“I never said anything about evil. Just darkness. And Whitechurch Manor has a lot of darkness.”

“You don’t think I’m evil?” Kearon asked quietly.

“Not for a second.”

Richard met Kearon’s eyes and the Banshee smiled brightly. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes shone happily.

“That’s… I… I mean… thank you…”

“Shall we get your things?” Richard said to help Kearon out of the situation. He put his arm around Kearon’s shoulder faster than he had thought about it but to his relief, Kearon didn’t seem to mind. Together they walked into the factory.
 

---
 

The inside of the factory wasn’t much more pleasant now that daylight streamed through the high dirty windows. Dust danced in the beams of light and some birds were making noise somewhere on the walkways above. White stains of hardening bird poo were dotted everywhere and rats scuttled off as the two men walked past the conveyor belts. All things which had been hidden by the blackness of the night before.

The rest of Kearon’s things was still where he left them. Richard helped putting everything into the duffle bag which he brought along. As they were almost done, Kearon suddenly froze.

“Oh no.” he muttered.

Richard felt the presence of danger, too. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge as his senses picked up footsteps. He turned around to find three men walking towards them. They looked rough. All three wore hoodies and camo pants with thick combat boots like it was uniform, they probably all belonged to the same gang. Richard grabbed Kearon and pushed him behind himself.

“We don’t want trouble, guys. Just walk away.”

“Oh, he don’t wan’ trouble.” the guy in the middle said, flashing the gap where his his left upper front tooth used to be. “Shame that ya foun’ it, laddie.”

“Do you want money? I got some.”

“Money.” The right one laughed. He had a big scar which ran all the way from his chin up to his forehead. “Do we want money, Kearon?”

Richard’s head jerked around to find Kearon hiding behind him. The Banshee was even paler than before.

“You know these guys?”

“I-”

“Oh, he know us, all right, don’t ya, lad. It’s lad now, innit?” Tooth gap chuckled. “Who’s ya new friend? You going in for them boys now that ya have a knob yaself?”

“Shut up!” Richard growled.

“Oh, ya a fierce one, ain’t ya. Kearon got himself a protector. Thought ya could come crawlin’ out of ya hidin’ place and prance around now that ya have ‘im, didn’t ya, laddie?”

“Please, guys-” Kearon begged.

“What is going on here?” Richard turned around to Kearon again but he kept the men in the corner of his eyes.

“He owes us, lad.” the right one finally spoke. His lower face almost disappeared under a thick, ill-groomed beard. “He owes the boss for the prick he’s got dangling between his legs now. Peckers don’t come cheap.”

Richard could see the tears in Kearon’s eyes. The banshee was trembling, about to panic. He had to do something. Three guys. He was alone. However, he had the strength he could rely on both through the blood of the wolf and the sidhe which ran through his veins and his wolf side heightened his reflexes.

His eyes flicked around, taking in the surroundings. He just needed the element of surprise.

“Look, guys, we really don’t want any trouble-”

Richard didn’t finish the sentence. He swirled around and threw the duffle bag into tooth gap’s face. It wasn’t heavy and wouldn’t cause any damage but it served its purpose. Tooth gap stumbled back and the other two jumped out of the way. Richard leaped towards them and punched beard in the stomach before dodging a blow from scarface. He slid under the flying fist and grabbed an iron bar from the floor, thrusting it upward into scarface’s crotch.

The man’s howl echoed through the factory.

Richard turned and prepared to slam the bar into tooth gap but he anticipated Richard’s move and got hold of the bar mid-swing. Richard lost his momentum and tumbled into the oncoming fist which connected painfully with his face.

He ignored the pain and dodged the next punch before landing one himself.

“Kearon! RUN!”

Richard didn’t see if the banshee had followed his command since now he had to deal with both beard and tooth gap. Scarface was still on the ground holding his privates. Both men were preparing to attack him. Richard’s heart pounded in his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his body. He hadn’t been in the main battle against the flower demon in the desert, having been tasked with keeping Tariq’s injured brother out of harm’s way. However, this was what he had been training for all those months with Tariq.

Tooth gap made his move first, throwing himself at Richard ready to grab him but Richard stepped out of the way and let him tumble past, slamming his elbow into the back of the man’s head. He crashed to the floor but beard was already on the move. He managed to get a punch in but Richard was able to take a hold of the man and thankfully beard wasn’t much taller than he was. Richard prepared for the pain as he headbutted the man, sending him falling backwards.

“Kearon?”

There was no answer. Richard looked around but couldn’t find any trace of the Banshee. His head was ringing from the attack on beard and in that moment realisation dawned on him. He had made a crucial mistake: He had forgotten about the third man.

Richard swirled around but only in time to see the metal bar in scarface‘s hands swing into his field of view. The impact was instantaneous and painful but only for a few seconds. Then the darkness swallowed Richard’s mind as he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The Shadow Queen

The sunlight reflected off of the surface of the water lily pond and played on Jonathan’s face as he sat next to it. He drew on his cigarette. Quiet days at the manor were a rare commodity and after last night, he cherished it even more.

He had given a short report about the events of the night during breakfast, bringing Velkan, Castor and Myra up to speed. However, he had decided to paint himself as the one who had messed things up by going too far too fast. After the conversation with Richard, Jonathan didn’t want to make Kearon seem like a threat to the others and deep in his heart Jonathan knew the Banshee hadn’t done this to him deliberately. It didn’t make the memory easier though.

The tall grass next to him rustled and a big grey rat emerged and scurried towards him. It caressed Jonathan’s hand with its nose, tickling him with its whiskers until he turned his hand around. The rat climbed on his palm and from there up his arm to his shoulder where it started to play with Jonathan’s hair.

Jonathan chuckled and helped the little critter by pushing the strands away to allow the rat access to his ear. Its whiskers tingled as they brushed along the sensitive skin of his earlobe.

“What’s gotten you all excited, Celeste, eh?”

No one but he could understand the reply to the question.

“Oh, bloody hell. Here we go.”

He barely said that as hurried footsteps approached on the gravel of the garden paths. Jonathan stood up and snipped the cigarette into the pond before tenderly running his hand over the soft fur of his familiar.

“Thanks for the heads up, Celeste. It was too good to be true anyway. Oh, stop laughing, furball, or I won’t tell you where Mrs Gunderson hid the cheese this time.”

Kearon came running towards him. The Banshee was sweating profoundly and his usually pale cheeks were burning. He stopped in front of Jonathan and tried to catch his breath.

“I… I’ve been… running all the way from… the tube station.” he gasped.

“Good for you.” Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “So? What did we fuck up this time?”

“Richard…” Kearon choked and hunched over, supporting himself with his hands propped against his thighs. “He… he’s been taken…”
 

---
 

A few minutes later, Jonathan waited with strained patience while Kearon gulped down a glass of water. Celeste sat on her hind legs in the fruit bowl on the sideboard of the drawing room and ripped grapes from their stem to munch on them.

Finally, the banshee put away the glass. He sat hunched over in the armchair and played with his long fingers nervously.

“Let’s make one thing perfectly clear.” Jonathan said calmly. “No more lies. One more lie from you and whoever is after you, I will happily throw you to them.”

Kearon looked up, his purple eyes widened. “But-”

“No, you heard what I said and I mean it. Richard is a kind and sweet guy. He’s caring, loving and most of all he is trusting when he lets someone into his heart which, if you ask me, is way too big. I am none of those things at least not when you don’t deserve it and if you keep lying, Kearon, then I will decide that you are not worth anything. You’ll be on your own again.”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me.” Jonathan groaned. “You know my name. And all I want is the truth. Velkan said you found someone who turned you into a man and you paid them for it. I was willing to let that go then because everyone was eager to help you and I was already becoming the bad guy but enough is enough. Who gave you this body?”

“I… please…I didn’t want...”

Celeste squeaked in the fruit bowl and Jonathan turned his head towards her, twisting his mouth and narrowing his eyes. The rat licked her paw innocently.

“You know how it feels when a rat tells you that the best way to catch a mouse is cheese?” Jonathan asked directed at Kearon.

“No?”

“I do.” Jonathan massaged his temples. “I’m not your enemy, Kearon. I know you didn’t mean to do what you did last night. I just need you to be honest with me.”

“I never wanted… I never wanted any of this to happen…”

“What is going on here?” Velkan stood in the door of the drawing room. He took off his headphones. His track pants and the grey muscle shirt were drenched in sweat, he had been working out.

“Oh no!” Jonathan snapped his fingers, drawing Kearon’s focus back to him. “Don’t look at him. This is between you and me. We don’t play good cop, bad cop.”

“Dare I ask?” Velkan came over to the couch.

“Short version: Richard has been abducted and I suspect by whoever our new friend here got his body from.”

“What?!”

“Please, I… I…” Kearon looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

Velkan opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Jonathan put his hand on the wolf’s arm and shook his head. He knew Velkan too well. The Banshee’s plight already moved Velkan’s heart and if Jonathan was honest with himself, so it did his.

“Listen.” Jonathan leaned forward, giving Kearon a faint smile. “I know how it is, okay? Not what you went through, but I know about making a pact to get what you desire.”

In Jonathan’s case that had been power. While witches were naturally tuned into the magical ether, the power they could draw from the space between worlds was limited. If one formed a pact with one of the beings that dwelled there, however, the situation was quite different. Usually, Jonathan avoided talking about this matter.

“There is always a price to pay.”

“Yes…” Kearon pulled up snot loudly.

“And in your case that price was?”

“I.. I was supposed to… work it off. Using my… talents.”

“Not for something pleasant, I suspect. I don’t think to confront someone with their worst fear is a trick to be performed to entertain.”

“No.” Kearon shook his head. “I was supposed… supposed to force people… to confess things. Or to… to… motivate them, they called it. Motivate to play along.” Tears ran down Kearon’s pale cheeks. “But I can’t! I lost control of my powers after the change! I was so scared. Scared that they might… might take my body away again. Or worse… so I… I…”

“So you ran.”

“Yes.” Kearon’s shoulders sank, he looked utterly defeated. “I hid but… but then Richard found me… and I thought I would be safe here.”

“You would have been but for heaven’s sake, you should have been honest with us.” Velkan said quietly. “Kid, we’d never have turned you away.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Velkan went over to Kearon’s armchair and squatted down next to it. “Just tell us everything. Richard means the world to me, Kearon, I need to help him.”

Jonathan felt the touch of Celeste’s paws on his shoulder as the rat snuggled up against his neck. He smiled. Celeste thought he needed reassuring. She was just as new to her master having a stable relationship as he was himself. However, he’d never think about Richard as a rival for Velkan’s affection. The bond those two shared was special, akin to what Jonathan shared with Tariq, but even deeper.

He reached up and tickled Celeste’s twitching nose affectionately.

“Who helped you, Kearon?” Jonathan said. “We need a name.”

“I don’t know her name.” Kearon looked back and forth between Velkan and Jonathan. “She calls herself the Shadow Queen.”

“Bloody hell.” Jonathan groaned. He stood up and Celeste jumped from his shoulder onto the couch.

Velkan rose up, too. “Sydney’s London counterpart,” he said.

Both of them knew who Kearon was talking about here. The head of the supernatural criminal underworld of London, the Shadow Queen. As Syd’s colourful moniker “Lord of the Bone Market” in Paris, her name was whispered in every dark corner of the city.

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Everyone upstairs to Richard’s room. We have work to do. I’ll join you in a moment. I need to get some things from my room.”
 

---
 

As Richard finally regained consciousness, he found himself lying on a pristine white couch. He sat up slowly, trying to ignore the pain which surged through his head. Sunlight streamed into the room through the impressive window wall which opened up to a spectacular view across the Thames.

The river glistened in the sun several hundred feet below. Richard stepped closer to the window. He could see the Tower in the distance and Tower Bridge, also the MHS Belfast, the former battleship which was now part of the Imperial War Museum and permanently anchored near Tower Bridge. The curved windows of City Hall reflected the sunlight.

Finally, it dawned on him. He was in the Shard. Not all the way to the top, he had been there with Tariq once, but about halfway up the enormous glass spire which had once been Europe’s tallest building, somewhere on the floors with the completely unaffordable luxurious flats, most of which were still empty to this day. This was a long way away from Whitechapel, basically in a different world.

His faint reflection in the glass reminded him of what had happened. The left side of his face was already turning purple and his jaw hurt as Richard tried to open his mouth. He touched his cheek and flinched as the pain intensified.

“I apologise for that. These men had no right to treat you that way.”

Richard swirled around to locate the source of the voice. A woman in a black pinstripe suit had entered the room. She was exceptionally beautiful. Tall, slender with porcelain skin and deep blue eyes, crimson lips, high cheekbones and a cascade of dark blonde hair which reached all the way down to her hips.

“How did I get here?”

“I had you brought here after that unfortunate incident in Whitechapel. As I said, this was no way to treat a member of the Whitechurch Society.”

“You know who I am?”

“Of course I do, Mr Winters. I’m making a habit out of knowing all the important people in London.”

“I don’t think I’m important.” Richard smiled, unsure of what to make of the strange woman. “Wait.” He looked at his hand. “Where is my ring?!”

“You were wearing one?”

“Yes!” Richard felt his heart beat faster. He couldn’t have lost it. Not that ring. “I wore it when…”

“Please sit down for a moment.” The woman stepped to the counter of the freestanding kitchen isle which was almost clinically white like everything in this flat. Richard noticed that it was way too perfect. This place wasn’t being lived in it was all set up to present the rentable space in the Shard to potential tenants, down to the perfectly shaped shiny red plastic apples in the bowl on the couch table.

While the woman was talking into her phone, Richard started looking for a way out. She looked like she was easy to overwhelm even for a smaller guy as he was, but Richard suspected that there was more to her than met the eye. He felt a presence which was both fascinating and deeply intimidating. She practically radiated power.

Before he could dwell on that thought, Scarface, Beard and Tooth Gap entered the fake apartment, all three glared at him for a second but were quickly drawn in by the woman’s aura. They snapped at attention almost like soldiers.

“I hear our guest was wearing a ring when you gentlemen attacked him.”

“He attacked-”

“I’m not interested.” the woman instantly interrupted Tooth Gap. “He was wearing a ring. Where is it?”

Scarface looked his feet, shifting uncomfortably for a moment before reaching into his pocket and producing a heavy ring with a big red gem set into it. The faces of wolves were engraved on both sides of the ring. It looked as if it was silver but it actually was platinum, even though Richard didn’t share Velkan’s intolerance towards the former. The fae blood cancelled that out.

“That’s it.” Richard stated the obvious.

“Very well then.” The woman took the ring from Scarface’s hand. “Apologize.”

“M’um?”

“Apologize!”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t look at Richard as he pressed that out between gritted teeth.

“Very good. This is no behaviour towards someone like our guest. First, you do that to his face and now you steal. I’m disappointed.”

She turned away from him and started towards Richard but then stopped and pondered before holding up her right hand, closing it into a fist and twisting her wrist around.

Scarface didn’t make as sound as his neck followed the twisting motion of the woman’s hand and snapped with a sickening sound. He slumped to the floor. Richard stared at the scene with widened eyes and didn’t move even as the woman came over and held out the ring towards him. It demanded all his strength to keep his hand from trembling as he took it back and put it on.

“You can go. And take out the trash.” the woman said and sat down in the white armchair opposite Richard.

Tooth Gap and Beard were both white as a sheet as they picked up their dead friend from the floor and hurried out of the apartment, leaving Richard with this terrifying woman.

“Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not.” It was obvious that she knew he was lying. Richard twisted the ring on his finger nervously.

“So you were welcomed into the Ward family?” The woman said, interpreting the meaning of the ring correctly which at this point didn’t come as a surprise to Richard anymore. He felt trapped in a corner by an enemy who was a hundred steps ahead of him.

“Jeremiah gave his blessing, yes.” Richard replied truthfully as lying seemed completely futile. He was officially a member of the family of Jeremiah Ward, the Wolf Jarl of London. Even though Velkan kept his distance from his family, this meant that Richard had a certain standing among the supernatural society of the city.

“That makes you very valuable indeed.” She smiled. “You took something from me, Richard, but with you here I have a bargaining chip which completely changes the game.”

It's a kind of magic

At the same time, up in Richard’s room under the roof of Whitechurch Manor, Kearon asked the obvious question after Jonathan had joined them: “What are we doing up here?”

Velkan put his hand on the Banshee’s shoulder, smiling at him calmingly as Kearon flinched.

“Let Jon do his thing, it’ll be alright.”

“Wow, no pressure, eh?” Jonathan turned on the spot. “Okay, we have no clue where Richard is, but I should be able to track him down.” He pointed at the shelf next to the window. “Thankfully Tariq is addicted to those scented candles. Gather as many as you can find, Kearon, at least nine. Shouldn’t be hard.”

“On it.” The Banshee said eagerly.

“Next I need something from him. As personal as possible. Best would be a bodily fluid. Spit or blood…” Jonathan sighed. “But since we have neither… I can’t believe I’m saying this… Velkan, check our boy’s bed, okay? Let’s hope he jerks off into his boxers or the sheets.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Do I look like I am kidding?”

“Why do I-”

“Because you have a better nose. Sniff out some of his cum. Doesn’t matter if it is dried up.”

“Can’t we use his toothbrush? He puts that in his mouth and-”

“And then washes it out afterwards.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Get sniffing, wolf!”

Velkan growled at him but then turned towards the bed and started sifting through the sheets.

“How did my life end up like this?” he muttered as he held Richard’s boxers under his nose.

“I ask myself the same thing. A lot.” Jonathan said but he couldn’t quite suppress an amused snicker.

While the other two were doing their part, one of them, Kearon, with much more vigour than the other, Jonathan swept aside the thick oriental carpet, got a piece of chalk out of his pocket and started to draw a complicated sigil onto the wooden floor.

“Here.” Velkan’s voice clearly showed how much he enjoyed his tasks. He held up the underside of Richard’s duvet. Barely visible on the red fabric was a smeared white stain.

“Well done. What about the candles?”

Kearon had placed seven next to the sigil and just came back with two more. Aside from one, all of them were scented.

“This is going to be an interesting aroma.” Jonathan groaned. He set the candles up around specific points of the sigil and lit them with the lighter which he always carried. Several (and partly seriously incompatible) scents began to mix in the room. Velkan held the back of his hand under his nose. His sharp senses were attacked by the wild mix of oriental fragrances, flowery aromas and an assortment of sweet smells like Cupcake or Vanilla Fudge.

“Okay, here’s what I will do: I’m going to astral project to Richard’s location. However, I need you two to keep an eye on me. Astral projection isn’t without risks. I’m literally leaving my body behind and if I don’t get back to it fast enough, it might… well… die.”

“Oh, if death is the worst that can happen.” Velkan groaned.

“It’s not going to.” Jonathan flipped him off. “Think of it as the package insert of some prescription drug. Might cause all kinds of side effects. In this case, death is one of them but it’s highly unlikely. I admit, astral projection isn’t my favourite pastime but it’s the fastest way of finding the puppy.”

He inhaled deeply. “Let’s do this. If anything happens, anything at all, just break the sigil by smearing the chalk. That will drag me back instantly.”

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Velkan said and Jonathan knew that he could trust his partner. Velkan loved adventures just as much as Jonathan did but he was also fiercely protective.

“I know, my wolf. Hand me the duvet.”

Velkan did as he was told and Jonathan looked at the stain for a moment, contemplating his life choices. Then, with a last heartfelt sigh, he licked over the spot.

“Ewww!” Kearon gasped but quickly shut up as Jonathan glared at him.

Even though everything in him objected, Jonathan ran his tongue over the stain two more times just to make sure before handing the duvet back to Velkan who clearly tried not to laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.

“The expression on your face is priceless.”

“Yeah, fuck you, too, wolf.”

“I hate to be the voice of reason but don’t take any unnecessary risks.” Velkan replied instead of continuing to tease and held on to Jonathan’s hand a little longer than needed before taking a step back.

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

I’m worrying enough for both of us, Jonathan added in his mind, even though he was determined not to show it.

He lay down in the centre of the sigil and closed his eyes. It had been ages since he had astral projected last and the thought of doing it again wasn’t the most tempting. The things one did for the family. It was his fault, really, for giving up and starting to care for the others in the house more than he had ever expected to.

Jonathan began to quietly recite the spell. He had barely finished the final word when he suddenly got a nauseating falling sensation and his conscious tumbled into the cold emptiness of the void.
 

---
 

“What do you mean; I have taken something from you?”

The woman shook her head and crossed her legs casually while never dropping that smile on her face which was somehow both benevolent and unsettling.

“Please, Richard, don’t insult my intelligence. We both know what or rather who I am talking about.”

Of course, Richard knew. It wasn’t hard to guess. And he had to admit that fear had taken over his mind. One thing he admired Jonathan for was the witch’s ability to bluff himself through every situation. Jonathan was a talented liar and his poker face was near perfect. Something Richard could only dream of. He was still playing with his ring and he felt the sweat on his forehead. This was anything but a poker face.

“Kearon…” he said quietly.

“Exactly.” The woman folded her hands. “The poor dear came to me with his deepest desire and I granted him his wish, but all magic comes at a price.”

“If it is money you want, the Ward family is-”

“Richard, darling, do I look as if money is the problem here?”

“No.” Richard forced himself to stop fumbling with the ring. His hands were now clenched into his thighs to keep them from moving nervously.

“Kearon offered me his services. The powers of a Banshee are invaluable, especially in my business. Fear is a very potent motivator.”

You don’t say, Richard thought. His stomach was twisted in knots by now and for the first time since they formed “Team Young Whitechurch”, Richard was afraid that he might not survive. He had never been faced with a situation like this all on his own and the thought of never seeing Tariq, Velkan and the rest of his family again echoed through his mind.

“You look very pale, Richard. Dearest, you really must think me a monster.” the woman sighed. “I was just-”

She was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Jonathan, who appeared right between her and Richard, his legs passing through the white coffee table. The poker face Richard had been thinking so highly of had cracked as Jonathan realized that he was in plain sight of everyone in the room.

“So nice of you to join us, Mr Bouchard.”

Jonathan tried to turn towards the woman but he couldn’t move his legs. He was stuck in the position he had appeared in, unable to look at her.

“What have you done?”

“Bound you to this spot, my dear.” The woman continued. “Astral projection, so naughty.”

“Seemed like the fastest way to find him.”

“I didn’t expect any less from you.” She gestured at Richard. “You found him. There he is.”

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked directed at Richard. “What happened to you?”

“I’m fine. She didn’t do this. Happened earlier.” Richard said, feeling a wave of relief to see a friendly face.

“You didn’t think I would hurt such an illustrious guest now, did you, Mr Bouchard?”

“Of course not, I was just making-” Jonathan broke off and gasped. His hand shot up to his chest. “What…?”

“The binding spell cuts you off from your body, Jonathan. It’s a precaution. If someone gets so close to me, I rather have them unable to return to their body.” the woman said. “So we better make this quick since I prefer talking in person over astral projection.”

Jonathan tried to answer but all he could muster was a pathetic croak. His face was contorted into an expression of immense pain.

“You have to let him go!” Richard rose up with a start. “Please! He only wanted to find me!”

“Shush, my dear.” The woman put a finger to her lips. “Mr Bouchard needs to listen to me. Do I have your attention?”

“Yes.” Jonathan pressed out through gritted teeth. He was leaning forward, holding his chest with both hands by now.

“Your heart is about to stop so I’ll send you back.” she said as if she was talking about the weather. “Come to the apartment entrance of the Shard, my men will be waiting for you.”

Jonathan barely managed to nod before the woman snapped her fingers and his eyes widened as he faded from view.

“You keep very interesting company, Richard.” the woman smiled. “Tea?”
 

---
 

As Jonathan regained consciousness, he found himself in Velkan’s arms. He desperately gasped for air, resulting in a violent cough. Disorientated, he tried to remember where he was and what had happened.

“Jon, babe, say something.” Velkan’s voice was barely audible over the ringing in Jonathan’s ears.

“Is he okay?”

Jonathan took a moment to figure out whom the other voice belonged to. Kearon leaned in a little too close for comfort.

“He’s okay, get out of my face.” Jonathan croaked and tried to sit up but his body betrayed him and refused to function. “Well, not quite okay....”

“We tried to get you back when you started to convulse, but it didn’t work.” Velkan said. He still held on to Jonathan tightly. “What happened?”

“The Shadow Queen happened.” Jonathan accepted his situation for now and allowed himself to lean into Velkan’s embrace. “She bound me there, cut me off from my body.” He smiled warmly at his partner. “Don’t look so disturbed. There was nothing you could have done.”

“That was too close for comfort.”

“All part of the job, eh?”

Jonathan propped himself up against Velkan as his body finally allowed him some control again and kissed his wolf lovingly.

“I’m fine.” he whispered between two kisses. “I’ll always come back to you.”

“Reckless git.” Velkan replied before he kissed him again.

Kearon was suddenly very interested in blowing out the scented candles, his pale face flushed with a dark red.

“Don’t look so embarrassed, Kearon.” Jonathan chuckled. “If there is one thing you have to get used to in this house, it’s this.” However, the moment passed just as quickly and Jonathan freed himself from Velkan’s embrace to stand up even though he was still a bit shaky.

“We need to get to the Shard.”

“The Shard? Of all places?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan shrugged. “It’s a temporary hideout, that’s for sure. One of the empty flats waiting for a bored Russian oligarch to buy and never use.”

“Is Richard-”

“He’s fine. A little worse for wear. I think he gave those guys a run for their money when they attacked him.”

The expression on Velkan’s face was downright endearing. He looked like a proud older sibling who had taught his little brother how to beat up bullies.

“So she didn’t hurt him… thank goodness.” Kearon was gathering the candles and putting them back on the shelves.

“No, she knows better than that. It’s a member of the Ward family she has there.”

Jonathan paced up and down Richard’s room to gain back full control of his body. This was his element. Jonathan had moved in these circles for years, worked his way up to a point that his name held significance even to elusive figures like the Shadow Queen. Knowing how people like her ticked was essential. She had caught him by surprise with the binding spell. That much he gave her but not more. Living in this house had made him rusty but this was his game and he’d be damned if he lost.

“She won’t risk Jeremiah’s ire nor does she want to go up against Elisabeth. That’s our trump card.”

“You sound very confident for someone who almost died just a few minutes ago.” Velkan remarked.

“And that’s why you love me, wolf.”

“What about me?” Kearon asked sheepishly, the final candle in hand. “Do I have to come with you?”

“And deliver yourself right to her? No way. You’re staying here with Castor and Myra to keep an eye on you. And yes, I mean that both to your protection and because I still don’t trust you entirely.”

Jonathan caught Velkan’s disapproving gaze but he ignored it. Velkan was too soft for his own good when it came to the young ones. Kearon’s big teary eyes might move the wolf but at this point, Jonathan needed more to fully trust the Banshee again.

Family

The Shard glistened in the sunlight like a gigantic crystal which rose from the heart of London. Standing directly at its base looking up far into the sky was an almost dizzying experience. However, Jonathan had no eyes for the surreal beauty of the skyscraper as he and Velkan exited London Bridge Tube Station and walked past the entrance to the “View from The Shard”, a tourist trap for those who wanted to go up to the top floor of the building and gaze at London for a while.

This was not what Velkan and he were here to do. The gate to the apartments was separate from the tourist entrance, next to the hotel and the lifts to the high-class restaurant on the 36th floor. Security would be tight here - CCTV, personnel and metal detectors - but now the lobby was deserted save for two men who waited next to the lift doors.

“How ominous.” Velkan said quietly.

“Positively so.” Jonathan flexed his hands. “Ready?”

“Is this some kink of yours?”

“Excuse me?”

Velkan raised an eyebrow and tapped his nose. “Wolf senses? I can smell your arousal. You are very excited.”

“I am. And?”

“Look, I like an adventure just as much as you do but-”

“This is about Richard, I know.” Jonathan placed a hand on Velkan’s broad chest. “Relax. I got this. And I know what is at stake here. I might be enjoying this a bit, yes, but only because this is my turf, Velkan. This is my world. And I missed it.”

He really had missed it. Jonathan felt exhilaration the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in ages. The thrill of a metaphorical game of chess with a major figure of the criminal underworld, THE major figure in this case. Naturally, he would be much more careful in this situation. Richard was a pawn on the board and his safety came first, nevertheless, this was the kind of refreshment he had been craving for a long time.

“Follow my-”

“Really?”

“Okay, okay.” Jonathan winked. “Give me this.”

“Alright.” Velkan sighed dramatically. “I will follow your lead, oh Prince of the Underworld.”

“Oh please, that’s Syd. I’m the King.”

“He’d kill you now.”

“He can certainly try.” Jonathan turned his attention back to the two men who were waiting patiently and silently. “Hello, boys, we have a date with your boss.”

A short lift ride later, Jonathan and Velkan exited into the hallway which lead to the apartment that they were being expected in. As the door opened and they came face to face with the Shadow Queen, realisation dawned on Jonathan’s face. She looked at him with a sense of satisfaction, as if she already had outsmarted him. A feeling Jonathan dreaded but he had to admit that this woman was good. Really, really good.

“Shadow Queen.” He lowered his head for a moment while never taking his eyes off of her.

“So good to see you again, Mr Bouchard. It’s been a while.”

“Too long. And please, call me Jonathan.”

“And this must be Jeremiah’s boy. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Ionescu.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Velkan said. His eyes were scanning the room, looking for threats and, of course, Richard. The Shadow Queen read him correctly and pointed at another door.

“Mr Winters is in the bedroom. I instructed him to wait there when my men informed me about your arrival. Maybe you want to join him and reassure yourself that he is okay. I apologize for the bruises he received in the unfortunate confrontation with my people. They have been punished accordingly, as he will surely tell you.”

Velkan exchanged a look with Jonathan who simply nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

The Shadow Queen waited until Velkan had left the room and closed the door before gesturing towards the couch. Jonathan sat down and she returned to the armchair she had been sitting in earlier.

“How?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? And I know you would since you keep asking me that question every time.” She smiled. “You have been doing well for yourself, Jonathan, but recent choices of yours, I must admit, have taken me by surprise.”

“I always like to keep them guessing.” He knew what she was talking about, of course. The fact that he had joined the Whitechurch Society and lived in Whitechurch Manor. He didn’t have any illusions about the damage this had done to his reputation in certain circles. A decision he hadn’t made lightly and luckily, so far he hadn’t come to regret it.

“So, I take it you have turned over a new leaf. Become… good.”

“You know that the world isn’t black and white, my Queen. You aren’t “evil” just as I am not “good”, whatever others might think of us.”

Jonathan admired the Shadow Queen. He wouldn’t tell her, of course, but he was fully aware that he was in the presence of an incredibly powerful being. Sydney’s true origins were a mystery already, but the Shadow Queen was an entirely different league to the horned demi-god. Unlike him, she was not only very old, positively ancient, but also immensely powerful and dangerous. Neither his magic nor Sydney’s powers were a match for this woman, not even both of them combined, of that Jonathan was sure. She could kill him just as easily as he could swat an annoying fly. And yet, he wasn’t afraid of her. Quite the opposite, really.

“Well said.” She leaned back. “Shall we get to business?”

Jonathan folded his hands and tilted his head, giving the Shadow Queen a small and knowing smile. This had been the opening move. The game was afoot.
 

---
 

“That was kind of anti-climactic.” Richard said as they left the Shard and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

A tourist group brushed past them, trying to look up and walk at the same time while their guide, a young man in a blue shirt with the logo “Doctor Who Tours” on it, told them that the Shard had featured in an episode of the show.

“What? Would you have preferred an epic battle?” Jonathan grinned. “I would think you’d have taken enough punches for a day, Rocky. That’s a nice black eye.”

Richard pouted but Velkan wrapped his arm around his shoulder, visibly happy to have his puppy back. “Don’t listen to him. I’m proud of you. Three against one and you gave them hell.”

“I still don’t think that she needed to kill that one guy.”

“Listen to you, first you bring home a stray and then you get beaten up for him, only to start feeling sorry for a guy who for all intents and purposes would have killed you without batting an eyelash.” Jonathan chuckled. “You’re too good for this world, Richard. A wonder the Shadow Queen didn’t burst into flame faced with someone so pure.”

Richard opened his mouth to reply to Jonathan’s teasing but then he closed it again and blinked. He looked back at the Shard.

“What the…?”

“You noticed, didn’t you?”

Velkan looked back and forth between the two men. “What are you talking about? Noticed what?”

“The Shadow Queen.” Jonathan said. “What did she look like?”

“She…” Velkan trailed off. “She…” He scratched his head. “I can’t remember.”

“Neither can I.” Richard agreed.

“Me neither.” Jonathan scoffed. “She’s a clever bitch. I realized that when we came into the apartment and met her. I instantly remembered her face. We have met several times, but you forget what she looks like after the meeting is over. Sydney can learn a bit from her.”

“Yeah, better not tell him that. He’d be insufferable.”

“Isn’t he always?” Jonathan grinned. “Let’s go.” He started towards the tube station.

“What did you talk about with her?” Velkan asked as he and Richard caught up to Jonathan. “I didn’t know what to expect but I sure as hell didn’t think we’d walk in there, you have a bit of a chat and we leave.”

“She’s a businesswoman.” Jonathan shrugged and tapped his empty hand on the scanner at the turnpike. It reacted as if he was using an Oyster Card, instantly granting him access. Velkan and Richard followed suit, though they had to use their actual cards.

“She knew that she had something of value there.” Jonathan continued as they stood on the escalator down to the platform. “So she suggested a simple transaction. Kearon is useless to her as he is so she wrote that investment off and she knows that she can’t get on Elisabeth’s nor Jeremiah’s bad side. There is a power balance in London.”

They lined up next to the tracks, waiting for the train of the Northern Line to arrive which would take them directly to Highgate Tube Station.

“And you expected that.”

“I hoped for it.” Jonathan said. “She only stands to gain from a good relationship to Whitechurch Manor. So all she asked in exchange for Richard was a favour which I promised her. And my word means something. She knows my reputation.”

“What favour?” Velkan asked, alarmed.

“I will find out when the time comes.”

“You seem really unbothered by owning a criminal mastermind a favour.” Richard said.

“Why would I be bothered? I used to be one of those people, Richard. I know how it works. You share a house with a guy who is just like the Shadow Queen. Well, he wishes. I wonder if she knows that he is the Lord of the Bone Market. I doubt it, though. Must give Sydney that, he might not have the power to make people forget his face, the Gods know I sometimes would love to, but he is good at keeping his identity a secret.”

“And what if what she asks of you isn’t legal?”

Jonathan looked at Velkan instead of replying. He raised his eyebrows a little and twisted his mouth.

“Stupid question. It will be illegal.” Velkan sighed.

“Of course it will be.” Jonathan grinned. “We’ll see what she’s up to when she comes to collect.” The train arrived and commuters poured out into the station. “Let’s leave it at that and celebrate our victory, eh?” Jonathan added and stepped onto the train.

Velkan and Richard exchanged a glance and the older wolf raised his shoulders in defeat before they followed him.
 

---
 

Night had fallen over Whitechurch Manor in the wake of the events of the day. A strange sense of peace lay over the mansion on North Hill after secrets had been revealed; a new friend had been welcomed into the fold and a deal had been struck with the devil. The mistress of Whitechurch Manor, Elisabeth Whitechurch, looked out of the window of her study down into the garden. There were two versions of Elisabeth: the one she showed to the world, the stern and driven political power player who regularly had tea with her royal namesake in Buckingham Palace and the one Jonathan sat across from now, the one who enjoyed wearing flowing dresses and literally let the long dark curls of her hair down once she was in the walls of her ancestral home.

Elisabeth Whitechurch was a fixture of the supernatural world ever since she became part of it in the late 1800s. The vampire had seen her legacy through World Wars and through the ever-changing political landscape of the planet into the new millennium. With her as its head, the Whitechurch Society had turned from a few people in the house on the hill into a world-wide network of operatives and specialists. Jonathan had always been aware of the actions of the Society, their support in times of crisis, their intervention when their help was requested and their expertise in dealing with supernatural threats and keeping up the veil between the human world and supernatural.

To him, they had always seemed like goody-two-shoes. Not worth a second thought unless they got in his way. And now he was one of them. Quite ironic.

Next to Jonathan, Elisabeth’s husband Tobias took a sip from his brandy and leaned back in the comfortable armchair. One could clearly see the family resemblance but where his older brother Velkan was a rugged goofball, Toby was a controlled presence rarely seen without a tailored suit, his hair always on point and his dark beard well-groomed. However, even he had loosened his tie here in the homeliness of the manor.

“That’s quite a chain of events which didn’t even warrant a phone call.” Elisabeth said after Jonathan had finished his recount of the day’s events.

“We had it under control.”

“Obviously.” Tobias chuckled. “If you call making a deal with the Shadow Queen “under control”. Though I’d say there could have been worse outcomes. As deals with shady individuals go, she might be preferable to many of my esteemed colleagues at Whitehall.”

“Whatever you will do for her, it will be off the books.” Elisabeth turned around. “I can’t have Whitechurch operatives run errands for someone like her. Sydney’s presence here is only acceptable because no one knows who he really is.”

“And that he helped build this place up and is a close friend, eh?” Jonathan winked, clearly aware of Elisabeth’s narrowing eyes. “Don’t worry. When she comes to collect, I will do my thing and nobody else has to bother with it.”

“Have you told Velkan that?” Tobias smirked. “I think he might have an opinion on that.”

“I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” Jonathan drank from his own brandy, even though he preferred whisky. “So you’ll let Kearon stay?”

“After all this mess it would be cruel not to. As long as he keeps his facts straight for now.” Elisabeth sat down at her desk. “I admit it’s a fascinating case. A Banshee who is transgender. He’s one of a kind. And with his powers in disarray, it is probably safest for him to be among people who specialize in the unknown.”

“Myra will be delighted. Finally, someone new to experiment on. Though we might have seen the last of Syd, given how he went off like a shot as soon as Kearon stepped onto the scene.” Jonathan agreed. “Once he heard Kearon would stay, he was out the door with more luggage than I ever owned in my entire life.”

“He’ll be back, just give him some time to adjust.”

“What was that about? You know him longer than all of us and intimately.”

“A fact I’d like to forget.” Toby growled but his face brightened up as his wife gave him an affectionate smile before turning back towards Jonathan.

“He overreacted. It’s death or rather things and beings which are closely associated to it, if I should make an educated guess. Reminds him of mortality. At least that’s my attempt as a layman of psychology at making sense of our dear Sydney. He’ll be back as soon as he tires of shopping and begins to miss Castor. To him the mansion always had a revolving door.”

“You can say that again.” Jonathan rose from his seat. “Well, everyone is downstairs throwing a welcome party for Kearon, will you join us?”

“We’ll be down in a moment.”

“Very well.”

“And hands off the whisky!” Toby chuckled. “I saw that the decanter in the drawing room is empty yet again.”

Jonathan held up his hands in mock defence. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

He left the two alone and made his way towards the entrance hall. Light flooded out of the open door of the drawing room and he could hear happy chit-chat and laughter as he arrived at the grand staircase. His mobile vibrated in his pocket. A message from an unknown number.

It’s nice to know that you haven’t lost your touch.

Jonathan snorted and put the phone back. No, he hadn’t lost his touch. And he wouldn’t, even though he was now part of the goody-two-shoes. With that, he walked down the stairs to join the party.
 

---
 

Richard pushed open the front door of the mansion and walked out into the garden. The moon was shining brightly in the sky, illuminating the great fountain at the end of the driveway, as masterful creation depicting all kinds of fantastic creatures like fauns and fairies in a wild dance around a central intricate carved stone dais.

He sat down on the side of the fountain and looked at the calm water in the pool. Even in the pale moonlight, he could clearly make out the bruises on his face. And they made him proud. He had been in his first real fight and while he had been taken down ultimately, he had been able to stand his ground against three opponents for a while.

The creaking sound of the great double door of the mansion drew him back his thoughts. Kearon stood there, looking a little lost and embarrassed. His pale cheeks were flushed, they had all been drinking and Richard, too, felt a little tipsy.

“I needed some fresh air. And you? Running away from your own party?”

“No, it’s just....” Kearon stopped. He stared at the ground in front of his feet, his long fingers playing nervously with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry!” It exploded out of him as he looked up at Richard, his purple eyes widened. “I’m so sorry!”

Richard smiled benevolently. They hadn’t really talked about what happened after his return to the manor. There hadn’t been a chance.

“It’s okay.”

“No! No, it’s not okay! You were nothing but kind to me and I lied to you and I-”

“Stop!” Richard held up his hand. “Stop it, Kearon. I said it’s okay and I mean it. I was in your shoes. I lived on the streets. I know how it eats away at your faith in other people and how it makes you question whether to tell the truth or not. Anything to survive. You have a home now and I hope that it does to you what it did to me: Show you that you’re loved. That there are people you can trust.”

Kearon stared at him before nodding slowly, his face showing confusion and relief in equal measure.

“Just promise me that there won’t be lies between us anymore.” Richard finished.

“I… I promise.”

“Then everything is okay. And you should get back in; the others want to get to know you better. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Kearon smiled faintly before nodding again. “I guess… you’re right. Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. It’s what family does.”

The Banshee walked back to the door, looking over towards Richard one last time before returning inside and closing the door.

Richard’s eyes wandered over to the windows of the drawing room. They were glowing with the warm light from inside and he could see Myra chatting with Velkan, both of them turning their attention towards Kearon as he joined them.

“Family…” Richard said under his breath before standing up and going back to the house.
 

The End… for now.

Epilog: Wounded

It wasn’t the first time other people’s recklessness had resulted in him being the one to shoulder the burden of their mistakes. Being the biggest out of the group, it was practically in the job description whether it was said so or not. Either way, Velkan made no show of just how gruesome his wounds were for the sake of the group, moreover for the sake of the guilt-wrecked Banshee quivering in the corner of the kitchen.

“It’s not as bad as it seems, Kearon. Truthfully, mate. You can relax.” Velkan assured, gritting his teeth into a non-convincing smile as his partner, Jonathan, pressed a wet rag to a particularly deep and angry cut on his bicep.

“Better you than him,” Jonathan said grimly. There was no trace of jest in his eyes as Velkan looked into them, expecting there to be at least a smidge of sarcasm in his words. “Cut like this would have killed him outright.”

Kearon wilted even more in the corner, hugging himself so tightly Velkan worried for the kid’s breathing.

“Oh god!” Kearon wailed. His lower lip trembled and he took a step forward. The young Banshee chewed his lower lip anxiously before settling back in the corner, watching with red-rimmed eyes.

“Good going, babe,” Velkan grumbled. Jonathan shrugged.

“He needs to know the implications of his actions. And the consequences. Hold that there,” Jonathan instructed. Velkan rolled his eyes and offered Kearon a reassuring smile.

“It’s a common mistake,” Velkan shrugged.

“No, it isn’t,” Jonathan objected. Kearon whimpered and looked like he was going to faint. A low growl rumbled from deep inside Velkan’s chest. Before the wolf could chastise his lover, the door to the kitchen opened, nearly smashing into Kearon who was huddled in on himself behind it.

“So I heard the wolf almost got himself killed saving the Tran-!” Sydney began as he skipped into the room as if it were Christmas morning.

“SYDNEY!” Velkan interrupted loudly. Sydney’s brow crumpled and Velkan jerked his head forward, indicating for Sydney to turn around. He quirked an eyebrow and did so, noticing Kearon in the corner.

“Ah. Yes, that would be him.” Sydney nodded, plastering on a painfully fake smile. “Hey there, death-baby. How’s it going?” Sydney gave a curt wave of his hand before turning his back on Kearon, a look of guilt flitting across his face.

“So what is it Liz has you chasing this time?” Sydney continued. He stepped closer to Velkan, his eyes inspecting every cut and bruise on the wolf with scary precision.

“We actually could have used your help on this one.” Jonathan said. He came back from rummaging around in his bag on the chair. “It was some type of barbed thorn demon in Hyde Park. Whatever is in its venom won’t let me close the wound. I already stitched him up twice and it’s eating through my stitches.”

“Mon dieu! Are you sewing with your eyes closed, Blondie?” Sydney snorted. Jonathan stood up and levelled Sydney with a challenging glare.

“You think you can do better?”

“Yes.” Sydney said simply and plucked the needle and thread out of Jonathan’s hand. He shooed Jonathan out of his way and stood next to the wolf, the patient having been instructed before to take a seat on the table so Jonathan could work level with him.

“So, what went wrong?” Sydney wanted to know.

“Ouch!” Velkan yelped as Sydney pierced his skin with the needle.

“Baby,” Jonathan teased, his thin lips pulling into a smirk. Velkan stuck his tongue out at him. Jonathan turned to Kearon and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He gestured for the Banshee to come out of the corner.

“Care to enlighten the short horny bloke on what went wrong?” Jonathan said.

“I could just as easily sew your mouth shut when I’m done here,” Sydney said in a tone that had the rest of them questioning the levity of his claim.

“I…..” Kearon cleared his throat and avoided looking at anybody’s eyes; he avoided looking at Velkan altogether. “I stalled. I had the chance t-t-to incapacitate him with a scream-”

“Whoa, what?” Sydney said sharply, his eyes cutting to Velkan and Jonathan. “He’s using his scream in the field already?”

“Yes.” Jonathan said. “He has been for quite some time now.”

“You’d know that if you were here more often and not gallivanting around Paris,” Velkan said but with a snicker. Sydney said nothing but Kearon noticed that he shifted away from him.

“I stalled and.. and... Velkan stepped in the way to take the blow.” Kearon said.

“Stupid,” Sydney said.

“Hey! Be nice, he’s new to going on missions with us.” Velkan snapped.

“Not him, idiot. I mean you!” Sydney said. He finished sewing the cut shut and bit the string off. Jonathan put his hand on his hip and pointed at the wound.

“Now watch. It’ll start to fray.” Jonathan said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…..” Sydney said. He held his hand over the wound and danced his fingers along with the stitches as if he was playing the piano, his slender digits moving sensuously. Tendrils of green vapour spun from the tips of his fingers, curling back against his hand and snaking through his fingers, lithesome and entrancing. Sydney bent his wrist forward only a bit and the vapour darted forward like a snake at Velkan’s wound. Sydney continued his finger-dancing, his mouth falling open a bit. A second snap of his wrist and the vapours streamed into Velkan’s wound, pulling away from Sydney’s fingers until they vanished into the wolf’s skin completely.

“What was that?” Kearon asked his voice barely over a whisper.

“I encouraged Velkan’s body to heal faster by giving his already impressive regenerative abilities a pheromone boost,” Sydney said, again not even looking at Kearon. Velkan looked at his arm and gently touched the stitching, cringing as it clearly still hurt.

“It’s holding,” Velkan observed.

“Of course it is,” Sydney said, glowing with pride. Jonathan mumbled something that sounded like ‘show-off.’

“What about that scratch you got, little buddy?” Velkan asked. “Shall we take a look at it?”

“Probably better. hm?” Jonathan said, stepping over to Kearon. The Banshee took a reflexive step back. Jonathan’s eyes widened and he held his hands up. “Whoa…sorry. I was just going to have a look.”

“I’m…I’m fine. It is really… really just a scratch… I…I think I’m going to take a shower. You know…clean up a little bit.” Kearon said, excusing himself. He slipped through the door and headed towards the stairs before anyone could react. Almost up the steps to the door into the grand hall, he stopped and listened even though he didn’t know if he wanted to hear what they were talking about now.

“When has he started screaming?” Sydney asked.

“About a week ago. We have him training with small things first, you know. Localizing it, focusing it on one central object.” Velkan said. “Which, I must admit, still needs work.”

“How is the ringing in your ear?” Jonathan teased.

“Oh come on, that was an accident. He’ll get there. Just wait, he’ll direct that awful sound like a pro soon enough.”

“Oh, so he’ll be a precision killer. That’s good.” Sydney said, sarcasm abounds.

“He won’t be much of anything if he keeps freezing like that,” Jonathan said. “His fear-inducing ability is powerful but he has almost no control over it and it’s of little use because he has to touch people for it. If he can’t master that scream, he’ll be dead weight.”

“Babe.”

“It’s true. Some people are not cut out for this work. That’s why they go to Paris to shop instead.”

“About sewing your mouth shut…” Sydney said, causing a burst of laughter from both Velkan and Jonathan.

Kearon couldn’t listen to anymore. He hurried up the stairs and through the door into the hall, desperate for a shower.
 

---
 

Half an hour later, Kearon was sitting on his bed and stared at the wall across from him. His hair was still wet and the purple ends darker than usual. He had picked a room close to the stairs which led up to where Richard and Tariq lived and across the hall from Myra. He didn’t own much but the room was made homely by presents which he had received from the others.

A string of fairy lights which he had gotten from Richard was draped over the shelf with his books. Velkan had made a sketch of Richard and Kearon which Kearon kept in a frame next to the books. Tariq had given him a scented candle, which was a sign of true friendship according to Richard since the Ifrit was obsessed with those.

Now staring at those presents brought tears to his eyes. He jumped as he heard a knocking on the door.

“It’s me. Can I come in?” Velkan said muffled through the wood.

“Just a moment!” Kearon scrambled off the bed and quickly put on some jeans and a shirt. “Come in!” he said and then noticed he was wearing the shirt backwards.

“Can we talk?” Velkan asked as he came into the room. If he noticed that Kearon was wearing his shirt the wrong way, he didn’t show it.

“... sure.”

Kearon sat down on the bed, a little uncertain what to do and where to look, while Velkan sat cross-legged on the floor, smiling up to him.

“You know I have good ears, right?”

Kearon nodded. His eyes were fixed on the reddened line of stitches on Velkan’s bicep.

“I heard the door and your steps, you were listening in.”

Kearon flushed but nodded again. “It’s okay… what Jon said... “

“He doesn’t mean it-” Velkan started but Kearon interrupted him right away.

“He does. And he’s right. I’m useless.”

“Don’t say that, little buddy. You’re only just starting. And I was against taking you along, to begin with. It’s too early. Hell, I would be against Richard going out there if he wasn’t old enough to decide. Same goes for Myra. I hate seeing you guys in danger.”

“But I need to be useful!” Kearon’s long fingers dug into his duvet. “I need to be, because…”

“Because otherwise, we’ll kick you out?”

Kearon looked up, finally meeting Velkan’s gaze. He didn’t know what to say but the wolf was right. He was scared of being useless for exactly that reason. Everyone in this group played a part. Everyone but him. Everyone had his place here. Everyone… but him.

“Do you really believe that?” Velkan said quietly, a warm smile on his face. He had read Kearon’s expression correctly. “Do you really think that Richard or I would allow that, even if it were true?”

“You are… my family…” he muttered, a tear running down his cheek at last. He wiped it off quickly, not wanting Velkan to see it.

“We are. And that’s all that matters.” Velkan stood up from the floor and took his place next to Kearon on the bed, wrapped his arm around Kearon’s thin frame and gently pulled him closer. Kearon felt a lump in his throat and fought down the tears which tried to come up into his eyes. He needed to be strong.

“You got… got... hurt because of … because of… me.”

“And I’m glad it wasn’t you, little buddy.”

“... I’m…”

“You’re not useless,” Velkan said with benevolent determination. “You are part of this family and nothing will change that. If you want to see useless, look at Sydney. He’s off shopping half of the time or doing Gods know what.”

Choked laughter escaped Kearon. “Don’t let him hear that…”

“What’s he going to do? I’m stronger than he is.” Velkan winked. “You don’t have to prove your place here, Kearon. This is your home. And when you’re ready, you’ll know it. And if you really don’t find your place in the field, it doesn’t matter either. Take Castor, for example. He’s strong as a horse but he’s usually not with us on assignments.”

Kearon still wasn’t fully convinced but he also couldn’t argue with what Velkan told him. He sat up straight, though the corners of his mouth still quivered a little. He gave Velkan a brave and determined nod, which was mostly to convince himself.

“What about the scratch on your arm?”

“It’s really okay. It wasn’t bad.” He showed the wolf the spot where he covered the wound with a bandaid after he had carefully cleaned it under the shower.

“See? You’re stronger than you think.”

“If you say so…”

“We’ll work on that response.” Velkan chuckled. “How about we go downstairs and watch some telly together? Or we could head out to Folklores.”

“I’d like that,” Kearon said, not picking either. He rather meant it as a general decision because no matter what they did, he was glad to be with his family.