MYTHIC CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol use, homelessness, starvation, addiction mention, kidnapping, chains, arson, murder, blood play, sexual content, slavery mention
CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol use, homelessness, addiction mention, slavery mention
No matter the dimension, the crisp, damp chill of the night on the London streets remained the same. Wolfram smiled and drew in a deep breath of the familiar chilled air. Even the electric whine of the neon billboards and hawking of the automated door greets couldn’t take away the simple fact that this was London.
Turning in a slow circle with his boots crunching on the pavement, Wolfram’s golden eyes roamed the square and took in the sights. Soft lights of myriad colors turned night to day; shadows clung to alleys and doorways, shying away from the touch of the artificial light. With all the glowing billboards, neon signs, and street lights, nothing stayed shrouded in shadow for long.
“Wolfram! You made it!” The excited shout came from his left, and the Witch turned. His easy smile turned to a wide grin as he spied one of those he’d come to see. Not too far down the street, an enormous dark-haired, tan skinned man in a fur-lined jacket waved his hand wildly. Ivan towered over the London shoppers, and his bulk pushed the tide of people out of the way for the petite woman who followed him.
“Rose, Ivan,” Wolfram greeted, kissing both on the cheeks and squeezing their shoulders. “I’m so glad to see you two doing well!”
The giant Slavic man grinned back, pushing his dark hair out of his bright blue eyes. “We should be the ones saying that. Last we saw you, you got called away to stop a plague.”
Wolfram shrugged, causing the metal feathers hanging from one ear to clink together. “It’s the life I lead. I can’t just sit back and watch innocent children die because of a biochemical weapon that shouldn’t even exist.”
Rose—a petite ebony-skinned woman who stood no taller than five-foot-two and had strawberry-blonde braids down to her tailbone—let out an expressive sigh and leveled a no-nonsense look at Wolfram. Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head to the side, exposing the edges of protective runes inked into her skin. “You could, but you’re far too nice of a person. Plenty of people, if they had your power, wouldn’t lift a finger if they couldn’t extort payment.”
The Witch smiled at her and pressed an affectionate kiss to her strawberry-blonde head. “And that’s why I must without asking for anything in return. Now, where did you want to eat?”
Rose rolled her hazel eyes, but didn’t argue further. Ivan snorted and gestured with his chin back to where they’d come from.
“There’s a good pub just up the way,” Ivan said, “and we can talk there. Privacy curtains around every booth.”
Wolfram raised a dark eyebrow but nodded. “Then lead the way. You’re making me rather curious.”
“Not here,” Rose hissed, glancing around her. “Let’s get to the booth we reserved.”
Nodding, Ivan turned and led the way back through the tide of shop-goers. Wolfram kept close to the two, his golden eyes roving around them for signs of watchers. Once the three slid into a booth at the pub and tapped a few keys on the panel, a dense shimmering curtain flowed around them. The curtain sealed in their talk and hid them from prying eyes.
For good measure, Wolfram held up a hand to stop Rose from launching into whatever was bothering them. Purple and black smoke ghosted from his palm and suddenly spread through the booth, encompassing the group. It climbed the walls and clung to the curtain before dissipating.
“Safe now,” Wolfram said, leaning back into the booth as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. “Now, what’s going on? You wouldn’t call me here if it wasn’t important.”
Rose nodded. “It is. You know we’ve had problems in the past with witches falling under the thrall of vampires and fae using us for their amusement.” Wolfram nodded, frowning. “After the last incident, the Council put stronger restrictions in place and made sure to increase our intelligence network, but… we just heard there’s been an increase in witch blood on the black market. Vampires and fae are paying dizzying sums for just a single vial. We’re worse off than before, and we need help.”
“Not only that,” Ivan interjected, wrapping an arm around Rose’s shoulders, “but we heard there’s a few vials of extremely potent magical blood on the market. A vampire got a hold of it for an exorbitant rate, and he’s claiming it wasn’t witch blood. He’s claiming it’s something different—something he hasn’t tasted before. People are tracking down anyone with magic in their veins to try and find the source.”
“What do you think it was?” Wolfram asked, rubbing at his stubbled chin.
“We’re not sure,” Rose said, glancing at Ivan. “When you were last here… did anyone have the chance to take blood from you?”
Leaning his head back against the top of the booth, Wolfram stared up at the ceiling, thinking back. After a moment of running through the whirlwind of events, he shook his head. “Not that I can recall. I’ll admit, it’s been a bit since then, so I could be wrong… but if I am, it’s not possible that my blood would still be viable, no matter the methods used to preserve it”
Rose nodded, “That’s what we thought, too, but word is they’ve found new ways to keep the blood good during storage, transport, and delivery. I’m not sure on the details. We haven’t been able to get our hands on a vial, so we can’t verify anything.”
A frown tugged at his lips, and Wolfram turned his golden eyes to the pub around them. “I’ll keep my eyes open for anything and put feelers out. I still have a few friends in this realm.”
“Not many outside witches and shifters, I’m afraid,” Ivan rumbled. “After last time, you made more enemies than friends. The other supes didn’t care for you disrupting their businesses…”
Wolfram shrugged nonchalantly. “Then they shouldn’t have tried to make witches and shifters into slaves.”
Ivan snorted. “No complaints there. I’d rather not end up on a chain myself.”
“I doubt anyone could chain you,” Rose said, lifting her chin in pride.
But Ivan shook his head. “Arrogance gets one in trouble. You should know this better than anyone, love.”
Rose huffed and leaned against Ivan. “But confidence in your abilities and knowledge of what you’re capable of goes a long way.”
A rumble of acceptance came from the giant of a man as he wrapped the petite witch into his arms and rested his chin atop her head.
“I am confident in our abilities, together,” Ivan rumbled.
Rose flushed and clutched at his arms, biting her lip. “I don’t know how you can say such things with a straight face.”
The big man chuckled and squeezed her again, before loosening his grip. “It’s because I love you. Head over heels. Follow you anywhere.”
Her flush darkened and Rose shoved the big man away before burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gods, please stop.”
Ivan laughed, but relented. “Yes, yes… public displays and all that.” The big man turned his bright blue eyes from Rose to Wolfram and sobered instantly. “Suffice to say… you should be careful this time. We need your help, this is true, but we do not wish it at the cost of your life.”
Smiling to the two of them, Wolfram ran his hand through his dark brown, sweeping curls. "I won't put my life in danger. Promise. But I will not turn my back on you, either. If I find anything out, you'll be the first to know."
"Where is your house this time?" Rose asked, pressing a button to bring up the pub's menu.
"Haven't placed it yet," Wolfram replied, "I wanted to see what you needed before making a decision."
"You should place it among our covenant," Ivan offered, "that way you know you'll be among friends."
The Witch smiled and nodded, "I'd appreciate that… but I wouldn't want to impose on the Coven. You know my home is charmed to attract those in need. Do you want your Coven garnering that kind of attention?"
Rose let out a low groan. "Ack, I forgot about that! Aaaah… do you absolutely need your house this time? Do you need anything in it?"
Wolfram chuckled and smiled indulgently. "I know your Coven has quite a bit in the way of ingredients… but yes, I do, need my house. I don't want to put anyone out. I'll find a space out of the way, probably off Cauffman. Where I was last time worked well."
Ivan hummed but nodded his assent. "I suppose that's fine. I hate knowing you won't be close, though, in case anything happens."
But the Witch waved his hand, the rings on his tanned fingers flashing in the pub's light. "Don't worry. Attracting those in need isn't the only thing my home does. I am perfectly safe in my own home."
Ivan let out a breath and glanced at Rose. For her part, the Coven leader nodded. "Just… be careful."
"I will," Wolfram promised again. "Now… are we just here to chat and stare at the decor, or are we drinking?"
With a grin, Rose tapped in her order. Ivan shook his head and tapped a couple of icons over her shoulder. "What's your poison?"
"Whatever's local," Wolfram replied, "and some wings or other appetizers."
Rose tapped the screen again and hit the send button. "Appetizers sound fantastic right now."
By the time Wolfram left Rose and Ivan, the big Russian could hardly walk straight. Rose, by contrast, seemed stone-cold sober, yet had drunk enough to embalm a corpse. Supporting the big man somehow, Rose waved Wolfram off.
"I'll come by sometime tomorrow after I make sure my puppy's not dying," Rose said, adjusting Ivan's weight.
"I look forward to it," Wolfram replied. He watched the two of them disappear into the crowd before he set off down the street. Once he'd oriented himself, Wolfram slipped through pedestrians and took the nearest alleyway. Using the backstreets always reminded the Witch of the reason he continued to skip through dimensions.
Though this era had fewer homeless and hopeless than others, there remained cracks in any government system. People slid through the cracks and got lost in the void of back alleys, under bridges, and metal barrel fires.
The curious stares shot his way only ached his heart, tugging him to action.
Against his people's Code, against everything he'd been taught, Wolfram could not resist helping.
Stopping at the first cough, Wolfram knelt in front of an older woman, huddled in three or four jackets. Her reddened cheeks and glassy eyes told the Witch all he needed.
Fever compounded with addiction withdrawal.
Wolfram reached into his coat, into the spatial storage, and pulled out a small bag with a single white oblong pill.
"You have a fever," Wolfram said carefully, "if you take this, you'll feel better."
The Witch pushed the pill bag into her palm, then pressed her hand against her chest. After a moment, he stood and returned to his path. He could have done more; but without knowing what she'd been addicted to, he couldn't risk making her worse. That pill would get rid of the fever, at the very least.
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