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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 9: A Puzzle with No Edges

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The protection spell is cast, which means the time has come to identify their enemy. Easier said than done. Things get a little complicated when henchmen arrive with their eyes set on Cadence.

[READ IT ON AO3]

He’s ready to flinch away when Ryder presses the still-smoking charred end to the back of his hand — but doesn’t need to. The tightly-wound bundle of herbs is warm but doesn’t burn. Just leaves smeared black ash in its wake.

“Not to break your concentration or anything…”

“Then don’t.”

“Too late. This stuff isn’t permanent, is it? Like, it’ll come off?” All he can think is how so not happy the company director will be if he shows up to rehearsal with occult symbols twirling up his arms. Especially when the Oberon costume is pretty much sans shirt.

Ryder doesn’t stop as he carefully traces the symbols from Ivy’s borrowed tome. “And here I was thinkin’ you wanted to be protected.”

He does. “I do! I just —”

“Stop being an asshole, Ryder. Once the spell is complete it’ll basically act like a magical cloak. The smudge ash is just a conduit. You’ll be fine.”

Katherine leans over Taylor’s shoulder; watches with the curiosity of someone who doesn’t have anything better to do. And since she explained how, once she and Cadence were sure they were off the tail of Persephone’s — and Lady Smoke’s — henchmen, she was back on standby until the vampire had use of her again? She really doesn’t.

“Good to know.” Taylor sighs in relief; lets Ryder keep drawing.

He stops just below the crook of Taylor’s elbow and switches to the next arm. Taylor’s trying his best not to squirm but he can’t help it — this shit tickles! Makes him yank his arm to the side involuntarily.

Ryder just grunts, yanks, and wipes away the mistake with a bit of spit on the pad of his thumb.

“Ew.”

“Get over it.”

There’s a quick rap of knuckles on the open front door. Of the four apartments only two are in use so there’s not much worry about who it is.

Ryder pulls back and takes Taylor’s wrists in his. Inspects his work with gentle turns and doubled-back looks at the instructions in the book. Cal appears with a brief crinkle of his sensitive nose but smiles and waves nevertheless. Only when Taylor tries to wave back Nik grunts and holds his arm tighter.

“How goes it?” Cal takes up the empty armchair opposite them. Looks to Taylor like he knows what’s going on and isn’t that a laugh.

“Good, I think?” He leaves his words hanging in the hopes that Nik might take up the lead but… not exactly. “Sure, we’ll go with good.”

The Nighthunter tosses the half-burnt bundle into a silver dish. “That Hunter’s Sage was good shit, Lowell.”

“Does that mean it’s helping?”

He picks up the book and settles it in his lap; twirls a stone pendant in his fingers as he reads. “Time to find out.”

The fact that Katherine steps back doesn’t settle well in Taylor’s stomach. Even the smile she offers is only halfway reassuring. So instead he looks to the werewolf for comfort — and Cal holds his gaze like he’s holding Taylor’s hand to help him through it.

The air is thick with the lingering smell of charred herbs. Even with the windows open the muggy Southern evening makes the sweat on the back of his neck cling to him. Coats him tacky and unsure.

The fact that Ryder and Katherine can still wear their leather gear without complaint is either a serious power move or just plain supernatural. Both are viable options at this point.

Ryder wraps the pendant’s leather cord in his fist and holds it aloft; dips the chipped yellow stone into a glass bowl still foaming at the mouth with all the ingredients they’d procured from Luc’s back rooms. It comes out dripping with the pearly brew — not even a drop wasted as it swings wide and stops over Taylor’s marked arms.

Despite the fact that Taylor himself had taken the ingredients off of the dutch oven on the nearby stove each drop is cold as ice as it falls onto the runes — seeps into his skin, his bones and chills him all the way down to the marrow.

“Nos rejecto nostro quod mortale est a servis suis ut altius virtute. Ubi autem non est datum quaerere Sanctuarii. Itaque accepimus ipsis facti ignara cladis virtutes invocare. Postulamus illorum tutela…”†

No one dares interrupt the Latin curling on Ryder’s tongue. Not just for the sake of the spell — there’s a beauty to his careful incantation that holds them captive listeners. Willing, but captive.

No way the small surface of the stone should hold as much of the potion as it seems to. Even when it hangs closer to his eyes Taylor can’t see a porous surface or hole to drip from. But now probably isn’t the time to question the mechanics of magic.

Careful not to miss a word Ryder’s finger traces underneath the hand-written invocation. “Postulamus ab oculis eorum. Hoc tu arcebis auferat sua mala, et a dolore suo. Praesidio cute quod tactus de turpi, ex quo sanguis malus est animus a nequitia sua.”

The thought I’m going to get through my first spell without freaking out isn’t even fully formed when it becomes a lie.

When a strange tingling besets across the surface of the runes. Pinpricks of tiny needles like his arms have fallen asleep but only where the ash is drawn.

It’s probably just the spell. It’s definitely just the spell. It’s just the spell, right?

Only he’s a tingled breath away from asking when Ryder — like he’s sensed Taylor’s interruption — holds up a finger.

“Et hoc usque dum facinus patratur malum exitum.”

It stops in sync with Ryder’s chant. With the droplets from the stone which Ryder tosses aside; no longer of use.

Only he keeps reading — doesn’t give indication good or bad whether the spell worked or not.

Thankfully Taylor isn’t the only impatient one. Not when Cal not-so-subtly coughs into his fist.

“So is that it? Did it work?”

Please, please say it worked.

Katherine shrugs — but steps forward back into potential harms’ way. “No one blew up so that’s a good sign.”

“I didn’t know — seriously?” If Taylor looks between the hunters any quicker he’s going to get whiplash. “That was on the table? Why didn’t you tell me that was on the table?”

“Because it wasn’t,” explains Nik curtly, “not when I’m the one casting. Kathy on the other hand — she’s got a reputation for that kind of thing.” He finally pries himself away from Ivy’s book to give his rival a sardonic raise of his eyebrows.

“Touché.”

But Cal hasn’t gotten his answer and makes a point in telling them. “Just ‘cause no one blew up doesn’t mean it worked. Did. it. work? Is he protected?”

Maybe the way Ryder lets his hand linger on Taylor’s knee is a bit awkward — but not uncomfortable. Like his touch is an extension of the spell. He even gives what may be the first look of hope Taylor’s ever seen.

“We can’t be certain until we’re outta the Shift’s wards but yeah; yeah I think so.”

It’s good news. Arbitrarily good, but good — and boy does he need a dose of good right about now.

“We should go tell the others.” Taylor stands and tucks Ivy’s book at his side.

“We should start workin’ on tracking down what’s after you.”

“Why not both?” It doesn’t take supernatural senses to know there’s another round of bickering on the horizon — so Cal takes it upon himself to pluck the book in hand; gestures to Taylor’s smudge-tattooed forearms. “We’ll start team strategy downstairs and, Taylor, if you wanna get rid of all that?”

Yes, yes he wants to very badly.

Ryder frowns, starts to argue; “This ain’t a team sport — hey! Kujo, get back here with that book!” And is caught between standing his ground and doing his job when Cal darts out towards the hallway staircase.

Katherine gives a shake of her head but doesn’t do much to hide her bemusement at their antics. “Go on,” she tells Taylor on her way out, “I’ll make sure they don’t throttle each other. At least not until you can bet on the winner.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He closes the door behind her — closes it, but doesn’t turn the lock just in case — and heads to shower off the spellwork.

“I asked nicely, Smith. Now I’m telling; calm down before I have to rethink lifting your ban!”

“Come on Garrus, but him some slack. He’s excited.”

“Well an excited vampire does not a friendly and relaxed environment make! At least move all this to a table — I don’t have any room to serve drinks!”

The rest of the Shift comes into view when Taylor finishes rubbing his hair dry and tosses the towel over his shoulder.

Sure enough Cadence — still imposingly tall with Krom sitting at a booth — hovers over a spread of papers, folders, and what look like newspaper clippings scattered across the bartop.

Garrus huffs with two large wooden steins filled to frothing in his hands. Practically shoves them at Cal on the other side of the bar with a flippant and frustrated gesture to the customers waiting while engrossed in their billiards at the front.

Katherine continues defending Cade — though at this point it seems a little more involved than simple loyalty to her employer. It’s the same concern she had for him in the cage fight.

Only he hopes this won’t end similarly.

“I can’t believe you’re not interested, Garrus,” Cadence laughs with borderline hilarity; opens a manila folder and pulls out thick embossed paper that oozes age and historical importance. “Or was I only interesting when I was shiny and fresh from the war?”

“Oi!” barks Ivy from her booth; looking up from the page Ryder has her tome open to, “that’s not fair and you know it.”

Katherine knocks the tip of her boot into the vampire’s leg — draws a long sigh from him.

“Very well… you’re right. Apologies, Garrus.”

“As long as he’s throwing insults and not his fists like he did in that cage I couldn’ give less of a shit.” As Cal passes Taylor he ruffles the damp blond hair out of place with a silly grin.

“What’s going on…?”

Taylor wanders over; looks over the piles with passing curiosity before he makes his way to scooch in beside Ryder at the back.

“Another one of our dear mystery man’s wild wyvern chases.” comments Garrus with no less salt on his tongue.

“Goose chases.” corrects Krom absently.

“Hm? Oh, well, those too. Equally nasty creatures either way.”

Like always it’s Ivy who takes pity on Taylor’s lack of experience and knowledge. “Taylor, this is Cadence Smith; don’t let the lack of glamour fool you, though, he’s —”

“A vampire,” he nods and gives a small wave; isn’t surprised when it’s ignored in favor of Cadence’s thumbing through the papers for something specific, “I know. We met last night.”

Ivy gives an “ah” in understanding; “Then you got the life story then? Or — well — lack thereof.” And when he shakes his head she claps and giggles with glee. This is obviously a story she adores sharing. “Oh goody. And, pah, he’s too busy to tell it himself. So here’s how it goes. It’s a cloudy night in the summer of 1918…”

“Shouldn’t I be telling it, petal?” Garrus calls, “after all that was decades before your time. I was there.”

“Hush, momma’s regaling.” And it’s all the argument he has since the fae falls silent — returns to slicing lemons with a hum. “Now where was I? Ah — yes — it’s a cloudy night in the summer of 1918.

“Before you ask: yes that 1918. Half the world dead and the other half dying, and a half somewhere in the middle that can’t be bothered to care. This particular scene is set at the temporary wartime hospital Saint Marcellus. †† Pause for laughter —” — she does pause, though no laughter comes — “— well that’s disappointing.

“The beds are full, the bugs are a-buzzin’, and this summer was one of the worst. All those brave soldiers shipped back from the trenches only to deal with an all-too-familiar brand of torture from New Orleans herself. And in the Marcellus you’ve got wings for everything; for lost limbs, for limbs that needed losing, for bullet holes and for internal bleeding and for those who they didn’t really know what was wrong with ‘em, but they had to be shoved somewhere until someone figured it out.

“How did that middle-class education on world history do for you, Taylor,” Ivy dances the tips of her nails on the wooden tabletop, “like, what do you know about shell shock?”

He tries not to glance Cadence’s way — glad that he has a chance to avert his gaze before he gets caught staring.

“It’s what they used to call PTSD, right?”

Nik nods; a curt jerk of the chin. He’s definitely heard this story before but there’s a strange and uncharacteristic reverence in his silence.

Especially given how eager he’d been upstairs to get on with the hunt.

“They had a wing for that, too. That was the one the doctors at the Marcellus tried their best to keep empty — bad for morale, you know. And they did a bang-up job with everyone except for Cadence here. First they couldn’t get him to talk; not a sound or a written word to help him out. Then he started talking and they couldn’t get him to shut up.”

A deeper voice cuts her off. “I didn’t have a name nor tags to identify me. I’d been shipped all the way across the Atlantic in civvies for lack of a uniform. The moment the chief medical officer heard my accent he swore up and down every corridor for an hour — trying to find the incompetent fool who mistook a British soldier for an American one.”

Judging by the satisfied look on Ivy’s face she has no problem with Cadence jumping in to give a first-person account. Maybe she even expected it seeing as she goes right back to reading her book like she never said a word. Like she didn’t start it.

Cadence continues without looking up from a fragile folded newspaper. Cradles the old edition of The New York Times with sentimental longing. At his awkward angle Taylor has to stretch his neck in order to barely make out the headline.

ARMISTICE SIGNED, END OF THE WAR!

“I had been admitted as a mute with a severe case of trench foot and an undiagnosable allergy to direct sunlight. The infection they were content to amputate; the rest… attributed quickly to shell shock.

“They kept the curtains drawn and drilled me without end. Anything to get me to remember my name, my regiment, how I’d landed on the wrong side of the pond. Professionals, experts in their fields couldn’t crack me open. I was one angry Corporal away from being sent back to Europe when a London-born nurse lied and said I was her cousin. As far as anyone knew I very well could have been. I certainly didn’t argue.

“In truth she knew what would happen to me back on English soil. They didn’t call it shell shock there, they called it cowardice. She lied her way through missing documents and got me released to her care. She was a kind woman, Meredith LaPointe. Took me in while her own husband was looking at a future without his arms. Had two little ones — barely more than toddlers if I recall.

“Killing her is still my fiercest regret.”

The needle scratches on the proverbial record. Leaves Taylor gaping in shocked silence — aware with a bitter slap of reality to the face that no one will meet his eyes.

But it’s Cal’s first time hearing the story, too. And he’s not so quiet in the face of injustice.

“She saved your skin and you — you killed her? What the fuck?”

Only Cadence doesn’t answer; palms spread flat and wide on the bartop. Taylor swears he can see a small tremble in his broad shoulders.

Katherine speaks in his stead. “He didn’t know what he was.”

“Bullshit.”

“Believe what you will,” Cadence finds his voice back from some dark abyss, “but it’s the truth. A fortnight shut up in that ward and no amount of food they gave me did the trick. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until she was slumped on the floor at my feet.”

The wolf still snarls. “If you say you hurt those kids I swear to Christ…”

“No. I ran.”

“And put the rest of the city in danger.”

“No more than it already was. If I recall correctly your Pack took advantage of the poverty of the time. Something about the hunger of the wolf allowing them to extort rations.”

Cal lets out a primal growl. The wooden bar under his fingers groans — tries desperately not to yield.

It’s the twist and whip of a hand towel that snaps him out of it. Garrus practically flush with anger and glowering between the werewolf and vampire heatedly.

“The past is the past — let it go; both of you — before you,” — to Cade — “deal with another ban and you,” — to Cal — “find yourself out on the curb. Got it?”

They break eye contact but that doesn’t seem to be enough. Not when Garrus slams his palms down with an expectant look.

“I asked you boys a question; I expect an answer.”

“Got it.”

“Understood.”

“Good,” and the most terrifying thing about it is when Garrus resumes cleaning new glasses as though it never happened, “now, continue. You’re gettin’ to the best part.”

There’s a rueful twist to the vampire’s mouth but he continues anyway. “There isn’t much to tell after that. I found my way to the same place many lost souls did at the time; to the Graveyard Shift. Garrus was kind enough to put me up for a short while — gave me better forgeries for an identity and helped organize a meeting and arrangement with de la Rosa and his clan to get me blood when I needed it.

“And I’ve spent every year since working to recover my lost identity.”

There’s definitely a wow in there somewhere but Taylor’s having a hard time finding it. Instead awkwardly points between Cadence and Katherine — who answers his unasked question like she’s used to picking up at the end of story-time.

“He started hiring Nighthunters to help his crusade a few decades ago. The guy before me put up his standby job on the table in a high-stakes card game and I lost.”

“You make it sound like I treat you terribly.” Cadence scoffs. Gets a grin from his mortal companion.

“I just hate being at your beck and call.”

“Well I’ve gotten farther with you than I did the others. So you’re doing something right.”

“No shit. I’m me.”

“Indeed you are.” The looks they share are fond but there’s no mistaking the pain hidden behind the vampire’s useless spectacles.

As someone who has been there — suffered the struggle of self and identity — whether he’s a murderer or not Taylor only feels sympathy for him.

“So what’s this new information then? Something from the what’s-her-name you met with at Persephone?”

Cadence nods. “Isadora, yes. Among other things that turned up following her father’s death she discovered he had some digging done on my identity in secret. On their own they don’t go very far, but coupled with the favor Kathy here called in last month I think I may finally have some names to dig through.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, and also not our concern.” The look Nik gives him is full of reproach. “We can play private identity investigator all we like when we I.D. and gut your would-have-been killer.”

Taylor’s definitely more than a little amused by the ‘we’ aspect of that argument but prior banter tells him to let it go for the moment. It’s not like Ryder’s trying to divert them away from the real reason they’re all there.

Well, all except for Katherine and Cadence. They just seem to need a place to do… whatever it is they’re doing.

Ryder actually pushes back Taylor for a direct look to Ivy. “Did you bring those bestiaries from your collection?”

“I did.” But the revenant turns up her nose at him. Flexes her cheek muscles while her heavy leather platforms thud with her bouncing foot.

“So… can we look at ‘em?”

“You know you’re asking for an awful lot of favors without payment. The protection spell, the invocation tome, and now you want access to my carefully crafted and collected bestiaries — meanwhile I haven’t seen even a hint of a vial of payment from you.”

There’s Ivy’s playful banter and then there’s whatever she’s up to now — her eyes burning with hot pink embers and looking paler than usual; like the milky, glassy eyes of a corpse.

Maybe it’s because of the clothes she wears but sometimes Taylor forgets she’s somewhere between the living and the dead.

No way he’s forgetting now, though.

And he’s very, very content to not get involved in their shady (well, he suspects) dealings. Until Ryder is grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him head-on in Ivy’s direction.

“You’re tellin’ me you’re ready to turn a blind eye to this poor, cute face?” Oh, he’s despicable.

Makes Taylor try to worm his way out from between them; “Don’t get me involved in this!”

“That’s not fair!” Ivy pouts.

“Neither is the death sentence he’s been given.” He tries to grab Taylor’s jaw — dear god he will not be mimed like a puppet — but accepts the hand that bats his away as nope too far. “Is there no room in that heart of yours for his well-being?”

“You know as well as I do that my heart is withered and all shriveled up like a—like a raisin!”

Still her resolve is crumbling every time she’s unable to stop herself from looking Taylor in the eyes. He wants her to fight it solely on principle. But apparently Nik is just as well-versed in the art of weaseling his way out of payments as he is doing the things that get him paid.

She wails — an echoing thing befitting of her undead status — and covers her face with skeletal fingers. “I can’t run a business like this, Ryder! He’s just — just too damn cute!”

If it wasn’t helping him stay alive he’d resent that.

“Gah!” The sweet noise of Nik’s victory. “Get up — move it you fleshballs before I change my mind!”

Ryder tugs Taylor out of the booth with him. Gives Ivy a wide berth as she hauls her own butt out toting a large carpet-bag behind her.

She hauls the tremendous weight of the bag onto the tabletop and undoes several ornate-looking silver clasps. All in a careful order judging by the way she seals one or two back up and comes back to them later.

When she opens the bag there’s nothing Taylor can immediately see — even when he stands on the tips of his toes to look the only thing visible is a gaping, empty blackness.

The only way he can describe it? — He feels like he’s looking six feet under; like her body should be way down at the bottom even though Ivy herself said it burned to sinner’s ash long ago.

Ivy pushes up her sleeves; rubs her hands together like she’s itching for a fight. And like an eldritch hellspawn of Mary Shelley and Mary Poppins she reaches down — way down, like impossibly far down — into the bag to scavenge through contents unknown.

“Impressive, right?” asks Krom from his view still in the booth.

Taylor most certainly agrees. “Very Hogwarts.”

“Ha! Bitch, ask who did it first.” Were Ivy’s hands not otherwise occupied she wound definitely be pointing two thumbs at herself. “I know I packed them in here. I regretted not having them as reference on Carlo’s autopsy.”

The distant shatter of glass draws everyone’s attention — even the unwitting Garrus who steps back and looks for the mishap. Only when he realizes it’s not his fault, instead something fallen in her bag of horrors, the fae huffs in frustration and refuses to give Ivy any more of his attention.

Even though his ears twitch to every echoing sound.

“Fu—finally!” Taylor doesn’t get the time to debate the biological physics of Ivy’s breathlessness when he finds three aged tomes suddenly stacked in unprepared arms; each bigger and in worse shape than the last.

But of course she beams at him with teeth bleached white as bone and all struggles are forgiven. At least until the leather-bound edges reveal their bruises.

One by one Ryder takes the bestiary trilogy and goes about making his own Cadence-adjacent spread on the table. Nudges Krom and his poetry book out of the way to take up whatever space isn’t displaced by the carpet-bag of the void.

“These are great, Iv’. Thanks.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” Makes her point by flicking the round of his ear. They both reach for Taylor at the same time but Ivy gets there first — loops her arm with his and sticks out her tongue (or the closest thing she has; truthfully he’s afraid to ask what exactly it’s supposed to be — because it certainly doesn’t look like a tongue) in childish victory.

“I don’t know where you think you’re goin’ but I need him to identify the big-and-ugly.” Ryder drolls.

“My payment will be in the form of mortal gold,” she pats Taylor’s arm reassuringly, “otherwise known as caffeine. You get to page-flipping and we’ll go on a coffee run for the lot.”

“Actually,” Garrus interrupts, giddy with glee, “I think I may have concocted —”

“Another time sugarplum!” As it is she’s already halfway to the front door.

The look on Ryder’s face is enough for Taylor to know if he really doesn’t want to go he doesn’t have to. That his body guard will, well, guard his body and keep him at the Shift.

But his legs are restless and sunset has always been his favorite time of day. So he’s grateful, but no thanks.

Plus… coffee.

Garrus volunteers an old drink specials chalkboard from the back when it gets obvious they’re going to need more than jotting down theories, ideas, and recollections on napkins. Mostly because he has to keep restocking the napkins.

If Ivy would just let them use little sticky notes on her bestiaries there wouldn’t be a napkin issue. But things snowball as they do and one thing leads to another. Which leads to the right-handed Katherine wrenching the chalk away from the left-handed Ryder to give them a less-smudged list of possible suspects.

THE GRAVEYARD SPECIALS HAPPY HOUR: Possessed Corpse(?) TO not likely—no relatives(friend?) buried in state

THIRSTY THURSDAY COMBO: BUY pursuit began before STL — can’t recall if other being/s present GET 5 6 7(?) holy light arrows = barely a scratch HALF OFF!! AMAZING DEAL!!

Among various scribbled (and crossed out) suggestions both sleuthed and thrown out by the resident experts.

Thankfully Cal and Krom are about as versed in the finer details of the supernatural kingdom as Taylor is; makes him feel better about not really being able to contribute other than rehashing the events of that night for the umpteenth time.

But is it all in vain?

The list keeps going on — Katherine’s resorted to adding her words to the embellished paint border around the board. A fact or prediction will cause them to double-back and cross one theory out but one takes its place not a minute later.

When Cadence’s curiosity was piqued enough for him to offer help, Katherine had mentioned the vampire’s penchant for, how did she put it: “long, boring research projects.”

The fact that he and Ivy seem to be the only ones getting a real hoot out of the never-ending cycle they’ve trapped themselves in probably says it all.

Taylor uncrosses his legs; hops down from his latest attempt at unconventional comfort on the pool table and makes for the door.

“Whoa there — where are you headin’?”

He’s relieved Ryder doesn’t announce it to the whole bar. Up front Cadence tries yet again to explain the difference between a vengeful spirit and a poltergeist to Cal. But the wolf keeps insisting all “spectral ghoulies” are the same.

Hopefully the smile he gives his bodyguard doesn’t make him seem ungrateful.

“I was just gonna get some air.”

He would have the same look of ‘seriously’ that Nik has if their positions were reversed. If he didn’t know what it felt like to feel so damn useless like he does right now.

“You realize all this —” with a wave backwards, “— is for you, right? Everyone puttin’ in their time and knockin’ their heads together; it’s all so you can be safe.”

Way to make him feel like the biggest piece of shit to ever live.

Only this time his thoughts bleed through — his tongue edged like a razor. “Wow, really? I had no fucking clue. Thanks for the update!”

And despite the guilt knotting in his stomach and all the rules on self-sacrifice he’s been unlearning for too damn long Taylor turns on his heel and practically marches out of the Shift.

Of course he immediately feels terrible the moment the air hits his face. Wants to turn around and practically march back in; push himself into the conversation to help as best he can. Even if all he can do is repeat every. single. detail of the attack.

But he’s trying to prove a point. So he doesn’t. He tells that nagging voice in the corner of his thoughts to stop trying to make it out like he’s seeking attention and makes himself comfortable on the curbside.

Or at least… he tries. Are there points for trying when he doesn’t want to be disturbed but can’t seem to shake the weirdest and most flippant bodyguard in the whole city? Well since it’s his point system he decides that yes, yes there are points; a good dozen of them — two if Nik starts lecturing him on the risks everyone inside the Shift is taking on his behalf.

What this point system will lead up to exactly Taylor isn’t sure. But it’ll be something good — like a giant platter of beignets when this is all over.

“Y’know what occurs to me, Rook?” They have to look like street comedians, the pair of them. Nik’s coat is so spread out it might as well look into buying real estate on the sidewalk.

When he doesn’t get an answer Nik tries again — this time nudges his shoulder with more gentle caution than he thought the man was capable of.

“I said, ‘y’know what occurs to me, Rook?’”

“Dunno who you’re talking to — can’t be me. That isn’t my name.”

“All right, listen here wise-ass —”

“No you listen.” Theatrically it was a very bold choice to interrupt but definitely added drama to the scene. Except now he has to follow through on account of Nik actually listening.

So he steels himself — accepts internal defeat at not getting those two dozen points — and gives the hunter something to listen to.

“I get it, okay? I get how important this is and I get how much I need to appreciate a bunch of randoms I’ve known for less than the time it takes for me to finish a pint of ice cream in my freezer all coming together and helping me find out what’s trying to get me. And I do appreciate it; all of it.

“Garrus for putting me up, Krom and Ivy for trying to help me make sense of everything. Cal for sticking by my side and, hell, even Kathy and Cadence for pitching in what they know. And you—Nik—you’re running around this city on empty but that’s not stopped you from doing your job once.

“I see it; everything you guys are doing, and it blows my literal freakin’ mind because I’ve never really been the kind to just let myself be helped. But I don’t know what else to do except sit there and take it because I can’t… I mean I’m…”

He struggles to find the right way to say it; is definitely a little more than irritated because no doubt Nik is enjoying all his bravado suddenly wilting. That is until he catches the strange (but no less obvious) look of open understanding he’s being given.

Yeah that definitely doesn’t help him get his words out any easier.

But Nik doesn’t look ready to interrupt him without hearing what should have been a strong conclusion to his vented frustrations. So…

“I don’t know what to do because I’m useless. At least for this kind of crazy. So I’m not going to apologize for needing some space when I’m not really contributing much to the conversation anyway.”

The street is mostly empty — all signs point to the parties a couple blocks up and over. But Nik actually waits until a small group of couples are well out of earshot before he speaks.

“Get it all out?”

“What?”

“I asked if you got everythin’ out of your system. I’ll shut up if not.”

Taylor rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you were quiet for that long.”

“It was a struggle, I’ll admit,” Nik’s mouth twists into a rueful half-smile, “but I know sometimes you just gotta say your piece. So keep goin’ if you need to.”

After a moment; “No — I think I got it all out. All I can think about, anyway.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re wrong.”

“Great — here we go —”

Nik gives a light backhand to Taylor’s arm. “I let you go, now can I get a turn?”

“Not if you’re just going to lecture me.”

“How would you know what I’m gonna say? Y’ain’t lettin’ me say it.”

And he only frowns because Nik makes a fair point. Begrudgingly settles himself in and avoids eye contact for what little dignity he has left to be spared a verbal lashing.

“I won’t sit here and argue every little point, ‘kay? Frankly we just don’t got that kinda time. Hell — I won’t even try and tell ya all the thoughts I have on that ‘useless’ comment. And trust me; I’ve got a fair few.

“‘Cause that’s how you feel, Rook. No amount a’nothin’ will change that. Not until somethin’ happens that changes your mind for yourself. But if you sit out here kickin’ pebbles and feelin’ bad for yourself what’re the chances of that one thing happenin’ anyway? Slim to none, if you ask me.”

“I don’t think I did ask you.”

“Roo—Taylor,” he turns them face to face this time; no longer content with avoidance, “I’m trying to help here. To give you space, tell you that yeah — all this shit is crazy and it’s easy for people like us to feel like we don’t got a seat at the table. But if you won’t even listen to what I’ve gotta say then I ain’t gonna waste my breath.”

Okay, bad idea. Because he feels bad enough but seeing the exhaustion wrinkled in the hunter’s forehead, the developing dark circles under his eyes? Nik’s not kidding — he’s one petulant quip away from straight up leaving Taylor alone.

Isn’t that what he wanted, though? At least when he came out here it had been. Now he’s not so sure.

But something Nik said isn’t sitting right. “‘People like us?’” he repeats, “that’s not… we’re not…” Nik knows so many things. Knows the spells and the weapons and who to avoid and who to cross. They may both be human but that’s like saying Krom and Ivy are first cousins.

Nik though, like the damn mind reader he is, shakes his head.

“Every Nighthunter was innocent once. Me, Kathy — there’s about as many ways to get into the life as there are ways to stay outta it but don’t think just ‘cause I know what I’m talkin’ about now that I always did.”

There’s a tug on Nik’s coat; makes him whip around and give the sleek black shoe and the suited man wearing it the bird and a snarl. “Watch it buddy.”

The man says nothing and enters the Shift. But Nik seems content to pick a fight another time and lets him go.

Looks back to Taylor in that same uncomfortably honest way that makes the butterflies in his stomach start to twist themselves into knots.

“Y’know what occurs to me, Rook?” he repeats his question again, now and after all this. Taylor isn’t even remotely surprised. This time he’s a little more receptive to it. Maybe Nik was onto something about speaking his piece.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t groan to show his reluctance before answering; “What occurs to you, Nik?”

This victory smile is small and short-lived but no less important.

“It occurs to me that I don’t know much about you.”

“Seriously?”

His protest goes ignored. “So how ‘bout after we narrow down the usual suspects we change that? Get Gar’ to fry up some onion rings or summin’ and take the rest of the night to make sure that protection charm holds good and tight?”

Well that was unexpected.

“Are you…?”

“What?”

“I mean, I just — it sounded like…”

“Words, Taylor; they’re for more’n just startin’ sentences.”

Are you asking me on a date, Nik Ryder? He wants to ask; he’s even ready to play it off as a joke. But given how things have gone the last few minutes, nay hours, he just brushes it off with a laugh and; “Are you trying to permanently distract me with the promise of onion rings?”

Together they stand — already Taylor’s trying to think of ways to explain or lie his way through whatever questions everyone inside will ask about his blustery exit. Then Nik is grabbing him by the arms and coaxing him off the curb. Keeping him from being trampled by three more suited men heading inside the bar.

“Is Garrus throwing a special we didn’t know about?” he laughs; means it as a joke.

But the way the Nighthunter’s brow furrows isn’t joking. Not at all.

“What,” it takes Taylor a second to realize Nik’s glower is over his shoulder at the door, “what’s up?”

“Here’s a lesson for you —” —Nik’s gravelly voice is suddenly so low he has to lean in just to hear him— “— somethin’ to remember about this world we’re in. ‘Cause there’s weird, and there’s weird-weird. Shit that don’t even make sense in a bar full’a creatures.

“And four suits comin’ to Garrus’ at this time’a day — ‘specially when every coven, clan, and pack is celebratin’ Mardi Gras — is weird-weird.”

But they aren’t going to not go back inside. Even as ‘useless’ and mortal as he is Taylor knows that. And doesn’t resist when Nik gives him a light pull back and behind him.

“You stay behind me, got it?”

“No arguments here.”

“For once.” It’s a reply on some sort of instinct — doesn’t develop into their usual bickering half for the situation and half for the fact that Nik doesn’t waste any time yanking open the Shift door as a man on a mission.

They pass through the threshold and into an invisible fog of tension.

Nik’s right; though they arrived separately the suits are together and — a little more than that — two of them have handguns aimed forward. It doesn’t take supernatural senses to know they have every intent to use them.

“Maybe I wasn’t speaking loudly enough,” says Garrus — who looks more flustered and angry than Taylor thought the fae had in him, “but you. are. not. welcome. here. So leave before this gets ugly. The next time I have to say it, it won’t be a suggestion.”

“Everything all right here, Garrus?” Nik calls. Makes one of the armed men turn for a fraction of a second before he focuses back on the group ahead.

Only it occurs to Taylor how weird-weird it is that they don’t bother turning around — or didn’t bother locking the door behind them for that matter — when confronted with new arrivals.

Means, perhaps, that whatever they’re facing at the front is too dangerous to even consider looking away.

Judging by the way Cadence stands — one arm thrown out as a barrier to Katherine, upper lip twitching in a flicker of a snarl, eyes the same burning red as they had been while fighting the Minotaur — yeah; that’s the case for certain.

Garrus scoffs his answer. “Besides the fact that these imbeciles apparently need a refresher on the definition of a sanctuary, just peachy!”

“We’ll be happy to leave once we’ve got who we came for.” barks one of the suited men. “And not a moment before.”

“You idiots,” Ivy sneers, “you won’t even be able to fire those things in here without the wards handing you your asses on a platter.”

“It’s not the act, but the threat behind it.”

Cadence steps forward. Like a dance one of the men goes to step back on instinct until his partner holds him fast. The vampire sweeps his ruby gaze across the line they form. “Am I wrong? Your boss wouldn’t send you in here without warning you about the wards first.”

“Enough yakkin’. You either come with us willingly or as a body in a bag. Your choice, Smith.”

“If you’re going to act like you don’t have ears…” Even Taylor can’t suppress a shudder at the warped, demonic lilt to Ivy’s threat. The hunger in her fiery eyes.

But Krom holds her back — the only one who looks like bullets would bounce right off of him but also the most fearful of the lot. “Ivy don’t, please…” he whispers.

“Care to catch a guy up?” Nik tries again. Katherine leers at him over the black-suited shoulders.

“They’re here for Cade, dumbass. Three guesses who they work for.”

Nik nods, something unspoken passing in the undercurrent of her response. He gives a few jaunty steps and even tempts fate so far as to pat one of the armed man on the shoulder. Brings Taylor around with a hand on his wrist only to push him out of harms way to the corner of the bar.

“Well you gotta admire their work ethic.”

“Do we, though?”

“Yeah!” He sizes up the goons — steps back with a challenge in his arms spread wide. “More so when you think a’those wards Garrus mentioned. D’you know what happens to firearms, Gar’? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

Garrus practically growls. “It’s not pretty.”

A ripple of unease starts to break the would-be kidnappers’ bravado. Fingers flex on triggers. A bead of sweat trickles down and stings in one’s eyes.

“If Lady Smoke wants to speak to me she can come herself,” snarls the vampire, “since she obviously knows how to find me.”

“Not just you.”

It’s an empty threat in the safety of the Shift’s wards but the damage is done; makes Cadence rush forward with an open fist ready to catch the speaker at his throat.

“Cade — no —!” Garrus calls too late.

A bright flash of light momentarily blinds them — but even as Taylor goes to shield his eyes he watches an invisible force of incredible strength send Cadence flying backwards and into the bar. The wood is solid, refuses to yield, and he sinks down onto the floor just as Katherine rushes to help him stand.

Apparently the wards aren’t just against goons — but anyone ready to cause harm.

The henchman rubs his throat, probably near wetting himself at the knowledge of how close he came to the same end as the Minotaur, and has the gall to manage a half-grin. “Well that’s handy.”

“What the fuck does Smoke want?” Kathy shouts through gritted teeth.

“What she’s owed.”

“She isn’t owed shit!”

Cadence rubs the back of his head with a groan. “I gave up what she owed me.”

“You don’t offer up a nickel and take the whole damn safe. Not in this town. Not when it comes to Lady Smoke.”

Katherine looks ready to test the boundaries of the wards; at the very least with her words. But Cadence’s hand on her arm as she helps him stand holds her back.

“Fine, I’ll go —”

“Like hell you wi —”

“If only to right this fucking business of favors and what’s owed.” The look Cade gives her isn’t one to be argued with. Not that it’s stopped her before. But even from across the room Taylor feels the same unease that he had back watching the vampire in the cage.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rather than outright refusing Nik plays his cards a little closer to his chest. Gives Cade a stern look that promises help if he needs it — which might be very soon judging how things have escalated so far.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it anyway.”

“Smart choice.” With a gesture from the same shiny-shoe asshole who stepped on Nik’s coat the guns get tucked away. Whether they can be seen or not it doesn’t change the fear they bring. “Get a move on. Lady Smoke doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Cadence scoffs. “She may have power over many things but not even Tonya Reimonenq can control the sun and moon. She can wait until it’s safe for me to leave.”

Compelled by the lurch in his stomach Taylor flies forward; bolts around the table as if fucking compelled and pushes Ryder aside to grasp for the vampire’s arm.

“What did you say?”

Cadence looks like he’d forgotten Taylor even existed. “What? Let go.”

“That name — say it again.”

“Rook?” He feels Ryder’s concerned touch but couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Say it again.”

But confusion aside, Cadence does; “Tonya Reimonenq — Lady Smoke.”

What are the damn odds?

†incantation full translation (taken from google translate): "We cast aside our place as mortal servants to a higher power. Where we seek sanctuary none has been given. Thus we take it upon ourselves to invoke powers who have gone blind to our plight. We demand their protection. We demand their sight. You will ward away this evil and its sorrows. Protect this skin from foul touch, this blood from ill intent, this mind from wicked ways. Do so until the deed is done and evil has met an end."

††Saint Marcellus: Marcellus is a name derived from Mars, the Roman god of war. Ivy finds it funny that a hospital was named after violence. (Saint Marcellus is/was not a real hospital.)

#nightbound #playchoices #choices fanfiction #nik ryder #nik ryder x mc #cal lowell #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #ivy #krom #garrus #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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