Chapter 42 - Long Enough

  For all his provocative teasing and flirtatious banter, Uril’raya holds himself to a high standard. A standard that even Gravitas’s ‘job’ for him won’t bend. He had approached Alex and company after being tipped off by one of the informants that Gravitas ordered to watch for them. If he’d neglected to act on the information, the Apex succubus would have made him regret it, Deal or not. Thankfully his gamble with tipping them off by knowing their names had worked. They had reacted defensively, just as he’d hoped. It gave him the plausible excuse for divulging that he works for the succubus without just blurting it out, which again, Gravitas would have made him regret. After those details were exposed, Uril had been able to relax into his more normal behavior. And he has to admit, he’s glad to have come across Alex.

  The guy might be a little fumbling and awkward when it comes to flirting and teasing, but his earnest nature has an appeal all its own. Alex isn’t bad looking either, if a bit plain. But that’s to be expected from a Faded soul without having gained any thresholds to help shape their form. Though, the detail that really had Uril’s attention was the eyes. Alex’s eyes have a spark to them, a hungry intelligence that does more than just look at things, it examines. He gets the impression that Alex is the type that isn’t satisfied until he understands things. Which makes it all the more intriguing that one of the things he doesn’t understand is himself.

  He hadn’t intended to bring Alex home with him. All he’d wanted to do was make contact and test the waters to see what the person who caught Gravitas’s attention was like. But now that he’s got Alex, Hara the stone hellhound, and even the damn Carrion Lord of all people, in his apartment. And weirdly, it feels like the right call.

  A sudden startle from Alex breaks Uril out of his contemplations. “Shit, I’ve gotta get some rest. I start my job in the morning.” Alex says, then sheepishly looks at Uril, withdrawing his hand from where it rests on the goat’s with a bit of reluctance. Uril smirks and nods, lowering his hand from Alex’s arm too. The moment of connection had been nice, sincere. And it lacked the taint of transactional cause.

  “Well, make yourselves comfortable, I’ve got a couple blankets I’ll bring out for you.” Uril says, pushing up to stand. “Be right back.” He moves through the curtained doorway into the next room again, returning with a neatly folded stack of blankets. “Here ya go.”

  Taking the stack, Alex uses one to cover Hara, who’d already fallen asleep while he and Uril had been talking. Corvus takes another, simply spreading it over his lap where he sits in that meditative pose, implacable as ever. Uril turns out the lights, then retreats to his bedroom, leaving the three to rest.

  Alex’s eyes linger on where the curtains flutter back into place after Uril makes his exit. Even knowing he needs to ensure he makes it back to Zephyr Courier Services on time, he wishes that the moment could have lasted a little longer. Uril’s tender touch had ignited a longing that Alex is unprepared for. The blanket he wraps around his shoulders as he sits back on the cushions is a poor substitute. And as he lays back to get comfortable in the dimness, he knows sleep won’t be coming soon.

  Uril sits on the edge of his bed, his mind replaying the same thoughts that were interrupted just minutes ago. A slow smile spreads across his lips, and he decides that he’ll see how this plays out. For someone whose stock and trade is pleasure and sensuality, the genuine connection is worth more than any pile of coins.

  As one beds down restlessly, mind swarmed with curiosities, confusion and questions, the other drifts off with a sense of contentment rarely felt. Corvus had remained mostly silent after his initial assessment of Uril back on the street. Observing how the incubus interacts with his charge over the course of the evening, Corvus has to reassess. Uril’raya had smoothly navigated the initial meeting with a cunning flare, offered the right assurances and explanations, and met suspicion with frank honesty. He’s shown nothing but gracious hospitality, and even a genuine warmth for Alex’s curious nature. The ancient Apex acknowledges that Uril’raya’s involvement will be good for Alex’s continued growth, even with the risk of Gravitas’s influence.

  Even as interested in Alex’s continued growth as Corvus is, The Carrion Lord’s attention is only partially focused through the splinter. His true-self closes in on far more pressing events. Moving with all the speed he’s capable of, Corvus is just now reaching the edges of the verdant cavern where he’d met with The Cultivator through his splinter days before. And what he finds proves the worst of his predictions true.

  Waves of power radiate from the gathering of Hell’s Apex, each tinged with the intent and will of their source. Some are awash with greed, hungrily waiting to see if The Cultivator’s experiment succeeds so they might replicate the feat. Others carry the tremulations of fear, afraid of what such a development would mean for their standing and plans. But the most prevalent expression suffusing the riot of emanations is raw anger, bordering on rage.

  Approaching the jungle-laden cavern from a vertical passage, Corvus descends gradually. Having rushed through dozens of territories each hour, he sees no need to make such haste on the last stretch. Instead, he spreads his senses, sorting through the flood of energies coursing through the surroundings. Every Apex that made the journey is known to Corvus. And each eddy in the currents of power carries their signatures like fingerprints.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Some in attendance he regards as friends, others are mere acquaintances, but too many he recognizes as rivals or enemies. Over the ages since their last conflict, it appears the balance of forces have shifted in no insignificant manner. If open conflict is inevitable, it won’t be a fight. It will be a route. It all depends on The Cultivator, and if he’s able to break through with his attempts to merge the three Titles into one ascendant mark. Should he falter even once, the rest of the Apex will rend him asunder. And they’ll continue to do so each time he revives, until he surrenders his Animus and fades. Even if such an outcome would require constant attention for an era or two.

  The saving grace for The Cultivator, and for those who may yet seek a peaceful resolution, is the same condition that makes any Apex dangerous. Time. Even a ‘young’ Apex will have amassed their wealth of Animus and power over long centuries, ages. For all the haste to arrive here, it is unlikely that any among them will act. Unless provoked. And Corvus’s presence tends to dampen the more rash impulses some tend towards.

  As Corvus enters the cavern where The Cultivator’s citadel floats, another Apex rises towards him. He’d expected Gravitas, Regent, or even Scribe, but instead he’s greeted by one that he’d never met face to face before. Halting his descent, Corvus spreads his wings wide and waits for the approaching figure to reach him.

  “Corvus, The Guide. We had been anticipating your arrival.” The telepathic voice reaches Corvus well before the other is within speaking range. “Our messengers had reported your departure from the tower prior to these troubling events.” The words are spoken cordially, but the implied accusation causes them to ring hollow.

  “As subtle as ever, I see. You intend to add these events to our list of conflicts, Mercurial Ascent?” Corvus responds with a cool tone, unperturbed. “To answer your rather crudely alluded question, I had no direct hand in this. But I will admit to The Cultivator seeking my guidance. I had not anticipated him acting on it so soon, however.” He says, making a placating gesture with his hands. “I would have liked our first official meeting to have been somewhat more neutral.”

  Mercurial Ascent arrives a few yards away from Corvus, the distance more for politeness sake rather than safety. If either were to make an attack in earnest, even being on opposite sides of the territory would offer no more protection than being in arms-reach. Unlike Corvus, Mercurial Ascent is a mortal soul, but an Apex none-the-less. He maintains a well manicured appearance as a human male, but with platinum-blond hair and silvery eyes.

  “Contrary to what you may believe, Carrion Lord, I think we may be allied on this venture.” The man says, smiling in a way that holds no warmth.

  Corvus shakes his head. “As always, I will remain neutral should this become a full conflict. Taking an active hand in shaping the outcome is not my nature.”

  The crow’s answer seems to settle something in Mercurial Ascent’s mind. “So be it. I know your distaste for me, and you know my disdain for your methods. But I do agree on one facet, I too wish we could have met face to face at a better time.” He shrugs and starts to descend into the verdant chamber again. “We can go back to sniping at each other another time, for now, let’s see what excitement comes of this.”

  As Mercurial Ascent returns below, he broadcasts telepathically to every mind present. “Corvus is here, as most of you doubtless noticed. He claims he has no hand in it, aside from offering guidance to our ‘friend’. I believe him, for what it’s worth.” He looks back over his shoulder, smirking at the crow. He’s about to add more, make some jibe at Corvus, when the floating citadel, Burden of Intent, explodes.

  The splinter of Corvus twitches, having suddenly been cut off from the awareness of the prime. The connection is still there, or the splinter would have dissipated. But a heavy interference blocks anything from crossing between the aspects of himself. Corvus isn’t worried though, such disruptions had happened in the past, and his memory will fill in whenever the link between forms stabilizes again. For now, it means the splinter can solely focus on the matters at hand in New Europa. Prime Corvus can handle things with the other Apex.

  Corvus looks around the apartment, watching as Alex and Hara sleep. A benefit of higher thresholds, Corvus doesn’t need to sleep. Simply being able to relax and rest serves the purpose perfectly. As such, he’s aware when Alex stirs.

  Alex sits up, groggy and restless. A moment of internal focus tells him that he’d been laying down for about four hours. Which is just about all the time he’d get. Reluctantly standing, he takes the time to fold the borrowed blanket and lays it atop the cushion he’d slept on. A few stumbling steps take him into the kitchen area where he moves to the sink. His hands intuitively know to reach for the knobs, twisting the one with a touch of red coloring. He’s rewarded with a pleasantly warm stream of clear water, his foggy mind on autopilot. He splashes the steaming water on his face and uses it to smooth out his ruffled hair.

  Feeling a touch more refreshed, Alex notices Corvus watching him and gives a quiet nod of acknowledgement. He walks back into the common-room and leans down, gently shaking Hara to wake her. Or he tries to at least. Even leaning his weight into it, he can’t do so much as rock her form. In her sleep, Hara might as well have been a boulder that breathes. With shaking her proving futile, Alex tries patting her head, which causes her to start to stir. He pulls the blanket off of her, and then accepts the one from Corvus as the crow hands it to him. He folds them all neatly.

  He pauses, looking towards where the door into the other parts of Uril’s home is covered by one of the drapes. “I wish I could stay long enough to thank him.” Alex whispers, the look in his eyes betraying that there was more than thanks in his feelings. “But I’ve gotta be at the Courrier’s before the morning bell.” Corvus simply nods and Hara lets out a long, groaning yawn before shaking herself awake.

  Then before Alex can get himself into trouble by lingering, he moves to the door with his companions and slips out into the hall. A quick check once outside confirms that the door is locked behind them, and Alex starts to make his way down the stairs and out into the still dark morning.