 
The Vaticinator ©

Namita Singh

Copyright 2014 by Namita Singh

Published at Smashwords
Introduction:

Ever faced a situation, where you realize that you're not the main protagonist in your own life? It may not be as astonishing as the fact that I have the ability to metamorphose into an animal, or the fact that I know very less about the history of my species, thanks to my shady parents. It's even less appalling than learning that most of the members of my species are hell bent at snatching one of the most important things in my life, which ironically has become important to me in just a matter of days. And it is certainly bound to be less depressing than knowing that my ancestor's enemy is ready to exceed to great lengths to eliminate my family from the face of the earth.

And, of course, let's not forget that it is less surprising than the fact that my life partner has been discovered to be a guy, the same gender as I.

But still, nothing compares to the shock that I face, when I learn that anything significant occurring in my life is not centered around me at all.

Hi, I am Josh Lichinsky and this is not my story.
Prologue

The herd of therians stood in a circle, bordering the commotion occurring in the center. They watched with judgmental eyes at the one who betrayed their tribe; and watched with much more the amount of fear, the Occultist that towered over the convict.

The Occultist looked down at the lone therian lying on her feet. She appeared apathetic, unaffected as she monotonously declared the dooming fate of the unfortunate therian. The therian named Jermaine was the one that lay on the ground, bound flat to the frozen ground by the invisible force of the Occultist's magic. He was probably on his death row and yet couldn't help but feel amused despite his predicament. Amused, that even after eons of years, the occultist towering over him looked as ugly as she had probably to his grandfather. Their grotesque appearance and unnatural abilities had often made people address them loosely as 'witches'. But the term was usually regarded as something evil, and hence, no one spoke the term openly. But when someone looks as ugly as the Occultist that stood forth them, people couldn't help but find 'witch' an appropriate term for such an abomination. The witch was crone looking, a beldam; probably a follower of Wicca, but the witnessing people wouldn't know as the witches never revealed their theological beliefs, neither anyone was brave enough to confront them for it. They simply relied on the knowledge passed on by their ancestors which spoke of the witches to be the follower of the Triple Goddess. Despite the centuries of advancement, the coven of the thirteen old witches withal followed the yearlong traditions of the occults in the world.

That is precisely what amused Jermaine. With the boredom of immortality, one would expect them to at least dress up so to appear presentable. But no, the witch standing at an impressive eminent height in front of Jermaine felt no need to look even remotely idyllic. She was most probably counting on her atrocious, monstrous appearance to leave an impact even on the dying. Or maybe she was just a bit theatrical. In all due aspects, she resembled a wraith. Most people strongly believed that the witches were the source of rumors regarding wraiths amongst the nescient humans, since the real ones were not visible to the naked eyes.

But the witches were coherently visible to pure humans and therians alike. They represented a form which could be easily mistaken for a phantom by the ignorant humans.

The Ninth of those thirteen of the coven stood proudly amidst the trees that had built on the never ending permafrost. Her scarce, thin, ivory hair bellowed in the wreathing air. Her face, as white as her hair, lifeless and adorning several wrinkles, one even forming a jowl on her skinny face, was fixed in a permanent stupor; incapable of expression. Her gangly, bony arms ended into long, chipped, filled with dirt nails. The said nails scraped against her grayish incantation-woven rag that she wore. Most of the people, who stood at least ten feet away in a loose circle from the witch and the unfortunate therian at her feet, settled on keeping their eyes at the one on the ground. On the therian, Jermaine. The one who was one of them. The one who betrayed them. And it wasn't only the disloyalty of Jermaine that made people fix their stare at him. It was also the ugliness of the occultist, the blistering ulcers which seemed to be boiling and popping on her right cheek, which persuaded most of the attendants to sever their gazes towards Jermaine.

Jermaine was not anxious, or he hid his anxiety perfectly. With his body bound, only his neck could move around and take in the number of therians surrounding him. Those therians were once his friends, his comrades. Now the eyes of those same friends were filled with judgment enough to fill you with shame, irrespective of your innocence.

Jermaine returned his eyes to the witch who was declaring his fate in a cackling, wretched voice.

"-till this date. You shall be sanctioned!" The cackling voice ended.

Jermaine once again looked around him, wishing to come upon the faces he wished to see for last. But his wife, brother and son had been banished by the leader of their cult immediately after learning of Jermaine's treachery. Exiled towards the land of the flames. His heart ached for what his family was forced to undergo, all because no one was ready to listen to his sorry tale. No one was ready to listen to his innocence; not even the all-wiser leader of their tribe.

Everyone around looked down at him with disappointment and belligerence. Yet, not one of them would hear his tale were he to propose so. Years of brotherhood drained down the sewage because of his one mistake. A mistake, that wasn't even his own to make. Hitherto, Jermaine continued to scout his 'friends', lastly resting his eyes upon the mighty leader of the therians of this realm, Mikhail.

Mikhail Lichinsky was also eyeing the traitor, but stoically. He had caught Jermaine red handed in the act of stealing the holy scimitar, the very same one that Mikhail now hoisted at his back. As a leader and the owner of the sword, it was his responsibility to keep the weapon safe. In wrong hands, the weapon could produce disastrous results. Mikhail had never dreamt of those wrong hands being amongst his friends. His duty called and he had no choice whatsoever than to take the necessary steps, the conclusion of which was summoning the Ninth occultist of Wicca, the one that forged the law of their realm.

"Part of your soul will be mine to wield." The shrill voice announced further to Jermaine.

A few who were paying enough attention to the words, gasped. Mikhail remained apathetic, even though he fully understood the meaning behind those words of the Occultist. As much powerful the witches were, that much cunning they seemed to be. A deal for a deal being their usual mantra. The sprouts of the occult never favored the witches, but their power made them the ruler; the high mighty to be called upon in direful situations. For the rulers of humans, the one who had driven the witches away once, were not enough accepting of the therians. The witches were usually fair, despite their wicked ingenuity. Therefore, they were accepted by the people. For not taking the whole of Jermaine's soul to condemn it to damnation invariably meant that the Ninth occultist sought something in return. But what could the therians offer to this occultist so the traitor is damned? Was there anything a powerful, immortal witch would want?

"-For you to live in imprisonment as my sycophant." The Ninth witch declared.

For a moment, Jermaine felt bewildered, for he would never want any of his 'friends' suffering due to his actions. But looking up at the caustic, stoic face of his executioner, he realized that she was indicating at him. She meant to take only Jermaine as her personal lackey. And knowing what horrific future would entail, Jermaine felt appalled, dismayed and horror-stricken, all at once. No. No one would want a future as a half resurrected soul, a real wraith by all means, forever trapped in a haze of hunger, numbness and anger. He'd prefer death over that. Panicky, Jermaine looked around, hoping to encounter a single sympathetic face. But all were shocked, yet resolutely confident and pleased at the castigation. Jermaine looked up at the Ninth and saw her looking at him with a flicker in her eyes. Incapable of expressing emotion, yet Jermaine could sense the excitement in the eyes of the Ninth. And he knew.

He knew that he had been framed, for stealing the scimitar was never his conscious intention. He knew that he was wielded against his own will. He knew that the Ninth occultist was aware that he was not at complete fault. And that single knowledge filled him with dread when he pondered, for a brief moment, what could the occultist want.

But more than anything, he was filled with rage.

If only his friends had been patient, he wouldn't have been standing on his death row. A death where he neither belonged to the dead, nor he would be a part of the living. He cursed in distress on learning that his family, if they survived their expatriation, would be devastated. That his young son wouldn't have his father's hand on his head on anymore. That his beautiful wife would have a living dead for a husband. That he may never be able to feel again, except for merciless wrath, hatred and insatiable hunger, just like the thirteen witches.

His rage made him forget the cunningness of the Ninth Occultist. Right this moment, he only had vacancy for ruthless anger in his heart. It did not matter that the Occultist had higher intentions. It did not matter that she was probably the one who made him steal the scimitar. And it did not matter, that one day, this same occultist would work to grasp as much power as she craves through him. For Jermaine knew that was what the occultist wanted. With no vaticinator, the scimitar was the second most esteemed object of their world. But, no, Jermaine refused to ponder over all of those things.

Looking back at Mikhail, the one who had caught him, the one who could have been patient enough to listen to his unfortunate tale, the one who banished his family and summoned the Ninth Occultist of their realm without even considering the fact that they were friends, Jermaine was filled with such rage that his teeth barred in a sneer while looking at a still apathetic Mikhail.

Mikhail stared back. The scimitar safe on his back. His duty fulfilled. Yet, a sense of dread filled him as he watched Jermaine glower at him. His eyes expressing the grief of their failed friendship and revenge.

  1. My Uncomplicated Life

Curiosity is a very peculiar thing. It may bespeak the underlying intelligence which has contributed to the vast development of our modern society over the ages. If one will not be curious, then how may he feel the encouragement to indulge in an activity? An activity that may cause progression. We live in a world that is constantly changing, constantly developing towards betterment. Curiosity is an expedient that lets us remain in the forward motion.

On the other hand, curiosity can also kill the cat. Plunging into the unknown, especially the kind which holds a danger signal, will be...well, unhealthy. Like in a horror movie, when the protagonist walks towards the danger, just to sate her curiosity. The end is never good as we all know.

Or curiosity can be neither of those. It may simply be...simple. The plain curiosity, like for an exemplar, a person curious to know why, and also how, the cat, which is being saved by the fire extinguisher workers, climbed the tree in the first place. 'Snooping into vague businesses, which is not yours to begin with' curiosity; the harmless curiosity, in my words. 'Dumb' curiosity, as my mother says. 'Useless', in my father's opinion.

Unfortunate for them, I happen to be the oddity who is always curious about such most irrelevant things.

Irrelevant for my family, mind you. For me, it's as much important to sate my curiosity as the bathing ritual every day. My mother tends to find my inquisitiveness adorable. So adorable, that she simply pinches my cheek, coos at me while laughing softly, her pearly white teeth contrasting vividly against her usually bright red lip shade, blinding me for several moments.Andthen she departs with her wheat blonde hair dancing in curls as her plump figure elegantly walks away. Without answering my 'curious' question. Even now, when I am not a kid anymore, and tower almost a foot over her height, she still manages to act in this similar fashion every time. It's like the locution, a child forever remains a child for his mother.

My aunt, Rufina Jedi, is far tamer when it comes to such reactions. She is probably the only person who doesn't treat me like a child, but like an adult. Like her equal. But even that prestige doesn't grant me the answers all the time. Her manner of declining an answer is far more convincing than that of my parents. Wisely, Rufina aunt will simply advise to not be this curious. Ignorance is bliss, she says. What you do not know can't hurt you, right?

Since the last three years I have been trying to pursue Rufina aunt's ideology. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail miserably. I have been inclining towards the latter quite a lot, but hey, give me credit for at least trying. And it's not like I sit back and let myself dwindle under the burden of my failed attempts. I take care to always quetch myself for being interested in useless subjects and cavalierly nose-diving into the unknown. I may not always fail...unlike right now. But I do feel severe compunction upon my failures, just like right now. Swallowing the view in front of me, I question myself, why did I get enough curious by the voices and turn into this corridor? More so, why couldn't I just be an ignorant bullhead and continue along my original path towards the outside of the school premises?

I am a curious kid, that's why.

"Hey!" I snap at the huddled crowd.

Everybody turn their necks, as if jolted by an invisible spring, to see me approaching. For a moment, I let myself bask in the attention. And then I regret attracting the attention at all. I have never particularly felt the desire to be in the center. Not because I am socially awkward. In fact, I am fairly amiable, having a very large circle of friends. But undivided attention from an audience is never welcomed, even when I plan to execute something good. Fame can change the way people look at you, and more importantly, make people look at you more. I am different enough, and even though my digression from normal people is a positive attribute of mine, still, divulging how different I am has never been on the top of my priority list. I do not like attention and I certainly do not like people knowing about me, more than is absolutely necessary. It's bizarre when I notice people having a completely contrary viewpoint on the subject. Like one of my friends, Ray Jecksen. Though I label him as 'friend' and we hang out with the same people, I have never been particularly close to Ray. Ray being the 'hero' of our school and therefore the attention-attracter, he is invariably someone I tend to avoid. Ray is praised by everyone for his good persona, but I do not know if simply standing like a spectator while someone gets bullied counts as something 'good'.

My eyes dart towards the small kid with huge terrified eyes adored by thick nerdy spectacles, being held by the scruff of his shirt collar by Viktor Lagunov. Viktor is a senior like Ray and I. He apparently believes that being the captain of the taekwondo team entitles him with the right to bully some of the juniors. I have heard of his excursions, though today is probably the first time I am witnessing it. Unlike Ray, Viktor is not my friend, neither my foe. We do happen to share a history of bitter words in the past. Our antagonistic relationship is hardly significant, yet I honor Viktor with the title of my arch nemesis.

"Hey, Josh." Viktor greets me, his lips turning up in a smirk while his hold hardly loosens up on the junior. "Come to join the party?"

"Actually, Viktor, your parties are of the taste of vagrant hippies. I'd rather I take the kid," I indicated at the junior, "and have a party of my own."

"I'll vouch for that." Ray backs me up, probably realizing that getting entertained at the expense of a kid is hardly expected of our chivalrous hero.

The change is instant. As soon as Ray speaks up in my favor, the crowd watching the show realizes that I am supposed to be the good team. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Viktor is now standing in a compromising situation. Viktor darts his eyes from me to Ray, the scowl fixed on his face. I have also heard that Viktor is not a very great fan of Ray, so his distaste may have doubled in this situation.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Viktor snaps at me.

That is a very good question. Something to which I am still looking for an answer. But I don't tell Viktor so.

"I could say the same to you, Lagunov." I snap, a little irritation seeping in my voice. "Leave the kid alone and mind your bloody business."

"Ho hoho!" Viktor laughs mockingly, "Superman to the rescue. Apparently," he looks down at the kid he is holding, "your Lois lane has a bit of a surprise between her legs."

Some daring kids, probably siding with Viktor, laugh. The nerdy kid in Viktor's hold turns beet red at the comment.

I simply grimace. Can he be more childish?

"You are sick." I tell him, which he ignores.

Viktor instead focuses on the kid who looks beyond embarrassed. "Aww, look!" Viktor mocks, "The fag's blushing." He ends up with a sneer.

That is it for my patience. It takes me two steps and helluva brilliant reflexes to reach Viktor in the span of a single second. I do not allow Viktor the time to get surprised. I get a hold of his hand that is grasping the kid. When the strength of my hand jolts his hand off the kid, Viktor gives off a very astonishing yelp. It coincides with the squeals emanated by some of the witnesses. He tries to jerk away his hand but I tighten my hold, pressuring on the side of his wrist bone, to the point of inflicting pain. And that is what exactly happens. Viktor's face, now very much red, contorts when he feels the burning pain in his wrist where I am holding him. Any movement and the pressure of my hand on that particular spot on his wrist would explode in pain again. Yet, I find him giving another feeble attempt at jerking away his hand. Even through the lancinating haze, he manages to express a little surprise at failing to pull his hand back.Well. He is not the captain of the taekwondo team for nothing. He stands at an eminent height, matching my own six feet, two inches. But he is endowed with much larger muscles and hence, presumably, stronger arms. What he doesn't know is that only because I do not indulge in violence, doesn't mean that I am physically weaker. Viktor, and almost everyone, cannot even guess how physically stronger I may be than him.

The kid, now free of Viktor's hold, takes even lesser time in grabbing his bag from the floor and bolting through the first clear area he sees. If possible, it takes even less time than that for him to disappear from our line of sight.

I roll my eyes.You're welcome, kid.

Viktor takes my 'rolling of eyes' to be directed at his feeble attempts of getting away. Decidedly, he raises his other hand to sock me in the face. My reflexes, so much better than his, watch his hand move almost in slow motion towards my face. I grab his other hand with my free hand. Viktor is surprised by my spontaneous defense and judging by the looks of the witnessing people, they are surprised too. I sigh. I despise the attention. Viktor, both the hands of whom are trapped by mine, looks furious. There are some 'ooh's and 'ahh'sas Viktor, in vain, tries to jerk away his hand, his face expressing pain every time he does so. Soon, he realizes that I am stronger than him. Much stronger for it to be impossible to get free of my hold.

"Let go of me, Josh!" he growls.

I flinch at the vociferated voice. I am, in fact, standing right in front of Viktor, with his hands bound in mine. I raise an eyebrow amusedly as Viktor starts to turn even red, flushing furiously and tugging at my arms uselessly like a kid, probably due to drowning in embarrassment. Good. He should know the taste of his own medicine. I anticipate his next move before he even motions for it. Before he can comprehend, I thrust my leg in between his, entwine it against his right shank and tug forcefully. With the surprisal, Viktor stumbles, falling to the ground on his knees with the jarring impact. I move behind him and place my right foot on his right shank at the back, right below the knee. Again, a point where thorough movement will grant him with good amounts of pain. I make sure he will not be able to get up. Some of the boys who are watching start chorusing 'fight, fight!' while the girls express shock at the violence. I bring my hands behind Viktor's head, making his own hands that were held in mine lock behind his neck, right below his skull. He squirms helplessly and I take the moment to nonchalantly look around us.

I am not pleased with the sight.

The crowd has steadily increased in the last minute itself. The raunchy kids are having the time of their life, laughing and chanting encouraging words of fight to the pair of us. Some watch in astonishment, while others watch, impressed. Ray and some of my other not so good friends also stand in the crowd, cheering for me. They also look greatly impressed. Since I have never actually involved myself in any fight, my strength during flight must be coming off as a surprise to most of the people. I sigh again.

"Leave me, you asshole!" Viktor shouts from the floor. Now he is going to resort to abuses, I muse.

"Make me." I say tiredly, still looking around.

"Oh, have some mercy on the helpless, Josh." Duato, Ray's minion of sort, says in jest, grinning at me. The rest join him in mocking Viktor and playfully begging me to leave him.

I grin despite myself.

"The teacher's coming." A smiling face announces from the crowd. I find myself smiling back at Neal. I hadn't notice him until now. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying the show. Why wouldn't he, I smirk.

Neal is a senior too. He is part of the more intellectual elite crowd of our school. He is also the writer of our weekly school newspaper, The Plutocracy. He has also taken upon himself to keep a regular blog for our school. Needless to say, he has a huge following, not only in school, but also on all of the social networking sites. It is helpful in a way, as being part of the student council, it makes for an easier medium for him to display announcements on a short notice.

It also serves as a medium of endless gossip provided to the students of this school.

An incident at school and it is impossible for it to not be mentioned in the paper and the blog. The blog is meant for shortened forms of the incidents occurring in our school. Unlike The Plutocracy, which is published every Monday, the school blog is updated daily, bursting with all the important as well as the vague things related to our school. And it is instantaneously available due to the possession of smartphones by everyone these days. Apart from the important announcements and notices meant for the students, the blog and the paper are always filled with all the juicy gossips of our school, streaming with information that is capable of forming and deteriorating one's image.

It had all started three years back, when Neal had officially proposed the idea of a school newspaper. Most people had voted in favor. Nealhad taken official permission from the principal for the task. The principal obliged, provided no lies are spilled regarding the school announcements and the students.

People do not realize that by voting in favor of it they have put themselves literally in his paw. Neal is probably the only person whose words hold more power than even Ray in this school.

Neal writes all the unfair judgment of the administrative office regarding the exam schedule, cafeteria rules and what not. He also writes the positive alteration that may help with the betterment of the school as whole. With publically defining the changes that can be brought through in the school, he has earned a respectable image and is always immediately supported by the herd of students. His excursions have brought a lot of positive changes in the school, no doubt about that. He deserves all the gratification in return, even if it is in the form of mindless followers.

But Neal also writes very truthful words about the activities of the students in our school. It can be someone acing a subject or our home team winning a match. Or even someone ridiculing innocents in a drunken haze or when someone is humiliatingly beaten in a fight. Someone accidently humps a door, because he is too much of a loser to grab some action at a party and even that is news in our paper. These people have themselves vouched for the paper, knowing what it'd bring. The impeached couldn't stop Neal from writing things like these afterwards because, after all, Neal is only writing the truth. Truth can be very bitter as they say...

So, the people do what is the most intelligent of them to do. That is to try their level best to be the freaking Queens and Kings of high school, so they'd be mentioned in the paper more. Sadly, the newspaper has become the medium for students to enhance their reputations. No wonder the paper is intelligently called by Neal as 'The Plutocracy'. The system created by the prevalent 'trendy' students themselves.

Some kids even stoop low enough to make sure that they always remain in Neal's good books, so nothing bad is ever written about them. Some students try to strike friendship with Neal, hoping to become his best of friends. Some people even try to bribe him for writing good things about them. The good thing is that Neal is intelligent enough. He sees right through people. And though he is an amiable guy, he keeps himself restricted to his selected friends.

That is one thing distinctly different between Ray and Neal. Neal knows of the power he has, just like Ray, but unlike Ray, his power is more tangible with his journalistic ability. Also, Ray welcomes his followers and accordingly acts to maintain his image. Neal works from behind the curtains and doesn't get overwhelmed by the number of people bowing down to him.

I am smiling back at Neal right now, but I severely detest his 'job'. I like Neal as a person, but very much despise his creation, The Plutocracy. My smile falters when I realize that this scene is probably extending more than it is supposed to. It shouldn't be much difficult to understand now why I hate being the center of the attention. I feel Viktor's squirming getting desperate and know that he must be feeling sorely humiliated. He will not like it if this fiasco is mentioned in The Plutocracy.

Being popular in high school, yet not being infamous is seemingly what every teenager's life depends on in school.

"School's over; what's the teacher going to do?" Duato says in reply to Neal, grinning in return.

Neal just shrugs in return, keeping his eyes on me and Victor. As I said, Neal doesn't extend his hospitality to everyone around him.People tend to take advantage of it otherwise.

"We are still in the premises, Dua." Ray says, earning a nod of agreement from the majority. People will agree with him even if he asks them to jump off a cliff; I roll my eyes. Ray is not bad or disliked by me, as may have been wrongly assumed by my thoughts. I just dislike how his simplest of simple sentences are regarded as the verses of a scripture.

Another kid, this one unknown to me, announces the approaching teacher once again. Sighing, I loosen my grip on Viktor. Viktor immediately falls forward and braces himself on his free hands. Stumbling, he stands and turns to look at me. Stupidly, he pushes against my chest in retaliation.

"Bastard!" he snarls at me, stepping up to my face.

I raise one hand and push it against his chest, forbidding him from stepping forward. My arm pushes with more strength than necessary, but still not enough forceful to make Viktor stumble back. But Viktor senses the strength as his forward movement gets restricted. His eyes flicker with doubt, making me mentally sigh once again.

"Let's not get suspended?" I offer him.

He scowls at me, "This is not over." He growls, picking up what is left of his dignity. He jerks back and then passes by me, bumping my shoulder intentionally. The surrounding crowd forms an aisle from which Viktor disappears. Loud mumbling commences with the word 'teacher' being uttered more than once. Not wanting to be caught in the fiasco, students immediately start to disperse away.

"Nice show." Ray smirks, smacking the back of my shoulder.

I simply smirk. I nod to my friends as they jestingly talk. Then I turn away, picking my bag from the floor.I start rummaging inside my bag while walking away. Looking for something inside the bag is only a pretense. I do not want Ray and his 'close buddies' to start walking along me. Again, I do NOT dislike them. They are a part of my friend circle. I sit with them in the classes and the cafeteria, and even hang out with them. But I like to maintain a certain space, which everyone has come to respect, so none of them ever force me to be by their side all the time. Also, they all are attention magnets. Where Ray and his minions go, the crowd inevitably bends in that direction. And I suppose I have grabbed enough attention for one day already.

By the time the teacher; Miss Gills, I notice; enters the corridor along with one of the school guards, I am already exiting it. I look back once and see that the crowd has severely thinned, many having escaped from the other end of the corridor. Suspiring, I turn back and resume my walk. My peripheral vision informs me of a presence walking right beside me. My steps falter out of a little surprise and I turn my head to look at Neal casually walking along with me. Sensing my gaze, Neal lifts his head sideways and grins. It comes off more as a smirk.

"Never thought that I'd see the day." He says, still smirking.

I huff, but feel a smile creeping on. He is definitely talking about my blatant show. Since I always ensure to never be in the limelight, today has been more than a surprise.

"Did I give a good enough show?" I ask sarcastically, grinning.

"You have no idea." His smile widens. Then he tilts his head and looks at me curiously, "I never thought you had it in you, to be honest." He admits.

I hum. He is definitely not the only one who must be thinking so.

"And I believe everyone thought so too." He voices my thought.

"He shouldn't have been bullying the kid." I mutter, sighing.

"There are many things people do that they shouldn't be doing."

Of course. Who would know better than Neal about the wrongdoings of everyone in school? His job description requires him to be acutely sentient of everyone around. I have heard people always wondering in awe, regarding how Neal has knowledge of every person in this school. With the information he spills in The Plutocracy, it's nearly unimaginable for someone to possess that degree of information. Unless he stalks every single person in this school at a personal level. Which is again, unimaginable. But even with the seamless pool of information, I have never seen Neal excessively demeaning anyone in his paper. Sure, he mentions some humiliating things about the students, but they are usually mild. We are teenagers, so everyone tends to take even that 'mild humiliation' as something of a very big deal.

We walk down the corridor, towards the door of our school building. Since the school day has ended, very few students are lingering by.

"So..." Neal drawls out as we reach the doors, "Do you, like, take training or something?"

We pause and I turn to look at him, frowning, "What?"

He shrugs and thrusts his thumb over his shoulders to the inside of our school building, "That didn't seem to occur by luck."

Oh.

I find myself chuckling, "Is this an interview going on?"

He rolls his eyes, "Don't flatter yourself."

I simply raise my eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes again, "Can't I ask a friend about his fighting techniques?" he says, shaking his head, "Not everything coming out of my mouth has to be about my paper."

I lean against the door, assessing him, "Okay." I drawl, "If I tell you, would you take care to not put it in print?"

He gives me deadpanned stare, "Lichinsky, if you're so insecure, you don't have to tell. I can take a rejection." He laughs humorlessly at the end.

Yeah, he probably has never been denied information. Especially if the information could be conducive to a proficient enhancement for the informant. And yet, I know that Neal can take a refusal. Much better than some of the people I know. Neal and I aren't close friends. Only two years back we used to share two of our classes and have since developed a friendly acquaintance. It's not like he can demand things out of me, though I am pretty sure that is not how he gathers information for The Plutocracy.

Sometimes I wonder why Neal maintains a cordial acquaintanceship with me. I am not complaining; he is a good company. But I have never seen him even remotely interacting with anyone in my friend circle, apart from me. For all I know, he despises people in my friend circle. Yet, he is enough friendly with me. We don't make it a point to interact daily, but a wave when in view and a few words once a week is our usual tirade. Yet, Neal hardly ever mentions me in his paper, except when it's along with my soccer team about a sports event. And I believe he appreciates the fact that I have never expected more from him either, even though I have had loads of opportunity to request him so.

"Is it that interesting?" I ask him. Because though we have talked in the past, it has usually been about studies or soccer or weather. Sometimes even vaguer topics. I don't see why he should be interested in my 'fighting abilities' all of a sudden.Provided he is not looking for info for his paper, which he declined.

He shrugs, "You seem to know the pressure points well. The back of the neck..." he rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly looking around, "the junction between the shank and the knee..." he absentmindedly brings his hand to the side of his wrist, "the wrist...You were probably not putting as much strength as it looked like. I was just wondering if you've been taught." He shrugs again.

I take several moments to let that sink in. Then, "How do you know about pressure points in a fight?" I exaggerate the last five words and 'you', making it come out as an accusation. Really, no offence to the guy, but Neal certainly doesn't seem the type who'd even know the F of fighting. He stands merely at five feet, eight inches or so and has always been amongst the studious bunch. The top A level student, the ones who can never even think of indulging in a fight lest scar their perfect resume. He is someone who people would call a 'pretty boy', owing to his lack of display of machismo and still making girls squeal 'cute!' at his sight.The type who do not fight or play sports, but are nerdy, suitable for bench work. I don't know if he even has any muscle on him, as he is always wearing baggy, oversized clothes.

His left eyebrow crawls for his hairline at my condescending tone, "I can't know a bit about combat?"

I take another moment and then straighten myself up. I sigh, "Well...I don't take any sort of fighting classes from anyone. Not in the literal sense." I mumble the last part. He frowns at me, but before he can raise the query I am expecting, I interrupt with one of my own, "Why did you want to know?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, "I was thinking of taking some defense fighting classes...not specifically judo or something," he rolls his eyes, "Just any fighting technique. I thought it'd be better if I had a reference." He rubs the back of his neck again.

"Why?"

"Just like that." He brushes me off.

"No one's bothering you or anything, right?" I ask. We may not be close friends, but that doesn't mean I can't offer help if someone's bothering him.

He raises his eyebrows in amusement, "Who would? Viktor?" he says with sarcasm and laughs. Yeah. Who will be stupid enough to stand against Neal and be bad mouthed publically in the school paper? Neal holds more power than anybody in this school. "Don't worry, man." He continues,"I just want to learn for myself."

"You could join the school's taekwondo team." I suggest.

Neal immediately gives me a dry look and I know he is thinking of Viktor who is the captain of the taekwondo team. He then sighs and shakes his head, "I don't have time for school activities...I already have the burden of The Plutocracy and the council meetings in school. I was looking for something on the weekends..." He sighs again, loudly this time, "Anyway, thanks."

I shrug and then nod at him, "Well, then, I'll see you later."

He nods and turns back to walk away abruptly, "Watch out for the paper." He says, walking away, with his back at me.

"Do not exaggerate!" I yell.

He raises his hand to let me know that he has heard me. I see him disappear towards the parking of our school. I sigh and continue towards the gates of the school grounds. As a lot of time has elapsed since the end of the school day bell, there are hardly any studentsin view. Only one guy comes in my vision, standing at the school gates. He is taller than me, by an inch or so, something he never fails to rub in my face. But he is lankier than me. I watch as he stands awkwardly next to the gates, diligently waiting for me. I deliberately slow down my pace, giving him more time to get ticked off. But even at such a large distance, he senses me and turns his face in my direction. Amazingly, his face is lined with concern instead of irritation. That's my best friend for you.

"Everything's fine." I say when I am ten feet away from him. I am smirking, because I know that was going to be his first question.

Aakir scowls at me, "Really?" he says sarcastically as I reach him, "Everything's dandy since you didn't accidently break a bone or two?"

I raise my eyebrow in surprise, "Were you there?" Or maybe someone informed him about the fight, because he certainly wouldn't have let me go as far with Viktor as I went.

Aakir shakes his head, "I read the blog." he says, his anger, all but gone. Again, that's my best friend for you. Making Aakir absolutely angry is nearly inconceivable.

My eyebrows rise up again, "Neal posted on the blog already?"

"Yeah, ten minutes or so ago."

"He is fast." I say, completely taken aback by Neal's spontaneity. Aakir and I start to walk out, towards the commencement of woods, approximately one mile away or so from the school gates.

"He always is." Aakir says, a little edge to his voice.

I look at my friend to see his weirdly colored eyes brimming with apprehension. Aakir has the most bizarre eyes I have ever seen, not that I have seen much except for the usual blues and blacks in this part of the world. But Aakir's eyes can beat even the most outlandish eye color ever existing on earth. Maybe because his eye is not of a single color. His eyes are a swirl of grey, red and black. His irises are of coal grey with the globs of red and black moving in them. Yes, those globs of colors move around the pupil, as if floating above an endless dead ocean. Everybody in our family, especially Rufina aunt, Aakir's adoptive mother, was sorely worried about the condition of Aakir's eyes during our childhood. Rufina aunt feared that a bleeding might be resulting into the odd outcome. But upon several tests and various sittings with the ophthalmologist, it was acknowledged that Aakir doesn't suffer any sort of eye disability. In fact, his eccentric eyes may be a result of a pigmentation disorder. But even in cases of such disorders, the victim is usually an albino. Aakir is a healthy looking fair guy, with dark curly tresses. He is definitely not an albino. The physician was highly bemused by Aakir's condition and requested to carry on further research so as to know the cause and name this particular disorder. Rufina aunt had politely declined. And now we all are accustomed to his weird eyes. People meeting him for the first time either usually get highly spooked or blatantly awed.

"Still sensing Neal's...weirdness?" I comment offhandedly. In reality, I could care less about what he senses of Neal. The fact that he can 'sense' at all is what has me ticked off.

Aakir's gets my tone and rolls his eyes, "You're not too far long, Josh. Give it a few days and you'll be mature too."

I scoff. Leave it to him to rub it in my face.

"Seriously, Josh?" Aakir continues, "You're being incredibly childish upon the issue. Remember that your dad got mature at nineteen. You're still seventeen."

"So are you, but you've matured." I snap back.

Aakir sighs, "That's not the only thing different about me, is it?" he says tiredly.

I sigh too, realizing that I really am acting childish. Aakir has a lot of disparaging characters. And not one of them is welcomed by him. Though why is that so, I always fail to understand. It's not like his attributes are useless. In fact his abilities surpass the usual abilities of my species.

Of us different people.

Not species.

Damn it.

I thoroughly detest considering myself different than humans. At the end of the day we are different, yet I like to believe myself to be a normal human.

When we reach the edge of the woods, Aakir and I break off into a sprint, steadily increasing our speed till we acquire our fastest speed. It's a fairly cool day for a summer. But then summer in Liepāja is always cool, owing to the Baltic Sea towards the west. The city is built right next to the sea and is sufficiently green. It is probably the only city in Latvia with the perfect balance of the beaches, the forest parks and the core city. It has abundant reserve parks. Even without the government restricted natural flora, Liepāja has plenty of green lush to offer. Our house is situated right in the middle of a forest park which opens at one end to the white sand of the sea, and the main Peter's market on the other end. In between is the extension of moss colored woods and long grass everywhere, at the center of which our house resides.

Perfect for us. Perfect for the therians.

Being Therians, we are innately inclined towards nature, always desiring to be blended along with the fauna and flora surrounding us. Living so deep inside the woods poses only one problem. It gets increasingly difficult when we purchase things for home delivery. People don't like to come right in the center of a forest, even when there is a complete, though narrow, but sufficiently decent road connecting our house to the main opening road to the Peter's market. It is not even a 'forest' in the literal sense. More like a natural park, but denser, with a lot of trees and some harmless animals. Liepāja is not known for dangerous animals, still people are not comfortable to drop down here lest encounter a savage animal.

It's kind of ironic if they are looking for us in the first place. Because as much as I hate it, I can't change the fact that we are in fact animals. Or part animals, at least.

Therians are characterized by their ability to metamorphose back and forth between their human form and any animal form. The new world humans, unaware of the existence of us pure therians, label therianthropy as some sort of a disorder resulting from a psychiatric illness. Some also call it species dysphoria, where one resolutely believes of himself belonging to the wrong species and tends to divert mentally towards a species he is more comfortable with. Those unfortunate therians, declared mentally unstable by the humans, actually fall into the category of Mental Therians. Mental Therians are one of the types of our species that only mentally transform into an animal, physically remaining in human form. Such mental therians resort to growling, instead of talking; savagely destroying, instead of being civil. Some even become cannibalistic; so far they get empowered by their animalistic instincts.

Our Therian ability has been a gift to us, from what I know of our history. But to me it feels like a curse, especially when I think of Rome locked somewhere in the attic of my house. Rome is a mental therian and a part of my family. And I try to not think of him as much as possible.

So, I shake my head to clear myself of the disturbing thoughts and instead concentrate on the earth getting beaten below my feet, the continuous thumping of my bag pack against my back and the blissful silence of the forest that I have so much become familiar with. It doesn't take long for us to reach our house. We are faster on foot. Not ridiculously fast as some Hollywood movies may portray supernatural beings to be.But I take pride in the fact that we are probably faster than the fastest human on this planet. We can easily attain an average speed of thirty-five to forty miles per hour, which is definitely quite fast. I do not think any human has made it past thirty miles per hour. This is one of things I enjoy of our species. Ability to run at such high speed. I had expressed my desire to my father one day at the age of eleven, to participate in the Olympics and be famous for being the fastest sprinter. My father had in turn gifted me with a very long and boring lecture upon not to attract attention towards us.

I had given up the track team that I had joined in school. Not because my father warned me against pursuing my dream, but because the other students were preposterously slower than me. If I will unleash my full running speed on the track, I will undoubtedly attract more attention than I'd want. Even if I stop minding the attention even then it's incredibly boring to run along those slower humans. I have recourse to soccer in the last few years which requires bit of a technique and good reflexes than mind blowing speed. But on my father's face I tell him that he is the one because of whom I disjoined the track.

He always rolls his eyes at me, seeing right through my façade.

Nevertheless, running has always been my favorite part. I have always felt gratified that our running ability is irrelevant to our maturing levels. I do not have to be a mature therian to be as fast as the fastest therian. But that is not the case with our other abilities. We do not have a fixed age or even a phase to determine the exact level at which we'll mature. It's a part of growing up, equivalent to, maybe, attaining puberty. The elders of our house make sure that we test our therian abilities every Saturday. This way we know how long it may take us to be a full mature therian, since most of our abilities enhance with time as we mature. But the full-fledged abilities are only exhibited by the mature therians. Like heightened hearing and better reflexes, none of them being redundant so as to get us labeled as 'non-human'. Our abilities may be superior as compared to the humans, but not enough extravagant for us to be called non-human.

There are only two of the traits of mature therians to be called highly exceptional. Blatantly, the first is the ability confined to all the therians, mature or not. That is the ability to flux into the shape of an animal. The specialty exclusive to a mature therian is that he or she may transform only a part of their body into an animal form. Transformation of only hands into claws or only legs into paws or even only the head into that of an animal's. Though being a therian is probably the only thing that's thrill driving in my life, I still do not enjoy myself as a complete animal. And since I am not mature, I can only convert to a full animal. Not to be mistaken. I am very much a testosterone driven guy and enjoy the flight and the outstanding capabilities of my animal form. But I also prefer to be considered as a normal pure human. So, though I enjoy my adventures in my animal form, I still never fail at thinking that I am practically displaying a form of a monster. Therefore, it must be understandable why I detest not being a full mature therian as of yet. Full maturity will allow me to flux only parts of my body. I wouldn't have to convert whole of my body then. Even if in a small amount, I may still be able to retain my humanness in that form.

The second exceptional trait of mature therians is their ability to sense the auras of people around them. That is what Aakir and I were insinuating while talking of 'sensing' Neal. Since I am not mature, I do not know what it is like to sense someone's aura. From what Aakir and the elders at home tell me, you are just able to feel the exuded personas of people in the form of very low wavelength electromagnetic waves. Subtle for even the sensitive technology these days but enough vibrant for our mutated senses to catch. As these are nothing but energy waves and can be caught by our body cells, they are absorbed by us and we usually end up sensing the emotions that result into that particular wavelength of the wave.

Very technical, in my opinion.

And usually useless in the opinion of my mature family members. Because as they tell me, all the therians exude similar range of energy waves in their aura, which could only be classified as 'power' in terms of a palpating sensation. Therians are powerful beings, very much more so than humans. So, usually this 'power' overpowers any sort of other emotional sentiment that may characterize a particular therian. As for humans, they aren't as powerful and so their auras are usually weak, attenuated forms of their emotions. Not enough significant to be characterized individually.

Yet Aakir finds Neal's aura exceedingly 'different' and 'suspicious'.

It has only been over a month since Aakir has matured. Suddenly able to sense the auras of surrounding people has become quite overwhelming for him. He tends to get easily paranoid. He is a devout fan of The Plutocracy, always enjoying the witty ingenuity of Neal in his writing. Yet, since a month, Aakir has become wary of Neal's exceptional aptitude expressed in his paper, owing it to Neal's 'very bizarre and distinctive aura', as he says. I'll admit, I was curious. The fact that I was not mature, and couldn't sense it for myself was a major tick off. But over the span of a month, I have grown accustomed to Aakir's demeanor towards Neal, which is quite exaggerated now that I think of it. What I have interpreted is that Neal's aura is a little bit stronger than most of the humans. Hardly a reason for Aakir to be paranoid. I learnt to ignore it.Aakir manages to ignore it as well. It usually takes a lot to shake Aakir and even if something does affect him, he makes sure it is not long lasting. And in Neal's case, Aakir's complaints definitely do not matter.

Especially when Aakir's paranoia doesn't restrain him from spending every second of his life hanging to Neal's paper and the blog. Aakir's devoted likeness for The Plutocracy is not at all affected by the ordeal.

"I win." I hear Aakir say as we stop at the opening edge of the forest.

Frowning, I look at him to see him grinning."I didn't realize we were racing."

"Aren't we always?"

I shake my head. We start to walk at a human pace towards the road opening into the Peter's market. My thoughts kept me fairly occupied and it feels I have reached this end of the forest faster than usual. Especially faster once we had crossed our house. It doesn't take us long to reach the antique looking shop. It is built with old medieval stones and has a cozy looking wooden door with an amulet hung on the top. It is so positioned that while opening or closing of the door it tinkles, giving off mellifluent sounds expected out of wind chimes. The rest of the girth of the shop exposes the glass pane windows. Various decorative and sparkly items are on display at the window, attracting the customers, especially women. Shining, thin elegant copper wires twisted in cursive writing express the name of the shop at the front top'Happiness Reincarnated'both in Lettish and English. My parents are originally from Siberia, but living for so long here, the Latvian language has rubbed on them.

"You boys are late today." My mother speaks as soon as she hears the tinkle of the amulet as we enter.

Her sing song voice comes somewhere from our right. She has her back to us. She is arranging a few silvery, sparkling artificial flowers in a vase on the shelf. It leaves me befuddled how she can always guess without lookingthat it's us. Our shop receives a good amount of customers. So even if we come to the shop on time, I do not see how she should be able to guess that it's us who are entering the shop. She is not even a pure therian else I could have simply blamed the therian senses.

Yes, my mother is not a therian. She is a pure human.

She is also the epitome of a perfectionist. A slight wrinkle in your shirt and she'll run towards you with an iron in her hand. The point to be focused on is that she is absolutely happy while perfecting things. Meaning that while running towards you she'll be wearing a smile, almost as if she is proud she'd be the reason for your spotlessness.

Aakir kisses my mother on her cheek, "Ask your son." He intelligently says as my mother smiles back at him inquisitively. But distractedly, she starts straightening Aakir's ruffled t-shirt as if he is still a kid who doesn't know how to wear clothes.

Aakir, used to with my mother's bizarre attitude, retreats to greet his own mother. Only, Rufina aunt is busy interacting with a customer.

I take that as my queue and kiss my mother on the cheek too. Shepinches my cheek happily. Yes, I know, I know. She is always happy and vivacious. The phrase 'bubbly blonde' suits her aptly.

"What happened?" she returns back to putting things back on the shelf, the smile a permanent fixture on her face.

I shrug, "Just took a longer detour." I say, glaring in Aakir's direction. He should know better than to hint my parents that I got involved in a fight.

"But definitely in the forest." Another jocose voice announces from behind me. I turn to see Faith. She casually picks on some wild leaves stuck in my hair.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my smile widening as I engulf her in a hug.

Faith shrugs, "Just thought to help in the shop. It's anyways the weekend, so I had to be home."

"Enough talking you two." My mother smiles at us. "Come on, come on, and let's get on to work. Customers usually increase after this time of the day."

"I'll never understand, Aunt Nina," Faith says to my mother, "how you're always this enthusiastic for work!"

"Sweetheart, when you do the things you want, the requisite effort becomes insignificant." My mother replies.

Faith and I roll our eyes. Aakir, Faith and I indulge in a quick lunch at the manufacturing unit at the back of the shop. This section is inevitably bigger than the front of the shop and divided further into various sub-sections. Our shop receives the raw materials from various dealers, which is then prepared into the final products. Nothing in our shop is made with the help of technology. The workers use solely their hands and the strength of their backs to make all sorts of hand-made products. One unit is filled with endless stacks of paper which are scented with some powerful perfumery and then bound with hand-decorated cardboards. The girls, especially, come to like such hand-made diaries. A few workers in another unit work on preparing the artificial flowers. Not the vernacularly available flowers, but unique looking teal, golden, silver and some other weird colored flowers.Another section obtains shelf decorating items like a pen stand, or maybe a clock. Those are then painted and handedly decked, with several additions for its embellishment. Another enclosed section is devoted for the production of very uniquely available perfumes from various scented items, and bottled in even attractive bottles. There are other countless small things which are worked upon and very much liked by the customers as they exude a very homely feel. Our favorite section, however, is that of the confectionaries.

Confectionaries are probably the only thing made from scratch in our shop. It was for what our shop had been started in the first place. My mother and Rufina aunt have a knack of brilliant cooking abilities, especially that of the sugary ones. Back in the days, both the ladies used to work themselves in the kitchen and develop various chocolates and candies, which are again very different from the norms of chocolates and candies in the world. Over the time, as the customers grew, so did the shop. The ladies hired workers and taught them their expertise.

The three of us heat the packaged food in the oven and eat it at the island as various workers work around us. We have come to know each of them on a much personal level and the conversation is fluent as we eat. Some workers are lenient enough to let us taste some of the chocolates being made.

The shop's most selling occurs on the weekend, as is obvious. Sadly, that is when Aakir and I, and sometimes Faith, help our mothers in the forefront shop. Usually the customers are youngsters or females. Aakir doesn't mind the job because of the latter. Since its Friday,it's the day of our work and so we all get to work while continuing to enjoy our own family time. It definitely gets awkward for me sometimes when only females keep entering the shop. Not to be a male chauvinist, but I do feel like working in a lingerie section sometimes. Again, Aakir doesn't mind. And considering the amount of pocket money we get in return for our job, I make myself not mind either.

It's a shame sometimes, how monotonous, though nice, our lives are. Being a very different individual than humans, one would expect us to be fighting wars every day. But, no. My mother is every bit a normal housewife, working a homely shop with her sister, Aunt Rufina. Going to school and working at weekends is what constitutes our lives. Every bit similar to a normal teenager human's life.

It's sad, how the last thought makes me happier than anything in the world.

  2. The Maturation Blues

I may detest my animalistic nature, but it's hard to disregard the enlivening sensation, the thrill, that is brought upon by adapting to our nature.

Transformation to an animal form brings along with it the augmented adeptness natural to that particular animal. The animal can be extinct or a complete sprout of our imagination, provided we focus lucidly on what we expect of the animal we adapt to. That includes better senses, better flight instincts, better strength and better reflexes, everything just better. The heightened abilities boost our zeal. The rush of adrenaline, the anxiousness prior to our performance and the adroitness in our praxis of movements are welcoming distractions from our daily routine.

But getting up at seven on a Saturday morning is stretching it a little too far for my liking.

"Josh," My father begins as he folds the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow, "Terry is busy working and I am going to practice with Aakir first. So, you wait and pay attention, alright?"

The obedient son that I am, I nod at him and settle down on the porch, yawning profusely. My mother comes, waltzing and smiling, her bright lip shade stacked on even at this ungodly hour. She places a sloppy kiss to the side of my temple and sits beside me, leaning back and stretching her legs. As if she is settled in for a nice sun bathing on a beach.

Well, we do live right next to a beach. But the sun is not too high in the sky as of yet.

Aakir smirks at me as he comes and settles down on my other side. Instead of simply leaning back like my mother, he completely lies down on the porch and closes his eyes. And he is off to sleep.

I sigh.

Aakir may not like his uniqueness, but I am unbelievably jealous of his distinguishing specialty.

Unlike the normal physical therians like us, Aakir is a spiritual therian. His physical form doesn't possess the ability to metamorphose. But his astral body, his soul, is capable of that. Astral projection comes naturally to Aakir, unlike for some people who spend their whole lives meditating in order to perfect their astral travelling. His astral body remains invisible to a person until and unless he changes himself, or a part of himself, into an animal.

I watch, mesmerized, my sleepiness all but goneas Aakir's astral form materializes out of thin air in front of my father. He has taken the form of a half standing wildebeest look-a-like, as he always does. He says he feels the most strength in this form. He stands at an impressive height of seven feet, the dark skin of the animal stretching over the taut muscles of his arms and abdomen. His forelimbs extend into nimble-fingered claws and the nails of his paw like feet scrape against the green alfalfa grass of our pasture. He is a threatening sight, alright. It's a good thing our house is surrounded by woods on every side. Anybody peeking into our yard is going to be a very bad choice.

Father remains in his human form and walks to the pile of woods in our yard. I'm entranced by how spontaneously agile my father is even in his human form. He manages to be as strong and as fast as a human as we are as animals. I watch as my father picks up a log and throws at a prepared Aakir with lightning speed. It is neither easy to make a throw that fast and strong, nor to block such a throw.Yet, I see as my father continues to unleash log after log of wood at Aakir, who deflects each, breaking some in the event, with equal agility and strength. If anybody in this house can be a match for my father, it'd be Aakir.

This exercise is merely meant for our reflexes and impulsivity. The quicker you are, the better you're getting. This is something I am good at. I manage to be as swift as Aakir in such activities. It is during sparring that I lag behind. Not long after, my father starts to remove his clothes and wills his shoulders and arms to flux into something similar to that of Aakir's animal form. His skin becomes mellow, giving off the appearance of something melting, and reforms into stronger muscles and a darker skin. A process called 'Fluxing' as is taught to me. Painless, yet very displeasing to watch as it is practically dissolving and reforming of our skin.

They begin to offense and defense at a coruscated speed, leaving me awed. As my father's face is fairly human right now, he shouts instructions in between, pointing a few points here and there, without stopping their headfast speed at which they fend off moves. At one point, my father gets hold of Aakir's arms and swings them back in a very painful position. My grimace coincides with the howl let out by Aakir's wildebeest. My father doesn't waste time and brings Aakir further down with another painful kick in the abdomen. With frightening speed he is at Aakir's neck, his jaw melting as his maxillae and mandibles form a baleful sneer exposing sharpened canines ready to dig in first into Aakir's exposed neck.

The whole ordeal takes less than five seconds.

Without sinking the dangerous looking teeth into Aakir's neck, my father gets up, letting go of Aakir. His jaw reforms back to his human face and he monotonously starts explaining to Aakir where he had gone wrong to let him get empowered.

I exhale the breath I hadn't realize I was holding. I look beside me at Aakir's sleeping human body. He looks peaceful enough, as if his astral body is having the day of its life.

Too soon, it's my turn. I'll spare the details, to in turn spare myself the humiliation, and just hint enough to know that I wasn't as good as Aakir against my father. That should be understandable because I am not even mature yet. Though I drearily doubt that I'll be as good as Aakir once I have matured. Being as good as my father is a distant dream.

Sometimes I wonder why my fighting abilities are inferior to that of my father and Aakir. Okay, I am not that bad. After Aakir and father, I might be the next best fighter. But I was hoping to have taken after my father in these abilities. Maybe I am not good enough because my mother is a human. If that is the scenario then I ponder again why she was chosen as my father's partner. Even their personalities differ vividly. Where my mother is always joyous, smiling without a reason, my father lives with sobriety. My mother is brilliant at expressing her emotions, even without voicing her thoughts. My father on the other hand usually remains stoic. The fact that he is not a talker doesn't help much either.

The differences do not stop there.

My mother is the typical blonde. Curly golden locks, fair skin, blue eyes. My father is the dark haired, dark eyed, mysterious looking man. It's sometimes funny to watch them standing next to each other. My father looms at an impressive six feet, five inches, almost swallowing whole of my mother's five feet, five inches.

As much as I fawn over my blonde hair and blue eyes, I am quite gratified to have received my father's height and built.

The therian customs, especially for the ones who find their partners, works in bizarre ways; my parents being an imposing example.

"That was impressive." Says Rahul to me, as I put on my clothes back after practicing with my father.

Rahul is Faith's partner. Both are studying medicine at RīgaStradiņš University in Riga, which is around two hours away from Liepāja. Faith had encountered Rahul two years back when she had enrolled there. As is usually thecase, by sensing Rahul's aura Faith immediately realized that he is her partner. Rahul is a pure human like my mother. But since he is a partner to a therian now, he was informed of our nature. He has been exceptionally well adapting. Rahul and Faith are now a constant in the family on weekends. And seeing as how he, Faith's partner, is complimenting me at the present, I'd say the 'partner' thing can be quite brilliant in certain instances.

"Thanks." I grin in return.

After a hearty breakfast, mother and Rufina aunt prepare to leave for the shop, dragging Aakir and myself along. The day is usual, a little more crowded than normal, but usual nonetheless. At lunch, I return home while Aakir volunteers to remain at the shop. I end up sharing the dining table with my father, Terry uncle and Gwen aunt. I am partially surprised to see Gwen aunt out of her room. She usually restricts herself to minimum interaction with anyone in the house. She is the first one to finish up her meal and retire to her room, as expected.

"Doesn't she get bored in her room all the time?" I blurt out like an idiot to the other two men.

Father just gives me a stolid glance while Terry uncle smiles tiredly.

"She is the most comfortable there." Terry uncle says, shrugging. "Would you like to be thrown out of your comfort zone?" he asks me.

That's his polite way of saying that I shouldn't be questioning Gwen aunt's will. I guess it's natural for him to defend her, since she is his partner. Since the seventeen years of my life she may have spoken maybe ten words in total. Not just to me but to everyone included. It sometimes comes off as offensive, as if we are not superior enough for her to share a conversation with. I know I shouldn't pry or even be judgmental about her life, but my curiosity doesn't let my mouth remain shut nor my thoughts to remain vacant of the unanswered questions.

"Are you sure she is not suffering from some disorder?" I blurt out again, ignoring Terry uncle's subtle warning.

"Josh." My father says calmly.

"I am just asking." I grumble.

"Not for the first time." Father replies, remaining calm.

I roll my eyes, "Because you people never give me suitable reasons." I say, my mood darkening by the second. Seriously, what is so wrong if I want to know everything about my family? Terry uncle and Aunt Gwen may not be blood related to us. But we live under the same roof and have been doing so since innumerable years.

"There is no need to know everything that doesn't concern you." Father says with a tone of finality. He gets up, preparing to leave.

"Why? Because I am not mature enough?" I retort back.

The innuendo is not lost on the two men. Terry uncle gives me a droll look at my comment, while I sense my father's stare at me. But father doesn't say anything, like he never does. He simply walks by, patting my shoulder once and disappearing through the kitchen's door.

Terry uncle sighs, "You know...you're not very far from maturity. I'd say to give it a few days."

Now there is Terry uncle. Always diffusing optimism. I scoff.

"You don't believe me?" Terry uncle continues, "Nikolai told me you were exceptionally better this morning. Even he believes you to be mature soon."

"Yeah," I start sarcastically, "I can see that father is getting desperate."

"Josh." Terry uncle warns in an undertone. "I am being serious. Nikolai sounded happy about you improving. He is certain you'll mature soon."

I remain quiet for a moment. What he is telling doesn't appease me a bit. Not because it may not be true, but because I don't like to hear such things second handed. I look at him, my stubborn expression melting away a little.

"I just wish he'd tell me the same." I whisper. If I'd be loud enough, my father will hear it. Being a mature therian his hearing is good enough at twenty to thirty foot spaces. And even though father's room is at the first floor, I am in no doubt that he'll hear our conversation.

Terry uncle sighs, "You know that Nikolai is never good with words, don't you?" he whispers back.

"But why?" I whine, whispering, "I tell him everything. He is the first one to know everything significant happening in my life. Why can't I deserve the same dignity? Am I the only one growing up? If I am growing as a child, isn't he growing as a father?"

Terry uncle sighs again, "It's not like he doesn't tell you anything."

"That's not the point anymore. Yeah, so he answers half of my questions, the ones he think I am 'suitable' enough to know." I say sarcastically. "It makes me feel as if I am not worthy of being his son. I am not a kid anymore that he has to be reserved when it comes to sensitive issues.But, no." I drawl, "He doesn't express his feelings to me and refuses to answer half of the things I ask. What do you expect me to interpret?"

Terry uncle sighs again.

"Stop doing that." I say.

He gives me another droll look, "Look, Josh, Nikolai has never been a talker, least an expresser. Just because he doesn't tell you how proud he is of you, doesn't mean he is not."

I huff, "Could have fooled me." I mumbled.

"Hey," Uncle snaps at me, "Don't you ever think that Nikolai loves you any less. I have been his best friend for almost thirty five years now, since we were toddlers, and I take pride in the fact that I may know him better than even Nina. It's not like he used to be expressive back in the days. Your father has always been like this and I have grown accustomed to it. So, believe me when I say, that he cannot be more proud of you. He loves you dearly, even if his actions speak otherwise." Uncle rolls his eyes at the end.

I swallow, "I just wish he'd tell me that." I start quietly, "You know...just express anything. Even disappointment and anger would do. He doesn't even express that, ever."

Terry uncle chuckles, "He takes it after your grandfather. Even he was a very, very sober man. I used to find him very threatening back in the days."

I smile ruefully. "In your so called 'realm'?

"In our so called 'home'." Uncle says dryly.

I shake my head, smiling. Even this 'realm' or 'home' is unknown to me. I have raised several questions to my father regarding the realm from where we are and where it is situated. He just tells me a few nonchalant things about the history of our realm, but nothing specific. He never even answers for why they had left their realm. He is even vaguer to speak about my ancestors.

"What was he like?" I ask uncle, seeing an opening of some sort. It's very rarely any of the elders talk about their past lives, or of our ancestors.

"Nikolai? Even then he used to be-"

"No," I interrupt. "Grandfather...what was my grandfather like?"

Terry uncle takes a moment to gather his thoughts. I am almost half sure that he is contemplating whether to divulge information or not and I make my expression as hopeful and innocent as possible. The trick works and resigning, uncle sighs again.

"Mikhail Lichinsky was a force to be reckoned with." He begins, like narrating a story to a toddler. A smile effortlessly makes its way on my face, "Just imagine," Uncle continues, "an exaggerated version of your father. Not just in the respect of sobriety, but also in the abilities. There was hardly anyone in the realm who could be his match. He was threatening with his therian capabilities, but soft hearted, just like your father. Being the leader of our realm, he had-"

"Leader?" I say in between, "He used to be the leader?"

"Uh..." Uncle looks regretful to have spilled that, but nonetheless continues. Probably enjoying his reminiscence, "Yes, he used to be our leader. The best our realm ever had. I still remember when I had joined the training sessions at the age twelve. Your grandfather personally used to teach us. I almost shat in my pants, he was dreadful."

I chuckle.

"But," Uncle continues, "He was equally wise. It used to be our ritual to gather once a week for a bonfire night, just like we do sometimes here. All the kids would gather around Mr. Lichinsky and listen to him giving insightful speeches. I used to be his fan," Uncle grins, "I couldn't resist befriending his son."

I roll my eyes, "Why did you guys even leave?" What he is narrating sounds unimaginably pleasant. I can't think of a single reason that would have driven our elders out of the realm.

Uncle simply shrugs in reply. "It was time to move on." He gets up and picks up his plate to put it in the dishwasher, "The realm was awfully orthodox anyways. I mean, nowadays, who would listen to the elder giving boring speeches about life, while they can be texting endlessly on their smartphones?"

He has a point, I think. It still sounds remarkably good.

"My name is so...dingy as compared to him." I say suddenly.

"Huh?" uncle says, turning to look at me.

"Josh Lichinsky. I mean, really, 'Josh'? Mikhail and Nikolai are far regal. I have no doubt it's my mother who did my namesake."

Uncle gives off a booming laugh. "Actually, I believe it was Rufina who suggested the name."

"You're kidding me." I deadpan. Rufina aunt is almost a female version of my father, only a tad bit expressive. It's almost scary how different she is from my mother. Yeah, she may be the elder sister to my mother, but possesses exceptionally different characters. For one, she doesn't wear make-up, unlike my mother.

Uncle chuckles. "Your mother wanted Rufina to name you. She knows how much Rufina loves kids. And see? The first chance she got, she adopted Aakir."

I grin back. Aakir's finding and adoption events are quite memorable. He was found soon after my birth, when uncle and father had gone for a stroll in the forest park. Since both the elders were mature, they sensed Aakir's presence instantly. They had a day of surprise finding a barely one year old, bawling his eyes out in the cold woods. The surprise intensified when that one year old was sensed to be a therian. More surprise had been the following days when my family vouched for police investigation, so as to know the source of the kid. A month later, with no concrete information, Rufina aunt formally adopted Aakir.

"Will Rufina aunt ever find a partner?" I ask.

Uncle shrugs, "If you have a partner, you usually find them in the early years. Rufina is almost forty years old now. I doubt it." he shrugs, "But miracles happen."

I smirk and shake my head at 'miracle'. "Rufina aunt is not miserable." I roll my eyes, "She is surviving plenty well without the 'miracle'."

"Josh...It's comforting to know that you will have a companion for life. Though Rufina is happy, I am still sure she doesn't count herself lucky."

I take a moment to ponder over that as Uncle fills a glass of water for himself. This 'partner' thing has always befuddled me. Looking at Rufina aunt, she seems as happy as any other member of our house who has a partner. Sometimes even happier. Obviously you don't need to have a partner to survive well. But apparently it is considered a bonus.

"Why do you think she doesn't have a partner?" I ask instead.

"She has very high standards." He jokes, chuckling. Then sober, adds, "It's not necessary that you'll have a partner. If you have one, okay. If you don't have one, double okay. Your aura just tends to seek the one with whom you'll be most compatible. If you don't find anyone who fits with your aura," Uncle shrugs, "big deal." He ends in a 'duh' tone. "It's not like a 'soul-mate'. Not everyone has someone custom made for them."

"But...Aunty doesn't even date anyone...?" I finish sheepishly. I know, I know, my curiosity is making me ask such questions which I shouldn't be asking. But can you blame a guy? Aunt Rufina is a placid woman and fairly good looking, even in her forties, and even without the make-up. It is not going to be tough for her to catch a good guy even at this age.

Uncle nods, "That's because her aura doesn't fit well with anyone. Or vice versa. The bond you attain with your partner can't be attained with anybody else."

"So..." I start dubiously, "If perchance you don't like your partner..." I trail off.

Uncle chuckles, "It's impossible not to like your partner. But, hypothetically, if you do, you'll still stick with them, because only their aura will be satiating enough."

It doesn't escape me that he may be giving justification for his relationship with someone like Gwen.

"Sounds like a curse." I quip childishly and get up to place my own plate in the dishwasher.

"Don't worry." Uncle says, "As I said, it's fairly likely you'll not find a partner at all."

"Yeah, Aakir hasn't found one. I am yet to get mature." Talking of Aakir, I check my wrist watch, "Oh crap, I have extended my break. I better get going."

I bid uncle a goodbye and depart towards our shop. Uncle and father keep up jobs of their own, apart from our family business. The latter is mostly run by the women of the house. I can say we are fairly well off with four bread winners, considering the size of my family. Though the money invested in the cars for my family hasn't been fruitful. As therians we all prefer to walk or run on foot than use our cars. They are used only for very large distances or when we require being faster than we are on foot.

The rest of the weekend is uneventful. Since Faith and Rahul are home the dinner is lavish and the gossips are endless. We youngsters end up spending the nights out, 'partying'. That is if eating out, taking a few drinks (with Faith and Rahul's help, since Aakir and I are not off age) and wandering aimlessly in the streets of Liepāja is considered 'partying'.It's a fun time, nonetheless. I always enjoy with my family, more so than I do with my friends from school. Ray and the other guys from school did propose a gathering and endless liquor, but Aakir and I always have the good excuse of our cousin sister being home.

Before I know it Aakir and I are running late for school on Monday. We reach with only five minutes spare. As soon as we are in the corridor Aakir snatches a copy of The Plutocracy from the newspaper rack, making me roll my eyes. He is such a gossip digger though he'll never admit it on face. We walk down the corridor, rushing to our first class. Other students, some in the same posture as Aakir with the newspaper, hurry up too as the warning bell rings. Aakir's nose is stuck in the paper, inattentive to the crowd of students rushing to their classes.Still he bumps not into a single student on his way, probably sensing their aura beforehand and diverting his way. Show off.

We reach the class, our friends being boisterous at the back benches. A few people greet me as we walk towards the back of the class. Politely, I greet back.

"Oooh! Here's our hero!" Francis half jumps onto my shoulder, attempting to grasp my skull in a head lock. I playfully push him back, but my force is enough to keep him at bay. I instead motion to give him a high five. A round of 'what's up' goes off and I am comfortably seated at my bench as my countless friends continue to talk.

"Oh, Viktor got a huge blow." Ray says, grinning, as he walks to sit next to me.

Viktor? Oh, right. I had completely forgotten about my so called fight with him.

"He'll survive." I reply nonchalantly.

"Not after reading this." Aakir mumbles, his face still buried in The Plutocracy.

I frown, "What?"

"That was very nice of you, you know." Natalie says, sitting in front of me, "There are so less people who stand up to bullies these days."

My chest puffs up a bit at her comment. No, it has nothing to do with how pretty she is. No, it also doesn't have anything to do with the million dollar smile she's sending my way. And no, it certainly doesn't have to do with the fact that she has chosen to sit near me, as I have been wishing since the last few days.

Okay, so maybe I have a little crush on her.

I smile at her, "People shouldn't bully in the first place."

"Yes," Ray says, "I regret not interfering before it got out of hand." He says, in respect to himself being amongst the audience while the kid was getting bullied. "But I am very glad one of us stood up to him," he continues, looking at me, "Viktor had to be stopped."

Well. Don't I feel like a proud child, I mentally scoff at Ray's praising.

"I wish I was there." Natalie gushes suddenly, her dark eyes twinkling, making her look cute, "Not because I'd like to see you in a fight," she gives me a chiding look in jest, "I just read that you were very good. I have never seen you getting involved in such things ever before."

"Oh," I start, keeping the blush off my face, "It wasn't much of a fight." I say modestly.

"Yeah, I read that you didn't allow Viktor to put even one offensive move."

There was that word again. "Read?" I ask.

She shrugs, "The Plutocracy."

"Oh." I should have known Neal will write exaggeratedly about my 'fight' in his paper. I don't feel the urge to read the article. With the way my day is starting I'll anyways know the content of the article from people soon enough.

"Yes. Viktor has a reputation for fighting." Natalie continues, "So naturally I was surprised when I read the paper about you defeating him."

Defeating? What was it, a war?

"So was I, man." Ray smiles at me, "I honestly didn't think you had it in you." he says genuinely.

They continue to talk back and forth about this. 'Viktor', 'Plutocracy', 'You were so good', 'Very nice of you to stand against Viktor' and the best, 'I didn't know you had it in you'. It was starting to irk me a little. The only good thing that seems to be coming out of this is Natalie talking to me more than usual. But even that starts to lose its charm by the time lunch rolls over. Every single person I am meeting has nothing more to do than tell me how good it was of me to stand against Viktor. It's hilarious in a satirical sense, because I had completely forgotten about the ordeal over the weekend. Teenagers. Forever trapped in a brumous state. I'll notice Aakir snickering subtly whenever someone lifts the topic again. As much oblivious our friends are of my blatant vexation, that much aware Aakir seems to be of it.

I am walking towards the cafeteria with Natalie by my side when out of nowhere a hand clasps on my shoulder, obliging me to turn back. If I were a pure human the hand on my shoulder would probably leave a bruise. Once turned, I understand why the hold is so powerful in an antagonistic fashion. Standing, almost bristling is Viktor Lagunov, the very subject of whom has me on edge the whole day.

"Having the time of your life, Lichinsky?" he growls, stepping onto my face.

"Lagunov." I greet him tiredly, looking around us. My friends have halted, so have all the students in our vicinity. Everyone anticipating what will happen.

"Let's have a little buddy chat, shall we?" He sneers at me and I notice that two, equally bulldozer sized boys are standing behind Viktor. What's with these people having minions all the time?

I blink and realize that everyone's awaiting my answer. I take a deep breath and exhale it as I contemplate what to do.

"Sure," I reply to him, "But be sure to take an appointment first."

My smartass comment earns me a few snickers. Viktor looks unimpressed. Aw, hell. I shrug off his hand from my shoulder and turn to walk away. The next thing I know, Viktor has me pressed against the wall, his hold uncomfortable at my clavicle. I take a moment to let it sink in that he just pushed me, forcefully I may add, against a wall.

"Don't be a sissy-" he starts and that's all he manages to say. I push him so hard against his chest that he stumbles back, clumsily falling in the arms of his two friends. I take a step towards him as he, embarrassingly, steadies himself.

"Don't you dare touch me again, Viktor." I tell him in a low voice. I have no desire to let the world know what we are talking about. "And I have no interest in your stupid games."

"You have some nerve to tell me that after last time." He snaps back, not trying to be as discreet as myself.

I huff in annoyance. I have had enough of these childish antics, "I don't have time for this." I say and turn away.

"Why would you, you coward!" I hear him shout as I walk away with my head low. "Try to fight fair and square or you don't have the guts?"

I roll my eyes and do not turn back. His provocative insults fade as I increase the distance between him and I. I think I have made my intent clear. I do not wish to fight. I am counting on my ignorance to get away from the center stage. But after that little incident, my friends start looking at me with awe, especially the girls. The guys pat my back and the conversation steers towards Viktor again, regarding how foolish he isand that he doesn't stand a chance against me etcetera. The praises are good for a little while but after a while, again, they start to get to my nerves.

I assume that the craziness will fade away as the week will progress. But boy, am I wrong. My friends become friendlier towards me.The girls find me charmer than I was last week. Even Ray has suddenly realized that I am his best buddy. Whenever I accidently encounter Viktor, he doesn't fail at throwing insult after insult at me, trying to elicit some sort of reaction from me. But I force myself to remain oblivious. If only I can do the same for the sudden popularity I seem to be grasping. Aakir has suddenly found something to amuse himself in for my squirming. He has taken as his responsibility to narrate to me the contents of the school blog that is updated every day. Apparently, my 'superiority' to Viktor and my 'humbleness' towards the attention are pretty much worthy of being announced on the internet by Neal. I am dreading The Plutocracy next Monday.

One will think that I should be thoroughly enjoying the fandom while it's going to last. I am enjoying it when it comes down to Natalie who has finally realized that I am worthy of her time.But everything else doesn't seem so great. Not if you want to count the nauseating affability my friends are offering me, or their desperateness to become good friends with me all of a sudden. What do people earn by this high esteemed popularity? Why do people enjoy this? They enjoy it because people start liking you more than they used to? But what about the pretense in their likeness?

It's actually sad how a few words in the school newspaper and the school blog can change the mindset of people in this hell of a school. The blind ants walking in a line without caring to know where they are being led.

On Friday, when everybody is in a good mood for it to be finally the weekend, I am broodingly stuffing my things into my locker and slamming it shut with more force than necessary.

"Easy, tiger." A voice chuckles from behind me.

I turn to see Neal and one of his friends standing next to him. Actually, I believe they must be passing the corridor and Neal decided to stop. The girl, his friend, looks dubious as she pauses as well. I am not sure of the girl's name. It is Tanya or something along those lines, I believe. What I know is that Neal is very rarely seen without this particular lady at his arm.

"Hey." I greet him.

"I'll wait in the parking." The girl says in a soft voice to Neal, who nods in return. She gives me a sweet smile before turning away. I smile back as she walks away. She is a pretty cute girl, now that I notice. Neal is one lucky bastard.

"So," Neal grins, "Hope you had a good week."

My smile vanishes at his implicating tone. "In my dreams." I scoff.

His eyebrows rise at my bearish tone. And then he unexpectedly chuckles. "You'll get used to it." He says.

"Used to what?" I say, my tone a little indignant at him getting entertained at my expense, "The fakeness of my friends?"

He remains quiet as we start walking towards the exit of the building. I realize that my tone comes out ruder than I intended. I look at him sideways. He is walking nonchalantly, unseeingly looking in the front.

"I don't mean to be rude, Neal." I start, stupidly feeling guilty for taking out my frustration at him. "But, I am-"

"Isn't it good in a way?" he interrupts, "Now you know who your real friends are."

I halt my steps, as does he. He looks amused as he waits for my reply. Neal is far from being someone unintelligent. In an insightful ephemeral moment, I marvel over how complicatedly Neal is trying to send me a message. Or maybe I am looking too much into his words.

"Can you stop writing about me?" I ask him abruptly.

The surprise is clear on his face at my sudden request. Then he narrows his eyes at me suspiciously, "I am not going to write anything bad about you, if you're worried." He says.

I shake my head. "I don't want you to write about me at all." I say. "Please?" I add after a moment.

Now his features are marked with a little bit of concern along with surprise. For the first time he must be encountering a situation where his gifted popularity has become unwanted.

"Okay." He says in a small voice. He suspires then, running a hand through his already messed up hair, "But, Lichinsky...you should know that it's not going to earn you genuineness from people."

I sigh, "I know." I tell him. I hesitate for a moment and then continue, "Even before all this attention I knew who to count as friends, Neal. This has just been an added nuisance."

He shrugs, "But you're still wooing Natalie."

I freeze. How the hell did he know that I fancy Natalie? I am fairly sure that no one apart from Aakir knows about that. Am I that predictable? Have my actions given me away? Is it-

"Don't look so surprised." Neal says, rolling his eyes and smiling teasingly, "And don't worry either. Nobody knows."

"How did you-"

"I have my ways." He cuts me off, "the point is, if you're so sure who your real friends are then I advise you sort out your priority list."

"Neal," I say sternly, "You do realize that you're overstepping some boundaries?"

I guess I look threatening enough to make Neal pause and ponder over that for a while.

"It has become a habit of sort." He says after a silent moment.

Apparently I do not look threatening enough. Or maybe Neal is more daring than I thought him to be.

I take a moment to calm myself. The whole week has been such a downer that even if Neal's demeanor is not as offensive as I am feeling, I'll still end up taking out my frustrations on him. He has some guts to be saying these things to me. I know I don't have the greatest of friends but Neal has no right to rub that in my face. And he especially doesn't have any right to interfere in my personal matters no matter how much impertinence is requisite for his stupid activity of a job. How can people enjoy popularity at the expense of their personal lives? I know that I don't. I feel violated.

"Calm down, Josh." Neal says, smirking slightly, "You're beginning to sweat."

Frowning, I touch my temple and realize that he is right. My forehead is clammy. My frown deepens. I hear Neal sigh.

"I don't mean to be rude either, Lichinsky." He says, "I am just doing what I like." He grins tiredly at me.

I roll my eyes, "You're shameless." I tell him. We start walking again.

His grin widens, "I know."

"And I really don't appreciate it. Especially your take on my personal matters. You have no right."

He bobs his head, "I know that, too."

"And you don't care."

"Yup."

I shake my head, "You're a real prick." I mumble under my breath. It is loud enough for Neal to hear and I see him smirking from the corner of my eyes.

"I'll not write anything, okay?" He says as we exit the doors and walk down the steps. "Don't fret."

I roll my eyes, "I'm forced to wonder why people even like you." I say, not completely over my pissed off state. I suppose he understands that by 'liking' I mean people 'blindly following' him. I am gratified for the fact that we share a certain understanding, where he knows I don't like his prying and I know that he doesn't give a shit. But it is still bizarre how nonchalant he is being about my disapproval. "Or maybe there are people who dislike you for real." I say after a moment.

"Actually, you're the first one amongst the ones I extole who dislikes me." He says. We reach the last step and halt again. He is smiling, as if nothing in this world can be more amusing than my misery.

"I don't dislike you." I clarify. "It's the work you do that I dislike."

He rolls his eyes, "Big words, Lichinsky." Then he gives a sweet, sickening smile, "Am I allowed to mention your name for soccer, at least?"

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that he is being sarcastic.

"Soccer practice doesn't start for another month." I tell him anyways.

"Maybe you want to warn beforehand."

I shake my head, "I just don't appreciate you prying into my personal matter for your blog and paper-"

"I didn't mention anything 'personal' about you in print." He quips in between, raising his left eyebrow.

"-and I don't appreciate," I continue, "you publicizing me for vague things in order to send me a subtle advice for my personal life."

There is an extending pause.

"Alright." He awkwardly rubs the side of his temple, "I won't. I apologize."

I am surprised with how genuine he sounds. "Okay." I say, at a loss of words.

"Okay." He drawls, "We cool?"

I nod.

"Right," he says, "Then you should probably go and rest or something. You don't look too good."

"What?"

"You look pale. And you're still sweating."

Stupidly, I check my forehead again which is still clammy. Strange. I am not feeling queasy or anything. A little warm, yes, but that's ignorable, especially with the distracting conversation going on.

"Want me to drop you off?" he offers.

"No, no." I say, "I'll be fine. I am feeling fine. I don't know what's wrong."

"Okay," he shrugs, "See you around." Again, he turns around abruptly without waiting for my response.

I shake my head and walk towards the school gates where Aakir must be waiting as usual. As soon as I have undivided attention solely on myself I notice that I do feel warmer than usual. It's not uncomfortably hot but just enough to make me notice it. Again, Aakir senses my aura and turns his head in my direction when I am quite far away. He looks pissed off, yet again, as I am late. I smirk as I reach him. And again it's not a surprise when his anger vanishes. But then he starts looking at me with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I sigh, "Am I looking that bad?"

"You look pale." He says. Frowning, he steps closer to me and puts a hand on my forehead. "Oh, God." He says.

I swat his hand away, annoyed, "What?"

"I think you're maturing." He says slowly.

"Huh?"

"I had a fever prior to my maturation, too." He explains, "Remember?"

"Eh...Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"Alright." I say, shrugging.

Aakir nods, looking doubtful, "You're running a temperature. Let's go home."

"Uh, how long does it-"

"It was just a few hours for me. It happened overnight."

With that numbing revelation, I absently follow Aakir towards the woods.

  3. The Surprisals

We make it to the woods and break off into a sprint. I have always assumed that I'll be exceptionally giddy and thrilled to realize that I am finally at the stage of reaching maturity. But right nowI feel...nothing. I wonder if it's shock that isn't allowing me to feel the excitement. Or maybe it is because I actually feel no difference. It doesn't feel like maturing...even though I know it's going to take a few hours from now. I expect it to be drastic, something that happens in the snap of the moment. This slow drag makes me apprehensive.

Aakir's maturation, as he said, had taken over the night. I haven't ever put forth an inquisition regarding the mechanics of our maturing to my father ever. And I am regretting that now. He had only once informed me that it only takes a few hours of process to become mature. Then Aakir had matured right by my side. From what I know of his maturation event, he had simply suffered a burning temperature during the night. And in the morning, viola! He was as mature as any other elder in the house.

The cool air feels dulcet on my hot skin as we run. In just a few hours I'll be mature. I let that sink in. Then I start feeling something that I have no explanation for. I feel dreadful. Exactly how many hours will it take? Will I come to be as mature as everybody else, or something may go wrong with me? Will my abilities be any match for my father once I'll be mature, or I'll continue to get humiliated at his hands? The worst thing in the world is when I feel that I have disappointed my father somehow. Father being father, he never expresses his letdown when I don't meet his expectations. Everybody else tells me that he never feels the disappointment that I assume him to be feeling. But a father is bound to have some expectations from his son, no? I want to live up to those expectations. I send a silent prayer to the triple goddess who created our species, asking her to let my maturation flow by smoothly.

Still, the knowledge that I'll be maturing in a short time doesn't hold the 'big deal' feel that I have been anticipating. Probably because it has come so unexpectedly. Yeah, Terry uncle informed me last week that I may get mature soon according to my father, but still.

When we reach the house I keep running across it towards the route of our shop. It's Friday again, our working day. Plus, I'll like to inform my mother and Rufina aunt about this sudden development. Terry uncle and father must be at their respective jobs. Only Gwen must be at home. And I know that she is not the first person I want to inform about this.

"Where the hell are you going?" Aakir says, stopping in front of the house.

"At the shop?" I say in a 'duh' tone.

"You should stay at home."

I roll my eyes, "I am fine. What'll I do at home, anyways? Wait for maturation like a caterpillar?"

It's his turn to roll his eyes. "You should rest. Even if you ignore the maturation part, you are running a fever. Doesn't that sound like a big deal? We don't get sick."

Yeah, I know that we as therians have very little tendency of developing a sickness. But I am feeling absolutely perfect, if a tad bit warmer. And what the hell does he mean by 'ignore the maturation part'? What is he trying to entail? That I may not be maturing but simply running a temperature?

"I am fine." I say exasperatedly. "Don't be my mom."

"Josh-"

"You got through it fine. What's the big deal?" I cut him off.

I watch as Aakir's ears and neck turn a little pinkish, "Actually...it tends to get a little...uncomfortable."

I raise my eyebrows. He hasn't told me anything about any sort of...'uncomfortable-ness', so to speak, during his maturation.

I clear my throat, "Eh...what exactly?" I ask.

He shrugs and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, "Itgets a little suffocating....a bit nauseating..."

Okay, I am beginning to believe that Aakir has more pride than I give him credit for. Why else would he not inform anyone of his predicament during the maturation stage? Or maybe he is just a show off.

I huff, "And you didn't tell me that because?"

"I didn't think it was important, okay? Just go into the house and rest."

"I am feeling fine." I say stubbornly. "Let's go."

Aakir puts forth his protestation but I listen nothing of it. I end up winning this round. Sulking, he follows as I run towards our shop. Once we break out of the woods, we start off in a brisk walk. Happiness Reincarnated comes into view and I move on without hesitation. But Aakir's steps falter.

"What?" I ask, while opening the door to our shop.

Aakir is standing mid-step, apprehensively looking towards the inside of our shop. "Do you feel that?" he asks.

"...What?"

Aakir turns his eyes to me, as if looking at me for the first time. Then he shakes his head as if getting rid of a thought.

...Okay.

I enter the shop and notice that mother is attending two girls at the confectionary section. She sends me a quick smile when she sees me. I smile back and move towards the other end where Aunt Rufina sits behind the cash counter.

"Hey." I greet her, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Hello, Josh. How was your day?" she asks, smiling. It never fails to baffle me how different Rufina aunt is from my mother. Mother is so flamboyant, while Rufina aunt basks in simplicity.

"Good." I tell her ephemerally.

Unexpectedly, she starts scouting my face. She stands up and places her hand on my forehead, much like Aakir had a few moments ago.

"I really need to see a mirror. To see what is giving me away." I say, exasperated.

Aunt chuckles. "You look ghostly pale. You shouldn't be here."

"I am feeling fine." I tell her.

"Give it a few minutes then you won't feel so fine anymore." She smirks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She pauses, "Are you happy?" she asks.

"Honestly...I don't know. I suppose it hasn't sunk in yet that I am finally maturing."

She shrugs, "It isn't much of a deal either. All therians mature. It's just a matter of time. In our time, we all had matured only after our eighteenth birthdays. But look at you boys, maturing at seventeen. You have beaten us." She smiles indulgently.

I smile back then let it slip gradually, "You guys never informed that we tend to get sick during maturation. Even Aakir didn't tell me."

Aunt chuckles again, "Ah, now he told you, huh? Aakir didn't want anyone to know. I still remember; I was by his bed all night. He made me promise the next day that I don't tell anyone how sick he got."

I scoff, "It would have been a good warning." I say.

"Personally, seeing how curious you always are, I was surprised that you didn't enquire into the details of the process."

"I didn't ever think it'll be noticeable." I admit, "Even now," I frown, "I am feeling absolutely perfect."

"Don't test it. You never know when you'll start heaving. Go home and rest." She smiles, patting my left cheek.

Well...as much as I do not want to, it sometimes becomes quite difficult to refuse Rufina aunt. Especially when she gives all the reasonable reasons for her request.

"Alright." I sigh. "Aakir is going to tease me that I am going to stay at home anyways." I murmur.

Aunt simply smiles and together we turn to look at the said person. However, the scene that greets us is a little...flummoxing.

Aakir is still standing near the door of our shop, his feet practically glued in the place. He hasn't moved an inch since he entered the shop. His stare is transfixed and he looks slightly pale, making me wonder if I am looking as pale as him. I follow his line of vision. He is looking at my mother and the customers at the confectionary shelf.

"What's up?" I ask, as I approach him.

His eyes snap towards me and his complexion becomes even more pallid.

"Are you okay?" I ask, a little worried.

His eyes flick back and forth between me and my mother, as if he is contemplating something. Then he abruptly garbs me by the arm and drags me out of the shop. I try to jerk my arm off but sadly I do not succeed. Aakir is a lot stronger than me. I really want that to change once I have matured. I do not want to think how much of a kick it will be at my ego if I still remain weaker than him after maturation. We step outside the shop and he lets go of my arm before I can get more annoyed.

"What the hell?" I say as both of us turn to face each other.

"She's-my-partner." He blurts.

"Huh?"

He punches my arm, making me wince. I am steadily growing to dislike his strength.

"She's...she's my partner." He says, slowly this time. He looks anxious and panicky- never a good combination. Especially for someone like Aakir.

It is after another moment I take notice of his words. Partner? What partner? And who 'she'?

"What?" is my intelligent reaction.

He, scowling now, punches my arm yet again.

"Hey!" I snap, rubbing the spot on the arm he just hit, "I am sick."

He rolls his eyes, then, "What do I do?" he starts, looking terrified. "Am I supposed to talk to her now? I don't even know her! I-"

"Calm down." I tell him. He immediately starts worrying his lower lip. But at least he has shut up. "Now," I start, "What do you mean? What partner? Who 'she'?"

He looks exasperated as he says, "She," he points to the door of our shop, "She – that girl talking to Nina aunt – she is my partner!"

I let the information come through, let it sink in. Aakir has found his partner. Aakir has bloody found his partner! To be honest, I never accepted that we'll find partners someday. It is too bizarre a tradition to be adopted, or expected. Even if not for the orthodox trend, it is just too surreal for one of us to go through such an ordeal. It's like I assumed only our eldersto undergo such things, but weremain resistant.

"Alright," I say but pause. My pause becomes too lengthy as Aakir grows agitated.

"Say something!" he urges.

"I don't know what to say." I blurt.

Aakir continues to chew on his lip, the panic-stricken face plastered on his head.

"I am just shocked." I tell him.

"No shit." He rolls his eyes.

"Well...I didn't even see her." I say dumbly.

"What do I do?" Aakir says, ignoring my daft remarks, "This is so bloody awful. I don't even know her! Not even her name!"

Yes, that definitely sounds awful.

"How did you know?" I ask him. I know that it is through the aura of your partner that you realize that she is the one. But what exactly does it feel like? How is it distinguishable from other people? I have never been much interested in this particular topic to raise specific inquiries; but watching Aakir undergoing this ordeal, I feel the sudden urge to be aware of how exactly it works.

"I just do." Aakir says with ambiguity, more worried about his unknown partner at the moment.

"How?" I stress.

He looks annoyed for a moment, like my parents lookwhenever I ask a question too many times. But then he suspires, "Her aura. It's very attractive."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he says nothing.

"That's it?" I let my disappointment show in those two words.

Aakir shakes his head, tiredly. "It's complicated." He says quietly. "The aura is attractive...so appealing that I feel a very strong urge to be around it. I just got a feeling...feeling..." he huffs out his breath, "I can't explain, okay?" he says, struggling with words, "I just know she is the one."

Before I can say anything, the door to our shop opens and the two girls move out, chatting amongst themselves. They probably seem a little older than us...Both are blondes, one slightly shorter than the other. Err...which one is Aakir's partner? I see Aakir's widened eyes glued to the taller blonde. She is pretty. Not the usual 'she's cute' pretty, but a very 'sturdy' looking pretty...if that makes any sense. Both the girls smile at us in politeness and then pass by, walking down the street.

"Oh shit, she is going!" Aakir exclaims a little too late.

"Um, you're going to follow her?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"Um..."

"What if I don't see her again?"

"Well..."

"She is going to disappear out of sight, don't give me 'um's and 'well's!" he snaps at me.

I cringe, "Okay, okay," I say, raising my hand in peace, "Go after her...err, talk or whatever. Be subtle," I say sternly, "And calm," I say with double the sternness, "I'll tell aunt and mom."

"Uh huh." Aakir says absentmindedly. The bugger doesn't even spare me a glance and starts walking towards the girls.

Oh, well.

Hasn't it been a day full of surprises? In a trance, I move back inside the shop and inform aunt and mother of the sudden development. Rufina aunt is fairly surprised and dumbly, like me, wonders who the girl is, since she was pretty occupied to notice those two girls. My mother on the other hand is ecstatic. She tells aunt that the girl is very pretty and that she is immensely happy for Aakir. Aunt Rufina contributes her thoughts upon Aakir's happiness as well. Like the two lovely sisters they are, they start gossiping about the event and how dandy it is for one of their sons to have finally found his companion. I'll admit, I am a little weird-ed out at their reactions.

Then my mother notices my paleness and the danky appearance. Her happiness immediately turns into concern. But once she realizes the reason behind my sudden ill-looking state, she becomes the happiest being on this planet. She tries to come along with me to home to take care of me since I am expected to get sick. It takes a lot of time to convince her otherwise. I promise her to call if I start to get worse. She is appeased and starts focusing on the goodness this day has brought. She starts gushing how their enjoyment is doubled by both the good news in a single day. At some point they even start discussing about throwing some party over the weekend for this. The overflow of estrogen being too much, I take my leave fairly quickly.

On my way home I text my father that I am running a fever. He should know that I am about to mature. His reply is a simple 'okay' just like I expected. I spend a few hours at home, alone in my room. I do not feel any changes in the physiological sense. Again, it's a little warmer but that's about it. When is the sickness supposed to start? Huffing, I lay down in my bed, awaiting the inevitable. Unfortunately, it's Aakir who gets my attention before any sickness. Our rooms are on the same floor, the second floor, just below the attic. A spare room also resides on this floor, which usually remains vacant. The door to my room is open. I watch as Aakir angrily stomps towards his door. Angrily? Now that's a surprise...

"How did it go?" I ask him in the normal pitch. He is a mature therian. He'll hear me even if I whisper.

Aakir halts his steps, retreats and walks towards my door. Scowling, he pauses at my door.

"She called me a bloody 'kid'!" he shouts, ireful.

I raise my eyebrow, "You're kidding me?"

"Apparently, I am too 'young'to be hitting on 'college girls' like herself!"

I immediately notice that he is not the usual angry, the one where it takes one, maybe two words, to appease him. He is that angry, the one where he ends up sulking. I don't even remember when was the last time I saw him being that type of angry. He doesn't wait for my response and turns away, stomping to his room. He shuts his door with a bang, making me wince. Well. He definitely doesn't want to talk to anyone for a good few hours.

The women of the house impatiently announce the good news to everyone over supper. Even after approximately five hours, I am feeling perfectly fine. So, I end up joining everyone at the kitchen island. Since it's the weekend, Faith and Rahul are home. Everybody is quite felicitous over the news, except for Aunt Gwen of course, who doesn't join us as usual. It gets slightly irritating after a while, when everybody keeps checking my temperature and asking if I am feeling alright. I wonder where I was when everybody must have been gushing at Aakir during his maturation, becauseI didn't even get the hint of him getting sick during his maturation. Maybe because Aakir's transformation occurred during the night time when everybody was asleep. It doesn't help that Aakir doesn't join for supper tonight. The over joyous mood seems redundant without his presence.

Before I know it, it is night and I am feeling as dandy as I have been feeling the whole day. I am itching to ask when will I start getting sick but Aakir is still brooding in his room and everybody else has retired to their rooms. Mother was insisting to sleep in my room tonight but I assured her that I'll call her if I get even slightly sick. This time she gets easily appeased.

It's almost around two AM in the morning and I lay wide awake, waiting for something that doesn't seem to be approaching. Is this even the maturation event? Why am I not feeling even slightly discomforted? Then I start feeling dread. What if I am not getting mature and this is just a fluke? Father seemed quite pleased, though I cannot be sure with his stoic face, but I do believe that he seemed a little proud of the development. I really, really don't want to let him down. At exactly the moment I am thinking of him, a knock appears at my door and upon revelation, I see that it's my father. I immediately sit up on the bed and switch on the bed side lamp. Solemnly, father comes and sits beside me on the bed.

"Did I disturb you?" is the first thing he asks.

"No." I tell him, actually a little pleased that he is here to see me, even at this ungodly hour.

He nods, "How are you feeling?" he asks.

Throughout the day, he has been the only one who hasn't been pestering me about if I am feeling sick, or constantly checking up on my sick-looking state. It isn't in his nature to coddle, I know that. I did not even expect him to inquire about my state, even at such an important stage. But here he is, asking me how I am feeling. And nothing can be more pleasant to me at this particular moment, to know that he is worried, even apprehensive of my future. It's quaintly welcoming.

"Alright." I tell him, a smile developing on my face, "I don't feel weird at all."

He frowns and places his palm on my forehead, probably checking my temperature. I don't even get annoyed by the gesture. Probably because it's my father. He nods his head slowly as his hand retreats.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"What if...what if I am not maturing? It's been almost twelve hours and I don't feel anything bad like everybody keeps saying."

"You are maturing." He says simply.

I swallow and nod at his conclusion. If he says so then that's what's happening. My father is seldom wrong. He remains in the room for some time, both of us silent. The silence is not unwelcoming. Gradually he commands that I inform him if I start feeling sick. He pats my shoulder once, says goodnight and departs from my room. I sleep peacefully through the night.

The next morning, I feel absolutely healthy. Aakir is up and about, but sulking. The elders, except for my father, look a little worried to see my perfect state. Oh, the irony. I even hear Aakir mumbling under his breath, 'Why do I have to be different every time?' He thinks that it is only him who got sick. I assuage him, informing that it's me who is being different this time. He looks dubious, but accepts my explanation. I do not know what is wrong. Aakir's maturation, or anybody else's maturation for that matter, hasn't taken more than ten hours at the most. Here I am, almost seventeen hours after the development of fever and as healthy as everyone, removing my clothes, so I can parry against father. Just like yesterday, I remain pale and slightly sweating.

Aakir reveals to me that he is going to meet his partner today again. Silvia is the name he tells me. He is bailing on our mothers for that.

"I thought she sort of rejected you?" I ask, still moving about in my pyajamas. I am given a holiday, considering my state. Or rather the state I am expected to be in.

Aakir frowns, "She didn't reject me. She just kept saying that I am a kid." He said, looking annoyed. "She did tell me where she resides. That counts for something, neh?"

It's much later in the evening when Aakir returns home. His mood is not any better, but he sounds optimistic for the future. His partner, Silvia, is four years elder to us and in her final year of graduation. He is happy that he has managed to get her phone number, but utterly displeased that she treats him like a kid. I tell himthat technically we are kids if compared to people four years elder to us. He simply frowns. Nothing seems bizarre to him of his situation. It has me slightly on edge. I would never want to be in this kind of a situation where I have to convince an older woman that I am worthy of her. Aakir is fine by it. He has never been the type of guy who runs after girls, even though he may ogle plenty, but he is a romantic at heart from what I know. He probably figures his story to be part of a fairytale or something.

Night rolls overand I am still feeling fit. My father enquires about my health again and this time even he seems a little confounded by the lack of any unpleasantness happening to me. Everyone is a little worried and their concern rubs off on me. My mother is no longer in a joyous mood and Terry uncle is frowning constantly. There is no party decided for the weekend, not even for Aakir, when he himself expresses that he is not in the mood. I don't know what to make of this anymore. Not to make it a bigger deal than it already is, father gives off a subtle order to everyone to go back to sleep. Everybody complies and I sulk back into my room. I am beginning to believe this is all a gaffe. Sleep obviously doesn't come to me because of my apprehensive state.

It starts at around midnight, approximately thirty four hours after I started to run a temperature. I am sprawled on my bed in the darkness, the constant sound of clock ticking being the only sound in my room. A slight burning sensation begins in the pit of my stomach. It is probably radiating from my liver, I conclude. I almost sigh in pleasure at the discomforting feeling. I didn't realize how worried I had become over not getting sick. But gradually my pleasure subsides. The burning sensation becomes steadily uncomfortable by the second, making me feel as if I am having a heart burn. Maybe I am.

I lay quietly for half an hour in the discomfort. Then another sensation begins. This one seems to be emanating from my diaphragm, spreading over my chest. It is not exactly a nauseous feeling, but something that may lead to it. My chest involuntarily constricts, forcing me to sit up to ease the tenderness. I do not know how long the distress continues as I sit against the head board. I feel my breath becoming shallow, my mouth drying. The sudden footsteps outside my door jolt me. They are uncharacteristically loud and not on a pleasant end. The footsteps coincide with my fast heartbeat and before I know it I can feel my booming heart beats in my ear. My eyes turn rheumy due to the sudden hellish feeling overpowering me. The acrid taste on my tongue coincides with an unpleasant ringing of my ears. The knock on my door is incredibly loud, making me wince. Dizzily, I watch as my father comes into view. He sees me, his eyes widening. I only manage to gesture with my hand and he is beside me in an instant, picking me effortlessly and dragging me towards the adjoining bathroom. I reach the toilet just in time for me to dry heave violently.

I'll spare the gory details but just divulge that not every time my heaves were dry. It's after a couple of hours, I think, I am not sure of time, whenmy stomach tames down a little. I sorely regret my dinner. Almost unaware of my surrounding, I clean myself up with some help from father. I feel like a toddler again as he supports my weight and wipes off my face, as the vertigo doesn't allow me to be thoroughly conscious.I feel dizzy and every single sound is too loud for my sensitive ears, making me grimace all the time. Soon, I am settled in the bed, a glass of water in my hand. I am sweating profusely, the sickening feeling still rumbling in my chest. My breaths are faster than usual. But I am assured that I will not need the toilet bowl again.

"My head's spinning." I mumble, closing my eyes.

"It'll pass away." My father says gently.

These are the first words spoken since he has come. Through my dreary state, I let myself feel happiness that my father is right next to me. It's even better than having mother take care of me.

"Why do we get sick?" I moan, shaking my head to get rid of the heaviness.

"Your body is going to adapt to the changes. These are just the side effects."

"I didn't sign up for this." I say.

Father chuckles quietly.

"What changes will occur?" I whisper after a while, willing myself to be distracted from the queasy feeling.

Father sighs, "It's basically the changes in our nervous system." He explains, "Our neurons are going to undergo spontaneous mutation. The sensory ones, so you're more sensitive to everything around,-"

"Yes, everything sounds very loud." I interrupt.

Father places something wet on my forehead and continues to speak, "More nerves are conforming and accommodating, so to let you provide the sensations. It'll allow you to sense the waves with wavelengths matching that of the emotions of people. That's how you'll be able to sense their auras. New cells must be forming, so they can jointly work and allow you to partly convert to an animal. The adaption is going to force some unpleasantness."

"Technical." I mumble.

"I know, son." He says, dabbing my forehead with the wet cloth. I don't even know where he got it from.

"I don't sense anything." I say after sometime.

"You will, once you sleep and then get up."

"I don't think I can sleep like this." I moan, helplessly squirming to make the suffocation and dizziness go away.

"It'll be okay." Father whispers. Then it's quiet and eventually, I do fall into a slumber, albeit in an uncomfortable one. My father stays with me the whole night. And he is still there, as wide as a clock, looking after me even at the crack of dawn. It's after a long time my father's actions have showed me the affection he holds for his son, for me. I reprimand myself mentally, to think that my father can love me any less. If he did, then he would not be sitting right here, right now beside me. Nothing can make me happier than that knowledge. Nothing, except for the strong, dominating power waves I feel, exuding from my father's body.

I can feel his aura.

  4. A Beautifully Wrapped Horror

"I think the centaur thing was cool." Faith says, taking a sip from her drink.

I snort, "Centaur? What are you, five?"

She huffs, "Whatever the hell is it that we shift into."

"A hybrid horse.Parahuman. Anything. But a 'centaur'? Please." I say. Thenshrugging, continue, "But it's pretty useless to get horsy legs."

"Not to mention, ugly." She nods.

I roll my eyes. Even in the animal form Faith wants to look pretty.

"Animal legs are only marginally faster than our human legs." I continue, "I prefer to flux only my arms, for defense and offense purposes."

"Like Nikolai uncle does." She gives me a deadpan stare.

"Hey," I defend, "Dad doesn't have any fixed animal copyright. Sometimes he converts fully too. I, on the other hand, prefer my arms in the form of talons. They are sharp, swift, painful, for the others obviously," I give off a sadistic grin,"and it allows the rest of my body to remain fairly human. Not to mention, I don't have to get naked to revert to that form."

Faith shakes her head, "Ugly."

I roll my eyes again, "It's not ugly." In fact, I find it a beautiful sight but I refrain from mentioning so. "I'd show you, but..." I trail off, looking sideways, urging Faith to follow my line of vision.

Aakir and Silvia are sitting next to each other in plastic chairs.The bonfire, in the center of our custom made circle of the yard illuminates their faces as they talk and laugh. I was surprised when Aakir announced that his partner will be joining us for the night. Since she is a human and fairly new to us, there are strict orders to not display our therian nature. Don't want to scare the human partner now, do we?

Faith grins, nodding, "She is pretty." She says, approvingly, "And quite sensibly mature."

I laugh, "Aakir disdains that. She treats him like a kid, he says. I do not know how he managed to persuade her to join us tonight."

Faith shrugs, "I am not surprised, save for the fact that she agreed to visit on a Monday night."

"You're here on a Monday night," I point out, "And why not surprised otherwise? She is four years elder to Aakir. Even as a guy, I'd think five times before dating someone four years younger to me."

"First of all," Faith starts, "I do not think she has come as Aakir's date tonight. She made that pretty clear before the start of supper."

"But she is here because of Aakir. Obviously they'll end up dating in future." I reason.

"Yeah, that's because, second of all, she can't resist the bond. She may be human, but that doesn't mean she can't sense the compatibility she is acquiring with Aakir. Or is going to acquire thereof."

"Uh..." I falter, "The...if the partner is human," I ask her, knowing she'd know best as her own partner is human, "Does she feel the same sort of attraction as we do?"

"Should be asking me that." Says Rahul, as he drags his chair next to Faith. Faith gives him a sweet smile and a quick peck on the lips.

"Well, yeah, did you feel attracted to Faith from the start?" I ask him.

He nods, "Yup. The fact that she is beautiful helped a lot." He grins.

I reply with an awkward grin of my own. I may be curious, but not for the mushy things. Especially if it concerns my elder female cousin's love life. I have never been particularly romantic, so it just gets a little weird as I witness how much Rahul is enamored with Faith.

"I am sure," Rahul continues, "that Silvia must be feeling attracted to Aakir, despite the age difference."

"She wouldn't be here otherwise." I nod understandingly. Then I grimace, "I still wanted to show-"

"-how well you're adapting to your new abilities. We know, we know." Faith says, "We are seeing that since yesterday. So, don't fret, that you can't show us because of a human here."

I scowl at her, "I was talking about the talons, Faith. I hadn't showed you that."

Rolling her eyes, Faith says, "Let's join them." Then she gets up and makes way towards where Aakir and Silvia are sitting. Rahul and I sigh simultaneously. We get up and follow Faith.

My family's idea of a 'party' is just a simple gathering, with munificent dinner and a bon fire to extend the night as everybody continue with their endless gossip. We are allowed to invite our friends if we wish. Faith and Rahul can't really call their friends all the way from Riga. They just decided to overstay and will be leaving first thing in the morning tomorrow. Aakir and I may be having a magnificent friend circle at school, but we still do not feel any predisposition to include any one of them in our family unions. Plus it's eccentric to invite high schoolers for a decent party on a Monday night. I did consider inviting Natalie, but digressed. I may like her but she is part of the cliché crowd in our school and is not particularly trustworthy. I do not wish my family matters to be publicized. Also, Neal's warning has been ringing in my ears incessantly. He is not wrong, if I think with an open mind. Natalie has definitely become friendlier towards me since the last week when my popularity has been reaching the sky. I do not think the reason behind her friendliness is unbeknownst to me anymore. I still will not give up on a date with her if I get a chance. I do plan to ask her in the week. Anything is better than nothing, right?

Aakir and I did not go to school today. I am too excited to not keep testing my newfound abilities and Aakir is too anxious to not be in the good books of his newfound partner. Taking pity on us, our elders allowed us to remain at home and instead planned a gathering for the night. By the looks of it, I do not think Aakir and I will be able to make it to school tomorrow as well. Both of us are not complaining.

The night flows by, everybody quite impressed with Silvia. She definitely is something to be looked up to. Pretty, bold and plenty sensible. By the talks of it, she is quite fascinated by Aakir's eye color, as everyone always is. For the first time, Aakir is happy for his weirdness because of his partner's attention. He'll look proud every time Silvia is complimented.

I find it too soppy for my taste.

As predicted, we bail school on Tuesday as well. Aakir's plans of meeting Silvia are squished when the latter informs she'd be busy in her college. I am sadistically glad as I get to practice my newly discovered powers against Aakir. I have realized that our sense of aura is quite helpful during a fight. But the annoying part is that Aakir's astral form doesn't contain his aura. Only his physical body does. So in a parry against him, I have to rely on my other senses.

I'll admit, sensing all the powerful auras of the therians in my house, it is quite overwhelming. There is not a single moment when I cannot sense another presence around me, even if the said company is thirty feet away. And yes, there is no way to distinguish between those auras. The only difference may be the intensity of those auras, but that is also not significant enough to secernate. By far, I can only distinguish my father's aura. His aura is much stronger, much more overwhelming. It is difficult to focus on anybody else's aura when he is around.

And everybody is right about the humans too. Their aura is too much diluted, coming off as feeble waves. On concentrating hard enough, I can slightly distinguish between different humans. Like my mother's aura exudes plain happiness, while Rahul's aura is tamer. Silvia's aura is rather fascinating, in respect with it exuding contentedness. She is definitely one hell of a woman, I decide. That should be blatant as Aakir doesn't deserve anything less.

Come Wednesday, the sudden waves of auras of hundreds of students in school deluge my senses. It becomes implausible to make out which aura belongs to whom; distinguishing between any two is inconceivable. I am twitchy within two minutes of being in the school premises. The amount of waves burdening my senses keeps me keyed up and unusually alert as we walk through the corridor.

"Steady..." Aakir says from beside me, "Don't look so astounded. You'll get used to it."

I immediately rearrange my features, not having realized that I have started expressing my overwhelmed state.

"Now I understand why you used to be on edge all the time when you got matured."

Aakir chuckles, "Yeah, it gets a little distracting. But, as I said, you get used to it." He halts in the corridor suddenly.

"What?" I ask him.

He points towards the empty rack in the corridor, "Where do I get the Monday's Plutocracy from?"

I roll my eyes, "You'll not die if you don't read a week's full of gossip."

"Do they keep copies in the library?" he asks, ignoring my retort.

I shake my head, walking ahead. But I only succeed in taking five, maybe six steps, before halting again. I may havespent all of ten minutes in the school as of todayand within the last few minutes I had become certain that my senses will be loaded with the insignificant, attenuated auras of all the students around. The least I was expecting to be sensing something rather distinctive. Something that catches my attention right away, forcing me to stop dead in my tracks. No doubt it is somebody's aura that has me turning into a statue. The reason for my entire cognizance to be focused on this aura is because of how exceptionally different the aura is.

It definitely isn't anything like the weak auras of humans that I have assumed and witnessed them to possess. This aura is deluging, almost begging to be noticed. The heightened form of a human aura at its best. It gives off a felicitous sense, combined with apprehension. Like a never ending excitement, something to keep you on edge forever. If the aura was limited to only this, I may have overlooked it. But the other aspect of it has me confounded. Apart from exuding the emotional sentiment in such an intense form, this aura also happens to diffuse power profusely. It's shocking how strong it is coming off, almost as overwhelming as my father's. That is saying a lot in my opinion. I am in knowledge of the fact that if your aura exhibits power then it's nearly impossible to express palpable sentiments in your aura. The power always drowns your emotional part. That is usually the case with therians. But the aura I am feeling at the present is radiating a very strong, powerful aura that exhibits happy enthusiasm. I never thought this should be possible. But here I am, standing right at the turn of a corridor, sensing an aura that is a combination of emotions and power. It is baffling.

Not to mention insanely attractive.

I take another second as I realize how much alluring this particular aura feels. Almost molding along with my senses; my aura. A perfect fit. Even without its distinctive feature, this aura feels pleasant in a way I can't explain. It makes me feel content. It feels quaint to be sensing this, to feel satisfied by the mere presence of this aura. As my thoughts progress, I realize where this is leading. It has only been three days since I have matured. It is my first day in school after maturation. It has only been all of ten-fifteen minutes since I am in school. And I have already sensed my partner.

With the pull this aura is exhibiting towards me, I am in no doubt that the delightful aura is in possession of my partner.

I take another second to settle my thoughts over that. I have found my partner. It feels so...surreal. Unrealistic. Aakir was right to say that he can't explain the feeling, because neither can I. You just know that she is the one. Without even exploring all the auras existing in this world, I know that this is the only aura that will be satiating for me. Ignoring the sudden contentment, I focus on the fact that I have found something that I had never dreamt of finding. I can't seem to get over the shock that I have found the one, the one with the perfect congeniality towards me.

This is so cheesy. I cringe.

"What's the commotion for?" Aakir mumbles next to me.

I am partly surprised. I had forgotten that he is standing next to me. He seems oblivious to my mental dilemma. Instead, he is focusing on hearing the sounds coming from the adjoining corridor. The same corridor from where the aura of my partner is exuding. It's then I notice the voices. Our mature therian abilities allow me to hear distant voices clearly. Not at insanely large distances, but twenty feet at most. The voices in the next corridor are not too far. By the sound of it, an argument is going on. But there are too many muffled voices amongst the two vociferated voices. Aakir motions to make way towards the said corridor. Hesitative, almost dreadful, I follow him. I am not so curious about the voices, as I am for finding the owner of the appealing aura. A flash of all the pretty girls I know passes through my mind, Natalie's image dominating the most. It's far too optimistic of me to expect her to be the one exuding such aura, but hey, one can dream, right?

The thoughts of other girls escape my mind as we enter the corridor. Now the aura of my partner feels much closer, almost tangible, as if I can stretch my hand and touch it. I again marvel over how strong this aura is. It's nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else.

The corridor is occupied by herds of students, all forming a circle around the main event going on in the center. The aura beguiles me, persuading me to keep moving towards it. It seems to be coming right from the center, from the ones who have attracted a crowd so early in the morning. I walk forward, gently shoving aside some of the students. Soon, I am next to people standing in the center.

Ray stands a little off to the edge, his eyes downcast as he simply hears the commotion. In the center there is Francis, trying to pacify an aggravated Duato. He is failing, as I see Duato continuing to sneer at his opposition.

The overwhelming aura is in fact coming off from the said opposition.

I look at who is against Duato. Neal stands against Duato, coolly returning a cold stare. A guy I have never seen before stands next to Neal, in support I guess. Behind Neal, his girlfriend, the girl who is always with him, Tanya, stands. Tanya is frowning, clutching the back of Neal's shirt in a gentle hold. She looks worried, her big doe-like eyes darting frantically from Neal to Duato. I focus on her. Flawless skin, cutely short, with dirty blonde ringlets falling down to her shoulders. She is very cute, as I have said before.

But she is also not the owner of the attractive aura that I sense. In fact, my partner's aura seems to be emanating from somewhere right in front of her.

Like a deer caught in headlights, I move my eyes towards Neal. He stands, proudly, his chin jutting out as he stares down Duato.

"Give me proof," Neal starts, still staring at Duato, "that what I have written is wrong. And I'll definitely make amends." The so attractive aura reverberates with his each enunciated word. It feels exceptionally pleasant. Does that mean...? The aura I sense to be fit with mine is his aura? What...?

I take a step back, as if punched in the gut.

What is happening? Not really sure, I continue to watch the tumult in bafflement.

"The hell I'll give you proof!" Duato snarls, stepping up to Neal's face. "You bloody have no right to write nonsense about me!"

"Actually," Neal says in a tired, but loud voice, as if he couldn't be more bored than he already is, "I do have the right."

"I'm going to punch your 'right' so hard, Stephens." Duato says, his eyes bulging as he threatens Neal.

Even through my astonished state, I feel a twinge of irritation at his threat.

"I'll like to see you try, buddy." Neal says, a little irritation seeping in his demeanor as well, "I'll shove my next newspaper so far down your throat you'll be practically inhaling lead."

Sudden silence falls after Neal's threat. It is no surprise that everyone is shocked. Hell, my already shocked stance enhances after watching a crack in his usually casual demeanor. It is probably the first time I am watching Neal get angry at something. He is always been that laid back guy, who doesn't get affected by the ongoing events around him, no matter how severe they may be. Duato must have really pissed Neal off to extract such a reaction.

"Bastard...!" Duato says indignantly.

Before anyone can comprehend, he takes a step forward and socks his drearily stronger (for a human) punch right into Neal's jaw. A sickening sound develops over flesh connecting flesh. People gasp as Neal's face snaps sideways with the force, but surprisingly he doesn't stagger at all. His balance is not even slightly disrupted despite the strength of the punch. Not just the people around, but Neal himself is shocked at the assault as he takes a moment to raise his hand and hold his terse jaw, slightly rubbing it. Neal's friend, the guy I have never seen before, lets out a cry of astonishment and impulsively pushes against Duato. By now, Francis is out of his stupor and he steps in to prevent the commencing fight. Sadly, Francis is not strong enough. Duato, in his fury, pushes with mighty strength against Neal's friend. The guy, taken by surprise, stumbles back and falls with a painful impact on the ground, a foot away. The students standing around the area squeal and move out of the way.As everyone's attention is on the guy who has fallen on the ground, most of them miss it when Neal, as calm as ever, takes a step towards Duato. Everybody turn back towards Neal in time to watch him swing his arm back and punch Duato, right at his nose.

More gasps follow. But they are gasps of astonishment for a very different reason.

Duato is only an inch or so shorter than me, but is quite bulky. He is a sports person and someone who likes to work at the gym. In gist, he is not a weak guy, far from it. Neal, on the other hand, is shorter and lankier, and is amongst the crowd who can't fight to save their lives. Yet, we all watch as Duato unsteadily lurches backward, unable to stand the power of the punch unleashed by Neal. More shocked voices follow as Duato completely falls back on his buttocks, his hands covering the nose that has just been punched. Francis fails at supporting him.

Neal takes another step forward. Outwardly, he looks as calm as he always does but it's not tough to figure out that he is boiling with rage inside.

"You want to try more?" Neal asks, looming above Duato.

I anticipate Duato's next move. He is a short tempered guy, driven by his impetuousness. As much shocked I may be, I still do not want to see him harming Neal. As soon as Duato gets up, probably intending to butt his head against Neal's abdomen, I step forward and immediately grab him.

"Let go!" he shouts, feral. Francis comes to aid, holding Duato's one arm to prevent him from getting loose. His help is not required, but I don't point that out. Duato tries to swat my hands away, but it's pretty useless, especially now that I have matured. He is no match for my strength. I manage to slip between Duato and Neal, pushing against Duato to keep him at bay.

"Bastard!" Duato says again, looking over my shoulder at Neal. I falter when I see streams of blood flowing down from his crooked nose to his open mouth. Neal's punch was definitely much stronger than I had made out. Duato again tries to get free of my hold and swats his free hand, which is not held by Francis, behind me. I push against him forcefully, making his back bang at the wall. He looks startled by the sudden jolt and turns his glare at me. He grips my arm that is keeping him at bay and motions to pull it off him in anger.

"Don't." I snap at him. My tone comes out ruder than intended.

Duato halts, surprised. Then he sneers at me, "What the hell?" he screeches in my face, "You're siding with that bastard?"

I feel the aura of the supposed 'bastard' right behind me. Even in flight it is overwhelming, not allowing me to focus on Duato's weak aura. I feel Neal's aura taking a step closer behind me.

"Maybe because," Neal starts from behind me, "most people know that I do not lie. Definitely not in my paper."

Duato squirms in my hold as he glares at Neal.

"Stop it." I say, turning my head a little towards Neal. My tone is far gentler to him than it was to Duato.

"Let go of me, you traitor!" Duato shouts.Apparently, he notices my change of tone as well.

I sigh, "You need the nurse." I tell him, loosening my hold a little. He tries to take advantage of my loose hold, making me tighten again.

"You'll regret your actions, Stephens!" Duato says, still looking at Neal.

I feel Neal's aura moving backwards, away from me, "In a much lesser form as compared to you." He says quietly and I feel him walking away.

When I feel Neal's aura disappear from the corridor, I let go of Duato. In anger, he pushes against me. His push is useless obviously. Noticing that his strength is far inferior to mine, he angrily turns away and walks towards the other end of the corridor. The crowd lets another five minutes pass in stupor. Francis, Ray and our other friends say nothing. They let the event sink in their minds. The warning bell rings and everybody starts to disperse. Ray, Francis, Aakir, I and two of our female friends start walking together towards our class. Now they all are expressing their views on what just occurred. For the life of me, I can't make myself concentrate even tiniest bit on their conversation. Eventually my walk slows down and I let my friends walk ahead.

I believe myself to not be over the shock as of yet, as I can hardly comprehend my own thoughts. I feel, than see, Aakir's aura lagging behind with me.

"I know you're shocked." He mutters as we increase the distance between ourselves and our friends. Aakir suspires, "I know that I am shocked. Neal doesn't seem as strong at all as he just displayed. I really want to read what he wrote in The Plutocracy this last Monday."

I can care less about Neal's strength as of now, and even less about his paper. I have more pressing matters.Maybe something like, I don't know, that I have found my partner to be a guy?

The knowledge finally sinks in.

My partner is a guy. A guy?

I panic.

I turn around and bolt towards the opposite direction. I hear Aakir calling me but I do not respond. Have I mistaken? Is it even possible for us therians to commit mistakes? There is no doubt in my mind that that aura belongs to Neal. It practically vibrates when Neal speaks. But...maybe it is a mistake. I recall the commencement of it all, but cannot figure where I could have wrongly guessed my assumptions. His aura is definitely attractive to me, to the point that I can assuredly state that it is the aura of my partner. But isn't your partner supposed to be your better half? How can it be a guy for me? How can it-damn it!

I reach the boy's toilet and lock myself in a cubicle. The bell for the first class goes off, but I can care less about it right now.

I rub my eyes, trying to get rid of the jumbled thoughts. Ineluctably, I start to think of Neal. Particularly his aura. Through my panic-stricken state, I yearn to sense it again. And that thought alone has me on edge. What the hell is happening? This is not right. This shouldn't be right. The same sex people becoming partners?That is unheard of. My cult maybe small, but I have read various historical books concerning therians. And not even in one was anywhere a mention of such a situation. And why would it be? It simply wouldn't, because it shouldn't. It's not natural for two people of the same sex to be together. It's instinctive to be partnered with the opposite sex, considering the romantic inclination it disposes.

But then I wonder...is this 'partner' thing of therians even supposed to be romantic? Everybody says that your partner is chosen based on the compatibility, the congeniality between the two. It solely depends on our ability to live in harmony with that one person. Nobody ever said it is supposed to be romantic...but partners do end up as each other's better half, in the romantic sense.

Finding one's partner is supposed to be joyful, something that is celebrated in my family. Even Gwen aunt's addition to our family upon Terry uncle finding her was celebrated. Thinking of the expectations of my family, I panic some more. What will they think? Would they have an answer as to why my partner is a guy? Maybe...maybe it is all a gaffe. But I still find myself yearning to sense Neal's aura again.

Shakily, I fumble with my pocket and take out my cell phone. I dial the number of the first person I can think of, my father. I do not even pause to consider his reaction. If...if inevitably Neal is my partner...then will my father accept it?

I freeze on the question lingering in my mind. I do not freeze in shock because I expect my father's disapproval. I feel astonished that I do not even pause to question, that before anybody else do I myself accept Neal as my partner?

I am not gay; have never felt even slightly inclined towards men.I see no reason why I should be comfortable with the thought of another guy being my partner. But then again...bond between partners doesn't necessarily have to be romanticized...right? I do not have any example to support my hypothesis. In fact, my subliminal attraction towards Neal's aura speaks volumes against my hypothesis.

I hit the call button on my phone.

Father picks up on the third ring, "Hello?" his tone sounds neutral, as it always does. But being with him as long as I have been, I can sense the concern lining his undertone.

"Dad?" I say, my voice shaking a little.

"Josh? What happened?" he pauses, "You should be in class right now."

I check my wrist watch to see it's a little over eight AM. My father must have been getting ready to leave the house for his job as well.

"Dad..." I start, not really knowing where to start off.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

I do not know how to respond to that question.

"Josh?" my father asks with a little alarm in his voice.

"My..." I clear my throat around the sudden lump, "My partner is a guy."

"...What?"

I never thought I'd see the day when I'll be able to make out that my father is shocked. But his tone, so unlike his usually stoic tone, expresses large amounts of stupefaction. Something I never thought I'll ever witness.

"I sensed the aura of my partner today." I explain shakily, "The aura belongs to a guy."

I hear nothing on the other end. The silence continues for so long that I think father has disconnected the call. I pull my cellphone away from my phone to see that father is indeed still on the line.

"Dad?" I say.

"Yes?" father says, as if he wasn't silent in shock a mere moment ago.

"I am not gay." I blurt out like an idiot.

My father remains silent for another moment. That sole moment feels so long that I start to get agitated.

"Where are you?" father asks in a neutral voice.

"Boy's toilet." I mumble.

"He is in your school?"

I nod even though he can't see me, "Yes," I say.

"Alright." Is his simple reply.

Another bout of silence commences and I don't know what to make of my father's response. Is that it? His reaction? It would have been so much better if he had expressed anything, even it is disappointment. He doesn't even express that I might have made a mistake.

"Is it possible?" I find myself asking him.

He remains silent, apparently having no answer. After a moment he says, "Attend your classes. Don't skip them."

With that he bids me a goodbye and disconnects the phone.

I let my distress overpower me. Not only because once more my father has denied me information but also at the letdown that I am imagining in his ignorance. A parent always expects the best from his own child. I can't help but feel that I fail my father every time, even if I don't do it intentionally. I rub my face with the palm of my hand and notice another presence a little distance away from me, but definitely inside the boy's toilet. I feel power in the aura and know immediately that it is Aakir. It is a little distracting, not to mention disappointing, to not be able to guess since when is he exactly standing there. My disorderly thoughts are making me attention deficit. I sigh and open the door of the cubicle I am into step out. There he is, standing next to the mirrors on the other end of the toilet. He has an unreadable expression on his face, but his bizarre eyes are flickering with shock. It's obvious that he has heard my conversation with my father.

He sighs at my sight and after a long moment says, "Who is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I tell Aakir, my voice sounding helpless to even my own ears.

Aakir nods understandingly and sensibly gives me the space that I am seeking. "Let's go. Ms. Sparks may still let us enter the class." He says.

And we are off.

I am brooding the whole day. So is Duato for that matter. He is supposedly ignoring me because I stood against him in the morning. I vaguely hear my friends appeasing Duato. The latter's nose is now heavily bandaged. He is furious but enough tame to not go on a savage rampage. I don't really concentrate on him or our friends much, or actually I can't. The whole dayI am troubled regarding what to expect at home. Numerous times I feel the urge to seek Neal. But I restrain myself. I should consult my parents over this first before proceeding even slightly in Neal's direction. I know for a fact that the more I sense his aura, more irreversible my desire will become. It's enough disturbing to know that I am so hopeful to be in Neal's presence. I do not want the desire to accentuate. I stay clear of the crowded places today, lest I stumble upon the irresistible aura of my partner. My friends assume my low mood to be a result of the tension between myself and Duato. They try to talk to me about it, much to my displeasure. Aakir, bless his heart, steers everyone away from me.

Too soon it is the end of the day. Throughout the day I couldn't wait for the school to end but now that it is over I am not sure if I want to go home. Though nobody is going to be home till the evening, I am still not looking forward to it. Aakir and I silently walk towards the exit of our school. My slowness gifts me with lesser crowd around us as we walk. Suddenly, I can't help but feel slightly gratified that Aakir is right there next to me. The whole day he has been exceptionally considerate, neither letting anyone irk me, nor himself pushing for information. I make a note to thank him later, when I am in a better mood.

"Lichinsky!"

Somebody yells my surname from behind me when we reach the exit doors. Before turning, the full blast of my partner's aura engulfs me. My tensed muscles immediately relax and I am partly surprised with the simple equanimity I feel by sensing the aura again. There is no doubt that he is my partner. I turn back and there is Neal, walking towards us briskly, his sling bag mounted on his right shoulder.

He pauses a step away from us. Doubtful, his eyes dart towards Aakir. Both give each other curt nods. I don't think both of them have ever met before. Then Neal turns to look at me again.

"Hey...You okay?" he asks uncertainly.

An effortless smile makes its way onto my face. "Yeah, man, I am cool." I tell him, my tone quiet.

He nods, his eyes flickering with doubt towards Aakir. I suppose he wishes to talk alone. Sadly, Aakir doesn't get the message and resolutely stands beside me.

"Uh...yeah," Neal says, not entirely comfortable with Aakir around, "I just...I just wanted to thank you. You know...for stopping the fight."

"Oh."

"Yeah, thanks."

I shake my head, "It's alright. Though there really wasn't the need for me to do so," I give off a slight laugh, "You were faring quite well."

Absentmindedly, Neal raises his hand to rub his jaw. I notice then that his jaw contains a bluish bruise on his fair skin. Neal shrugs, "I guess I took him by surprise. Thanks anyway. I didn't even want it to extend as far as it did. So, thanks, for stopping it."

I nod at him, smiling.

"I'll see you around." Neal says. He gives another curt nod to Aakir and then he is off.

Just as his aura disappears towards the parking lot, so does my ephemeral uplifted mood. I start walking towards the gates, Aakir right by my side. We run in silence today but it is not the usual 'I am comfortable with you' silence. It is the 'I am dying to ask something, but I don't want to piss you off' silence. Aakir is seemingly on edge. I suppose the knowledge that my partner is a guy is finally sinking through his thick head. As we break out of the woods into our yard, we pause and collect our breath.

"It's Neal, isn't it?" he abruptly blurts out as we begin to walk across the pasture.

My mouth goes agape as my head snaps towards him. Those are the first words he has spoken to me since our unpleasant and short conversation in the boy's toilet. I didn't expect him to be that quick with his guesswork. He may be my best friend and brother, someone I dearly love but that doesn't mean that he is the brightest bulb around. I certainly didn't expect him to guess spot on. I replay my conversation with Neal only a few minutes ago. I don't think I said or acted in a way that may have given me away. Above all, I don't know how I feel about him knowing who my partner is.

"Don't look so shocked..." Aakir says.

We stand in the middle of our pasture, the alfalfa grass swaying with the wind that is constant out here. I rub my face with my palm again, at loss for words.

"I am actually glad." Aakir blurts again.

That's a new one. I give an incredulous look. His ears tinge pink at my confused stare.

Aakir sighs, "I would have been really pissed if it was Ray. Or worse, someone like Duato."

His sudden confession is so bizarre and out of league for what I have been feeling the whole day. I can't help myself as laughter bubbles in my throat, turning into guffaws as I let myself laugh freely. Out of all the things Aakir can be worried about he is happy that my 'male' partner is someone half as decent as Neal.

My laughter brings a smile on Aakir's face. He starts to shake his head, smiling all the while. Then I sober up and run a hand through my hair shakily. I clear my throat. Aakir senses the abrupt change in my mood as his smile vanishes as well.

"I don't know what went wrong." I say, even now not certain of my thoughts upon the subject.

Aakir rolls his eyes, "Wrong?" he gives an exasperated look, as if I am daft to call this situation wrong.

"You don't think it's wrong?" I deadpan.

He shrugs, "Not if it makes you happy." He frowns, "So...it may not be exactly...uh, natural. But I can care less as long as you're fine with it." He shrugs again.

The heaviness weighing upon me since morning lessens a bit. This is something I was most dreading. The failure of acceptance. But Aakir is here, saying that he accepts me no matter what. Maybe the situation isn't as bad as I feel. But then Aakir is my brother, someone who has been by my side at every stage of my life. Things I couldn't divulge to my parents were expressed to Aakir. And now he doesn't fail me or our friendship. I really, really owe him big time.

"Thanks." I tell him, hoping to express my gratification in that single word.

He smiles back, probably aware of the emotional turmoil within me. I may be amiable, but I am never high at such mawkish conversations. Aakir knows that and I optimistically believe that he understands my gratitude.

He clasps a hand on my shoulder, still smiling, "Come on, let's go inside."

We start walking again.

"So..." I start uncertainly. Aakir is casually walking, his arm thrown on my shoulders like we haven't learnt something life altering today, "How did you figure that it's Neal?"

Aakir shrugs, "You were brooding the whole day. Then suddenly Neal is there, and you're smiling like you couldn't have had the best day." He rolls his eyes.

I feel my ears turning red at his observation.

"Besides," he continues, ignoring my abashed state, "You learnt of your partner after the fight in the morning. So, I had naturally narrowed down the options to the ones involved."

I nod. "It was there I had sensed his aura." I mumble, "At first I thought it's that girl...Tanya? The one who is always with Neal. But apparently I didn't need to look for a girl at all." I say, sarcastically.

Aakir chuckles as we reach our porch, "Well, at least now you have a valid reason to take interest in Neal, unlike me."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Aakir gives me a droll look, "I have been dying to know the source behind Neal's weird aura for over a month. Now that he is...uh, your... uh, partner, I may actually get to know why is his aura different."

I falter, "You..." I clear my throat, "Neal's aura is different to you too?"

I thought his aura felt exceptional to only me because he is my partner. But now that I recall, Aakir has always been wary of Neal's aura since he had matured. It isn't until now I realize that Neal's aura may just not be different to me. Then I falter again. What if it is his difference that has made me get attracted to his aura? Maybe, he isn't my partner. Maybe, his distinctness fooled me into believing that he is my partner.

"It attracts you too?" I question Aakir, my eyes wide as saucers.

Aakir blinks, "What? No!" then he pauses, chewing on his bottom lip, "Doesn't it...doesn't it feel different to you? His aura is not like that of humans." he says, dubious.

I nod, "Yeah, it felt different to me too. But I thought it felt different only to me since I am his...you know..." I trail off.

Aakir sighs in relief, "Thank god. I thought only I can sense the weirdness in his aura."

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, "You don't feel attracted to his aura because of his distinctness?" I clarify, just to be on the safe side.

Aakir rolls his eyes, "Why would I be attracted? My partner is somebody else."

I nod, "It means...that his aura is as I felt it to be. But it only attracts me..." I lay it out, more for my benefit than his.

Aakir rolls his eyes, "A person's aura doesn't feel different just because he or she is your partner. The aura feels the same, but it holds a certain appeal for you if you're the partner."

I nod slowly, "So..."

"So, his aura is different. That is why I was so astounded by his punch in the morning today. I have never heard of him physically working out in school and I certainly didn't expect him to throw that perfect punch. Duato couldn't even stand it. And Duato isn't exactly a weak guy."

I frown at Aakir, "What are you saying? That Neal is not a human?" I snort and roll my eyes. Aakir can be so dramatic at times. But still, I can't help but feel a little defensive over his accusation towards my partner. Towards Neal...not partner. I mean, yeah partner, but...ugh.

Aakir glares at me, "I am just saying that his aura is different, suspiciously so. His strength has just added to my curiosity."

I shake my head, "Neal told me once that he wants to learn certain fighting techniques. Maybe he is taking some defense classes and learnt certain tricks...You need the right technique than strength in a fight anyways." I shrug my shoulders.

Aakir frowns, "If you say so...but that still doesn't explain his aura." He mumbles.

"Well," I start but pause abruptly, tilting my head towards the inside of our house, "Is that mom?" I ask Aakir.

Aakir tilts his head too, seeking the joyous aura of my mother. He looks befuddled as he nods at me. Both of us open the back door and enter our house. Once inside, I can lucidly feel my mother's aura coming from the kitchen. We walk towards it and there she is, leaning over the stove, adorned in an apron.

"Mom?" I say.

Surprised, my mother turns around and then smiles hugely. "You boys are home." She states, smiling so wide that her white teeth beginto blind me. She hastily starts to remove her apron.

"Why aren't you at the shop?" Aakir asks her, as he walks and settles on a stool beside the island.

My mother nonchalantly waves away at him, "Rufina will take care today." She says. She drops her apron on the island and walks towards me. Before I can comprehend, she cradles my head in her small hands, placing one on either side of my face. She gently forces me to bend at her height and I comply. I watch as she happily smiles at me, her usually diluted aura empowering my senses with happy feelings. Then she smacks two sloppy kisses on either of my cheek, no doubt leaving smears of lipstick behind. I wince but there is a smile on my face owing to her sudden affection. She retreats but let her hands cradle my face still, her smile widening more than I thought should have been possible.

"I am so proud of you." She tells me happily.

I manage to raise an eyebrow in question through my surprised state.

"I am so happy for you. So happy that you have found your partner and so soon." She gushes.

My smile and the confused state immediately vanish. Of course. Father obviously must have informed mother of the development. Did he tell her that it is a guy? My mother's felicitous response makes me dubious about that. Why would she be happy if she knows that it is a guy?

"Mom..." I start, placing a hand on her right hand which is placed upon my left cheek. "It's...it's..."

"Yes?" she says still smiling. She then gives me a droll look, "Why the long face all of a sudden?" she taps my cheek once, "It's considered an honor to have a partner, you know. You should be really happy."

"Mom, it's a guy." I tell her, not liking that she may be building castles in the air.

She frowns, but her smile doesn't falter, "I know that. So?"

I stare at her. Did she just say that she knows my partner is a guy? "Mom," I start again, straightening up. Since she is short, she has no choice but to let go of my face, "My partner is a guy." I tell her, enunciating each word.

Mother nods, "Nikolai told me it is a boy."

...okay.

I don't know if I should feel relieved or utterly confused at my mother's reaction. She is seemingly happy that I have found a partner rather than worried about the gender of the said partner.

"Mom," I start again.

"Shush," she says, interrupting me, "Tell me," she continues, her usual joyous stance a little tame now. Even her smile has dimmed a little, but the happiness still shines in her eyes, "Are you ashamed of him?" she asks.

I am taken aback by her question and it doesn't even take me a second before I am saying, "No."

And that's true. The whole day I have been appalled, confused, even afraid, but never once did I feel shame to have Neal as my partner. Hell, I have stood up for him twice since morning, once against Duato and once against Aakir's reasoning. Shame is definitely not something that even fleetingly took over me. Had that been the case then while questioning the acceptance of my partner I would have considered my own acceptance before anybody else's. But I vividly remember being surprised myself that I wasn't even pausing to consider if I want to accept Neal as my partner or not. Because that question is invalid, having only one option to select and that's acceptance.

My mother, satisfied with my answer, smiles again, "Then I see no reason for you to be worrying." She says. I don't reply, mostly because I do not know what to reply. My mother continues to smile at me. Noticing my dubious stance, she sighs, "Josh," she begins again, "I am happy for you as long as you're happy for yourself. If you're doubtful about the reaction of the family then that's the most trivial thing you're focusing on."

Such a reaction is the last thing I have been expecting. It's baffling how casual my mother's demeanor is, but then she is hardly acting any different than Aakir. Just like him she is telling me that she accepts me no matter what. More, she is exultant upon it. I am slightly overwhelmed. I say nothing but just engulf mother's small stature in a hug. Mother coos at me as she pats my back. I rest my chin on her shoulder, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat. It takes me several moments to coax my rheumy eyes. Once I am sure that I will not burst out crying like a baby, I pull back and kiss my mother on the forehead. She pinches my cheek then abruptly turns away, humming to herself. I look around the kitchen and notice that Aakir is not there. He must have left to offer us some privacy.

"I am making your favorite." My mother says proudly, turning back to the stove. Alas, my mother has found another reason to cook a lavish supper. "And," she says, turning back to me, "I want to meet the young boy."

Now that makes me roll my eyes.

My mother gives me a chiding look at my nonchalance, "I am serious, Josh. What's his name?"

"Neal." I mumble, now feeling a little awkward.

"Neal what?"

"Neal Stephens."

Mother hums, smiling. "Is he cute?"

"Mom." I say, exasperatedly.

Mother shrugs innocently, "I am just asking. I am sure you must find him so. He is your partner."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is something uninvited, not to mention unwanted.

"Mom?" I say, resting my elbows on the island, "Don't insinuate romance between us, okay?" I grimace as I say that.

Mother gives me another scolding look, "Then what am I supposed to do? Assume you two to be brothers?"

Her suggestion has me pondering. I, again, believe that this 'partner' thing may not be an indication of the best romantic interest possible to you. Since the whole basis of this is the congeniality between two beings, I assume my companionship with Neal shall satiate the bond. We are both guys. Both are straight, at least I definitely am. It is against nature to be inclined romantically towards each other. Sure, there are gay people in the world and I have nothing against them. It's their life and their choice to spend their lives with whoever they want. That still doesn't mean that it is a natural form of mating. So, I suppose that our 'partner' bonding doesn't necessarily have to be inclined towards that. Maybe...maybe we can become close friends. Maybe I can come to love him as a brother while remaining in a domestic partnership with him. That is certainly a possibility. Because for the life of me I can't imagine spending my whole life without Neal's aura around me.

"Maybe," I voice my thoughts, "We'll become as close as brothers."

My mother stops her cooking and looks at me, "I was being sarcastic, Josh."

Oh.

I clear my throat, "Yeah, but we don't have to be... romantic or whatever towards each other. We can stay as close friends...very close friends..." I mumble at the end.

Out of nowhere my mother bursts into laughter, her laugh chiming in the silent house. She sobers up when she notices my serious gaiety.

"Um," she begins, trying to refrain from smiling but terribly failing so, "Maybe." She gives in but her jesting smile speaks the opposite. "You should ask Nikolai. He knows better of therian traditions." She says.

The name of my father immediately squishes the hope I have come to feel since at home. I am still dreadful of his reaction. Out of everyone it's his approval I seek the most.

"How did he react...uh, about this?" I ask mother.

Mother ponders, stirring the stew on the stove. She simply shrugs, "Like he always does." She turns to look at me, "He just informed me and then he was off doing other work."

"He sounded shocked on the phone."

My mother snorts elegantly, "He lookedas stoic as he always does when he told me."

"Do you think..." I start, hesitative, "Do you think he doesn't approve?"

My mother stops her stirring. She looks surprised when she turns to look at me again, "Why would he disapprove?"

I snort, just like my mother, "Isn't it obvious?"

Mother shakes her head, "You think he'll suddenly become judgmental because of something as fleeting as a question of someone's gender?"

I refrain from commenting on that, "Guess I'll know when he'd be back in the evening."

"Actually," mother starts, looking sheepish, "He won't be back until the weekend."

I feel my jaw dropping, "What? Why? Where did he go?"

Mother shrugs, "After he informed me about your partner, he told me he has to leave. Probably on some sudden work trip." She rolls her eyes, "He didn't tell me the details, or rather I didn't ask for it. I think he has gone to Daugavplis. I was quite excited and couldn't really focus on what he was saying." She admits.

Damn it. Of all the times my father can go to some far away city is when I am thoroughly anxious to know his view points. I do not want to call him and seek his approbation. I want to do that face to face, in person. My father is not a phone person anyways. The conversation will be silent or one sided for the most part of it. No. Irrespective of his approval or disapproval, I want to face his reaction first hand in person. I feel a little twinge of irritation. I am sure my father must know how apprehensive I must be due to my sudden predicament. He couldn't have decided upon a worse time to leave me hanging.

"Josh?"

My mother's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look at her to find her still smiling at me.

"Your father and I, both of us, can't be more proud of you." She says.

And for the time being,I cling to that simple sentence until I can get a solid proof.

  5. My Maladroit Efforts

I usually believe that the virtue of my forbearance defines me greatly. It also displays my perseverance, promising my interest till the zenith point. I take great pride in my persistence.Butas I have already mentioned a few times before, my family is not a very great fan of my patient curiosity. It is something that I have never understood. But now I know the reason why.

"You must at least put in some effort, Josh. Waving at him every day is not going to give you answers."

That is Aakir.

I never thought that it's possible for me to be irked by him. By Aakir. I mean, seriously, Aakir? Isn't he like the epitome of pacification at its best? Yet, here he is, persuading me incessantly to get to know my partner at a more personal level. His curiousness to learn about Neal appears more heightened than my interest. Seriously, it seems like Neal is his partner, not mine.

"You mean that it is not going to give YOU any answers." I say, pointing at him.

He snorts, "I am beginning to doubt that he is your partner." He mumbles, "I mean, even after a week I can't bear to be away from Silvia constantly."

"I meet Neal every day, Aakir." I say, though I do feel a pang in my chest.

It's been over a week since I learned of my partner. I have taken every chance to encounter him in the hallways, wave at him, sometimes strike a vague conversation with him. Just like we used to; except it's more frequent now. It's peculiar that our constant acquaintanceship is not as sating as I had presumed. Just like Aakir, I yearn to be around my partner. And unlike Aakir, I wish to be only close friends with Neal, nothing more, even though most of my family keeps insinuating otherwise. But nonetheless, my rapport with Neal is not even close to be labeled as friends. Yes, we talk. Yes, we get along. But we don't talk as I talk to Aakir or anybody else who may be close to me. There is a certain edge of formality in our acquaintanceship. Maybe that is why we are still acquaintances, I reason in my head sarcastically. And though I consider myself patient enough, I am still getting restless, wanting Neal's aura to be a constant by my side.

I hear Aakir snort next to me, "And I meet my math teacher everyday too." He retorts.

I rub my face tiredly, sighing all the while. I look around once, just to be certain we are alone in the corridor. "I don't know how to go about it." I admit, "I mean, Neal and I have been on talking terms for years now. Wouldn't it be a little weird if I go and say to him, 'Hey Neal, want to be my best friend from now on?'" I snort, "That'll earn me the prickliest pick-up line of the century." I end in my sarcastic tone.

"You are such a retard." Aakir mutters, shaking his head, "You can ask him for a coffee or something?"

I glare at him, "We are not gay!" I whisper-yell at him, "Don't expect me to ask him out!"

Aakir rolls his eyes, "So, two guys sharing conversation over coffee is gay now?" he snorts, "Kids these days." He mutters.

"Just shut up, Aakir." I continue to glare at him, "I am not doing it."

He raises and drops his arms in exasperation, "Then at least manage to hold a conversation with him for more than two minutes at least! Like this, you're never going to get close to him. He is not going to disclose anything about him if you remain at this level with him."

There it is. The main reason Aakir so desperately wants me to consort with Neal. He is dying to know about Neal, to guess what results into him possessing such a bizarre aura. Aakir expects me to find something odd about my partner that may explain the oddity about the aura he exudes.

I am thoroughly ticked off.

I am usually curious myself. But this is my partner we are talking about, not some experiment. I have expressed my distaste towards Aakir's pushiness more times than I can remember in the last week. He chooses to remain oblivious to my thundering choler against him. He even told me once that I am not supporting his curiosity because it is my partner who is involved and I am tending to become more defensive against any sort of accusation towards my partner. I am defensive alright, but much more irritated because even after knowing the reason behind my distaste, Aakir hasn't given up on pushing me to know Neal personally.

"I am not going to get close to him for your benefit. Hold your horses." I tell him, still glaring.

Aakir sighs, "You can at least talk to him about Duato. That'd be a conversation starter."

My left eye twitches as I resist the urge to sock Aakir in the face. He is itching to know about that as well. About what is it that has made Neal so much anti-Duato. Okay, I'll admit I am curious about that one at least. Neal has never gone out of his way to be offensive to someone. From what I have learned, he wrote in exceptional detail about the wrongdoings committed by Duato, some remotely bizarre things. That resulted in the fight between the both of them last week where I had interrupted. Duato's retaliation has seemingly infuriated Neal more. This week he again wrote in great lengths in The Plutocracyabout the wrongly assumed assets of our school, emphasizing strongly on Duato. Duato expressed his rage to our friends, announcing that he'll, quoting him, 'tear Neal apart'. I believe it's a good thing Duato and I aren't on talking terms anymore, else I have very colorful words for him. Students, especially our so called friends, are not stupid enough to stand against Neal. Neal has official permission to run his paper. Till he doesn't write lies in his paper he wouldn't be denied his right to keep publishing his paper. Duato may speak at length about how unfair Neal is being but he still hasn't put forth any proof against whatever Neal has mentioned in his paper. Obviously people know who to side with. Duato noticed the silence of his 'friends' and decided to disappear amongst the background as well. At least this week he has been relatively tame, probably hoping to become invisible to Neal.

But unlike Aakir I am not really interested in Duato or what he has done to make Neal dislike him so much. I only have a fleeting interest in the incentive that is making Neal sprout against Duato. And that will be explained more by the working of Neal's brain rather than the actions committed by Duato. Now that my partner is Neal, Aakir suddenly expects me to be glued to The Plutocracy and take word by word account of whateveris being written by my supposed partner. Neal may be my partner but that doesn't mean that I'll suddenly become pretentious and express my likeness for his paper. I never liked ThePlutocracy and nothing can make me like it either. Not even the fact that it's the creation of my partner.

"You'll at least get to know him a little." Aakir continues, looking beyond exasperated.

Yes, I may at least get slightly closer to Neal if I ask him something personal. Asking about his thoughts that are making him write against Duato are somewhat personal, right? Aakir's suggestion, though not very appealing, is suddenly starting to look alright.

Or I am just getting desperate.

"What's the bloody problem in talking about something different than your usual, 'Hi Neal, bye Neal'?" Aakir continues. "I hope it's not your pride you're worried about."

I give him a condescending stare. "What am I, twelve? That I wouldn't talk to him, unless he talks to me first? Don't think that low of me." I snap.

Aakir chuckles, "Then what is it?"

I stay silent for several moments.

"Josh?" he drawls when I don't answer.

"I just want father to return home first." I blurt out and then I wince.

Aakir tsk's but then sighs, "Nikolai uncle is not going to be against this, Josh."

I huff, "How the hell do you know that? He hasn't even contacted me since he has gone away."

"Josh..." Aakir starts in a tired voice, "You keep trying so hard to impress Uncle. What you don't know is that he never expects you to prove yourself to him."

"And you know that, how? Had a heart to heart with my father?" I say sarcastically. It's not just me. Father doesn't express to or talk overtly with anyone in the house, so it's impossible for Aakir to be second guessing these things and worse – persuading me with these guesses.

"It's understandable." He snaps, "But apparently your skull is too thick for that." He huffs in annoyance, "So, what? You're not going to talk to Neal till your daddy gives a green signal?" he says in an annoyingly kiddy voice, trying to rile me up. "It's just bloody 'talking', Josh." He says in his normal voice, "Simple talking. You need your father to return so you can start a simple conversation with Neal?"

Well...he has a point.

My father has mysteriously disappeared since the day I informed him of my partner. Mom says that he has gone on a work trip with his colleagues. But a work trip of more than one week? He has never been gone that long. When I asked mother again, she seemed dubious. Then she disclosed that father is not exactly out on a 'work' trip per se but has some important engagement to take care of. She didn't inform me of the details, saying that she herself doesn't know much.

I know she is half lying. Being her son for so long, I can pick on certain twitches that characterize my mother. I believe her when she says that she doesn't know the purpose of my father's journey. But when she tells me that father has gone to Daugavplis, I know that she is lying. I may call and ask my father but I am already anxious to confront him.Plus if he hasn't told mother about his sudden vacation, then I doubt he'll tell me anything at all.

Surprisingly, Terry uncle seems to be aware of my father's whereabouts though he continues to shrug whenever I question him. He starts giving me knowing looks when I prod him. Those looks persuade me to not carry on my inquisition. I think he has been informed about my partner though I haven't told him. Mother has promised to not divulge the information till I am ready. But I know for a fact that my mother couldn't resist telling Rufina aunt about it. Aunt Rufina didn't make a deal of it, probably not wanting me to feel awkward. She simply smiled and told me she is happy for me and that was that. The subject of my partner doesn't get raised at home but I don't think there is anyone at home who doesn't know of it anymore, except for Faith and Rahul of course, who had bailed on us the last weekend. Had they visited us, I am in no doubt that they would have been informed of the news.

Still, I am quite reprieved that nobody at home prods me to discuss my partner. I can imagine the conversation getting too awkward, too fast. I just wish father returns home soon.

"I'll see what to do about it." I concede to Aakir. "Let's go before the bell rings."

It's Friday, so by the time lunch rolls over I decide to take action upon my words. Aakir is right. There is no big deal in striking a simple conversation with Nealat a personal level. At least I have a certain topic in mind, thanks to Duato, else I may just become tongue-tied. I am on edge as we sit at our cafeteria table, constantly looking towards the cafeteria doors. Aakir gives me knowing looks all the while. I simply roll my eyes at him.

I am actually unaware of where Neal remains during the lunch hour. I do see him visiting the cafeteria at times. He simply comes, talks for a few minutes with a bunch of group that I have come to call the 'elites', as most of them are known to be snobbishly superior in at least one aspect important to a high school student, and then Neal simply walks out. I haven't turned into a stalker to follow him afterwards, so I don't know where he spends the rest of the lunch hour. Since I have started taking notice of Neal's whereabouts, I am partly surprised that he doesn't spend the whole lunch hour in the cafeteria. I mean, he is the school's paper's author. Wouldn't he want to be present in the cafeteria so to not miss anything eye catching? But I digress.Today holds more surprise for me. I sit hereat my table, waiting for Neal to walk in so I can follow him when he walks out. But he doesn't walk in at all. My talk with Aakir has made me a little expectant. It'd be a downer if Neal doesn't show up. When half of lunch passes away, I get twitchy. I contemplate roaming about the schoolin hopes of sensing Neal's aura but that'll take too much of time. Our school is not exactly small.

Sighing, I take matter into my own hands. I excuse myself from my friends and walk towards the table of the 'elites'. My eyes roam about their table. The valedictorians, the nerds, the 'always ready to volunteer' kids, the rich who donate money to school in buckets...in gist, everyone is there who hates the popular crowd, especially the jocks. Neal doesn't always hang out with all of them, save for Tanya and one or two more guys but I have seen him discoursing with this crowd occasionally. I clear my throat as I reach the table. The silence falls instantly, making every person look at me with prejudice. In fact I can feel eye daggers at my back too and know that my friends at my table must be looking in my direction as well. I swallow my nervousness and focus on Tanya whois sitting in the middle.

"Hey," I say, looking at her. Her eyes widens, surprised that I am talking to her, "May I have a word with you?" I ask politely as everybody else keeps staring at me.

"What the hell for?" one of the guys sitting next to Tanya growls at me.

I am shocked at his antagonistic tone. I don't recall doing anything that may be displeasing for this particular fellow. I realize that he is the same guy who was with Neal while they had fought against Duato.

"Alek, it's okay." Tanya says in her usual soft tone, somehow managing to make it sound like a reprimand, "I'll be fine, he is okay." She continues as she gets up from her seat.

Alek doesn't look satisfied as he continues to glower at me. I keep a pacified expression. Tanya joins me. I motion for us to move sideways, out of earshot. I can still feel the eyes of most of the students in our direction.

We pause a good number of steps away from everyone. Once we face each other, she smiles kindly at me. Well.Not every one of those elites dislikes the jocks.

"Thanks." I tell her, "Sorry for bothering you."

"It's alright." She says softly, "What is it?"

"Ah...I was just wondering if you could tell me where Neal is?"

Something flashes in her eyes, "Why?" she asks.

"Uh..." I falter, not in the least bit prepared for her sudden question. "I...I needed to have a word with him." I say lamely.

Tanya nods slowly, "Sorry for prying but we all have been slightly on edge regarding your circle of friends." She admits.

Of course, why wouldn't she be? One of my 'friends' literally punched her boyfriend over a silly paper.

I nod, "I understand. You don't have to worry. I am probably the last person you should be worrying about." I give off a slight laugh.

She smiles back, "Yeah, Neal says the same." She says and then abruptly halts, smiling awkwardly, "We all are just concerned as I am sure you could understand by Alek's behavior," Actually, I don't understand that but I let her continue, "Neal's already been jumped twice so we are just being cautious."

"What?" I am sure my face expresses the shock I am feeling, "He got jumped twice?"

Tanya eyes me incredulously as if she can't believe that I don't know of this, "On Monday itself, in the parking lot." she informs me, "After The Plutocracy got out that day."

"Who was it?" I ask with barely suppressed anger. But seriously? Is it such a big deal to start physical fights over?

Tanya shrugs, "Neal didn't tell me the exact names," she looks displeased that Neal is hiding from her,"but we know that it was...Duato and his friends." She looks on with disdain, her anger barely suppressed at Duato's name, "It was very low of them to corner Neal alone at the end of the school."

"No shit." I say, glaring towards my table. And what does she mean by 'his friends'? Who 'friends'? Most of the peopleon my table are already looking at us.Duato is suspiciously not at the table. He has been bailing on lunch quite a lot these days. Probably because most of us do not speak in agreement with him. And I again wonder, who 'friends'?

I look back at Tanya, "Look Tanya, I understand your concern, and I'll definitely try my best to curb such incidents if possible." I tell her sincerely.

"My name is Ananya." She says.

...Talk about awkward.

"Eh...Yeah, Ananya." I say. I feel my face turning red. A moment of very, very awkward silence greets us. I shake my head sheepishly, "I am really sorry; I had always assumed that your name is Tanya."

She smirks, "It's okay. At least it sounds similar." she sighs, "Neal must be in the library as of now. I doubt he'll be free, he has been preparing for the afternoon student council meeting since morning."

"Oh."

"You can check though." She says smiling, "I'll see you later."

"Thanks." I smile at her and bid her goodbye.

I do not spare a glance at my lunch table as I exit the cafeteria. I strangely try to get rid of the explosive blush on my face. I can't believe I kept assuming her name to be Tanya. It's slightly disturbing that I can be this ignorant. I sigh and shake the thought away, instead concentrating on finding Neal. It doesn't take long for me to climb the single floor towards the library. As soon as I am at the doors, I get assaulted by Neal's aura. His aura drowns the rest of the few weak auras lingering in the library. I sigh with pleasure. All the time I get stunned by the plain aesthetical appeal his aura holds for me. The feeling is something I still can't express in words. It's like my personal euphoric stimulant. I walk through the library, directly towards the end from where his aura is emanating. It's coming from a separate cubicle at the corner, distinguished from the rest of the library by a simple wooden wall. I enter and immediately spot Neal sitting in one of the many chairs present, scattered around a huge table.

He has his laptop open in front of him with a number of papers stacked beside it. But Neal is not concentrating on the work...or so it seems. He is sitting, almost slacking in his seat, his eyes focused on the screen of his laptop, but not really seeing it. His expressions are stoic. I thinkhe is feeling sleepy. I make my presence noticeable by taking a step inside. He lazily lifts his head to look at the intruder.

"Hey." I say.

The rise of his eyebrows is the only acknowledgement he manages for a moment. Then he adjusts himself on his seat, sitting a little straighter.

He clears his throat, "Hey." He says, his voice hoarse. He is definitely sleepy.

"Uh, I hope I am not disturbing." I say, slightly smirking because after all he isn't really working.

"Yes, you are." He says, as blunt as ever. But then he smirks too and rubs his eyes profusely, "Shit." He curses, laughing.

I smile involuntarily, "I am quite sure that I am not intruding." I tell him, giving him a droll look, "But you can do with a nap. I'll catch you later." I smile, preparing to depart.

"No, no." he says, frowning and shutting the lid of his laptop, "A distraction is what I need." He says, stretching his back. He draws his hand on the table and taps on it, indicating the chair opposite to him. I take the invitation and settle in the chair. "Did you need something?" he asks as I sit.

"Uh, not really."

He smirks, stifling a yawn, "Shame." He says.

I eye him inquisitively then stare at him in shock, "You thought I am here to request you to write about me in The Plutocracy?" I deadpan.

His smirk grows, "Or write about anything of your interest. That's usually for what people accost me."

"I don't read your paper."

"I know." He replies too quickly. Then he takes a moment and adds, "People don't just ask me to print things for the pleasure of reading alone."

I nod in understanding. The content of his paper is upon what most of the students form their opinions in this school. Of course, they don't read it for pleasure as much as they read it to stay updated with the 'good' and the 'bad' of our school. "I don't like other people reading your paper as well." I say in reply to that.

He remains silent, stoically keeping his eyes on the table. Almost absentmindedly, he starts picking at the edges of the papers laid in front of him. He looks up and suddenly grins, "You choose the worst candidate for demeaning my paper in front of."

"I am not demeaning it..." I start, making Neal's eyebrows shoot upwards. I sigh, "Okay, maybe I am."

Neal chuckles, "And that's a surprise. Considering that I have displayed how I antagonize...I really don't expect complaints. Not anymore."

It's a good thing he himself has brought the subject of his enmity that he projected in his paper against Duato. I can make a conversation flow at least, if not start it in the first place.

"People learn." I say, scoffing with a smile. "I heard about-"

"I don't expect you to agree with me, you know. You surprise me every time." He interrupts.

"-Uh...what?"

"I know for a fact how cocky and arrogant I sound whenever I talk of Plutocracy. Conceited, even."

"Well...you have earned that right in my opinion." I say awkwardly. The Plutocracy is a hit and Neal knows that. I don't see what the big deal is if he takes advantage of it or expresses his pride over his own work. I don't hear him bragging about it. He states as much as is actually true. Yes, he has a deadly way to express his hostility, though Duato is his very first victim. Yes, he holds a certain power over the crowd. Yes, people can't really demand things out of him. If he is knowledgeable of these things and makes use of it, I really wouldn't call it being arrogant or cocky or conceited. As a bonus, he is even aware of his supposed 'cockiness', knowing too well what he is exactly expressing. He is not blindly egotistical. "It's like being aware of your own capabilities, than being big-headed." I tell him.

Neal nods, "Not everybody agrees with that." He says with sobriety, "Anyways," he huffs out his breath, "You were saying something before I interrupted."

"Oh? Yeah. I just got to know about Duato fighting with you again." Actually, what I heard is that Duato and his friends 'jumped' Neal indicating that they must have taken Neal by surprise. But I don't see a single scratch on Neal that may prove that Duato and his friends succeeded in defeating Neal. I am quite sure Neal must have retaliated, the thought making me use the word 'fight'.

He frowns, "Eh...he didn't."

I raise my eyebrows, "But...Tany-uh, Ananya told me that he and his friends jumped you on Monday." I am beginning to doubt what she meant by the phrase 'jumped him'.

"Oh." Realization dawns on his face, "That seems a long time ago." He chuckles. "It wasn't exactly a fight as such..." he says slowly, "He was just trying to look threatening I guess. We had just talked...unpleasantly." Then he suddenly jolts straight up, looking at the opening of the cubicle we are in, "Sorry." He says. Through the haze of Neal's aura overpowering my senses, I manage to sense another diluted aura lingering behind me.

I turn back to see the librarian standing at the entrance giving sober looks to the both of us.

"It's a library." She states...quite uselessly.

"We'll keep quiet. I apologize." Neal says again.

The librarian nods and walks away.

Neal releases a long breath and rolls his eyes. "It wasn't a big deal." He continues in a much quieter tone. If I were not a therian then I probably wouldn't have heard him so exceptionally clear. "He has been trying to talk to me about the situation...to sort of make an accord or something." Neal shrugs. Then he frowns at me, giving me a suspicious stare, "I hope you're not here to make amends for him."

I roll my eyes, "Duato is not exactly simpatico with me at the moment." I say in an equally quiet tone. Neal leans forward to hear better; his hearing ability not as gifted as mine. He simply nods.

A silent moment flourishes. The silence is similar to all the other silences that lead to an end of a conversation. So far our discussion has been somewhat similar to our previous conversations. Superficial and to the point. I wonder if he'll disclose the reason behind his paper, if I suddenly ask him for it. He himself admits that his paper is not exactly enlightening, most of the times at least. He also admits that it provides him with a superior hand. But is that the reason behind his desire to keep his paper going? To have an upper hand? Just so he can have leverage against everyone like presently against Duato for instance? To a certain extent I am confident that Neal is not that shallow.

I watch as he starts picking his papers, rearranging and stacking them on top of his closed laptop. I know that he is just about to dismiss our ephemeral encounter.

"Why did you do it?" I blurt out instantly, driven by the sudden panic that our conversation is ending.

He raises a finger, pointing at me, "Quiet." He says, grimacing.

I look back towards where the librarian was standing a few moments ago. I look back at Neal and nod with a wince.

"Do what?" he asks in a low voice.

I suspire and reform my question in a quieter tone, "Why are you...suddenly on a warpath against Duato? I mean...I have never seen you specifically degrading anyone in your paper ever."

Neal raises his left eyebrow, smiling amusedly, "I thought you didn't read my paper."

I roll my eyes, "I heard about it." I correct.

Neal shakes his head, "I do insult people in The Plutocracy on a regular basis." He smirks.

"Printing about someone who unfortunately kissed someone ugly is not nearly as serious as the full lashing you unleashed at Duato in the last two papers."

"I'll again say," Neal says, his amused smile growing, "I thought you didn't read my paper."

I sigh, "My...best friend is...sort of a fan of The Plutocracy." I tell him. "I learn of the gossips without any effort." I stress on the word 'gossips'.

He nods, still smiling, "I am assuming it's that guy," he motions his hands towards his eyes, probably identifying Aakir by his unusual eyes, "...Aakir, right?" he asks.

"Yes."

He nods, "Well..." he clears his throat, "Let's say Duato did something that pissed me off."

"Pissed you off this much?"

Neal simply nods, looking serious. But he remains silent, not bothering to elaborate on the subject.

Well...it's clear that he doesn't want to reveal what exactly Duato did and how much ireful he is of him. I feel a pang of disappointment. Neal and I may converse with each other in a very comfortable stance but if I suddenly expect him to tell me how the wheels of his brain work then I have sorely mistaken. Obviously, Neal feels no predisposition to explain in detail to me. We don't share that level of connection.

I seriously don't know how to go about this anymore. I can't simply hold a casual conversation with him, meet him twice, maybe thrice a week and be okay about it. As much as I hate to admit, I do want to be close to him, not just in the vicinity but at an emotional level too. That's probably because I know that no one will be as harmonious with my being as Neal will be. At this particular stage I am not certain if Rufina aunt is lucky or not to not have a partner. She is lucky because she isn't in the helpless state of having found a partner but failing to develop the expected bond. If she has never sensed her partner, she probably doesn't know what she is missing. That's a good thing, right?On the other hand, I can't imagine spending my whole life alone, knowing there is someone with whom I can form a perfect companionship. I have learnt in the past week alone that I do not and will never desire to seek a bond with anybody else except for my partner. Even if I change my mind, I am assured that I won't be able to. You just can't attain the impeccable level of congeniality with anybody, save for with your partner. In that sense I find Rufina aunt unfortunate. I cannot at all imagine spending my life, knowing that there is no one out there with whom I can accomplish a satisfaction filled bond.

I realize that we have become silent once again and this time it's stretching. Surprisingly, Neal doesn't make a move to end our encounter as he abruptly always does. He is simply sitting, picking aimlessly at the edges of his papers, adorning an indiscernible expression.

"Would you like to, maybe, hang out sometime? Just like that?" I ask him.

Yes, I know I told Aakir that I will not ask Neal out. But this is not the date-type asking out. It's a simple two-bros-hanging-out type ask out.

Ugh.

Okay, fine, yes, I am doing what Aakir asked me to. I really don't see any other way to go about this.

Neal grins, "I don't play soccer." He says.

I frown, "You think playing soccer is all I do in my free time?" my tone comes out more incredulous than accusing.

"I believe...it'd be a good way to pass time." He says in a careful tone.

I roll my eyes, "I didn't know you liked soccer."

"I don't." he says quickly, "I have a thing for basketball, actually." He confesses, grinning sheepishly.

"You're kidding." I deadpan.

"Nope."

"You don't look like a sports kind of guy at all." I blurt.

"...Thanks." He says, his tone sarcastic.

"I mean," I say, trying to remedy my impulsive reaction, "I have never seen you involved in any of the sports in school." After uttering that I quickly try to recall the past so to be sure that Neal has actually, really never participated in anything athletic. He is a nerd kind of a guy after all, however sad that may be.

"Maybe we can have a game." He smiles tightly, "But I'll prefer basketball."

I don't really like basketball. I don't even know the rules. "Sure." I say to him with a smile. Yes, I am desperate.

"You know the court in the park next to town-square?" he asks.

I know of the park and can vaguely recall a basketball court in it. I nod.

"Cool. I'll get a friend of mine. You can ask...Aakir." He doesn't seem very enthusiastic while saying Aakir's name.

"Tomorrow evening?" I confirm.

"Early evening." He nods. "I'll let you know the time."

"Alright. Give me your number." I say, standing up to leave.

"I'll contact you myself." He says.

I falter, "Uh...then should I give you mi-"

"You really think that I don't have your number?" he gives me a patronizing look, while opening the lid of his laptop, "I have everybody's numbers." He boasts, grinning.

I roll my eyes, "See you then." I say and as abruptly as he always does, I turn around to depart. I hear a faint 'see you'. I continue to head out, feeling Neal's aura slowly fade away from my senses.

It didn't exactly go as I had planned. But it's a start nonetheless.

  6. Midnight On New Year's Eve

Neal and his friend, the one who enormously dislikes me, Alek, are already present in the town-square park when I reach there. Neal is dribbling the orange basketball nonchalantly. Alek is moving back and forth around him but not lookinginterested in snatching the ball from Neal. Alek is the usual Russian brunette with a lanky form, his dark hair slicked back with tremendous amounts of hair gel. Unlike Neal, Alek is wearing a normal t-shirt which is primed for his size. Neal on the other hand is again adorned in an oversized hoodie. His loose-fitting clothes make it difficult to ascertain his built, just like always.The court is at the end of the exceedingly large park, twined with a badminton court next to it. The park is not overtly crowded but enough occupied by kids, the gossiping ladies and the joggers so to make it look lively.

Neal and Alek spot us soon enough. Neal immediately stops dribbling. We are still a good twenty feet away from the court where Neal and Alek are. I wave at him in a gesture of acknowledgement and he instantly replies with his own wave.

"I really don't like that guy." Alek mutters next to Neal.

I wonder if he'll still be saying that if he knew that I can hear him clearly even with the vast distance. He has more than made his hostility familiar to me when I had approached their table in the cafeteria. The problem is that I don't know what the source of his hatred is.

"He is alright." Neal mumbles back, shrugging infinitesimally.

"I still can't believe you invited these guys to play with us." Alek mutters again through gritted teeth. "Look at them," he sneers, "Came to show off their girls."

Neal chuckles and he jestingly punches Alek's arm, "One of them is their sister." He says quietly.

I get momentarily shocked. Silvia and Faith are the girls accompanying Aakir and I as we move towards the basketball court. Technically, Silvia is not Aakir's girl, not yet at least. Only Aakir knows the hurdles he has to go through to grasp one friendly date with Silvia. Even today she is here because Faith decided to tag along as well. On the other hand, for the life of me I can't figure out how Neal is knowledgeable about Faith, much less that she is our sister. Faith hadn't studied in the same school that we are in. It's nearly impossible for Neal to know of her existence and exceedingly unimaginable to know that she is our sister. It makes me wonder just how much and to what extent Neal keeps information of the people around him.

I feel a stare on the left side of my face and I know that Faith is eyeing me incredulously. If she is expecting me to be best friends with my partner and to be getting along extremely well with his friends then Faith is in for a roll. She is already enough surprised to learn the gender of my partner and after throwing a fit for not informing her earlier, she threw another fit regarding desiring to be introduced to my partner. I explained to her in the best way possible why she shouldn't be expecting me to be suddenly gay. She isn't convinced about my hypothesis of being just close friends with Neal but gives me the benefit of doubt. She is also in favor of listening to my father's view on the bizarre occurrencebut he hasn't returned yet and already half of the weekend is about to come to an end.

"His aura..." Faith says in a very low voice. So low that even Silvia, who is busy interacting with Aakir doesn't hear her, despite walking right next to us. Faith is frowning as she looks at the two boys in the distance. I sigh. I didn't inform her about the oddity that my partner's aura exhibits. I gesture to her that I'll explain later. We reach the boys who have stopped talking amongst themselves since we have neared, most probably in fear that we'll hear Alek expressing his detestation. If only they know.

Rounds of awkward introductions follow, making most of us look inept. Only Silvia and Neal manage to look relatively casual and at ease. Neal is always laid back but I do not expect that from Silvia. I anticipate her to be feeling extremely out of place to be spending the day with a bunch of juvenile guys. Faith, bless her heart, decided to come along. Since she and Silvia are of nearly same age, I don't expect her to feel inapposite anymore but still not at this much ease as I am witnessing. Least I was expecting to see Faith at unease. She may be Gwen aunt's daughter but Faith is a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, being one of the most amiable persons in our family. I believe she is tremendously taken aback by my partner's sudden overwhelming aura.

Alek, Aleksander being his full name, gives cordial greetings to the girls, but noncommittal grunts to me and Aakir. A few words and a lot of awkward silences later, we are divided into two teams for a casual, lame game. I also notice that Neal takes great care to not get paired with Aakir. Maybe Neal is not as laid back as I give him credit for. He always seems on edge with Aakir around. In the end, it's Neal, I and Faith against Aakir, Alek and Silvia. Aakir and I, both are soccer players with little knowledge about basketball. Neal explains the rules of the game vaguely since he is not expecting a much serious game.

Neal is astonishingly quite remarkably good at the game. I could have never guessed him to be fluent in any sport but he is startlingly fluid in his movements, exceptionally adroit with his shots and quite weightless on his feet. The other end opens a surprise in the form of Silvia who shockingly is also a basketball fanatic. She is not as good as Neal but surprisingly a good match for him. Alek is in knowledge of the rules but is just an average player.

I feel very amused in announcing that we therians, Aakir, Faith and I, are the only ones sucking big time at basketball.

Aakir and I are simply jesting, intentionally not following the rules and laughing most of the while. Alek, who is in Aakir's team, keeps giving annoyed looks to Aakir whenever the latter gets a little too enthusiastic and ends up committing a mistake.

"That's a foul." Neal snickers, pointing at Aakir.

"Hey, I get it through a hoop and it's a foul?" Aakir says.

"This is not rugby." Silvia laughs at him, "You're supposed to dribble the ball."

We play for a little over an hour. Well, Neal and Silvia play.The rest of us keep slacking and jesting. Even Alek starts to join our laughs after a while, though he is pointedly ignoring my remarks. Oh, well.

"This was fun." Silvia says, after we all retire from the game in over an hour or so. We all settle on a nearby bench, most of us standing around it. "I miss this. I used to play at the school of basketball, but my friends don't play anymore." Silvia continues.

"I was also a member. Not anymore." Neal says.

"I am surprised that you don't play in our school." I tell him.

"Our school doesn't have a basketball team." Alek retorts, not looking at me.

"Well..." I start, "You can publicize it and attract students to play it." I reason.

Neal smirks but then shakes his head, "I already have enough on my plate. I don't think I'll be able to manage a sport."

"Oh but you should." Silvia insists, "At least revive your membership in the basketball school. Now that I think about it, I should too."

Neal runs a hand through his hair, "I would have considered it but...not to be snobby but I really, really don't get time during the week."

"I agree." Alek says, "It's our final year, there is a lot of burden of books this time round."

"Nerds." Aakir mutters under his breath, only as low as for the therians to hear. I discretely elbow him.

"You guys can play like this." Faith says, waving her hand towards the basketball court in front of us, "I mean, my siblings and I aren't that great," Faith smirks, looking at Aakir and me, "But you guys can invite more people...and you know..." Faith shrugs by the end of it.

Silvia gives a thoughtful acquiescing look while Alek surreptitiously glances at Neal.

Neal shrugs, "Not a bad idea, but I doubt it could be a regular occurrence. In fact, had I known we'll be having more company, I would have probably invited my friends too." He smiles, his eyes flickering towards me.

Uh...So, I don't really know my partner well at a personal level. But I have known him enough to guess when he is being sarcastic or pulling off a riposte. Right now he is all smiles, getting nods of heads from the girls, looking perfectly amicable. Yet, his tone is lined with subtle satire, like a diacritical mark over an alphabet. In haste, I didn't consider informing Neal that the girls will be joining us and he doesn't seem pleased about it...or at least that is what I am inferring from his choice of words and infinitesimal sly glances in my direction.He has been the most comfortable since we all have gathered, so I didn't expect a disagreement.

It slightly displeases me that instead of making any sort of improvement, I sense a little strain between us.

Slowly, everybody concords for departure. The sun is setting and darkness will soon empower. Those who are sitting now get up and stretch their backs. Slowly, voicing vague subjects and laughing lightheartedly, we all start to take steps towards the exit gates of the park. Neal falls back, turning around to briskly walk towards his basketball lying near the periphery of the court. Alek stays back to wait for Nealand so do I. As a result Alek, I and Neal fall a few steps behind the other three, who are still laughing and walking ahead.

"Uh...hey," I start awkwardly, "I hope it was fine that they all came...Uh, I didn't get time to inform beforehand."

Alek, without wasting a moment, snorts and looks away. Thankfully Neal is walking in between us two. I really don't know what Alek's problem is. Neal doesn't say anything for a moment. He is faintly smiling and looking at the basketball in his hands. Then he looks at me sideways and gives me a tight lipped smile.

"I don't like to be taken by surprise, Lichinsky." He says.

He is smiling. But of course he feels the grievance to be enough noticeable to bring it to my notice...quite bluntly, as usual.

"Especially when I have a company of my own." He says again, still smiling. I don't know if his smile is supposed to mask the bluntness of his tone or words or he is just accustomed to remaining calm and happy even in these kinds of situations.

Obviously, he is talking about Alek. Neal may be friendly enough but that doesn't stand true for Alek. The latter was fairly uncomfortable in the beginning. I start to feel the rush of blood in my ears. I was prepared to not expect too much out of this get togethersince there were so many people but I didn't expect to be the target of my partner's disappointment.

"It was alright." Alek mumbles, loud enough. I am partly surprised for him to be standing up for me, "I was fine." He continues, "Faith and Silvia are quite nice."

Neal gives off a slight laugh and then looks at me, "I am not complaining, as my friend has clearly misunderstood." He gives Alek a droll look before turning back to me again, "I am just stating facts. No hard feelings. It's not like it turned out bad." He shrugs.

Well. Isn't that convenient? I think sarcastically.

"It actually got planned in the spur of the moment." I feel owed to give an explanation, "Aakir didn't want to pass on his time with Silvia, and Faith was too excited to sit at home-"

"Dude," Neal interrupts, "It's okay. You don't need to give excuses."

"It's not an excuse." I state, "I am just telling you what happened." Obviously he can't understand the urge I feel to make sure that he isn't thinking negative about me.

"What for?" Neal drawls, now smirking at me, "The Plutocracy?"

I slow down, making both of them slow down too. I suddenly face an epiphany, the thought of being pleasing for my partner momentarily vanishing from my mind. "Neal...I...I don't want you to be giving an account of this in your paper." I tell him in the most serious tone I can manage.

Alek begins snickering while Neal's smile widens.

"What makes you think I'll do that?" Neal says.

I shrug though I am on edge. I haven't considered that I am giving Neal good topics for his paper, "Just don't." I say.

Neal continues to smirk, "You underestimate my ethics." He mutters. I don't think he meant for me to hear that so I don't reply.

We catch up to the rest. Casual conversation flows for a few minutes and then we start to bid goodbye. Silvia is the first one to leave, instantly making Aakir slightly melancholic. He is probably not happy that he hasn't got to spend time alone with her. But he doesn't stretch his luck and lets Silvia go. She surprises me with hugging each one of us except for Aakir much to his chagrin. She also specifically orders Neal to get in contact with her if he ever wishes a game. After her departure, Faith, out of nowhere, starts persuading Neal and Alek to join us for supper. Is she insane? No way in hell I want my family to meet Neal just yet. Alek blushes beet red at Faith's persistence but he constantly declines. Neal starts to give off a laugh looking astonishingly abashed.

"I wouldn't be comfortable." He admits honestly.

Faith pouts petulantly but, thank god, doesn't persuade them further. She in turn kisses both the cheeks of both the boys as a gesture of farewell, just like my mother does sometimes. Neal is unfazed but Alek looks like he is about to faint. Just at the brink of a final goodbye and Neal halts.

"Aakir?" he says, looking at Aakir, "May I have a word?"

Surprised, Aakir nods and the both of them move a little sideways. Great. I go through so much to get this one engagement where my partner will be around me and he goes off to talk privately with my best friend. Thinking of Aakir's severe interest in my partner, I can't help but find the situation a little ironic. Faith engages Alek, who is beginning to look discomforted, in a light conversation again. My therian ears, however, follow the words of my partner.

"Do you mind if I mention about you and Silvia in The Plutocracy?" he voices in a low tone, not expecting to be audible for the eavesdroppers. Well, not for the pure human eavesdroppers at least.

From the corner of my eyes, I watch as Aakir sputters at the unforeseen question. "Um, I, well, we are not together." He blurts.

Neal nods, "But you're courting her. Do you mind if I mention that?"

Aakir thinks for a moment then laughs, "I can't believe that you're asking me."

Neal shrugs, "I wouldn't have if I had heard it second hand, and in school. Since we are not in school, neither in a school related activity...I thought it adequate to ask."

"Well..." Aakir trails off.

"It wouldn't be anything detailed. And neither anything in indecent words."

Aakir suspires, "Uh, okay."

Neal nods, smiling, and the both of them return to us. Another round of goodbye follows and we depart. Aakir and Faith are silent as we walk back. It is around seven in the evening, meaning our shop will still be open as the closing time is eight. But neither of us is in the mood to go back and work. The extraneous physical activity of our game may not have tired us physically but that doesn't mean we don't get mentally exhausted. Besides, Faith is desirous of being with Rahul again who is currently lounging at home. I, on the other hand, am not in a good enough mood, not at all satisfied by our jaunt. If anything, the event has actually made me feel that Neal will not consent for another get together.

Without further ado, the three of us traverse through the peter's market, towards the edge of the woods. Once inside, we all break off into a light sprint, equivalent to jogging. We see no point in being hasty.Though I personally prefer to run faster, I don't complain.

"So, what's with his aura?" Faith asks, as we continue to run by the darkening environment.

"We don't know." Aakir says, "Josh will figure it out, when...you know..."

I again don't like the topic being discussed as if my partner is some sort of an experiment, but I remain mute.

"Do you think he could be like us?" Faith asks.

"I am sure he would have sensed our aura and reacted accordingly..." Aakir says in a careful tone, "plus, his aura is nothing like ours."

Both of them sense my lack of involvement in the conversation and do not carry it on further. When we reach our home, we get rolled in for a surprise. There are faint sounds of screaming, almost screech like cackling emanating from the top of our house. The moment we reach our porch, the screams become increasingly lucid. I again thank for the fact that our house is in the middle of nowhere, with no chance of a human stumbling upon our house. Those shrieks are going to be hard to miss.

I hear Aakir suspire, "Now what triggered his episode?" he says, not masking the displeasure in his voice.

"There are more people inside...do you sense it?" Faith says, halting and tilting her head towards the inside of our home.

I notice that she is right. I start sensing more auras than I should be. The stupefying verity of it is that those are powerful auras, indicating therians. But I do not understand what could have set off Rome's bout of savageness. Since Rome is a mental therian, he largely relies on his senses. Of course he must have sensed the therian auras in our house but I see no reason for it to trigger his shrieking episode. He is already accustomed to our auras in the house. Nonetheless, such barbaric reactions of Rome make us glad that we keep him locked in the attic.

But I digress.

I focus on the auras. Even if Rufina aunt is home, which is very unlikely at this hour, then also there are two extra auras. On concentrating, I find one of those auras to be more potent than the others. It is unmistakable for me to recognize father's aura.

"It's Dad." I say, a little excitement in my voice. Considering my disappointment in regard to my partner, my father being finally home is like midnight on a New Year's Eve. The excitement soon flows through my veins as I hastily step inside the house. Briskly, I walk through the vestibule that opens towards the living room. That is from where all the auras seem to be coming.

I am greeted by the sight of five men. One is of course my father. I grin when he catches my eye. He smiles back warmly. Terry uncle and Rahul are occupying one of the loveseats. Rahul, the only human here at the present, looks extremely comfortable as if he is not sitting amidst a bunch of half-animals, with one savage animal hounding quite audibly in the attic. Then my eyes land on the rest of the two men. I have never seen them before, but it's unmistakable that they are therians. They seem middle aged, almost as old as my father. One of them, the brunette, is dressed rather formally in shirt and pants. The other one is with reddish brown hair and characteristic green eyesand looks at ease in his plain t-shirt. Both men are of the same built, almost as tall as my father, though the red head has a slightly boyish face, despite his age and several laughing wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

"That's my son. Josh." My father says, pointing at me, "That's my niece, Faith...Rahul's partner and Terry's daughter. And that's my nephew, Aakir." Then father gestures to the two men, "This is Ethan Foster," he points at the red head, "And his partner, Vincent." He waves at the brunette.

As we awkwardly greet them back, I notice what my father said.

"Partner?" I splutter.

The red head, Ethan, smirks.

"Yes." My father says solemnly, "They are partners." He sighs, "You can satiate all the queries you have..." he turns to look at the men, who nod amicably, "But, you may like to rest first."

Ethan is quick to nod his head, "Absolutely. The flight was rather exhausting." His idiom is different, probably an American accent. "After a nap, we are all yours." He smiles at me warmly.

My answering smile is a second too late, but nonetheless he catches it.

"If only the walls were soundproof." Ethan continues, bluntly. As if on cue, Rome lets out another blood curdling scream.

"I apologize for the inconvenience but it's really not in my hands." My father says somberly.

Vincent, the brunette, nods slowly, "I understand. We have a quite a numberof mental therians in our realm as well." His voice is rather deep, deeper than I was anticipating.

"Hopefully, he'll tire out soon and stop with the screams." Father says, then he looks at Terry uncle.

"I'll show you the guest room." Terry uncle says, getting up. The men get up too, collecting their duffel bags resting at their feet and following Terry uncle towards the staircase. Father gets up too, stifling a yawn. He rubs my shoulder as he passes me by but heeds me no glance. All of this happens too fast for me to comprehend it. My father is back, from a jaunt to a therian realm. And he is back with a...gay couple? No, I don't know if they are a couple. They seem normal, like any two men being casually together in a friendly manner. My father has seemingly brought them to...to what? Appease me? To let me know I am not the only guy with a male partner? To let me understand my situation better?

I watch as my father walks ahead. I am too overwhelmed to let him get away. I follow him as he walks to his room. He is a mature therian, so it's no wonder that he can sense me walking behind him. But he says nothing. He climbs the stairs to the first floor and makes his way to his room. His motions are slow, indicating exhaustion. But he hasn't stopped me from following him like a puppy so I continue along as his shadow. Once he is inside the room he gestures towards me to close the door. I comply. Without a word, he retires to the adjoining washroom. Sighing, I sit down and make myself comfortable on my parent's king size bed.

Father takes his time, leisurely. I am in no hurry either as I sit like a good old kid, waiting for my daddy. I chuckle at my own thoughts. But I am happy and if my childishness is to be humiliated at that expense, so be it. Father comes out, now looking much relaxed, freshly bathed and dressed in a clean t-shirt and tracks.

"You went to look for same gender partners, didn't you?" I ask him as soon as he steps out of the bathroom door.

The thought alone is the only thing revolving in my head. The fact that he left immediately after learning of my partner, having gone for over a week and returning with same gender partners, obviously imply that, doesn't it? That he hasn't really given up on me, or worse, he hasn't been ignoring me. My problems are as big for him as for me. My father is the true justification of the phrase, 'actions speak louder than words'. Sometimes I feel guilty for thinking that my father doesn't care about me. That's probably the lowest thing I can think about him.

Father smiles, rubbing his hair dry with his towel. He is not looking at me and the faint smile embellished on his taut lips looks rather amused. He can definitely sense my happiness and excitement.

"Yes." He says simply.

"You could have told me. I wouldn't have been worrying off my ass then." I say in a dry tone though the smile hardly leaves my lips.

"No, you wouldn't be worrying then." He agrees, "You would be begging to come along with me."

I roll my eyes. All of that tension so I wouldn't cling to him like a five year old and bawl my eyes out till he doesn't let me fly with him too. Seriously, sometimes he underestimates me.

"I can take 'No' for an answer." I tell him. "I'll be disappointed, yeah, but I'll live."

Father sits on the opposite corner of the bed and appraises me with his sober eyes, "Josh...when you'll be old enough, you'll know that sometimes...it's best to not answer, than refuse."

I sigh but don't say anything. I am not old enough so yes, I don't understand. But I can understand to some extent. Being a father, he prefers to keep me ignorant than say 'No' in response to my every question. I don't dwell on the issue, not now. Not when father has given me enough reason to not complain for his lack of explanations.

"You're fine with it?" I blurt instead.

Father raises his eyebrows silently.

"My partner..." I say, "You're fine with him being...a guy?"

Father sighs, "I don't see why I shouldn't be fine with it."

"Maybe because we expect partners to get married." I blurt, then wince.

Father, to my utter surprise, smirks. He looks me in the eye, "Are you fine with it?" he challenges.

"Yes." I say without hesitation.

"Then I don't see why I shouldn't be fine with it."

I abruptly add, "I am not going to marry him." My voice sounds panicky to my own ears,"I am not gay."

Father simply watches me, his smirk gone. He waits for me to continue.

"But..." I continue, "I want to be with him...just as friends," I quickly add, "I wish to be close to him at an emotional level, but not romantically."

Father says nothing. Instead he seems in deep thought.

"Is that possible?" I blurt again.

Father sighs, "I have got Ethan and Vincent here for all sorts of queries you have. They are here for a week, so you can clearwhatever sorts of doubts you have."

I bite my lip, a dirty habit I seemed to have picked up from Aakir, "Okay." I say.

"Okay." Father says, getting up and placing his towel in the nearby chair, "Now, let me rest."

I ignore his request, "Did you know that it was possible to have a same gender partner?" I ask hastily. My father has returned after a long time. He may be tired but I really want to talk to him. Though I probably should let him rest. After a couple of more questions maybe.

Father clears his throat, "Not exactly...but considering the basis on which a partner is selected, I supposed it is a possibility."

I nod. "Are they..." I clear my throat, struggling with words, "Ethan and Vincent....they are...they-"

"Gay?" Father drawls, a slightly amused expression on his usually sober face. The word sounds oddly foreign on his tongue as if he has said it the first time. As if he is testing the word on his tongue.

"No." I blurt, "I mean, yeah. I mean," I grimace, trying to form a firm thought, "Are they, like, hmm, together? You know..." I trail off.

My father nods slowly, "From what I could gather, yes. They live in a domestic partnership in their state."

"Oh."

"Josh," Father begins, "Ethan and Vincent have specially come here to ease your conscience and maybe tell you a few things to prepare yourself for..." he waves his hand idly, wordlessly indicating my situation, "And I am quite assured that they'll welcome any sort of question you have, even the blunt ones. Doesn't matter if it's about them or about yourself. They are here to provide advice in whatever form they can. So don't beat yourself over it. Talk to them. You have plenty of time to understand your situation better. And I am sure they'll leave their contacts in case you have doubts in the farther future as well." Father smiles, "So don't worry and let me rest now."

I take the hint and get up from the comfortable spot to move out. I smile back at father sheepishly before I gently shut the door on my way out.

Rome's shrieking dies soon enough, thank the lords.Giddy, I joyously eat supper with my siblings. Faith pressurizes me to tell her 'everything', which I do not know what exactly means. I just tell her, in gist, the conversation between myself and father. The ladies of the house return soon and are informed of the return of my father along with the guests. Happily, as always, my mother cooks dinner for the elders who plan to dine much later, probably when the guests and my father are done with their ephemeral naps. It doesn't take long. At around nine thirty, Ethan is the first one to descend. He comes, smiling and looking rested, and greets my mother and Rufina aunt heartily.

Aunt Gwen doesn't join us, not even to at least show her face to the guests.

Not that I am surprised. I am just saying.

"It smells delicious." Ethan compliments my mother as he joins us on the kitchen island.

"You must be hungry after the long flight." Mother smiles indulgently at him.

"Oh, you have no idea."

It's quick to understand that Ethan is a very...uh, honest person. He feels something, he says it.

"Well, I can sense Nikolai, he is up." Terry uncle says. Even I notice that my father's aura is moving about on the first floor. "What about Vincent?"

"Oh, Vince is going to take his sweet time." Ethan rolls his eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if he gets up in the morning. He can be astonishingly lazy."

"But he must be hungry. He must eat dinner." My mother sings, moving back and forth working in the kitchen.

"Uh, if it's not a bother," Ethan starts, looking apprehensively at my mother, "you can save a bit for him. In case he gets up in the middle of the night and is desirous of eating, then I'll offer him."

"Oh, sure, that's perfectly fine."

"Are you sure he wouldn't want to join us?" My father speaks as soon as he enters the kitchen, his eyes at Ethan.

Ethan gives my father a droll look, "Come on. You've spent three days with us. You should know who the talker is and who is just an escort." Ethan smirks.

Everybody chuckles at that.

"Well," My father says, a pondering look combined with slight amusement on his face, "Considering how you keep looking at Vincent, expecting his consent during finalizing a situation, I am partly surprised that you're ready to dive into dinner without his permission."

"Oh, what do you know, big man?" Ethan chides, grinning, "Those are my ways of keeping him in grasp, which I am sure," He looks at my mother, "Your wife must be very familiar with."

"All the wives are." Terry uncle chuckles.

"All the partners are." My father corrects them.

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan says, a sarcastic grin directed at my father, "I know you feel shy to call me the 'wife'."

Such teasing conversation continues on between the elders. Faith is grinning from ear to ear as her eyes dodge from one elder to another. Aakir, much like me, looks abashed. I can't believe the elders are talking in this fashion. I mean, alright, my family is pretty advanced, not at all orthodox. But to hear them joke so nonchalantly with a...gay man about his partner is something I don't see on a day to day basis. Ethan doesn't look gay at all. He is an easygoing guy, almost like Terry uncle, with the streak of redefined humor. He laughs and makes other laugh more, just like any other funny guy.There is nothing 'gay' about it, unless you mean the happy 'gay'. Still, he converses as casually about Vincent as Faith does about Rahul. There is no doubt with the innuendos in their conversation that Ethan and Vincent are pretty much...together-together. From what I understand of Ethan's babbling, his partner, Vincent, is rather quiet. He prefers to offer silent comfort as opposed to Ethan who talks at miles per hour. Though, he is an equally good listener. He listens in rapt attention as my mother gushes over the scenery they can enthrall themselves with during their stay. Bowls of ice cream crinkles against the silverware, as everybody feasts on the supposed desert.

"The sand is whitest in Liepāja." My mother boasts, smiling, "You'll find no sand as white in all of 'merica."

"Actually," Ethan replies, "we don't get to see much of beaches since we live in Kansas."

"That's a shame."

"But I plan to make up for the lack of it. I can even hear the whooshing of sea from here." Ethan says, tilting his head as he pretends to listen to the endless mellifluence of the sea.

My mother laughs, a chiming sound in the already noisy dining room. "We do take pride in the fact that we live right next to the beach."

"Oh?" Ethan says, smiling and looking around, his empty bowl resting after thorough digging. His eyes rest on me as I gulp down the vanilla through my throat, "Maybe Josh can give me a night stroll to it? If he doesn't mind?"

"Hmm hmm." My mother says nonchalantly, smiling. She gets up and starts clearing the table of empty utensils.

"Uh...yeah, sure." I say, slightly taken aback by his sudden request. It's already nearing eleven PM at night. I don't have school tomorrow so I shouldn't worry. But it's for a different reason I am worrying. Since Ethan has joined us, I have spoken two, maybe three, words with him. Aakir and I are just settled back, listening to the elders and chuckling as one of them cracks an enough decent joke. I know Ethan and his partner are precisely here for my benefit. But with the way he was going on and on about the endless vague topics with my elders, I believed he will encounter me on a personal basis tomorrow. Apparently, he does plan to talk to me before the night ends.

That should be understandable. My father has brought these two men all the way across to another continent just so I can pragmaticallyand calmly handle the issue of my partner. I can't believe these guys agreed to travel this far to satiate a kid's curiosity but hey, I shouldn't be complaining. I may have been satisfied by my father's acceptance and explanation alone, the former of which I have received. For the latter, perhaps father himself doesn't know what to express on the issue. It's not every day that he wakes up to learn that his son is a potential gay man.

I give a fleeting glance towards Aakir and then towards my father, both of whom give me slight nods. I sigh and then smile as Ethan approaches me. I nod my head towards the backdoor of our house, indicating that he follow me. Slowly, we move out, our hands buried in the pockets of our trousers, our pace even, as we walk towards the trees, which are darkened by a starless night.

  7. Dual The Threat

"Vince was pretty reluctant to travel this side." Ethan tells me as we traverse the sparse woods, towards the beach end of the meadow. "He has never been an enthusiastic traveller."

The wind has a chilly end to it making me curl my shoulders inward. Night times are usually colder, especially near the beach side. Ethan looks undisturbed with a thin t-shirt on. "To be honest," I tell him, "even I am surprised that you guys have travelled to a different continent upon a request."

Ethan chuckles, "Wouldn't be the first time, Josh...you don't mind if I call you 'Josh', do you?"

"No, no." I say, "'Josh' is just fine."

"Good. And you can call me Ethan."

"Alright." I chuckle. "Ethan." I say testily. "What do you mean 'it wouldn't be the first time'?"

Ethan suspires heavily, "Well...I am naturally an explorer. I like travelling." He shrugs, "Apart from that...our realm has quite a few specialties for which therians from all the other realms come for consultation to us." He pauses as we break out of the trees. "Vince and I are amongst the head members of the council of our realm. So, it's not unusual for us to travel abroad frequently for attention seizing situations in other realms. Vince despises it." He chuckles.

I turn to look at him, "Uh...I am not quite acquainted with the...uh, traditions of the realms."

"Ah," he shrugs again, "It's a shame. Nikolai did tell us that your family is here since almost twenty years now. There are families belonging to our realm who prefer to live separately from the realm too." He turns and gives me an incredulous look, "You haven't even visited your realm ever?"

I shake my head, not very comfortable at being interrogated about my lack of knowledge.

Ethan frowns, "Strange...I'd...." he trails off then abruptly shakes his head. "Anyway. Just know that it isn't our first time being counselors for same gender partners." He smirks.

"There are others?"

"Of course." He uses the 'duh' tone. "Our realm, the First, is the one with the most same-sex partners. There are sixteen couples in my division alone."

"Uh, I am sorry, division?"

Ethan gives me a comical exasperated look, "You must at least know of the realms, if not have visited one."

"I know about the realms." I say quickly, "Just not in very detail...I have just read certain books..." I shrug.

"So, you must know that the First Realm is the biggest?"

"Yes, I did read that somewhere. It was the Realm where therians were created, so naturally it expanded much more than any other Realm which got created due to migration." I say, trying to recall the memory of my 'curious' years, when my incessant bugging had made father relent and allow me to read some of the books in his personal library.

"Yeah, so it's enough big to be divided into sections which are called divisions. I live in the east Kansas division which is about only two percent of our total realm. And there are sixteen cases of same sex partners in my region alone."

"...Okay. They are all...together as couples?"

"Yes." He says proudly, "They face slight reluctance in the beginning, for obvious reasons, but they all are eventually happy together. Some of them have identified themselves as homosexuals beforehand, so they consider their partner of the same sex to be obvious. But most are straight. So they usually end up getting slightly shocked at the revelation. In fact, the very first case of same gender partners had risen in our realm itself, back in the seventies. And God knows there must have been cases before that, just not in writing. You can imagine their shock at that orthodox time." Ethan smirks, "Those two ladies in my realm are still alive, reveling in their old age and happily living as a couple now." Ethan grins.

I feign a cough, smiling, "That's all dandy...but I don't know how that is relevant..."

"Oh, but it is." Ethan interrupts, "Don't you see? What you're going through is not uncommon. You'll eventually grow to accept it, instead of fearing it. You shouldn't be ashamed. Don't think that you're a heterosexual and therefore not entitled to a same sex partner. You have a partner. You have no idea how much lucky that fact alone makes you. Don't get paranoid over something so simple as a gender. You shouldn't be anxious, you eventually adapt to the love. You'll eventually realize that not only you need to accept your partner but that you'll start wanting to accept him. It's all-"

"Actually," I interrupt his well-rehearsed speech, smiling tightly, "I already accept him."

"...."

A very awkward silence lingers. I clear my throat.

"Uh, my partner," I start, "He is a good guy. I...uh, respect him. And I certainly don't feel ashamed of him."

Ethan mimics the clearing of throat and begins anew, "So...it's him? He says that he is a heterosexual and-"

"Nealis a human. He doesn't know anything."

"I see....so you need advice over...how to court him?"

"Ethan," I smirk despite myself, "Stop second guessing. Let me explain my dilemma."

"Alright." Ethan shakes his head. "I probably should hear the story first."

We walk on the cold sand, towards the endless sea in front of us. It looks dark, devoid of color, except for the whitish foam that forms upon each wave. I allow Ethan to marvel upon the beauty of the black sea striking the white sand for a while.

"Is this partner thing supposed to be..." I say after a long moment, searching for the right word, "...romantic? Or something along those lines?"

Ethan blinks owlishly then frowns furiously, "Conceptually...no."

"Yeah." I nod. I motion for him to sit. We both sit down, the sand cold against us through the layer of cloth, "It is simply a way to find the one with whom you'll be most compatible...most congenial. Right?"

Ethan nods in consent, "Yes, the history says that the aura of your partner is only pleasant to you because it fits snugly with your aura alone. You know...like...threads weaving in a symmetrical fashion. Only, they are energy streaks instead of threads. And it fits so because the mechanism of thinking of your partner...which results into his particular aura...that thinking mechanism is most complaint with your needs. It'll always be in harmony with your thoughts. That's the one person who'll bend for your needs without any doubt and hold the power to receive the same from you. Our minds are very complex, always desiring to be near the thing that's the best for it."

I nod, "Yeah but there is no mention of it requiring to be...romantic...or uh, sexual."

Ethan sighs, "I knowwhere you're going." He mumbles then says in a louder voice, "Yes, there isn't a need for it to be romantic per se. But...it's expected to mate with your partner. You wouldn't be satisfied with anybody else." He says confidently, "The highest bonding someone receives is with one's parents and one's partner. Since parents come in pair, it's natural for the person to be inclined towards his partner. And satiating your romantic needs with someone else requires you to bond with someone else, which you would drearily dislike with your partner already around."

I remain silent as I let that sink in. But still...

"But...we can stay as close friends." I say, "At least that's how I imagine it...you know, living together..."

"...and having a common wife to satiate your 'romantic' needs?" Ethan taunts, full on smirking.

I sigh, frustrated, "We can have wives of our own and we all can stay together-"

"Won't work." He shortly interrupts,"As I said, you won't feel inclined towards your wife at all. Romancing her wouldn't be in your capability, as far as I can tell. Plus, you'll hate when your partner will be spending time with his wife. The idea is preposterous."

"How do you know?" I challenge him, frowning. He sounds awfully confident. He says that all the same sex partners he has come across are settled as couples. How can he say that my idea won't work when nobody has even tried it?"Nobody has tried what I am suggesting. I can at least see-"

"It has been tried." He interrupts me again.

"...you just said that all the partners you've met are living happily as couples...?" I bite my lip as it dawns on me, "You've met someone who has tried...they failed...and now they are a couple." My voice comes out tight as I state it.

Ethan smirks, "Oh, I don't know. I won't say I 'met' this couple. It's pretty tough to meet with yourself."

My mouth goes agape at the revelation. He is kidding, right?

"Are you serious?" I ask, completely flabbergasted.

Ethan's smirk starts to look a little tiring, "Vincent..." he starts, "believes himself to be an undeniable heterosexual. Even now, at this stage, when we are quite happy as a couple."

"He suggested that you guys stay as friends?"

"Well..." Ethan drawls, "technically no." he sighs, "Vince and I...we have been best friends since we were toddlers. Our parents are very close. He and I have practically shared a crib. We had our first drink together, we courted girls together, we even bathed together sometimes. We had always been close, like..." he pauses, searching for the right words.

"Brothers?" I supply.

"Twin brothers." Ethan says, nodding at me, "like with the whole mental connection and all."

I chuckle.

"So...It was quite a big surprise when we learned of us being partners. He had matured before me...so he was the first to know that we are partners, since my aura started attracting him. I still remember," Ethan gets a faraway look as he gazes at the ocean in the distance, "He had started acting weirdly around me and wouldn't tell me what's wrong. But he wouldn't leave my side either, no matter how much I lashed at him for being secretive." He chuckles, "I couldn't understand. His demeanor was reluctant around me. I kept thinking that why is he even hanging out with me if he is not comfortable for whatever reason?" He sighs, "I understood six months later why he was still sticking by my side, even unwillingly. I matured and I sensed him. I confronted him about it. I have never seen Vincent get that red, he was so embarrassed."

"He should have just told you." I say, frowning.

"Well...why don't you go and tell your partner too?" he challenges back.

"My case is different." I say, immediately getting in the defensive mode, "Firstly, my partner is not even a therian and secondly, he and I are not exactly friends." Ethan opens his mouth to say something, but I hastily cut him off, "But the way you tell me, you and your partner are the closest to each other. So, he should have told you. Especially knowing that you'll know sooner or later."

"It's not that easy." Ethan shakes his head, "Vince is very...shy. Though he'll kill me if he hears me saying this," he mutters the last part, "But Vince is not the type to tell his feelings without a little push. And I have always provided him with that push. He talks the most with me but is practically mute with others. So, when he needed to discuss 'me' as his partner he had practically no one to go to. And he was too..." Ethan trails off, then suspires abruptly, "I can't explain to you, alright, Josh? I'll just let you know that I understand Vince's reluctance in telling me about us being partners."

I nod at him to continue. It's alright if he doesn't want to share too personal details. And he is partially right. Some things are so personal to you that you just cannot express those feelings in words.

"So," Ethan continues, "After noticing his obvious discomfort at his best friend being his partner, I decided to ease his conscience. I proposed the theory you're willing to try with your partner. That we remain together as friends. Vince agreed, actually a little pleased," Ethan rolls his eyes, "and that was that. We were twenty at the time."

"Hmm?"

"College continued, Vince and I moved in together. It was all dandy. We had our share of awkward moments...I mean, we are guys and no matter how close we are, it's still a little awkward to be mawkish with your best friend. And the attraction between us just made us be more sentimental towards each other."

"But it was working out fine?" I ask, my tone careful.

"Yes." Ethan said, turning his face and smiling widely at me, "And it would have continued to be perfectly fine if two things hadn't struck us hard in the face."

I take a deep breath. Here comes the finale, "What two things?"

"Well," Ethan says, his face looking slightly exasperated as he reminisced his past, "Our 'perfect' arrangement promises to remain perfect only if it comes with a compulsory addition of celibacy."

"...Oh."

"Since we accorded to remain friends and Vince considered us to be heterosexuals, he thought it wise to engage with other women to satiate the sexual needs."

"And?"

"And he started to date this girl from our college. I was not happy when he suggested that we be sexually involved with other women. Simply because I felt no inclination towards any woman. And complicatedly because I didn't like the idea of Vince sleeping with anyone at all."

"So...you were jealous."

Ethan frowns, "Maybe. In vague terms, yeah. I certainly flipped out when he started dating that girl."

"Flipped out?" I ask, expecting him to elaborate.

"Yeah, I expressed my dislike. We had a huge fight. He kept saying that we had an agreement to remain friends and that I seemed pretty fine when he had suggested that we sleep with other women." Ethan rolls his eyes again, "I told him I don't like it. Because I was sure that if I don't discourage his sexual engagements at that time, he'll probably suggest marrying separate women later onand no way in hell would I have been able to tolerate that. His dating excursions with that single woman had me on edge during several weeks. I just couldn't tolerate him getting inclined towards someone else."

The way Ethan's frown deepens and the way he'll start gazing unseeingly ahead, I can make out that these memories are not his favorite.

"Wasn't he...?" I trail off, expecting Ethan to understand my question.

"Vincent? He would have felt the same." Ethan answers, "But I didn't make any effort to date a girl, so no history of him flipping out on me."

"No." I say, "I mean, was he fine with being with that girl?"

"Oh...No." He replies, scoffing, "He also felt no particular attraction towards anybody else, girl or boy. But he thought we wouldn't know till we don't try. He believed that apparently having sex one time with a girl would explain to him if he can carry it on or not." He says in a sarcastic tone.

"And he realized that he can't carry it on?" I guess.

Ethan chuckles, "Actually, he couldn't even do it the first time." He smiles happily, making me feel slightly awkward. Ethan goes on unaware of the effect his cheesy happiness is having on me. "We didn't talk for a week. I was angry for obvious reasons. He apologized a week later and told me he didn't do it...and also expressed that he may not be able to do it in future as well."

"Okay...and," I rub my right cheek, feeling my cheeks getting warm as the question stills at the tip of my tongue.

"Hmm?" Ethan encouraged me to speak.

"Uh, so...you guys started romancing after that?" I say, not looking at him.

Ethan starts laughing. I have no option but to look at him as he controls his fits of laughter, his face reddening.

"Actually," he says with a chuckle, his laughter getting replaced with a little sobriety, "that is where the second of the two things came."

"Huh?"

"Two things. I told you there were two things that didn't set well with our routine of remaining together as friends."

"Oh, yeah. Not able to be celibate was first. And second...?"

"Was the urge to be physically closer to your partner."

"Uh..." I start awkwardly, "What?"

"Have you ever touched your partner? A simple of shake of hands...? Or even a slight brush of his arm...?" Ethan asks, his inquisitive gaze settling on me.

I frown, recalling my short encounters with Neal. Now that I think of it...I actually have never touched him in any way. Not even a shake of hand, not even while passing the basketball to each other today. I feel a little disturbed to know that touching him, even as a simple handshake, seems a big deal to me now.

"No." I mumble.

"So, you probably don't know how that feels."

"Does it...um, it feels different?" I mutter,"Nobody in the house told me that it feels different."

"Therians don't usually like to discuss what their partners are capable of making them feel. It's too personal a thing. So don't look so disappointed on not knowing about it."

I frown, "And you don't have a problem in telling me so?" I say suspiciously.

Ethan smiles, "It sort of comes with my job description. Seriously, Josh, council members have no personal lives. But we're diverting from the main topic." He takes in a deep breath, "So, tell me...Have you been in your partner's vicinity? Talked to him one on one?"

"Yeah, of course."

"So...how does his aura feel?"

"Um," I feel my ears getting warm again, "It's...pleasing, obviously."

"Have you noticed that the closer you are to him, his aura seems more pleasing?"

I thought of all the times I have been with Neal, recalling the way his aura would completely swallow my senses. The simple aesthetical appeal the aura holds when I am approaching it but completely overwhelming when I am near him.

"Yeah. It definitely does get prominent with decreasing distance." I express my observation.

"Now imagine that prominence enhanced fifty folds, or maybe even more. That's how good it feels upon touch."

"...Oh."

"The aura exuding from the body usually gets diluted as it spreads in the space around that body. But if you're touching that body, the energy waves enter you instantly without dilution. Much like a potent dose, you know. Sensing that undiluted form of your partner's aura is incredibly pleasant. It can actually make you feel the disposition of your partner's aura."

"Okay. I get it."

"So..." Ethan continues, "It wasn't long before both of us, Vince and I, became desirous of being physically close. He was most embarrassed when he'll get up in the morning, finding himself cuddled with me."

I think I might explode with the warmness I feel on whole of my face. Ethan, again, seems oblivious to my abashed state. He really should notice it. I don't want to hear the details of his personal life with Vincent.

"So, the romancing began." I say, looking away.

"Yes. It was awkward at first. Especially for Vince. I didn't have much of a problem. And we have eventually made it."

"You never felt discomforted that your partner was a guy, did you?" I ask. Throughout the story it was only Vincent who had problems with being a couple.

Ethan sighs, "No. I was fine with it....girl or a boy, it didn't really matter to me. If you have to put a label on me, I guess I'll be bisexual." He shrugs, "But in ways I am glad that it's Vince."

"And now he is fine with it too?"

"Yes." Ethan smiles, "We had our ups and downs but we have eventually learned to love each other. That wasn't much of a task, since we already loved each other as best friends or brothers at least." He adds dryly.

I smirk, "I think that tends to make things more awkward."

I mean, come on, that's like Aakir and I being partners. It spells awkward in every direction. But I do not voice my thoughts.

Ethan shrugs, "I was fine with it, ecstatic even. It took Vince a while...but eventually he realized too, that when you grow to love someone, you start loving that person and not his or her body parts."

A silence falls after that wise comment. Only the sound of the whooshing sea is there. The conversation is quite enlightening but it certainly doesn't convince me much. I can't help but relate myself with Vincent. I am similarly reluctant about this issue, as he was. If only my partner can be as persuasive as Ethan. But my partner is an ignorant, laid back guy who has a girlfriend.

Who has a girlfriend.

"Ethan?"

"Hmm?"

"My partner has a girlfriend." I tell him, "And I am not jealous of her."

Ethan chuckles.

"Josh....think of the long term life ahead of you. And then ponder over if you're jealous or not that your partner will spend his whole life with his girlfriend, away from you."

Well, when he puts it that way, I certainly don't like the mental image. And with that thought, I realize how deep in shit I am. I try to take comfort in the fact that I am more worried about the 'away from you' part than other things.

After another round of discussions, we return back home. On the way back home, we are silent. My thoughts are muddled by the revelations in Ethan's story. In his story, I notice that Ethan played a very important part in curbing Vincent's attempts. Vincent may have eventually succeeded at having sexual relations with another girl and maybe even marry her, all the while remaining alongside Ethan. But Ethan made his disappointment and jealousy as clear as a cloudless day. On top of it, he incessantly demanded and pleaded Vincent to not go down the road that Vincent is planning to follow. Ethan's perseverance surely has helped in giving romantic inclination to their relationship. If Ethan had instead complied with Vincent, would both of them still end as a couple? Ethan will surely say 'yes' to that answer. But I am still not entirely sure.

Once at home, I hastily bid Ethan a goodbye. Mentally drained, I waste no time in reaching my room and collapsing on my bed, my conversation with Ethan being the highlight of my thoughts. Out of habit, I check my phone last time before succumbing to sleep and see a text message that I have received barely a minute ago. I automatically sit up when I see that it's from Neal,

'I am not angry at you, if you thought so. The game was cool.'

Call it a desperation act or a simple choice for distraction, unconsciously my hand moves towards the call button. It takes only two rings for my partner to pick up the call.

"You're up this late." He drawls immediately, his tone jesting. No hello, no nonsense greeting.

"So are you." I drawl back, "Apparently worried of making a wrong impression."

"Oh? You've mistaken once more, Lichinsky." Neal says, scoffing a laugh, "It was I easing your conscience. After all, I run the paper." He continues in a sarcastic tone, "So, it's you who should be worrying about making the right impression." He ends up laughing, destroying his act of snobbishness.

"Yeah, you have no idea." I mutter back, my voice too muffled for him to make out my words. Not that it matters. He is busy laughing his ass off.

But it's true. I do desire to make the right impression on him but certainly not for the reason he may assume. My life has suddenly become so complicated.

  8. The Gay And The Lamentable

"This is unethically taking liberty of your position, Mr. Stephens. I am very disappointed in you."

I watch as Neal bows his head down at being reprimanded. His expressions are stoic so I can't make out if he is embarrassed or ireful or guilty at being lashed out at.

"If I see someone getting discourteously and incessantly insulted in The Plutocracy again, I might just have to stop your paper from getting published." Lev Ivanov, the principal of our school, continues, his steely gaze directed at Neal.

Neal turns his head up, his face still stoic, an ugly, bluish bruise forming on his right cheekbone, "I apologize, sir. I'll make sure it's not repeated again." He gives a sideways glance towards the corner where Duato is standing. Duato'sbottom lip is busted and his shirt is slightly bloodied, "However, my complaint regarding Duato's retaliation still stands, sir."

"You deserved it, prick." Duato snaps.

"Enough." Ivanov snaps back sharply, "You have no entitlement to speak freely, Mr. Blanter." He says to Duato. "You have certainly crossed limits. You had no right to bring people from outside into our school premises and you certainly had no right to attack one of your fellow companions." Ivanov turns towards the school coordinator, who is standing silently beside us, "Natasha, please call Duato's parents."

"But, Sir,-" Duato protests.

Ivanov simply raises a hand and cuts him off. He is a very strict principal, very scary. I am not surprised that Duato shuts up immediately. Then Ivanov turns his gaze at me, making me swallow audibly.

"I am very disappointed in you too, Mr. Lichinsky." He says to me, disappointment more than clear on his angry face.

"Uh, Sir, I-" I stutter.

"He was just helping me." Neal interrupts, defending me. "It's not like he had intentions of fighting."

"Yes," I add, "I just saw Duato cornering Neal...and I came to help."

I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. I obviously don't want my parents to get involved. Father will not be happy to know that I got myself involved in a fight.

"It will still not be tolerated, Mr. Lichinsky." Ivanov thunders, looking at me, "if you see something wrong, you immediately call for the nearest faculty member. You don't cavalierly get involved in the wrongdoing."

"I am sorry, sir. I simply acted on impulse, not wanting anyone to get hurt. I'll take care in the future." I mutter audibly.

Ivanov appraises me for a moment, with his cold eyes. Then he sighs tightly, "Alright, I am going to let you off on a warning, simply because you were helping your friend. But that doesn't mean you'll be let off the hook if I see you in a similar situation again."

I breathe in relief, "Thank you, Sir. I'll make sure I don't disappoint you again."

"You better." Ivanov grunts and then turns at Neal, "And you, sir, need to show me the subjects handled in The Plutocracy."

"Yes, of course, sir." Neal replies tightly, "Though I assure you Duato is the only one I wrote about so...honestly."

Ivanov simply grunts, "Meet me at the end of the school, Mr. Stephens. I'll discuss your paper then. And you better not publish demeaning things in your paper again."

He dismisses Neal and I, turning to reprimand an already humiliated Duato some more. Well, he deserves it. Personally, I am astonished that the principal let go of Neal and I so easily. We haven't exactly left Duato scratch free plus it is Neal's publicizing the wrongs of Duato that infuriated him in the first place. I shouldn't complain. Duato has certainly crossed some invisible line. Getting people from outside school because he has turned into too much of a loser to get support from the students of this school. Then he gallantly corners Neal in the early morning along with his 'gang'. It is a good thing that I was already looking for Neal in the first place. I end up finding them in a compromising situation, with three guys holding down Neal as Duato was preparing to clock him. I can't even explain the sudden furry I felt. All I know is that Duato had that busted lip coming to him. Once I had taken down one of the guys holding down Neal, Neal faced no problem in single handedly fending off the other two guys. That was a surprise to me of course. I don't know, every time Neal displays his machismo in such arenas, it always leaves me flabbergasted. Again, that is probably because he doesn't seem enough strong to be capable of defending himself so well. And I again remind myself, that a fight requires more skill than strength.

Finding myself in the principal's office this early on a Wednesday morning was something off schedule for me. Well, so was finding Neal in a helpless situation. And so was a teacher spotting us amidst a fight. And so was-

You get the idea.

As soon as we are out of the principal's office and out of earshot of the receptionist, I turn towards Neal.

He is already looking at me sideways.

He is smirking.

I shake my head, "You're finding this amusing, aren't you?"

"Look at the bright side, Lichinsky." Neal says, grinning, "Duato won't be bothering me again."

"And how do you know that?" How can he be confident that the principal punishing Duato is not going to infuriate him more?

Neal shrugs, "He'll be suspended for a few days. And since it's our final year, when he returns back he won't do anything to risk his chances to get into a good university."

We have entered the corridor which is vacant at the moment. The classes have obviously started. I slow down a little.

"How do you know he'll be suspended?" I accuse.

Neal slows down too though his face displays giddiness. I notice that he is being suspiciously happy, as if he had been waiting for this moment since a long time. It is actually surprising, how jolly he seems at the prospect of Duato getting suspended. He abruptly turns towards me and grins, "I am good at guessing. And even though Duato alone hitting me might put a doubt in Ivanov Sir's mind, but the outsiders joining Duato for such an act won't be tolerated well by Sir."

I frown.

"Trust me." Neal says, noticing my dubious face, "I have had several encounters with Ivanov Sir to know how his brain works. He won't take this lightly."

"If you say so." I mumble.

"Plus, I won't be writing against Duato anymore. So, he wouldn't have any reason to bother me again." Neal says.

I scoff a laugh, "Now that's a downer, isn't it?"

Neal frowns, though he is smiling, "What do you mean?"

"Well," I say, "It's not everyday people get to see you expressing distaste against someone. You, more than anybody else, should know how fervent gossip diggers are the students here."

Neal shrugs, "Who cares about them?" he laughs, "I got what I wanted. Duato can go to hell for all I care now."

"Got what you wanted, huh?"

Neal shrugs, "He is almost a social pariah now. Plus he'll be suspended, probably scolded at home too. That's enough for his punishment."

Neal actually looks very serious while saying that. I roll my eyes discreetly. Punishment? Where are we? In the Middle Ages?

"You didn't tell what Duato did to aggravate you so much?" I ask instead, making my question sound casual. Neal wasn't inclined towards telling me about it last week, but maybe if I be nonchalant about it now, he may spill it out as something of no importance. He definitely seems in a very good mood right at this moment.

"If I wanted to do that, I would have written it in my paper." He sounds nonchalant alright but his refusal is as clear as day. I feel my ears getting warm at the rejection. Neal suddenly halts, making me stop in my tracks too. I turn to face him as he does the same, making me look down at him since he is shorter. He suspires, seemingly contemplating something. Then he begins anew, "Since you're not a 'gossip digger', as you so beautifully put it," he rolls his eyes jestingly, "I'll let you know that Duato was a bastard to someone close to me. Yes," he cuts me off when I open my mouth to say something, "He was that much of a bastard to make me antagonize him so fiercely."

"What did he do?" I say, before Neal can change his mind. My heart quickens, half in anticipation and half in relief. I should have known that Neal will not target a student just because he is capable of doing so. Duato did something which made him deserve what he got. At least that is what Neal is saying. But my mind is reveling in the fact that Neal is finally opening up to me. The last Saturday when I had called him beyond midnight, we had ended up talking gibberish for long minutes. Nothing relevant but just humorous bantering. But even after talking for so long, we hadn't said anything remotely personal. So, I am definitely thrilled at the moment as Neal prepares to tell why he is so angry at Duato.

Neal smirks, "You're awfully curious for not being a 'gossip digger'."

Oh well, don't I know all about my curiosity.

"I just want to know what it is that can offend you so much." I answer him honestly.

Neal remains silent for a moment, pursing his lips and looking down the corridor thoughtfully. He is obviously wondering if he should tell me or not. He looks at me and sighs heavily, probably coming to a decision.

"He did something very wrong to someone very close to me." he says.

"You have already said that."

"I know."

"Then don't be iterative."

"Hey, I am trying."

"You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable, Neal. I understand that. We are not best of friends."

Neal grimaces, waving his hand in my face, "The situation is simple enough- you asking and me answering. No chick-flick moments, please."

"Alright." I roll my eyes, "Go on."

Neal chortles, shaking his head.Thenhe sighs again, "Duato...he h-"

"-hurt someone close to you." I end it for him, making him grin sheepishly, "I am assuming he bothered Tanya?"

Neal frowns, "Tanya?"

"Yeah, your girlfriend." The word 'girlfriend' sounds foreign coming from me as if I have to put an effort at saying it. Ethan has seriously messed up mind with his words since the weekend.

Neal's eyebrows make way to his hairline, "My girlfriend?" he asks, "Dude, I don't even know any Tanya, I don't know how you can say that she is my girlfriend." He laughs.

"Huh?" I say stupidly, "Are you joking? I am talking of Tanya-" I pause abruptly, realizing my mistake, "Uh...I mean, Ananya. Shit, I am sorry."

"Oh." Realization dawns on his face, but he makes no issue of I addressing his girlfriend by the wrong name. Curse my memory. Why can't sharp brains and photographic memories be attributes of the therians too? I would have preferred that over our strength. I am seriously in need of those traits. Neal frowns, smirking slightly, making his face look like an ugly grimace, "Who told you that she is my girlfriend?"

"Uh...no one." I realize that I have actually never heard of them going out....but both of them are mostly together.

"You just assumed that we are together?" he is laughing now.

I feel my ears getting warm again, "Well, I hardly see you two apart."

Neal chuckles some more, "Well, sorry to burst your bubble..." Neal immediately sobers up, looking seriously at me, "but Ananya was actually dating Duato."

"...What?"

"Yup."

Well...as shocking the piece of news about Ananya and Duato dating is; not just for me, but for all the students of this school; I find myself concentrating on something entirely different. Ananya is not Neal's girlfriend. Ananya is not Neal's girlfriend. Ananya is not-

I clear my throat and begin, "So...um, you and Ananya are not...?"

He sighs, "I wish." He mutters then laughs awkwardly.

"You like her?" I blurt out.

He shrugs, nonchalant, but I can see the tip of his ears turning pink, "What's not to like?"

"Well..."

"At least she is better than Natalie." He taunts, smirking.

"Hey," I snap, "I am not after her anymore." I tell him as we resume our walk at a slow pace. I can't even remember the last significant talk I had with Natalie.

"Yeah, I noticed..." Neal mutters again, "I also noticed you checking Ananya out a few times."

I give him an 'are you kidding me?' look, to which he pointedly shrugs. I roll my eyes, "As you said, she has nothing to be disliked." I smile back, tightlipped. "Besides, I can check out whoever I want." I add for my benefit.

"Yeah, right." He says sarcastically.

"So...Ananya was dating Duato?" I ask.

Neal sighs again, "Yeah. Listen...well, I am assuming you already know, but I'll still say it anyway.You're not supposed to tell this to anyone."

I shake my head in exasperation, "I don't run a public newspaper."

"Don't be a smartass. Don't tell Aakir or Faith...or whoever is close to you. It's Ananya's business. I don't even have the right to tell you as much as I have already said."

I breathe out heavily, "Yes, I won't. I wasn't going to, anyways." I mumble.

"Yeah....so I can't tell you the details. I'll just let you know he wasn't very nice to her and he did some things...not very nice things. Ana was upset for days."

"I thought Duato was after Angie." I say after a moment as I think of the issue.

"Yeah, he even cheated on Ana." He blurts. He grimaces, "Listen, let's not talk about this. As I said, it's Ana's business and I have already revealed quite a lot."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Is your class on this floor?"

"No, first."

"Mine's on second. Come on, let's go."

We increase our speed and climb the staircase hastily. Neal's steps are bouncy.The bruise, the size of Russia on his cheek, hardly seems to affect him. He instead looks freshly energized as if he hasn't been in a fight just a few minutes before. His excitement and happiness filled aura feels more potent with his exultant state. His aura reverberates with his steps, overpowering even my powerful aura. When we reach the first floor, Neal halts, probably to bid me goodbye.

"Don't tell about Ananya to anyone." He warns me again.

I roll my eyes, "Goodbye, Neal." I say and start to walk away.

"Josh?"

I halt again and turn back.

Neal smiles genuinely, "Thanks for helping me in the morning against Duato."

I smile back, "You're welcome."

I watch, almost in slow motion, as Neal lifts his left hand and punches my right upper arm playfully, "Goodbye!" he turns and starts climbing the next set of stairs, taking two at a time.

The sudden jolt of an unknown sensation starts to fade away as Neal's aura disappears from the distance. I stand there, dumbfounded as he disappears from my line of sight. I remain in a stupor for several seconds, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible state because of which I feel locked on my place. As I come to my senses, I realize what has me frozen on the spot.

Neal just touched me.

It was just a friendly punch, expressed as a gesture of goodbye by Neal, but still, he touched me. Ethan's explanation behind the physical intimacy had obviously raised my expectations regarding this particular sensation. Like those flimsy moments, upon Ethan words, I started to expect a simple touch from my partner to set butterflies in my stomach, to send pleasurable shivers down my spine or be like an electric current passing through my system, making me feel all sorts of mushy things.

But my partner's touch is nothing of those sorts.

Not to be mistaken, it is definitely a good feeling. More good than I can ever explain in words. But it isn't any of those clichéd sensations. It is simply an overdose of Neal's aura. As Ethan said, the energy waves emitted from Neal's body enter without dilution into my own. The end result is me feeling as exceptionally happy and excited as Neal's aura generally exhibits, and at the same time feeling aesthetically calm at feeling so. The additional power in his aura just enhances the feeling even more.

It is one thing to just sense his aura at a distance and be beguiled by or faintly feel the unmistakable exhilaration he disposes and it is totally different to first-hand experience the emotions that result into that exhilarated state; to experience that positive apprehension predisposed in Neal's aura. That...that had felt nice. And the touch hadn't even lasted two seconds. I can understand now why Ethan said that I'll start desiring the touch. It is somewhat like marijuana but with addiction being the only side effect. Or, in Neal's nerdy terminology, it maybe something like my battery charger or maybe a software installed for a better performance, only with the added benefit of felicitousness.

My whole day passes by in daydreams of Neal's fleeting touch and the news that he isn't dating Tan-Ananya. The whole thing has me in such a good mood, that I do not even pause to ponder over how gay, pun intended, I am being. The irrational part of me argues that non-sexually enjoying a guy's touch doesn't make me gay. Even my happiness behind Ananya and Neal not dating may be explained as a subconscious need to have most of the attention of my partner on me, in a non-gay way of course. My explanations to myself are as vague in intensity as the impact of Ananya and Duato's revealed relation to me. I let myself bask in my ludicrous reasoning, not letting myself feel discomforted by how preposterously happy I am being over such a futile event.Even my 'friends' gossiping about the fight that took place in the morning doesn't bother me.

As predicted by Neal, the news of Duato's suspension spreads by the time it's lunch. Some people mistake my happiness to be because of that. Well, I am not clearing that doubt. Aakir has a knowing look on his face but thankfully he is enough sensible to not tease me about it and destroy my own personal sanctuary. I make plans to meet Neal at the end of the day but realize that he is supposed to meet the principal at that time. Dejected, I follow Aakir home.

My mood remains uplifted through the day though.

Ethan and Vincent have been here for four days and five nights. They have taken upon themselves to explore the city of Liepāja. Though my family members are ready to take leaves from their work alternatively, to be Ethan and Vincent's guide, the latter refuses that sort of assistance. They are accustomed to exploring lands on their own and are glad enough that we are letting them stay at our place. We did take the job of making their itinerary. Now they return late in the evening every day, showing the various pictures they took all day long. Both of them will make sure to talk to me every night, telling me more and more about how to go about my situation.

I have found myself relating to more of Vincent's past situation, so I generally end up asking him about his experiences during his dilemma. Vincent is more factual in expression, as opposed to Ethan who functions on emotions more. They are like the opposite hands, different in functioning but perfect when entwined together.Moreover, I have noticed that Vincent is more at ease when Ethan is around, even if the latter doesn't talk. The mere presence of his partner is enough for Vincent.

Despite their disinclination towards me developing only a friendly relationship with my partner, I have resolutely remained fixed upon my decision. Even my absurd happy state has not managed to shake that decision of mine. And just a week full of insightful conversation with Ethan and Vincent wouldn't nearly be enough to suddenly make me romantically like my partner. Ethan and Vincent, despite being confident upon my failure, encourage me to pursue the situation as I see wise. Both prominently push me to focus on developing a very close friendship with Neal, something to which I am not at all opposed.

The next day I find myself in an equally good mood. So is Aakir for that matter, as he has plans to see his partner at the end of the school. The whole morning I keep contemplating if I should casually ask Neal to just hang out. Our last jaunt may have been a failure, not to mention incredibly awkward but I still expect agreement from Neal for another get together, owing to our improving rapport since last week. This time I would not want many of our friends to be around either, though I will be taking Neal's opinion into consideration.

As luck may have it, I encounter Neal while exiting the school doors. I had just been on the verge of sending him a message but there won't be any need anymore. He is with Ananya, as predicted.

"Hey, Neal." Aakir greets my partner more enthusiastically than I do.

"Hey." Neal smiles back. I greet Ananya politely, to which she sweetly replies. Somehow she looks much sweeter today than she already is, probably because now she is not my partner's girlfriend. But I don't linger on the thought.

"So, is your paper going to be less of some of the articles this Monday?" I ask Neal, referring to his discussion with Ivanov yesterday.

"No, not really." Neal replies as we walk towards the school gates, "Ivanov Sir objected to certain things, but I persuaded him otherwise."

"I think he has a soft spot for you." I tell him, "He is very strict otherwise."

"It's the perks of being an overall good student for years." Neal smiles, tightlipped.

"Neal doesn't write lies." Ananya says, "And students don't object to mild gossip-"

"-they encourage it." Aakir nods.

"-Yes, right. So, Ivanov sir anyways didn't have much of a ground to stop Neal." Ananya finishes, smiling at Neal. Neal is smiling back at her, his lips twisted upward on the left side, as if he is smirking. "You're sure, you don't want a ride?" Ananya asks Neal.

"Nah, I'll be good. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ananya says goodbye to me and Aakir. She kisses Neal on the cheek before departing towards the parking lot. Neal silently begins to walk along us towards the school gates.

"Didn't get your car?" Aakir asks him, looking as much befuddled as me to see Neal walking along us towards the exit of the school.

"It got busted in the morning." Neal replies, a twinge of irritation in his voice, "It wouldn't start. I have left it at the mechanic's. I'll be going there now."

"You're going to walk?" I ask him. The nearest mechanic is a mile away. But I really doubt Neal's car betrayed him this near to school. But in any case, if he is planning to walk, which is unlikely, I may accompany him. A good reason to hang out with him.

Neal laughs, "No, Lichinsky." He shakes his head, grinning, "It's with the mechanic near my place. Not a short enough distance for me to walk. I'll take the bus." He sobers up, now looking ahead of us, "I am travelling in public transport after a long time." He says in a quiet voice.

I smirk, "Do you need a babysitter?"

Aakir chuckles.

Neal shoots me a dirty look, "Speak for yourself, Lichinsky."

"Well," I drawl, "I am not the one used to with shiny cars."

"Ahan, you're only used to a perfect family that doesn't require a babysitter." He retorts, smirking.

"You say that as if that's a bad thing."

"Well," Neal begins.

"What's he doing here?" Aakir interrupts.

Neal and I break our bantering and look at what Aakir's indicating. Standing at our school gates, looking as much a tourist as he actually is, is our American guy, Ethan. He is nonchalantly standing there in his Bermuda shorts, wearing a tourist hat and adorning a DSLR camera over his neck. He spots us in the distance or more like senses our auras as Aakir and I have sensed him. He is grinning as he awaits us.

"I don't know." I say, surprised.

"Your dad?" Neal asks skeptically, as we three walk towards the gates.

I look at him with disbelief, "Does he look like my dad?" Ethan is a red head, for fuck sake.

"I was asking Aakir." He ripostes, being a smarty pants.

Aakir chuckles, "Dude, I don't have a dad. He is a...family friend of ours. He is staying at our place."

"Don't have a dad?" Neal splutters. He winces at how blunt his question comes out. "I am sorry."

"No problem." Aakir grins, indicating that he doesn't mind. And he seriously doesn't mind. He sees no point in being upset at lacking something that didn't seem to want him in the first place.

Before, however, both of these can carry out a mushy conversation and have a heart to heart, we reach closer to the school gates. I watch Ethan and smile at him. Only, he isn't looking at me. The smile which he had put on moments before doesn't look like a smile anymore as his mouth awkwardly remains hung open. His greenish eyes are trained at Neal. All in all, he looks a little taken aback. I sigh. I should have warned him about Neal's aura but hey, it's not like I knew he was going to turn up at my school or even meet my partner in the future. I didn't anticipate any of our guests to meet my partner. Plus Neal's aura has always been a sensitive topic for me.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Aakir asks him, smiling hugely at him. Ethan is wonderful with us youngsters and it literally took no time for Aakir to find his new idol.

Ethan snaps his head towards Aakir at his voice. His pleasant expressions are long gone now, as he expresses befuddled shock. Aakir tames his gaiety at the less than welcome expressions on Ethan's face.

"Hmm, hey." Ethan says quietly, absentmindedly, his eyes returning towards Neal, "This is your friend?" he asks, making Neal stop next to us too.

"Uh," I start awkwardly, "Yeah, this is Neal." I say, emphasizing on his name so Ethan knows he is my partner, "Neal, this is Ethan...our uncle." I finish lamely.

Neal smiles back with a nod. "Pleasure to meet you." He says politely.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine." Ethan says, his voice sounding as if he is in a trance, his face expressing cautious shock.His greeting is slightly suspicious, making me be on guard instantly. The few days he has spent with us, he hasn't been this shady or just plain weird in his behavior. He takes a deliberate step forward and lifts his hand for a shake. Neal, not looking wary of Ethan's unusual behavior, cautiously returns the hand-shake.

"You dropped by just like that?" I ask Ethan, hoping to divert his attention from my partner. I don't know why but his gaze is unnerving as hell, especially when directed at my partner.

Ethan turns his head towards me, his eyebrows rising as if he isfor the first time realizing that I am here too, "Oh, yeah." He says, smiling tightly. He hasn't let go of Neal's hand yet, I notice. "I was passing by and saw the sign of your school. Decided to surprise you." He finishes, smiling again.

I can't help but notice that Ethan's smile is nothing like the warm smiles he has been giving in the past days. It seems deliberate as if he is forcing himself to smile. It obviously raises my guard even more.

"Um," Neal says, trying to snatch back his hand, "It was nice to meet you, Ethan..." he tugs his hand subtly but Ethan doesn't let go.

I take a step forward, "Ethan?" I say, indicating his hold on my partner.

"When did your birth occur?" Ethan asks Neal, ignoring us.

"How is that relevant?" Neal says in his usual satirical tone.

"How old are you?" Ethan asks again, taking another step towards Neal.

"Aye...Ethan, I think we should go." Aakir says, taking a step behind Ethan. He has obviously sensed Ethan's offensive stance as much as I have.

"Seventeen," Neal replies, unwavering andmatching Ethan's stare with his cold one. He tries to tug his hand back again but fails. Considering a therian is holding him, I don't think Neal is going to succeed either.

"Let go of him." I say quietly, stepping between Ethan and Neal. Ethan is deliberately making this situation awkward for all of us. I discreetly put a hand on Ethan's chest. His demeanor is seriously ticking me off.

Ethan smiles condescendingly, "I am just trying to have a nice chat, Josh."

"You can do that without holding my hand." Neal quips, sounding irked and again tugging on his hand.

"Let go." I say, again in a quiet voice, making sure to express my threatening poise. With me standing in front of him and Aakir standing at his back, he has no choice but to let go of Neal's hand. Elder or not, he still can't be a match for two mature therians.

Neal immediately takes a step back. I stare at Ethan for a moment who in turn has his eyes on Neal. I turn around to see Neal. His eyes move from Ethan to Aakir to me, his facial muscles taut.

"I'll see you later." Neal says in a tight voice, nodding at me and Aakir. He gives one ephemeral stare at Ethan and then turns around, swinging his bag on his shoulder and briskly walking away, probably towards the bus stop.

I return my gaze towards Ethan, "What the hell was that?" I ask him, my voice still low.

"How long has he been here?" He asks instead, his eyes still following Neal's form in the distance.

"You had no right to behave in such an undignified manner." I tell him, my temper short circuiting. Aakir briefly places a hand on my shoulder, expecting me to calm down. Calm down? I scoff, "My partner or not, you being our guest or not, you have no right to behave like this with any of my friends." Ethan is looking at me now, stoically. "I know his aura is different but that doesn't mean you jump him for it." I finish.

"Yeah, it doesn't mean that?" Ethan asks, his tone sarcastic. "Do you even know-"

"I don't care how bizarre his aura is." I thunder, stepping onto Ethan's face. I can't believe he is even thinking of justifying his behavior. "Neal is my partner and if his aura is a bother to you, please don't feel welcomed at my home." I snap and walk past him towards the woods.

As soon as I reach the woods, I break into a fast pace, hoping to relieve some of the tension in my muscles. How dare he? He has some galls to come to my country, to my city and behave like an imbecile with my people, not less than my partner! And to top it, he is ready to argue with me about it. Talk about a downer. He has made such a nice rapport with everyone at home in these few days. I can see all of it going down the drain. I have first-hand experienced the reprimands at questioning about Gwen aunt and my intentions and demeanor have always expressed concern for her, at least outwardly. Speaking against someone's partner is not at all tolerated in my family and I know now why. Since I have known that Neal is my partner, I just can't tolerate anybody antagonizing him. I don't even pause to consider if Neal is even in the right.

Ethan has crossed that invisible line. He has outwardly threatened my partner, somehow his antagonism coming off more impactful because he is a therian. And all just because my partner has a unique aura. Couldn't Ethan simply inquire about it later? What was the need for him to counter like that? What am I going to say to Neal when he'll ask about it? Obviously he'll ask about it. If we ignore the last few incidents with Duato, Neal is not the guy who gets threatened occasionally, especially not by men double his age. He didn't seem happy about Ethan's actions and I don't think he even should be.

When I reach home, I can sense only two therian auras at home. One of Gwen and one of Rome. I really wish father was here. I'll obviously be informing him about this. But I need to do that in person, so I discard calling him for this. Plus, it'd be better if Ethan is present as well when I raise the topic so he has no way to deny his actions.

I walk into the kitchen and drink a tall glass of water, trying to calm my nerves. But I still have too much of tension in my body. I move into our backyard, towards the green pasture where logs of wood are stacked one upon another. I quickly shed my clothes and make myself flux into a complete animal this time. And I continue to change forms, making my skin melt and reform continuously, taking shape of various animals ranging from cougar to tiger to wildebeest to other forms which may be a mixture of several animals together. I keep pushing myself to metamorphose iteratively. After some time, I flux back to my human form and put on my trousers. Then I begin to throw log after log of woods at the nearest tree.

Later than I anticipated but still soon enough Aakir breaks into our pasture from the woods. After reprieving some of the tension, I feel slightly better. Aakir notices me, half naked, punching the tree in the distance with wooden logs and he sighs heavily.

"You shouldn't have been that rude to him." He mutters as he starts walking towards me.

"Excuse me?" I ask, ireful, momentarily stopping my exercise.

Aakir sighs again. He sits on the porch, putting his bag beside him. "You literally told him to not step a foot inside the house, Josh. They have specially come here for you-"

"I didn't ask them to." I snap back. "Father did. I'll tell father about this incident and he deems this fit enough, then he can allow Ethan to stay here." I take a deep breath, "Which father probably won't." I look at Aakir, giving him an incredulous look, "Would you ask me to not be rude had he acted that way with Silvia?"

Aakir opened his mouth to say something but nothing escapes.

"Thought so." I mutter.

Aakir sighs again, "Alright, yeah, Ethan is not in the right, I agree. But he says he was surprised by the assault of Neal's aura. And he genuinely sounded very shocked."

I scoff, "So were you. So was Faith. You guys didn't get ready to rip out Neal's throat." I know I am exaggerating but I am pissed. "And whatever were you doing listening to his explanations?" giving him the 'you are the traitor' look.

He rolls his eyes, "Somebody had to calm the situation, don't you think? Anyways, he was pretty inquisitive about Neal."

I clench my fists, "You shouldn't have entertained him after I left."

"Hey, I was trying to diffuse the tension, okay?" Aakir snaps, "And I told him nothing...." He suddenly shrugs, "There isn't anything to tell in the first place. I did assure him that Neal is hundred percent human."

"That's not a point of debate!" I yell.

"I told him the same." Aakir gives me a 'duh' look.

"Is he going to return soon?" I ask, so I am prepared to not shower Ethan in my anger. I should refrain till father returns in the evening.

"He said he is going to join Vincent. He must return in evening, like always."

I retire inside soon. Aakir tries to engage me in some or the other activity or even some vague conversation. I ignore him. I instead think of sending text messages to Neal and my father, to apologize to the former and inform of the incident to the latter. I don't know how Neal will take my apology and I am thoroughly embarrassed as it is, so I procrastinate. As for father, I send a message, explaining in gist the situation, 'Ethan visited my school, misbehaved with my partner. Please return home soon.'

My father doesn't behave ignorantly in response to my text message. He immediately calls me and asks me what happened. I explain to him in detail what happened, reluctantly telling him that Ethan's reaction was due to my partner's aura. Father demands what do I mean by that and I hesitatively just say that my partner's aura is stronger than the usual human's. Father doesn't comment on it much and promises to be home early.

By the time it's early evening, I have severely calmed down. I understand Ethan's surprise upon my partner's aura but I don't understand his reaction. Conclusion is that I still think he is wrong. I hear Aakir talking on phone in his room and it suddenly strikes me that Aakir hasn't gone to meet Silvia as he had planned. Thinking of Neal and I's banter in the afternoon, I can't help but see the irony that Aakir is literally babysitting me. I feel guilty for being a hindrance in his plans. I get up, to walk to his room and apologize. But my phone ringing stops my steps. Cursing, I walk to my bed side table and pick up my phone. My mouth goes slightly agape as I see that it's Neal. I hastily pick it up.

"Hello?" I say.

"Ah, hey," Neal says, his voice coming as harsh whisper, "say, your friend is quite fascinated with me." Even his low voice manages to convey the sarcasm he intends.

"What?" I frown. Is he talking of Aakir?

"He is bloody sitting in my living room, talking to me like he owns me or something."

"What are you talking about?" I say, now severely confused. Aakir is surely not that fascinated to talk dominantly. Plus, Aakir is right in the house, in his room.

"Your uncle." Neal drawls, still whispering. My eyeswiden in realization, "He has been-"

"Neal, stop talking!" I yell, interrupting him.

Neal sighsand continues in his whispery tone, "I don't know what his deal is. He is asking me weird questions, being creepy as shi-"

"Neal, shut the fuck up!" I squall. "Don't talk, okay?"

"Uh, okay." Neal replies, sounding wary of my reaction. Aakir comes to my room as he hears my shouting.

"Okay." I say on phone, quickly thinking, "Is he, perchance, more than twenty-thirty feet away from you? Just say yes or no."

"No."

"Okay. Neal, don't talk about him, okay. He can hear you." I say, my mind going into panic mode. What the hell is Ethan doing, going to my partner's place?

Neal lets out a throaty laugh, "Dude, he is too far-"

The line cuts off. I draw the phone away from my ear and look at it as if it's a foreign object. I spend five seconds by motionlessly processing what has just happened. Then soon enough my horror-stricken panic gives way to alarming anxiety. Frantically, I open my call logs and call back Neal. I am greeted by only beep sounds on the other end; not even his voicemail.

"Fuck." The word escapes from my mouth, without conscious effort.

"What is it?" I hear Aakir behind me.

"Ethan is at Neal's place." My voice comes out horribly stricken. I give one panicky look to Aakir, who manages to look shocked too. I return to my phone, trying Neal's number again. I start moving outside my room simultaneously. The other line still greets me with nothing, making my stomach clench uncomfortably.

"We should go to his house." I say, my voice coming out slightly shaky. I keep trying Neal's number again. "Fuck." I whisper. "What the fuck is Ethan doing?"

"How the hell does he know where Neal stays?" Aakir asks.

"He must have followed him home." I say angrily. "We need to go to Neal's place."

"Do you know where Neal lives?" Aakir asks, once he is over his stupor.

"Hell if I know." I snap, frenziedly continuing to assault my phone as if I expect Neal's phone to start ringing anytime.

"You should know." Aakir snaps back, "He is your freaking partner."

"Sue me for not knowing." I yell at him and start descending the stairs.

"Did Neal say anything? What is Ethan doing?" Aakir asks, following me.

I shake my head, "He just said...he said that Ethan's asking weird questions. What the hell is he doing at Neal's house in the first place? What the fuck Neal's thinking, letting him get in the house? Shouldn't he first contact me or-"

"Okay, quit bitching." Aakir snaps, glaring at me. We awkwardly dangle at our feet, uncertain of what we should do.

"I don't trust Ethan." I say, my voice shaking. "I am quite sure he crushed Neal's cellphone or something."

Aakir raises his hand, asking me to shut up. He takes out his phone from his pocket and starts furiously typing into it.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask him.

Aakir gives me a pointed look, warning me to remain shut. I scowl at him but then I return to my phone too, trying Neal's number again. In vain, of course. I feel my heart in my throat as images of the worst possible scenario greet my mind. Through the haphazard phase, I vaguely hear Aakir talking to someone from our friend circle at school. I prepare myself to quetch him but then I hear him inquiring about Ananya. I let Aakir be on his quest.

I instead end up scrolling for number that I am sure would be able to do something. After pressing the call button, I wait for my father to pick up on the other end. As soon as he says hello, I am blasting him with the news of Ethan being at Neal's house and Neal's phone coming unreachable. My fidgety state makes me keep spilling worried thoughts in frenzy, clearly stating that I believe Ethan must have broken Neal's phone. My father is alert by the news of Ethan being at my partner's place alone. He asks for my partner's address, to which I awkwardly reveal my lack of knowledge. Father says he will call on Ethan's cellphone. As he disconnects, I don't feel very hopeful. I turn to Aakir who is scribbling on the notepad on the nearest wall.

"Yeah," he is saying on phone, "Yes, I understand. I know that curve. And there's nothing to worry, don't fret. Thanks, Ananya."

A relieved breath escapes me in a whoosh as I take step towards him. "You got the address." I state.

"Yup. Text it to Nik uncle and ask him to be there. I'll call Rufina aunt."

I am already memorizing the words and walking towards the exit of our house.

Aakir and I decide to take the spare car in our garage which we never use. I am partly thankful that we at least keep cars even if we don't use them. Searching for a wilder route to my partner's house just so we can turn into a faster animal wouldn't be exactly convenient considering the shortage of time. Aakir is behind the wheel soon. Within two minutes of our engine revving, I get a call from father. As expected, Ethan did not respond to his calls. Father tells me that he is leaving for Neal's place immediately. I again breathe in relief, owing to the fact that my father's office is nearer to Neal's place. Sometimes I really despise the secluded place in the jungle that we have made our home.

I am fidgety the whole ride, not even keeping track of where exactly we are going. I suppose Aakir is clear about the directions. I find myself again dialing Neal's phone number and again being greeted by the plain beep sounds. I look at Aakir sideways, who is driving quite fast, despite us not being fast enough as per the situation. He looks calm.

I on the other hand start envisaging the worst that could be happening. Ethan, even if he is amicably conversing with my partner, will surely not face a day more in my house, that's for sure.My attention comes to our way. We are now driving through a lone road towards the beach end. The area looks completely barren, making me wonder where the hell Neal exactly lives. I don't think I have ever been to this part of the city. I briefly wonder if we are even leading in the right direction. It doesn't seem like anybody lives in this direction, as the road leads to the sea. I open my mouth to object to Aakir but the narrow road soon gives way to an open dirt field, a huge house...a bungalow in fact, visible in the distance, right next to the white sand of the sea. It's a beach house.

With a sigh of relief I notice my father's moderate Chevrolet standing a little away from the commencing steps of the house. But then I wonder how long exactly Aakir and I have taken to reach here? It didn't seem like a long ride. Father's office is at least fifteen minutes from this place. I cannot believe we have taken longer than that. Then maybe my worry must have kept me fairly occupied to not realize how long we are taking.It's eerily silent as Aakir parks next to my father's car. The house has an indiscernible boundary with only plain sand extending beyond the driveway. Near enough, I sense the placidly placed auras in the house. Without further ado, I jump out of the car.

  9. The Alpha Tales

Neal is richer than I thought him to be. His house is similar to the Victorian houses found in the United Kingdom, only double the size. It's as odd as it is extravagant, considering it's a beach house. His front door opens into a large living room; exceedingly large as compared to the normal sizes. A plain wooden frame divides it into two sections, one containing the plush sofas, while the other expresses a plain hall that ends in a vestibule, the latter, which I assume, leads to the backside of the house, the sea side. The wooden frame contains apanoramic sized glass, effectively separating the two sections. Everything in the living room, from the bronze vases to the marble flooring to the fancy curtains up to the hefty chandelier on the top screams money.

The huge mahogany entrance door to the house was ajar when Aakir and I entered. Neal, who is sitting on one of the plush sofas, has his eyes trained on us as we enter. He is sitting on the edge, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He looks slightly petrified but above everything he looks annoyed and massively angry. Reprieved to see him in a healthy state and ignoring his annoyed looks, I dart my eyes toward the other two people. Ethan and my father have spoken not one word upon mine and Aakir's entrance. They are engrossed in their own little staring match, a few feet away from where Neal is sitting. Ethan's eyes flicker above my father's shoulder, taking in our sight. He needn't though; I am sure he can sense us well.

"Are you really going to retaliate?" Ethan asks my father, sounding almost tired. "You know there is no point."

"You're not taking the boy, Ethan." Father replies placidly, but his tone is final.

Ethan scoffs, "You really don't want to be caught in the middle of this, Nikolai."

My father turns half way towards Aakir and I, "Take him home." He says tersely to us.

I look at Neal who is furiously frowning, his eyes darting from my father to me. I gesture for him to come. His expressions turn more annoyed, if possible.

"I am not going anywhere with you." Neal snaps, glaring daggers at me.

"Yes, he isn't." Ethan says, staring murderously at me.

"I am not going anywhere with you either." Neal snaps at him. "This is my house. All of you need to get out of here." He hollers.

"That's not your decision to make." Ethan quips.

"Excuse me?" Neal snaps.

"Now we can do this maturely," Ethan says, ignoring Neal and instead glaring at my father, who hasn't budged one inch from his position in front of Ethan, "or you're really going to regret your decisions, Nikolai."

"I want you to leave, Ethan. I want you to go back to your realm." Father replies, his tone as placid as ever.

Ethan huffs, a disbelieving expression on his face, "You're willing to turn against an occultist for a mere servant? Nikolai, you're better than that. Think with a sane mind. The family in which you're giddily inviting Neal in will cease to remain in the coming future if you stand against our rulers. You can sense him," Ethan flicks his head towards Neal, "you know that he belongs to the First Occultist."

I discreetly try to motion for Neal to get up and traverse towards us. Neal catches my eye but only settles at glaring hatefully at me.

"The boy is not going with you, Ethan." Father repeats, almost monotonously.

"Is that a challenge?" Ethan snaps, his frowning stare hardening.

My eyes, which are mostly trained at Neal, turn fully towards Ethan in an odious glare. Ethan is unfazed as he continues to glare at my father, not even acknowledging his fluxing arm, which is turning into a monstrous claw right in the sight of my partner. I almost groan at how fast things are moving.

"What the hell?" Neal says, his voice shaking as he hastily gets up. His eyes are glued to Ethan's fluxed hand in a mixture of disbelief, horror and annoyance.

"Josh, take him." My father commands, not letting his eyes leave Ethan's sight.

"I am not going anywhere." Neal snaps, "I need a fucking phone."

"Don't make it tough for you." Ethan says, stoically staring at my father, his fluxed arm threatening him wordlessly.

"I think you've mistaken for whom it'll be tougher." Aakir says, walking and standing behind my father.

"Stop, Ethan." Father repeats.

"Neal!" I hiss, walking along the periphery towards him.

He gives me a petrified look and begins to inch away, towards the other end of the living room.

"That boy is not your property." Ethan says, his face twisting in a grimace.

"Neither is he yours."

"He belongs to my realm, Nikolai. He belongs to the occultist of my realm."

"Shit." Neal whispers harshly as my father also fluxes his arm. He moves away at a greater speed now, briskly walking to escape from the other end.

"Neal!" I exclaim, exasperated at his panic, walking towards him.

Ethan distractedly looks towards Neal, which gives more than enough opportunity to my father to grasp Ethan's throat.

"I do not want to fight." Father declares hastily as Ethan tries to pry his arm off, "I simply want you to leave with Vincent. Your luggage will be waiting for you outside the door of my house. The members of my cult will empower you, Ethan. Do not try to mess up."

I am solely focused on following Neal as he retreats backwards towards the other opening. I motion for him to calm down but that only manages to infuriate and make him more anxious, making him fidgety as he keeps going backwards. In the blink of an eye a figure approaches from behind Neal, from the same vestibule he had been planning to escape from. My sudden reflexes have me on high alert until I realize that it's just Rufina aunt drenched in water from head to toe, wearing a long cotton dress that reaches her feet. I am assuming she has swum to this side. Before Neal can even realize her presence, Rufina aunt holds him from behind, one arm keeping his protests at bay and the other hand pressing forcefully in the pressure point right below his right ear. It takes only five seconds for Neal's eyes to shut close as he loses consciousness. He falls limp in Rufina aunt's arms. She slowly lets Neal's body fall to the ground and she looks up, towards us.

Ethan notices my aunt's entry, his hands trying to pry off my father's but not entirely succeeding.

"You're a fool if you people think you can escape with this." Ethan says, "How long will you hide him, Nikolai? It's only a matter of time before I return back here with triple the force you've restrained me with. You're wrongly keeping Neal with you. And you're going to make your whole family regret your decision."

My father lets go of Ethan's throat, making the latter stumble back. Caught in the limelight, Ethan looks around only to find himself surrounded by the four of us with Neal peacefully lying behind aunt Rufina. Of course he can make the calculation about who will be escaping with whom tonight. Even with Vincent's help, he can't overpower my family.

"I'll repeat again. Your luggage is waiting outside my house. Gather that along with your partner and leave my city." Father says.

Ethan glares hatefully at my father before giving one brief glance at a helpless Neal. He has no choice but to walk out of that door. And he does so, with heavy steps, each thud of his step echoing a silent promise of coming back for vengeance.

As soon as we feel his aura disappear form the distance, our shoulders sag. Father fluxes his arm back into his human arm. He takes out his cell phone and immediately dials a number. The way he starts off with instructions, I assume he is talking with Terry uncle. The rest of us remain glued to our places. I am stuck in my place more out of shock than anything else. Father soon disconnects and rubs a hand on his face.

"Alright." He says, turning towards us. Aakir is standing almost next to him while I am standing midway between him and my partner. Next to my partner's unconscious body is Rufina aunt, looking worried. "Aakir, Josh," he points at us, using his voice that you can barely think of countering, "Go home immediately. Terry and Gwen are the only ones at home. Make sure that Ethan and Vincent depart without incident. Ruf and I'll bring him home," he nods at Neal, "after some time."

Aakir immediately starts to walk towards the front door, to exit the house. I stand my ground, "But..." I start, "I want to stay." I say. He should understand that I would want to be with my partner at this moment.

"Josh," he says in a tired, yet strict voice, "Go."

"Rufina aunt can go." I suggest.

"Don't argue with me, Josh." Now my father looks angry and I am momentarily surprised that father is expressing something. But I still do not move.

"But-" I start again.

"It's already enough that you didn't tell me about your partner's aura. And your failure at convincing your own partner to flee with you is again more than enough." He snaps suddenly, "Now, do me a favor and at least listen to what I am saying. Just Go."

The last time my father had angrily lashed at me was when I was eight years old, for a reason that I don't seem to remember at the moment. I only remember that I was shit scared and had decided to never cause anger to my father again. Apparently, I seem to have forgotten all about that decision as I have yet again made my father yell at me in anger. My father's stoic stance in all these years had somehow convinced me that he never gets angry anymore. But apparently my judgment has come to be wrong. I don't push his buttons more. I take one glance at my sleeping partner and follow Aakir outside.

Both of us remain quiet as we get in the car and start driving away, towards our house. I am partly thankful that Aakir doesn't say anything. I am in too much of a shock to understand him anyways. Besides, I feel abashed after my father's reprimanding. My thoughts still manage to steer towards the event that has just occurred. What does Ethan mean that Neal belongs to his realm? Neal is a pure human, right? He suddenly seems very important to therians of the First Realm. Does Neal know about us? What is his connection with therians? What is going to happen now? Father said that he'll be bringing Neal home. What about Neal's family? Now that I recall I didn't sense any other aura, human or otherwise inside his house...

"There was nobody in his house." I voice loudly, staring out of the window at the darkness that has fell.

"Yes," Aakir agrees, "His family must not be home."

I don't say anything else. I see the familiar woods around me as we near our house. Aakir clears his throat. "Hmm...Josh?"

"Hmm?"

"Neal could see our transformations."

"Hmm?"

"Fluxing. Our animal forms...Neal could see that."

I blink, still looking out of the window. I don't say anything but it dawns on me what Aakir intends to say. Our ability to metamorphose is a gift, a secretive one at that. To preserve its secrecy, we have been granted another benefit. During changing forms, our bodies emit high frequency waves, creating haziness in vision for the spectator whose line of thought doesn't match with that frequency.

Usually humans who believe in the existence of our species are able to see our metamorphosis since in their thoughts they know of our existence and the waves resulting from that thought overlaps with the waves emitted by our body. But an oblivious individual who has no knowledge of our species will not be able to witness our transformation; his vision will turn hazy at our parts that our converting.

I recall how horror stricken Neal was looking as he took in Ethan's and my father's fluxed arms, his gaze imperceptibly trained on the metamorphosed arms. He could definitely see their transformed arms. Which implies that he is already aware of the existence of therians.

I don't get time to marvel over that much. We reach our house. Cautiously, Aakir and I step out. I am able to sense only three auras inside the house. I optimistically believe those are Terry uncle, Gwen aunt and Rome. As we enter the house, Terry uncle greets us immediately.

"Good, you are here. You guys stay here." He says to Aakir and I. "I am going to go and get Nina from the shop."

"They have left?" Aakir asks for added measure.

Terry uncle sighs, "Yes. Vincent wasn't aware of Ethan's excursion. But nonetheless, they have left. They know better that two of them stand no chance against all of us. Just stay in the house and stay alert. I'll be back soon."

And with that he takes the car keys from Aakir and disappears. Aakir and I sit in our living room, awaiting the elders. We don't speak. It feels an eon to me after which I hear my father's car stop outside our house. Almost coinciding is the sound of another car, probably Terry uncle returning as well. All the elders enter simultaneously into the house. Aakir and I immediately get up and make way for my father who is carrying a still unconscious Neal. Carefully, he places Neal on one of couches. My mother almost immediately crowds over Neal, her usually happy face contorted with worry.

"He is just unconscious, Nina. He'll come around." Rufina informs my mother. The latter sighs in exasperation, still worriedly looking at Neal. "Though," Rufina aunt continues, walking past us, "He may face a massive headache when he wakes up."

A shriek, coming from the top of our house, coincides with the sounds of worry my mother lets out.

"God, not again." I hear Aakir mutter behind me.

I simply sigh. Rome is obviously not used to with the kind of aura Neal is radiating. I should have known that it'll trigger Rome's episode. My mother, ignoring the screams, sits beside Neal's head. I make move to walk towards Neal but Aakir holds my arm back. I frown at him. He simply jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen where my father and Terry uncle's auras have travelled. I hesitate, looking over at Neal again. Mother is gushing over him, speaking gibberishwhile lifting his head to drop on her lap. I sigh and follow Aakir towards our kitchen, which is sort of a discussion room most of the times.

"-At most we have a week." Terry uncle is saying, intensely staring at my father. The latter sits, calmly and stoically. As usual.

"Minimum four days." Father mumbles.

Terry uncle shakes his head, "Minimum five days. They won't get a flight back to Kansas till tomorrow night. And they need two days to travel back too."

"We need to start preparing." Father says, sitting straighter.

"We can't go back." Terry uncle whispers, staring at his long time best friend. If I were not a therian, I would have probably not heard him with Rome shouting at the top of his lungs in the house. For a moment, my father and uncle just stare at each other as if telepathically conversing.

"Dad?" I interrupt their eye staring game.

Father looks at me, gazing at me for a long time, scouting me. He then sighs and then turns back to Terry uncle, "We have to go back." He says, louder this time.

"That's insane." Terry uncle mumbles, looking slightly angry.

"Go back where?" I ask.

Terry uncle looks at me and stares at me for as long as my father just did. Then he turns towards my father too.

"We can...we can hand him over-"

"No." my father interrupts.

"Nik, listen to me. Josh can shift to USA. They can stay together. I think his partner would be allowed to live a life, Nikolai.We are not living in the BCtime anymore."

"What are you guys talking about?" I ask, my own voice getting louder as Rome's shrieks grow even louder above us.

My father shakes his head, "Josh wouldn't allow it and neither would I."

Terry uncle huffs, "As much as I am in support of you, you should know that this is suicide. Neal belongs there."

"Belongs where?" I cry out, exasperated.

My father looks at me again. After a moment he begins, looking at me andfrowning unhappily, "Why didn't you tell me about his aura?"

"I didn't think it was significant-"

"Really?" my father asks, his face stoic but his vociferated voice is sarcastic.

The tone immediately makes me shut up. An uncomfortable silence emerges as we all awkwardly stare at each other. Two times in a row. Two times in a row my father has expressed his anger. I don't know if I should feel happy that he is expressing something towards me or abashed at being rebuked.

"It's partly my fault." Aakir says after an eon of silence. Confused, everybody turns to look at him. He squirms under the sudden attention but continues nonetheless, "I kept complaining to Josh about Neal's aura. I also kept pressurizing Josh to know more things about Neal that'll explain his aura. Josh, as is expected with regard to your partner, grew defensive. He started to...dislike when people focused on Neal's aura. That's why he never talked about it."

I do not know if Aakir is being truthful on his part or he is just lying to save my ass but I know for sure that his reasoning is definitely one of the reasons why I never talk of Neal's aura.

"What is Neal?" Aakir asks when nobody says anything. I shoot him a glare for using 'what'.

Terry uncle sighs, "He is the...I never even thought I'll meet one in my lifetime." He mutters then sighs again, "Neal is a vaticinator."

"A what?" I ask, frowning at the unknown word.

"You mean like an oracle?" Aakir asks, grimacing. I look at him incredulously. Aakir shrugs under my gaze, "Vaticinator means someone who can see the future."

Now that makes me give him an 'are you kidding me?' look.

"No," Terry uncle says, "He is not an oracle." Uncle rolls his eyes, "And his abilities are much more than just simply seeing the future." Uncle suspires, "His kind face birth only once in hundred years or so."

"Okay, hold on." I say, not able to digest the information. "He is not human?"

"He is human." My father says quietly, "Only a very talented one." He rolls his neck, emanating popping sounds.

"Don't jest." Terry uncle smirks. He looks at me and notices my utter serious, frowning and scowling face. His smirk vanishes and he begins seriously, "Well in short, he is the leader occultist's oracle of sorts. An occultist's power is non-forbidden with her vaticinator by her side. They wait eons for the birth of one. Technically," Terry uncle continues cautiously, "Neal is the property of the occultist of Ethan's realm."

"B-but-" I splutter.

"He is waking up." Rufina aunt's voice stops me from uttering anything. The thought of my partner being a supernatural person drags to the back of my mind. Neal is awake. As one, we straighten up and we all traverse back towards the living room.

When we reach it, I see that Neal is in the awkward position between lying down and getting up. He is trying to lift himself up with the help of his left arm, hooking it against the back of the couch. He looks dizzy, his eyes unfocused. My mother is sitting right beside him, his right arm looped with hers as she helps him get his balance.

"I am Nina. Josh's mother." My mother is telling Neal, smiling at him. He looks back at her, disoriented, his eyes slightly droopy, "You're in our house. Don't worry, you're safe." Mother assures him further.

My father is the first to reach him. We all arrange ourselves, at slight distance away around the couch on which Neal is lying, all of us forming a pattern-less arrangement. My father sits on the coffee table in front of the couch where Neal is half lying now. Neal looks up at the intrusion. When he sees my father, his eyes widen. Slowly, he returns to his senses as he begins looking at his surrounding and everybody standing around him. He immediately makes move to hastily get up.

"You shouldn't move." My mother says, her worry emanating from her stance.

"I need to go." He mumbles, not looking at any of us.

"Son," my father says in his authoritative voice. "Please sit back comfortably. Nobody is going to harm you."

Neal looks dubious as he meets my father's eye. Rome lets out another nightmarish scream, filling the awkward silence. Neal winces. "What the hell is that?" He asks.

Father sighs, "First, we need to have a discussion."

"I want to leave." Neal says, his voice firm.

"You're not safe out there." My father says, "Trust me when I say that you'll be the safest here at the moment."

Neal hesitates. He looks around, his eyes landing on Aakir and I. I see his eyes flickering back and forth between my face and my arms. He is frowning furiously. I give or hope that I am giving a comforting look. He averts his eyes and looks at my father.

"I need to make a call." He demands.

Father sighs. There is a silent pause as my father appraises Neal, "Listen....Neal. We'll cut the awkwardness, alright? I am Nikolai, Josh's father." father begins in a polite tone. Despite the welcoming tone of my father, Neal doesn't let his guard down, watching my father with alertness. Well, my whole family has him surrounded and he probably knows that he can't escape if he even tries to play it dirty. Even if he doesn't know of our exceptional therian abilities, facing a number of humans alone is no piece of cake, no matter how good at fighting Neal maybe.

"I know," my father continues, "that you know what we are."

Neal frowns, looking confused.

"And I also believe that you know what you are." My father adds.

"What are you talking about?" Neal asks, looking confounded.

"You could see our transformations, Neal." Father stresses, "You can't see that if you don't know of the existence of our species."

Neal wears a look of recognition, his eyes following my father's arm and then back towards me.

"I saw...that." Neal relents, returning his gaze to my father, "But I don't know how you could do it...or what are you." He looks calm while he says that, though I can almost hear his accelerated heartbeat.

Father is silent as he looks on.

"But if you don't know," Terry uncle starts, "Then you shouldn't have been able to see it. It means you know of us, so you don't have to be dishonest."

"I am not lying." Neal snaps, looking severely offended at being accused. He shakes his head, "I need to make a call." He says.

"Maybe he can see it because..." Aakir trails off, clearing his throat.

"Because?" Neal stresses.

"No, his abilities have nothing to do with that." Father says quietly, answering Aakir's unspoken question.

"What abilities?" Neal says, his tone suddenly defensive.

"You know what abilities, Neal." My father answers back calmly. "I know of you, you don't have to be defensive and hide it."

Neal's face contorts with confusion, "I don't know what you're saying."

"It's upon you to let us in. I can't force you to trust us." Father says, sighing. I can make out that my father is displeased with Neal being conservative regarding his identity.

"Ugh," my mother suddenly interrupts, "This is giving me a headache. Can we discuss this peacefully?" she looks at all of us, then turns towards Neal, "I am sure you must be hungry, dear? Please feel welcomed. None of us is going to harm you."

"I need to make a call." Neal sticks to his mantra.

"To whom?" my father suddenly asks.

Neal hesitates, "I just need to call."

"Neal," father begins, sighing exasperatedly, "You know what you are. Let's not play ignorant at that, at least. And as my wife said, we are not going to harm you. We are on your side, alright? But we can't help you if you be in this defensive mode. That guy who just attacked you? He is going to be back with his army, literally an army, so that he can make use of your abilities which I am sure you are aware of. And trust me when I say that we want to help you against them."

Neal tortures his lower lip, taking in my father's words. He still looks guarded, but seems to be contemplating hard, "I need to call my aunt." He says quietly. His tone is far more compliant this time, making me quietly breathe out in relief. And also making me believe that Neal definitely knows about himself.

My father nods, "Alright. Is she a therian like us?"

"What?" Neal frowns, a seriously confused look on his face.

Father hesitates, "You...do not know about therians?"

Neal shakes his head no, looking weirdly at my father, frowning at the unfamiliar term.

Father is silent for a moment, then, "Has your aunt ever told you about humans turning into animals?"

Neal's mouth hangs open at that. He closes it after a moment, licking his lips, "No...but I have heard of some sort of stories when I was..." he lifts his hand, petting the empty air, indicating when he was small. He grimaces all of a sudden, "I need to call her."

"Neal," father says, "Does she know about you?"

Neal looks apprehensive as he measures up my father. He purses his lips, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Father suspires, "Until and unless you're not going to trust us, I can't help you. On the contrary, you can't just trust anyone when it comes to what you are, not even your long known aunt. I know that you can see the future," Neal's eyes widen at that, but my father continues, "So, please don't act as if you don't know about it-"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Neal snaps.

"-Furthermore, my whole family is at risk here." Father ignores Neal,"Not just for your sake but for my family's sake too I can't let you contact a wrong person-"

"My aunt is harmless." Neal interrupts, though I notice that he doesn't entirely sound confident over that.

Father tiredly rubs a hand over his face. "You're stubborn." He says. My lips twitch on their own accord as I resist the urge to suddenly smirk at my father's helpless stance in front of my adamant partner.

"Let him make the call." My mother says, getting up.

"Nina-" father objects.

"No." she cuts him off, "You've had your time. Clearly your method is not appeasing. Now leave him to me." my mother actually looks....sort of pissed off. Now that is new.

"Nina, we need to ask him-"

"You can carry on your interrogation later." My mother cuts off my father in a sharp voice again, "The boy has been through enough already, stop pestering him." Mother rarely uses this tone of voice, the one where you can't answer her back. But even more astonishing is my father's response who simply slumps back, not at all protesting.

My mother asks Neal if he can get up from his place. I can see that he has immediately taken a liking to my mother, as she has been defending him. He readily complies with her request. My mother leads Neal out of the living room, holding his elbow and dodging us. I follow them, leaving my father behind as he shares exasperated looks with Terry uncle. My mother enters the kitchen, Neal right at her heels and I right at his heels. Somehow the situation of Neal knowing about us doesn't seem significant anymore. Because he himself is hiding something far more important; at least in my father's opinion.

"Keep your hands away from me." he mutters while sitting down on the high stool. He is warily eyeing my arms.

I roll my eyes. "I am going to believe you when you say that you don't know about us. Because if you did then you would have probably known that we can convert whole of our body into an animal, not just our arms."

He looks at me as if he has suddenly seen an alien. I shrug at him. He gives me a bewildered look. "I seriously hope that I am having a nightmare."

I settle down next to him, "You're one to talk." I drawl, "You're not completely normal either from what I am making of this situation."

Neal grimaces, looking away. Before, however, he can say anything, my mother gets the kitchen phone towards us.

"Sweetheart," she begins, looking at Neal, "Are you having a headache? I can give you a pain-killer."

Neal shakes his head hastily, "No, no. It doesn't bother much."

"Okay, you can call." My mother says, thrusting the cordless phone in his direction, "Just don't say anything that may jeopardize your or our situation more. I think you're wise enough to know what to spill." My mom smiles indulgently at him.

Neal smiles back though his is a tight lipped smile. He hesitates, looking at the cordless phone, "Does this have international?"

Mother's smile falters, "Your aunt is not in the country?"

"Uh, no."

"Okay." There is a pause."Shouldn't you call your parents first?" mother asks, "They are bound to be more worried."

"Yeah," I agree, "They still weren't home when we left the place."

"Uh..." Neal starts awkwardly, "I live alone." He blurts.

Mother raises her eyebrows, "Your parents?"

"I, uh...I d-don't have parents." He stutters. Mother and I wear identical faces of shock at this. Before we can say anything, Neal carries on, "I need to call my aunt. She is not too far. She is just in Poland...I think."

"You think?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

Before tonight, Neal was just an arrogant kid with enough rich parents and who has a witty way with words. Now he is some sort of a suspicious fortune teller with no parents and a vague aunt whose whereabouts he isn't sure of. I am seriously starting to wonder if anything at all assumed by me about my partner is true.

"Okay," mother interrupts. She fishes with the pocket of her skirt and takes out her cellphone, "You can call from this." She hands over the mobile phone to Neal. "Do you...uh, know the number?"

"Yeah. My aunt makes sure I have her accessible numbers at all time." Neal answers, making me feel slightly reprieved with this revelation. At least he and his aunt are not totally ignorant of each other. "I remember the number by heart." He mumbles, taking the phone from my mother. He dials the number, but doesn't press the call button. He warily looks up. Both, mother and I are watching him like a hawk. I realize how awkward it must be for him. Watching a bunch of humans turning into monsters, forced into unconsciousness, getting up in an unknown house, being interrogated and now having people towering over him while he is making a call to his only family.

"Uh," he falters, "May I talk in private?" He asks in a low voice.

"Everybody will be able to hear you anywhere in this house." I tell him honestly.

He again wears a bewildered look but decides not to question it. He is about to press the call button when Rome lets out a blood curdling scream.

"Who is that?" Neal asks, grimacing and looking at my mother.

Mother sighs, "He is a family member. He is a mental therian...I believe he is acting this way because of..." she looks at me for confirmation.

"Because of?" Neal asks.

"Because of you." I tell him, nodding at mother.

Neal's face contorts with confusion some more but he just shakes his head, as if getting rid of the thought. He presses the call button. Anxiously, he starts drumming his fingers on the island as he awaits his aunt to pick on the other side. I can very faintly hear the ringing of the bell.

"Hello? Jen aunt?It's Neal here." Neal says as soon as the other line picks up.

The voice on the other side is very faint to me. I can only make out the words, 'Neal' and 'fine'. I suppose his aunt is probably recognizing him by voice and asking him if he is fine.

"No." Neal drawls, "Someone attacked the house."

I watch as Neal listens to a long string of words from his aunt. Neal frowns and abruptly gets up, moving towards the corner of the kitchen as if that can prevent us from eavesdropping on his conversation.

"You told me to inform you if I see anything out of the ordinary." He says quietly into the mouthpiece of the phone. A pause,then he continues again, "It was a man. He kept saying that I do not belong here and I belong to some shit realm. He also kept asking when my birth took place."

Another lengthy pause follows, this time with a certain alarm to the muffled voice on the other end.

"No..." Neal says, "I am okay. I am with a family at the moment...family of one of my school friend's....they are...they, uh, helped me." he sounds uncertain as he says it, "All these people...they could...the head of the family is saying the term 'therian'."

"Maybe I can make her understand better." My father says, suddenly entering the kitchen.

Neal turns around, eyeing my father dubiously. I hear the word 'harm' from the other end of the line to which Neal faintly says 'No'. Father extends his hand towards Neal. Neal sighs and very reluctantly gives the phone to my father.

"Hello? This is Nikolai Lichinsky this side." My father says on the phone. Neal stands right next to him, frowning at him.

"I am assuming you're one of us?" father asks on the phone. He nods, probably getting a positive answer, "I figured as much, since Neal seems aware of our existence-"

"I'm not." Neal says, indignant.

"Else he couldn't have been able to see our transformation." My father says, stressing on each word, giving a pointed look at Neal. Neal takes a step back at the piercing gaze. Father can be very scary if he wants to be.

"Oh, I see." Father says in response to the lady on the other line. "It's very unfortunate," father continues on the phone, "that I am getting to talk to you in such inauspicious circumstances, Jennifer. If you'll give me a moment, I'll explain the situation of your nephew." Father says.

"I am not her nephew." Neal mumbles, almost inaudibly. That has me frowning. What does he mean? They are not blood related?

"Now before I begin," father goes on, ignoring Neal, "I just want to make sure we are on the same page. Neal's aura more than suggests his identity. I am assuming you're aware of his disposition?"

Neal frowns furiously at that, looking more and more confused as the seconds are ticking by. But he keeps his mouth shut. By his confounded stance, I believe that Neal really doesn't know much about this whole thing. On the other hand, he definitely is aware of something about himself that he seems reluctant to share.

Father frowns as he listens on the phone, "I can assure you with all the honesty I can muster that I have only best interests in your nephew. He being the vaticinator is not going to make me look at him differently."

Neal and I, both, frown at that unfamiliar term again.

"But," Father continues, "other therians are going to be very interested in him and the event that occurred today has jeopardized your nephew's secrecy." There is a long pause. "Good." Father says in the phone, having probably received a positive answer from Jennifer, "A man, a therian, from the first realm accidently encountered Neal today. He is part of the head council of that realm, so it isn't a surprise that he immediately recognized Neal by his aura. Unfortunately, he took antagonistic measures to claim Neal. Thankfully we intervened at the correct time. But," father pauses, "From our calculations, we are assuming that that man will return within five days at the earliest."

There is a long, long pause as father listens to Jennifer on the other end.

"The first occultist and therefore the whole of first realm she rules is known for its arrogance." Father says, "I'll not be relying on their ability to procrastinate."

Another pause.

"Ah, pardon my guesses," father says, "but from what I know from the rumors, I am assuming you're one of the protectors?" a short pause, "I see." He sighs, "It's a great honor to talk to you."

Now that makes all of us frown.

"Well," father says in the mouthpiece but his eyes on me, "You're right. I have no reason to help him. But since you've asked, I'll let you know that he is my son's partner. I need no elaborate."

"Dad!" I snap at him, my voice filled with alarm. How could he say that so casually with Neal around? I look at Neal who is again frowning, this time at me. I feel my ears turning warm.Exasperated, I look away.

"Uh, yes, Jennifer." Father says, ignoring my abashed state, "That would actually be great...provided you bring no antagonism with you. I have actually decided upon some decisions and I would like to consider your opinion as well. And I am sure, as you've predicted, Neal would like to hear about himself from you." With another few words regarding the exchange of address, father hands over the phone to Neal. Neal listens to his aunt for a long while on the phone, his expressions changing from confoundedness to frustration to finally impassive.

"I don't understand this whole thing. How do you know what I can do?" he surreptitiously drops his voice level at that sentence. He should realize by now that we can hear him loud and clear, no matter how low he may whisper. "You never believed me when I told you about it when I was younger." Neal accuses his aunt on the phone, his voice low yet again. "Tomorrow?" he says, looking exasperated, "What about school tomorrow?" he blurts suddenly into the phone.

"You wouldn't be going." Father answers him.

Neal hears my father, gives him a fleeting glance and then turns back on the phone, listening to his aunt some more. With a disappointed 'bye' he disconnects.

After he disconnects, mother grins happily and purports dinner, happily bouncing away as if this day couldn't have been any better. Neal tries his best to be blate but my mother makes sure to ask his opinion and make him stay in the limelightas she prepares to start dinner. In awkward silence, everybody in the house, except for Gwen aunt, flood into the kitchen. My mother is the only one who is happily chattering away. Rest of us, we act ineptly, bashful almost, due to the discomfiture resulting from the circumstance. Rome's periodic screeching just adds to the inelegance of our situation.

"Neal," Father starts immediately when Rome's bout of screaming seizes for a moment, "If you wish to know about us, you need only ask. From what I could gather from your aunt, you're not well informed of us. Not even well informed about yourself but your aunt wishes to discuss that herself."

"I'll also prefer to talk to her." Neal says, almost defensively, eyeing my father with wariness. "And about you guys, I have been saying the same since I am here. That I don't know..." Neal mumbles. He appraises my father, "Don't expect me tell about myself in return." He blurts.

Father sighs, "You don't have to tell." He says, making Neal look reprieved, "I'll ask your aunt anyways when she comes tomorrow."

Neal stares at my father. "She doesn't know the details." He says quietly.

My father casually returns the stare. "You'll be surprised." He drawls.

Neal frowns and sighs in defeat, turning away anddeciding to not question on it. He has obviously realized that he is the least informed about everything amongst the ones in the kitchen at the moment. I have millions of questions of my own. The air is already thick with tension, besides I have no idea how much my elders want to divulge in front of Neal. So I keep my curiosity at bay in front of them at least.

"So," Neal grunts, "I am assuming you all can...change into animals?" he grimaces at the end.

"Not everyone, sweetheart." My mother says, smiling, "I cannot."

Neal frowns.

"We are the zoicvitalists." Father says, before anybody else can interrupt him again. "'Therians' is what by which we are commonly referred to as. Yes, we have the ability to metamorphose into an animal form. I can demonstrate if you want-"

"No, thanks." Neal winces.

I snicker inconspicuously.

"Your aunt is the same as us." Father continues, a slight smirk on his face. I can't help but feel that father is enjoying making Neal uncomfortable. Neal doesn't comment on his aunt being a therian but it's easy to make out that he was not aware of that.

"Are you the alpha?" Neal blurts, looking at my father.

Aakir bursts into suppressive snickers at that, making it difficult for me to suppress my own laughter. Rufina aunt is also smirking now.

"You watch a lot of movies, kid." Terry uncle says, smiling.

"Ugh, thanks." Neal mumbles and doesn't raise anymore query. The dinner is quiet, with only my mother and Rufina aunt trying to break the tension, their efforts getting destroyed by Rome's savage hounding in the attic. After an awkward dinner, my father gives a long ass lecture to Neal about his safety and whatnot; that he'll be the safest till he remains in the house and he'll be at his own risk if he tries to escape. Neal doesn't look like he is planning to escape, especially after his conversation with his aunt but my father doesn't cut slack at warning him.

Aakir and I lead Neal to the second floor, which is the same floor on which our rooms are. There is a certain edge of reformed discomfort between the three of us. It's not every day you realize that the usual teenagers you encounter in school are far from being normal. Rome's ferocious growls grow more perceptible since the attic is just above our floor. Aakir shows the guest room on this floor to Neal while I quickly get some of my clothes to lend to Neal for the night. My clothes will be slightly big on him but Neal isn't exactly someone who wears tight clothes anyway. Another scream fills our ears as we mumble incoherent goodnights.

"Wouldn't he shut up?" Neal mutters, moving to his room.

"Trust me, dude." Aakir says miserably, "I feel your pain."

I retire to my room too, closing the door so it'll block some of the noises Rome is making. As I change into my nightwear, my senses refocus on the aura of my partner only a few feet away. If anybody would have told me today in the morning that I'll be sharing my house with my partner tonight, I would have probably bet my father's library books against it. Just a few hours have seemed to change the course of my life entirely. Unlike my previous predisposition to not make a deal of my partner's inexplicable aura, I am suddenly irrepressibly interested to know about his uniqueness. Neal seems ignorant but at the same time highly informed of what is going on with him.

I recall what Terry uncle said about him. That Neal can see the future? That sounds totally bizarre. Not to mention, clichéd. But then we being therians don't exactly belong to the norms either. As I close my eyes, I try to recall if I have read about this oracle thing in any of the historical records my father has let me read. What was the word? Vatican or something? Isn't Vatican a city? With jumbled thoughts and numerous failed attempts at remembering, my eyes close on their own accord and my ears grow distant to the savage screams of Rome. But even in the fleeting moment of sub-consciousness, I pray to the triple goddess for a better day tomorrow.

  10. A Night To Remember

Tomorrow is not what I get to see when I open my eyes next; not in the literal sense at least. My sleep is broken half way through the night, quite a few hours before dawn. The first thing I notice are the howls emanating from the attic. Rome has not given up from torturing everyone in the house. I don't know if my family has managed to sleep with Rome screaming at the top of his lungs or their sleeps have been disrupted in the same way my sleep has broken. I shift around, looking at my bed side table that displays the clock. It is nearly two thirty AM in the morning. After a minute I realize that it's not Rome who has my eyes open. A faint knock resonates from my bedroom door, proving to be the source of my interrupted sleep. I don't know since how long the knocking has been going on. I shake the sleepiness away and concentrate, feeling surprised at sensing Neal's aura right outside my door. Hastily, I get up, accidently bumping against my night table. I curse, my eyes half closed due to sleepiness and walk on. I immediately trip on the duvet that decides to slide down, entangled in my legs. I barely manage to hold myself upright. With another round of lazy curses, I open the door of my room.

Neal is standing, his hands thrust in the pocket of the sweat pants that I have lent him, the cuffs of which are folded at his feet. He looks wide awake and slightly annoyed with his lips pursed.

"Hi." I say, barely managing to open my eyes.

"Wouldn't he shut up at all?" He says, his voice an odd combination of anger and helplessness, making it come out as an annoyed whimper.

"What?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

"This," he says, pointing a finger towards the ceiling. For effect, Rome growls loudly just above our heads, "He has been screaming and jumping incessantly above my room." Neal complains.

I suppress a yawn, "Sorry...We should maintain a guest room on the lower floors."

"No shit."

"We can't really do anything about it." I tell him, forcing my eyes open, "He usually calms down within a few hours."

"What if he escapes?" Neal blurts, slight panic in his voice. He winces and continues in a calmer voice, "I mean, he has been extra ferocious in the past half hour."

Now wait a second...is Neal....? Is he feeling scared?

"We keep him expertly locked." I supply, "He won't be able to escape. But," I say, "If you feel uncomfortable in your room then you can sleep in mine. The bed's big enough." I say, opening my door more and emphasizing on my bed which is invisible in the darkness.

Neal narrows his eyes suspiciously at me, "I am not standing here because I am frightened. I can sleep alone. But it's difficult to manage that with the noise." He clarifies.

I sigh. Neal has more pride than even Aakir.

"Frightened or not, you're welcome. And finding this," I point a finger upwards, "scary is not going to make you look like a wimp. There have been nights when I used to sleep between my parents because of this."

Neal rolls his eyes but doesn't comment on it. I open my door more and move inside. I walk to my bed and switch on the light; my room no longer in the darkness. "Plus," I say as I turn around, "If Rome escapes perchance then the two of us can fend him off easily in my opinion."

"That thing has a name?" Neal says, raising his eyebrows as he enters my room. His steps are cautious, his eyes darting around my room fervently as if he is looking for something even remotely dangerous.

"That 'thing' is a part of our family." I answer him, motioning for him to shut the door.

He complies, drowning Rome's noisiness slightly. He circumspectly eyes my bedroom floor as he walks inside, "Were you sleeping on the floor?" he asks in amusement.

I look downwards and see my duvet sprawled lazily on the floor. I sigh, "Your knocks surprised me enough to drag it with me." I say as I pick the duvet up and throw it on the bed.

"So..." Neal says, abruptly stopping near my book shelf near the right wall, "Your mom said he is a 'mental therian'...I am assuming it means he is mentally retarded or something." He nosily starts checking out my books which are mostly my course books. I am not an avid reader.

I sit back on my bed, resting my back against the head rest, "Well, technically, no."

Neal frowns, "Then?"

I sigh, dragging the duvet to cover me partially. My sleep has definitely disappeared for now, "Mental therians are...sort of a variety amongst the therians."

"You guys have varieties." He mutters, absentmindedly moving onto my study desk.

"Well, yes. Mainly three that I know of. They have resulted from the various evolutionary steps of our species."

There is a lengthy pause.

"...Are you...from a different planet or something?" He asks.

I roll my eyes. "Are you from a different planet? You're not exactly normal either." I drawl.

Neal snorts, "What do you know? I am perfectly normal." He says defensively.

"You know," I sigh, "If you're not going to tell us, doesn't mean that we wouldn't know. And," I carry on before he can interrupt, "As of now, my family seems more knowledgeable about you than your own self."

"I am normal." Neal stresses, "I just..." he trails off, dragging out the chair next to my study desk and sitting on it.

"Just what? Can just see the future?" I drawl.

Neal coldly glares at me, "I am still confused how you guys can guess that." He mumbles, then starts louder, "What I do can be quite pragmatically explained with the help of spiritualand modern science."

"So can be our existence."

Neal falters, taken aback by my declaration. "How so?" he asks.

"Well. How did humans evolve? By variations and mutations in the other primate species. We evolved by mutations amongst humans."

"...."

"Don't look at me like that. I am not an alien."

"You're saying that...humans have evolved into another...species...by random mutation. Mutations? I don't know why this isn't a significant news. Wouldn't this be publicized-"

"Neal," I interrupt him, "Our species didn't spontaneously evolve on its own. And we were shunned by the pure humans in the past."

"-Oh so, slow evolution. And ostracized or not, it still can't be ignored-"

"We were created." I say.

"-uh, what?"

"The mutations were induced in us. Those led to formation of those perfect genes on our chromosomes that are expressed as our characteristics." I explain.

"Genes to turn into an animal?" Neal grimaces as if choosing an 'animal' to shift into is totally preposterous.

"Either you can comment or I can speak my story." I snap.

Neal rolls his eyes, "Don't be bitchy...the day hasn't exactly been normal for me."

"You're clearly curious to know about therians, if I ignore your jibes. Why didn't you just ask my dad during dinner?" I pause, "On second thought, its good you didn't ask much details from him. He seemed exasperated by your stubbornness as it is. He wouldn't tolerate your snide remarks as well as I am tolerating at the moment." I smile at him in sarcasm.

"Isn't that just wonderful of you?" he smiles back with double the sarcasm. "So," he drawls, "You were telling me about who experimented on you guys."

"Uh...we were not experimented upon."

"Oh, whatever. You were saying who induced those mutations."

I grimace, "I was just telling you that they were induced, not by whom."

"Well, it'd lead to it, right?"

I sigh. "You know..." I begin, "therianthropy...mental therianthropy to be exact has been a character of numerous humans before the formation of our species."

"Therianthropy...? Is that where from the word 'therians' come from?"

"Yes. It's the..." I wave my right hand in the air absentmindedly, "thinking of yourself as an animal. Humans have originated from a species of an animal, so...some of us tended to be inclined towards those animalistic instincts as a human. Technically, humans are animals just with the bonus of civility and intelligence. Yet, some humans inclined more towards the primary animalistic instincts as they felt comfortable in it. That behavioral distinction brought forth the humans who tended to be more...animal like than human."

"And those developed the mutations?"

"Not by themselves, no." I say, "I can't be very specific as I am also speaking from the knowledge of historic books that I have read. Plus it's been quite a long time since I read those books. But from what I remember, such humans were in significant number in those times. I think the number grew to noticeable amounts in fifteenth century BC. The normal humans obviously regarded these 'animalistic' humans to be either insane or the form of a devil-"

"No shit."

"-...I didn't need that contribution." I tell Neal, abruptly breaking my speech. He has the decency to look abashed. "Those 'animalistic' humans..." I continue, "they were the mental therians. Who mentally thought of themselves as animals."

"That's not normal." Neal says, frowning, "People were not wrong in calling them insane."

"Neal, they were humans who were animalistic in certain nature but perfectly capable of being civil with other pure humans. They felt, what modern anthropologists now say, 'species dysphoria', meaning they weren't comfortable as a human; not comfortable in their own species. Therefore they tended to act like certain animals as who they felt most comfortable as. That didn't mean that they were unaware of themselves as humans. They knew they were humans.Theyjust knew that they felt more like themselves when they reined themselves to their animalistic instincts. But they were perfectly harmless to other humans. They were 'subtle' mental therians. Sure, there were certain therians who irrevocably thought of themselves as animals. Like Rome," I say, pointing my fingers upwards, "He is a pure mental therian with no human trait in himself despite looking very much human."

"That's disturbing." Neal mumbles.

"You'll be surprised to know how many such humans were there at that time. The pure humans weren't so open minded about it. Imagine trying to be what feels most natural and being ostracized by the pure human community for it. So, these 'subtle' mental therians who could think and act both as animals and civil humans formed communities throughout the world. The ones in America were known to be the instigators of the compilation of such communities worldwide. They started worshiping the Triple Goddess-"

"You've got to be kidding me." Neal says, slumping against the chair, "You almost had me with your story and now you just had to destroy it by incorporating some mumbo jumbo magic."

"It's not mumbo jumbo magic." I defend, "It's....well, a sort of practical magic."

"The basis of which can't be explained by modern science." Neal says, triumphant.

"There are infinite things that science can't explain. Like God. Now would you let me complete?"

Neal waves a hand, "Please. I am interested nonetheless."

"You have never heard of the Triple Goddess?"

"I have heard of Jesus alone." Neal smiles.

"Well, that's a start." I say, "You at least believe in God. The triple goddess is much older than Jesus. Have you heard of the Wicca witches?"

"Triple goddess...witches...the story is making me lose interest fast." Neal smirks.

"Just answer the question." I say dryly.

"Uh...I think I have heard the term somewhere."

"The thirteen witches who were exiled by the humans? Rings a bell?"

"No."

I sigh, "Alright. Uh, so, the Triple Goddess was...or is," I say offhandedly, "an omnipotent being just like other Gods."

"I am a monotheist." Neal supplies.

I sigh, "She is a goddess." I say. "I believe in her as much as I believe in Jesus."

Neal rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "Well, I am not going to comment on that."

"I'll continue my story regardless." I say,"She had a number of followers during the fifteenth century BC. The 'subtle' mental therians sought her to reprieve them of the stress they were facing. They worshipped her because they sought cure for their 'half animal, half human' state of mind. They prayed for a gift that may allow them to embrace their animalistic side without hassles. After infinite worshipping the goddess sent one of her acolytes. Until then, no one knew that the Wicca witches worshiped the Tripe Goddess."

"The acolyte was a witch." Neal says, grasping the facts.

"Yeah...the therians were not pleased. I mean, the therians were amongst those humans who had been part of the revolution that drove the witches away. But the cult of the thirteen managed to persuade the therians that they are indeed the servants of the Triple Goddess. The witches...they are demonstrated to be very wicked in the books. Their magic solely relies on their ability to extract and project energies from the bodies around them, animate or not."

"That's technical for a witch." Neal says sarcastically.

I smirk, "You should read one of the books in my father's library. The magic of the witches was purely scientific. But their 'scientific' abilities were enough specific to cause only a certain sort of mutations at certain positions in the chromosomes of our body. Their 'magic' was enough advanced to ensure no degeneration of the DNA occurred. Also, that the DNA retains the innate ability to regenerate, as is its sole purpose."

"I believe...your witches didn't require a laboratory?" Neal says, sarcastic.

"If they would have, they wouldn't be called 'witches', I suppose."

"Ah." Neal consents.

"But really, from what I had read, they had projected certain electromagnetic radiations upon us, of wavelengths beyond those of gamma radiations. They had the ability to generate that high energy waves and had the perfect accuracy and precision to cause damage on the requisite genes."

"And...viola! Here you are." Neal says, grinning.

"Here I am." I nod.

Neal chuckles, "You believe in this story?"

"Yes."

"...Okay."

"So, the correct mutations gave us the ability to metamorphose to any animal form as we required. The therians formed their own realms, the first being formed in America and then many migrating to other places in the world and initiating more Realms, getting encouragement from the witches...Now there are thirteen huge Realms, each looked after by each of the thirteen witches. There are millions of therains out there, being a part of this."

"...What? There are...there are more of you?"

"You look surprised." I say, wary of Neal's response.

"I thought it's only you people here." Neal blurts.

I roll my eyes, "There are thirteen therian realms in the world, each with uncountable therians. Each realm is under the supervision of each of the Occultists." I repeat.

"Occultists?"

"Eh...the witches. The term 'witches' associate too much negativity with it, considering how they were antagonized by humans in the past. So we use...'occultist'...which is a more appropriate term anyway, because the witches are the result of occultation and they sprout occults by their energy."

"That guy..." Neal says, frowning, "Your uncle?" he grimaces, "He said I belonged to the occultist."

"Oh yeah...first of all, Ethan is not my uncle. Secondly, dad said the same....that you belong to the First occultist."

Neal winces, "What does that mean?"

I shrug, "I don't know...Terry uncle said you're the First occultist's oracle or something."

Neal is silent at that.

I clear my throat, "So...You really can see the future?"

Neal rolls his eyes, "You're going to have to wait in queue outside my gypsy shop."

I chuckle, "No, but, really?"

Neal sighs, "It's...complicated."

I give him a condescending glare, "You don't have to be so shady." I shake my head, "In a way I am surprised. I never really believed in destiny much. But if you can see the future then that means a future is fixedand therefore, so is everyone's fate." I sigh.

"You're wrong." Neal blurts.

I raise my eyebrows. He sighs, pursing his lips. He eyes the empty side of my bed and again sighs, this time inaudibly. "May I?" he asks, pointing at the empty space beside me.

I shrug, "I don't mind if you can manage to sleep on the chair."

Neal rolls his eyes and traverses the outline of the bed to move to the other empty side of my bed, his idyllic aura vibrating with his movements. Very ungracefully, he just collapses on the bed, making the mattress bounce a little. A silence stretches, except for the thumping steps of Rome above our roof. He is not shouting at least, thank god. I glance at Neal to ensure that he is awake. He indeed is; sprawled inelegantly on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"The future..." Neal begins, clearing his throat, "is not fixed. Not all the time at least."

He falls silent again.

"I am listening." I encourage.

"Give me a moment." He snaps, "I am gathering my thoughts."

I sigh, exasperated.

Neal runs a hand through his hair, "It's tough to explain."

"I am still listening." I say monotonously.

Neal shoots me a sideway glare, then sighs, "I have...at certain times, managed to form the future." He says distantly.

"...What do you mean?"

Neal sighs in exasperation. He gets up from his lying position and sits cross legged beside me, facing me. "I have had experiences where I could..."

"...manage to form the future?" I complete for him, my tone dry.

Neal glares, "It's-"

"-Tough to explain, I know." I complete for him again, "You know what? You're a terrible teacher."

"Oh, please. Who wants to be a teacher?"

"We are diverting. You can form the future?"

"That's it."

"That's what?"

"That's it." Neal says, impatient, "When a certain course of direction is set, I can follow it and see what is going to occur. But it's not a necessity that it'll occur for sure. This is where your 'fate' theory gets disregarded. What I see is something that is most likely to occur. If I leave it be, that thing may or may not occur, depending upon the preceding circumstances."

"That's not very helpful." I say after a moment.

"Yeah. Not unless I can improvise upon what I see and will it to occur with 100% probability."

"...You can do that?"

"Well," Neal looks hesitative, "I have had my share of experiences."

So, that's what he means by 'managing to form the future'. I feel my heartbeat quicken. Able to develop or change the future? Now that sounds...somewhat significant. Slight details of my excursions with Neal start to roam in my mind. I straighten a little, pulling the duvet more upon myself, "Let me guess...Duato's suspension...that was improvised?"

He simply raises his eyebrow at the sudden change of subject. His mouth wordlessly opens, confirming my suspicions.

"I'll further guess," I continue, "That my presence two days before, when I helped you against Duato and his friends was improvised too?"

Neal remains stoic at the accusation but somehow I manage to sense the guilt off him. The fading bruise on his cheek doesn't seem so undeserving anymore.

"I can't believe this." I mutter, looking away from him.

"I didn't will you to be present to fight against Duato and his douchebag friends." Neal replies, "Yeah, I knew you would be there...I had seen that beforehand...but I didn't create it or molded the situation. I just willed it to occur with 100% probability; which is not a big deal as it was anyway the most probable thing to occur." He mumbles, awkwardly looking away. He then turns back and begins in a loud voice, "The events preceding Duato's suspension were improvised." Neal corrects, his voice now in a full on defensive mode, "Duato's suspension was left untouched by me."

"And that makes it any better, how?" I ask, slightly disturbed with Neal bending the future for his own benefit, "How many more improvisations have you made?" I snap. "Must be pretty handy this ability of yours for The Plutocracy."

Neal doesn't retaliate and the guilt becomes more noticeable on him. So I have guessed right. He has probably 'created' some of the news in The Plutocracy.

"Why are we talking about this?" He says, rubbing a hand on his face.

"I'm just having a hard time believing that you can be this unethical."

Neal looks away and breathes out heavily through his nose. He looks at me, his expression displaying slight annoyance, "Your judgment doesn't affect me, Lichinsky."

"That doesn't make you any better."

"Why are you making a scene of it? It's not like I did anything to you..." he trails off in the end, quickly looking away.

It eventually dawns on me, "You didn't?" I ask, bristling, "So, Victor and I fighting was not one of your improvisations?" I half hope that he'll reply with a 'yes'. But what I get is a blank stare in return. "Great," I say sarcastically, "how many more hassles have you made people face for your own amusement?" I ask.

"I am not discussing this." Neal says.

I shake my head, "I kind of respect you, you know. You've just disappointed me."

"Well, flash news. I don't care. You're not my dad."

Yeah, not your dad. Just your life partner.I scowl in my head but outwardly I remain silent.

I sigh.

"I never produce something that may pose harm to anyone." Neal says after a moment, his tone hesitative.

"Except for Duato?" I say dryly.

"The prick deserved it." Neal snaps.

I look at him, "Why don't you just admit it that it's wrong?"

"The lives of those students wouldn't be half as interesting without The Plutocracy." Neal says.

"And that's the lamest explanation I have ever heard."

"I am not explaining myself," Neal clarifies, "or giving excuses. I never look into the personal lives of other people. I just very minutely modify something that they were going to face anyways. I don't cause harm to any of them, unless you count the slight humiliation my paper causes to some people. Like in your and Viktor's case. But even in these situations, the victim is usually at the brink of receiving the treatment I bestow on him or her. As I said, I don't change the situation, I just slightly modify it. Viktor deserves it anyway."

"You're no one to decide who deserves what."

Neal rolls his eyes, "Just stop being judgmental, okay?" he snaps, "I like writing, I like observing people when they selfishly indulge in themselves with the help of my paper, I like knowing that my word holds some significance to the mass and therefore, I like The Plutocracy. If I can manage an easier way to fill the columns of my paper without harming anyone, without intruding into their personal lives, without affecting the major, significant events in their lives, then I'll grab it. And that's what I did. I am not sorry for it. You," he says, pointing at me, "are amongst the minority who doesn't enjoy the privileges I offer and oppose my 'unethical power' that I don't even use for the negative."

"Doesn't mean that you're right." I mutter.

Neal rolls his eyes, "Can we not be bitches and get over this?"

I mimic his rolling my eyes, "I still think you're wrong." I tell him. "And I think the occultist requires you to develop the future..."

Neal sighs, shrugging, "I don't know..." he hesitates, "But I'll definitely not like working for somebody else, even the mighty witch." He says sarcastically,"It's enough draining for me as it is."

I frown, "What, it drains you of your power or something?"

"No, you idiot." Neal snaps, "What am I? A power plant?"

"Well, you used the word 'draining'." I accuse.

"It's tiring of course. But equivalent to 'doing math homework' tiring."

"That's pretty tiring." I say, slipping lower in my bed.

He squints his eyes at me, "You don't like mathematics?" he looks as if I am the biggest freak on this planet.

"I don't even have that as a subject anymore, Neal." I say.

"You've got to be kidding me. Math is such a cool subject." He exclaims.

Nerdy mode on. Nerdy mode on. I can literally hear Aakir iteratively saying that in my mind.

"Well...if it's that cool....then how can doing math homework be tiring for you?"

"Exactly. It's not the unpleasant tiredness." Neal explains, "Just a little exhaustive, you know." He shrugs.

"I see."

"Yeah, so I always settle on doing the whole future thing only once a week. Generally I do it on Saturdays-"

"Hold on a second." I say.

"Hmm?"

"You can't spontaneously see the future?"

"...What do you mean by 'spontaneous'?" Neal asks, squinting at me again.

"Well..." I say, "Can't you tell me what's going to happen tomorrow?"

Neal hesitates, "I can...but I am going to need a few hours for that....I guess that means that I am not spontaneous...Plus I need to be calm before hand which may pose a problem as I am kind of twitchy as of now..." he trails off.

"You don't randomly get images or something of the future? Maybe nightmares as premonitions?"

Neal grimaces, "Where are we, in a movie? I was joking about the gypsy shop, you know."

"Well." I say, "How do you go about it then? What would you need a few hours for?"

"Meditation." He replies.

"...."

"That's what I meant when I said that I am normal." Neal says.

"Bending the future at your will is not nearly normal enough." I say.

Neal grimaces, "I was...actually not intending to tell you that. But since you told me about therians...I felt kind of owed..."

"Yeah, well. Pay your debt then. Go on."

Neal sighs, "As I said I need to meditate to visit the future. Many other people practice this too, the ones who practice soul travelling-"

"Astral travelling." I say, understanding what he means.

"-Yeah, you know about it." He says slowly, looking surprised. I give him a glare at his assumed inferior knowledge that I have according to him. "Hey," he says, "Many people are blank when I mention the word 'astral'. They usually end up relating it to stars."

I chuckle, "They are not half wrong."

"Or otherwise," Neal continues, "They just find it too bizarre an occurrence. They just don't believe it is possible to separate your consciousness from your body."

I simply shrug.

"Yeah," Neal says when I don't say anything,"So, now you know how I do it. I astral travel. To the future. The only added advantage I have is that I can somehow mold the futuristic events at my will."

"That's...actually sort of cool." I say.

"I know, right." Neal grins.

"But I don't understand why it isn't spontaneous? I mean, why do you need a few hours?"

Neal rolls his eyes, "Astral travelling is no kid's game. I need to meditate for long, long hours before I even feel getting separated from my body. Then I need to be accurate in what I want to see. Then again, I need to be accurate in mind about how I want the approaching situation to change, if I want it to change at all. It's as much exhaustive as thrilling as it sounds. And," Neal looks dubious as he continuous, "Somehow my ability to project my astral body has been diminishing as I am growing up. So, now it requires even longer time for my meditation to reach that stage where I can project. And as I said, I also need to be calm in mind to perform the task. There have been times when I have failed to manage this because of how excited or tensed I am."

"That's...hard work."

"No shit that I do it only once a week." Neal says, "It used to be easier when I was a kid. Sometimes I wouldn't need to concentrate at all and I'll start floating...I mean, I was pretty young to not realize that I was astral travelling. I had told my aunt a few times when I happened to 'see' something both in my astral form and later in reality. She'd always just brush it off, not heeding it much attention....And now suddenly I get a hint that she might be aware of my condition even before me."

An awkward silence follows as both of us stare in opposite directions. After a moment, I clear my throat, "I am pretty sure she thought it wise to keep you oblivious."

Neal quietly huffs but doesn't say anything.

"I am slightly surprised..." I start again, "because I never thought it takes you so long to...you know..."

"Astral travelling generally requires long hours of relaxed meditation." Neal says, frowning.

"Aakir doesn't require it." I blurt.

"What?"

I sigh, "Aakir...he is a spiritual therian. Another kind of variety amongst us. His astral form has the capability of turning into an animal. He can't flux physically."

"Flux?"

"Oh, that's a term we use for...our transformation."

"What, you guys heat up and then cool down or something?"

"Actually, we don't as such feel any sort of sensation. It's one of the benefits. We feel no pain upon transformation. Our skin, bones and muscles, they melt, mold and take adaption to whatever animal we are thinking about."

"I didn't need that mental image." Neal says, grimacing.

I chuckle. "The technical term for the whole process is known as 'fluxing'."

"I don't know why I even asked." He mutters, shivering briefly, involuntarily.

"Yeah, so," I go on, ignoring his discomfort,"Aakir projects his astral form whenever he wishes to transform into an animal. And his astral projection hardly takes seconds. I have seen him numerous times. He comes, relaxes and closes his eyes, falling asleep instantly. The next thing you know there's a giant wildebeest standing in front of you."

"You can see him in his astral form?" Neal asks, bewildered.

"Not as such. We can see him only if he fluxes into an animal. In fact we can even touch him in his animal form. Otherwise we can't see his astral body."

"That's weird..."

"I know. I don't know why we can't see his astral body otherwise."

"I meant that Aakir's ability to abruptly project is weird. And that you can touch it."

"Oh."

"So," Neal says, looking at me with curiosity, "What variety are you?"

"Physical therian." I tell him. "We form the majority. We can physically shift into an animal...as you've already seen."

"Yeah, I don't want another demonstration." He says quickly.

"It's actually pretty cool, you know. We are more adept, we can move with exceptional legerity, our senses are better-"

"Is that why you keep warning me that everyone can hear me?" Neal says.

"Well...We can hear perfectly clear at even twenty-thirty spaces. That's not a very bizarre feature but at the same time it is better than the features of an average human."

"What else? You guys can shape shift into an animal, you can hear better. You can see and smell better too? What about speed? Strength? You have strength, no wonder you fare so well in fights."

I smirk at him, "None of our characters are so far gone to label us as 'non-human'. Yes, we can hear better. Our speed is better too...but not exceptionally out of the blue. We can run as fast as thirty five to forty kilometers per hour."

"That's..." Neal trails off, looking at me weirdly.

"That's not too bizarre. The fastest human can run at around thirty kilometers per hour. The difference is not much."

"Okay...if you put it like that." Neal consents, "Only, the difference is that you may probably not look human..." he trails off again.

"Hold on." I say, "Are you assuming that I am narrating my characters as an animal?"

"Aren't you?"

"We are that fast in our human form, you idiot." I tell him.

"Oh."

"We don't usually prefer to flux into a whole animal. Save for Aakir, he prefers the whole thing. The rest of us just usually convert a part of ourselves. My father and I prefer to flux only our arms for better strength."

"I noticed." Neal says dryly. He sighs, "I thought..."

"What?"

He clears his throat, "For some reason, werewolves are running in my mind."

I laugh, "There are records of therians who can convert only into a particular animal. They are listed amongst the 'defective' therians. I mean, our species has been growing since a long time now. So the reproduction between therians sometimes ends up bringing unexpected results, like resulting into some mutation disorders. Hell, even the mental and spiritual therians are considered mutation disorders as they are disparagingly different from normal physical therians. Also, there are lycanthropes that can only shift into a wolf form. There are werecats who can only shift into a feline form. But these are not in significant proportion. Physical therians dominate in population."

"That sounds technical."

"I told you, our species can be expertly explained on scientific basis. Biologically, we have an inbuilt store of energy, literal quantum energy in each of our body cells. That is what allows the free deformation and reformation of our body when we flux. That also grants us with better strength, again not insanely deviating from the strength of an average human. Our strength is comparable to an average wrestler. A very strong human is as much capable of defeating us as any other therian is. And our sense of smell and sight are normal. Not that we rely on it much anyways."

Neal grimaces, "If your...'human form' is this much capable then why do you even need to physically turn into an animal?"

I sigh, "We feel...more at ease...more in our element when we are blended with our animalistic nature. Plus, we can flux into animals which are stronger than any human on this earth. We can adapt to certain characters too like fangs of a deadly snake or the night vision of an owl. Our body has enough capability to flux our body cells accordingly. It has its perks." I shrug.

Neal suspires, "Well...okay, it sounds cool, I admit. But your triple goddess and witch theory still doesn't sound practical."

I shrug, "Even your 'bending the future at my will' hypothesis doesn't sound practical."

Neal actually blushes at that, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He halts suddenly, looking up towards the ceiling, "He has stopped." He murmurs.

I notice that Rome has indeed gone absolutely quiet. No restless steps, no incessant growling. The house is eerily silent.

"Thank the lords." I breathe in relief.

"Your mom said....that he was screaming because of...?" Neal says dubiously.

I nod, "Yeah, he can sense your aura. All the mature therians can."

"Aura? I think your father used the same term..." Neal says, frowning, "What does it mean that you can 'sense' my aura? Like an intuition?"

I sigh, "No. We can literally sense your aura. Not just yoursbut everybody's aura."

"What do you mean?"

"An aura is.... It's like an energy field around your body. Your thoughts, the way your mind works, that is continuously emitting certain energy filled radiations. Those waves are exuded by your body and it can be felt by the therians. Therians...have...a certain mechanism in their body cells that allows them to absorb the aura of others."

"Absorb?"

"Yup. We can absorb the aura and hence, deduce the form of the thoughts and feelings that resulted into that aura of the person in the first place. In short, we can 'sense' it."

"...Now that's cool and weird all in one package." Neal says, smirking.

I grin, "Yes, it is. Except for the fact that the auras of all the therians coincide largely, making it absolutely impossible for us to secernate between the different auras."

"Ouch."

"The therians have a lot of quantum energy in their bodies, in their brains. So, their auras are usually filled with a lot of energy which upon absorption just makes us feel...'powerful'. 'Stronger'. That's why we say that the therians exude power in their auras. Their aura is so powerful that it overlaps the waves that generate due to their emotions. We can't sense the general emotional disposition of a therian. Mind you, the auras of different therians are not exactly identical. They are similar but not same. The mechanics by which we absorb and sense the auras is not that much sensitive to differentiate between the therian auras."

"And...you can do that in humans?" Neal guesses

I nod fleetingly, "Technically, yes...but there also it's pretty useless. Because humans are not very 'strong' when compared to the energy levels of the therians. And their emotional disposition is also usually...vague. Humans are very unpredictable, most of the times. The end result is that their auras are very...diluted. The waves in their auras are not high energy waves and thus, upon absorption by us, we can't significantly determine the feelings or thought process that results into it. We just sense very fleeting forms of the general emotions of a human. But it becomes cumbersome when there are too many humans around, like in our school. If there are fewer humans around then I can concentrate and sense their auras better. Like my mother. Her aura generally gives me a sense of happiness."

"Meaning that she is generally happy." Neal mumbles.

"Yup."

"How come she is a pure human?" Neal asks.

I shrug, "Mating between a therian and a pure human can result into either of them. It's the random fusion of gametes during reproduction, so...you can never be certain which genes have incorporated into the fetus. So the fact if it's a therian or a human remains as much a mystery before birth as the gender of the baby. Except for when you want to make use of the technology, of course. I am a product of a therian and a human. I have turned out to be a normal therian."

Neal sighs, "I thought..." he clears his throat, "I didn't expect a therian to mate with a human."

"I think, you mean that you didn't expect a human to mate with a therian." I sigh too, "There were humans in the past who accepted us for what we are. And even now there are humans who know of our existence and accept us as such."

Neal nods. "So....my aura is not...normal, I assume?" he asks after a moment.

I smirk, "Far from it."

"It's not like that of a human?" he asks, looking apprehensive.

I chuckle, "It's not like a therian's either in case you're worried."

Neal actually looks reprieved on hearing that, making me roll my eyes.

"Your aura is..." I begin, my mind getting crowded by all the positivity I feel on sensing his aura. I shake the thoughts away. Neal requires a general explanation of his aura. He doesn't need to hear how obsessively alluring his aura is to me. "Your aura is an odd combination of both a human's and a therian's."

Neal frowns, "And that means?"

I scratch the side of my neck, "Your aura is as much 'powerful' as that of a therian, sometimes even more so. At the same time, your aura exudes your emotional disposition in quite a diluvian amount. That's both a similarity and dissimilarity to a human's aura. Because the aura of a human does exude the emotional disposition but those are not significant enough to be noticed."

"So..."

"So, your aura is similar in expressing the emotional sensations but it is vastly prominent, making it hard to miss it. I don't have to concentrate at all to notice your aura. It's exceptionally noticeable. If we ignore the 'power' part of your aura then your aura is just an accentuated aura of a human. Too much prominent. It can't go by unnoticed. But I sense power too. Which is an odd combination really, because power and emotions don't usually mix as per theory."

"I don't know if I am supposed to take that as a good thing or not."

I chuckle, "Neither do I, to be honest."

"What do you sense?"

"I just told you."

"No, I mean...you said you can sense my emotional disposition..."

"Oh." I say, realizing what he means, "Uh, largely I sense apprehension...a positive kind of apprehension, as if you're always looking forward to something and you're pretty excited usually."

Neal doesn't say anything after that, not even to comment on his own aura. I don't start anything either, letting him revel in his thoughts. I am quite sure it must be too much for him to take in one night. I feel a yawn surfacing on me. Suppressing it, I turn sideways to look at the clock. 4.02 AM, it displays. I huff.

"We should sleep now." I say, making Neal snap out of his thoughts, "Rome has been silent."

Neal looks upwards once and sighs in relief, "Yeah, I should make the most of it." He grumbles, his eyes drooping as if they are just now realizing how sleepy they are. Clumsily, he repositions himself so that he is lying down on the bed. Absentmindedly, he stretches his arm and grabs my duvet. Like a selfish bastard he pulls the duvet on himself, leaving me bare. He closes his eyes and turns around, facing the other way from me. I hear him sigh contently.

I roll my eyes.

I get up and walk to my cupboard. I take out a bed sheet, grumbling under my breath. The bed sheet is not nearly as warm enough as my duvet but I force myself to manage with it. With a final sigh of my own, I switch off the light of my room and settle on my side of the bed.

"Josh?" I hear Neal mumble in the darkness after some time.

"Hmm?"

"What's Rome to you?" he mumbles sleepily. From how distant he sounds, he is still facing away from me.

"My uncle, sort of. He is Gwen aunt's brother."

"Gwen aunt? The other blonde one?"

"No, no. That's Rufina aunt. She is my mother's sister and Aakir's mom. Gwen aunt is Terry uncle's wife. She wasn't there today. She doesn't come out of her room much."

"Like her brother." Neal chuckles darkly. He sighs, "You've a big family." He whispers, his breath getting even as he succumbs to sleep.

And you have none. I resist from saying that out loud, letting ourselves peacefully fall into oblivion.

  11. The Taradiddles

I wake up from my blissful sleep only to feel another kind of bliss. The air is heavy with a pleasant vivacity, the sensations of which are incessantly overwhelming me on the positive end. I can essentially feel each of my muscles humming in compliance with the mollification my mind is under. It's placating, not to mention downright relaxing. Who wouldn't want to have such mornings every day? In such a relaxed and appeasing stance that even a simple thought of 'I am awake' can cause me such deluging peacefulness. As if I couldn't have been luckier than I am at right this moment to be capable of feeling the irrepressible vigor of the palpable waves that are drowning my senses.

My whole room seems to be saturated by the pleasant aura of my partner.

I take a deep breath, enjoying this. Gay or not, I am not ashamed to admit that I really, really fancy the aura of my partner. I open my eyes to find Neal sitting crossed legged right next to me. His hair is all over the place, his t-shirt, no, my t-shirtthat he is wearing is askew and his eyes are droopy, indicating he hasn't been up for a long time. Again, I do not care how gay that sounds but I could really get used to with waking up like this, even if I have to see a man's face beside me every morning. Neal is not that bad looking anyways. I resist the sudden urge to stretch my arm and touch him. A simple touch can make me feel ten times better than I am already feeling but I still don't want to explain this early in the morning regarding why I am touching him. Not to mention that that'll be just downright gay.I shift a little, getting more comfortable in my spot, and enjoying his aura cowering me in such concentration. My slight movement brings me to the notice of my partner. Neal turns his head towards me andsees me awake. He opens his mouth to say something and I prepare myself to feel his aura reverberate with his words-

"You snore."

...And just like that I am snapped out of my peaceful oblivion.

Trust Neal to ruin a moment.

I roll my eyes and robotically get up from the bed. "Good morning to you too." I grumble to Neal, making him chuckle slightly. I almost make it to my bathroom when my steps halt. I frown, turning around. Neal is still sitting on the bed, now looking towards my half open window, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He seems unaware of the commotion that has me frozen on spot. He soon senses my gaze and turns to look at me, raising his eyebrows at my frowning and frozen face, silently asking what's wrong.

"When did you say your aunt is coming?" I ask him.

Neal's eyebrows crawl up further at the question, "Ah, um, I didn't. But she said she'll be here as soon as she can." He pauses, frowning, "Is she...?" he trails.

I nod, quickly opening the door and darting inside the bathroom. I reach my sink hastily and turn on the tap, washing my face instantly as the water flows down. I grab the hand towel and rub my face dry, moving outside to my room in an equally hasty speed. Neal is sitting in the same posture, cross legged, his back straight, slightly leaning forward, a stupefied expression on his face accentuated by his raised eyebrows.

"I can sense more therians in the house." I say to him hastily, moving towards my bedroom door.

Neal immediately defreezes. He throws the duvet away from him, hastily getting up from the bed. "What time is it?" he asks.

My eyes briefly dart towards my clock, my eyes widening immediately, "It's freaking past noon?!" my voice comes out as an annoyed yell. In my defense, I have never slept in this late.

Neal rolls his eyes, "We basically slept in the morning, Lichinsky." He quickly starts wearing his loafers. "She's really here?"

I move out of the room, Neal right behind me. "I can sense extra therians." I tell him, "So, it must be her. Apparently," I turn around, still walking, "She seems to have brought company with her. Therian company."

My voice has a slight edge. Considering the kind of situation we are in, having unknown therians in the house is not at all welcomed. And I can sense almost three extra therians than yesterday in the house currently.

"Maybe it's David." He mumbles from behind me.

"Who?"

"David...he is...sort of my aunt's boyfriend. I don't know if he's a therian or not."

Of course. He didn't even know about his aunt, knowing about her boyfriend is next to impossible. I refrain from saying that I sense two therian auras apart from his aunt. I feel a therian aura ascending the staircase as we are hastily descending it. Almost halfway, I am greeted by the sight of a breathless Faith.

Faith?

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask her, as soon as we stop midway.

Faith glares, "It's good to see you too, brother." She smiles sarcastically. She looks past me at Neal, "Hey, Neal." She smiles widely, stepping past me and hugging the guy. Neal returns the hug gladly.

He laughs slightly, "Uh, Hey."

"It's so nice to see you again." Faith smiles wider.

"In considerably different circumstances." Neal says, smiling a tight lipped smile.

Faith chortles, "Your aunt is here." She tells Neal. "I was just coming to get you guys."

We nod and start following Faith as she descends ahead of us.

"Does he know?" I hear Faith whisper lowly as she descends in front of me. Too low for Neal to hear. I know she is asking if Neal knows he is my partner or not.

I sigh, "No." I say, equally quiet.

At the same time, "Is she a therian too?" I hear Neal mumble almost inaudibly right next to my ear.

"Yes, I am." Faith replies, turning around, "And I can hear you." She smirks.

I feel, than see, Neal's face getting warm as he turns away.

We reach the living room. Gwen aunt is sitting on one of the couches in the living room. I swallow my surprise at Gwen aunt's sight and focus on other people.Terry uncle is standing next to my father. My father is standing right in the middle saying something to the lady in front of him. But the lady is not looking at my father. Her eyes are trained at the entrance to the living room from where Neal and I are now entering. The lady is younger than my mother and Rufina aunt, yet she still must be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her attire is the most surprising as she casually looks on, a reprieved short smile on her face, adorned in a leather jacket and knee length, high heeled leather boots. Her jet black hair, falling in waves around her face just adds to her robust personality.

"David." Neal says enthusiastically, broadly smiling and traversing the length to a guy I didn't notice before.

"Hey, buddy." The guy, who seems to be middle aged, slightly tall and extremely pale with a balding head, and also a therian, immediately engulfs Neal in a bear hug. As opposed to the woman, this guy is wearing a plain t-shirt and faded jeans, making him look like an absolute geek in comparison. No wonder Neal is so enthusiastic at seeing him.

Letting go of the guy named David, Neal turns towards his aunt. The aunt simply smiles and caresses his cheek in gesture. Neal awkwardly smiles back.

Well. Isn't this a lovely family reunion?

"You're alright?" the woman asks Neal, more for confirmation I assume, considering the tense free smile on her face.

Neal simply nods, "Yeah...they helped me." He looks at my father who raises his eyebrows in an amused response. Neal has been sounding hesitative about us helping him since yesterday.

"I am very obliged that you took care of Neal." The aunt, whose name is Jennifer, as I learned yesterday, says to my father.

I feel therian auras behind me. I turn to see my mother and Rufina aunt, followed by Aakir and Rahul. I ephemerally greet Rahul as both the women of my house walk closer to our guests.

"Why are you guys here?" I whisper to Rahul. I know my whispering is futile as everyone can hear me but still, I can't wait to inquire about Faith and Rahul's sudden presence. It isn't the weekend for them to be here.

Rahul shrugs, "We were asked to come as soon as possible. Terry called yesterday and explained the situation as best as he could."

"...okay?"

"He explained the situation as best as he could so to make it look like a big deal, so to make sure that we come." Rahul improvises, making me smirk despite being dubious about how 'serious' exactly the elders are taking this situation.

"He has sort of become my responsibility as well, I believe." Father replies to Jennifer. My attention is grasped back by the people in front.

Before Jennifer can reply, Rufina aunt proposes to the guests to sit and make themselves comfortable on the couch.

"Actually," Jennifer says in response to my aunt's hospitality, "We'd rather not bother you much. I am infinitely thankful for your help and gestures, but," she looks at Neal, "I think it'll be okay if we take Neal with us now."

"What?" My father says, unprepared for the sudden change of events.

"We would like to leave." Jennifer states.

"Knowing the consequences..."

"That's my burden, Mr. Lichinsky." Jennifer interrupts, "I am thankful for what you did. But I would like to leave with my family now."

"Where do you intend to go?" Father asks instantly, as soon as she finishes.

"I am sorry, Mr. Lichinsky, but I don't think that'd be your concern." Jennifer replies. Her tone is polite but the message is clear. Despite our predisposition of being positively inclined towards Neal, Jennifer doesn't seem to trust us. Does she even remember why we are inclined towards Neal in the first place?

"It certainly would be." My father cuts Jennifer off, "You do realize that we are associated with Neal?"

Jennifer's eyes flicker around, probably wondering who the guy to declare Neal as his partner is. But she doesn't linger her eyes around for long, returning her sudden cold gaze to my father.

"And it isn't just because of what you're thinking." Father says, catching her glances around, "We have been found defending Neal. We are considered to be amongst the ones who were hiding him. We are in as much risk as Neal is at presently-"

"Not nearly." Jennifer interrupts, "I am very sure you're capable of keeping your family safe. So, please do that. And I'll be doing the same for my family." She says, looking at Neal and David, "I don't see why we have to cross paths at that. I am thankful that you saved Neal, but I am not comfortable with the idea of more therians around him."

"But enough comfortable to hide from Neal that you're a therian too." Father replies calmly. Jennifer opens her mouth to retort but words fail her. My father continuous, "Listen, Jennifer. I told you to bring no antagonism with you-"

"I haven't." she says calmly.

"-And where do you even intend to take him?" father glances at a stoic Neal, "Do you even know what awaits you out there?"

"I am optimistically going to avoid whatever awaits me, Mr. Lichinsky-"

"So, you'll hide." Father deadpans.

Jennifer huffs, "I have been doing that since the past seventeen years," she snaps, "and I have been doing that well. Don't tell me how to handle my responsibilities, Mr. Lichinsky."

"Yeah, but aren't you forgetting something?" Father retorts, looking placid but with the telltale signs of tensed muscles, "that the therians were unaware of the vaticinator's existence till now. Now a whole realm knows about Neal. How far will you hide? You think you can hide from them forever?"

"That is my concern. And this is not open for discussion." Jennifer replies.

Father sighs exasperatedly, "Why did you even bother entering our house? You're clearly not open minded enough to listen to our advice."

"As I said," Jennifer stares on sternly, "regardless of your opinion, I am highly gratified that you saved Neal. I owed a proper thank you."

"You aren't doing a very good job at thanking." Father replies coolly.

Jennifer sighs, "Mr. Lichinsky-"

"Oh my god..."

Everybody turns towards David who has suddenly interrupted the heated, yet calm argument. He is looking towards the opening of the vestibule that leads to the hallway. Exactly where Rahul and I are standing with Aakir standing in between, but slightly behind us. The three of us stiffen at the sudden scrutiny directed at us by this David guy. Assuming the source of his exclamation to be something else, I let my eyes dart around quickly, my senses on high alert to detect any possible danger. I turn around, seeing Aakir and an empty hallway behind me. But I find nothing even remotely dangerous. I turn back towards David who is still staring at us trio, Aakir, Rahul and I. He seems paralyzed with shock, his mouth agape, his eyes the size of saucers. I look at Jennifer, who surprisingly is wearing the same expression as David now and looking at us three as well. Confused, I look at Aakir and Rahul who are beginning to look as confused as me. Jennifer, almost in a trance, takes a few steps towards us. Rufina aunt, getting into defensive mode, steps in between. I don't blame her. Jennifer hasn't exactly been compliant since she has come. To everybody's surprise, Jennifer starts laughing. A tired laugh. I almost feel that she is losing her mind when tears begin to pool in her eyes but she happily looks on at Aakir, Rahul and I...

"I can't believe you're alive!" she exclaims, her eyes brimming but her lips stretched with happiness...

I start feeling awkward. I try to look at who she is exactly looking at and find her vision trained on Aakir. Aakir realizes as well that she is speaking to him. He nervously looks behind him to ensurethat no one is there. I and Rahul move away from Aakir as if he is a ticking time bomb. What great siblings we are, I think distractedly in sarcasm.

Aakir laughs nervously at being in the spotlightas Rahul and I have completely moved sideways. "I am sorry, what?" he says to Jennifer.

Jennifer smiles, "It's me." she says, as if that'll make Aakir remember. She shakes her head, "You probably won't remember me, you were so small." She takes more steps towards Aakir.

Rufina aunt blocks her way. "What are you saying?" she asks Jennifer.

That snaps Jennifer out of the little haven that she had slipped into. She abruptly looks at Rufina aunt with sternness, "How come he is in your house?"

I am taken aback by the accusing tone. So is everyone else, for that matter.

"He is my son." Rufina aunt says, daring Jennifer to contradict her.

Jennifer looks my aunt up and down as if sizing her. Then she laughs humorlessly, "You're not his mother." She snaps.

Aakir steps forward quickly, his defensive mode on. He places a hand on Rufina aunt's shoulder, standing directly behind her. He is looking the least bit pleased about Jennifer's reaction, "I'll prefer if you mind your words, Ma'am." He says to Jennifer, his tone polite but at the same time stern.

Jennifer waves her hands exasperatedly, "You're not her son." She says, sounding frustrated, her happiness long gone. "You're my sister's son!" she exclaims, "She bore you for nine months, not this woman." She waves absentmindedly at Rufina aunt.

What...?

You've got to be kidding me.

To say that everyone is surprised would be an understatement. I watch as one by one everybody's mouth goes agape. Just a moment before everyone was gushing over Neal's whereabouts and now we have this explosive flash news on our head. How the hell did this woman even recognize Aakir? Recognize him so well that she is blasting on us with such confidence? But then I think of Aakir's unique eyes, with red and black pools swimming in an eerie gray and I realize that it can't be very difficult for someone to recognize Aakir. Aakir's characteristic eyes have been very clearly defining and identifying him since his infant days. Aakir is not unaware of the fact that he is an adopted child. Everybody knows that Aakir was found in the woods by my father and Terry uncle. But this is too much of a coincidence. Through my shocked phase, I notice the minute things like how Jennifer's eye color is the same gray as Aakir's eye's base color. How they both have wavy brunette hair and well defined features. The similarities are there, alright. I wonder what Aakir's mother looks like.

Rufina aunt seems to be the first one who comes to her senses. She places her hand over Aakir's on her shoulder and eyes Jennifer levelly, "Your sister may have borne him for nine months but I have been raising him as my own since the last seventeen years, apparently when your sister left him to die in the woods at the hands of some savage animal."

Jennifer's gaiety tames down at that. She almost wears a look of understanding, followed by a pained look. "Those hadn't been the best of circumstances." She says, looking at Rufina aunt and Aakir. "It was never our intention to lose James. The circum-"

"His name is Aakir." Rufina aunt interrupts. But she doesn't look very stern now. Probably her female instinct is taking over. She gestures for Jennifer to go on, who grasps the new name for her nephew. I have to say, Aakir is definitely a better name than James.

Jennifer shakes her head, "Aakir." She tests the name, looking at Aakir. He still hasn't said anything over this, not quite over his shock I suppose. "It was a necessary step to hide...Aakir at that unconventional place. We hadn't expected to lose track of him..." she trails off, her eyes becoming rheumy again.

"I am really sorry, Jennifer," Rufina aunt says, "But I do not think that you took enough good measures to look for Aakir because we had left plenty of clues with the police department regarding a lost child."

"I don't expect this to lead to questions regarding who Aakir's family is." Terry uncle says suddenly, his voice distant but very stern as he unseeingly gazes at the wall, "And this situation makes me all the more doubtful regarding how do you plan to 'hide' Neal."

"I agree." My father adds on, not looking happy with the turn of events and expressing his disappointment clearly.

Two days in a row now I am witnessing my father's overflowing emotions. Years of his stoicism and now father seems to be radiating his vehement emotions in buckets. Specifically, his frustration and anger. If anything, it is my father's reaction that makes me feel that the whole situation is very serious at some point. Enough serious to extract some sort of reaction from my father. If not for father's inclination, Terry uncle's anger would have been enough to convince me how over the brim the situation is. Terry uncle is usually a jovial guy. It takes a lot to make him express irately.

Jennifer shakes her head, exasperated. "You do not know the whole situation; don't be judgmental about it-"

"I found," Terry uncle interrupts, looking infuriated, his voice unforgiving, "a barely one year old, lying on dirt, his cries echoing in the woods, Jennifer. Don't ask me to not be judgmental about it."

"He is my blood." Jennifer retorts back, "You're incredibly daft if you think you can form a judgment over what the circumstances made me do, and what I could have done!"

"Regardless, your failure is enough to assure me how successful you'll be with Neal." He says sardonically.

Jennifer looks at my uncle as if he is insane, "You're absolutely ignorant of what occurred seventeen years ago! You have no right to form an opinion on the basis of the vague assumptions you've made!"

"My nephew is not standing here because of you. He is standing here because of me." Terry uncle says, pointing at Aakir and stressing on the word, 'nephew'.

"He is not your nephew." Jennifer ripostes, glaring at my uncle.

"-He bloody is. He is nothing to you. He has been nothing to you since the day he could have been dead, thanks to your 'helplessness' in your 'dire circumstances'. I think I have enough right to form an opinion, Jennifer."

"Then go on," Jennifer challenges, "look at me as condescendingly as you can. But you will never be able to guess how desperate I was at that time. Neither can you imagine the torture I went through at realizing that I have failed my only sister as I accepted James disappearance or when I prevented myself from searching for him, as was dangerous during the circumstances. You know nothing about what I have been through. I don't care how incessantly I'll be criticized about this, but Neal," she looks at Neal, "has always been and still is a higher responsibility for me than my own blood family. You don't know a thing about the lives of the protectors. So, keep your prejudice with yourself, I don't need to hear about it."

"I don't know how that makes you right." Father says, stoically staring at Jennifer. Terry uncle is still hatefully looking at Jennifer.

"It makes me wise, if not right."

"Success is what matters, not contrivance." Terry uncle snaps back.

"Enough!" my mother suddenly interrupts. Everybody turns towards her, "Just because you all are half animals doesn't mean you people have to act likewise." She says in her stern voice. She looks empathetically at Jennifer and my uncle, "Jennifer, Terry, please, the situation has become preposterous as it is, let's not make this more awkward." She looks at Jennifer alone then,"None of us are going to force you to do something that you do not approve of, I assure you that. Arguing is not going to achieve anything. We should talk with civility...as I can see a lot needs to be discussed."

Jennifer looks at Aakir, who has spoken not one word till now. Her expressions are enough to tell me that she is considering my mother's advice only and only because she has found her long dead nephew.

My mother, as usual working as the middle man, is taken positively by Jennifer. But again, I believe, Aakir's presence has more to do with it. Jennifer sighs, wiping the betrayed trails of her tears drying on her cheeks.

"I agree with the lady." David says quietly, breaking the odd silence. He is nodding at my mother, "We all should calmly talk about this."

What does he mean by 'this' is something that I am lost at now. Talk about what? What Neal is? How Neal is to be 'protected'? Who will take Neal? Or who will take Aakir? And what made them leave Aakir in the woods? My mind hovers all over the place. The fact that I have woken only some time before doesn't make me the brightest bulb in the living room either.

My mother smiles, her happy mode on, "I'll show you the restroom, so you guys can freshen up? We can talk afterwards. I assure you again that nobody in this house will force you to do something you do not wish to do. Also, nobody will harm you either."

Jennifer nods compliantly, though she seems least worried about getting harmed by any of us. My mother asks Jennifer and David to follow her. Jennifer looks at Neal once who is stoically eyeing the floor, standing right next to her. She runs her hand through his hair once but fails at eliciting a response from Neal. Sighing, she looks at David. They both nod to each other and comply with my mother, awkwardly shuffling between us as they make way to follow my mother. As soon as they are out of the living room, a heavy silence endows, thick with weaving tension. Everybody is staring at some thing or the other but nobody is meeting anybody's eye. Terry uncle has started muttering under his breath, cursing at the sudden development, his words flowing too fast for anybody to grasp. My father, as stoic as ever, yet still not looking pleased, places a hand on his best friend's shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

I sigh, getting tired of the surprising and awkward situations. I look at Aakir who is still looking relatively pale with an equally pale Rufina aunt standing in front of him. More than anybody, it must be the most shocking for them to suddenly encounter Aakir's long lost blood family. I watch as Rufina aunt turns around and cradles Aakir's face. She places a chaste kiss on his forehead and departs hastily, probably going towards the kitchen. Aakir is left flabbergasted and ever more pallid at the sudden affection. I clear my throat, making his eerie eyes snap upwards towards me.

"Are you okay?" I ask, making everyone in the living room look at Aakir.

Aakir opens his mouth but no words come out. He fleetingly shakes his head and looks at Neal. Neal is still looking at the floor, his face expressionless. A moment passes and my thoughts center on my partner. I can't begin to enlist how he must be feeling. From Jennifer's words, it has become a little obvious that taking care of Neal has been a sort of obligation their whole lives. It suddenly dawns at me that it's Neal who must be the most shocked, not Aakir. I can't imagine what he must be thinking. Neal doesn't have a family of his own to begin with. The only family he supposedly has, has been revealed to be supernatural beings. Furthermore, the said family seems to have Neal as a 'job' of theirs since they are 'protectors', whatever the hell that means.And suddenly, Neal doesn't seem to be the center of attention either as everyone is now eyeing Aakir with concern.

"Dude," I hear Aakir say, stressing on the word. He is looking at Neal. Neal raises his head, followed by the raise of his eyebrows as he sees that Aakir is addressing him. He silently prods Aakir to go on. Aakir shuffles on his feet, still looking very much pale but looking anxious by the thought in his mind. He opens his mouth and begins, "If I weren't left in the woods that young," Aakir continues, "we would have been brothers."

And I don't know why I am surprised that out of all the things capable of keeping Aakir's mind busy at the moment, this is the only particular thought revolving in his head.

  12. The Vaticinator

"Okay," Aakir says, "let me get this straight."

Everybody and I literally mean everybody in the house looks at him as he suddenly gets up and starts pacing the length of our huge kitchen.

"You're saying," he says, looking at Jennifer, "that you left me inside the groove of a tree, fearing that the therians following us will kill me. And you didn't look for me because they were keeping tabs on you?"

"Those therians were specifically looking for you." Jennifer says, seated at the head of the island and looking at Aakir, "I couldn't leave you out in the broad daylight at someone's doorstep, while those therians were lurking around. I had instilled enough repellant in you to keep therians from stumbling upon you. It did take me five days to return-"

"Five days." Terry uncle deadpans.

"Those therians were keeping track of usand we already had Neal to hide. I couldn't reveal the identity of my family to those therians by blindly leading my entourage in search of Aakir!"

"Tell me, Jennifer," Terry uncle begins, "How many members of your family are alive now?"

"Terry." Father warns.

"You're going to mock me for my dead family?" Jennifer challenges.

Rufina aunt snaps her head at her, "We are not mocking you for your dead family, Jennifer." She snaps, "We are mocking you for ignorantly assuming that Aakir's dead without even putting much effort to look for him. We hadn't exactly been discreet during reporting the police department about Aakir and formally adopting him."

Jennifer scoffs, "What part of 'therians keeping tabs on us' you don't understand? My family was literally handicapped for three months straight. Obviously James's-I mean, Aakir's mother couldn't take it. She wanted to look for Aakir. The moment we started taking noticeable steps to look for him, my family died, Rufina. Aakir's mother died. They died because even our unobtrusive measures like simply asking a fellow citizen about an infant weren't gone by unnoticed. And though David and I managed to wipe out the clan that was hunting us, we couldn't risk ourselves more in fear of more therians like them. I have been through hell to keep David and Neal alive in that year, Rufina, and all the following years, for that matter. Ignorantly looking for Aakir could have led to our deaths and that includes Aakir's too," her eyes start brimming with unshed tears, "I think my decision to remain alive and keep whatever was left of my family alive was a wise one."

David, sitting right next to Jennifer, rubs her arm to provide comfort as silence lingers. Jennifer wipes her eyes with a tissue, smears of her kohl slightly spreading around the edges, "Besides," she goes on, preventing herself from breaking down, "I had left James...Aakir, at the border. So, I anyways had two towns to scout for him. I am not ashamed to admit that I couldn't even scout a single of those towns. You can criticize me all you want but I feel proud that Neal and David are healthy and sitting by my side."

All of my family finds something interesting to look at apart from Jennifer. It's obvious they do not approve of Jennifer's actions but somehow I sympathize with her. I really can't imagine going through what she is describing. And she doesn't even look that old. She must be a teenager when all of this must have been conspiring, probably younger than me.

My father clears his throat, "I am sorry, Jennifer." He says, breaking the odd silence, "I will not say I understand what you went through because I probably don't, but believe me when I say that you have my sympathies."

"About time." David murmured, sighing, "Mr. Lichinsky,"

"Call me Nik."

"Nik, thank you." David looks at everyone around, "I don't know what you all are thinking but I'll be really happy if you could show a little empathy. We were mere kids, not even mature therians," he says looking at a stoic Jennifer, "We did what we thought was best according to the circumstances."

"Well, it didn't exactly end up happy." Terry uncle says, sighing, but his tone is not rude anymore, "And so, I am not at all comfortable with you 'hiding' Neal. I mean," he looks at my father, "the idea is even more preposterous than your idea, Nik."

My father tiredly smirks, placing a hand on Terry uncle's shoulder. He turns back at Jennifer, "If you don't mind me asking, can you tell me a bit more about the therians who were hunting you at that time?"

"Yeah, I am dying to know too." I blurt out on reflex.

Everybody turns to look at the corner where I am leaning against the kitchen slab. But thankfully nobody gives me the funny eye as they all revert back to their conversational flow.

Jennifer sighs, "It started with Aakir's birth, of course. His birth...was a sign of the vaticinator's birth."

"Um, what?" Aakir asks.

"So," father says, ignoring Aakir, "You're saying that Aakir is..." he trails off.

"Shouldn't that be understandable?"

"What should be understandable?" Aakir asks again.

Father sighs, "These theories are not in writing, in any of the books." He says, looking at Jennifer.

"Of course." Jennifer replies, "The witches would become beautiful the day they allow keeping records of their own ruthlessness and unfair treatment."

Father smirks, "I have only heard flying rumors about the vaticinator and the protector. Beg my pardon, if I sound foolish in interrogating."

"Would someone answer me?" Aakir huffs.

My father turns towards Aakir, "You're the main protector. I mean, it's obvious now," he waves a hand at Jennifer, "that you're part of the protector's family but you also happen to be the protector."

Aakir grimaces, "Protector of what?"

"The vaticinator." Jennifer supplies, glancing at Neal who has been motionlessly sitting beside her. At him being addressed, he astonishingly looks up towards everyone.

"Uh," Neal blurts, spluttering, "C-could you guys, maybe, I don't know, start from the beginning?"

"Yes, please." Aakir says.

Father looks around his family, most of who are hanging onto every word being spoken. He looks at Jennifer, "You must explain, as I am sure you're more knowledgeable about the history."

Jennifer nods, "Neal needs to know about it, anyways." She looks at him, "As I never told him anything."

"No shit." Neal mumbles under his breath, looking away.

"I never wanted you to know about these things in such circumstances, Neal." Jennifer says, obviously hearing Neal, "In fact, I didn't want you to know about it your whole life."

Neal doesn't reply to that, choosing to find something interesting on the nearest wall.

Jennifer sighs, quite lucidly noticing Neal's negative disposition towards the events. But she begins, nonetheless, "Did you tell him about the creation of our race?" she asks my father. The latter looks at me instantly.

"I know the therian history." Neal blurts, before my father and I can say anything. He glances at me, before ephemerally glancing at his aunt, "Josh told me last night." he goes back to staring at the wall.

"Alright," Jennifer starts, seemingly undisturbed by Neal's conservative behavior, "The witches...the occultists, as they have come to be known as, created our race. They are very powerful beings but they have some major drawbacks. Like their inability to reverse their own 'magic'."

"Or their inability to modify it or procreate something identical." Father adds on.

"Absolutely," Jennifer nods, "The occultists can't undo their own actions and neither can they repeat it. If they have created a totally different race, that race will continue to evolve as such. That race is the result of the witches' occultation and therefore, no other energy source, not even the witches', will bring any effect on that race. We are one such race. The occultists can't bring changes in us or turn us into pure humans again. Similarly, a vaticinator is also an occultist's product. And neither us, nor the vaticinator can be created again."

Father nods, "I know this much that the first vaticinator was inculcated after a century and half a decade of our existence."

"A human was converted into a vaticiner?" I ask.

"It's vaticinator." Father corrects me, "And no, a human wasn't converted." He looks at Neal.

Neal raises his eyebrows in surprise, "My ancestral lineage comes from therians?" he blurts out, looking panicky, apparently not at all happy with that piece of news.

Father nods, "The occultist, it was the First I believe, projected her source of power at a pregnant pure human female who had mated with a therian."

"The progeny had turned up to be a human, of course," Jennifer adds, "A vaticinator is always a human. With the powers to formulate the future. His ancestral lineage is, yes, the therians on one end. But the main aim of the energy outburst had been at a pure human female at that time," Jennifer corrects my father, sighing, "Her son had resulted into a vaticinator. However, when the vaticinator further mated, its progeny didn't hold the powers of the vaticinator."

Neal frowns, "Then how the hell am I here?"

"You see," Jennifer continues, "Initially the plan was to turn that pregnant lady into the vaticinator. The First Occultist had incorporated such large amounts of energy into that pregnant female, that the pregnant lady couldn't accommodate it. As a result, most of the energy that had transpired ended up being concentrated in the growing tissues in her bodyand that was the fetus that was growing inside her. As the fetus was growing, the amount of energy kept multiplying exponentially, finally reaching the amount that made him exhibit the qualities of the vaticinator at birth. When a vaticinator further mates, only a part of that energy is transferred into the new fetus. Now it's all upon the fetus to multiply that energy to build up a store enough powerful to grant the vaticinator's abilities. Unfortunately, the subsequent children in the vaticinator's family failed to develop the requisite amount of energy stores. But," Jennifer pauses for effect, making sure everybody has her attention, "the evolution of the vaticinator lineage occurred in such a way that every time the energy transferred from a parent to the progeny was larger than what that parent received from its parents."

"So...finally came a kid who had the sufficient amounts of energy to possess the abilities of the vaticinator." Neal concludes, grasping the facts.

"Yes." Jennifer nods, "And it has been usually found that a vaticinator is a product of a pure human female and a therian father. And this whole process of transferring energy from one generation to another till the right amount was obtained usually took two centuries."

"Centuries?" Neal exclaims.

"Yes," Jennifer replies calmly, "Usually, the next vaticinator comes about after ten generations of the previous vaticinator. So, that calculates to about two hundred years. That is the lifetime of the vaticinator and the next hundred years after his death. So, the next vaticinator takes birth after a century of the death of the previous vaticinator. It can be more or less depending on the situation."

"What situation?" I ask.

"Well," Jennifer starts, appraising me, "For starters, the carrier for that sort of energy should be a therian male. And he should mate with a pure human female. There are many probabilities that can come into play with those requisitions."

"But," I glance at my mother, "For example, my mom is a pure human but her parents are therians. So, she can be a carrier of that energy too, right? A pure female child of therian parents can carry the energy according to me." I state.

Jennifer thinks about it, "Most probably, yeah. But in the past a vaticinator has resulted from a therian male with the energy carrier and a pure female who is not of the therian lineage."

I nod, settling back.

"Where do I come here?" Aakir asks.

"Ah, yes." Jennifer straightens up. "You see, the First Occultist realized that the vaticinator can provide his services for only eighty to ninety years, that is the whole human life of the vaticinator and that it'll be followed by a dormant phase of a century, maybe even more. Upon such realization, the occultist selected the rarer of rarest and stronger of the strongest amongst our species as a 'bodyguard' for the vaticinator, so to ensure a long lasting life for the vaticinator. During those times, only two, maybe three spiritual therians were present amongst us. Spiritual therians, even now, are the rarest amongst us. Their strength and fighting abilities are usually better than an average therian."

"Tell me about it." I mutter under my breath, earning a stolid glance from Aakir.

"One such Spiritual therian was appointed as the vaticinator's protector. I mean, a vaticinator can be quite a vulnerable entity considering how he can be used for his abilities by malicious beings around. And the occultist wanted no harm to her vaticinator. The protector's sole responsibility was to ensure the vaticinator's health so the latter lives a long life and to protect the vaticinator from any impending danger. The spiritual therian could also travel by his soul, as I am sure you all must know. The vaticinator's and the spiritual therian's bonding of energy in their astral forms created a sort of...connection." Jennifer frowns, pausing, probably looking for the best words to describe this, "You see, the connection they formed...it was intangible as opposed to other forms of energies endowed by the occultists. Such...invisible form of energy, flowing through a connection between the vaticinator and the protector, somewhere...bound them for life. The amount of that energy was no big deal for the vaticinator but for the protector..."

"It caused bleeding in the eyes." Father says, probably a guess. He turns to look at Aakir. Aakir's weird eyes are currently brimming with apprehension, the pools of red and black in his gray, standing out vividly against his sudden pale skin.

"Actually," Jennifer continues, "It was the brain where the bleeding occurred, thankfully nowhere significantand the only visible sign were the clots that formed in the eye."

"Those are not clots." David and Aakir say at the same time.

"'Bleeding' is a very misconstrued word for that. It basically caused enough damage to cause alteration in the particularities responsible for the external eyes. The 'clots' you say are actually the pigments that resulted due to the 'internal bleeding'." David finishes.

Jennifer nods, rolling her eyes, "The end story is that this eye characteristic was passed on as a trait. The unique eyes of the protector in a child have been marking the birth of the vaticinator for years. When the birth of the protector occurs, it is understood that the vaticinator will follow soon. Thankfully though," Jennifer looks on with relief, "these unique eyes of the protector are not public news amongst us therians. Only the protector's family knows about it."

"That's actually a very good thing." Father nods, "the person who attacked Neal...that man had been living in our home since a week. He would have probably flipped out much earlier had he known the reason behind Aakir's eyes."

I watch as Aakir considerably pales at that, "It's a good thing we didn't divulge my spiritual nature either." He mutters.

"Wait a second," I say, halting the side conversation, "The protector also takes birth every two hundred years?" I ask Jennifer.

"Yes."

"Why is that so?"

"Because the energy contained in a protector can't be handled by him alone. He needs a vaticinator by his side as much as the vaticinator needs him. You see, it's through their invisible bond the protector is able to sustain the energy that he has to endure in order to protect the vaticinator. The existence of the vaticinator has become essential for the survival of the protector. Many believe this to be some sort of an orthodox convention; that a protector's only purpose is to keep the vaticinator safe. If there is no vaticinator, there is no need for the protector and hence the protector ceases to exist as well. But that's bullshit, of course," Jennifer rolls her eyes, her vocabulary not considerate enough, "protector's existence does rely on the existence of the vaticinator. But that is to ensure the balance of energy in the world. If no vaticinator exists in the world then the protector would fail at maintaining the amount of energy he contains alone."

From the corner of my eyes, I notice Neal and Aakir exchanging funny glances.

"That's the history behind the vaticinator and the protector." Jennifer says, making Aakir and Neal snap out of their comical stare.

"But that's not all." My father says.

Jennifer sighs.

"Yeah," Neal says, "Shouldn't we," he looks at Aakir, "be with the occultists. It seems like a job." He ends, sarcasm more than clear on his face.

"The witches, The First witch to be exact do not treat the vaticinator with fairness, Neal." My father tells him, "There is a reason we are worried about you."

"What do you mean?" Neal asks.

"Okay, I do not know the facts, so correct me if I am wrong," father says, looking at Jennifer. She nods at him to go on. I feel she is tired after speaking for so long. "So," father begins, "As your aunt here said, a vaticinator has a life of eighty to ninety years, not unusual for a human. But that is followed by a slightly longer phase of a century where the occultists do not have a vaticinator by their side. On learning that, the first witch...she sort of forced the vaticinator to be at her disposal at all the times. To keep evolving and divining the future as she wishes him to. The records are not in any of the books but the rumors say that the vaticinator was hardly allowed to have a life. He was allowed to mate only onceso the family of the vaticinator continuesand at other times he was forced to keep working on the future, divining it as the occultist demands. The protector," father looks at Aakir, "was given new orders and those were to ensure that the vaticinator is doing his job right."

"Um," Neal interrupts, glancing at the floor. He takes a moment and then looks up again, "What do you mean he was forced to work at 'other times'? It doesn't take an hour or two to travel to the future."

"Exactly." Father says, "Imagine working for days on a continuous basis, against your will."

"And to develop a future that will not be beneficial for the common folks all the times and may even be devastative for them." Jennifer adds.

"The occultist did that?" I ask, befuddled. The occultists are, no doubt, our rulers from what I have read. But I never read any situation where they may have acted to cause harm to the humans and the therians.

"Of course, she did." Jennifer says, "As I said, she made sure shedoesn't do anything drastic so to be regarded with suspicion. Witches possess a very wicked ingenuity. In fact, if it wasn't for the expanding family of the protector, some people may not even know of the vaticinator. But once people got to know about the vaticinator and its protector, they regarded the first witch with even more awe, making people in other Realms, who learned of the vaticinator, feel jealous. The other witches of the other Realms showed their support and respect to the First Occultist and her vaticinator, knowing too well that with the vaticinator, the First occultist is now somewhat superior to them. I believe they were jealous of the first witch just like the people in their realms but there is no proof of course. Superficially, they only disclosed their support to the First Occultist. Sometimes, the first witch did make the vaticinator do wonders for the common folk, even of other realms, which earned her the trust of the citizens through the world. But behind the curtains, only the vaticinator and the protector knew that the first witch was up to no good."

"What was she making the vaticinator do?" I ask.

Jennifer shrugs, "Only the vaticinator would know that. I can just tell you that it was usually things that were meant for the benefit of the First witchalone. It may have posed some negativity for the common people and even the other Occultists, but we are not sure. From what I know, the vaticinator, the ninth vaticinator; that will be in... our 1200s AD; was the only one who protested against the brutal way in which the first witch treated him. It was him who publicized that the vaticinator is not being used for any good, that he is not even being fairly treated and that the witch is moving onwards to a bigger doom for our world."

"What does that mean?" Aakir, I and Neal ask at the same time. The three of us look at each other's frowning faces then turn back towards Jennifer.

Jennifer shrugs again, "I do not know if he actually meant anything by that or he was simply speaking metaphorically. All I know is that the people were cautioned. The families of the vaticinator and the protector grew wary and suspicious. The advancing modernism made both the families doubt the traditional ways of the witches. Not long after, the ninth vaticinator'mysteriously' died of a stroke well before his seventieth birthday."

"Hold on a second," Neal says, "why were the vaticinators even working on the witch's bidding? I mean-"

"I knew you were going to ask that." Jennifer interrupts, "The witches," she tells him, "may not be able to modify or reverse what we are. But that doesn't mean they can't control us to make use of our abilities as per their needs. The first witch was stronger and possessed her own ways to keep the vaticinator at her disposal and make him do things as she wishes. That involves making you meditate for days and not even allowing you to have a life of your own."

"That sucks." Neal exclaims.

"No shit." I add, frowning.

"Now you know why we are worried." Father says to Neal.

Neal gives him a droll look.

"The tenth vaticinator and his protector, in the 1400s," Jennifer continues, ignoring us, "were warned well in their childhoods. Mind you, the bond the vaticinator and the protector shared surpassed the magical compulsion that the witch had endowed on them. That means that they both were much more loyal to each other than they were to the witches. It didn't take long for them to realize too that they are simply being used. That resulted in them successfully running away from the grasp of the first witch. Naturally, as is job of the protector, he protected the vaticinator through their lives, seeing as how vaticinator is a human at the end of the day and requires a shield against these supernatural cults."

"They escaped just like that?" Aakir asks, squinting at Jennifer.

"Well, they intelligently played it out, I think. Again, we don't know the exact facts. But I think it should have been easy to fool the First Occultist after earning her trust. Besides, the vaticinator and the protector could anyways talk and plan in their soul forms while astral travelling."

"And since then," father says, "the First Occultist has been looking for the vaticinator. She has been hunting for the ancestors of the protector family and the vaticinator family lineage, so to have the vaticinator back in her grasp."

"She hasn't exactly been hunting. I mean, yes, she has her senses open to any of the hints, but most believe that the vaticinator lineage has ended. But the vaticinator family and protector family has been succeeding in hiding since the last six centuries. You're the third vaticinator since 1400, Neal.After 1400s, two vaticinators had taken birth, in 1600s and 1800s respectively. In both those centuries, both the vaticinator and the protector that took birth had spent their lives in peace, away from this unnatural life, away from the Occultists. In blissful ignorance. And I wanted the same for you, Neal." Jennifer says.

"It's different now." Father says, "Never in the last six centurieshas a whole realm been aware of the existence of the vaticinator. As you said, most believed the vaticinator lineage to be dead. I don't know how efficient your 'hiding' excursion would be in this scenario, Jennifer. The First Realm, despite hearing the rumors about how a vaticinator is treated, they still blindly follow the First Occultist. I am assuming they all believe that their occultist requires the vaticinator for the greater good." Father discreetly rolls his eyes in the end. "So, naturally they'll start hunting for Neal upon the orders of the First Occultist. It doesn't help that the First Realm has the maximum therians and is the largest in the world. Moreover, it wouldn't take long for the First Occultist to convince the other occultists, making other realms come in search of Neal too."

"Don't I feel all better." Neal mutters, looking stupefied.

"Dad?" I say, making father look at me, "Why does the occultist need the therians to look for Neal? I mean...they are witches, for Christ's sake. She can just sense Neal and get hold of him, can't she?"

"Good God, Lichinsky." Neal groans, glaring at me, "Why don't you throw me in front of her yourself?" he snaps.

"Hey, I am just asking, alright?" I say, taking a defensive posture, "Aren't you yourself curious how the occultist can't just look for you, considering her superior 'powers'?

Neal scoffs loudly, "No, I am not interested in knowing."

I sigh.

"That was," father says, once Neal and I are done, "a very good question, Josh. Yes, the occultist can sense all of us therians and our locations, like on a radar. But the vaticinator," he looks at Neal, "has a special aura. It is not detectable by the Occultist. In fact, the energy radiating off him somewhat repels any supernatural being who tries to find him on the basis of the energy disposition we all have. So, no, the occultist can't detect Neal's location, neither anybody else can detect it. The occultist will have to do it in the conventional style; that is by sending men on foot to look for him. The vaticinator may only be encountered either accidently or by pure human effort."

"And right now," Jennifer says, "Since Neal is amongst us, the occultist can't detect any of us either. The circumference of Neal's aura is enough to cover our own auras from the occultist."

"He is probably the only one in this world who can't be detected by the Occultist." Father says further.

"He is one of the two things, actually." Jennifer says. "The other is the holy scimitar which was weaved by the clothes of a witch. A person possessing that also can't be detected by an occultist."

"Hmm." Father nods, averting his eyes to the floor.

A silence commences after that.

"But," I break the silence, making everyone look at me, "Ethan can simply go and tell the location of Neal to the First occultist....then the occultist can simply come here, no?"

I avert my eyes from Neal who has begun to glower at me. I instead look at my father who is shaking his head.

"The witches are pure non-humans. Pure supernatural beings. Even if they'll come here, Neal's aura will simply repel them because of their clear intent of finding him. It'll make them change their course. No supernatural being on the basis of their supernatural poweralone can find Neal, not with a clear intent in their minds. If witches want Neal then Neal will have to be brought to them." Father sighs, "But that doesn't make it any easier." He turns back to Jennifer. "Human technology has advanced infinitely. Ethan, the man who attacked Neal, has seen Neal's face and he knows Neal's name. He also happens to know the faces and names of all of my family members. Even if we decide to run away, I don't think it will be so hard for him to look for us with pure human effort. Moreover, for how long will you run, Jennifer? Even if you change Neal's name to something else and create a new whole identity for him, then also you can't change Neal's face, can you? How long will you keep him shut in? That's equivalent to what the First Occultist was doing to the vaticinators. I mean, making Neal hide in a room is no different than making him unable to live his own life."

Jennifer shakes her head, looking unseeingly in an undetermined direction.

"They're right, Jen." David says quietly, looking at Jennifer sideways.

Jennifer rubs her hands over her face, groaning softly in her hands. She looks up, frowning and looking pained. "I don't know, Nikolai." She says.

"Jennifer," Terry uncle says, "hiding is definitely not an option. You were hiding when you left Aakir in those woods. Look at what that brought."

Father nods, "I am assuming that the therian cult that was after you had somehow got to know of your 'protector' identity?"

Jennifer nods, looking tired and much older than she was looking when I first saw her, "I don't even know to which realm those therians belonged to. All I know is that they started keeping tracks of the vaticinator family and my family. When Aakir's birth occurred, we instantly knew that Neal's mother who was pregnant at that time most probably carries the next vaticinator. Those therians...they were unnaturally interested in Aakir after his birth...you know, wanting to see him etcetera, asking a million questions. And though we know that nobody knows of the eyes of the protector's...we still didn't want to risk bringing Aakir to their notice. Our shady behavior," Jennifer sighs, "tipped them off even more. When we were running away with those therians at our tail...that was in fact the day of Neal's birth." She looks at Neal, smiling fondly, "It was all the more reason for us to run away, in fear of any of them sensing Neal's aura. The rest is history."

Neal is stoically taking all of this in, staring at the floor. He has been awfully expressionless since Jennifer's arrival. I clear my throat, again making everyone look at me.

"What happened to his parents?" I ask.

Of course I speak of Neal's parents. Before anybody else can say anything, it's Neal who opens his mouth,

"Probably killed, from what I am assuming." He says bluntly. Jennifer closes her eyes at his bluntness, but Neal goes on, unaffected, "I was told I am adopted as an orphan but I don't think that's the case." He ends with sarcasm.

"Would you have rather if I'd told you how your parents faced your demise?" Jennifer asks softly.

"Yes." Neal snaps, getting up. "Had I known about myself and been more cautious, I don't think we would even be in this situation."

He walks away from where his aunt is seated, turning towards them again when he is halfway towards the exit of the kitchen door, "I need to go home." He declares.

"I don't think that is such a good idea." Father says.

"I think," Neal stresses, "that I need my own clothes."

Father suspires.

"I'll accompany you." Jennifer says, looking at Neal.

Terry uncle scoffs, "I don't think that is such a good idea."

Jennifer rolls her eyes, "David will be here. And now Aakir is here too. I'll be stupid if I take Neal away on my own."

I see Neal rolling his eyes as everybody else decides who'll accompany him. Neal is not at all the type who likes to be treated as an incapable. And after learning about himself, he seems even more furious to have not been knowledgeable about it. I can only imagine how pissed off he may be.

"You have left Aakir in the past, your own family behind, to protect Neal." Terry uncle says to Jennifer, "I think it'll be better if you remain here. Aakir and Josh can go with Neal."

Jenifer huffs but decides not to comment on the accusation. She instead trains her eyes at me, looking at me in an incredulous fashion.

"So, this is your son?" she asks my father but her eyes are on me, "Neal's partner?"

Neal frowns, looking at me. My whole face burns red as I awkwardly look away. What the hell is she doing?

"Yes." Father sighs.

"Partner for what?" Neal asks, looking at his aunt then my father and then finally at me.

Jennifer raises her eyebrows in surprise, "You didn't tell him?" she asks me.

Neal's frown deepens more as my face burns more red.

"Tell me what?" he demands. Suddenly he scoffs loudly, shaking his head in exasperation, "There is more that I don't know of?"

I open my mouth but words fail me. What do I even say? Hey, Neal, sorry to not inform you earlier but we are kind of life partners. Hope you're fine with it. Yeah, right. I can see that going down well.

"Are you sure he's your partner?" Jennifer asks me, breaking the tense silence in which I was doing nothing but standing like a moron, contemplating what to say. "Because the way I see it," Jennifer continues, "It's very unlikely for a vaticinator to have a male partner."

"Would anybody care to enlighten me?" Neal snaps, his hands on his hips as he continues to glare at the floor.

I clear my throat. That attracts Neal's attention. He looks at me, frowning, silently demanding that I tell him.

"Come on, Lichinsky." Neal rolls his eyes, "We are partners in what?"

"I suppose we'll have plenty of time for the discussion." My mother comes to my rescue.

"I think," Jennifer says, looking at me, "that Neal should be informed of it."

I raise my eyebrows at her, "You're one to talk after keeping him oblivious for years."

"Josh." Father says, sternly, not happy with my snappy tone. But really, can you blame me? How dare she put forth such a lame reason? She's the last person to be pitching in for Neal to know everything. I look at Neal who is staring at me stoically. As our eyes meet, he raises his eyebrows in silent question. I dare to look around the kitchen once. My siblings are watching me apprehensively, looking slightly worried. The elders however are looking at ease, as if it is the weather I am being asked about.

"Uh...I'll tell you on way to your home?" my suggestion comes out as a question.

Neal appraises me for a moment and then sighs. I guess I look pleading enough for him to nod minutely at me. I breathe out in relief.

"Alright," father says, "You and Aakir can accompany Neal to his house. Be careful and alert."

"Ergg," Aakir stutters, "I think I'll stay back." He says, awkwardly stepping from one foot to another.

Aakir wins a glare from me and a frown from Neal. I know what he is doing. Since I am planning to 'talk' to Neal, Aakir is opting to stay out. But hell knows I probably require him to be there. He may even be able to explain the situation better than me. After all, Aakir is the one who was the calmest at learning the gender of my partner. Plus, I may not want to talk about this in front of a full-fledged audience but amongst one or two close people, it can actuallybe helpful for the situation. And I know that I am going to feel incredibly awkward if I alone talk to Neal about this.

"Two people must accompany Neal, Aakir." Father says.

"Yeah," Faith speaks after an eon, "And Josh probably wouldn't want me to accompany."

"No shit." I say instantly. Faith will end up insinuating romance between partners. Her presence is definitely a no-no. I look at Aakir, "Dude, you're his protector." I say, waving at Neal, "how can you say you don't want to accompany us for his safety?"

Faith, Rufina aunt and my mother chuckle slightly at that. Aakir glares back at me. Neal looks at us exasperatedly. Aakir rolls his eyes and starts walking. Neal goes ahead of him and quickly moves outside, without glancing back at anyone. He looks annoyed to zenith and I am really not looking forward to inform him of partners. As Aakir and I trail behind, Aakir turns slightly towards me.

"Funny, how a few days back you didn't want me to bother Neal." He drawls in a low tone.

I sigh. Yes, I remember how annoyed I used to become whenever Aakir would yap on about Neal. And now I am practically dragging him to help me explain our 'partner' theory to my partner.

"Things change, Aakir. Things change a lot."

  13. The Awkward Me

The overwhelming tension in the air has me feeling queasy. I am thankful that Aakir has allowed me to drive otherwise I may have been fidgeting incessantly. Even now with the steering wheel in my hand, I find myself squirming slightly once in a while. Aakir is sitting in the front, beside me. Neal, who sat in the back seat, has been suspiciously silent. He has spoken not one word since we left the house and now we are almost about to reach Neal's house. He has been stoically looking outside the window, his stance more than suggesting that he is not in a good mood. Aakir is almost as impassive as Neal but manages to look a littleanxious, almost. I am quite sure that they have forgotten about the 'partner' discussion and are in turn worrying about their newly learned...statuses. It almost seems surreal how much different these two days have made the situation. Just two days back I was looking for excuses to hang around Neal. Now the said person is sitting right behind me for all the unwanted reasons. But I think the most shocking is to learn of Aakir. It's bizarre to realize that the guy I have spent my whole life with, the guy who knows almost everything about me and about whom I know everything, that guy has been suddenly recognized as some long lost savior.

But knowing Aakir, I am sure he isn't taking it as a very big deal. It's Aakir we are talking about, who was most placid at knowing of my partner. I believe it will take a lot more to mentally shake Aakir than just learning the reason behind his weird eyes. For all I know he may be feeling almost giddy to be someone of importance. Not to mention, his fascination with Neal's aura has been explained largely, for which he must be quite content.

I hear Neal sigh heavily at the back, probably a signal that he is about to speak. But he doesn't say anything.

"This all is actually kind of cool." Aakir blurts when Neal says nothing.

Neal scoffs quietly, "Yeah, right."

Aakir frowns as he turns back to look at Neal, "Seriously?" he says to Neal, "Aren't you the least bit excited to know that you're somewhat important?"

I watch in the rearview mirror as Neal gives a perplexed and a confounded look to Aakir. "Are you kidding me?" he says quietly.

Aakir sighs, "You don't feel...I don't know, man. I feel kind of surprised. On a good end, you know? I mean I was just a vague kid two days back. And now," he grins,"I am a bodyguard of a fortune teller."

"Yeah," Neal says, "I may have been surprised had I not known what I can do." He sighs.

"Yeah, I am surprised that you knew." Aakir says quietly.

Neal shrugs. He then frowns at Aakir, "You're awfully fine after meeting your aunt." He points out, drawling the word 'aunt'.

Aakir shrugs, "I don't see why she should be affecting me." he says in a careful tone, "She is practically a stranger, irrespective of what relationship we share."

Neal appraises Aakir for a moment, his mouth agape then he nods slowly. He says nothing and simply turns away to look outside the window, reclining back into his previous stance. Aakir and I exchange stolid glances. The next ten minutes are spent in awkward silence, with me driving. As I turn into the dirt road that leads to the beach house in the far distance, Neal decides to break the silence.

"So," he starts, turning to look at Aakir and I. Aakir shifts slightly so to be diagonally inclined in his seat while I look at Neal through the rearview mirror. Neal makes sure he catches my eye in the mirror and then, "We are partners for what?"

I remain silent for a minute, choosing to keep my eyes on the dirt road in the front. When I look in the rearview mirror again, I am greeted by Neal's demandingly inquisitive face, his eyebrows crawling for his hairline. He looks suspicious.

"It's complicated." I blurt.

"Oh, surprise me, Lichinsky." Neal mutters. He then starts in a louder voice, "I think I have learned of enough complicated things to not be taken aback by whatever revelation you have up your sleeve." He rolls his eyes by the end. "And just so you know," he adds in a hardened voice, "I would very much like to be aware of the whole situation than be kept in the dark."

"It's not that a significant detail." I mumble. Neal being a vaticinator is too much of big deal in comparison to the futile news that he is my partner.

"I'll beg to differ." Neal says dryly, "Since, now that I think of it, it has become quite blatant to me that I being your partner in whatever the hell of a job we have to do is partly the reason why your father is being so protective." He snorts slightly.

I sigh. Yes, he is quick to grasp that. Father is worried about this whole situation because firstly, Neal is my partner and secondly, we have been caught red handed in supposedly 'hiding' Neal.

Aakir clears his throat, "We are here." He says in an annoyingly loud voice, not at all being subtle at distracting us. Neal's bungalow, the beach house, comes into view. In the daylight it is looking beautiful. The modernistic white house contrasting against the blue ocean behind it.

"I have got to say, your house is sexy." Aakir compliments, glancing at Neal once.

Neal sighs, "It's your aunt's house, not mine. Thanks anyway." He says and opens up his door as soon as I park right in front of the driveway...or a sort of driveway, since I don't see a clearly defined boundary. Aakir and I exchange glances again, not missing how Neal referred to Jennifer as Aakir's aunt.

Neal is already speaking as Aakir and I get off the car, "And let's not get off topic," he says, walking to stand in front of the car, "Tell me first, we are partners for what purpose?"

I glance at Aakir as I, too, walk to the front of the car.

"I am going to go, get inside." Aakir blurts, pointing his thumb in the direction of the house.

"Aakir." I snap. I don't want to be alone while explaining it to Neal. So I gift Aakir with a heated glare as he tries to escape the situation.

"Guys," Neal snap, sounding irked, "Could you just cut it out?" he glares at me and then Aakir, "Just hit me with it."

I run a hand through my hair, exchanging another glance with Aakir and finally turning towards Neal. He is looking at me, glaring almost, his nose slightly flaring. If it weren't for my anxiousness, I would have probably found his face funny.

"Look," I start, "it's kind of a therian thing."

"I figured that out."

"Partners are..." I begin, ignoring Neal's sarcastic jibe, "They are..."I trail off.

Neal frowns, "Are? What do you mean- partners 'are'?" he shakes his head, "Partners in what?" he asks.

Yeah, right. He is probably thinking of the typical dictionary definition of 'partner' and wondering for what job we have to work in duality.

"'Partner' is a technical term amongst us therians." I tell him.

A look of realization dawns on Neal's face. He looks at Aakir once then averts his eyes back to me. He simply adorns an impassive expression. Neal doesn't respond to the information, silently urging me to go on. I look at Aakir once too, who is standing expressionlessly, observing our exchange. I turn back to Neal, clearing my throat.

"Um," I begin anew, "Most of the therians have partners. They recognize their partners by his or her aura." Neal's frown deepens and I hastily continue, "Your partner is the one with whom you're most compatible. Your mind's usually in congenial sync with your partner's brain. It's just simply someone with whom you're sure to get along, someone with whom you'll always stay in harmony, irrespective of the differences..." my babbling trails off.

Both Neal and Aakir are standing shut tight up in silence, both eyeing me with eyes as big as saucers. The only difference is that Neal has his lips tightly pursed while Aakir is gaping at me. Aakir reforms his features as soon as he notices my anxious stare. He clears his throat, probably to add something-

"Wait." Neal interrupts. "'Partner' is a term for someone you....get along with?"

I sigh, "Technically, yeah."

Neal looks at Aakir once, "So, you both are partners too?" he drawls.

"No." I frown, as Aakir chuckles. I give him a sideway glare before going on, "A therian only has one partner. A therian recognizes his or her partner by the aura of their partner." I feel like a broken CD, being iterative,"That's one person who will be the most compatible with you and will always be around due to the harmonious congeniality he or she shares with the partner."

Neal says nothing, simply staring at me.

"Having a partner assures that you'll never face desolation." I elaborate further, "Because, theoretically speaking, it is believed that partners will never leave each other and will always be favorably inclined towards each other."

Neal is still staring.

"Having your partner around gives you a nice sense of goodwill, mainly due to the aura and how perfectly it weaves with the aura of their partner. It just gives you a feeling that...'hey, I am never going to be absolutely alone in the world, not just in the physical sense, but also in the mind'. It's a simple concept, really." I finish, nervously looking at a still apathetic Neal.

After an eon he opens his mouth and I prepare myself to hear the verdict-

"I am not gay." He says, still eyeing me stoically.

Aakir, the bastard, starts smirking.

"Neither am I." I snap back.

Neal raises his eyebrows, as if challenging me.

I roll my eyes, exhaling exasperatedly, "This...this 'partner' thing is not supposed to be romantic." I snap.

Neal twitches his eyebrows up and down, "Yeah?" his voice comes out mocking. He turns away, nonchalantly making way to the front door of his house in a slow pace, "It suspiciously sounds like 'soul-mates'."

"The hell?" I exclaim, exasperated. "You watch too many movies." I snap. "There is no such thing as 'soul-mate' in this world. Each person comes with their own full soul."

"I am still not gay." Neal replies dryly, continuing to climb the few stairs to his front porch.

Bristling and shooting a smirking Aakir an evil glance, I follow Neal.

"Your sexuality makes no difference to the fact that you're my partner." I say to him in the same snappy tone. "And, again, this...'thing' doesn't mean we are bound for life or we are supposed to be romantically inclined. Conceptually, partners aren't meant to be romantic halves of one another."

Neal sighs, turning back as we reach his opulent living room. He eyes me with a little frustration for a second then retorts back, "Are both your parents partners?"

Now that has me shut up for a few longer seconds than I would have liked. Neal smirks humorlessly at my hesitative stance. He shifts his eyes behind me, where I can sense Aakir's aura.

"You and Silvia are partners?" he asks Aakir.

I do not turn to see Aakir's reaction but the silence assures me that Aakir's facial expressions must have spoken volumes.

Neal looks back at me, frowning mockingly, "And you said we are partners?" he asks me, in sarcasm of course.

I laugh humorlessly, "I am beginning to doubt that." I mumble loud enough, not at all pleased with Neal's satirical stance. I sigh exasperatedly and run a hand through my hair, "You can think whatever you want, Neal. I simply know that opposite gender partners find it easier to take their partners as their romantic better halves. But that doesn't mean that partners are meant for being your better half. They are solely chosen on their ability to sustain a congenial relationship, irrespective of it being romantic or not. Plus, it's not a big deal. Yeah, I was shocked too when I found out that you're my partner but, hey, it doesn't really matter much, as long as you're around just as normal friends, it's cool. I am not looking for more, hell I don't want more."

Neal appraises my serious stance for a moment then sighs. "Yeah, whatever." He mutters, but doesn't exaggerate the topic further. He glances around his living room, sighing all the while. He points towards the vestibule on the other end, "I am going to go and get fresh and...pack some clothes or something..." he trails off.

Aakir and I nod simultaneously at Neal. Neal nods back and retreats towards the inside of his humongous house. I exhale in relief. It wasn't exactly all roses but I am glad this topic didn't raise an issue. We are partners and that's that. End of story.

"'No big deal'?" Aakir mutters, looking sideways in disdain at me.

I raise my eyebrows inquisitively, "I think that went rather well." I say slowly.

Aakir scoffs, "First of all, your partner is not 'no big deal'-"

"Aakir-" I interrupt.

"No, don't 'Aakir' me. Irrespective of gender, your partner is a big deal. You went a little nonchalant about it at the end."

"Aakir," I warningly interrupt again.

Aakir purses his lips, glaring at me.

I start in a lower voice, "Neal seemed already weary of this...thing. I think it was clever of me to play it out nonchalantly."

"Yeah," Aakir starts sarcastically, "Then you surely shouldn't expect him to comply being along you through life. Come on, Josh. Neal asked you to be honest about it-"

"I was honest."

"-You should have at least explained the severity of this situation."

"I don't get it." I snap. "What's so severe about it? I think I explained the concept quite efficiently to him."

"What's so severe about it?" Aakir asks rhetorically, "Are you sure Neal's your partner? Because, dude, I flip out at the prospect of having a simple nonchalant relationship with Silvia; more, I am blown out of the water if I imagine not having her around. How can you put something like that so...so...vaguely?"

"So, what? You want me to go and tell Neal that he was right to call us 'soul-mates'?" I ask sarcastically.

Aakir shakes his head, looking disappointed at my argument. But, hey, he doesn't have a guy for a partner. Neither is his partner demanding an explanation about therian concepts. So, I do not let Aakir's disappointment affect me because he probably doesn't understand my situation well.

"I am quite glad that we are not making a deal of it, Aakir." I tell him.

"Yeah, I get it." He snaps, "But this indifference is going to bite you in the ass later on." Aakir then exhales, seemingly taming his gaiety, "Although, as much nonchalant you were at the end that much in the starting you were screamingly spilling rainbows. No wonder Neal was quick in clearly stating his sexuality."

My ears start burning at his comment. I knew Aakir will not stay ireful for a long time but I didn't expect him to abruptly start teasing me for my non-existent 'gayness'.

"You weren't exactly being helpful by adding your opinion." I accuse, "So, shut the fuck up."

Aakir shrugs, walking deeper inside the house. We walk into the hallway that leads to a staircase and further to the backside of the house, in between which lays the huge kitchen. I thought the kitchen in my house was huge but this kitchen is humongous, even bigger than our kitchen. Considering the size of this bungalow, I shouldn't be surprised. It does come as a surprise though that a single person lives here. Or used to, whatever's appropriate.

"Hey, Neal!" Aakir shouts, standing halfway on the staircase.

"Yeah?" Neal shouts back from somewhere above, from supposedly his bedroom, I assume.

"Is there anything to eat at home?" Aakir shouts back.

"There must be." Neal's faded voice comes, "Check in the refrigerator!"

Aakir nods to himself and starts walking towards his destination, making me roll my eyes. Almost an hour passes in intermittent silence with Aakir munching on the variety of snacks he finds in the kitchen cupboards. Our argument doesn't let us freely speak with both of our noses stuck in the air. More than half of my attention is anyways directed to the idyllic aura that is stationary in the floor above us. I don't know what's taking Neal so long but a few moments back we had heard the shower running upstairs, so thought it wise to not interrupt and demand Neal's presence. It must be a lot for him to take all of this so suddenly, so I guess it's alright to give him a little space. Besides, I am not sure about his train of thought about these events. I don't know what he thinks of himself being the most important entity in the therian world out of nowhere. Hell, I don't know what he thinks of therians alone. Sidetracking that, it's the subject of his aunt, Jennifer, which has me gnawing my lower lip. He hasn't exactly seemed placated towards the revelations about his aunt; that is her nature and how she has come about to raise Neal. I still do not understand why Neal puts up alone. Wouldn't it have been safer for him to remain amongst therians?

When the clock marks our two hour presence in the house, I start to worry a little. Neal's aura is still effusing from above, seemingly stationary in one place. Aakir is now admiring the panoramic view of the ocean from the back windows of the vast kitchen, looking at ease. I tell him that I am going to check up on Neal. He simply shrugs, continuing to treat his eyes. Slowly, I make my way out of the kitchen and to the staircase, climbing one at a time. Once upstairs, I am greeted by an orotund hallway that makes me raise my eyebrows as I observe the opulence diffusing from every object. Be it the Persian rug or the contemporary candelabras at every corner or even the plain but opulentchandelier hanging at intervals. I ignore the humongous glass doors to my left that lead to a vast open verandah. I turn towards the right from where Neal's aura is coming. Ignoring the various doors in between, I quietly walk to the slightly ajar door from the inside of which the aura is exuding. I raise my hand and knock slightly. On not getting any response, I frown, softly knocking again while simultaneously opening the door.

Neal is oblivious as he sits in the center of his king size bed which suspiciously looks bigger than my own bed back home. He is sitting cross legged, his upper body rocking slightly back and forth, his hands covering his face with his elbows resting on his knee caps, making him look slightly crouched.

"Neal?" I say.

Startled, he abruptly snatches his hand away from his face, looking at me in alarm.

"Dammit." He curses, "Don't scare me." He mutters, frowning and averting his eyes, rubbing his right one.

"Eh, I knocked the door." I reveal. "You didn't respond."

Neal nods, still frowning.

"Is everything...okay?" I ask, taking a step inside his insulting large room.

"Hmm?" Neal replies, then shakes his head quickly, "Um, yeah...everything's just dandy." He drawls.

I don't miss the sarcasm.

It simultaneously makes me realize how stupid I am to ask if everything's alright. Of course nothing's alright. Not in the record at least.

I walk slightly to the left and lean against the wooden high end book showcase. Or what looks like a book showcase. "You seem slightly out of it." I tell him.

He rolls his eyes, "Aren't you an observant person?" he snaps.

"What's with the attitude?" I snap back. Seriously, hasn't he realized that we are on his team? Yeah, I understand it may be tough for him to grasp his status so drastically but lashing at people who are willing to stand by him hardly counts as a sensible reaction. It has started to tick me off.

Neal rolls his eyes, averting his eyes somewhere else. He doesn't say anything.

"Look," I start, "I'll not say I understand your position because most probably I do not. Even though I can, sort of, make out that it must be harsh on you suddenly learning about all of this. But a little cooperation is not going to hurt anyone. People are ready to stick around you; they are worried sick about you for your safety. Showing them your wrath is not an incredibly wise choice."

Neal doesn't say anything, glaring at some spot on his bed sheet.

I sigh, "Everyone's ready to help you, Neal. You should feel glad that you're not alone."

Neal scoffs, looking up at me, giving me a condescending glare.

"Don't stare at me." I say, "It's true. We are here to help you, your aunt's here from all the way to god knows where-"

"Please," Neal scoffs again.

"-They all are here for you." I tell him.

"No, Lichinsky." He replies, staring at me again, "There are here not for me but because of what I can do."

"Are you seriously shitting me?" I snap. What's wrong with this guy?

"Are you seriously shitting me?" he retorts. "You're one to talk, Lichinsky. The only reason you're standing right here is because of some hoodoo therian senses. So, don't tell me you're here for me. You're here because of some sort of a compulsion that I am sure you never wanted in the first place."

I open my mouth but no words form in my vocal cords. It dawns on me what he is thinking. I am left flabbergasted when I realize that I don't have a response to his theory. Yes, most of us all are apprehensive of Neal's fate because he is the vaticinator and yes, I want him to be safe because he is my partner. Will Neal gather even half of the attention he is getting now if that is not the case? If he is not the vaticinator, will his aunt still be there for him? Hell, if he was not my partner, will I even be here? That's kind of ironic because if it is neither of those cases then Neal will not be in this situation at all. And neither will he have anyone by his side because the situation will not call for it. Moreover, he is somewhere right to call this compulsion....Don't get me wrong, I may have been appalled to know of my partner but I have never been embarrassed or saddened. But that doesn't mean I am thrilled about it. I never have been. Right now, I feel ashamed to admit that if I am given a chance to change my partner, I'll grasp it. I don't dislike Neal, on the contrary I like him as a person, even with his sarcastic jibes, but I will still bolt down for a female partner. But with that not happening, I am left helplessly seeking for Neal's aura whenever I get the chance. Helplessly working to be in his good books and helplessly hoping for us to be best of friends because no other aura satisfies me anymore. No other person will satisfy my mental needs. I will not be making those efforts if Neal was not my partner.

"You're right." I mumble. Neal says nothing and I take that as my cue to continue. I suspire loudly, "But," I say, "You're my partner now and you're the vaticinator. Be it out of compulsion but none of us want you to be in jeopardy. So...I don't see the point of brooding over it."

Neal drawls, "Aren't you a sweet talker?"

I roll my eyes, "You can either be a sarcastic bitch or just accept things the way they are and work from there."

Neal scoffs at that again.

"Seriously, Neal? I don't see how being angry over something you can't help is going to bring you peace. You're more mature than that."

He gives me a glare at that. "How would you feel if the only family you had was lying to you since your birth?"

So, that is that. The main reason he is upset.

"The only family you have." I correct him, displeased at him referring to his family in past tense.

Neal rolls his eyes, "I don't have one, Lichinsky." He says bluntly,"And whatever doubts, or maybe I should say despair, I had has been largely exemplified by my aunt." He drawls the last two words.

"She is just looking out for you, Neal." I say, "She has been doing that since her teenage years, most probably."

"Because I am the vaticinator."

I sigh. "Just because she has been looking out for you because of your abilities doesn't mean that she doesn't consider you as her family. She has been taking care of you since you were a kid. She is obviously bound to develop some emotions for you, blood relationship or not, you being the vaticinator or not. She was very clear in stating that you and that David guy constitute her family."

Neal stoically appraises me for a moment then he sighs, "Develop some emotions?" he says, his voice sarcastic, "Yeah, right. The last time I checked, she had bothered to meet me when I was thirteen. And, even better, she calls to check on me only, maybe, once a year? Don't give explanations for her." He ends in a dead serious tone.

I purse my lips, unaware of how Neal has spent his life alone till now. I clear my throat, "Maybe she had her reasons to not be in contact." I mutter, "You know...since she is a therian and all and because of her contacts with therians in the outside world. I am sure she didn't want to expose you."

"Yeah, and that's enough reason for her to act superficially interested in my life, that is the lone times when she has been around. Distance can't be the reason behind a failed relationship. Fading interest or even lack of it in the first place causes it."

I shrug in exasperation, "Why are we even talking about this? Look, okay, I get it, she hasn't been exactly all 'we are family' loveable to you but now you sort of need her too. I mean, take it as payment for all the hardships you underwent and let her carry on her compulsive responsibility of protecting you. You're at a plus, anyway, even if you want to be angry at her demeanor."

Neal is silent for a long, long moment, contemplating.

"You're right." He mutters. "It'll be definitely better to have her for my protection, now that I am suddenly so vulnerable." His serious words are, as usual, accompanied by the roll of his eyes.

I give him a deadpan stare, "Oh, see, how selfless a person you are?"

Neal gives me a dry look, "Selflessness is for those who are satisfied with their lives."

"Alright, Mr. Miserable with enlarged egoism, don't be a chick about this. If it is like this, then it is like this. Deal with it."

"I am dealing." He mutters. He vaguely waves his right arm in front of him, "It's apparently not working."

I frown, "What?"

He sighs, "I was thinking...that...hey, I am the vaticinator." He says with false enthusiasm, "I have the ability to bend the future at my will. So, why not make the future be favorably inclined towards me and get rid of any therian tailing us." He then begins in a serious tone, "But I am not able to concentrate well. Though I have been sitting here only since an hour, but my concentration is not developing at all. Meaning, my concentration span is screwed, kind of."

"Hold on a second," I say, "You....you..."

"Don't tell me you haven't thought of it." He deadpans.

"I didn't." I tell him honestly. "It didn't cross my mind at all that we can make you build the future in our favor." I frown by the end, not happy with that. Somewhat, the idea of Neal forming future doesn't settle well with me.

He rolls his eyes, "You're slow, Lichinsky. Anyways, as I said I couldn't concentrate well....probably because I am kind of paranoid." He mutters, "If I get like four-five hours, then maybe I can see what I can do."

My frown deepens, "Neal...I may be a slow poke but I am quite sure our elders aren't so ignorant. If this was possible, I am sure they would have suggested it. Don't you think?"

Neal opens his mouth to respond but closes it again. He licks his lips, in deep thought, then sighs, "I won't know till I don't try."

"Maybe...I should talk to my father about it..."

Neal stares at me, "Even if he says no then also would it hurt if I try?"

"I don't know..." I say, dubious. "But I'd rather you don't do anything about it as of yet. I mean, it's the Occultists we are dealing with."

"Who said doing anything to the occultists? I am simply going to see if any therian is going to approach us and I am going to change just that. I'll just make none of the therians find us." He pauses, raising his eyebrows, "That is if I can concentrate enough to project my astral form."

"I'd still want you to consult father first." I say sternly.

Neal sighs, slightly glaring at me, "Whatever, daddy's boy. It's not like I can do anything with people around to distract me."

"Good." I say, earning a glare from him. I awkwardly scratch the side of my temple and avert my eyes to look around his room. My eyes fall on an intricately built book shelf, with each shelf protruding from the main trunk like a branch of a tree. Whatever Neal may say about Jennifer, the woman definitely has taste if she has built all the things in this house. The bookshelf is not stacked with books as I expect. It is in fact stacked by the columns of what seems like...paper. A newspaper? So many? I frown and walk towards it, almost without volition, as if my feet have a mind of their own. Upon reaching it, I see that these papers are not the local newspapers...not exactly at least.

Each shelf contains huge stacks ofour school's paper, The Plutocracy, orderly arranged by dates of their publication.

Punch line? These dates haven't come as of yet.

I pick one paper which displays the date of almost next to next Monday. Upon vaguely roving my eyes on the first page, I see the headlines of events that I am sure haven't yet occurred in our school. Impassively, I slowly turn around to look at Neal. Neal notices the future Plutocracy in my hands and his ears tinge bright red.

"Um," he stutters, "Well..." he trails off.

"Know what?" I mutter, "Don't say it." I say and toss the paper back onto the stack from which I had picked it up.

I officially don't like his future making ability.

Neal huffs, "It's not a big deal..."

I raise my eyebrows at him, making him avert his eyes, his ears still definitely flushed. I huff too, "Aakir will most definitely be pleased to see these." I say, the thought suddenly occurring to me.

"While you're utterly displeased." Neal adds.

I give him a stolid glance, "I never liked your 'job', okay? And knowing that you 'create' most of it is even a bigger damper."

Neal frowns but says nothing on it. He sighs, running his hand through his hair, "I don't understand..."

"That why do I dislike your paper?"

He rolls his eyes, "No, that's understandable." He says, "I mean...considering, as you say, we are 'partners', shouldn't we be, like, I don't know, a little less antagonistic with each other? I mean, we are mostly almost arguing."

I frown, "Is that how you see it? As antagonism?" I chuckle nervously. "I mean," I awkwardly shift from one foot to another, "arguing or not, I don't see you letting out your thoughts in front of any other person."

"...Right." Neal says, a thoughtful expression on his face as if he is just realizing that he has been talking about his feelings and doubts to me the most. He slightly shakes his head, "But it's not like I have a choice. I get along with you the most out of everyone in your house. If in my hands, I'll prefer Ananya or Alek over you, obviously."

"...."

"What?" he says as I continue to stare at him.

I clear my throat, "That was very subtle of you to say that I am not the perfect candidate for sharing your thoughts." I say, my voice dipped in sarcasm.

Neal looks at me amusedly, "Are you going to be a bitch about it?"

"No." I say quickly, "Forget it. We should go back to home." I say abruptly.

"Seriously, Josh?" Neal says, his eyebrows raised, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips, "You're being a bitch about it."

"I'm not." I snap.

"Yeah, right."

"It's not my concern whom you prefer, Neal." I sat coldly.

"It's not?"

"..."

Neal chuckles humorlessly at my silence, again, "You're being a bitch about it." He says, again.

I roll my eyes, "We should go."

Neal is silent for a moment, a comprehending look on his face, "Lichinsky?"

"What?"

"How serious is this...'partner' thing?"

"I told you it's not serious. Have you packed your stuff?" I look around, noticing a duffel bag at the foot of his bed.

"Well, it's obviously bothering you if I am sidelining you like that."

"It's not." I snap quickly.

"See?" Neal says, indicating at my snappy tone, "It's bothering you."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, "It's not bothering me, okay?" I say in a controlled voice. "This 'partner' thing is anyways related more with your aura. As long as you're just around, it's all cool."

"...related more with my aura?" Neal says.

"I told you, a therian recognizes his or her partner by the aura of their said partner."

Neal nods absentmindedly then frowns, "So...aura is for recognition....and...?"

I purse my lips, "As I had said before...your partner's aura mold with your own-"

"Yeah, I get it." He cuts me off, "What does it feel exactly?"

I stoically stare at him for a moment. I don't really want to divulge that it's attraction I feel for his aura. That'd be just gay.

I clear my throat, "It...uh, it feels good." I tell him.

"...That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, Lichinsky. You can be more elaborative than this."

I sigh, "It just makes me feel good." I say, "You know, like, the waves in your aura give a pleasant sensation on absorption. Like, it makes me feel peaceful...a goodness in the general sense....it just feels good." I end up awkwardly.

"That enough sounds gay already." He mutters.

I huff, "Tell me about it."

Neal smirks, "So, where does it manage to make you feel jealous of my friends?"

I bristle, "I am not jealous of your friends."

"Yeah, right." He says sarcastically, "Is it the aura or the general insinuation that I am your 'get along' buddy that's upsetting you?"

"I am not upset." I snap, "Seriously, would you cut it out already?"

"I am not a slow poke, unlike you, Lichinsky, to not figure out your change in demeanor." I scoff at his words; he continues irrespective, "In fact, now that I think of it, my aura giving you a simple sense of goodness sounds extremely vague. Vague enough to supposedly not make you upset if I don't give you the light of the day."

"Oh, for heaven's sake! I am not upset."

"Yeah, okay. As per your theory, it shouldn't be a deal if I am not around, either. I mean, what's a little lack of general goodness? I am feeling deprived of anything good and I am still surviving." He says, questioningly looking at me.

Looking thoroughly amused at my expense.

At testing my patience and my honestly.

Neal can be such a bastard.

A slight knock on the door breaks our glaring match. Suspiring, I look at Aakir who is standing at the half opened door with an abashed stance. Even through his hesitative stance, brief glimpses of worry on his face manage to come to my notice.

"What happened?" I ask, immediately assuming the worst.

"Uncle Nikcalled." Aakir says, "He is saying for us to return home soon." He looks at Neal, "With all of the important stuff that you think you would need."

"...That's it?" I ask Aakir, dubious of his normal words and anxious stance.

Aakir sighs, "Yes." He says miserably, looking angry and sad all at once, "If you don't want to count the fact that they are planning to fly us out of the country, then that's it."

  14. Heart-to-Heart

"What is the name of the city, again?" Neal asks, his eyes glued to his laptop. He is sitting cross legged on my bed, in my room, while I am pacing the length of my room.

"Krasnoyarsk." I mutter. I have never heard of the place before or rather my parents have made sure that I do not hear of it. And now, my father tells me that we all will be traversing to the same place. This place, which has been the home of my elders in the past years. Our realm, the Ninth Realm.

From what father has been able to divulge, the Ninth Realm spreads across Krasnoyarsk Krai and Sakha republic of Russia, both the federations being the largest in Russia, making the Ninth Realm third largest out of all the other realms, following the one in South America and of course, the largest, in United States of America. The First Realm in the USA is the largest for being the first region of generation of our species. South America and Russia have gathered the most therians after that because of the wide amounts of diversity available in those continents. The head council of the Ninth Realm resides at Krasnoyarsk Krai federation. I remember how inquisitive and downright demanding I used to be in my childhood. To know about our realm, the Ninth Realm. How big is it, how people live there and most importantly, where is it located? I used to be hell bent at grasping whatever I could about our realm. My parents, Aunt Rufina and Uncle Terry have always been shady about it. They never revealed anything significant about our realm, not even the reason behind their departure from the same.

And now I am going to visit that same realm.

"Dude," Neal's voice cuts through my thoughts, "Krasnoyarsk is like huge, a whole freaking federation. Where the hell are we going?"

I sigh, "There's a city by the same name within it." I tell him.

Neal nods in realization, his eyes still glued to his laptop, searching whatever he can about the place we are about to go to.

Upon returning from Neal's place, father had immediately updated us upon this new development. Upon inquiry, he revealed in his best stoic voice that we are going to ask for 'help' from our realm, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.The hit has been the most hard at Aakir.

Even now, I can hear very light voices of my brother and the elders discussing Aakir's plight. It had taken me a little while to understand the reason behind Aakir's anxiousness. But slip of the name 'Silvia' and I know why he is suddenly so distressed. He is not happy about leaving his partner behind, without knowing if he would even return or not. Because father has been exceptionally clear in stating that the whole issue may take an undetermined amount of time, which is surely not going to be short.

Neal and I are more worried over leaving our last year of school behind, much to Aakir's displeasure.

Realizing Aakir's situation, my own heart has dropped to the pit of my stomach. Partly because I know how enamored Aakir has become with the idea of his partner alone. And partly because I can never imagine myself at his position. With the cruelty unfathomed to me, I feel almost glad that it's Aakir and not me at his position. And that makes me wonder exactly how strong a bond with your partner is supposed to be. Yes, I know, a partner can provide you the kind of goodwill that you may never receive from anyone else. The kind of pleasantness which if you've experienced once, you cannot fathom to live without the sensation. The respite at knowing that there is one person who will be a perfect counterbalance by your side is incomparable to any other tranquility achieved. Not to mention the heightened attraction the aura of your partner holds for you. Those positive affirmations make a person stay by his partner by his own volition. Considering it's by your own will, upon assessing the positivity, you decide to stay with your partner, I do not expect this situation to be irrevocable. But even the thought of unconsciously not remaining beside my partner sure as hell manages to create an endless pit in my stomach, managing to make me feel pathetically deplorable. I should have really paid to attention to the lessons by my elders regarding 'partners' because I definitely am flummoxed at the sudden intensity of emotions regarding the subject. Also confounded at how gay this all is; no pun intended.

"Hey." Neal says, making me snap out of my reverie. I raise my eyebrows at him in question. "May I use your phone?" He asks.

I sigh, "Neal, Dad said that it's wise you don't talk to your friends."

Neal rolls his eyes, "You guys are just being hard headed simply because I got my phone crushed in the mishap your uncle pulled, leaving me helpless."

"For the last time, Ethan isn't my uncle." I snap. "And what do you mean that we are being hard headed?" I glare at him, "We are just being cautious."

"Yeah, then maybe we should be more cautious and let me inform my friends to not divulge anything unwanted about me in case they are interrogated in the near future." Neal says, sarcastically smiling at me.

I suspire, "Neal, you shouldn't inform where-"

"I am not a kid, Lichinsky. I know what to tell and what not to tell."

I roll my eyes and hold out my phone to him. "Don't tell dad I let you use it." I mutter, moving towards my bedroom door. Rome is restlessly pounding just above our heads but thankfully he is not screaming or growling. He is another person for which the whole house is worried. If we are to leave, we sure as hell do not know the time of our return. And we can't exactly take a savage Rome with us in an airplane, like he is our pet dog or something.

I stand motionlessly, my attention switching between my partner's conversation on the phone and my brother's discussion going on downstairs. When Neal is conversing with Ananya on the phone, my attention is helplessly drawn solely towards it. I am surprised to notice that by the way Neal is talking to Ananya, she seems to know a lot more about him than I would have guessed. Yeah, I know they are best friends but I don't expect Neal to disclose about his abilities even to her. But by the talks of it, Ananya seems aware of Neal's 'future making' ability. And that makes me wonder exactly how close the two are. I hear as Neal continues to warn Ananya against telling anyone about his 'skills'. He takes even longer time in assuring her that he is fine and that he is not going to be around, but she should remain oblivious. Another longer time with him telling her that he is going to miss her and he'll, optimistically, be back soon. And yap, yap, yap...I am starting to get annoyed by their clichéd conversation. Yeah, you're closest of close friends, I get it. Doesn't mean you have to talk like it's your last conversation. Alright, I know I am being bitter but hey, I am not into all lovey dovey affection, even with friends, so it's certainly hard for me to grasp. But then I shouldn't be surprised. Neal has hinted before that he has interests in Ananya, in more than 'we're friends' sort of way. Falling for your best friend. Talk about obvious, I roll my eyes.

"You keep scowling and your face is going to get stuck like that."

I give a pointed look at my partner's remark.

"What has you whining, now?" Neal asks, almost drawling. His polite way of asking what's wrong with me.

I give him a dry look, "Is there anything going on for which I shouldn't be, as you say, 'whining'?"

"Don't give me the long face." Neal retorts, "I am the star of the story out here," he smirks, "The one who is in demand, the one after whom a freaking 'realm' is coming. Someone with a tormenting past, and an equally shady future.Someone who is leaving behind his only friends and, not exactly a girlfriend, but something close to it. So, considering the situation, I should be the one who is tensed and sad and whatnot."

"Man," I say, "You seriously watch a lot of movies."

Neal chuckles, shrugging, "I don't exactly have a family to spend time with in my spare time. So, yes, I do watch a lot of movies." He says.

Now that makes me stupidly squirm a little on my spot. It's bizarre how casual he is while saying stuff like that. But then, he really has never had a family. How can he even know what he is missing?

"But, seriously, what's wrong?" Neal asks in such a serious tone that it has me raising my eyebrows warily. I may not know Neal well but I do know that sarcasm and Neal are sort of conjoined twins. Having him talk seriously is definitely making my eyebrows twitch.

"Our sudden emigration?" he asks further, when I do not respond.

I sigh, "Yeah." I mutter. And it's not a lie. The idea of suddenly dropping out of final year and moving to not only a new countrybut to a freaking new continent hasn't exactly settled well with me, irrespective of us going to the realm I have been dying to know about. But obviously, that's half of the reason. I can't exactly say to Neal that I despise the way he talks to his best friend, now can I?

"I thought you'd be excited to see your...realm. I mean, you haven't ever visited it, right?"

"Yeah," I drawl, "It's not like I am not looking forward to it but," I drop my voice, "all of this seems to be happening at the expense of other important things. Not to forget, it seems to be happening for all the unwanted reasons too."

Neal nods. "Say....can I ask you something?"

"You already did." is my dry reply.

Neal rolls his eyes, almost tiredly, "Well, I'll ask only if you promise to be honest."

"What are we, five? That you need a pinky promise?"

"You haven't exactly been all openly honest with me, Lichinsky. Don't blame me."

I sigh. "Go on."

"Okay...so, Aakir? What's happening?"

I should have known he'll ask about Aakir and the discussion going downstairs. Now what do I tell him? That they are discussing about his partner? That his partner is an enough big deal to be discussed? Yeah, right. Neal and I had left our banter in his room incomplete once Aakir had turned up. But I am sure Neal hasn't forgotten about the challenges he put up to my face. And I am not exactly sure how to build more lies.

"It's about his partner, Silvia, right?" he asks when I don't reply. "And, please, be freaking honest."

I sigh. Well, here goes nothing.

"Yeah." I tell him, "Father is not being certain about our return, so, Aakir is worried....that he may not see Silvia again."

Neal clears his throat, "Silvia doesn't know...?"

"No. Aakir accidently bumped into her in our shop."

"Shop?"

"Yeah. We have a decorative stuff shop in the peter's market."

"I see."

"Yeah and Aakir has met Silvia quite recently, so no, he hasn't told her about us..."

"So...okay, don't lie, but this 'partner' thing is serious, right?"

I suspire, rolling my eyes in frustration, "Neal-"

"Dude," he interrupts, "Seriously, I won't freak out. Just don't lie, okay? I think I have had enough lies for my whole life. And you can't earnestly say that Aakir's worrying needlessly. I don't know Aakir well but he doesn't seem the 'worry' type. And if something's got his boxer in a bunch then I am quite certain it's not something of nonchalance value."

I take a moment. "Aakir takes this whole partner thing quite seriously-"

"Lichinsky, seriously, man?" Neal interrupts me yet again, his voice hard and his eyes staring at me impassively.

I purse my lips. He is certainly not up for any excuses, is he?

"This is going to be awkward." I mutter, looking at the walls of my bedroom.

"Just tell me, okay?" Neal says, his voice not as hard as before. I watch as he hesitatively speaks next, "Are we supposed to be gay?"

"For God's sake! No." I snap, "I wasn't lying when I said that the partner thing is not supposed to be romantic."

"Well, it certainly doesn't seem as vague as you fully describe it." Neal snaps back.

"Okay," I run a hand down my face, "Alright...so, yeah, it's not vague..."

"And?"

"Okay...." I breathe out heavily.

"How weird is it?" Neal asks.

I roll my eyes, "It's not weird....alright, amongst us therians," I start, "having a partner is considered as a blessing of sorts, okay?"

"...Why?"

"Because...as I had explained earlier, having a partner means you will never be alone, plus your partner is one person you'll get along with at all times. It's considered an honor if you have someone like that around because nobody else can manage to provide you with the amount of pleasantness that your partner can."

"...Yeah, this is awkward." Neal says.

I grunt, "You wanted to hear it."

A lengthy silence commences, for which 'awkward' might just be the exact word. I am staring at a nearby wall and my peripheral view assures me that Neal's looking somewhere else too.

Neal clears his throat, making me look at him. He is looking at my bed and then lifts his head to look at me, "That's it?" he asks for confirmation.

That's it? That's certainly not it.

To lie or not to lie?

Aw, hell. This heart-to-heart is getting awkward as it is. Maybe I should be done with it at once. Like ripping off a bandage in one go.

"It's the aura." I say, giving in, "On sensing the aura of your partner, you feel good. Not 'it's a nice day' good but like 'I have won a lottery today' good. It offers a very quaint tranquility, something that I, at least, haven't sensed anywhere else. It manages to keep you in good spirits from within. Plus for me, your aura usually exudes an excited kind of exhilaration. Now, every other therian can sense that but it's the most potent for me because you're my partner. So, apart from it making me feel aesthetically calm, your aura also manages to make me feel exalted at sensing that excitement. Also, your partner's aura holds a weird quality of making you feel content. To feel satisfied by the mere presence of it. Anybody who may have felt these sensations will not settle for anything less. And that's the case here. Aakir will not be happy with the idea of not having his partner around."

"And so wouldn't you." He states, his face devoid of expressions. I don't comment on his remark, choosing to nonchalantly look around. Neal sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and raising his eyebrows, "So..." he clears his throat, "What exactly happens if the partner is not around?"

I sigh, "Your partner not around you permanently? I have no idea what that does to you. There are no records of anyoneleaving his or her partner or living without his or her partner. The compatibility between partners is too good to not even make the thought of living without your partner come by. But, there are therians who do not have a partner, like Aunt Rufina. And she is perfectly normal with the lack of a partner but she is never satisfied by any other person either, so..."

"So, she is a single parent." Neal mumbles.

"She doesn't know what kind of sensations you feel from your partner, so she probably doesn't know what she is missing. But at the same time she knows what she is lacking as she can't find it in anybody else. This whole thing is quite complex."

"No shit." Neal says, "And that's it? That's all my aura feels to you? Like you're at top of the world?" he says, sarcastically. Probably for the first time I am thankful for his sarcasm. The air was getting too awkward, too fast.

I scoff, "More like at the bottom of a pit. This was sure to be less awkward with a girl." I blurt.

Neal raises his eyebrows, "Why is that so?"

I falter, not expecting that question. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean?" he fires back, "You're a therian, so you should have surely anticipated having a partner and since you, yourself, said that it implies no romance then you shouldn't feel awkward with the gender of your partner. I mean, you must have known it can be anyone, a guy or a girl. So, why the hell would it be less awkward with a girl? For all I know, you should have been prepared for this."

Now that leaves me speechless. He thinks I knew from before that your partner can be of any gender, huh? Firstly, I did not expect myself to find a partner at all and second and most important of all, I certainly expected a beautiful broad with whom I'll have a mature romance. The least I expected a nerdy guy to whom I'll be awkwardly explaining the ups and downs of therian lifestyle.

"Oh, don't tell me." Neal says, observing my stance, "You were not prepared." He states, more than questioning it.

"I didn't know same gender partners existed." I blurted on instinct.

"Excuse me?" Neal says, his left eyebrow twitching.

"I didn't know that." I say again, not sure what exactly my face is displaying.

Neal takes several moments to respond, "Are there even any more partners like us? Like two guys being partners?"

"Yeah, yeah." I assure him, frowning. "Remember Ethan? The guy who attacked you."

"Your uncle."

I glare at Neal while he minutely smirks, "He is not my uncle." I recite a hundredth time, "He...Ethan has a male partner. My father had requested his presence so he could throw some light on my situation of having a guy as a partner. That's why he was in here in Latvia at all."

"Well," Neal drawls, "lot of good that did. And," he frowns, "What do you mean that he was here to throw some light on your situation?"

I sigh, "Like I said, I didn't know same gender partners existed, so..." my voice drop lower, "I kind of freaked out when I discovered you to be my partner. So, father immediately brought someone who has already been in my situation. Plus, Ethan's realm, that's the First Realm; Ethan told me there are a lot of same gender partners out there." I quickly tell him in gist, to assure him that we are not freaks, that there are people like us out there.

"Hold on a second...You know me since...middle school, right?"

"Uh huh."

"So, why call Ethan now?"

I frown, "Because it's only a few days back I discovered you to be my partner?" my explanation comes out as a question.

Neal grimaces, "But you know me since three-four years. What, you suddenly realized that I am your 'forever-together' buddy?"

"Oh." I say, realizing what Neal is asking, "Ugh," I groan, when I realize that I'll probably have to explain that you need to be a mature therian to sense your partner.

"What?" Neal snaps, noticing my reluctance.

I sigh, "Well, I just matured a few days back."

"Um..." Neal trails off, thinking of what to make of my sentence.

I roll my eyes, "It's a therian thing. A therian usually matures in his or her late teenage years. It is accompanied by gaining the full-fledged abilities of a therian. The ability to sense your partner is one of them. Don't ask me to explain the maturation in detail. I am not in the mood."

"Okay, I get it." Neal grunts quietly, "So," he starts in a louder voice, "You freaked out when you found out that a guy is your partner, okay." He says and continues further,"All the opposite gender partners, guy and a girl, end up as a couple?" he confirms.

I sigh, "That's understandable-" I start.

"Yeah, I get it. I know that's understandable. I am just asking. All of them, couples, huh?"

"Yeah." I concede warily.

"And...Ethan? He and his partner....they are like, together...?" He trails off.

Well, isn't that a billion dollar question?

I sigh, again, "Yeah," I mutter, "But then, Ethan and his partner are best friends since childhood." I say.

"And that's an explanation for why they have ended as a couple?"

Obviously it's not, but I don't reply to Neal.

"What about other same gender partners?" Neal asks further.

"Look," I snap, glaring at Neal, "Can we cut this out and try not to make this more awkward than it already is?"

"Hey," he snaps back, "I just want to see how deep in shit I am."

"You're not in deep shit." I assure him, "I don't care how many gay or lesbian partners are out there. Conceptually, partners are not meant for romance and I sure as hell am not inclining towards it. All I want is your aura to be around, that's it. So, no, your straight ass is not in deep shit. Don't make this more awkward for us."

Neal assesses me for a moment then disappointedly looks away, "Fine." He mutters, seemingly not satisfied by my explanation but I'll be damned if I have to answer one more of his awkward question. Neal starts picking on the threads of my bed sheet, pointedly looking away from me, his expressions blank yet managing to convey his disdain at my snappy tone. Oh, God, are you kidding me? What is he, a kid who got his candy snatched away?

"I am serious, Neal." I say in an assuaging tone nonetheless, "You don't have to worry about me proposing to you." I can't help but throw in some sarcasm at his childishness.

Neal snorts, "I am not worried about that. I mean," he hastily corrects himself, "Yeah, that'd be just weird, not to mention that I'll just turn you down but the presence of the aura of your partner is all you require?" he asks, quickly changing the subject and squinting at me.

"Well, aren't you a lad who wants the situation to be more and more awkward?"

Neal rolls his eyes, "I just want to be aware of the whole situation."

I awkwardly scratch the side of my temple, "Yeah, a sort of mental connection is desired, of course. That's understandable, too. Since your aura, which is the actual thing that attracts your partner, is a result of how your thoughts process in your mind;the partner invariably hopes of developing some sort of a connection with the same mind."

Neal nods, indicating that he understands me, "Attraction?" he asks, still slightly nodding his head.

Yeah, trust him to pick the word. It's like he deliberately wants to create the tension in the air.

I shrug nonchalantly, "It's attraction you feel for the aura. I have just been using different words before."

Neal raises his eyebrows and then drops them instantly. "Okay." he simply says.

And now the real awkwardness marks its presence. Now with the end of that discussion, both of us have suddenly gone quiet with our gazes aimed at any of spots in my room, other than at each other. It's like both of us are devoid of any new topic and both of us can't think of indulging into some other activity. It's not every day I tell a guy that he is my partner and that his presence makes me happy in a very sappy way and that I need him to be around for my congruency. I also indirectly revealed that I most probably desire an emotional bond with him, if nothing romantic. It's bound to make things awkward. I don't know if this uneasiness is going to be long lasting but if it is then I'll surely be asking the triple goddess to open the earth and swallow me whole. I shift towards the door of my bedroom and feel a therian aura coming upstairs. Probably Aakir; bless his soul. I hear the familiar tic tac sounds behind me which is probably Neal working on his laptop again.

Aakir's worried face comes in my view, immediately making me forget the self-conscious discomfort due to Neal. I silently raise my eyebrows as Aakir walks towards my room. Aakir sighs as he reaches me. He gives me a helpless look and passes by me to enter my room. He stops at merely two steps inside my room.

"Hey." Neal says when he notices Aakir.

"I need a favor from you." Aakir says to Neal.

Neal and I simultaneously raise our eyebrows, while exchanging a glance with each other. Thankfully, it doesn't feel much awkward anymore.

"What is it?" Neal asks Aakir.

Aakir sighs, "I need you to make Silvia come with us. I will tell her about myself, about us therians, and that she is my partner. I want you to make sure that she accepts me and comes with us to Krasnoyarsk."

"That's the best conclusion you guys came out with?" I say, slightly shocked. I expected anything but not this. Not Neal meddling with the future for our gains. I don't know if I am more appalled at my elders allowing something this illegitimate or at them asking my partner to do something this illegitimate. Neal hasn't exactly been reluctant to meddle with the future for The Plutocracy, so I suppose my anger is at the former.

"Yes, Josh," Aakir replies, frustrated, "That's the best conclusion out of the discussion. Because clearly they can't think of any other solution. And neither is your dad able to affirm that we'll return for sure. So, yes, that's the only answer I am able to get." I am surprised at the shear frustration in Aakir's stance. As I have said numerous times before, it takes a lot to shake a guy like Aakir. Ignoring me, Aakir turns back to Neal, "I have taken permission from the elders. They are okay with it. I just need your consent....and of course for you to do the deed."

Neal watches, agape, at the request. He then suddenly laughs, but without humor, "Dude...okay," he rubs the back of his neck, "I have tampered with a person's will before...but for nothing of significant value. A slight hitch here and there....but I have never full on altered or created someone's will for something this substantial."

"But you can do it, right?" Aakir asks.

"...Yeah." Neal replies with slight reluctance, "I mean, yes, I am sure I can. I am just saying that I don't think it's a good idea to tamper with someone's will for such a huge decision."

Aakir suspires, turning to look at me once. For a third person, he may be looking slightly worried, but I know how miserable he is feeling from inside.

"Aakir, we may find something else." I say, trying to encourage him in vain. I am not at all happy with Neal using his abilities for our benefit. That just spells wrong in every angle.

"I wouldn't ask for it if I could see any other way out, Josh." Aakir says, almost pleading with that annoying innocent look on his face. He turns towards Neal, "Please?" he says.

Neal confusedly traverses his eyes from my disappointed face to Aakir's pleading one.

Neal raises his eyebrows at me, "I know that you don't like my abilities." He states.

Before he can continue, I interrupt, "Yes, I don't. But, I mainly don't like it when you use it for something likeThePlutocracy." I clarify, hesitatingly.I glance at a hopeless Aakir once then sigh heavily, "But I guess it's okay here..." I concede reluctantly, "If you can use it for entertainment there, then I am sure you can use it here....now you already know how important Silvia is...so, I guess, it should be okay."

Aakir frowns, "You told him?" he asks me, not at all being subtle. I am quite sure Neal will realize too that Aakir is talking of the 'severity' of the partner situation.

"Yeah." I reply to Aakir, feeling the same awkwardness creeping up.

"Yeah, I am aware." Neal says dryly, "But," he looks at me "You don't have to sound so disappointed," Neal huffs, "I am not in favor of such a big alteration either...but I suppose it wouldn't hurt anyone."

I roll my eyes, knowing very well that he doesn't consider it to be very big deal, "Yeah, so, will you?"

Neal mimics my rolling of eyes and lands his eyes on Aakir, "Alright, I will. But I need a lot of hours for that. Like, a lot of hours. In silence; preferably alone. I have been having difficulties in attaining the projection stage during meditation, so I require absolute concentration for long hours. Our flight is at after midnight, right? We still have time before that."

"Yeah. But, oh, uh, you don't have to worry about the long hours." Aakir says, his face contemplating. "I think I can make you project instantly."

"What?" Neal and I say simultaneously.

"Okay, it's just a theory but I think my astral form may be able to provide the push your astral form requires to be out of your body." Aakir explains, "Since, you know, our bonding was made in the astral form. So the excess energy I am sustaining at your expense can actually help you project yourself with ease."

"Um..." Neal says.

"It's just a theory but everyone, Jennifer, Uncle Nik and Uncle Terry, they all consented that it might be a possibility. I hinted that you may be able to alter the future and make none of the therians attack us; I also revealed that you have been having problems with projecting your astral form, and hence require longer hours for that-"

"How did you know that?" Neal asks, frowning, "I was talking to Josh about that at home."

Aakir taps his ear, "Heightened hearing." He says, then dubiously turns to look at me, "You told him about our hearing, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." I assure.

"Okay," Neal says, "What did they say about that? I can make the therians not come for us?"

Aakir sighs, "Actually, you can't. I'll tell what they told me, but later. Anyways, the gist is, that when I told them it requires hours for you to project, this idea of me helping you project suddenly came to my mind and I put it forth in front of them. And they all agreed that it's a possibility. So...we should probably try it for Silvia."

"Ah, well. Okay." Neal says, shutting down his laptop's lid.

"Great." Aakir says, walking towards my bed. He takes off his shoes and lies down on the side of the bed that is empty. He lies down still and closes his eyes.

"Um?" Neal says, his hands still lingering on his closed laptop, his eyes watching Aakir in confoundedness.

Aakir opens up his right eye, "I just need to will myself to project. As my astral body leaves, I simply fall asleep."

"Yeah, that's dandy." Neal says, drawling, "But I need to meditate a little and I can't do that with disturbances around." He purposefully looks at me and then at the ceiling where a restless Rome is still roving about. "I need complete silence." He declares.

Aakir sighs, closing his eyes again, "Just try it, okay? Maybe you won't require absolute silence."

Neal rolls his eyes but complies. He pushes his laptop away and gives me a funny look. I watch, slightly surprised when Neal easily switches to the lotus position, his legs intertwined, making me raise my eyebrows at the flexibility. I didn't know he did meditation with all the perfect rules in the yoga book. Neal closes his eyes, breathing deeply, his hands resting on his knees, palm facing upwards. Then there is nothing. Neal doesn't move and Aakir is seemingly off to sleep. Five minutes pass with me moronically staring at my brother and my partner, both of whom are nearly comatose from what I can tell. Neal is sitting absolutely straight, his spine erect, yet his posture managing to look slightly slacking. Dubiously, I stand there for another ten minutes waiting for Neal to snap open his eyes and complain that he requires absolute silence. Because even with no one speaking in my room, Rome's movements are loud enough and distant sounds of people talking and utensils moving are not completely inaudible. Or it just maybe my therian senses.

Irrespective, I watch as my partner remains motionless, his face devoid of emotions, his posture slack, but at the same time completely spiffed. On the other side is Aakir, drooling in his 'sleep'. With no movement from either of them for a long, long time, I assure myself that they are definitely off to la-la land. Impressed, I take one last look and turn around to exit the room in search of my mother. I am suddenly feeling famished.

  15. The Building Trust

I am, I believe, illegally sitting on the airplane which has just been declared to be landing at the airport of our destination. At first, I had again thought of reflecting on what kind of bizarre situationsI have been landing myself into but then I thought, what the hell. I may continue to have insightful thoughts upon the reversal of my completely normal life but let's be honest; it's just a waste of time and my energy, not to mention my worrisome thoughts only to manage to make me feel more like a girl. And considering my potential gay status, it's good if I do not acquiesce and surrender to my sappy thoughts. Besides I have realized that I am not exactly saddened at the thought of not going to school. So I let my case rest.

I look to my left only to find a tensed Aakir, his eyes fixed at a position diagonal from where he is sitting. I sigh. Neal and Aakir succeeded in their mission. A confused Silvia sitting two rows ahead of me is a proof. What none of us anticipated was the sudden melancholic state of Silvia upon her arrival with us. In a state of confoundedness and blurred conceptions, a highly bewildered Silvia listened to Aakir and agreed to jump off the cliff with us. But her assent doesn't imply she is all dandy with it now. From the moment she stepped onto the airport in Latvia, she has been bawling her eyes out, more than once coming to the conclusion that she is making the wrong decision of coming with us. The ladies of our house comforted her to the best of their abilities but none managed to convince her that her decision is not wrong. Silvia is going to be completely flipped if she realizes this decision was not even hers to make.

Neal had looked embarrassed upon witnessing the dour state of Silvia, his impassive face that I have come to decipher sometimes, displayed him to be internally gnawing at his conscience at making an innocent girl acquiesce to something she may never have agreed to in her normal state of mind.

Hypocrite. I snort.

What? I can't possibly be expected to feel all mushy to discover that my partner has a conscience after all. He had been in fact bending the wills of students of our high school for almost three years.

I look at my other side to find a softly snoring Neal, slumped against the window he has so demanded to sit right next to. And well, he snores too, for the record. I keep the information tucked away in my mind for a rainy day.

Every one of my family members is silent. Aakir is, of course, tense, dubious about the decision he has made regarding Silvia. Rahul is sitting next to him, completely oblivious, as if we are going off on a vacation. Faith on the other hand is still providing comfort intermittently to Silvia, both of whom are sitting together. My mother and Aunt Rufina have also taken their turns at explaining and assuaging Silvia. They didn't succeed too well but Silvia is not literally bawling her eyes out now, settling to instead just occasionally sniff, failing against the betrayed trails of tear streaks. Father and Uncle Terry are sitting together, completely mute. The same silence is observed from David and Jennifer who are sitting in the front most row.

How in the world my family could manage all of us to be shipped to a new country, much less a new continent, within a span of a few hours is beyond my comprehension. My curiosity did spike up, making me ask Father and Uncle Terry about it. Both have muttered something about 'contacts' and 'emergency'and then both chose to busy themselves with some or the other work. Even now they are being shady. I mean, seriously?

But all of us have not come. Aunt Gwen is not with us. Now that had had me flipping out while departing from the house with Gwen aunt walking back inside the house. There was already a lot of chaos with everyone fretting over the abundant amount of belongings we are dragging with us; two suitcases alone carrying the innumerous books of my father's library, some so old that they required to be packed with disinfectant with enough room space about them.

While packing things for, maybe, a permanent departure, you're sure to flip out to realize that a family member is being left behind. It's not like I deeply care about that woman but she is still family. And Uncle Terry's partner. How can he even manage to leave her behind? Is that something you manage to accomplish with age? But then I had learned that she is not permanently remaining behind. She has chosen to stay back to 'handle' Rome's situation and decide his 'fate'. Uncle Terry sounded grim enough, immediately making me fire ten more questions at him. He managed to divulge that Gwen aunt will be traversing the length of the forest with Rome. Both being siblings, Aunt Gwen is used to with Rome's harsh animalistic nature and will be able to 'handle' it. Handle it how, I have no idea. The idea sounded bizarre as it is. I can't even imagine someone pulling off being around Rome. But then I have always had hints that Uncle Terry had met Aunt Gwen in the wilderness where the latter had been roving about with her brother, Rome. I suppose she knows what she is dealing with. She will be reaching Krasnoyarsk in another two days' time. What is she going to do with Rome, I don't want to think about it.

So, I don't.

I turn and shake Neal's shoulder when our arrival is announced again. Groggily, he gets up, looking disoriented. Soon we are off, collecting our luggage and checking out of the airport at Novosibirsk,all of us not uttering a word. We have to catch a train from here to Krasnoyarsk. I can already sense the train journey not being very pleasant. Father and Uncle Terry lead our cult in search of a taxi when we step outside, each one of us strolls the luggage container piled with our duffel bags and suitcases. I watch as Neal awkwardly looks away from a still silently weeping Silvia.

Oh, well.

Once we haul ourselves in the taxis, it takes eons to reach the railway station. Another round of awkwardness commences when we all gather around at the station and wait for father to get our tickets. However, the train ride is not that awkward. Most of us are tired so we end up taking short naps. The only burden is the excess amount of luggage we are carrying around. Fifteen hours pass by surprisingly in a jiffy owing to my sleep. When we step onto the platform of the Trans-Siberian railway station at Krasnoyarsk, I am awed by the hefty movements of numerous people around. Liepāja is not a crowded city, so even this much of population at the station takes me by surprise. More surprising is when I sense therian auras around in the crowd. I am immediately on high alert but the rest are at ease. Father informs me that therians are not a rarity here. The railway station is at the heart of the city and the city is one of the headquarters of one of the therian Realms. Outside, I see people in numerous forms of winter wear. It's weird how some of the people are already adorning winter clothes. The weather has the same coolness as I am accustomed to in Liepāja. Hence, my simple full sleeves t-shirt feels sufficient. People are moving about and not at all glancing at us. Not even the therians give us the light of the day, though I expect some reaction in response to Neal's aura at least.

Father informs that he will look for a taxi so they can reside in a hotel in the outskirts of Krasnoyarsk. He doesn't want undue attention towards Neal till he has talked with the people of his Realm. Silvia starts sniffing quietly again.

"Alright," Father says as he comes back to our whole group which was standing in an uneasy silence, with only Silvia's sniffs echoing around us. We must be quite a site, I muse.

"We are going to get a room in some hotel in the outskirts first. Therians are generally not around in the outskirts and we anyways need to keep a low status till we talk to the head council." Father says, "So, we'll get a room and then Terry and I will go to the head council residence."

"We'll come with you." David says, for himself and Jennifer.

Father sighs, "It's better if just Terry and I-"

"We'll come with you, Nik." Jennifer says, leaving no room for argument.

"I believe it is better if none of the protector's family is exposed till we acquire some positive response." Father reasons.

Jennifer sighs, looking at David. David nods, "Alright, Jennifer can stay. But I'll come."

Father sighs in defeat, "Alright. Let's go."

By the time we reach the hotel, darkness climbs up. We take up rooms in duality. No room is reserved for Father, Uncle Terry and David.They plan to leave for the head council as soon as they can and will probably stay the night at the concentrated colonies of the realm, irrespective of the response of the head council. So, I am left to share the room with Aakir. Mother and Aunt Rufina coddle a distressed Silvia and make her stay in the room with them. Jennifer requests Neal to share the room with her, for which Neal looks extremely reluctant. But he gives in nonetheless, probably sensing that his aunt wants to talk in private with him. Faith and Rahul are off to their room instantly after the departure of father, Uncle Terry and David.

I flop down on the queen sized bed, letting the exhaustion catch up to me. Again, it's not so much the physical exhaustion as it is the mental exhaustion. Aakir sitting at the corner of his own queen sized bed is the last thing I remember before I succumb to sleep.

When I open my eyes, it is to Aakir gently shaking me awake.

"Hmm?" I say, rubbing my eyes and forcing myself to sit up.

"You should eat. Order whatever you want on speed dial nine," he motions at the hotel telephone on the tabouret, "They'll send it up."

"You ate?" I ask groggily.

"Yeah." Aakir replies, "I am going to go and check on Silvia."

I flick my wrist to check the time, feeling surprised at realizing that I have slept for more than three hours. It's ten thirty at night.

"You're gonna check on her now?" I say, "Wouldn't she be planning to sleep or something?" I yawn.

"No." Aakir says, getting up. "I have been checking on her room at every half hour. She has been sleeping much like you since our arrival."

"Well...she is bound to be exhausted." Because of crying so vehemently. I don't add the last part, finding it an unnecessary punch at Aakir.

Aakir sighs, shuddering, "Yeah." He whispers, probably grasping my unspoken words.

A knock on our door snaps us out of our conversation. I sense Neal's unique aura reverberating just outside the door and I hastily get up, running my hair through my bed hair, hoping to tame it down a little.

I curse at my involuntary antics, while Aakir, oblivious, walks to the door and opens it. Neal is standing, frowning, his hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans, his voluminous t-shirt incompletely and haphazardly tucked inside his pockets along with his hands.

"...Hey." He says uncertainly, glancing from Aakir to me.

"Hey, what's up?" Aakir says.

I roll my eyes at the both of them, "Oh, hey, everything's dandy," I say, my voice high on sarcasm, "Funny seeing you after such a long time."

Aakir sighs, while Neal rolls his eyes back at me.

"May I talk with you?" Neal says, his uncertainty back as he watches me apprehensively, pointedly choosing to not look at Aakir.

Aakir coughs awkwardly, "I am actually going. Have to check on Silvia."

"Doesn't matter." Neal scoffs, "Even if you were staying back, I'd just ask Lichinsky to move outside."

Whoa, aren't we a blunt bunch? I sardonically chuckle, rubbing the sleep away from my eyes.

"Gee, thanks." Aakir mutters, giving me one weird look and moving past Neal towards the outside.

Awkwardness creeps up as soon as Aakir disappears. Neal clears his throat, stepping inside and nonchalantly shutting the door.

"Eh, have you eaten?" I ask, in hopes of lessening the discomfiture. I turn to pick up the menu lying beside the bed.

"Yup." Neal responds, walking to Aakir's bed and siting on the edge. "You haven't?"

"Nah, I just got up." I tell him, rubbing my eyes again and checking out the à la carte. "I didn't even freshen up. Just slept as soon as I hit the sack."

Neal simply hums.

I pointedly keep looking at the menu. I don't even know how come suddenly I am feeling so awkward with Neal around. Okay, I surely disclosed things, some potentially embarrassing things, but come on. He is my partner. Probably the last person I should be at ill ease with. That last particular thought in turns manages to make me feel even more awkward. Even the calmness his aura is offering is not managing to tame my anxious thoughts. Which is completely weird, by the way.

"Uh, you wanted to talk about something?" I say, nonchalantly looking up from the menu at Neal.

He has been silently and expressionlessly appraising me. At my question, he simply raises his eyebrows.

"Oh." He says, "Yeah, actually, yes."

I silently urge him to go on.

He rubs the back of his neck, taking off his loafers and sitting cross legged on the edge of Aakir's bed.

"Can people hear us?" he asks.

I sense for any aura outside our room but find none. "Nope. No one's outside."

Neal hesitates, "What about everyone in other rooms? Can they hear us?"

"I don't think so." I frown, "Therian hearing doesn't go beyond twenty-thirty steps, at most. Besides, there are solid concrete walls between rooms."

"Okay," Neal says in a lower voice anyway, "I have been talking to Jen aunt..." he says.

"Hmm, yeah?" I say, the menu completely forgotten by now.

"I think...I think she is planning to run away." He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"...O-okay." I stutter at the unforeseen revelation.

"With me." Neal adds.

My eyebrows shoot up towards my hairline, "What the fuck?" Neal hisses, motioning for me to lower my voice. I roll my eyes, "What did she say?" I ask him.

"She didn't exactly say it...but the way she was talking, I just got a hunch." Neal shrugs.

"Why the hell would she try that? Haven't you guys yet got that we are on your side?" I impatiently snap, taking out my prissiness at Neal, "We are not two separate teams." I scowl.

"What the fuck are you raging at me for?" Neal snaps, frowning unhappily at me. "I am sitting here, aren't I?"

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, like you were exactly this compliant a few hours back." I say in sarcasm.

"Hey!" Neal snaps, "Be in my place and then form judgments."

"Funny how that is exactly what your aunt says."

Neal has an unbelievable expression on as he huffs at me. He doesn't say anything though, choosing to avert his eyes towards some other corner. His silence obviously eats at my conscience. It's not like I intended to be rude but Neal hasn't exactly been comfortable with the idea of my family helping him a few hours back, just like his aunt. I just brought the fact to focus.

"Look, Neal-" I start.

"So, what, now I have to prove that I trust your family's allegiance? Weren't we on the same team?" Neal mocks, his voice ending sardonically. "And if you're done with your tantrum then we can focus on Jen aunt instead of me."

His jibe doesn't have the usual flare to it, coming out more tiredly than offensively. That immediately has me on high alert. May be he actually is exhausted, to not be ragingly sarcastic. Or I have just managed to hit a sore spot. The last thought makes me squirm slightly but I nod at him to continue.

"She was talking about some chemical." Neal says, "Something that can mask my aura. Something that can mask anybody's aura, actually. She very strongly believes that the council of your realm won't be kind to us."

I frown, "Jennifer had also said she had instilled Aakir with enough 'repellant' when she had left him in the woods. I was wondering what she meant by that."

"Probably this...whatever this chemical is."

"She didn't say a name?"

"No...she just said that she has something that can suppress our auras."

"Not necessarily a chemical." I point out.

Neal shakes his head, "The way she was talking, it sounded like a fluid. She did use the term 'drinking'."

"And if your auras are suppressed..."

"Then you therians can't catch us."

"Dude...therians cannot catch you even if they would want to." I point out. "Remember what dad said? You can be found only by accident."

"Exactly!" Neal exclaims, "So, the only reason for which she may require this aura-suppressing-chemical would be to make me escape in the first place. Isn't it?"

I am silent for a moment. Yes, if Neal doesn't have his aura radiating off him, he can escape without troubles. It's not like we are keeping him on a leash. And once he is gone, we may never get a drift of his track. Out of everything, I am surprised by how annoyed I feel at the prospect of my partner not radiating his aura because of that stupid-ass chemical.

"I don't like your aunt." I tell him.

Neal sighs and rubs the back of his neck, "I do not find her to be all roses either, Josh."

I frown at his destitute tone. More so at him using my first name.

"How much exactly worn out is your relationship with your aunt?" I ask him.

He rolls his eyes at me, "Are we getting into a heart-to-heart?"

"Don't be sarcastic." I huff at him, "Seriously? Is it that bad?"

Neal suspires, averting his eyes, "I already told you. We are not emotionally bonded or anything. Yeah, she took care of me but by providing material things. She hasn't even been around me since last four years or so. Apparently, a humongous house and enough cash in my account were the only responsibilities she saw."

I shake my head, frowning, "But that doesn't make sense. I am still befuddled that you lived alone. I mean, if Jennifer is so hell bent at keeping you safe, why did she let you put up alone in the first place? In a very remote area of Liepāja, to top off."

"You had yourself pointed out that maybe she didn't want attention directed at us. That she didn't want any risk in case any other therians were keeping track of her."

"Yeah, that's a possibility, of course. A reasonable one, in fact." I say, "But from what you're saying, the contact between the both of you was almost negligible. I don't know, it's just spooky."

"David used to contact though," Neal says, "Not frequently but once in a few months. That's more frequent than Jen aunt contacting me. Maybe he was keeping track of me-"

"Yes, that makes sense. On the contrary, it doesn't make much sense. They are partners, so it's understandable if David kept track of you for Jennifer. But at the same time, any other therian looking on will be assured that they are partners and are working together..." I trail off.

"They are not partners."

I look at Neal who has a set expression on his face, his forehead crunched up in determination.

"What?" I say.

"They are not partners." He repeats, still frowning, "Both of them haven't found their partners. They are friends, have been so since childhood."

I contemplate this, "They are not together romantically?"

"I don't think so..." Neal's frown deepens, "I didn't ask for the gory details." He snaps suddenly, "Jen aunt was anyways reluctant to talk about it. She didn't sound very enthusiastic when I asked about her partner. She doesn't have one, so I guess I can understand her sour stance."

I scoff slightly, "She has a sour personality in totality." I quip childishly.

"She doesn't like you either." Neal reveals.

"Yeah?"

"She thinks you're lying."

I frown, "Lying about what?"

"About me being your partner." Neal says in a careful tone, alertly observing my reaction.

I roll my eyes. "Why would she think that I am lying about having a partner? A male partner at that?"

"That's precisely why she thinks you're lying." Neal sighs, "Jen aunt says that...it's impossible for me to have a male partner."

I frown, "Why?"

Neal awkwardly clears his throat, "She just thinks that you're trying to keep me with you guys...to take advantage of my abilities."

For some reason, I am entirely sure that Neal is not speaking the full truth regarding what Jennifer said for my apparent mendacity. Moreover, this doesn't seem enough fit reason as to why Neal can't have a male partner.

"And?" I ask him. I do not try to grovel and justify that his aunt is wrong in assuming that I will use him for his abilities. Neal is aware of how much I despise his abilities being used for nonchalant things. Also, he knows that I'm aware of him being my partner before being aware of him being the vaticinator.

Besides if he was even slightly in agreement with his aunt then he wouldn't be sitting here.

"That's it." Neal says, innocently blinking at me.

I give him a challenging look, raising my eyebrows at him.

He lets out a puff of breath, pursing his lips together tightly, "She just explained to me this whole 'partner' thing." He acquiesces, immediately turning to look at something else.

Sour personality or not, if it's a female, she is bound to insinuate romance between partners; they be of same gender or not. I can vaguely guess what Jennifer must have told Neal.

"Neal," I start, exasperatedly running a hand down my face, "I didn't lie to you, not about anything, when I explained you the theory of partners."

"I am not saying that you did."

"Yeah, so whatever your aunt is telling you...that's what people conveniently adopt in their lifestyles. If I had a girl for a partner, even I would find it the easiest to marry her than anybody else."

"And now that you have a guy for a partner?"

I give him an 'are you kidding me?' look. He just stares impassively.

"Of course I won't marry you." I snap.

Neal chuckles, "That's not what I meant. I am asking, what now? So, you have a guy for a partner. Now you're not going to get married at all?"

"Of course I will get married." I say, but the slight reluctance in my voice doesn't go amiss. I feel bad for the uncertainty in my voice but I appease myself by reminding that I am not sure as of yet if I am capable of marrying someone else or not.

"You're lying." Neal states.

I sigh, "I am not lying...I am just not sure. I am seventeen, for Christ's sake. I don't sit back and think about marriages."

"You must have thought something. Where do you expect both of us to stand when you get married?"

"I don't know." I shrug, "I must be on the pedestal and I'd like you to be beside Aakir, as my second best man or something."

"I am serious."

"So am I." I tell him. I shake my head in exasperation, "Why the sudden twenty questions? I thought we were done with the awkward talk."

Neal suspires loudly, "Jen aunt says that if you're my partner then it's very well a possibility that my lineage will not stow forward. That I am most probably the last vaticinator. Because she is convinced, that if my partner is a male, then it's highly unlikely, for whatever reasons, for me to have sex with a girl. Hence, no kids and no more vaticinators."

"That's bullshit." I say, entirely taken aback by such absurd theory.

"I am more than happy to agree with you."

"Yeah, okay." I say. It dawns on me why he would be happy to agree with me. Not only it eliminates the impossibility of him having sex with a girl but it also eliminates the possibility of him inclining towards men, sexually. Because not having sexual relations with a female, invariably means that he will be involved with a man. At least in this scenario it implies that. "So, there's nothing to worry about." I say further.

"Hmm." Neal nods, not really paying attention. Then he shakes his head, as if getting rid of a thought, "Jen aunt just had me confused. I mean, if..." he shakes his head again, "Forget it. Anyways, you should just be cautious."

"Of your aunt?" I ask, like it's a bad joke.

Neal gives me a droll look.

I roll my eyes and shift sideways, towards the taboret. "I think you should sleep here tonight." I tell him as I pick up the phone.

Though I am looking at the phone, I am sure Neal is frowning as he says, "You think she'll ask me to escape with her during the night?"

"And if you don't agree," I say, nodding, "then I don't think it'll be tough for her to drag you out without your permission."

"Dude...I am not that weak."

I give him a pointed look but drag my attention towards the phone. When the hotel attendants pick up, I quickly tell them what I would like to eat. With informing them of my room number, I disconnect the call and turn towards Neal.

"She is a therian." I tell him, "She can overpower you. And you won't even realize it." Neal scoffs, so I continue, "I am serious. It was aunt Rufina who had you fainted like a sissy within seconds at your house. I am sure you didn't realize that either."

Neal's eyes widen, "No shit?"

"No shit."

"Well....that's a big hit on the ego." He mutters.

I shake my head at him, "You're a pure human. I told you therians, male or female, are stronger than an average human wrestler. You're no wrestler, even if you're good at fighting. Plus your stature is small too-"

"Oh, please." Neal snorts indignantly.

"What?" I frown at him, "Come on, you're like five foot eight inches or something-"

"I am 5'11"." He snaps, "Just because I am an inch or two shorter than you, doesn't mean I am 'small'." He bristles.

"You're three inches shorter than me." I calculate. Now that I think about it, I do consider Neal shorter than he actually is. In my defense, his loose clothing makes him look lankier and shorter.

"Whatever, Lichinsky."

"It doesn't change the fact that a therian is stronger than you. As I said, it took hardly five seconds for Rufina aunt to have you putty in her hands."

Neal frowns, "I was wondering how did you guys brought me to your place. I didn't remember much of fainting."

"You weren't in the most talkative mood when you woke up. Else, I am sure my family would have informed you."

Neal laughs humorlessly, "It's not every day I am accosted by an alienated person, who is much convinced of the authority he disposes on me."

I squint at him, "How the hell did Ethan even manage to be inside your house?" I ask incredulously. "You should have known better than to let him in."

"I didn't know I was the red riding hood." He says dryly, "Plus, he was being all civil; approaching me and talking politely as my friend's uncle. He even apologized for his earlier behavior." Neal shrugs, "So I let him in, warily though, but I did. Then he started asking all bizarre questions, making me excuse myself and call you. He wasn't offensive till I called you."

"Ah, well. He is history now; for the time being at least." I say, "As I was saying, you should sleep here tonight. Lest your aunt pulls some trick."

"But if I sleep in your room, Jen aunt will know for sure that I don't trust her. She'll be assured that I have you informed of everything."

"Yeah, so?"

Neal opens his mouth to reply but then closes it back as nothing comes to him.

"She is antagonizing at our backs. We may antagonize too, but not at anyone's back." I say.

Neal sighs, "Whatever." He mutters. "I will not sleep on the floor." He declares, glaring at me from the corner of his eye.

I roll my eyes, "I'll see if we can have an extra mattress or something."

While I busy myself on the hotel phone, Neal excuses himself to go to the washroom. There is a knock on our door when Neal reemerges. He looks at me apprehensively. I sense one therian and two human auras outside the door. I nod at Neal and he goes to open the door. Aakir enters, towing a sad Silvia with him. The hotel attendant is here with my food too. Aakir gives him a tip while the attendant asks for the time when he shall bring an extra mattress. I tell him he can get it now. The room we are in is not small, but with four people, it is not exactly humongous. Aakir and Neal both gush over Silvia, making her sit on the bed and asking if she needs anything. I simply smile at her and start devouring my food. I am starving.

"I saw a therian downstairs." Aakir informs when Silvia is comfortably settled on his bed. I am not sure why Silvia is here. Is she going to stay the night here too? I highly doubt that.

"I thought dad said there are no therians in this part." I say.

Aakir shrugs, "It was just one. He didn't even react when I passed him by."

Both Aakir and Neal are awkwardly standing at the middle of the room while I am sitting on my bed and Silvia is sitting on Aakir's. An uncomfortable silence emerges. Not so uncomfortable for me, as I have my tray of food to distract me. Silvia seems oblivious too, unseeingly staring at the foot of the bed. Aakir seems reluctant in joining her. Neal just looks lost. He must be probably wondering the same thing, if Silvia is going to stay the night in our room or not. Our room is not enough big for four people. Especially not if one of them is a girl.

"Um," Neal starts when the tense silence becomes too tangible. He points behind him towards the door, "I am going to go..." he trails off.

"Were you two not done talking?" Aakir asks, interrupting Neal. He must think the awkwardness to be the result of an incomplete conversation.

"Nah, we were done." Neal says offhandedly, "I am just..." he again points at the door while catching my eye.

I swallow before speaking, "What for?" I ask him.

Neal raises his eyebrows, his eyes discreetly moving towards Silvia. I look at Silvia too, "Are you going to stay the night in our room?" I ask her bluntly.

She frowns, "No." she says quietly.

I look back at Neal, my brows raised. He discreetly rolls his eyes, "I am going to get changed...and get my stuff." He says, moving backwards.

"Let me finish." I tell him, "I'll accompany you."

"...there's no need."

"Just two minutes." I say to him, increasing my speed.

Neal scoffs, "I think I can manage to bring my luggage."

I glare at him, effectively conveying that he shouldn't be meeting his aunt alone. Neal gets the message. But he simply huffs and leans on the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"...okay." Aakir says, who is emotionlessly taking in our talks. Or lack of enunciated talk, thereof.

Aakir's impassive reaction towards my partner and I has me wondering how different my equation with Neal has come to be. We are no longer mere acquaintances. May be it is due to the circumstances but I am still someone whom Neal feels confident enough to confide in. There are uncomfortable moments but even those somehow make me feel good; because I am aware that even this level of awkwardness is achieved only and only because I worry about my rapport with him and hopefully he worries about the same. Else we may not even risk facing such kind of tensed environment. We risk it because somewhere in our subconscious mind we know that a much precious thing is at stake, even if it is simple friendship. Aakir is still standing here for his partner, even if the latter is being nothing but a headache with her constant depression. Silvia, though not here on her own volition, is still sitting through her depressed stance, so to just wait for that valuable moment that will make it all seem worthwhile. Neal and I may be awkwardly inept during our every conversation but I know and believe that even Neal knows that this uncomfortable phase will definitely bloom into an everlasting friendship for us. The friendship, where if I perchance do marry someone, Neal must be right there behind me, standing at his rightful spot beside Aakir.

It all does feel worthwhile, in a twisted way.

  16. Tussling Words And Aiming Birds

"Yeah, man," I hear Neal say, "it's kickass, knowing I need a bodyguard to traverse through a corridor." He chuckles.

"Ahan," Aakir snorts, "not only that but you have a full time bodyguard assigned to you for your astral form."

"Sounds like one of those cheap movies." Rahul adds, snickering.

The three of them chuckle sardonically and continue to pass offhanded comments about how 'hilarious' our serious situation is in the parallel world. My partner is laughing and contributing his own witty comments, boasting in jest how important he is to have everybody gushing at him at all times. Aakir and Rahul are laughing over Neal's wittily humorous comments but I am aware of how much sarcastic Neal is actually being with his words. He was not happy last night as he had sulkily allowed me to accompany him to his aunt's room. With an exchange of bitter words, I had assumed we are done with our bitchiness for the day. But come morning, and my partner has only monosyllable replies to my every question.

He doesn't even think of cutting me slack, considering he slept in my bed yesterday while I slept on the floor. But then I realize that there is nothing to cut slack over. I have done nothing wrong. I am being cautious with Neal. If he doesn't like it, well, too bad, because he'll just have to suck up to it. He needs to understand that he is just a plain pure human at the end of the day while everyone around him is capable of snapping his neck within seconds. Despite knowing the vulnerability he disposes, he still wishes to have free reign over his actions, to have free liberty as to where he can hang about. Life gets tougher when you have a stubborn, arrogant bullhead for a partner.

I am sitting next to mother in the SUV that arrived for us in the morning. She is anxious, yet giddy to be back in her home city. I see the driver taking much secluded routes towards the head council office where we are headed. The driver is a human but has been sent by the members of the head council. Father had informed us of it by a call and on his instructions, we are now settled in for an hour long ride to the colony where the head council is.

Jennifer, who is officially in a stare war with me whenever we happen to meet eyes, is sitting next to Rufina aunt. Her expressions last night when Neal and I had gone to her room to collect Neal's luggage were enough to convey the understanding. Understanding, that she accepts that Neal trusts me more than her. But that doesn't mean she is happy about it. She has been giving me the glares since morning. My returning stares are not placid ones. I have clearly expressed that if she takes one more negative step, the elders of my house will know of her infidelity. Then she can handle the situation on her own.

I am mute through the journey. Jennifer and Silvia mirror my stance. While the rest are quite casual in their demeanor, as if we are just going out for an ice cream. The sequestered roads are soon gone and our car swerves towards the main roads of the city. The whole route, though secluded, is vastly flowing through the heart of the city. Once in a while I will catch site of Yenisei River, also crossing the famous river port of Krasnoyarsk at one point. The stretch is not overtly crowded, but more than once I end up sensing therian auras, some walking, some driving. It makes me wonder if they can sense the over powering aura of Neal that has practically drowned the aura of most of us sitting in the car. The thought has me slightly paranoid.

We leave the crowded city roads and enter one of the residential areas. On continuing along the now almost abandoned road, we reach a site that I have not been at all anticipating. Gone are the big buildings of the city and the noisiness of the motor vehicles. This part of the city is much greener, almost looking like a country side.A lone road with greenery around gives way to what I can see as rows and rows of houses in the distance. But these are not the regular houses that I have been witnessing in the city. These are much different with good amounts of greenness around them. There is a metallic automated gate prior to our journey towards those houses. The driver stops, takes out a thin card from his breast pocket and swipes it in the card holder machine next to the gates. The gates come to life, clanging loudly as they slide open for us to pass through.

There is plenty of greenery. Not the wildlife type green, but the stepford wife's kind of green. There are rows of identical houses on either side of the street road, each with a slanting roof and a pretty chimney. Yards of green pasture extends in front of each house, most of which are intricately developed into gardens. Often, I spot a few people walking by, or some ladies gossiping in the corner. Many of them are therians, but many are humans too. Some of them look at our car curiously as we pass them by, making me panic in my mind when I think of my partner's aura.

Our destination is a bungalow that seems to be situated at the edge of this colony. Actually, it's a mansion. It is much bigger than those houses with a much bigger front yard bordered by black metal fence that stretches beyond and up to the huge main gates of the mansion. It also expresses a generous drop off way. Built in white concrete, it looks like a parliament house more than anything. Numerous pillars support the roof of the overextended porch. The latter leads to a humongous mahogany door, which is open at the moment. I feel nervous just looking at it. There are no guards at the gates. There is a similar card swiping machine at the edge and our driver, Roger, swipes the card making the gates of the mansion come to life. We drive inside, onto the drive way. Slowly, our car comes to a stop right in front of the steps that lead to the door. Grudgingly, we start stepping out of the car. Well, now that I notice my peers, only I seem to be reluctant about my movements. My mother is literally bouncing on her feet, making her curls follow her lead too. No sooner than we all start stretching our backs, father emerges from the huge doors, traversing downwards towards us.

"The drive was okay?" he asks, patting my shoulder. I nod at him and he moves off towards his wife. I help the others in taking out the luggage and our herd is soon crossing the threshold towards the inside of the 'house'.

The inside is exactly as I expected it to be. I am greeted by the site of a voluminous foyer, the far end of which is adorned by several royal looking sofas. But we are not directed towards it. Father instead makes us turn right and starts leading us towards the hallway that seems to end in numerous rooms on either side. I sense no presence inside the rooms. I can also see a staircase in the far distance. On concentrating, I can sense very faint auras at various distances inside the mansion, mostly on the above floors. Before we can traverse the path towards the stairs, a lady exits from one of the...corners? I focus and notice there are several sub hallways emitting from the main vestibule. Makes me wonder how exactly big this place is. The woman, a pure human, approaches us, a tearful smile on her face. She is aged, with grey hair streaks almost blending with her golden hair. Several wrinkles form as her exuberant smile continues to widen with her every step. Despite her age, the woman is adroit in her movements, fluidly traversing the path towards us. We all uncertainly pause. Well, all except for my mother. She drops the duffel bag she had been holding and walks towards the lady with the giddiness she has been exhibiting since morning.

Without words, both the women engulf each other in an impactful hug. The elderly lady has her eyes closed, a smile on her lips as she holds my mother tightly. Dubiously, I look at my father who has chosen to stand aside. The elderly woman opens her now rheumy eyes and finds Rufina aunt standing right behind my mother. Without another word, she engulfs Rufina aunt in a hug too, without letting go of my mother. I awkwardly look around and notice that everyone is also finding something else to get them busy with.

After an eon, the women break apart and to my utter discomfort, all of them are weeping yet managing to smile hugely at the same time. The elderly woman smacks two sloppy kisses on both my mother and aunt Rufina. The kisses seem oddly familiar, making me frown.

I feel my stomach dropping to an endless pit as my happy mother turns to look at us, her eyes finding mine. I am petrified on my spot as I comprehend what I am seeing. My mother takes steps towards us, dragging the elderly woman and aunt Rufina with her, all three of them happily crying.

"This is Josh." My mother introduces happily, grasping me from the elbow as she reaches me. "My son." She announces proudly, "And this is Aakir," she rubs Aakir's upper arm who is standing right next to me, "Rufina's son."

I am so shocked with the revelation in my mind, that I do not even pause to consider how Jennifer is taking Aakir being addressed as Rufina aunt's son.

The elderly woman steps forward, still smiling with tears flowing down her cheeks. "Come here boys." She says, her voice raspy. Aakir has no problem in kindly smiling to the woman and stepping forward. However, my forward step is reluctantand results all because of the push my mother gives me. My thoughts in a jumble, I realize a little late that the elderly woman is engulfing both of us in a hug. She smells like flowers, oddly like the ones from which my mother creates perfume in our family shop back in Latvia. The odor hardly eases me. I remain still as a statue, almost like a stiff rod. When she lets us go, she kisses our cheeks in the same fashion in which she kissed my mother and aunt Rufina. In the same fashion my mother always kisses me. I fail to respond to her gestures.

"You boys are men now. You both do not know of me." she says, still smiling and looking from Aakir to me, "So, I'll introduce myself." Her smile widens, "My name is Erisna. I am your grandmother."

Aakir slightly chuckles, "Figured that out." he says.

"Oh, wait till you have to pick your grandfather." Erisna chuckles playfully, her laughter much like that of my mother's, "You wouldn't recognize him so easily."

As the rest chuckle, I remain stoic. Honestly, I do not know how to respond to this situation. Erisna's eyes dart towards behind Aakir. And she joyfully exclaims, "Is that Terry's daughter?" she asks, looking at Faith. And the introduction continues. I slip a little sideways, away from the bunch and end up leaning against the wall. I watch as father patiently introduces to the non-family members. She is normal and polite with Jennifer. With Rahul, Silvia and Neal though, who are introduced as our partners, she is as enthusiastic as she is with Aakir, I and Faith. She coddles each of them, earning appreciative chuckles and smiles from them. Neal looks potentially embarrassed when she pinches his cheeks. But he manages to grin politely in return. He catches my eye. I do not know what he sees on my face but whatever he sees makes his grin diminish significantly. I avert my eyes.

Erisna leads us towards the row of rooms. She looks exultant, occasionally caressing her daughter's cheeks. The kids are allotted rooms. Not for permanent residence. The boys are given one ridiculously large room while Silvia and Faith are given a different room. We are asked to wait and get fresh as our elders drop of their luggage and get ready to meet other people. We kids are to remain behind. Before leaving with the rest, my father gestures for me to come outside. I walk out in the hallway where my father pauses.

"Lock the door from the inside." He tells me, "And whatever happens, do not let Neal leave this room. And do not open the room for anybody other than us. Alright?"

Frowning, I nod at him.

"There is water and some fruits inside the room itself. We shouldn't take long." With that, he pats my shoulder and turns away to leave.

"Dad?" I call him, making him turn and give me a questioning look. I hesitate but then the words eventually spill out of my mouth, "Are your parents alive too?"

Father's shoulders sag at my question. Now he has noticed my disappointment in case he had failed to notice it a few minutes back. He appraises me for a moment then he nods, almost in reluctance, "My father is well and alive."

"Mikhail Lichinsky?" I confirm, the name of my grandfather that I had thought was dead etched in my memory.

"Mikhail Lichinsky." Father acquiesces. I do not say anything as we stare for a long moment. He hesitates but finally says, "If you will know our plight, you will know why we deem it best for you to be ignorant."

"But I do not know your plight." I say emotionlessly though I am sure my father manages to sense the tons of disappointment I have filled in that single sentence. Without listening to his response, I turn around and enter the room, locking it behind me.

Aakir is standing in the middle of the room, looking at me as I enter. He has heard of my accusation towards my father. I ignore his stare and look at the other two guys. Rahul is sitting at the edge of the bed, looking solemn for once. Neal is peering outside the huge window, probably looking at the huge garden outside. He turns around as soon as he senses my entry.

"What happened?" Neal asks me.

I share a look with Aakir and turn back at Neal, "You're not supposed to leave the room." I tell him quietly.

Neal huffs inaudibly, "Thought we were here so I do not have to stay as a prisoner." He mutters.

"Don't forget that we are stuck with you too." I return in a much harsher tone than I was intending. I briefly close my eyes, trying to calm myself. The day is starting to take its toll on me. Specifically the knowledge that people whom I thought dead are alive and right in this mansion is not at all settling well with me. I feel almost betrayed, as if my father thought me to be insignificant to not be aware of the existence of my own grandparents.

"And remember that I don't ask you to." Neal replies in a hard tone.

I look at Neal only to find him giving me a hard glare. With my distressed thoughts, having a verbal slap is something I do not want at all. His glare only makes me return one of my own even more fervently, "Why the fuck do you always make us look like the bad guys?" I snap harshly.

"Josh." Aakir warns.

"Maybe because you treat me like an incompetent." Neal snaps back, "Like I am nothing more than a fragile pup of yours."

"That's rich coming from you when we are the ones groveling at your feet." I angrily reply.

"Really?" Neal scoffs, "From what I have been noticing, you are always insistent on ordering me around."

"Guys calm down." Aakir says.

"For your own benefit." I snap at Neal, "You think I like following you like a lost puppy?"

"Yeah, I know how much compulsion you're under." Neal sneers, "No need to rub it in my face."

"Jesus, guys." Aakir snaps but we still ignore him.

I continue with my rant, "So, maybe you should start listening to us. Not only will that tame the tension due to my compulsion-"

"You better just give it up." Neal quips.

"-but also because my 'orders' make fucking more sense-"

"Because fuck I know how much I hate you being the boss of me."

"-than your stupid stubborn antics!"

"I am being stubborn? What about you being my dad all the time?"

"At least that keeps you freaking safe."

"More like on a leash! What would be the damn difference if I just go away with Jen aunt? She wouldn't treat me any differently."

"Then next time, grab the chance of running away if my demeanor bothers you so much!"

"Oh, I will definitely consider." Neal snaps, "Much better than listening to your temper tantrums."

"You're the one who has a problem with every fucking 'order' I giveand I am the fuckhead throwing temper tantrums?" I yell at him.

"At least I do not take out my anger regarding my family on others!"

"You don't have a family!"

The next thing I know, a harsh force collides with my chest and I end up banging my back against the door behind me, making it clang noisily. Aakir is giving me a harsh glare, his hand forceful against my chest, keeping me at bay. But his hateful glare is not required. The silence that commences after my last remark is deafening. I look at Neal who is still standing near the window. He doesn't look angry anymore. In fact he looks nothing. His face displays no emotion as he simply stares at me. And I realize how much of a big sore spot I have hit on. After conforming in my mind that I have spoken wrongly, my anger just flares up more as if I cannot believe that I can act so childishly. Only because I am having a bad day.

Aakir lets go of me. I say nothing neither do I move an inch. I am suddenly engulfed with such hatred for the situation I am in. I don't want to be here. I don't want to fight or pass insolent comments. I don't want to know what all about my parents have been lying to me. I do not want to know how much a danger my partner is in or how ireful I am regarding his behavior. I feel stretched to the maximum point, as if a small stimulus will make me burst like a suppressed volcano. I need to cool down, my panic thoughts convey. I need to chill out, maybe-

"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" Aakir breaks in my reverie. He gives a disappointed look to Neal and then turns his disappointment at me, "I didn't even know partners could fight." He snaps at me, glaring in a reprimanding manner.

That is it for me.

"You should fucking stop doing this." I snap, my voice coming out much, much bitter.

Aakir's stare hardens at my tone, "Stop what?"

"This." I irately wave my hand at him, "Stop comparing me with you! Stop comparing my situation with yours. You do not have a fucking GUY for a partner!"

With that, I turn around and hastily snatch the door open. With a loud noise that echoes in the hallway, I clang shut the door behind me as I move out. I find myself aimlessly walking through the hallway. Before I know it, I am walking out of the huge mahogany doors which seem to remain open at all times. I walk out on the porch and pause at the steps. For a few moments I only concentrate on my heavy breathing, trying to reign in my harsh thoughts. After five minutes of only concentrating on my breathing, I sit down on the front steps, my posture immediately slacking. I notice that this mansion, despite its size, seems mostly vacant. Of course my parents and my aunt and uncle are somewhere inside, talking with my grandparents, I think bitterly. That thought is only making me more infuriated. Through the angry faze, I marvel if this huge mansion belongs to my grandparents. If my grandparents formed the council of this realm? If Mikhail Lichinsky is still the leader of this realm?

The houses beyond the gates of the mansion are normal, homely houses. If I concentrate hard enough, I can even see and sense some of the people moving about in the street. But mostly it is not overtly crowded, owing to the time, I suppose. It is going to be noon. People must be working or doing whatever shit they do at noon on weekdays. And here I am, wallowing in my own thoughts.

After spending about fifteen minutes on the porch, my anger starts fading. Neal is right. I have basically taken out my anger due to my family upon him. Neal was being his usual sarcastic self, nothing different there. He has anyways been a little ticked with me since last night. I cannot help but notice how much negativity I have expressed regarding my partner within all of two-three minutes. It's not like Neal's stubborn behavior bothers me much. It certainly doesn't bother me as much as I have expressed to him. I can't help but ponder over what he must be thinking.

After another ten minutes, I feel the tamed form of the pleasant vivacity that is disposed by my partner. I frown and look behind me at the doors. I hear the dull thuds of the steps that are traversing towards me. I suspire. I should have known Neal will come for me sooner or later. He isn't supposed to be out of the room. The full blast of his aura hits me when he escapes the inside and moves outtowards the porch. Still sitting on the steps and frowning, I turn to look back at him. He is stoic as he walks and cavalierly dumps his ass next to me. I let a minute pass by in silence, simply reveling in his aura. His aura feels much soothing when he is not talking, I notice. Or I am just too revved up that even fleeting sensation of his aura feel assuasive to me.

"You're not supposed to be out of the room." I say quietly, after some time in silence.

I feel Neal turning his face to look at me. I turn towards him too. He is having an unbelievable expression on his face like he cannot believe that even now I am 'ordering' him around.

"Calm your tits, Lichinsky." He says. His tone is not harsh, just plain. "I have taken permission from your daddy." Now he is being sarcastic.

"Seriously-"

"Seriously." Neal interrupts me. He sighs, "Everyone's asked to come upstairs. I think it's the finale meeting. Your father was quite normal when I volunteered to get you." He taunts.

"He is always normal." I couldn't help but be slightly sarcastic. Father is always normal, no doubt about that. Even if he may have been reluctant about Neal coming to find me then also his 'normalness' must have expressed nothing out of the place. Just like it has been fooling me in the past seventeen years.

"You're fucking annoying when you're prissy." Neal says and gets up, "Come on, they must be waiting."

I sigh and get up. Together we traverse the length of the hallway towards the end where the staircase commences. Once or twice Neal grumbles under his breath about how much freaking huge this house is. We do not talk about our fight. In fact, Neal is acting like his usual self. I take a sharp breath in and force myself to suck it up. No point in wallowing in the raging thoughts and no point at all in being a stuck up priss like some bitchy girl. Besides, Neal's aura is pleasantly wafting around me. I only focus on his aura as we walk upstairs together. It fairly calms me.

The mansion has only two floors, much to my surprise. But I suppose the massive girth makes up for it. The first floor is identical to the ground floor. Same hallway, same sub hallways and same rooms in the hallways and sub hallways. The whole mansion is the combination of an extra-large living room cum foyer space, flanked by series of hallways on either side. We are approaching the similar space on the first floor through the never ending hallways. Yet the nearer we move, the more I can make out the distinctive voices and the auras. The hallway opens up to an extravagant 'room' which is actually just a huge hall divided into two sections by only two steps in the center. A royal maroon rug flushes the floor, matching the imperial look of the first section and with numerous comfortable and plush looking couches spread on the acreage. It also matches with the official vista offered by the second section. It consists of a very large conference table, built in an equally expensive looking oak. There are chairs on only one side of the table, making it look more like a pedestal. Numerous comfortable chairs are scattered in the front, making the whole get up actually resemble a conference event with the ones on the oak table being the representatives.

A hoard of people is already cowering in the area. My familyis evenly scattered in the audience region. My grandmother, whom I didn't know before this day, is also sitting on one of the chairs next to Rufina aunt. My mother is however sitting next to an elderly man. I can safely guess that he might be my grandfather.

On the oak table there are total of thirteen chairs with thirteen people, more or less, being the ones new to me as well. Some of them are engaged in a discussion with someone next to them. One of them is talking to my father. Two of them seem to have abandoned their chairs and are looking outside through the panoramic windows behind the table, with their backs to the whole conference area. The rest are solemnly sitting, contemplating in their heads. Yet, the hall is echoing with noisiness with everyone engaged in harsh whispers; occasionally some of them talking loudly.

When Neal and I enter, most of the people cease their talking and look at us. Or at Neal to be specific. Our steps start echoing when the silence becomes prominent. I quickly notice that Faith and Silvia are not present. The rest of us are however haphazardly spread across the room. Father motions for us to take chairs next to him, right in front of the oak table. Aakir and Rahul are also sitting next to him.

"This is my son, Josh." My father introduces as we sit down. His voice sounds thunderous in the sudden silence. "And that's his partner, Neal Stephens."

Neal and I give minute nods at the people in front of us. Eleven people are sitting while two are near the window at the back. The ones at the window are as much paying attention to us as the others. Most seem middle aged, with only four elder people.

"Welcome. We're the head council for the Ninth Realm of Therians. I'm Anastasia Ludwig, one of the members." A middle aged brunette womansitting slightly off the middle says in greeting, smiling at us. She has a thick Russian accent, something I rarely get to encounter in Latvia. I am assuming she is talking in English because Neal doesn't know Russian.She then trains her eyes at Neal, "It's an honor to meet you, Neal."

"Uh..." Neal starts awkwardly, "Thanks...I guess."

The rest are however still gawking at Neal as if he is an alienated species that has been introduced in the zoo. From the corner of my eye I notice Neal getting fidgety but I am assured he wears a calm expression, like he usually does. My eyes roam about the council members. My eyes stop at one elder person who is sitting in the middle. Grey hair is oddly matched with an athletic built. His taut jaw seems to be complimenting his dark eyes, making him look younger than he already is. What made me stop and observe him is that unlike the other council members he is not looking at Neal. He is looking at me, staring unfalteringly. Ineptly, I look away.

The man sitting next to Anastasia clears his throat and leans forward, "I would like to brief out our discussion regarding you, Neal." He says, "We all have been having quite a bit of contradictions. Many of us did not even believe Mr. Lichinsky," the man humorlessly smirks at my father, "but watching you in flesh has cleared much of our doubts. Now...I want to make it clear to everybody present," he looks around to room at everyone, just to prove his point, "That despite whatever favor Mr. Lichinsky may ask us of, it is no issue of debate that Mr. Neal here definitely belongs to the First Realm."

Incoherent chatter bursts at his announcement, even amongst the council members.

"He does?" my father asks loudly, a slight edge to his voice.

"Yes, Mr. Lichinsky. Let me complete." The man continues, "However, in the light of the put forth allegations by the protector's family and Mr. Lichinsky's family, both of whom are connected with Neal, it is obvious that none of you seek to be amongst the First Occultist's cult." The man pauses for effect, letting the information sink. "We may provide the amount of help that we seem fit, simply because we do not turn people away from our doorsteps. You should however know," he says while looking at Neal, "that we cannot promise you protection, not until we have consent of at least ninety percent population of our realm. Even if we achieve that,-"

"We will not." A throaty voice interrupts. It's one of the men who are standing at the windows. He looks thoroughly displeased for whatever reason. He also seems to be the oldest in here.

"If we do," the man stresses, turning slightly to glare at the interrupter, "then also we do not offer a win for our situation." He turns back to Neal, "The occultists rule us. We can rebel against them for you but winning over them is highly unlikely."

"But not impossible." My father says.

The man sighs, "Mr. Lichinsky...you dream big and I appreciate that. But I will let you know that I will not risk our realm for a single person, even if he is an important entity." He waves a hand at Neal, "And it is true that he is not your property to begin with."

"He is not anyone's property. He is not even a 'property'. Why don't you just admit that you're scared to face the First Realm?" father asks, looking absolutely impassive.

The man grits his teeth in obvious distaste, "I wouldn't deny." He admits.

"And because of that you're ready to sacrifice a member of the family that belongs to your realm? What happened to your ethics? The last I remember, our realm never hesitated in standing against our Occultist if one of us was threatened illegitimately."

"You've no entitlement to speak in regard of our rules, Nikolai." The man says, his voice devoid of emotion. "Not anymore."

There is a stretching silence. Then my father speaks, "Am I no more considered a part of this realm?" his voice stoic, as it usually is. I still manage to sense the threat in his question.

"You should have asked yourself that when you left your people behind."

"I have committed no treason for you to not consider me a part of this realm." Father thunders. "I walked out of my own volition."

"Leaving your father behind to suffer." The man idly waves his hand towards the people sitting on his left side, "Let me summon the Ninth Occultist. Let's see how well you can justify yourself then."

"Gentlemen," Anastasia interrupts, her voice authoritative, "Please be civil."

My father and the man continue a glaring match for a few moments. Then my father turns towards Anastasia, "I wish to listen to the opinion of the other council members, Ana." Father asks politely, "Surely, Pleve's opinion alone doesn't matter."

Pleve, the man, inaudibly snorts but chooses to remain silent.

"Of course," Anastasia says, "We'll take a vote. Dr. Pleve was only supposed to bring the situation to light, not declare a conclusion."

"Oh?" Pleve glares sideways at Anastasia.

"Yes." Anastasia snaps. "We'll deal with this case in an orderly fashion, Pleve. You're letting your opinions hinder the procedure."

Pleve snorts, an unbelievable expression on his face.It is easy to make out that he is thoroughly displeased at being dismissed like this.

"If anyone thinks it's perfectly fine for Dr. Pleve to derive a conclusion over the matter, without proper proceedings, then raise your hand. If in majority, we'll go with it." Anastasia says confidently, her tone challenging as she looks at her fellow council members.

Only a single, old man raises his hand. The rest do not. I don't think it has much to do with Pleve's 'decision' as much it has to do with 'Pleve'.

Pleve scoffs, "Go on." He says to Anastasia, as if sure the conclusion will still be the same.

"We will definitely take a vote-" Anastasia continues.

"A vote, what for?" the man standing at the window speaks again, the one who had raised the hand, interrupting Anastasia, "I do not think any of us think differently than Dr. Pleve. They all just do not want Pleve to solely state the end result."

Everybody looks with displeasure at the old man, not liking the honesty that comes with age, perhaps.

"I still demand a vote." My father says, glaring at the man.

"And you shall get one." Anastasia says, ignoring the man at the window.

"This is ridiculous." The man at the window quips in his throaty voice.

"Ser Daeve," Anastasia says, turning to look at the man, "We have to do it by rules." She stresses.

"Do we?" Ser Daeve snaps.

Anastasia turns forward and ignores the man much like a teenager may ignore a nonsensically speaking oldie. "First we vote for the membership." Anastasia announces loudly. "Let's begin the vote by the council. Vote in favor if you consider the vaticinator to be a part of this realm. I shall begin. I consider Neal a part of our realm." Anastasia declares. She looks upon the edge of the table, urging the last person to speak up his opinion.

"Is that even a point of debate?" Ser Daeve snaps.

"I do not consider Neal to be a part of this realm." Dr. Pleve says before the person in the corner could speak.

"Of course, he is not." Ser Daeve thunders, making my father sigh restlessly next to me, "there is no authenticity for even Lichinsky's son, the question of Lichinsky's grandson's partner is out of the topic." I realize that he referring to my grandfather as he says 'Lichinsky'. He continues, "And even if we ignore Lichinsky's son's infidelity then also there is no proof that the boy is being truthful about his association with the vaticinator." Much to my offense, Ser Daeve is looking at me as he says the last sentence.

"Excuse me?" I say, thoroughly ticked off at this old man insinuating that I am lying about Neal being my partner.

"Josh, don't." father warns me, giving me a fleeting sideways glance.

"Oh, I'll excuse you, boy." Ser Daeve says, looking at me, "Everybody knows how highly unlikely it is for the vaticinator to have a male partner."

I am stumped by this. It is the second time I am hearing this and I do not understand why people would blindly believe this.

Neal chuckles humorlessly next to me, "I do not know why I keep hearing this." He mutters, mirroring my thoughts.

"Because it's the blatant truth." Ser Daeve says, his voice surprisingly much polite as he talks with Neal, "Vaticinator mating with a male," he disgustedly continues, "invariably means no child for you, son."

I feel my ears bursting into flames at the implication. Why does everyone believe that partners are bound to be engaged in a sexual relation? Despite knowing that theory doesn't necessitate that.

"Is that so?" Neal mutters, dazedly looking at Ser Daeve. I seriously hope he is not being doubtful again. I am going to flip a switch if he does.

"Of course. The vaticinator's legacy is to continue indefinitely. You do not have the senses to recognize your partner." Ser Daeve continues, "But you should know that being with a male is by no means a natural disposition to have a legacy in future."

A silent moment ensues, making me angrily clench my fist. I wish my father had not restricted me from speaking because I really desire to retort in colorful words that I am no liar. I may also love to add how much of a prick this old man is to turn my own partner against me. The next words that are spoken, however, take me by complete surprise.

"I didn't know therians could be homophobic. That too in a freaking realm."

The wonderment amusement accompanying Neal's sentence ensues a much longer moment of silence. When nobody speaks, even Ser Daeve only managing to watch Neal agape, Neal continues, "I thought homosexual couples are common in a realm."

"They are." Anastasia manages to reply, a small understanding smile on her lips.

"So, I don't expect homophobes to be common." Neal says, looking at Ser Daeve, "or maybe it's the orthodox thinking that is common in old age."

"The realms are known to be orthodox." My father says, looking at Neal. "That was one of the reasons why I left the realm in the first place." He turns to look challengingly at the council members, almost daring any of them to contradict him. "But," father continues, "No realm ostracizes their member simply because the member decided to not stay in the realm anymore. It's a free choice for us to stay wherever we want to. I will not take my two decade absence as the reason why my son and his partner will not be considered a part of this realm; neither will I take your presumptuous reasons behind my absence to affect the membership of my family. As to my son having the vaticinator as the partner," father looks specifically at Ser Daeve, "I will not, henceforth, tolerate anybody calling my son a liar or anybody threatening his rapport with his partner." He pauses for a moment, again, silently daring anyone to contradict him. Father looks at Anastasia. "We will hear the rest of the votes."

Ser Daeve is glaring at Neal but says nothing, settling to express his disappointment only through his glares. Anastasia clears her throat, "We have one in favor vote and two negative votes yet. Again, it is for the consideration of Neal as a member of our realm." She silently looks at the corner of the table, prodding the man at the edge to speak.

The middle aged man sits straight and clears his throat, "I accept the vaticinator as the member of the Ninth Realm by his association with Mr. Lichinsky's grandson."

Next is a young woman, almost as young as Jennifer, "I vote for Neal to be a part of our realm."

"I consider the vaticinator to be a part of this realm, owing to his association with the Lichinsky family, both with his partner and his protector."

"The vaticinator belongs to the First Realm, irrespective of his associations with anyone from any other realm."

"The vaticinator serves for the wellbeing of all the therians through the world." An elderly woman speaks, "He serves to assure no impending danger to our world. He belongs to no realm in specific. However, if he wishes to belong to the Ninth Realm because of his association as a partner with one of the members of the said realm then he shall be accepted."

Out of all the votes, the last one makes more sense to me than anything I have heard since I am here.

"I agree with lady Fatima." The next man says in a deep, sober voice, looking at the elderly woman, "If the vaticinator seeks belongingness, then he shall receive it."

"I accept the vaticinator as the member of the Ninth Realm only if the Occultists allow it."

"I'll consider that a negative." Anastasia says.

"Accepting the vaticinator comes with rebelling against the Occultists. I do not stand by that, hence, I do not accept him as the member of our realm."

"I accept Neal as the member of our realm."

"Okay." Anastasia says, "That is seven in favor, and five negatives." She smiles. I notice that they have skipped one person. The same elderly person that I had noticed. The one who was looking at me. The man is staring at the table in front of him, a pondering look over his face. "Now, the question of his membership is clear." Anastasia continues, Dr. Pleve looking disgruntled beside her, "So, it is of no question that our realm will offer whatever possible help we can. That's the motto we follow. To stick by and protect our fellow people, provided they are in the right. But you," she looks at us, "do not only seek belongingness. You also seek support to stand against the First Realm and their Occultist. For that, we will judicially consider your case as we do with all the members of our realm. As Dr. Pleve has brought to notice before, we shall still be seeking the opinion of the common folk. A judiciary get together shall be held with the folks of this division and the head members of the other divisions in two days' time at the field behind our headquarters. The situation shall be brought to their notice with emphasizing on Neal as being one of us. Depending on the biometric votes, you all shall then know if the common folk are ready to stand by your side or not." She pauses to look at us, "You will need the mass at your side if you wish to stand against the First realm and the Occultists. Once they swear their fealty, you can be assured that they all will stick by your side till the end of time. We will know their decision within a month, commencing after our announcement in two days. The process will actually begin with the receipt of their votes that shall be arranged within a week's time. Till then, the vaticinator will have as much privileges as any other member of our realm. Any questions?"

The elders in my family raise no question so I immediately suppress mine.

Anastasia nods and looks at Erisna, my grandmother, "Erisna, I am assuming you're taking the responsibility of showing their rooms that they will be put up in."

"I will, do not worry about it."

Anastasia nods, and looks back at us, somehow looking happy at the turn of events, "Feel welcomed." She says,"You're a part of this huge family now."

  17. Welcome To My Family

"You've got to be kidding." I hear Neal's voice.

I lazily lift my head to see what has him whining only to catch him fretting over a suit package. I frown, then sigh and then eventually increase the volume of my iPod and settle back more comfortably on the bouncy mattress. For reasons we didn't fret over, Neal and I are given a single room. With two different queen sized beds of course. The several rooms in this mansion are meant for the guests from other realms. Nobody really lives in the mansion except for three of the council members who sway between their own houses and the guest rooms of the mansion. I don't blame them. The guest rooms are strikingly comfortable, if ungodly expensive looking. Our own room is quite big, enough big for me to feel lazy to get up and open the door of our room, if someone comes by. Again, I will not blame myself. I will blame the ridiculously comfortable mattress that is literally molding with my sprawled body. I detect movement in my peripheral vision and turn my head to see an annoyed looking Neal. No surprise there. He is annoyed most of the times. Nonetheless, I sigh and remove the earphones plugged in my ears.

"What?" I ask.

"Why the hell do we need to wear a tux for a 'judiciary get together'?"

"It's a tuxedo?" I ask, lifting myself to sit.

In answer to my question, Neal picks up a package which is suspiciously similar to his and tosses it across to me. I catch it and fumble with it a bit before revealing the tuxedo which has a nametag with my name written on it in its foremost breast pocket. I throw aside the name tag and appreciatively marvel over the tux.

"Why do we have to wear this shit?" Neal grumbles loudly, still fretting over the pieces of his tux that he has laid out on his bed in between the ocean of books.

Neal requested that he be well known to this arena now, so he expressed his desire to read some of the historical books concerning the Therians and the Realms. Since I am not talking to my father, Neal himself went, albeit reluctantly, to put forth his request. In two days' time, he has finished four of the humongous books my father has lent him. Not wanting to appear clingy, he next approached Anastasia and asked for some of the books which the latter was much too happy to give from the mansion's library. And so, even today, Neal has spent the whole day with his nose buried in some book.

I have noticed that when he is engrossed in his reading feat, he doesn't at all care about his surroundings. The other books will remain haphazardly sprawled on the bed, the bed sheet will remain wrinkled, the porcelain plate with unfinished food will remain at one corner and the half-eaten apple on the bedside table will remain just that, a half-eaten apple.

Unlike what I had assumed, Neal is not the type to spend hours in a library. He instead settles comfortably on the bed and lets the world war begin around him not even lifting his head when I accidently make a loud sound while bumping into stuff. Boy, can he read. Even with my excessive curiosity I used to manage to read one book in a week and here is Neal, way past his fourth book on the third day. But he is a clumsy nerd, not worried about the chaos around him due to his ignorance.

I shrug at him now, nonchalant, "This whole place seems high maintenance." I supply.

"That's fucking peachy." Neal says in sarcasm.

"I am sure if you make your ill favor known to the council, they will definitely do something to remedy your mood."

Neal throws a dark, warning glare at me. I am not wrong about the council members fawning over Neal. But the reason behind their support for Neal is a very different matter, something which Terry uncle brought to light when I had jumped him for millions of my unanswered questions. According to him, most of the council members accepted Neal because they fear him. They believe that if they reject the vaticinator then the vaticinator may envisage and grant them with poor future. The ones, who declined the acceptance of the vaticinator, are actually the ones who believe that the vaticinator has already worked his magic. He has probably already incurred the future and therefore is facing no problem in being accepted.That doesn't mean they are not 'afraid' of 'offending' the vaticinator. The vaticinator, after all, has the power to develop the future of us all by simply closing his eyes. Or so they think, as none are even aware of how long it takes for Neal to accomplish that.

No wonder Ser Daeve had shut up entirely when Neal expressed his distaste over the supposed homophobia Ser Daeve was exhibiting.

Upon hearing the reasons behind the compliance of the council, Neal has turned into his defensive mode. He points out, whenever he gets the chance, that he never, never at all, alters the future for significant events, definitely not for his benefit. He earns very good sly stares from me whenever he goes off in a rant. But then he'll snap at me, whining and yelling, 'The Plutocracy is a silly little insignificant thing, Lichinsky. Stop insinuating that I will fucking turn the world around just for my fucking benefit.'

Yeah, he has started to curse a lot.

The irony is that if Terry uncle is correct about the council members 'fearing' to make a wrong impression on Neal, then I feel I am back in school. In school, the students were subconsciously aware of Neal's future diving abilities and hence, they all worshipped and feared him at the same time. Now, people are actually aware of his literal future divining ability and they are similarly groveling at his feet. Somehow, Neal finds the blatant devotion of the council members much more annoying than the attention whore teenagers who used to beg for him to mention them in The Plutocracy.

I fail to see the freaking difference.

"They have given us identical tuxes." Neal says in a louder voice, his eyes trained on my tuxedo. His tone oddly sounds as if he can't believe this. "What are we, twins?" he quips.

I roll my eyes at him, "More like a gay couple on a wedding cake. You just had to insinuate that we are a couple, didn't you?"

Neal huffs, "Who said anything about us being a couple? I was just lashing at that old prick for being a homophobic bastard. Seriously, I don't see any attraction in your so called 'realm'. They are all freaking priggish, nothing else."

I sigh and do not comment. But I couldn't have agreed more. All of my hopes for what an ideal realm must be have been squashed by the primness I see here. All people seem concerned about is how much power they radiate outwardly. Even my mother's parentshave failed to provide that homely feeling that I had been anticipating. My grandfather is just as jolly as his wife. But years of being ignorant of each other let us steer towards awkward silences. I do not make an inch of an effort at curbing the awkwardness. I see no reason why I should do that. My parents wanted me to be ignorant of my grandparents and I am doing just that.

At least my grandparents on my mother's side enthusiastically greet us and Erisna even invites us to her home for a warm cup of chocolate every day. But father's father, my other grandfather, doesn't even bother to make introductions with me. I do not know what my father and his father's deal is. I am holding choler against father, so I didn't inquire him about it. All I know is that it is my third day here in this mansion and my grandfather still doesn't feel the need to be acquainted with me. Fine by me. Two can play that game.

The thirteenth person on the council, the old man who had not put forth a vote is whom I am pitching for as my grandfather. I am not sure but that old man sure bears resemblance to my father. Besides, I have been informed that if the family of a council member is involved in any of the cases, then that council member's participation during the handling of that case is not allowed. This shall explain why that old man wasn't asked for a vote. He did not even speak at all.

Come evening, we are asked to get ready for the gathering of all the therians in this division and the head members of the other divisions in this realm.With the kind of fancy clothes we are wearing, it seems more like an auction party. The venue is the huge field which is right behind this mansion, something I haven't seen yet. I haven't explored much of this division, except for my grandmother's home.

"I am not wearing this." Neal grumbles, throwing away the bow tie on his bed. He hastily wears his jacket and starts making necessary adjustment while standing in front of the mirror. "How the hell did they even get our right sizes?" Neal wonders aloud.

I am still arranging the pieces of my tuxedo on the bed as opposed to Neal who is already dressed, minus his bow tie. I frown at him as he looks himself over in the mirror.

"You're actually looking tall." I observe. "Why do you even wear loose clothes?" I ask as I return to lay out more of my tux pieces neatly on the bed.

"More comfortable." Neal mutters. "I am going to go."

I look up to find him ready at the door, his thumb pointing towards it. "Okay." I nod at him and pick up my shirt.

When I am ready, with my bow tie on, I leave the room and immediately get assaulted by therian auras. As I traverse the hallway, I see a few people lounging about the mansion. They are dressed as fancily as Neal and I. As I pass them by nobody gives me the light of the day for which I am actually glad. Once outside, I climb down the stairs and start going about the width of the mansion, hoping to find the narrow way towards the backside. Many therians, even some humans are entering the gates of the mansion and traversing towards this narrow pathway to probably go to the backside. Cocktail gowns, straight laced appearances, elegant walks, excited hush whispers. What is this, prom?

It's something even prissier than prom, I realize as I enter the backyard of the mansion. It's a huge field with properly decorated tables and chairs arranged as if it's a wedding. The border of the backyard is marked by plain lamp posts placed intermittently. I almost expected expensive decoration and glittering lights but thankfully the dining tables and the chairs are the only thing that looks out of place for a 'judiciary' meeting. But they are not gaudy. They look opulent, but simple. There is a buffet, which is again a surprise but I am glad that it is simple, nothing too extravagant. The champagne and wine seem unnecessary though.

I shake my head and ignore everything because everything seems unnecessary. An elevated stage is at one end of the field. It's a huge platform where the thirteen council members are already seated, talking in hushed voices with one another. I move towards it and spot my family members lounging near the stage, minus Gwen aunt who has arrived today. Even here she is choosing to remain indoors. A little away, Neal and Aakir are standing with identical poses of their hands in their pockets. Neal looks irked while Aakir seems melancholic for whatever reason. I walk towards them.

"Feels much like a 'judiciary' meeting to anyone?" I say as soon as I join them.

Neal immediately snorts while Aakir just purses his lips and shakes his head.

"I don't understand." Neal says after a while, "Are these...pansies," he looks at everyone around him at the hoard of people in fancy dresses moving about the field, "going to be the ones fighting for us, in case it came down to a war?"

"They all can hear you, you know?" I tell him slyly.

"No." Neal says confidently, "They all are too busy gushing over who is wearing the biggest diamond."

"I am very sure the realm will try it damnedest hard that it doesn't come to a war." A familiar voice interrupts us.

"You look pretty." I tell mother as she joins us. I lean down to kiss her cheek.

"Aww," my mother coos, pinching my cheek, "Thank you, Josh. And you look more handsome than anybody tonight." She gushes, caressing my cheek. I roll my eyes at her.

She turns towards Neal, "And look at you." She continued, "You should drop the loose clothing you wear. You look much dashing now, all primed up." She says and starts straightening his collar.

Neal tsks, his ears slightly tinting pink at the attention, "Comfort over style, I suppose." He says in as much cool voice he can muster while trying to suppress his blush.

"Oh, doesn't go for the females that way." Mother says apologetically while she is actually smirking. "And Neal?"

"Hmm?"

"Whatever happens forth this day, I want you to know that we have your back. Okay?"

Neal doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then he simply nods at my mother. My mother smiles and caresses his cheek, "We are not a fan of the traditions of this realm either." She tells him, "Tonight, they will publicize you. They will make people believe how much you belong here. You know, as we all know, that their support is only superficial. They will not even try to mask their superficiality. To authenticate your belongingness here, they will use the excuse of you being a part of myfamily. I just want you to knowthat out of everything they say the last bit is something they can't be truer about. I consider you as much a part of my family as I consider Josh, remember that. I do not know if these people will be by your side if it actually comes down to a war but you should know that your family will be there. We all will be there, right beside you."

Neal nods again, faintly this time, looking overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotional words from my mother. My mother's smile widens and she lifts herself on her toes while cradling Neal's face. Like usual, she puts two sloppy kisses on both of his cheeks, "And if you need anything, you need only throw a tantrum."

Neal smiles at that.

"Okay?" my mother confirms.

"Okay." Neal nods, still smiling.

"So, anything you need?"

Neal chuckles, "No, thanks." He says modestly.

"Sure?" my mother drawls.

Neal chuckles some more. "Yes. Thanks a lot." he hesitates, "For everything." He adds.

"Well," mother says, "You say you don't need anything but I still have a surprise for you. But later, of course. Have fun till then." She smiles at us.

Her eyes land on Aakir. Now that I notice, Aakir is still sulking, standing sidewaysand unseeingly looking around him. My mother steps up to him and cradles his face, much like she did with Neal. Aakir snaps out of his reverie at the intrusion. Once he sees that it is my mother, a minute smile greets his lips. My mother brings his head down and kisses his forehead, "She'll be fine." She assures. I frown, not really understanding. My mother abruptly let go of his face and instead loops her arm with his, "Let's go and bug Rufina, she is being a strict lady somewhere near the stage."

Aakir manages a chuckle and the both of them depart, my mother enthusiastically waving at us in farewell. I suspire when she leaves.

"Well," I say, "That was too maudlin."

Neal doesn't say anything. It makes me realize that it must have been a huge deal for him to have my mother support him like that. However, before I can comment on the matter, Anastasia, one of the thirteen of the council, rises on the podium and asks for everybody's attention. Her voice unpleasantly echoes through the speakers placed at every corner of the field.

She starts off by greeting everyone, launching into one of the well-rehearsed speeches in which she speaks of the realm, about how they support every therian in the realm and how trust is build up amongst the therians....and much more monotonous things that I tune out. I look around and notice that every person is listening to Anastasia in rapt attention. A few of them will surreptitiously glance in my direction, quickly looking away when I catch their glance. I frown and realize that Neal's aura is already attracting a lot of attention. Anastasia hasn't even started talking about him.

She broaches the subject by starting off with my grandmother. She speaks about how well a member Erisna is in the realm and how her daughter is now back. For a fleeting moment, I feel unease. Mainly because Anastasia is speaking only of my mother's side of the family. She doesn't even mention my father. She further says that how the children of children of the members of this realm are as much a part of this realm as the permanent members.

Then, to my utter embarrassment, she narrates how goodness has come in the form of a partner of one of those children. How the vaticinator now stands amongst us. The crowd bursts into excited chatter at the term 'vaticinator'. The young people look confused but the older ones express shock. More people start turning towards Neal and I, stealing glimpses. Anastasia stars speaking about Neal. How he is some sort of a blessing in disguise. How having a vaticinator amongst us is such a great honor. And again many more things that I choose to ignore.

"This is what is too maudlin." I hear Neal harshly whisper next to me.

I can feel a yawn surfacing on me. I don't comment. Anastasia then explains the plight of the vaticinator. How he wishes to not be under the rulers of the First Realm and how he wishes to remain as a permanent member here.

"That was not part of the deal." I say, frowning. We never said that Neal would permanently stay here.

Neal says nothing. We listen as Anastasia goes on, speaking strongly against the desires of the First Realm to have the vaticinator to themselves. She ends by pointing out the uniqueness disposed by my partner's aura and that he is right here. More faces turn towards us, making me awkwardly scratch my temple. Anastasia announces the voting schedule, to vote for in favor or against protecting the vaticinator against the First Realm members.

And that was that. People busy themselves at buffet and soon everyone is indulged in gossips of their own. More than once I hear the term 'vaticinator' but for once I wish my hearing doesn't be this good. This whole event screams'stepford wives' weird and I am particularly uneasy with how my partner has been literally auctioned in front of these gossiping whores.

Neal and I say nothing but remain standing next to each other. I can see my family in the distance, none of them looking too pleased either. Jennifer and David are also standing near them. Jennifer is glaring daggers at us which I happily ignore. Jennifer and David are totally out of the equation for now. No wonder Jennifer is pissed. But whatever her plans were, this head on collision with the First Realm is still a better option. Of course, if I ignore the part where my partner is supposed to remain as a permanent resident here. Probably for the benefit of the people of this realm.

"Hey." A voice breaks the stupor Neal and I are under. As one, we turn to look at four people, one girl, three guys, three of them seemingly of nearly the same age as Neal and I. All of them are therians.

"Uh...Hey." Neal says quietly to the girl who has spoken.

"We are sorry to disturb." The girl says, smiling at Neal, "We just thought to introduce ourselves."

Neal smiles politely at her, "I guess my introduction was pretty massive." He nods in the direction of the stage. I do not miss the sarcasm. But these kids surely miss it.

One guy chuckles, "Yeah, man. We have, like, heard about the vaticinator. We always thought it's a myth or something."

"You really can form the future?" the other guy asks, incredulously.

"Um, yes." Neal admits hesitatingly, fleetingly looking at me. I can make out that he is not very comfortable at being interrogated. Nonetheless, he continues, "But of course, I try not to...do that often." He smiles tightly.

I resist commenting 'oh really?' at that.

"But, why?" the girls asks, smiling, "It is such a good thing that you have such a gift. It can be used for such greater things."

That's probably the main thing the Ninth Realm council members expect of Neal in exchange for their help against the First Realm. This night seems to be getting darker and darker.

"Well," Neal hesitates, "I deem it fit to not meddle with significant events. You guys are?" he quickly asks before anybody could raise more protestations.

"I am Irina." The girl introduces with a big smile. "That's my brother, Roman." She introduces the guy next to her, "And that's Zakhary and Lev." She points at the next two guys. The boy Roman is young, probably around thirteen or fourteen. He awkwardly stands beside his elder sister without saying a word. Not even responding to his introduction.

"This is Josh." Neal introduces me.

"I know!" Irina gushes, stepping towards me, "You're Erisna's grandson, right? She is a very nice lady. I am a huge fan of the cupcakes available in her shop. Her cooking is fabulous."

I frown while I extend my hand to shake her hand that she thrusts towards me. "Shop?" I ask.

Irina's eyes widen in shock, "You haven't seen your grandmother's sweets and bakery shop yet? Happiness Reincarnated? It's the best Bakery in whole of Krasnoyarsk." She smiles hugely, "Don't worry, I am sure you'll visit it soon and get addicted."

I simply hum and smile at her. So, my grandparents have a sweets shop and a bake house and of the same name that is adopted by my mother for our shop back in Latvia. Now I know where my mother's good cooking abilities and business success comes from.

"You're so lucky to have the vaticinator as your partner." Irina further adds, when I say nothing.

Neal scoffs but quickly feigns it as a cough. Then he chuckles, "Sure he is." He says.

This time his sarcasm is caught. The guy, Lev, smiles at Neal indulgently, "Don't be sarcastic, man. It is really an honor. I know that I'd be flattered." Then he looks at me with a smile, "Aren't you?"

"Of course." I say slowly, smiling a tight lipped smile.

"You'd be flattered if you simply had a partner." Irina quips at the guy.

The guy, Lev, scoffs, "Yeah, sure. But definitely not if it's a girl." He gives a certain look to Neal.

I frown at him, "What do you-"

"That's cool, buddy." Neal says, giving me a glance that says 'shut up'. He turns back at Lev, "I am sure you'll find someone soon."

"You two really give him hope." The guy, Zakhary, smirks, "Otherwise homosexual partners are increasingly becoming a rarity here in the last two years or something."

"I am sure it'll work out." Neal says. "Listen, guys," he abruptly grabs my elbow, "It's nice to meet you and all. But we have to join our family now, so..."

"That's alright." Irina says, "But now that you guys are here for a long time, let's hang out some time. We can give you a tour of the place."

"That's actually a very nice plan. Thanks." Neal says.

After a round of goodbyes, Neal is steering me away from those guys. He doesn't pause as we reach the end of the backyard. He simply pushes through sparse bushes and drags me out of the function. I am in such a blinding stupor that I do not even consider questioning him regarding where is he leading me. All I can feel is this exceptional excitement and a sense of vast substantial equanimity. All the negativity that was on my shoulders through the evening disappears instantly. The contentment I feel in Neal's aura is ten folds more potently overpowering me. I can actually feel the dispositions of his aura, making me sigh contentedly. Happily, despite the annoyance I was feeling only moments back.

As my feet move without really any effort from me, I try to think through the haze why I am so giddy all of a sudden. I think back to those kids we were talking to, Lev's words suddenly managing to make my brain think a little.

"What did he mean by he doesn't want a girl?" I ask Neal, as soon as I manage to form the words.

"That he is gay." Neal says in a 'duh' tone.

A moment of pleasant silence passes as Neal continues to drag me away to god knows where.

Then I speak, "Was that guy hitting on you?" my tone comes out much, much amused.

Neal scoffs, letting go of my elbow, "More like we are his gay icons now."

"...Fuck."

I do not curse because people are assuming us to be gays. Yeah, slightly because of that. But mostly because the dazzling, top of the world feeling has suddenly vanished. Now I sense the similar, tamer, pleasantness that I usually do in Neal's presence. It takes me another moment to comprehend it all.

Neal had been holding my elbow. He was touching me. Through double layers of clothes; which explains why it wasn't as potent as the day when he had punched my bare skin, yet stronger than what I feel in his enveloping aura. I swallow past the sudden desire to experience that goodness again. I ignore my thoughts and look around me.

I notice that we are no more amidst the function. Neal has dragged us out of the backyard of the mansion further through its backside. The view in front of me is of a river bank. As opposed to the site of Yenisei River in the core of the city, this river bank looks much natural, surrounded by sand and rocks. It oddly reminds me of the beach in Latvia. The therians do ensure to remain amongst lots of greenery and at least one water body. The dirt field extends for several yards before ending into small pebbles. Those give way to larger rocks, all haphazardly placed on the sand, bordering the river that is flowing freely through the night.

"Why are we here?" I ask, stepping towards the bank.

"You want to go back there and tell people how honorable you feel about me?" Neal snaps.

I shrug nonchalantly, "Why so snappy all of a sudden? You're the one who is advertising us as a couple since we came here." I couldn't help but add some bitterness to my words.

"Am I, now?" Neal challenges, "How about you telling me that partners are not necessarily supposed to romance each other?"

"What about it?"

Neal looks at me as if I have lost my mind. But I seriously don't get it. Partners are not supposed to romantically incline towards each other, not necessarily. What is the fuss about?

"What about it?" Neal echoes my question, "How about every single person in your realm believing that partners are eternal soul mates or something?" he snaps.

I cannot believe this. "Are you being serious right now? Even after reading most of our therian history?"

Neal huffs, "Your history may not say that partners are supposed to romanticize but it doesn't even say that they aren't supposed to. Those books largely emphasize that partners are always supposed to be together."

"Yeah, so?" I snap, "Partners are supposed to be together." I stress, making him focus on the togetherness rather than the insinuating romance. Then I huff, feeling helpless, "Are we going to argue about this again? How many times do I have to tell? Conceptually that is not the case! To choose your partner as your romantic interest is your own choice! There's no hell bent rule that your partner is supposed to be your lover."

"Then go and tell that to all of them," Neal blindly waves his hand towards the direction of the mansion, "Those presumptuous bastards who automatically assume us to be gay. Those are the ones insinuating us to be a couple, not I." he snaps.

Neal angrily removes his jacket which I am assuming he did not at all enjoy wearing tonight. He walks two steps ahead and sits on an enormous boulder, facing the river. He drops his jacket next to his feet and starts opening the buttons on his cuff, rolling the sleeves up to his elbow.

I calmly walk and sit next to him, careful to keep space between us. I don't want to accidentally touch him and make my thoughts turn to mush. I sit down, facing the direction in which the mansion is. An extending silence falls in which Neal is silently observing the river while I am gazing at the lights in the distance. The lights are surely the part of the function we have just escaped.

I clear my throat loudly after a moment, "So...what now? Are we still fighting or what?"

Neal doesn't say anything for a moment and then he sighs. "I had to talk to you about a few things actually." He says, his voice completely normal as if we weren't eating each other's head off a moment before.

"What about?"

"I had a word with David this morning."

"What, Jennifer bitching to him about you, now?"

"Sort of." Neal acquiesces, "But...David seemed to be making more sense. Especially in the light of these circumstances."

I frown at him, "Don't tell me you're considering eloping with them." I mutter in a disbelieving tone.

"Actually, David wasn't aware of Jen aunt's plan before today. He was simply discussing the pros and cons of staying here. I accidently slipped that Jen aunt was persuading me to leave at the hotel too. He seemed surprised. Anyway, we were discussing. And we saw that the cons are more than the pros. If I stay here, firstly, there's no guarantee that the Ninth Realm will succeed at protecting me. David says that the First Realm is the most powerful...or something like that. And if perchance, the First Realm gets empowered then also David is sure that they will not go down without making some sort of an accord with the Ninth Realm. Considering how much I have seen of the Ninth Realm, I will not be surprised if they change teams at the end moment. If by some miracle the Ninth Realm sticks with us till the end then they will be doing that because they expect me to somehow be favorably inclined towards them, with respect to my abilities. So, all in all, I seem to be getting screwed from everywhere."

"And if you run away then the chances of the First Realm getting a hand at you are almost hundred percent. Then there would be no more 'If's and no more positive results, not even with negligible probability."

"If they get a hand on me." Neal stresses on 'if'.

I shake my head, infuriated, "Are you forgetting what dad said about running away?"

"Yeah, that the therians from First Realm will find me eventually. But, even now I think that if I effectively use by futuristic ability, I may be absolutely able to suppress the chances of anyone getting at me."

I drearily dislike Neal using his future making ability. I don't focus on my displeasure though and instead point out the pointlessness of using his abilities. I say, "If that had a definite success rate then dad would have made you divine our future right now. He would have made you ensure that the First Realm therians do not even get here. The First Occultist knows the definite way in which your abilities work, Neal. Dad was plenty sure they will find a loophole through your methods. You, yourself know, that you cannot even see the definite future if it hasn't been perfectly determined by the ones involved. Besides you cannot keep divining the future twenty four-seven. We are not exactly in a position to take chances."

"Aren't we already taking chances? By being here?"

"Neal," I sigh exasperatedly, "You're forgetting one very important difference. The Ninth Realm treats you like an omnipotent being, like you're a god or something but the First Realm wants their hands on you because they consider you a servant. Don't ever forget this difference." I shake my head slowly, "Besides, if you go away then you sure as hell will not have any back up in case you land in a dire situation. I don't like being here either but even I can see that it is the best option we have as of now. For the long run, anyways."

"I just...." Neal suspires, "I just feel that if I go away...it's very unlikely for any therian to find me. I mean, I can be at any corner of the world. I could well be in my old age before someone finds me."

I shake my head again, "It may take only a few years for the First Realm to have all the realms in their favor. Then therians will be searching for you worldwide. It's still a risk."

"I spent seventeen years of my life without a therian finding me."

"Because they thought vaticinators don't take birth anymore." I retort. "Now they know that you're there. Even catching you in old age will be beneficial for them. They only need the vaticinator lineage to be open and in their hands again."

Neal is silent after that. I am satisfied with the contradictions I have put up. My reasoning obviously makes more sense. But his doubts are still gnawing at my mind, making my thoughts get panicky. Almost impetuously, I blurt out my next words.

"Neal...of course I am making sense so I will not convince you for my reasons." I tell him, "But...if, if at all, you still decide to run away then please don't do that without informing me."

Neal looks at me weirdly for a moment then chuckles, "Actually, I may even invite you to accompany me. So, don't get your panty in a bunch."

I inaudibly sigh in relief, realizing at that moment how anxious I am about my partner leaving my side. I feel my ears burning up so I immediately fall into my macho stance, "But, of course, not running away is still freaking wiser than blindly jumping off a cliff."

Neal doesn't say anything. Somehow, to my absolute humiliation, it is obvious to me why Neal is assuring me that he will not depart without informing me. It is because of the partner thing. Neal has witnessed Aakir's panic filled stance regarding Silvia; there is no way he would not consider my state of mind if he goes away. The thought simply embarrasses me more.

"Okay, forget that." Neal mutters after an eon, "I wanted to talk about Aakir too."

I frown, "What about him?"

Neal gives me a funny look, "I am sure you must have noticed his situation."

"Uh..."

"Regarding Silvia?" Neal hints.

Oh.

I had completely forgotten about Silvia. Is that why Aakir is looking upset? I feel shamed in admitting how clueless I am.

"You're one brother I have seen." Neal drawls, "Whatever. I was thinking...of helping him."

"With Silvia?" I ask, still frowning.

"Yes. Silvia is still depressed...I didn't even know such huge event alteration can cause something like this. I was thinking of creating some vague happy moments for her. Maybe it will curb her depressive phase. I'll make sure Aakir is there in those moments of course."

"Create how?" I ask. This is actually not bad. We are going to be free most of the time. It will be better if we can conjure some pleasant surprises for Silvia. The guilt of not being aware of my brother's situation is already sort of eating me up.

Neal gives me a condescending glare, "What do you mean 'create how'?" he snaps, "I'm sure Aakir wouldn't mind the help. He'll help me project too."

I take several moments to let that sink in.

"You meant...creating the future?"

"What did you think?" he asks incredulously.

I shrug, disappointment more than clear on my face, "Something naturally occurring with our manual effort." I give a snarky reply.

"Okay...we can do that. I'll make sure it happens with certainty and that Silvia truly gets happy by it."

I give him a sharp look, "You just want to use your abilities, don't you?"

"I want to be sure that Silvia is helped."

"Don't."

Neal hesitates, "What?"

"We'll do it on our own. Don't use your deceptive techniques-"

"Deceptive?" he drawls.

"-Yes, deceptive." I snap, "What you will conjure may not occur in natural circumstances."

"It'll solve the problem." Neal says in the 'duh' tone.

"We can try to solve it by our own effort." I repeat. "Don't use your abilities."

"Who died and made you my boss?" Neal snaps.

I glare at him, "Are we fighting again?" I ask, bitterly.

"You're being my boss again." He ripostes.

I huff. I take a moment to calm myself. I don't want to fight again. Not over the same thing. That's all we keep doing.

"I don't like you using your abilities." I tell him quietly, my tone placid.

Neal takes a moment, "I don't like your abilities either, Lichinsky."

I roll my eyes, "Do you see me as an animal right now? Or ever?" I quip, "I don't like my abilities either."

"...You don't?"

I turn to look at him. He is watching me apprehensively, and dare I say, curiously.

"Well...yeah." I admit awkwardly. I realize that I have never actually expressed that I dislike myself as a therian. Not aloud at least.

"Figures." Neal says, "I thought you must enjoy it."

"I do." I quickly say, "It has its perks. But...it is also somehow nonhuman and sort of a monstrosity, irrespective of how natural the therians think it is."

"You don't like anything...supernatural." Neal points out after a long pause.

"You can say so." I mumble, looking straight ahead.

"No wonder you kept persuading me that the characteristics of therians are not far off from a human's."

"They are not." I insist.

"Yeah, right."

I choose to not comment on his sarcastic jibe. Suddenly everything seems very different. Feelsvery different. Somehow I am finding this significant. A mere, vague thought of mine that I do not entirely enjoy my non-humanness has been shared for the first time with somebody. That is not what makes it of substantial value. The fact that I am sharing it with my partner firsthand is what seems to be of importance. It may have been only a few days since my rapport with my partner has improved, mostly owing to the revelations of our identities as these supernatural beings. But these few days alone have developed such a good bond, even if an argument filled one, between myself and my partner. Without actually saying, my partner knows that I will not tolerate his absence. Inconspicuously, he does manage to convey that he will not leave me hanging alone behind, in case he jumps off into the oblivion. Furthermore, partner or not, he always makes sure to convey his thoughts, doubtful and unpleasant ones, to me. That is something I have been taking pride in since the day he got to know about us therians. Even before knowing that we are partners, he had been more inclined towards sharing his thoughts with me. And now, with or without the conscious thought of us being partners, he still expresses his thoughts; his doubts, his opinions; to me before anybody else. Hell, he has even proved in some of these circumstances that he trusts me more than his own aunt. And now, even I find myself telling him something that I have never considered significant enough to voice until now.

"Let's go." I tell him, feeling overwhelmed by all the gay thoughts in my mind; no pun intended.

It just seems out of place because I have never paused to ponder over my relationship with any of the men in my life, except for my father maybe. Gives a whole new light over the subject of partners.

We traverse back the length to the function which is still going on with full force. We enter the backyard from its backside, from right behind the stage. I inform Neal of my desire to go to the room and succumb to a peaceful sleep. His thoughts are no more different than mine. I inform mother before departing. Mother tells Neal that she has kept something for him in the room. Neal frowns, smiles and kisses my mother on the cheek before departing. As soon as we reach our room, I waste no time in collecting my nightwear and departing to the adjoining bathroom to change my clothes. When I return, Neal is sitting on his bed with something in his hands. He hasn't even bothered to remove his shoes. I walk and hang my tuxedo inside one of the cupboards. I turn back and Neal is still looking at something in his hands. I remember that mother has left something for him.

Curiously, I ask, "What is it?"

Neal looks up, an effortless smile on his face, "A gift." He says, extending his hand so I can look better.

"Phone?"

Neal nods, "iPhone. I actually needed one...since Ethan crushed my last phone."

I nod appreciatively, "Guess mom really knew what you needed. Did she write something?"

Neal looks up from the plain white parchment that is in his hands. He hastily folds it, "Nothing of importance." He nonchalantly says and stuffs the paper in his pocket.

I roll my eyes at him. I am sure my mother must have written something mushy to Neal. Neal being Neal, I don't expect him to reveal it to me. So, I let it go. Knowing mother, she probably wrote something along the lines of how she considers Neal to be a part of her family.

When Neal is ready to hit the sack, he turns off the lights. In the darkness, I find my thoughts steering towards my mother's gift and her words to Neal earlier in the party. Since the beginning Neal has taken a liking to my mother. Tonight's event must have just made him like her more. And why wouldn't he? Mother is far better at comforting Neal than anybody else, even me.

Where only two days ago I had shouted at Neal, shamelessly reminding him that he has no family, my mother has scored triple today with her pep talk. It is only making me feel guilty for how rude I was to Neal when we fought two days back. Well, he wasn't exactly all flowers and rainbows but in his defense he is always like that.

"Neal?" I say in the darkness, loud enough for him to hear me on his bed.

"Hmm?" he replies instantly.

"I am sorry...for yelling at you day before yesterday. You know, about that family shit and all. I didn't actually mean it, so, sorry."

"What about today?" he asks.

"What about today?"

"You yelled at me today too."

I pick the spare pillow on my bed and throw it across at him. From the sound of it, it does hit him but he only chuckles.

"Don't hit your luck." I grumble loud enough.

"How come you're apologizing so soon?" he says, "I was expecting an apology next year or something."

"I'll say again, don't hit your luck."

Neal chuckles again, "Well, you don't hit yourself over it either. You weren't wrong. I don't have a family."

"No." I say sleepily, "Now you do."

There is an extended silent moment.

"This is getting too maudlin." Neal mocks.

I chuckle, "Goodnight, Neal."

"G'night, G'night."

  18. Mikhail's Archenemy

The voting day passed by like any other day for us. The mansion is not where the voting occurs so we are not aware where exactly the horde of people had gathered. Now it's been almost two weeks above the voting; for which I have realized that the representatives of different divisions are carrying out the votes in their respective divisions. We have not had much to do in the last few days except for aimlessly gallivanting inside the mansion. None of my family members encourage any of us young people to explore the realm. Even if they will, I don't think I will feel enthusiastic about the idea. So far, my grandmother's house is the only place I have visited except for the mansion. She persuades me at times to visit the family business but I always find some excuse. The thought of watching the bakery from which our shop in Latvia literally took birth is not something I want to see. It will only make me realize how ignorant my family has kept me, amidst such personal things.

Though I have come to like my grandmother's famous hot chocolate, I still do not feel particularly enamored with the woman. She talks at miles per hour and coddles us like we have been here all our lives. Every one of us kids, even Neal, in fact even Silvia, has come to like Erisna for the homely aura she disposes. My grandfather, Jacob is, as opposed to my grandmother, not so talkative. Yet, that old man has sensed my reservations much quickly than my grandmother. I observe the laughing wrinkles on his ethereal face, his plain brown eyes, opposed to my blue ones, twinkling, as he continues to express observations of his own.

"Is it because you're homesick?" he says in a gravelly voice which is actually how his voice is. Perhaps, due to old age.

"No." I say, "I am fine." I insist.

"I know adjustment can be hard, son. But know that we are trying our best to be good grandparents."

Jacob is not a tough old man. He is humble, mostly placid. He keeps a straight back when he walks but a constant compliant smile on his face and one of his ears constantly devoted to his wife makes him seem a little shorter than he is.

"Grandpa..." I say, actually feeling bad for ignoring these old people. But then I huff, "I didn't even know you guys existed a few days ago." I tell him, exasperated.

Jacob suspires, "I know, son. Though I will never understand why you had to be kept oblivious of me and Erisna."

His words speak volumes to me, something along the lines that it's only my other grandfather – Mikhail – I should have been oblivious of. For a moment I contemplate asking what does he exactly imply but then I refrain, more from the fear of rejection. They are the only ones who are affectionate towards me, despite my disinclination towards them. If I will discover that they are prone to hide things too then it will probably destroy whatever positive image I have managed to conjure of them.

Besides, it just feels wrong to talk of my one grandfather to my other grandfather. I have not seen both of them talking at all, anyways. In fact, I haven't seen Mikhail at all since that 'judiciary' gathering in the backyard. It is already around a month after that.

But I definitely am considering asking about why my parents left this realm as I feel that is indirectly connected to Mikhail. Just as a coherent sentence forms in my mind, I get distracted by Neal sitting across the yard in the distance.

"Erm," I distractedly turn back at Jacob, "I am fine, grandpa." I repeat, "Don't worry."

"Hmm." Jacob says, turning around to see what has me distracted. Thankfully, Silvia, Aakir, Faith and Rahul are also in the front yard. So, Jacob may probably not assess the embarrassing blush creeping on my neck. "I just want you to know that we are here for you. Now go, have fun." Jacob says, patting my shoulder once.

I nod and walk past him. Silvia, who is laughing for a change, is dodging Aakir with a basketball in her hand. She is supposedly teaching him some of the tricks on the driveway of my grandparent's house. She seems to be enjoying Aakir's foolishness. Faith is sitting in the front yard, her legs outstretched on the levelly cut green grass, getting tanned in the not so bright sun. Rahul and Neal are sitting on the chairs that they all have dragged out in the yard.

A high pitched giggle escapes Silvia as she snatches the basketball from Aakir, making Faith cheer for her while the guys chide Aakir for being a pansy. Neal is hollering his disappointment, alright. He is actually reliving it as I am sure this is one of the events he has conjured up to benefit Silvia. Despite my constant disapproval, Neal has gone right ahead and done as he and Aakir pleased. The only thing I am glad about is that he did not lie and do it at my back. Apart from that, I make sure to express my disgust at his antics.

Right now he is sitting in the utter state of relaxation, his dulcet aura almost humming around him in vibrancy. The chairs laid out are plain, plastic rickety chairs. Irrespective of their weak appearance, Neal is being daring enough by leaning back, supporting his weight on the two hind legs of the chair.

"Good talk?" he drawls as I approach them. He has obviously seen me conversing with Jacob. It was him constantly looking at us that distracted me in the first place.

I walk right up to him as he watches me apprehensively. I put my foot underneath one of the lifted front legs of the chair he is sitting on. Without warning, I kick the front leg. Neal jolts by the sudden impact, his eyes widening, his lips parting in a silent gasp, blindly flaying his hands in front of him as his chair precariously tilts back, almost at the verge of falling backwards. Right at the end moment, he finds his balance and jolts back his chair upright, his hands cautiously in front of him as if he is holding something invisible.

I find myself guffawing at his posture and expressions. Rahul, who had been slightly tilting back his chair too immediately rights his own chair while chuckling.

"Fuck you." Neal snarls, having a mini heart attack.

"That's not a very good comeback." Rahul says, "Not for you two."

I have come to ignore people constantly insinuating Neal and I to be together. Except for Aakir, everybody seems to assume, or insinuate in case of my family, that we are gay and together-together. Neal and I do not respond anymore. Not that we used to reply much before.

Through these past weeks we have grown a mutual understanding. I hardly leave Neal's side as it is except for when he is spending time with my family or the one time when he took upon Irina's invitation. Else, it is always Neal buried in a book while I listen to music beside him. Or it will be both of us arguing upon something or the other. Or we will be hanging around with my siblings.

Occasionally Neal will end up spending a lot of time in my grandmother's living room, glued to the television and on other times he'll crib to me about lack of a television in our room in the mansion. The bottom line is that I am mostly in his vicinity. Considering how much together we stay, it's obvious we'll come to the stage to not be bothered by the comments of other people.

"Fuck you too." Neal says to Rahul, making me laugh even more.

"You know," I say once I am sober enough, "For a nerd, your vocabulary is quite explicit."

"Explicit?" he says, "I think you mean deplorable."

I feel my eyes widening at him being so specific, "Jeez, I am not a nerd. Don't expect me to be right dead on at every word."

Neal scoffs, now sitting straight, all the four legs of his chair touching the ground, "What do you know about a nerd's life?" he says, "You'll be surprised by what all thoughts remain inside." He taps his forehead for emphasis.

"Oh, I do!" Aakir hollers from the distance, having heard our conversation. He pauses his game and turns in our direction, "I had that, whatshisname, the dorky little guy in my chemistry class. He was my partner for a project last year. Total nerd. He was dorkier than you, Neal."

"Fuck you too, buddy."

Everybody chuckles. Aakir passes the ball to Silvia, resuming his game while talking simultaneously, "That kid, he had a collection of porn mag stuffed under his mattress, something that I accidently discovered."

"You say that as if it's a big deal." Neal says, frowning.

"As if nerds don't have needs." Faith drawls.

"Well," Aakir contemplates, "He looked like someone who felt ashamed for even looking at a girl. So, yes, it seemed like a big deal."

"It's a big deal because you're a teenager." Silvia says, her tone chiding and rolls her eyes. Aakir momentarily scowls, displeased with Silvia again treating him like a kid.

"Seems only like a frustrated virgin to me." Rahul says.

Neal faintly chuckles, "Exactly."

"You would know obviously." Aakir smirks at Neal, tossing the ball to Silvia.

"Gee, thanks." Neal says, "As if all nerds are virgins." He rolls his eyes.

"You're not?" I ask, feeling slightly flabbergasted at the news.

"No."

"You look like one." Aakir says.

"I didn't know you could make out who is a virgin by simply looking." Silvia says, shaking her head.

Aakir looks at me with an incomprehensible look on his face. He shrugs, "I suppose not." He says.

Unluckily for me, Neal catches the exchange. He turns to look at me, "You're a virgin?" he asks in such an incredulous tone as if he cannot believe it.

I scoff, "I am surprised that you're not."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I have never seen with you any girl except for with Ananya." I point out.

Neal immediately averts his eyes. "Well, I don't kiss and tell." He says and simply shrugs. He sits straight, his eyes directed at something else, his lips pursed in concentration. I have come to realize this as his defensive posture. I quickly rewind our last words in my head, to grasp what has him coiling inwardly. And then it dawns on me.

I stare at him, "Are you kidding me? Ananya?"

Neal further presses his lips together, his eyebrows furrowing together in the mid valley that leads to his nose. He looks displeased that I have guessed right spot on. But I am highly astounded. Ananya? Sure they hung together all the time but I don't think there has been any romantic disposition between them. Not from what Neal has told me, except for when he expressed his crush on her. It is more astounding to note that they are still best of friends. He gives me a sideways fleeting glance. But that is enough for him to convey that he doesn't want to pursue the topic. Considering we aren't exactly alone, I decide not to question it further. Knowing Neal, he probably doesn't want anyone to think ill towards Ananya.

"It is Ray who used to get all the girls." Aakir swears, looking at us boys suggestively, "It astounded me, really. That guy literally swims in panties."

Silvia shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight smile, "High school." She says with disapproval, while at the same time Faith corrects her by saying, "Boys." Now that has me rolling my eyes.

Neal sighs heavily, a longing look on his face. Even without him saying I can guess what it is he is thinking about. Pretty much the only exciting thing in Neal's life before this whole issue was The Plutocracy. I have heard him talking with Ananya two-three days back, something I have been warning against, but when does Neal listen to me? He went right ahead and called his best friend. Neal is exceptionally interested in questioning what happenings are occurring in our high school. He may not exactly be a gossipy manbut he likes to be aware of everything in school even if it's 'Ray swimming in panties'.Or maybe should I say, he likes to create news in the school and is missing the prowess he had because of it. Now he is simply sitting back, constantly having me speaking against his same news 'making' ability.

A little itty-bitty chat continues amongst us. Faith and Rahul are the first ones to depart towards the inside. Neal and I exchange an understanding glance and decide to leave Aakir and Silvia behind. But I have no intentions of going inside my grandmother's place and listen to my mother and aunt gossiping for all their worth with their parents. I suggest going back to the mansion. Neal simply shrugs. We bid Aakir and Silvia goodbye and walk out on the street, heading towards the direction of the mansion.

"What made you come to us?" Neal asks as soon as we are on our path.

"What do you mean?"

"When you were talking to your granddad....you changed your mind and joined us in the front yard instead of continuing your talk with him."

"Eh...yeah, I did?" my admission comes out as a question due to his query.

Neal rolls his eyes, "When I had meditated with Aakir yesterday and saw the future....you had continued to talk with your granddad. You hadn't joined us."

I take a moment to think over it. So, he saw the future but he did not see me joining them. Does that mean he...?

"You hadn't willed the whole scene to occur with full probability?" I ask.

"I had only assured Silvia's good mood." Neal admits sheepishly. "In fact...I had been focusing so hard on Silvia that I failed to put much thought into other things happening around. I thought they'll occur as I am seeing it. But apparently I need to focus on everything if I want everything to happen the way I want to."

"Goes to show your drawbacks." I mutter.

Neal hesitates, "I suppose." He acquiesces reluctantly.

"That's why you were so shocked when I tripped you." I smirk, only now realizing that I have managed to surprise Neal in an event which he had already seen in his astral form.

Neal gives me a dark glare, "Not funny, Lichinsky. I had tripped someone similarly when I was a kid. That guy had broken his arm. So, next time remember that I am a human before trying something like that."

"What has you being human got to do with it?" I ask, feeling slightly offensive.

Neal hesitates again, "I presume that therians can't get hurt by a simple fall like that."

I huff at him, "Yeah, we are strong. Doesn't mean we cannot get hurt. Our immune system is strong so it's unlikely for us to develop feverish illness. But physically? We can get hurt with that kind of fall too, especially if we fall in the wrong posture. And," I drawl, before Neal can say anything, "We take an equal amount of time to heal. No mumbo jumbo healing." I choose to not point out that a therian has better reflexes, so will easily prevent a fall like that. I just disclose the outcome if a therian happens to fall, howsoever unlikely it may be.

"That's relieving." Neal says, sarcastically.

We walk in silence. After a certain amount of steps, Neal drastically increases his pace, warily looking around. I snort at his change in behavior.

"She must be in school right now. Hold your horses." I say to him.

Neal rolls his eyes, "You were not with her through the day, listening to her fawn over your abilities." He shakes his head, "That girl is persistent. And wicked. I almost spilled about Aakir being my protector and how I require him to project."

The last thing is something that even the council doesn't know about. They know of Aakir being the protector but have decided to preserve his privacy and not declare his identity to the common folk. But the council doesn't know that Neal requires Aakir to project, henceforth, basically requiring Aakir to conjure the future.

"You were the one entertaining her at the judiciary meet." I point out, and then disapprovingly shake my head, "I had easily made out that Irina is just another gossipy girl. You should have known better before agreeing to spend the day with her."

"What did you expect me to say when she approached us in that stupid, fancy get together? That she can go away and suck it up? I cannot say 'I am gay' because she apparently already believes that and still wants to spend time with me."

"I don't think she wants to spend time with you for romantic reasons." I smirk.

Neal scoffs, "Then I wonder why she keeps giving me this creepy smile, praising me and talking about how she wants a partner soon enough. I mean, she is even worse than that gay guy we met in the party."

"Neal," I stress, "Maybe she wants you to envision and divine her future, probably with her partner in it."

Neal is silent for a long, long moment, "Yeah," he begins quietly after a while, "that makes sense." Another pause, "Shit, I am so full of myself." He mutters.

His admission is so unexpected that I end up laughing. There have been numerous occasions in the past where Neal has expressed pride over himself. I have never taken that as something of significance because the way I see it he probably deserves all the praise. Or at least I thought so when I used to ambiguously believe him to be the true power holder in our school. That was before he revealed his future divining ability. But now, listening to him realizing his own gloating is almost surreal. Like, I am also realizing the same along with him.

"To be honest," I say as I sober up, "That gay guy seemed more interested in you than Irina."

Neal rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. Probably I am wrong. I had not accompanied Neal when Irina and her minions invited us to hang out. Neal believed it to be rude to refuse. I had not been enthusiastic in the party so I had no qualms about making the wrong impression once again. And by this simple thought, I face an epiphany.

"Neal?" I say.

"Hmm?"

"In our school...you never used to worry about what people think about you."

"...I still do not care what they think. What's your point?"

I raise my eyebrows, but quickly drop them, "Eh...I don't know. I just find it weird that you seem to care what people think about you in this realm. I mean, even someone like Irina."

Neal looks at me sideways. Feeling his gaze, I turn too. Only to be greeted by his scowling face.

"What?" I say, frowning, wondering if I said something wrong. My observation is not incorrect. Neal has been extra careful at not making a wrong impression on anybody here.

"Don't you need these people for support against the First Realm?" he snaps.

I part my lips to say something but eventually I close my mouth, turning to look ahead as we continue to walk. Here I am, in need of the whole Ninth Realm to remove anybody else's claims on my partner. And Neal's reasoning has just made me realize that I have been despising this realm and its people since I have stepped foot inside the mansion. I do not even pause to consider that I am eventually making the others dislike me too. Ostensibly, Neal seems to be more cognizant of the situation and is working accordingly to portray himself as the perfect partner of a perfect therian who belongs to a perfect realm.

I sigh.

We continue to walk in silence for a while and soon another thought starts nagging at the back of my mind. I let a few other moments pass. When the mansion is dangerously close, I clear my throat.

"So," I begin, "You and Ananya, huh?"

From the corner of my eye I notice how Neal instantly grits his teeth, locking his jaw in place. He suspires loudly before turning to look at me.

"Can you not say her name again in front of everybody else?" he says.

I roll my eyes, "I was quite surprised, so, didn't think before uttering her name in front of everyone."

Neal frowns, "Why surprised?" he huffs.

I stare at him.

Neal's frown deepens at my stare then he pointedly shrugs at me.

I look around once, my eyebrows pulled by my hairline. Then I turn back at Neal, "So," I cautiously start, "it's no big deal that you sleep with her?" my tone ends up implying this as a rhetorical question.

Neal rolls his eyes, "Cut your mental images a notch. I don't 'sleep' with her. It was just once. And we were kids. Curious kids who had just had their first sex educational class.If you have a best friend of the opposite gender, you tend to get even more curious."

I frown, "So...you both..."

Neal shrugs, "We are most comfortable with each other and we both were fine with losing our virginity to each other. And this was like two years back. We don't even think about it anymore. But," he pointedly looks at me, "that doesn't mean that you start spreading the news like fire. Don't you dare say Ananya's name again."

"Hey, I didn't say her name intentionally, okay?" I snap. "It just took me by surprise."

"If you had an extremely close female friend then you wouldn't be so surprised." He turns to frown at me, "And actually, I am very surprised that you're a virgin. Like, seriously? What happened to Jocks 'swimming in panties'?"

"It was 'Ray swimming in panties', not the Jocks." I correct. "And it's not like I haven't done...stuff...with girls. I just didn't go all the way."

Neal grimaces, "Why?"

I shrug, "Didn't feel like it." I mutter.

Noticing my reluctance, Neal drops the subject. I am glad that he does. Discussing my virginity with my partner is not something that was on schedule for me. Besides, I am myself not sure what reason is there behind my reluctant indulgence in sex. I am a usual hormonal teenage guy, it is something expected of me. Yet, I remember the two times in my past when I had turned down my dates for their explicit suggestions. It just did not feel right, for whatever reason. Before this whole headache that dropped on me since I found my partner, I had full intentions of losing my virginity before eighteen years of age, probably with Natalie. But now, I am not so sure where I stand.

We walk through the huge front yard of the mansion in silence and even climb the infinite stairs absolutely mute. It's not an uncomfortable silence, no, it's far from it. The thought actually makes me smile. It's with very few people that I manage to find comfort when there is an air of reticence. I am glad Neal has made to that list.

Entering through the doors of the mansion, I realize that the doors are open twenty four-seven. I have never seen them close. The main gates in the front yard are however usually close, requiring an access card that has been granted to us for the span of our stay here. But I don't know if that is much of a hurdle for a therian. The people in this realm seem to trust each other wholeheartedly.

We cross the foyer and enter one of the hallways. Neal is observing the infrastructure by tilting his head upwards and watching the intricate, renaissance designs on the ceiling. He is enough confident to not watch ahead while walking or he has enough trust in me that I will not let him fall. The thought actually makes me roll my eyes.

"Hey, look-" is all Neal manages to say. Before he utters those words, I sense his arm moving towards mine, probably to grab my arm and make me look at whatever he is watching. My reflexes immediately make me coil my arm away from his touch, almost unconsciously. I know that the thought lingering at the back of my mind is responsible for me snapping away from Neal suddenly. I do not want to experience his touch again. Oh, scratch that. I should not experience his touch again. Because God knows that I want to. Ethan was right about the theory regarding this. Once I have sensed Neal's aura, I prefer it to be constant around me. Now I know how good his touch feels, in a non-gay way, and that has also just made me constantly yearn for it. My desire is completely unacceptable, irrespective of it being platonic. I cannot exactly ask Neal to start hanging out with me, hand in hand, like a pair of pansies, simply because I covet it. It is best if I curb my craving. If I experience Neal's touch again, then my abstinence is going to be hard to continue. And so, I have been careful to not even accidently touch Neal.

My self-defense thoughts make me completely ignore Neal for a while. When I actually come back to my conscious senses, I look up to find Neal standing still at his place, his mouth slightly agape, his hand extended in the same posture I have rejected, an inscrutable expression on his face as he stares at me. When I do nothing but gawk at him, he raises his eyebrows.

I scowl at him, immediately defensive, "What?"

Neal is taken aback by my tone. He slowly lowers his hand, his eyes flickering between his arm and mine. Neal is not a fool. It's blatant that he has noticed my reluctance in even accidently touching him. I swallow the sudden nervousness.

"Come on, let's go." I say, dismissing our awkward encounter. Neal says nothing and continues to walk too. The silence is not so pleasant anymore. So much for appreciating our lack of communication.

A therian aura in the corridor we are about to turn into distracts me from my thoughts. But I quickly dismiss that too since therian auras in this place are hardly a rarity. As we turn into the corridor in which are room resides, we find our steps immediately halting.

Mikhail Lichinsky, or the old man I have presumed to be Mikhail Lichinsky, has similarly come to a standstill at our sight. His face is stoic, something I am accustomed to around my father. His dark eyes, however, are much more piercing than my father's. I did not think I will ever meet a person who can be more dangerous than my father. But watching my supposed grandfather stare down at me; yes, he is taller than me; is unnerving in a way that I cannot fathom. All the hatred that I have come to feel for this person is turning into unexplainable fear in his presence, under his scrutiny. It was only on the first day the man had set eyes on me; something to which I had reacted by averting my eyes. Right now, watching him stand impassively in front of us, all thoughts of my partner and the brief awkward moment we shared escapes my mind. All I can focus is, how much darker and more threatening the eyes of my grandfather are, even more so than my father's.

"May I have a word with you Josh?" He speaks, looking at me.

His sudden request is out of the blue. It's the first time I am hearing him speak and I can confidently conclude that his grey hair and the numerous wrinkles on his face do not at all affect his stance. His voice is deep and firm and doesn't at all indicate his age. For a man this old; he has to be in his sixties at least; I expect the voice to be slightly gravelly if not exactly a quivering mess. But, no, Mikhail Lichinsky's voice is as strong and as deep and as firm as someone who has just hit puberty. Of course, with a more threatening edge to it. As for his request, which sounds more like an order by the way, my rebellious side is instinctively ready to be a snappy and a quick-witted grandson.

I have imagined this scenario numerous times in my free time and every time the scene fades away with me pointing out all the things because of which this man has no right on me, all the things that simply makes the both of us strangers. The scene ends with a dejected looking old man repenting over his failed relationship with his grandson.

Coming back to the present, the scenario is much more different with me literally petrified at the spot under the old man's gaze. The thought of being slightly disrespectful towards him makes me internally whimper like a frightened puppy. All I am able to manage is absently stare back at the man, who reflects many features of my father.

"Err," Neal breaks the too awkward air, "I am going to excuse you guys." He says politely. I tear my gaze away from my grandfather and look at Neal. He nods at me, his face as impassive as my grandfather's, yet, unlike my grandfather, Neal manages to convey million words of comfort through his staidness. Neal looks at Mikhail Lichinsky once, then turns around and departs back to the way we have just come.

"Follow me." Mikhail Lichinsky says as soon as the silence gets too awkward after Neal's departure.

Mute, I follow him. He leads me through the length of the corridor, towards the staircase. I realize he is intending to take me upstairs, probably to his chamber. Not that I know his chamber is upstairs, it's just a guess. I turn back one last time as Neal's aura steadily fades from my senses. He is standing at the other end of the corridor, surprisingly with Jennifer on his side. The sight of her makes me momentarily hesitate in my steps. I have noticed that she never approaches Neal when I am around. That means she has not accosted him since that party a few weeks ago because I hardly leave Neal's side. At least inside the mansion, I don't. The fact that she is probably avoiding an encounter with me regarding my partner just adds to her sneaky behavior, something I feel loathing derision for. She better not have more words up her sleeve to brain wash Neal. Neal catches my eye in the distance but soon turns them back towards his aunt as she gestures for him to accompany her. Without any acknowledgments, I turn back and start ascending the staircase.

Thoughts of Neal escape me as I observe the broad shoulders of the old man walking in front of me. I have to admit that despite the old age Mikhail Lichinsky has a voluminous, healthy built. As a matter of fact the age wrinkles and gray hair are probably the only things that give any indication of his age. Through a series of corridor, we end up in front of enormous double doors. Like every other door in the mansion this is similarly built in mahogany wood with various historical imbrications forming its frame. Somebody is a fan of the renaissance time. Or maybe, just maybe, this mansion has taken its origin during those old times.

Mikhail opens the door, which makes a clang sound as they slide wide open. The old man walks inside, motioning for me to shut the door behind me. I comply and step inside his room. The room is similar in size to my and Neal's room. The whole length of one wall is covered with a huge bookcase which is not surprising considering my father has his own library as well. The windows are panoramic as opposed to my room's modest windows. Everything else is built up in plain taste but with the addition of the infrastructure of this mansion the room looks quite opulent. It almost reminds me of Neal's room in his house back in Latvia.Only, this is larger in size.

"Sit." Mikhail says, gesturing towards one of the regal couches in the corner.

I comply. The air feels tensed to me. I wish Neal is around, so I can calm myself with the help of his aura. Mikhail walks to the nearby small table which I can only assume to be extemporaneous dining table with only two chairs around it. He picks up the jug that is on the table and fills a tall glass of water. He grabs the glass and looks at me, thrusting the glass in my direction.

"Thanks." I say quietly, shaking my head to let him know I am all good.

Mikhail minutely shrugs and drains the water in the glass himself. He picks up the chair then and brings it right in front of me, two steps away, placing it with a dull thud there. Nonchalantly, he settles on the chair, facing me while sitting straight right in front of me. I awkwardly shuffle a little, the scenario oddly reminding me of my viva voce examinations in school.

"You haven't been talking to your father." He states, unfalteringly staring at me.

For a fleeting moment I feel irked that my father would go and bawl to his father about his kid. But then I hold back my thoughts. My father may not be very expressive or talkative but that doesn't mean I do not know him well. And I can almost assuredly state my father is not at all the kind of person who will discuss a matter pertaining to me with anybody else, not even his own father. Father is not the type to discuss such personal problems anyway. Also, again, I am sure my father takes my silence as some sort of a temper tantrum rather than a serious threat. Which is kind of true to some extent, to be honest. Because angry at him or not, I cannot imagine my future without my father at my side, even if mute. And that makes me wonder how my father has conjured the courage to leave his own father behind when he left this realm. This Realm being weird or not, a home is always one's home and a father is always one's father.

"Why did he leave this place?" the question, the conclusion of my jumbled thoughts, slips my tongue involuntarily. I immediately shut my mouth, regretting my forward curiousness.

"For his own safety." Mikhail answers without hesitation as if my question is insignificant. "And for the safety of his then building family." He pauses, "Is that all why you're not talking to him?"

"Safety from what?" I counter.

For a moment, Mikhail only stares at me, making me realize that I probably shouldn't counter back in such a tone. I internally squirm for a second.

Mikhail leans forward, his palms resting on his knees.His spine, despite him leaning forward, manages to look absolutely straight, "If I had an option to keep Nikolai oblivious of the ill luck our family has endured in the past, I, too, may probably choose that option. Nothing is better than living your life in peaceful, blissful ignorance."

"But-" I start.

"But." Mikhail thunders, immediately making me shut up, "But you're not completely oblivious. Nikolai doesn't discuss his disposition with you. But I have guessed that he doesn't enjoy your curiosity so much. Nikolai has done things in his life that I cannot be more proud of; but I do not always support his decisions. And considering the predicament that has made all of you return to this Realm, unlike your father, I feel that you should be informed of the situation. Before the more hasty decisions are taken in regard to your partner."

This time I do not say anything. For the first time since I am here, probably for the first time in my whole life till now, there is someone who is offering satiation for my endless questions. I am not being simply coddled, kissed and ignored like my mother does. I am not being straight forwardly refused, like my father does. I am not being chided for always wickedly trying to grasp information, like Terry uncle chides. And I am not being asked to stay ignorant of things around me, like Rufina aunt has been doing. For the first time, my grandfather, whom I don't even know, is telling me that he will enlighten me of something that I have been dying to know probably since the day I learnt to speak. Mikhail Lichinsky may radiate diluvian amounts of superiority but he is not looking at me like I am a kid. I vaguely realize that he probably talks to everyone with this same superior stance. After a considerable amount of seconds pass in silence, I safely decide that Mikhail is offering me the chance to speak now. I clear my throat.

"Um, may I ask something?" I question, deciding to remain in the safe province by questioning to put forth my question.

"Yes."

"Why now? It's been more than three weeks since I have been here. Why did you decide to talk to me now?"

Mikhail's left eye twitches as if the question couldn't have irked him more. He impassively (and quite threateningly) stares at me for a long moment.

"Your curiosity is always in the wrong places." He says, still stoically looking at me.

Now my left eye twitches at that and I wonder if my hypothesis that my father is not gossiping about me behind my back is true or not. Because that oddly sounds like how my father would complain.

"Has dad been talking to you about me?" my tone comes out quite childish, almost whiny.

Mikhail's stare hardens at my implication, "Your father is not a girl." He states in a calm tone but his eyes are betraying his collected posture.

Oh well. I suppose my grandfather and father are much more alike than I have been anticipating.

"You didn't answer me." I remind Mikhail in as much placid tone as I can.

"Why I didn't approach you before?" he asks, slightly tilting his head, his eyes still steadfastly fixed upon me.

"Yes." I manage to squeak. I believe my question is legitimate so I cannot fathom why my grandfather is being all uppity about it. Maybe he is much older to still believe that younger people have no right to question the elders.

"Did you approach me?" he asks.

I falter at the unexpected question. Did I approach him? Certainly not. I was too busy brooding over why my grandfather has not visited me. I shake my head at him, almost timidly, though a part of me still believes that Mikhail should have been the one to approach me first.

"Why not?" he asks at my refusal.

I feel myself blanch at the question. What do I say to him? That I was being a bratty kid and playing revenge games in my mind by not approaching him? But then I think of all the reasons that has been making me feel down in the dumps since I am here, focusing on the highlight of those reasons.

"You're just a stranger for me." I tell him, my voice slightly wavering.

"So are you for me." he replies calmly. "So, why do you think it is alright to question my decision of not contacting you when you haven't been any different than me regarding this particular subject?"

I swallow the invisible lump in my throat, "It's not the same." I mutter, feebly arguing back. "I didn't even know of your existence before I came here."

"Neither did I."

I blink at him in shock, "You didn't?" I frown.

Mikhail sighs, "If I were in contact with Nikolai in these past twenty years then I am sure you would have known about me. You sound nosy as it is, so I do not suppose Nikolai could have managed to hide me. But Nikolai and I have not been in contact, not even once. I cannot comprehend how he could have informed me of my grandson. I have to say I was surprised. When Nikolai informed that his child is the partner of the vaticinator, I automatically assumed you to be a girl."

I feel warmth creeping on my face but then I subtly roll my eyes, "People here sound oddly homophobic."

"Do not form judgments with half mind." Mikhail snaps, his voice roaring in the empty room. His raised voice makes my ear turn from pink to beet red.

My eyes immediately get averted from his glaring face and I end up scrutinizing the almost invisible specks of dust on the marbled floor. I feel slightly surprised at my own impetuous remark. Not because I should have known it will offend the mighty Mikhail, but because....because just like Neal, I somehow ended up indicating Neal and I to be gay. I didn't reason that partners don't necessarily have a romantic disposition, therefore the gender doesn't matter. I straight away riposted to something that I found offensive. Something that I shouldn't feel offended about. I risk a glance at Mikhail, peeking at him through my lashes. He is sitting straight, unblinkingly glaring at me. His offensive posture makes me avert my eyes again. This time my eyes travel to the far corner of the room on my right side, towards the end of the panoramic window. My heart immediately skips a beat at the sight.

A person, a silhouette from where I can see, is standing in the corner. Despite the bright light flowing shamelessly through the window panes, this particular corner is slightly darkened, making it difficult for me to make out the silhouette or even guess since when it is there. I sense no aura from the silhouette.

"What the hell..." I mutter, motioning to stand up, "Who is it?" I ask loudly, now completely standing up and looking at the corner.

In my peripheral view, I sense Mikhail emotionlessly turning towards where I am looking. As soon as Mikhail's eyes reach the corner....the silhouette vanishes.

It just vanishes. Into thin air.

I blink.

"What is it?" Mikhail demands, standing up too and looking at the corner I am staring at. I am completely flummoxed.

"I saw..." I trail off, furiously frowning at the now empty corner. Am I imagining things?

"What?" Mikhail's thundering voice breaks through my stupor and I turn to look at him. Only to find a man standing right behind Mikhail.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim, my heart skipping several beats at the sudden sight of that man.

Surprising me, Mikhail adroitly turns to look behind him. The strange man is faster. He raises his bare hand to land a solid punch across my grandfather's face. Apparently, Mikhail is faster. In speed that I cannot imagine to achieve at such old age, Mikhail caught the hand of the man, restricting his onslaught. The man doesn't rest though. He lifts his other hand only to have it in Mikhail's grasp again. He doesn't allow the man to attack with his legs either. Mikhail swiftly, too swift for his age, entangles the leg of his attacker and twists his arm backwards to prevent an attack. The man, now completely immovable in Mikhail's grasp is facing the panoramic window now, away from me.

"Josh, get out!" Mikhail orders, not at all loosening his grip on the man. "Get your father."

I am so stunned that it takes me several seconds to grasp his order.

"Now." he booms, probably sensing that I am still rooted to my place.

As I motion to move out, the man in Mikhail's grasp starts laughing.

The reaction is so unexpected that I find myself rooted to my place again. I quickly go through their posture. Mikhail is completely overpowering the man. Why is the man laughing then? I don't like the guesses in my mind.

"Good old days, Lichinsky." The man speaks in a raspy voice which goes oddly with his appearance. He doesn't look a day above thirty. Though he seems to be wearing rag, old fashioned clothes. The man turns halfway, so he can look at Mikhail through his peripheral vision, "You're getting old. So old? That you forgot to tell me about yourgrandson?" he drags out the last two words.

"Josh, go." Mikhail orders in a firm voice. This time I do turn away.

I hear the man laughing as I make a bee line for the door.

"You're forgetting a lot of things, Lichinsky." I hear the man guffawing.

And suddenly the laughter stops. I am almost at the door. I do not turn back, knowing too well that the sight will probably make me procrastinate more. I don't know who that man is but if he is ready to hurt Mikhail then I will definitely not count him in good books. I hastily step out of the room and face another arrhythmic beating of my heart as I am forced to stop dead in my tracks. I cannot believe my eyes. Through invisible air a fine mist appears, almost smoke like and within a second the man is standing right in the corridor outside the door I have just exited. I am way too flummoxed. While I force my heart to slightly calm down, I observe the man. He stands an inch or two shorter than me, wearing very, very old clothes, dark in color. He possesses dark chocolate hair that falls to his shoulder with a center parting that makes him look extremely dorky, if anything. Thick stubble on his face contrasts vividly against his extremely pale skin, matching the darkness shadowing under his eyes. He is not laughing now but staring straight-faced at me. Instinctively, I feel my right hand turning into a claw, my skin fluxing to provide me the strength and sharpness I am seeking. The man looks at my arm once and then looks at me, almost bored.

"Seriously?" He says in a monotone.

Before any of us could however make any move, Mikhail comes right beside me.

"Go." He says to me quietly.

I hesitate but once I notice Mikhail's shoulders fluxing, I start moving sideways.

I take only one step to escape and the time span for that lone step alone is all it takes for both Mikhail and that man to lunge at each other. It is astounding because both the men have taken upon animal forms in that extremely brief time and have also attacked. Surprisingly both have taken feline forms, with Mikhail, whose legs still seem to be in the process of fluxing, has taken the form of an oversized cheetah. On the other hand, the other man is now a saber-tooth tiger whose canines are quite longer than on the actual animal. I watch, petrified, as both the animals snap at each other, trying to lunge at each other's throat. It's almost enthralling to see that Mikhail at such an age is as swift as this...this...whatever this man is.

Roars fill the corridor with animal bodies clashing against the walls, making the side tables and decoration items shake in fright, some of them falling to the ground as their astoundingly fast fight escalates. So fast, that I face trouble in grasping their moves. I do notice when Mikhail successfully sinks his teeth in the tiger's shoulder, making the latter growl, almost impatiently.

That's enough for me. I turn around to go and look for anybody, to inform them of this horrendous event that has started taking place out of nowhere. I run for a few feet, the raging roars still emanating in the background. However, I am forced to stop again as a white mist again takes reformation just a few feet ahead of me. I instantly pause, my momentum making me take a few more steps in the forward direction than I would have liked. As the form of the tiger starts forming, I, confounded, look behind me to see Mikhail's cheetah growling and snapping at empty air. After an instant I realize that he is expressing anger at not having this man in his grasps. I am standing almost midway between the both animals, my own arms fluxed into talons. The tiger roars at me and then charges, running in my direction. I take a step back out of instinct. At my back, I can both hear and sense Mikhail's aura running towards me with double the speed of the tiger. Only a foot away and I instantly move out of the way of both the animals.

Mikhail was prepared for the collision, the tiger was not. So for a few seconds Mikhail overpowers the tiger while I jump on the side table because all the space in the corridor is being occupied by these raging animals. Being on the table is not a very good move either since both of them are constantly snapping and making the other hit something, anything. So it's no surprise that the table wobbles and the candelabra falls off it as both the animals haphazardly lunge at each other. I sense more auras at the end of the corridor instantly making me look there. There, standing at the end are Terry uncle and my father, and two of the thirteen council members, one of which is Dr. Pleve. They all look horrified. I can only imagine the scene from their point of view. A tiger and a cheetah in a furious sparring and a seventeen year old kid with talons for hands precariously standing over the table top along the edge of the corridor. I watch as the council members and Terry uncle start darting towards us. Father however turns on his heels and escapes.

Escapes?

What the hell?

Though I am furiously frowning at my father's empty space in the distance, I don't however get time to ponder over it much. As the council members and Terry uncle draw near the fight becomes even vicious. The tiger seems almost annoyed that Mikhail is not allowing him an open escape and is keeping him excessively busy by indulging in ferocious battle.

"Stop it!" Dr. Pleve thunders, exuding as much authority as he can. His voice falls on deaf ears. Even the other council member and Terry uncle do not pause. Terry uncle has indeed himself started to flux into an animal form as he is approaching.

After that it's total chaos.

Not because now there are four people fighting, but because that strange man, who has taken the form of a tiger, becomes absolutely difficult to handle. Taking advantage of his unique teleporting abilities, I watch, almost in awe, how quickly the man's animal form disintegrates and is behind Mikhail in an instant. Terry uncle, now an odd sight with half human, half animal features, lunges at the tiger only to have his muscly arms pass right through thin air. The tiger has teleported again, now on the side with the council member at his back who also looks ready to engage in battle. It's just a combination of animals, or human-animal hybrids, snapping at empty air as the tiger teleports with speed, being at one angle in one second and the other in the next second. I am so engrossed by the scene that I let my guard completely down.

It only takes half a second for a mist to form beside the table I am standing on. By the end of that second the table is forcefully toppling over. I feel insulted that someone would think that a simple table turning will put me off. Guard down or not, I am a mature therian, with exceptionally good reflexes. I jump in the air and land gracefully on the floor, the turned table collapsing right beside me. I expect the man to be standing near the table, since that's where I saw the mist, but I find only air at that position. I do not even realize when somebody grasps my hand, twisting it back. The person makes me turn around and bangs my back at the nearby wall. It's the man of course, this time in his human form....if he is human. I may just pass him being a spiritual therian. But the fact that I can see him as a whole human, without any animal part, and still sense no aura inevitably makes him something that we are not.

He has his elbows crossed at my neck, his palms keeping my talons at bay. He crookedly grins at me for a second.He doesn't realize that getting my back banged against something is what I absolutely despise. With reflexes, I free my hand and grasp his, twisting it in the process and making it turn over at his back.

"Oh ho ho," the man chortles as the other people realize that the man has me cornered. Or rather I have him cornered, since I have his elbow twisted at his back. "Your boy knows how to fight, Lichinsky." He adds in a sneer, probably looking at the cheetah, who deeply growls at him and ferociously charges.

The man has other plans, as he vanishes instantly from my grasp. I curse, as Mikhail's cheetah's canines stop only inches from me. I take a step back and look where the man has taken form again, only to find Terry uncle now initiating a spar with the man who took form right next to him. All of us move to enclose the man and Terry uncle.

It oddly feels like a game of Tom and Jerry.

Another round of sparring continues, with Mikhail and the other council member trying to get a grip on the man as he fights Terry uncle. Though I do not know what catching the guy will entail. He will simply vanish again. What's the point? Dr. Pleve and I stay on the outer circle, keeping an alert eye on the commotion. I watch as the man, who has fluxed only his nails for now, harshly scrapes them against Terry uncle's arm, making Terry uncle grunt and lunge for his throat. The man is not happy as he growls and vanishes yet again, taking form outside the circle we all are trying to confide him in. The five of us look at the man as he darts his eyes around us, probably thinking of whom to attack first. Before any of us can follow an action of plan, a metal weapon...a knife...no, a sword, passes through the man's shoulder, the ephemeral swishing sound before it struck being the only warning.

The man cries out in pain, making me wince in surprise. He hasn't reacted much at all to whatever pain we have been inflicting on him, if we have inflicted pain at all. The...sword through his shoulder however makes him collapse on his feet, his pain filled eyes darting towards the abused shoulder. In the distance, I see my father in a posture that suggests that he has thrown the sword at this man. Pretty good aim, I glumly think. If missed, it would have probably made way to any five of us. Father jogs up to us. Terry uncle towers over the man. The man tries to get hold of the sword to probably remove it, which is difficult since the handle of the sword is at the man's back. Terry uncle catches the sword's handle first and twists it.

I grimace as another pain filled cry fills the corridor, at the edges of which I can sense even more therian auras approaching.

"Oh, God." Anastasia says as soon as she reaches us, slightly panting which suggests she has probably run towards here.

Terry uncle grunts and picks up the man, the sword still plunged in his shoulder. The man grunts, but Terry uncle only puts more force on the sword.

"How the hell do you have this?" Pleve questions, glaring at the sword merged with the offensive man's skin.

"Is that the question you have?" Father snaps, stoically glaring at Pleve.

"I have a better one." Mikhail's voice booms in the corridor.

I turn around to find my grandfather in his human form, absolutely stark naked, and absolutely unabashed as he proudly stands and glares at the steadily increasing population in the corridor. He pointedly looks at whatever council members are present, significantly eyeing each of them.

"Who the hell summoned the Ninth Occultist?"

  19. The Unforeseen Disappearance

"Would he know who summoned the Occultist?" Anastasia asks, tilting her chin towards the man with the sword through his shoulder. He is slumped in one corner of Mikhail's room, the nearest room from the commotion that just took place. Sweat beads mark his forehead and his breath is coming out in short gasps of pain. Terry uncle is still towering over him, his hands loosely grasping the handle of the sword that is piercing the man's skin. Father is standing next to Terry uncle, stoically eyeing the man on the ground. The man, however, has his eyes fixed on my grandfather. Mikhail is thankfully now wearing trousers. He is dabbing what I am guessing to be alcohol on a lone scratch on his upper bicep.

"No." Mikhail answers. "The Occultist's presence simply opens a portal for him to visit this place. But he cannot know who desires the Occultists' presence."

"Alright." Anastasia says, funnily eyeing my grandfather as if she is not pleased that he is aware of something that she is not. But Mikhail is quite old and hence, ought to be more knowledgeable. Therefore, my ratiocination indicates that she is probably upset that Mikhail doesn't have them informed of this particular fellow and his alleged presence whenever they require their Occultist.

"The Occultist is not there." One of the council members, whose name I do not remember, says. He is shutting off the cell phone he had been engaged in. "Julian says the field has no sign of the Occultist." He continues hesitatingly, putting his cell phone back in his pocket.

Anastasia frowns, "But this man is still here." She says, eyeing the man on the floor in the corner.

"The scimitar makes him human." Mikhail simply says as if that makes sense.

It apparently does because Anastasia nods, "So the man shall compulsively disappear when the scimitar is withdrawn?"

"He shall. But I cannot say how long it takes for the compulsion to overpower. So I am not certain of his actions upon removal of the scimitar."

"So, the man-"

"I have a name, youngling." The man snaps at Anastasia. Terry uncle responds by putting pressure on the sword, making the man lean over and grunt in pain.

"We should not hurt him." Anastasia says, making my family look at her as if she's insane.

Pleve is quick in standing by Anastasia, "Ana is right. The man belongs to our Occultist. We shouldn't hurt him. In fact, we should let him go."

"If I pull this out of him." Terry uncle says, twisting the sword's blade for emphasis, "He will not take a second in snapping our necks."

"Your necks." Pleve corrects, glaring at Terry uncle.

"No." the man on the ground speaks, "Only the necks of these two fellows." He says, even in pain managing to sneer at my father and I. "I will harm no one else if you let go of me." he continues, gazing at Anastasia.

Pleve actually seems to be considering the proposal.

"We respect you as our Occultist's servant." Anastasia responds, unwavering, "But we cannot allow you to harm anybody belonging to this Realm. Not unless they commit treachery and the Occultist declares them unfit for the living of others. So, I decline your proposal. However, I will make sure that you're free of the scimitar," she eyes the sword, "If you leave the Realm without harming anyone."

"Is that a threat?" the man boringly replies.

"An accord." Anastasia corrects, "We do not threaten the belonging of the one who protects us."

His gaze darting between my father and I makes me be on edge instantly. I wish for Neal to be around. With so many people, he'll speak less, which will be a bonus. And I'll get to bask in his aura and calm myself a little. It's bizarre to notice how accustomed I have become to his presence. Without his aura, even this tiny bit of tension seems to be weighing me down.

"Who is he?" I mutter. Considering I am standing nearest to Mikhail, I expect him to answer. But since everyone in the room is a therian, everyone hears me and turn to look at me.

"Jermaine." Mikhail answers monotonously. "He is our occultist's sycophant."

"And so we should set him free." Pleve interrupts.

Anastasia looks at Jermaine, "Do I have your word?"

Jermaine, though smug, is looking very much in pain. He briefly nods, glaring at my grandfather. Anastasia looks at Mikhail for confirmation. Mikhail responds by a similar brief nod. Terry uncle sighs, looking the most upset by the turn of events.

"You make a wrong move and next time this will go through your heart." Terry uncle grunts, muttering in the man's ear and putting emphasis on the sword.

Jermaine simply smirks, "Younglings like you...always the impetuous ones. You cannot kill a witch's sycophant."

"I'd like to see you try me." Is Terry uncle's dry reply.

Agonizingly slow, Terry uncle removes the sword, which is being called the scimitar by everyone. Upon its removal, Jermaine gives one glance in Mikhail's direction and vanishes into thin air. Everybody is on edge for several moments, expecting the man to reform anywhere. But he doesn't reappear, indicating good riddance. The sword, which is actually a scimitar sword now that I see, is drenched with blood in Terry uncle's hand. Else, I do not see anything special about it. It's just a plain sword.

"We will investigate into who summoned the Occultist, Mr. Lichinsky." Anastasia says to Mikhail.

"And ensure she is not summoned in the imminent future." Mikhail grunts and starts walking towards his closet, beside the bed. "I need to talk to my family." He declares loudly to everyone else present in the room.

"Of course." Anastasia says but then hesitates, "Mr. Lichinsky, do you demand a stoppage on the sycophant's-"

"I demand nothing." Mikhail interrupts, his tone and stance calm. He turns and nods once at Anastasia.

Anastasia sighs and nods in return, "Then the council will look into who summoned the Occultist. I propose a meeting in half hour in the grand room."

"Actually," the council member who had been on phone regarding the Occultists' presence spoke, "We have a suspect."

Everybody in the room looks at him like he has two heads.

The man doesn't waver and continues to speak, "Julian said that the field has no sign of the Occultist, but he did catch sight of a therian out there. He said he is bringing her here."

"Did he give a name?" Anastasia asks.

The man looks at Mikhail and then at my father, "She is not a member of this realm, if that is any hint." He says in a bitter tone.

"Jennifer?" father asks in a monotone.

"That bitch." Terry uncle curses.

"Wait, what?" I speak up, somehow the flow of things being too fast for me.

"She doesn't even have any right to summon our Occultist." A council member, suspiciously sounding like Ser Daeve, speaks up.

"Julian is getting her here?" Anastasia asks the man sternly.

"Yes." He acquiesces. "We shall gather in the grand room. And," he turns at Mikhail, "you may want to postpone your family meeting."

"Alright-" Anastasia speaks up again.

"No, wait." I say loudly, making everyone look at me. "Julian is only getting Jennifer back?"

"She is the one who summoned the Occultist. She was the only one out there." The man replies.

"No." I say, "No," I repeat quietly, "Neal...Neal, he went with her." I say absent mindedly, while I fumble with my pocket to take out my cell phone.

"Went with her?" father demands.

"Yes. I saw him leaving with her last." I again reply in a daze as I start dialing Neal's number.

"We should gather in the grand room." Anastasia says, "I am sure Neal is fine."

But I have already tuned her out. I put the phone to my ear, waiting for Neal's ringtone to go off on the other end. But I am only greeted by a monotonous lady's voice informing me that the cellphone I am trying to reach cannot be connected at the moment. That is never a good sign. I curse and dial his number again. I hear shuffling behind me, but I do not take account of what is being talked about. I only notice when one by one the therian auras start moving out of Mikhail's room. In the end only my father's, Terry uncle's and Mikhail's aura remain behind as I continue to dial Neal's phone number.

"I'll go and check on him." I announce when the call fails to connect.

"Why not we check on Jennifer first?" father says.

"I don't care about Jennifer." I say in a duh tone.

"Forget about everything." Mikhail says in an affirmative tone, making both father and I turn and look at him. Mikhail has managed to wear a shirt now as well. "I want the three of you to go and collect the whole family. Get your things packed and take no more than an hour."

I frown at him, "Packed for what?" I ask, "I need to find Neal first-"

"Did I not just say to collect the whole family?" Mikhail snaps. "To get Neal, you'll have to find him. Go and do that. And get the rest too."

"Are we leaving?" I ask, momentarily faltering in my steps.

"Yes."

"I knew from the start it was bad idea coming here." Terry uncle mutters.

"Do not fret over spilled milk. Now get lost. I'll go and check on the meeting." Mikhail says.

"I think I should accompany you." Father says to Mikhail, "Jennifer is our guest. I think I should be there."

"No."

"Father-"

"I said, No, Nikolai." Mikhail repeats with no room for discussion. I never thought I'll ever see my father turning mute in front of anyone. "Get your family together. You need to leave."

"Why do we have to leave?" I say as we start moving outside.

Mikhail momentarily falters in his steps at my question, "Do you want a repeat of what just occurred, boy?"

He doesn't wait for my response and exits his room. I also increase my pace, thinking of searching in our room for Neal first. But as soon as we step out of the room, the sight of Rufina aunt briskly walking towards us, looking alarmingly disturbed, makes all of us stop. Instantly, I feel something heavy getting heavier inside me; so heavy that it seems to be moving down and down towards my stomach owing to the gravity. A tensed Rufina aunt is never a good indication.

"Did you hear-" she starts in haste.

"We know." Father says, walking ahead and calmly stopping her, pacifyingly placing a hand on her shoulder. "But Jennifer is not the priority right now. We need-"

"Not Jennifer!" Rufina aunt exclaims. "I am talking about Neal."

"What?" father and I ask in unison.

"The council is talking to Jennifer right now. I overheard them. She...she gave Neal to the Occultist!"

I take a moment to understand what she is trying to convey. But eventually, I do not understand what she is saying. So, I ask, "What do you mean that she 'gave' him?"

Father's hand on my shoulder makes me realize that I have used quite an antagonizing and loud tone with my aunt.

"We should go to the meeting." Aunt says, backtracking towards from where she came.

I immediately start walking, right on her heel. My father, however, remains back. I turn to find him watching Mikhail. The latter is standing, stoic as always, yet looking somewhat tired.

"I am getting too old for such drama." He grunts and then walks past my father, who oddly seems to be sympathizing with his father. All with lack of words. Mikhail joins steps with me and we walk down the length of the corridor towards the grand room. My heart is literally thundering in my chest. I still do not understand more than half of the things occurring around me. But the thought of my partner being in some sort of a danger is highlighting above anything else. We have been formulating plans to protect him from the First Occultist. I do not even know what any other Occultist may want to do with him. Or maybe I do. I have just been too blind and believed only First Occultist to be a threat.

When we enter the grand room, the conference table is lined by almost all the council members. Julian, the middle aged member, is standing right next to Jennifer. Jennifer is sitting in a chair in the center of the room, right in front of the conference table. When our horde enters, the council meeting goes quiet. They wait for us to join. Mikhail walks up to his designated seat on the council table. The rest of us sit down on the edges. I glare at Jennifer. She doesn't turn to look in our direction. She looks dejected, almost mourning. But I will not be fooled by her demeanor again.

"Alright," Anastasia speaks as we all settle down. She looks at Jennifer, "You forgot one tiny detail when you handed over Neal to the Occultist. Neal has a partner and you shouldn't have-"

"He is not Neal's partner." Jennifer snaps bitterly.

"Whatever I am," I say loudly, "I at least don't hand over Neal like he is a ragged doll. So don't be all uppity about who is good for Neal and who is not. Keep your fucked up opinions to yourself." I feel such blinding rage as the whole situation starts dawning at me. I look at Anastasia, "What exactly happened?"

Anastasia hesitates, "We are just aware of the fact that Jennifer summoned our Occultist and offered the vaticinator to her. We were getting to the reasons."

"You better have a good one." My father says, impassively staring at Jennifer.

Jennifer looks at all of us sitting at the edge. She has some galls to look at us in a demeaning manner. But then guilt comes up on her face. She turns at the council members, "I did it for my safety."

"Elaborate." Mikhail says. For a moment, a few council members look at him as if to interrupt him. I realize that as my grandfather, he has no right to speak as a council member in regard to my partner's business. Yet, nobody voices anything against Mikhail. Despite looking stoic, it's not tough to make out that he is pissed.

"The Occultists can find us through our auras." Jennifer says, "Being a protector...I have faced instances when I encountered the First Occultist."

"And you failed to mention that to us." Terry uncle grunts, "I knew this bitch couldn't be trusted."

"Please, do not interrupt while she speaks." Anastasia says, then nods at Jennifer to continue.

"I still do not know how come the First Occultist caught my trace, but she did. The first time I encountered the First Occultist, Neal was very young, around eleven or twelve. Since the occultist always has the intention of finding the vaticinator, her approach to me usually happened when Neal was never around. The first time it happened, she inquired me about the vaticinator. Information to which I declined, by lying that the vaticinator's present existence is unbeknownst to me. Knowing that my presence may probably cause Neal's discovery...I shifted to a newer, neighborhood country, letting Neal stay on his own. As long as no one knew he exists, he is safe. Even if someone got the whiff that he exists, then also they cannot find him if they kept that as an intention. Latvia is almost scarce in therian population, anyways. But of course I did find ways to contact Neal at intervals of few months. The First Occultist caught on my sneaky behavior and demanded that I tell her the truth...she was not polite." Jennifer swallows as she continues, "I gave in and told her that I suspect that the vaticinator has taken birth. And that I am trying to get to the vaticinator through an oblivious person. I could explain David's presence by my last lie. The First Occultist believed me. And she put forth a demand that I hand over the vaticinator to her as soon as I get him. I was hoping that I never meet Neal from that day forth. When Neal called and informed me of the attack at his place," she lifts her head and looks at my father, "I knew that my days of lying to the First Occultist are going by fast. And then I got to know that a member of the First Realm has got to know about the vaticinator. That invariably meant that the First Occultist will know of him soon too. She paid me a little visit before I reached Liepāja. She demanded of me to bring the vaticinator to her, unharmed. Or else she will ensure a not so good life or even a lack of one for David and I."

I feel a hand on my shoulder and judging by the softness, I know it belongs to Rufina aunt. I realize that I have my palms covering my face, my elbows resting on my knees. I am too shocked to learn of this revelation. This woman acted so well, expressing such unwavering concern for Neal, despite their lack of connection and here she is now, offering Neal as bait for her own life.

I do not blame her for being selfish and giving herself more importance than anybody else. I blame her for being pretentious throughout this ordeal, for faking concern, for somewhere making Neal feel that he has an aunt, he has a family.

I think of all the time I have spent in this mansion, all the past three weeks and more days, there have been very few instances when I have left Neal's side. I have especially never left him alone if David or Jennifer has been around. I cannot help but find myself at a little fault. I should have restrained from following Mikhail when I saw Neal with Jennifer. I should have brought Neal with me. There wouldn't have been a big deal if he were to sit through a conversation between myself and my grandfather, even if it is an awkward one.

"All of those high-end preaching over saving Neal from all the other therians." Terry uncle scoffs, "You lying bitch." He mutters, averting his eyes to a different corner, his face expressing infinite amounts of disappointment.

I run a hand down my face, "So...what now?" I ask quietly, to everyone in general, though my eyes are fixed upon the ground. "The Ninth witch will hand over Neal to the First witch?" even to my ears my voice sounds terribly upset. I do not even want to imagine what I must be looking like.

"Ninth Occultist, Josh." Anastasia corrects, frowning, "And I don't suppose she will do that." She says, slightly smiling in sympathy, "We will summon the Ninth Occultist and explain the whole situation of you being Neal's partner."

"We cannot summon her." Mikhail says instantly.

"She will not listen to it." Jennifer says at the same time.

"What did the Ninth Occultist say in regard to Neal? Why did you even call the Ninth Witch?" father asks.

"I didn't want to." Jennifer suspires. "But Neal was hell bent at not leaving with me. And I was not aware of the spell to summon Occultists of other Realms. So I could only summon the Ninth Occultist. At first I explained to her that I needed the First Occultist, to which she did not react well." Jennifer's voice quivers as she explains, "She simply claimed Neal, saying he will work for her now. I tried to coalesce her by informing her of the First Occultist, and at some point I even mentioned Josh, to which even she replied that the vaticinator cannot have a male partner." She glares at me harshly as she finishes.

"Rot in hell, Jennifer." Is my monotonous reply, my eyes burning a hole through her. I cannot believe that even now she is picking on Neal having a male partner.

"This situation," Anastasia speaks up, ignoring me, "can be resolved only if we summon the Occultist and appeal to her."

"Summoning her is out of the question." Mikhail says again in a heartbeat. He gets up from his seat and starts pacing behind the chairs on which all the council members that are present are sitting.

"You have yourself to blame for that." Pleve mutters from the corner he is sitting at.

"I am not going to tolerateyour quips, Pleve. Keep your words in check."

A deafening silence falls after Mikhail says that. Pleve stares back at an apathetic Mikhail, who has paused his pacing to return the stare. Pleve is staring ferociously alright, but even I have seen who is enough daring to jump in a fight and who is more adroit during sparing. Pleve had not motioned to help us when that guy, Jeremiah or Jermaine, whatever, had been attacking us. He was there alright, as his duty called. But he remained only at the periphery of the commotion. It may have been because he doesn't like my family much, but there were four witnesses to notice his lack of participation. As one of the council members, his duty doesn't expect him to let somebody die only because he doesn't like the person.

"I do not think we have any other way to resolve this, Mr. Lichinsky." Anastasia says, "If anybody has any suggestions, we are all ears." She looks at the present council members.

"Why is summoning the Occultist being ill voted for?" a young woman, whose name I haven't learned, asks. She has been absent during the capture and release of Jermaine. Or Jeremiah.

Pleve, who has averted his eyes from Mikhail, quietly snorts, "Ask Mr. Lichinsky." He drawls, "He is the one who committed the mistake all these years back. And now he somehow expects us to help him through every glitch in his life."

"I expect nothing from you." Mikhail says, surprisingly, in a calm tone. "The sycophant of the Occultist has an ill will towards my family." He says to the woman who had raised the question.

"But what do you have to worry about?" Pleve says, in an annoying voice, "You have the scimitar at your back, right? The same one you were supposed to burn in the flames."

"I have to raise this question as well." Anastasia says, turning to look at Mikhail, "The whole Realm believes that the holy scimitar was destroyed in the land of flames. Was that not true?"

"It was in the possession of Nikolai Lichinsky." Pleve adds, accusingly looking at my father.

I frown, not at all understanding the fuss over the sword. Especially when I have my partner in a witch's grasp. I turn my face sideways to see father looking on with a bored look, unaffected by the accusation sprawling at him.

"I do not know where the rumors came from about. I never agreed to let go of the sword, and it is extremely daft of some of you to believe that the flames can destroy it." Mikhail says, "Irrespective, the holy scimitar has always been and still is my property. And as my successor, Nikolai's property as well."

"The scimitar belongs to the Occultists." Pleve sneers.

"Do they?" Mikhail challenges.

"They are wielded from their clothes." Pleve elaborates.

"And all these years back, one of my great ancestors was the one to wield it. Don't tell me who possesses the scimitar. If somebody wants it, they can go and wield one of their own." Mikhail effectively shuts off the topic.

This discussion has made my already confounded mind get even more jumbled up. Is that sword a...supernatural thing?

That would just be the limit of weirdness in my life.

"Mr. Lichinsky," Anastasia starts, "Let's keep the scimitar aside for a moment. Now, of Neal. As a council member, I believe in our Occultist. If she has taken Neal, I do not believe he is in bad hands-"

"Are you kidding me?" I snap, frowning at her.

"Let me finish, Josh." She orders, "Again, I do not believe Neal is in any sort of danger if he is with the Ninth Occultist. If the Occultist makes Neal divine the future, I am sure she will demand the betterment of our realm. Which is not so bad. If not with the Occultist, we would have expected the same of Neal at some point in the near future-"

"Why the hell would you?" I snarl, "He is not your property."

"But he belongs to our Realm." Anastasia says in a tone as if she cannot believe that I am antagonizing her. "You wanted him to belong to this Realm. Now he does. If he were to remain as a permanent residence here then at some point we would expect him to ensure no ill luck over our whole family."

"And why the hell would he permanently live here?" I ask rhetorically. "Did any of us say that he will reside here for the rest of his life?"

Anastasia falters at my accusation. She frowns, "Preventing any sort of bad luck is for what vaticinator exists in the first place, son."

"And Neal didn't ask for this job. He has a life of his own." I snap.

"I knew from the start they are here for selfish reasons." Pleve quips.

"You're one to talk." I riposte to him, "Wanting Neal all to yourselves, so you can improve your freaking Realm."

"Okay, calm down." Father says next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I do not back down from glaring the living daylights out of this Pleve fellow. He has seriously started to tick me off by all his antagonism against my family. "Ana," father says to Anastasia, "Please continue your verdict."

Anastasia sighs, an unhappy frown on her face. She minutely shakes her head, as if getting rid of a bad thought and then continues, "As I said...as a council member, I do not see Neal being with the Occultist as something bad. I am sure other council members agree with me. If not, you may raise your hand now." No council member raises their hand, making me huff in disbelief. Am I the only one to whom the Occultists are represented as something bad? For the members of the Realm they seem like Gods. Everybody blindly believes that Neal is in good hands. No hands reach for the sky and Mikhail remains at the back, forbidden to participate. Anastasia continues when nobody interrupts, "So, the only glitch we are now seeing is that Neal's partner is left behind. I understand how important a partner's presence can be and I sympathize with you, Josh. To remedy the situation, the only possible solution is to summon the Ninth Occultist. Once here, we can put forth the dilemma. I am sure that a discussion with our Occultist will conjure a situation where Josh can have his partner around, and at the same time allow the Occultist to utilize the powers of the vaticinator. The problem you all have with that is the presence of the sycophant, which can also be discussed with the Occultist. Under the Occultist's orders, the sycophant will have no right to harm anybody from this Realm." She pauses for effect and looks at us, "This is the best possible solution." She looks back at Mikhail, "Your family can take the day to ponder over this and decide. Maybe even come up with more solutions if you can think of one. Else, we all will be more than happy to stand by you, while we discuss the situation with our Occultist."

Mikhail is silent for a long moment. He looks at us, then turns back at Anastasia and simply nods. Anastasia smiles and starts dismissing the meeting, assuring me once more that Neal will be alright. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I have given up all hope regarding my expectations from this Realm. Terry uncle interrupts Anastasia's dismissal.

"What about her?" he says, disgustingly pointing at Jennifer.

Anastasia pauses, looking over at Jennifer, "She has committed no serious crime-"

"Are you being serious?" Terry uncle snaps in a loud voice. Anastasia opens her mouth but Terry uncle hastily cuts her off, "You let her loose, I'll kill her myself." He warns. He then effectively gets up and storms away towards the exit of the grand room.

"They let me loose, the First Occultist is going to find me anyway." Jennifer says, looking stoic but it's easy to notice the dejection.

"Serves you right." Terry uncle says one last time before he finally exits.

I decide that I have had enough of this drama. I get up too and follow my uncle outside. Behind me, I sense other auras following me, most probably of my family. When I exit into the corridor outside, I see Terry uncle walking quite ahead of me. Further ahead of him, I am greeted by the sight of my mother and Aakir, worriedly traversing the length in our direction. Terry uncle meets them half way and I immediately hear him start cursing Jennifer. He briefly, very briefly, tells them what has conspired. By the time he is finished telling about Neal, I am right by their side.

Mother, a worried frown on her usually happy face, cradles my face, making me hunch slightly. She kisses my forehead and engulfs me in one of her motherly hugs.

It's this outward display of sympathetic affection that makes me realize the severity of the situation. My already tensed mind goes into over drive. Through the worry filled haze, I realize that the incident we were working so hard to prevent has taken place, only with a different Occultist. I have never met an Occultist in my life, but I have read enough books and heard enough stories from my elders to know that they are not a nice bunch to dream of meeting. So, if the Council of the Ninth Realm expects me to be optimistic by their proposition of summoning the Occultist then they have serious thoughts to ponder over. To put the cherry on the top, Mikhail is as it is against summoning the witch because of some psycho man that I know almost nothing about, and presently, I don't really give a flying fuck about him either. To end the finale, Jennifer has been non hesitant in expressing that even the Occultist believes the vaticinator to have only a female partner. How can the council even expect us to discuss the issue with an already pre-decided Occultist?

But more than anything else, I wish I have the soothing aura of my partner around right this moment. I haven't realized just how much habitual I have made myself of Neal's aura. It is practically impossible to imagine more than a few hours without the pleasant calming effect. The thought of not able to sense his aura is actually making me more and more anxious. Above everything, I yearn to hear a sarcastic remark from somewhere, in a self-assured, overtly confident voice of my partner with the same somehow popping out and saying that it's all a bad joke.

Through my glumness and inability to respond to my mother, I notice that my family has gathered inside Mikhail's room. I do not know how come I am sitting on the couch where I am, but somehow I am sitting here, looking at blurry faces of my family members, whose voices are too far away for me to grasp. I clutch my skull, feeling the sudden need to bang my head against a wall, just so I can concentrate on what the others are saying. Does Neal's aura help me with concentration too? That's unlikely. But considering how helpless I am feeling, I will probably believe every negative thing happening to be due to Neal's absence.

"But calling the witch seems to be the only option!" Is the first thing I hear my concentration snaps back into place. It's Aakir who is speaking, looking almost bewildered with the development of events.

"That can be arranged." Mikhail says, for the first time sounding solemn. "But you all need to leave this Realm first. I'll see what to do about Neal. Don't worry about it. You all need to leave."

"I am not leaving without him." I realize it's I who speaks.

Everybody turns towards me, eyeing me like they are noticing me for the first time and are actually looking sheepish as if they do not want me to eavesdrop. Makes me wonder how long exactly I have been zoning out.

"I was not asking." Mikhail says.

I eye him up for a moment, the room eerily silent. I lick my lips, frowning, "And I wasn't asking for permission either." I say slowly.

"Josh." Father, who has been standing next to the window, gazing outside in deep thought, says in a stern voice at my retaliation. He doesn't turn around to look at me. He simply says my name firmly, hinting that I shouldn't be using an uppity tone. But I am not using an uppity tone. I am simply stating a fact. And why should I anyways take orders from a man whom I have never known before this day?

"...Grandfather," I say, the word absolutely foreign on my tongue, "wants us to leave this place. Why? Because of that psychopath? That's understandable and I am not against the judgment. I am just stating that my partner is of higher priority than a man who is having a field day by teleporting and wasting our time."

"You wouldn't call that a field day when he has your neck snapped backwards. And believe me, the moment he has you cornered, he will not hesitate." Mikhail says to me.

"What did you do to him?" I ask.

Mikhail, who is almost as stoic as father, maybe even more, looks completely taken aback by my question. He is surprised because I have asked such a question or because I have taken such an odd timing, I do not know. If it's the former, he shouldn't look so surprised. I may be tensed and more than half of my mind may be devoted to my partner, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the psychopath man is driven by vengeance. Moreover, Pleve has indicated more than once that Mikhail's plight is due to his own hands.

"Josh." Father speaks. He has turned around, but his glance is not harsh. Even his tone holds softness, as if he is warning that I am stepping into a sensitive zone.

"It's alright." Mikhail interrupts his son. He looks at me, unwaveringly watching me. "Around forty years back, more or less, I had made a wrong decision regarding a treacherous event in which Jermaine was involved. I used to be the sole leader during those times; the council system not yet developed. The accusation and the presence of proof got Jermaine convicted by me. Jermaine is made to live as the undead under the Occultist's wing. He blames me for his horrid, undead life and most of all, for the loss of his hierarchy."

I hesitate. I look at my father, who is watching me while he stands next to the window. Terry uncle and my mother are seated next to me and I notice that my mother is running her hand through my hair. Rufina aunt is standing at a little distance away from Mikhail, with Aakir by her side. The elders look almost dejected at listening to the story. Aakir is however looking up in rapt attention, hearing the event for the first time, just like me. I look at my father.

"That's why you left? Because Jermaine wants to take his revenge on us?" I ask him.

"Yes." Father answers, "It took two attacks, but eventually it drove me out of the Realm. Escaping the risk of encounters became essential once I discovered my partner." He nods at mother.

"You could have told me." I mumble, averting my eyes towards the floor.

"It was not my story to tell." Father says. "Besides I would have liked if you just believed your father and grandfather to be heroes. Of course, the added obliviousness, to not know anything bad, would have been a nice bonus too."

I sigh, "It's time you oldies realize that being oblivious doesn't keep us youngsters happy." Seriously, do none of them realize that we may just handle the situation better if we actually know the whole situation?

"We are quite prideful too, son." Father says.

I hesitate again, "I don't see anything that hits your pride." I tell him honestly.

"He is talking of me." Mikhail says impassively.

"No." Father speaks instantly, "I talk of both of us."

"You did what you had to do to keep our legacy going on."

"But I still left you behind."

"I wouldn't have joined you even if you would have dragged me. And I wouldn't have let you stay even if you begged. Stop demeaning yourself." Mikhail orders.

"How can I?" Father questions, "My absence has made idiotic people like Pleve have a mouth the size of Texas."

I feel mildly surprised to see a hint of irritation on my father's usually stoic face.

Mikhail sighs, "I do not care what people, who do not know the whole story, say. And I thought you're better than someone who is interested in the gossips of the world."

My father subtly rolls his eyes at the jibe, taking me by surprise. He is oddly reacting like how I react during our subtle arguments.

"So," I interrupt their banter, "Your decision to convict Jermaine was wrong?" I ask Mikhail. Making wrong judgment can hit the most hard on people who rely confidently on their intuitions. And Mikhail is one person who doesn't seem the type to consider the opinion of others while making a decision.

"Yes." He replies, admitting his wrongdoing without shame.

I scratch the side of my temple as a moment of silence falls, "I'd love to know what conspired, but my mind is occupied with Neal at the present. What are we doing now?" I ask, dismissing the topic.

"You're doing nothing. All of you gather everyone and leave, at once."

"I said I am not leaving." I repeat.

"Josh," Mikhail says, looking at me with tired eyes, "I will take care of Neal's situation. Now that you know about Jermaine, you should make your family your priority."

"The family can leave. I am not going anywhere."

Mikhail raises and drops his hand in exasperation. He turns away, running a hand down his face, mumbling something about 'teenagers'.

"Supposedly," my father begins, "We do not leave. What is our course of action in regard to Neal?" He asks Mikhail.

Mikhail heaves a sigh and turns towards his son, "I intend to summon the witch, obviously." He mutters. "And for that none of you should be here, because Jermaine is inevitably going to turn up."

"Summon the witch?" I ask rhetorically, "That's your master plan?"

"Josh." Father says sternly, making me shut up momentarily.

"Do you have anything up your sleeve?" Mikhail challenges.

I stutter for a moment, "Calling the witch is not going to solve the problem. Not if whatever I have heard of the witch is true. She will not even listen to us. Besides, you heard Jennifer. Even the witch is convinced that Neal cannot have a male partner. Why would she even listen to us? She won't even count it as a case. Why would she give up on the fortune teller-"

"That is the only way to access Neal." Mikhail emphasizes. "It is not the best option, but we cannot exactly start looking for Neal at the corner benches of the parks. We do not have another option."

I hesitate, "Where is Neal?"

"You mean where the Occultist stays?"

"Yes." I meekly nod.

Mikhail huffs, "Nobody knows where the Occultist remains. Why do you think the witches are summoned? They cannot exactly be approached by knocking on their front door."

A heavy silence endows after that. If possible, I feel myself sink even lower. The constant hand movements of my mother slowly start to escape my notice, but I harness my attention, refusing to zone out and wallow in my depressed thoughts again.

"If we know where the Occultist lives...then?" father raises the question.

Mikhail eyes his son, "The probability of finding that is negligible, son. I am talking from experience."

"Okay..." father says, "I'll rephrase. If we know where Neal is...then what?"

"What are you suggesting?" Mikhail questions.

Father turns towards Aakir who has been silently standing and observing the commotion till then. Noticing the sudden blanket of silence, he raises his head to catch every eye directed in his direction. He raises his eyebrows, in surprise or in gesture towards our glances, I cannot guess.

"Aakir," father begins, attracting his attention towards himself, "You're Neal's astral partner. How long do you think it'll take for you to reach his consciousness?"

Understanding dawns on, not only on Aakir, but on everyone present in the room. Aakir connects his eyes with me for a moment before turning back at father.

"I guess I need a nap before I can answer you."

And suddenly, the day doesn't seem absolutely horrible anymore.

  20. Judgmental Eyes

When Aakir said he'll need a nap, I didn't exactly think him to literally go on a sleeping spree. It has been quite a time since he lay down on Mikhail's bed. Enough time for Mikhail to order all of us to start packing for a leave anyways. I have stood my ground, refusing to give in and agree to leave the Realm. The rest however have left to gather the whole family and collect our belongings. From the talks of my father, he is planning to send the rest of our family away. To where, I didn't focus to learn. There has been a lot of argumentative discussion regarding the issue of leaving, to which my father has firmly responded to ensure the evacuation of the rest of the family. Terry uncle and Rufina aunt are probably going to lead the family out. Mikhail is furious, seeing as how his son and grandson, the main people he wanted out, are remaining back.

Fiddling with my thumbs as I lean my elbows on my knees, I watch Mikhail pacing around the room. He has indirectly hinted that I will not be left alone at any time. The thought annoys me more than anything else. But looking back at a sleeping Aakir, I am glad that I am not alone. My thoughts don't seem to be coming down from the edge. Being alone will only fuel them more. Already my mind is filled with different scenarios in which Aakir will be encountering Neal in their astral forms. It makes me imagine them standing right next to me in the room, which may be a possibility. I wouldn't know of course, because I cannot see them in their astral form; not unless Aakir suddenly decides to flux into an animal. The thought only depresses me more; to know that Neal may be around but I still cannot sense his aura.

"What was Jermaine accused of?" I ask, desperately in need of some sort of distraction.

Mikhail halts his pacing, looking at me, "He had stolen the scimitar." He simply says.

I chew on that for a moment, contemplating to choose between two questions revolving in my mind.In the end, I choose the less complex question. "He hadn't stolen it?"

"He had."

I frown. "Eh...your wrong decision....it was to convict him for this theft?"

"Yes."

"But you're saying that he did steal it."

"Not voluntarily." Mikhail says and then sighs, "As the leader of our Realm, it was my duty to weigh all the pros and cons and then come to a conclusion. I was relatively young and...catching my friend in the act of theft forced me to naivelytake immediate action."

"He was your friend." I mumble.

Mikhail doesn't respond.

I sigh, "So...you caught him stealing....that sword. And you..."

"I immediately summoned the Occultist. She didn't take the scimitar being stolen lightly."

Time for the second question now, "What's so special about that sword?"

Mikhail considers me for a moment, then speaks, "It harnesses a witch's energy."

I nod, like I understand what he is saying. Mikhail discreetly rolls his eyes. But considering I can see it, he isn't being very discreet.

"Around thirty generations back, a battle had taken place amongst the Realms of our world. That dates to around 1500s." Mikhail explains, "It mainly pertained to the authority exhibited by all the Realms. The Occultists...." Mikhail sighs, "They were present when the representatives of the Realms were arguing. Each wanted to exhibit some sort of authority over the other. No one met eyes at the same terms. A battle commenced. Now the battle between therians can be quite gruesome, considering how powerful they are. Not to mention, that the leaders of all the Realms were engaged in fight.Being a leader invariably means more strength and better fighting skills, and hence an even gruesome fight between them. The witches did nothing to prevent it. They only said that the one to bear their energy shall end the fight. They were bluffing from what I could comprehend. They did not have the vaticinator by their side during those times and hence merely provided an anchor for us stupid people to hold on to. And of course we fell for their prediction.

"Our family ancestors have been leading the Realm since time immemorial. Hence, one of them had fought as the leader representative of our Realm. During it, he had somehow managed to grasp the form of the witches, his action fueled by the 'prediction' of the occultists. That witch must have sorely regretted her 'prediction' as no one anticipated that grasping the form of witches is achievable."

"You cannot...touch a witch?" I ask, trying to remember all the basics I have read about the Occultists in all the books.

"An Occultist is simply a vessel of energy. The excessive amount of energy that they contain is mainly utilized by them for their abilities and existence. When our ancestor managed to tear a piece apart from a witch's rag, he obtained a piece of metal junk. The separation of that part of the witch caused a slight pulse in the form of an electric blow to pass over the area. Like a minuscule explosion. But the maximum of the energy expelled by the witch through her 'wound' was suppressed inside that metal that our ancestor obtained. It was no ordinary metal and upon chemical testing over the years, it has been revealed to be a non-existent isotope of iron. An isotope, which actually cannot exist as per the atomic laws. But the weapon has the inherent property of keeping the energy required to maintain that state of the isotope within itself.

"That piece of junk metal was forged into a scimitar by our ancestor, seeing how swords were prevalently used during those times. An actual ceremony had taken place in our Realm for that. The Ninth Occultist had announced our family name to be the protector of the scimitar, to ensure its safety. To ensure that it doesn't fall into wrong hands."

"Ninth Occultist was the witch from whom the scimitar came into existence?"

"No." Mikhail is quick to answer, "It was the Third witch. The Third witch was not pleased. Why would she be, when a part of her was literally torn off. The otherOccultists didn't seem to mind though." Somehow, Mikhail's tone comes out much dry as he says the last sentence.

"So...the scimitar is....an energy filled sword?" I say, not understanding the significance. I mean, come on, we have high end pistols and rifles these days. A sword is not something I would choose during a fight.

Mikhail condescendingly stares at me, "If it could be summarized like that then I don't see why the Occultists would demand its protection. Through all the decades we have tried to establish the importance of this weapon. And we have stumbled upon quite a few specialties."

"Like?"

"Like the one to bear the weapon repels any sort of ill attack towards him."

"Eh..."

"It's like a defense mechanism. The same way in which your partner's existence works. Anybody with the intention of seeking the vaticinator may never find him. Because the vaticinator disposes the kind of energy that will repel your aura that is resulting from the thoughts that seek him. Similarly, the scimitar cannot be found either. And the one bearing it will always repel the one that means to disarm him."

"That's...kind of cool." I admit reluctantly.

"It also contains the power to kill anything that is in its path."

"Um...well, it's a sword, so definitely-"

"Anything." Mikhail stresses.

I falter, remembering Jermaine grunting in pain due to the scimitar. "What is Jermaine?" I ask.

"He is not human, as far as we know. I suppose he is in the steps that will lead to the formation of a wraith."

It's difficult for me to digest any more of paranormal things in my life, but I let this one pass, "And...the scimitar can kill anything, even if it is not...human."

"It possesses the ability to make anything human. As long as the scimitar remained in contact with Jermaine's skin, Jermaine remained human. His abilities of teleportation and the sort disappeared, because those are not borne by his human form. It left him vulnerable, easy to be killed."

I nod at him, frowning as I take in all the information.

"So," I begin again, "Jermaine didn't actually steal it. He was being controlled by someone. By who?"

Mikhail sighs, "I do not know." He grunts, "I have a theory but I am not certain of its proof."

"What theory?"

Our conversation faces a blocker when a therian aura approaches Mikhail's room. Sensing the usual powerful aura, I immediately know it is my father. It has started to make me wonder how I canalways distinguish his aura from the others, considering therian auras are very difficult to secernate. Maybe being his son offers me the privilege of being more sensitive towards his aura. I put this on my mental check list of things to inquire about later.

"Terry and Rufina will lead everyone out in a few minutes. I didn't even ask Roger to drop them. Terry said he'll get a cab in the outskirts." Father informs Mikhail upon entry.

Mikhail grunts, "You both should go too." He says, glancing once at me, "I'll handle this." He waves at the sleeping Aakir.

I do not reply. There is no need. They already know what I'll reply with. The point of objection is Mikhail still continuing to ask me to leave. Father looks at me once and then minutely shakes his head at Mikhail. Mikhail huffs, already expecting this response. He grunts something about looking what the other council members are up to and then he departs. It has become apparent to me that the council members should not know about our escapades. Considering half of them to be mute and the other half to be against us, I do not raise any question regarding the subject.

"How are you feeling?" father asks as soon as we are left alone. His voice is quiet and stoic. As usual. Somehow, I find Mikhail more expressive than his son.

"Anxious." I mutter, fiddling with my fingers again.

Father nods in understanding, "You had become quite accustomed to Neal's aura in the past days."

I frown at him, "Are you saying that I am...?"

"Do not you think that you are feeling anxious because of the absence of your partner's aura?"

"I do." I quickly agree, then I shake my head, "How come you and Terry uncle are able to stay away from Mom and Gwen aunt? Okay, with Neal's aura not around me, I am not completely helpless, but I definitely do not feel at ease." And it is true. Somewhat. Though, I didn't expect my partner's absence to be noticeable to me, not in the negative sense. But I feel anxious, almost on edge. I keep yearning for Neal's aura, knowing it'll calm me. I have been blaming my exaggerated thoughts towards these exaggerated feelings, but if father agrees that such a thing can happen without my partner then I am assured that I am not overthinking.

Father takes a deep breath and begins, "When I am away on a business trip, away from your mother, I have this surety at the back of my mind that I'll be seeing and sensing her again soon. Same with Terry. We have never faced a situation where we are uncertain about seeing our partners again. Besides if any of my trips without Nina extends for too long, then I do start feeling a little skittish."

I nod at him, thinking it over.

"Is there anything you want to know?" Father ask, when I don't say anything.

Whoa, I think, gazing at him in disbelief. Seeing as how Mikhail is unrestrained of speaking to me of the past events; my own father has started to feel the urge to divulge information to me. It's weird to think he was bound to spill no words because of his old man. The old man with whom he hasn't been in contact with for the past twenty years or so.

"Did you miss him?" I ask.

Father looks mildly surprised for a moment. Considering it's him, even that 'mild' surprise speaks volume. He knows I talk of Mikhail. I may endlessly complain that my father treats me like a kid, and refuses to inform me of major family events; but I can never, never at all, imagine spending any finite amount of time without remaining in contact with him. Or even if I do remain without contactthen that will be only in the case where I am assured of our togetherness in the future. To imagine my father living away from home, away from his father, for an indefinite period of time and without maintaining whatsoever contact is nearly impossible.

"Yes." Father answers simply.

"Why didn't he come with you?" I ask, knowing too well that father must have insisted Mikhail to accompany him. Knowing Mikhail, for howsoever less time, I am sure it's him who must have been adamant to not move on.

"This is his home, Josh."

"It was yours too." I reply instantly.

"But I didn't build my family here. Father did." Father sighs, "Besides, he believed that Jermaine will find a way to approach my family if father carried any contact with me."

"You said Jermaine had attacked you people twice?"

Father nods, "I had left the realm after my nineteenth birthday, shortly after discovering Nina to be my partner. Through those nineteen years...the Ninth Occultist had been summoned twice. And as you now know, the occultist's presence allows Jermaine to visit our Realm as well; he had taken those opportunities to extract his revenge.

"The first time, I was eleven years old. Jermaine had failed to cause us any sort of injury during his first visit to us. Father was the one who summoned The Occultist in regard to a legal matter. The Occultist was being summoned after a lot of years. And since I was young, having never seen an Occultist before, my parents encouraged me to be present during the summoning. Father summoned our Occultist, unbeknownst to the fact that Jermaine can appear too. Considering our whole family was together right there and father was around, Jermaine couldn't harm us. The scimitar was used as a weapon by Father. He overpowered Jermaine and it was during that he had learned the prowess of the sword. Being a kid, it naturally shook me at that time."

I, for one, cannot imagine even my elven year old father to be 'naturally shaken' as his father fought Jermaine. After a moment, all of his words sink in my mind.

"And second time?" I ask, frowning. Father saying that Jermaine 'didn't hurt' anyone during first time is making me overtly anxious about what he has to say to my question.

Father sighs, observing me carefully, "Second time..." he starts, but pauses to clear his throat, "Second time he had got your grandmother."

I blink at him in shock. "What?"

"My mother." Father repeats, as if I cannot make out who he means by 'grandmother'. "Some other council member summoned the Occultist without consulting father. I was with father, sparing in our backyard. Mother was inside. Jermaine disappeared before father could fetch the sword and inflict any hurt on him. This was a few months before my maturation."

So, probably, around nineteen years old. My father lost his mother at nineteen years of age.

"Sorry." I blurt out in reflex. It's unbearably unimaginable to think of not having a mother. I cannot even bear the thought of not having my own mother around. I just...I don't even know what to think about this.

"It's been a long time, son." Father says, giving me a slight smile in encouragement. He probably understands my own blank thoughts over this issue. This is just too much of a shock for me.

A few minutes pass in silence as I try to collect my bearing. I run a hand down my face, still not able to conjure up the helpless situation my father has been forced to undergo.

"This is not justifiable." I blurt next, but this time I don't stop. This is too much of a big offence to be let pass in an official society as the Realm they were living in, "Didn't any other council member do anything? Didn't you call the witch and ask for justification?"

Father suspires loudly, "The witch had not even interfered when Jermaine attacked in front of her, when I was eleven years old. Father knows better than to talk to the occultist about it. He doesn't trust the witches. As for the Realm council, you've already seen," he sighs, "the council is not very pro-Lichinsky-"

"Why the hell not?" I snarl, "This Realm is fucked up."

"Don't cuss." Father says offhandedly before continuing, "Father's reputation has not been up to mark after his mistake, Josh. His massively wrong decision to convict Jermaine was not taken well by the Realm. It was in fact after that incident that our Realm decided to adopt the council routine that is utilized by some of the other Realms. Prior to that, Father was the sole leader of our whole Realm."

I contemplate over this, but eventually it does make me grit my teeth. From the sound of everything I have heard, our family had pretty prestigious status in the past. One wrong decision by one person in our family and suddenly people do not even want to consider the past flawless reputation and forgive one gaffe committed. Be nearly perfect and nobody gives you a second glance, but commit one mistake and everyone is there to remind you that for the rest of your life. This is too farfetched, too surreal to believe that the Realm who claims to be one big 'family' is thriving over throes of jealousy and cut throat competition.

"They are jealous." I state boldly, beyond pissed.

Father raises his eyebrows, as if amused by my reaction, "In vague terms, yes, maybe."

"If they are too uptight to forgive and forget one's mistake and cannot even provide justification for the murder of one's family member, they don't deserve to form the council."

Father sighs, "Josh...its politics. And it's the least of our concern at the moment. I am very sure that even father doesn't want to sit and go on a strike. Besides, they don't have the power to throw father off the council. And I think that's enough of a reply on father's part."

"It's still not fair.They should be rebelled against. I am quite sure not everyone in this Realm is blind to the biased judgments of the council."

"You're young, Josh. You're thinking impetuously. Irrespective, Father doesn't expect support from anyone. Moreover, it's been long since father stopped caring about this Realm. His main purpose is to keep our family's name alive. And of course, he has too much attached memories to let go of this place. So, in order to keep me safe, he asked me to leave once I found your mother."

"And you moved to Latvia." I state glumly.

"Yes. Terry and Rufina accompanied us. And well...rest is history."

"People here think that you left Mikhail behind for your own benefit, isn't it?"

For a moment, father simply stares at me. I wonder if I have guessed wrong. But I have noticed, on more than one occasion, Pleve insinuating that father left Mikhail behind in the moment of a family crisis. Pleve has even used this as a bait to prove my father not deserving of being a member here. After all, what kind of person can belong to this 'perfect Realm' if he cannot even stand by his family during a downfall? That guy, Pleve, seriously ticks me off. For now, I keep my irritation at bay and wait for father to respond, who is still emotionlessly staring at me. After an eon, he speaks.

"Do not...call your grandfather by name again." He orders.

Immediately, I feel my face getting warm. I didn't even realize that I addressed Mikhail as 'Mikhail'. In my mind, I haven't still come to grasp that he is my grandfather, so I simply think of him as 'Mikhail'.

But I seriously didn't intend to speak out his name like he is my school buddy or something. Not in front of the son of the person I address by a simple first name.

Treating elders with respect is weighed upon heavily in my family.

"I am not settled with the idea of him as my grandfather." I reply to father honestly.

Father nods in understanding, and drops the subject. He begins, "And yes. People did think that I left father for my benefit. They thought I escaped the Realm so I don't have to face Jermaine. They believed that I didn't take my father because he was a burden and the sole reason why Jermaine is there to harm me.So, in their opinion, I left the Realm to build my own family separately. That seemed to aggravate people against us more. That the Lichinsky men selfishly care only about themselves."

"And they have nothing to say against Jermaine?" I say dryly, "Who is on a killing spree because he has non-human powers and possibly an immortal life?"

Father shakes his head at me, "People do not know of Jermaine's activities against us, Josh. And whatever few people father confided in ended up responding like Pleve. Father stopped seeking support right that moment. Besides, you think that just because Jermaine doesn't age and can disappear into thin air, he is living the cloud 9 life? He is literally stuck between life and death, with no peace to be found. The Occultists may be the higher beings of our world, but serving one is like living death." Father shrugs, "Or at least that's what I have been told."

"What is he?" I repeat the question, hoping for a clearer answer.

"He serves the Ninth Occultist....as her sycophant. I am not aware of the job description," Father grunts, "But if a witch granted him immortality, it has been at the expense of his good life. The witch imposed that as a punishment, so naturally it's not something good. The theories say that having the blessing of a witch makes you surpass the good things in life. But being with a witch expels all the goodness you could have found. The Occultists have the power to expand their energy by utilizing the life source of their sycophant. That is what Jermaine must be experiencing. He must have his life thinning in front of his eyes, and all the goodness vanishing from his system. Father says he will be a wraith in the future, with not even the recollection of his human life. Even now, he is only driven by his hatred and vengeance. Imagine not feeling anything else. I can bet it's not a good feeling."

The whole description has me pondering. I scratch my head, "Why haven't I ever read books with this information?"

Father sighs, "I gave you the books to make you understand what we are and how we came to be about. I didn't seem it necessary to let you know of the complicated stuff...the servants, the scimitar, the battles..."

I roll my eyes. "Well, to know of the person who wants to kill us would have been a nice warning."

"Then I would have had to tell you why he wants to kill us."

"So, Mikh-grandfather made a mistake. Big deal." I shrug. It's still bizarre to think that they didn't seem it fit to inform me this because they thought I will think less of them.

"It was not my story to tell, Josh." Father states another reason why I have been kept in the shadow. "And father's reputation has only faced downfall since his 'mistake'. I don't think I would have felt nice in narrating that to my son."

I avert my eyes, "I wouldn't have judged." I mutter, then clear my throat and divert the topic, "Isn't it too much of an exaggerated response to kill us for grandfather's mistake? I mean, Jermaine could have harmed grandfather all this time and be done with his tantrum."

Father nods, "He could have. But he wanted father to experience the loss of a family, loss of everything. To experience what's it like to know that our legacy will not continue. That is why he aimed at father's family. Before it was mother and I, amongst which he got my mother. Now it's you and I. Jermaine just wants the Lichinsky family to not continue in the future. He probably wants father to die knowing that he has no son or grandson that will carry his name. Because he experienced the same thing."

I frown, "Jermaine experienced the same thing?"

"Yes. Once he was convicted for the theft of the scimitar, his whole family was exiled. His brother, wife and son. They all eventually died."

An eerie silence falls as I try to grasp this information.So, not only Mikhail made a wrong decision of convicting someone, he also has the death of three innocent people on his head. I can understand Mikhail making a wrong judgment regarding a criminal who was caught red handed. But to punish the whole family of that criminal? That doesn't make sense to me. Somehow the drive for Jermaine lashing out seems slightly justifiable.

"Grandfather shouldn't have punished the family..." I mutter.

Father sighs. "He knows that, Josh. He does feel severe compunction regarding his every decision in Jermaine's case."

I do not think that is good enough. My judgmental thoughts make me realize why exactly my father wanted me to stay oblivious. Now that I know the whole situation, I obviously find Mikhail to be in the wrong. And father obviously didn't want me to think that. Too late for that now. I, anyways, choose to not speak on this matter anymore.

The eerie silence extends into a much longer quiet gap as I stare at the floor and contemplate over all the information I have gained. Another thought creeps into my mind. I begin to speak further but then pause, wondering if I should ask him or not. Father, who has been constantly observing me, seems to sense my dilemma as he encourages me to ask whatever I want to know. Shocking, I know.

"How did we get our passports approved for visa in just a few hours?" I eventually ask, "And...without any interview? It was also baffling to see us grasping thirteen plane tickets just few hours prior to the flight."

Father heaves a sigh, but this time the corner of lips are slightly quirked up.

"Don't worry, Josh." He answers, "You'll know the perks of approaches once you're old enough. Don't fret over the topic too much."

I internally scowl at his not-so-subtle way of brushing off the topic. I open my mouth to rebel against father's decision, but his sudden spiked attention at something behind me forces me to instantly turn around, half expecting Jermaine to be there somewhere. However, the sight is much less threatening, with Aakir's tousled hair spiking in different directions and his hands unceremoniously rubbing at his eyes.

"About time." I snap, my heart going into overdrive. I hastily get up from this side of the bed and approach him on the other side. Aakir looks at me, sleep still evident in his eyes.

"Don't get your boxers in a bunch." He says hoarsely as I sit down next to him, "I met Neal."

"No shit." I roll my eyes, "That's for what you were sent."

Aakir glares at me, "A little gratitude would suffice, douche bag."

I mentally scoff, "Gratitude? For having a good sleep?"

"It wasn't an easy job, asshole." Aakir snaps, "Neal wasn't in his astral form for me to access him easily."

"Alright," father says, "Enough with the curses."

"And enough with the side talk. Just get on with it." I urge Aakir, impatiently.

Aakir glares at me again, "You're ungrateful." He snaps, but then shakes his head and speaks up, "Without my help, Neal wasn't able to project. I spent so much time in concentrating on him, so I could communicate. It took me quite a while to understand that he may not be in his astral form. So, I focused on extracting his astral form.Concentrating to help him project, without knowing his location is not a walk in the park." He snaps, looking at me again.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, not really paying attention, "Where is Neal?"

Aakir scowls at me, but before he can retort on my ignorance, father interferes again.

"Tell from the starting." Father says, "What happened? Did you find his location?"

Aakir shakes his head, "First of all...when I tried to think of Neal, expecting my astral form to teleport to where he is....that didn't work. No matter how much I thought of Neal's presence, I couldn't make myself appear at his location. It was like he just wasn't there. His presence was inaccessible to me. It obviously made me think of the worst thing possible, that he has suddenly ceased to exist." Aakir admits sheepishly. He glances at me and then hastily continues, "But then I decided to focus on his astral form, and somehow I could immediately sense that he is not in his astral form. So...I concentrated on reining the energy of my astral body and usedit to pull Neal's astral form..."

I frown at him, grimacing, "Can you talk in English?" I say.

Aakir sighs, "It's tough to explain. It's just that I can sense Neal's soul....even if I don't know its location. I don't exactly know how that works..." he looks hopefully at my father, but father simply shakes his head and asks Aakir to continue. "Anyways, so it took quite a lot of focus, with I constantly aiming my aura at something invisible and hoping that will help in binding and extracting Neal's soul from his body. It took hell of a lot concentrationbut eventually I could feel that I have made Neal project. And of course Neal, upon projection of his soul, realized that I helped him. It didn't take him long to think of me and approach me in his astral form."

"Where is he?" I ask again. Father puts a restraining hand on my shoulder, clearly asking me to be patient. I hesitate and notice Aakir's scowling face, probably at my interruption. But he shakes his head and continues.

"So," Suddenly Aakir chuckles, "The first thing Neal said was that he was very, very glad to see me. He did seem relieved, albeit a little tensed, but reprieved to see me nonetheless. He explained to me how Jennifer lured him to visit the lake, to have a word with her," Aakir rolls his eyes, "He said that there she had already arranged some sort of a pattern drawn on the sand, enclosed in a circle and she-"

"That's the ritual for summoning the witch." Father enlightens us.

"-uh, yeah," Aakir says, "Yeah, Neal said he was confused at first regarding Jennifer's activity, but it took him too much a time to understand what she was doing. Once the Occultist was there, which he refers to asa 'fugly maiden'," Aakir chuckles again, "Neal was bound by some force. He couldn't move."

Father nods again, "A witch has the capability to physically control you."

"Yeah....then Neal said that the Occultist and Jennifer argued a little. He didn't tell me the subject of their argumentation, but he didn't seem very happy while informing me of that..." Why he would be happy, I think glumly. I know why Neal must have been visibly upset. By that 'argument', he must have figured out that Jennifer had plans to hand him over since the beginning. Aakir goes on, "Then he and the Occultist disappeared from the place. That's what Neal said. That the lake, the mansion in the distant, everything just vanished from in front of him. The next thing Neal knows, they are at a cottage...he wasn't sure about the term 'cottage' either. It's just a plain room built with something that looked like straw...but he supposed it is not straw. Anyways, once there, he was forced to sit on the single platform." Aakir hesitates a little as he continues, "Then...Neal said that the Occultist simply...'ordered' him to observe the doings of the First Occultist through his abilities."

My frown deepens, "Um...doings of the First Occultist?" I squint, trying to make sense of this.

"And?" father prods.

Aakir shrugs, himself looking confused regarding the Occultist's 'order'. "So..." he says, "Neal doesn't know the exact location where he is. He just appeared at a random place once the Occultist abducted him. He is not allowed to move because of the binding force that the Occultist has on him. He sounded quite irritated. He was in fact sitting at a single place for almost three hours without being able to project."

Dammit. My gaze thoughtfully averts to a different corner. So, Neal doesn't know where he is. Now what? I tiredly rub a hand down my face. This day is losing its gloom again.

"Then we tried to visit where Neal's body is."

I snap my head towards Aakir who has started speaking again. Apparently he is not done. I silently urge him to go on.

"Since its Neal body, he could obviously access it. With our bound energies, when Neal tried to access his body, it automatically made me teleport as well."

"So, you found it." I say excitedly.

"Well...not exactly. I saw the cottage he spoke of...but I could understand why he was confused it was a cottage or not..."

"What?" I say when he abruptly stops talking.

Aakir looks from my father to me and then back at my father. Then he speaks solely to him, "The...cottage was surrounded by fire."

Confused, I look at father, who has his features completely schooled. But I can tell that the revelation has caught him thinking.

"The outside of the cottage itself was on fire," Aakir continues in a disbelieving voice, "In fact, almost a mile in every direction outside of the cottage was drowned in the heat of the fire...for much distance the fire was prevalent. The flames were constantly building and dying. The periphery around the cottage, after the high flames, gave way to a bed of red heated coals that stretched for quite a lot of distance. At frequent intervals, the fire would rise from the coals....the air was thick with heat. It was hindering the visibility. At every angle it was just...red or orange.

"There was a volcanic mountain nearby commencing from right behind the cottage...the whole slope upto the mouth of the mountain was drowned with lava and fire. It made us realize that those 'red heated coals' must be actually semi-frozen lava, extending in the front and sides of the cottage." Aakir sighs, "It was a weird site because all this frozen lava, shooting flames, were spread on a bed of snow on the mountain. Then we tried to see where this place is exactly...the moment we escaped the heated area, we could only find a sparse forest. We traversed quite a length in hopes of finding a sign or anything, but there were only woods and snow. There was no civilization. In fact, in the forest, when we turned to look at the volcanic mountain, the lava and the cottage, we could see nothing. There was a just a red haze, surrounded by piles of snow. So we couldn't actually...do you know where that is?" Aakir asks, looking at my father.

I turn to see that my father has straightened up and is looking elsewhere with a pondering expression.

"Dad?" I ask meekly.

Father looks at me once and then at Aakir, "I need to talk to father upon this." He gravely says, as if he is not happy with whatever Aakir has revealed, and turns around, probably to go and look for Mikhail.

I get panicky, "Wait!" I say, "Do you know where Neal is?"

Father, halfway through the door, turns around, "Yes." He says grimly, "He is at the land of the flames."

"Land of the flames?" I echo.

"Yes." Father reiterated, continuing to escape the room, "Land of the flames. The same place where Jermaine's family was exiled to."

  21. The Escapade

I watch as Aakir walks the length of the room, his expressions glum as he talks on the cellphone. I recall the days only sometime back, when I would find Aakir's behavior regarding Silvia to be over-the-top endearing. But watching Aakir now, his sorrow as clear as day as he converses with Silvia who is not by his side anymore, I suddenly find myself relating to the situation. No, I do not imply that I have suddenly started having mushy feelings over Neal. It's just that the absence of his aura has not only taken away the goodness he was supplying, but also the innate goodness that I had been exhibiting. Also, it's just weird to spend so many hours without his snide remarks or without seeing his nerdy nose buried in a book.

It's tremendously peculiar to notice such small things are looking so big suddenly. Especially when only slightly over a month has passed since mine and Neal's friendship has blossomed. And it's strange how so many things are taken for granted by us. Even my bitter banters with Neal seem attractive as of now. For someone like Aakir, who has been more than excited to accept his partner and make her a part of his life for a permanent term, he must be having much more difficult time than me. But then again, he at least has the surety that he will be seeing Silvia again. With my partner stuck with an Occultist...I really do not know what to think.

Aakir sighs loudly as he disconnects the phone. He glances at me, catches my dejected stance and sighs again.

I discreetly roll my eyes.

"He'll be fine." Aakir mutters as he walks to sit beside me on the bed. "He is a tough cookie. He'll manage till we reach him."

"I know he can manage." I say, inwardly sighing. I am not worried about Neal getting traumatized or anything. He may be helpless, but he certainly isn't someone who is mentally weak and definitely not someone who would break upon finding no solution to his predicament.

Aakir hums, "Kind of weird, huh? Makes me wish we hadn't turned up in this Realm. It seems to be bringing only ill luck and lots of unpleasant surprises."

"We didn't have an option. We couldn't exactly hide in some corner of the world."

"World doesn't have a corner." Aakir weakly jibes back.

I am feeling even more tired than him, so I do not respond to his lame attempt at humor. Aakir takes my silence to be a sign of the worry I am feeling for my partner. He sighs loudly again.

"We'll get him." Aakir says with determination, bumping his shoulder with mine.

I frown, glancing at him from the corner of my eyes, "I am not a kid. Stop pestering me like mom."

Aakir chuckles, then sighs again. I find myself getting irked by how much he is sighing.

"How is Silvia doing?" I ask, hoping for a distraction.

"Not good." Aakir mutters, "She had been so happy today in the morning...She had also talked to her mother in the morning, informing her that she is planning to look for courses in Russia...and it seemed like everything would be perfect. We'll stay here for some time. Silvia will do some part time short course. Faith and Rahul will enjoy their vacation. Mother and Nina aunt would join our family business for the term. And when Neal's issue will pass by smoothly, we'll all return to our country in good spirits and try our best to resume our lives. Now everything's shattered because of one bitch."

I deeply exhale, letting my head fall back and rest against the head board of the bed. What Aakir is describing seems like a distant dream now. But I try to be optimistic. I try to envisage a future in Latvia where we all are again settled peacefully and completing our last year of high school.

"You think Mikhail really knows where the land of flames is?" I ask, diverging from the overwhelming feeling rumbling in my pit. It seems like there is no single topic that can keep me calm for a long time.

"That old man seems quite knowledgeable and wise." Aakir says, almost without paying attention, "Strict too." He adds after a thought.

"But father said that the land of flames has never been visited before...or at least no one has stayed alive to tell the tale."

"It's the place of exile for supernatural creatures." Aakir snorts, "What do you expect? Anyways, seeing as how those lands are perfectly inaccessible and almost invisible, nobody would stumble upon it. Besides the heat would be too much. It will make any person turn away."

And my partner is sitting right at the center of it. I start feeling a little queasy by imagining my partner's state. Would he be feeling uneasy with the heat around? Disturbed by the flames? The way Aakir described it, it surely didn't sound very comfortable.

"Didn't Neal complain about the heat?" I ask.

Aakir shakes his head, "He is inside the cottage. Somehow the walls of the cottage are acting as barriers for the flames. Flames are on the outside...he didn't even say that it's uncomfortable or anything. Except for bitching about remaining put in one place for hours."

"When are we going to know what we're going to do now?" I ask, feeling impatient all of a sudden.

"Nik uncle and your grandfather are discussing it. Keep yourself on a leash. They obviously don't want to take a hasty decision. After all, Mikhail uncle is expecting the land of the flames to be the residence of the Ninth Occultist. If we are to jump inside there, then we need a proper plan in case we have to oppose the Occultist."

"You said the Occultist was not around Neal anymore..." I say, feeling depressed as Aakir narrates the deep pit in which we are as of now.

"Yeah." Aakir agrees, "But remember what Mikhail uncle said? The Occultist is just a bundle of energies. She uses her energy as she needs it. Her physical formation also utilizes her energy. So all in all, she may not be visible to us, but she will be there."

Fantastic. I settle a little lower on my side of the bed.

"Not to mention," Aakir continues, "there are chances of that Jermaine man being somewhere around too."

I find myself slipping even lower on the bed.

I have not told Aakir the details of the history between Jermaine and Mikhail. Aakir has not even seen Jermaine, seeing as how he has joined us late, but he is definitely curious about this fellow hell bent at harming us. Upon his inquisitiveness, I revealed that Mikhail wrongly convicted Jermaine once, causing him to become the witch's sycophant. I did not tell about my dead grandmother or Jermaine's family. Though, Aakir seems to have guessed about Jermaine's family, as father was not discreet while announcing the land of flames to be the place where Jermaine's family was exiled to.

"I wish I had not brought Silvia here." Aakir says suddenly.

I frown at him, "You wanted her to be-"

"Yes." Aakir cuts me off, "I wanted." He stresses on 'I'. "I got her here for my own selfish reasons and because of it, her life is in turmoil."

I am silent for a moment. Of course I agree with him to some extent. But there is only one particular thing that has caused all this havoc, which is the main reason for my disapproval. "You shouldn't have made Neal envisage her future."

Aakir gives me a dry look, "Look, I know you don't like your partner using-"

"It's not that I despise Neal's abilities being used like that. Well, that too, but apart from that, I believe Silvia and you would be much happier right now if you had approached her and told her about yourself, without making Neal bend her will. What would she have done? Probably flipped out? Straight away refuse to accompany you? But don't you think she would have eventually accepted it? She is your partner. At some subliminal level, even she can sense the equanimity she gets by being with you. So, may be not instantly, but in the future, she would have come to accept you. Living for a month or two without her aura would have been difficult...but at least you would have had the reassurance of returning to a 'happy' Silvia."

Aakir doesn't say anything for a long moment. I almost believe that the topic is done with, when Aakir speaks again.

"I just...I just panicked. The thought of not knowing when we'll return back...we didn't know at the time that we'll be returning within a month. Even now, we're unaware of our return. Besides, I had a very strong feeling that she would end up dating someone else. Even now she treats me as someone who is very young for her. You have no idea how insecure that makes me feel. I just thought...I just thought if she knows about me and if she comes with me...she'll grow to the idea of being with me."

"Did she?"

Aakir suspires, "No."

"And you think she cannot date anybody else with you around?"

Aakir shoots me a dark glare, "Not here. No."

Despite myself, I find myself chuckling at Aakir's demeanor. I never pegged him to be a jealous kind of guy. Hell, I never pegged him to be excessively emotional in anything. Romantic yes, but not dramatic. But I guess for partners, even your emotional disposition can change a lot.

"Aakir..." I start, "Even if she dates anyone, you shouldn't worry. Or even restrict her. What have you got to worry? You have the upper hand in knowing that she'll get along the best with you."

"Doesn't mean I want to be the bridesman on her wedding." Aakir snaps.

I tiredly chuckle again, feeling slightly thankful for the distractive topic. My mind feels a little at ease, without having to constantly worry over Neal.

"She will not make you her bridesman. You just need to suck up and act like a man. You can start by quitting whining like a bratty teenager all the time."

Aakir punches my shoulder, making me wince. He shakes his head in exasperation, "I don't know, Josh...it's just....whenever it comes to her, I get all over the place. Know what I mean?"

I shrug.

Aakir squints at me, "Come on, you must feel something like that for Neal."

I roll my eyes, "We are not gay."

"He is your partner." He points out, like a smartass.

"So?"

"So?" Aakir echoes, "So, gay or not, he obviously affects you."

"Yeah, he does." I say slowly, not registering what Aakir is implying.

"But not like Silvia affects me...?"

"We are not gay." I repeat.

Aakir rolls his eyes. I don't understand where his train of thought is going. Neal and I always hung out together. We hardly left each other's side since we are here. But of course we are not excessively endearing to each other, as Aakir is to Silvia. Aakir has his own romantic reasons. Me? Well, as I said, Neal and I are not gay. And I believed Aakir to be aware of that since he has been the only one who doesn't settle down to insinuate romance between Neal and I like other people out here. But, now I am not so sure about his thoughts regarding the subject.

"You sure seemed jealous to learn of Neal having sex with Ananya."

I look at Aakir, agape.

Aakir shrugs at my stare, "I may not have said something at that time, but I was paying enough attention to your conversation with him."

"I was not jealous." I shake my head at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, sure."

"Ananya is his best friend, okay? It's not my business what he does with her. Neal even expressed a slight crush on her. And I am fine with it." I snap in a much defensive tone than I was intending.

"If you say so." Aakir says, doubtful.

I give him an exasperated look and get up from the bed. I am sick of people assuming Neal and I to be more than friends. I am even sick with people believing that if I have a partner, I will inevitably fall in love with him. Father and Aakir are two people who never raise the topic in such direction. But now even Aakir is becoming part of those who expect me to be gay. This is ridiculous. Neal is my partner. Okay, so, maybe I am jealous of Ananya. But not because she slept with Neal. But because her equation with Neal is much better than my friendship with Neal. After all, flawless compatibility is something that I am guaranteed in case of Neal. And considering Ananya, I'll just say that I don't like to be the second best.

"When are they going to come back?" I ask Aakir, changing the topic yet again. I walk towards the door, a frown intact on my face. Neal's topic has brought back the impending nervousness regarding his situation. I do not know what Mikhail and father have to talk about that they cannot discuss here. I wish they be back soon, because I really want to know what we should be doing now. Also, I do not want to continue talking about partners with Aakir. He has started to get to my nerves.

"Let me call Nik uncle." Aakir says, fumbling with his phone. After a brief talk, Aakir shuts off his phone and informs me that we are being summoned to the library. I put on my loafers and we leave Mikhail's room, shutting the door as we move out. The mansion has its own library in the left wing. I am aware of this information because Neal occasionally visits it to grasp some book or so which he can read in our room later. And he would always ask me to accompany him. And well, why would I deny?

Weaving through the countless corridors, we finally push the doors to the library open. I can already sense and hear the voices of my father and Mikhail. We follow the direction of the two lone auras in the library. Father and Mikhail are sitting next to a desk which is sprawled with various books and an unblinking computer desktop. Mikhail is sifting through the computer. He is wearing huge glasses that are peacefully resting on his nose as he stares down at the computer screen. The spectacles make Mikhail look oddly older. The site takes me with a little surprise. Can a therian's eyesight become weak with age? I didn't know that. Father is sitting next to him, a book in his hands, but his attention is not on the book. He is speaking quietly, intermittently glancing at Mikhail.

"-the region of the Samoyeds," father is saying, "They have a range of mountains there."

"But no volcanic mountains." Mikhail says monotonously.

"The volcanic part of that mountain was not visible." Aakir says as we approach them. We grab two of the chairs present on the edge and drag towards the elders. Mikhail glances away from the computer screen and watches, from the top of his glasses, his eyes glued to Aakir as we settle down.

"Anyone who has visited the place must have seen the volcanic mountain." Mikhail says. Though he is stating the fact, his stance is actually inviting for more opinions or information on the subject.

Aakir minutely shakes his head, "It was very hot there, despite being snowy everywhere. Neal and I were in our astral forms, so obviously the heat was hardly a hindrance. We obviously couldn't feel the heat. But we could wildly guess that it was enough hot for anyone to not survive a passage through it. Not in the physical form at least. The air was so thick and hot that it practically made the lava and the mountain invisible to anyone who may see it at a safe distance."

"You cannot possibly tell me how cold it was there, can you?" Mikhail grunts.

Aakir shakes his head again, "There was extending permafrost. And it's still September, so I believe it must be a pretty cold place to have solid permafrost even this time around the year. But otherwise, obviously, we couldn't determine exactly how cold." Aakir pauses for a moment, "It was an odd site actually. Fire and ice. Creepy."

"You do not know where the land of flames is?" I ask apprehensively. If therians were exiled to this place in the past, I expect common people to at least know where it is.

"I know the general direction. But I cannot tell you the exact mountain that Aakir speaks of." Mikhail returns back to the computer screen.

"There are only the Byrranga Mountains in that region, father." My father speaks.

"But those are Rocky Mountains. We are looking for something more...snowy but discreet at the same time." Mikhail gives a thoughtful look, "Hmm," he turns to Aakir, "Was there any water body nearby?"

Aakir shakes his head, "Only snow, slope and woods. And of course the fire."

"We could ask the shamans." Father suggests Mikhail. "Though I am dubious if they'll be cooperative."

"We don't seem to have any other option." Mikhail grunts. "And sending the therians to the land of flames?" he gives a sly glance towards father, "I am sure the shamans will be cooperative."

"Who are shamans?" I ask.

"The locals of Taymyr." Mikhail answers. "That's where the land of flames is believed to be."

"People live there?" Aakir asks dubiously.

"Not exactly near the land of flames. They live at a safe distance and are not many in number. Only the extreme orthodox ones. Who also enjoy the extreme weather."

"They know of therians?" Aakir asks.

I have a bad feeling in my stomach that the shamans don't like us. I am beginning to wonder if there is anybody who likes us.

Mikhail seems to be contemplating as he answers, "Some of them are therians themselves..." he says reluctantly. The information takes me by surprise.

A look of understanding crosses Aakir's face, but then he frowns, "Then...why do you say they will be happy to send therians to the land of the flames? They are a part of this Realm, aren't they?"

"No, they are not." Mikhail says, "They chose not to be. Shamans are...they are people who do not take our therian ability as a gift. Instead they take it as something unnatural, something that shouldn't be on the face of this earth, as it disrupts the natural order of things."

"So, they are not therian-friendly?" I deadpan.

"Yes." Father answers me, "That is why I am doubtful that they will help us with guidance. All they really care about is keeping their nature intact with their shamanism practices."

"Shamanism?" I ask.

"Like conversing with spirits and all?" Aakir asks.

I look at him sideways, giving him a funny look.

"What?" he says at my stare, "Shamanism is a sort of religion, right?" he turns towards father during his question. I really do not know how come Aakir seems to know the vague meaning of every weird word that is thrown our way. They are always completely foreign to me.

"Not exactly." Mikhail says, funnily eyeing Aakir. "But their practices involve worshipping the nature spirit and supposedly, channeling the energy of the nature to heal or remedy an impending situation."

"Nature spirit?" I ask in a tone as if I think this is all a bad joke. But seriously. Even though therians believe that their true nature lies in the animal forms, I always consider our therian features to be unnatural. Considering I am one, I should not be surprised with the peculiar developments, or discovering already existing peculiarities, in our world. And I have been fine up till now in my life.

The only oddity I had seen since birth was the spiritual nature of Aakir's therian form and the prowess of the Occultist, which I haven't yet witnessed in real life. Now there is a fortune teller in our world, who let's not forget, is my partner. We have a half wraith-half human person who is capable of keeping grudges for long years. We have a 'magical' sword, whose characters are often compared with my partner's. And now we have therians who do not like therianthropy and also 'converse' with the 'nature spirit'. Of course, I have never been inclined towards believing that nature, as a whole, also has a soul. But I guess if I can turn into an animal then anything's possible, right?

"They believe," Mikhail says, looking at me, "that their ability to survive in such harsh climes is because of the blessing of the nature around them. Despite being completely cut off with the rest of the world, shamans find food, cloth, warm blankets and quick remedies for any ailment they suffer from in their frozen homes. And they credit their reverence to the nature spirit, which in turn blesses them. Of course there has been no proof of their ability to actually be able to channel energy from 'nature' and utilize it as per their requisitions. But there have also been no proof to discredit their claims. And since, they do not like us therians 'flaunting' our unnaturalness, they deem it fit to not share their lifestyle secrets with anybody else in the world. They occlude human and therians alike, remaining in their own cocoon."

"But that's hypocrisy." Aakir says indignantly, "they may not transform their spirit into an animal, but they do utilize the quirks of easy projection that is characteristic to therians."

"They are spiritual therians?" I ask, shocked.

"Yes." Mikhail nods in response to my question, but he is still eyeing Aakir up.

"How the hell do you know about shamans?" I ask Aakir. It's clear through the conversation that Aakir is quite acquainted with the up and above life of the spiritual therians in this Taymyr. How the hell does he even know of Taymyr? I have never even heard of the place before.

Aakir shrugs, though he looks slightly sheepish, "I had just researched a bit. I am not sure if this is what I had searched for. I just knew some spiritual therians have colonies in northern Russia and they use their ability to worship some different goddess. Apparently I got a few things wrong. I wasn't aware of the details."

"Researched through whom?" father asks, frowning at Aakir.

Aakir looks like a deer caught in headlights at the question, "Just...here and there..." he trails off.

Father raises one regal eyebrow, as if intending to say 'you're in trouble, buddy'. I am hell curious to know how come Aakir knows about this, but like the good brother I am, I motion to divert the topic to spare Aakir the awkwardness. But my diversion skills are not required. Immediately, a therian aura enters the confines of the library. As one, all of our heads turn in the direction of the entrance of the library. As the therian comes into view, I feel myself immediately tensing up and scowling with derision.

"Got it." David says, ignoring my glare and moving over to grab a seat right next to my father. He raises three vials of clear liquid in his hand and projects them towards my father. Father pointedly looks at Aakir, as if saying, 'we're not done yet', then he turns to David and carefully holds one of the vials and raises it up to inspect it.

"Twenty four hours, you say?" father says to David.

"More or less. Side effects are least with this one as well. Only slight feverish feeling. Slight warmth,that's it."

"Hmm." Father says, still inspecting the vial and grabbing another one from David's hand and passing it onto Mikhail.

"What is it?" Aakir asks, while I am still busy glaring at David who, weirdly, hasn't taken notice of me. Or maybe he is just ignoring. Asshole.

"This is for you." Mikhail says, throwing the vial in my direction. I catch it and end up frowning at Mikhail's words.

"What is it?" I repeat Aakir's question.

"Thank you, David." Mikhail says gruffly, nodding at David and completely ignoring Aakir and I.

David nods back, "You don't have to worry about Jennifer anymore. I'll keep a watch on her."

"Like you've been doing all these years whilst she was planning at your back?" I taunt.

That gets me the attention I am seeking. Mikhail and father turn to look at me stoically. I avert my eyes from them and instead focus on David, who, ironically, is keeping his eyes on my father, refusing to look at my direction.

"I should leave. If you need any other assistance, I'll be happy to oblige." David says to my father and Mikhail. He gets up, nods at them and makes way to move out of the library, without sparing me a glance. Coward. Or maybe he thinks I am not worthy of his attention. The thought just pisses me off.

An extending silence prevails as we wait for David's aura to disappear from our senses, an indication that he has gone enough far away to not eavesdrop on our conversation, if perchance he plans to do so.

"I can't believe you guys are consorting with him."I say to my elders, making sure to express my disappointment, if not complete anger.

Father sighs, "He is not with Jennifer, Josh."

I huff, "Yeah. He is just her boyfriend; he is not really with her. I get it." I glare after my sarcastic remark.

"Do not use that tone with your father." Mikhail says to me in a strict voice, "He wanted to repent for what Jennifer did. And he had something that would be useful for us. End of story."

I have many retorts right on the tip of my tongue, but the tone of Mikhail's voice is like death to my voice. Mikhail gets up, removing his spectacles and haphazardly placing them on the desk. He closes the book on the desk that was in front of him, also forgetting the computer screen, which now that I notice is blank. The information on Taymyr that was displaying on the browser just moments before is nowhere in sight anymore.Apparently, even Mikhail doesn't trust David enough to remain logged on that particular page in his presence. And they blame me for being severely antagonistic. Mikhail turns around and takes the two vials from my father and inspects them again, while standing. Father gives me a pacifying look, as if conveying to not take Mikhail's rebuke seriously. I simply avert my eyes.

Aakir clears his throat, "What is it?" he asks again, though his voice is much timid as if he expects Mikhail to chide him too.

"They call it a 'repellant'." Father starts, "Remember Jennifer telling about instilling repellant in you when she left you in the forest?"

"Like, when she left me for good?" Aakir asks, as if Jennifer has left him in a forest millions of times. I roll my eyes.

"Yes. She had instilled this in you." Father nods towards the vial in my hand. "I don't know why David and Jennifer call this a 'repellant',when it's actually just a suppressor. It will delimitate your aura, forbid it from radiating out of your body. In short, it will suppress your aura."

My eyes slightly widen as realization hits me. I remember Neal telling me about this same chemical back at the hotel in the outskirts of Krasnoyarsk; the very same chemical with the help of which Jennifer was planning to sneak Neal out.

"So...Josh will be drinking that?" Aakir asks dubiously.

Father nods.

"You've got to be kidding me." I deadpan.

Mikhail's eyes flicker towards me at my tone, but I don't give a damn, not right at this moment. They want me to drink whatever hobo-jobo that David has randomly handed over? This is stupidity at the penultimate stage.

"We cannot risk you hanging around near the land of flames while flaunting your aura, Josh. You'll need the repellant."

"No, that's not the point of discussion." I reply indignantly, "I'll drink whatever the hell you tell me to, dad, provided you're strictly aware of the source of it. I am not drinking whatever the hell's in that vial, when you don't even know where David got it from. For all I know, he has acid in those."

"Don't be dramatic." Father says, tiredly rubbing his forehead.

"I am being pragmatic. How can you even trust David?"

"David was not aware of Jennifer's plans, Josh."

"Yeah, and a few hours back even Jennifer was a harmless hassle around us. Look at what she did."

"Josh-"

"No, don't 'Josh' me, dad. I am surprised you have put your trust so easily in him. How can you trust anyone apart from our family at a time like this?"

"You're paranoid because Neal's not around." Father says, now speaking sternly, "Just calm down for a second."

I scoff, "I am not drinking this." I idly wave the vial in my hand.

"Then you won't be going on this 'rescue mission'." Mikhail drawls out, not looking away from the vials in his hands.

"Excuse me?" I snap.

Mikhail turns towards me, glaring, "You mind your tone, boy. I will not be repeating myself over and over. Talk with civility or get out of the room."

I briefly close my eyes, feeling irked beyond words. I rove my hands over my face once, then look up to see a nervous looking Aakir, my stoic father and a stern-as-hell-looking grandfather.

"I am sorry, okay?" I say, exasperated, not sounding sorry at all. "But you guys have to agree that you do not make sense in this case."

"Is he always like this?" Mikhail snaps at my father.

Father sighs, "He doesn't have his partner around."

"Neither do I." Mikhail thunders.

"Proves why you two are the only ones who are pissed beyond reasonable facts." Father states calmly, neither looking at me nor at Mikhail. Father suspires and straightens up, "Just," he starts, "Calm down both of you, for a moment."

"I am not-" I start.

"Yes, Josh," father interrupts, "I know you do not want to drink it. And I am aware of your reasons. Just let me speak now."

"Instead of quipping like a brat." Mikhail adds, glaring at me.

"I am a teenager." I babble, "Sue me."

Father raises his hand, palm facing me. He gives me a stern look, "Enough, Josh."

This time his tone is enough strict to make me shut up for good long moments. I am glaring though, not at all pleased with where this is going. An air of reticence builds up, almost extending to the point of getting awkward. Eventually, father quits his glaring match with me and placidly looks at all of us.

"Alright," he begins, looking sideways at Mikhail once, then turning his eyes at me, "We have planned a course of action. And it would be essential that your aura doesn't radiate as a red signal to anybody who can sense it where we are going. So, quit complaining about it. Jennifer is too scared to leave the Ninth Realm, lest she encounters the First Occultist and even though David doesn't approve of what she did, he is still not going to leave her side-"

"Exactly." I say.

"Which means," father sternly says, indicating that I don't interrupt, "that he will not be leaving this Realm till Jennifer is here. Father will be keeping an eye on him. David is not a fool to antagonize us, not at this stage, not until he is staying here where father can keep an eye on him. So, you can stop worrying about those vials containing 'acid'. Trust our judgment."

I still have plenty of contradicting responses, but I know they will have double the amount of responses for my response. Trust their judgment? Their judgment, howsoever wise, has been unintentionally landing us into severe situations. But at the end of the day, my judgment will be worse than theirs. Besides, despite my temper tantrum, I know somewhere deep down that I'll eventually end up listening to father. I sigh in defeat. I slightly nod at father, indicating my complacence. Father nods in return, looking relieved.

"Okay." He says, "You should know that you do not compulsorily need to drink the repellant. You can stay back. The course of action that we have decided doesn't necessarily require you to be a part of it."

"Of course I'll be a part of it. I won't be left behind." I say instantly.

Father complacently nods at me and looks at Mikhail again. The latter, looking oddly smug, sits back down in his seat, "Told you he wouldn't sit back." He says, his eyes still on the vials.

Father discreetly rolls his eyes, "Well, he is my son. If I am not sitting back, then I don't expect him to either."

"I am not sitting back because it's my partner we are talking about." I drawl.

"You're not sitting back because, as you just pointed out, you're a teenager who is having a temper fit." Mikhail says.

"The course of action?" Aakir asks, interrupting the odd exchange between myself, father and Mikhail.

"Yes." Mikhail straightens up, "So, the course of action is that my stubborn son and his even stubborn son are going to head towards Taymyr. The land of flames has always been believed to be up that north. So, you'll be heading that way." He looks from father to I. "Aakir, it's upon you to decide if you want to accompany them or not."

"Of course I will." Aakir spontaneously says, without hesitation.

"Good. Because out of everyone, you're the only enough competent person for this task."

Father and I share a look. I am looking exasperated obviously, a little ticked off at Mikhail's words. But Father is slightly smirking; just a little quirk of the corner of his lip. Though, I fail to see the point of amusement when your father is declaring you incompetent in front of your nephew.

"He is pissed that we haven't left the realm with the rest of the family." Father answers my unvoiced question.

I see. So, Mikhail is being a child and routing towards insults just because we didn't obey him. And he is accusing me of throwing a temper fit. Figures.

"You bet I am pissed." Mikhail grunts, but continues his pep talk, "So, you three will be going to Taymyr, leaving tomorrow morning. You need passes to approach that region. I'll make sure they are available by tomorrow morning. I'll just book the tickets for your cruise-"

"Cruise?" I exclaim, "And passes for what?"

"Foreigners are not allowed in the northern cities. You need a pass for that."

"And we'll get that overnight?" I say, my voice doubtful.

"I have my sources. You don't have to worry about that. Now as I was saying...Dudinka is the last city before complete wilderness up north. You'll reach the city on the tenth day. After that-"

"Tenth?" I exclaim again.

"You're pissing me off, boy." Mikhail grunts.

"Tenth day?" I confirm.

"Yes." Mikhail replies and this time he pauses to let that sink in.

I am already feeling so anxious, desiring to sense Neal's aura, and this man is telling me that I won't be able to accomplish that for more than ten days.I feel my chest constricting when I think of Neal. Is he even going to be fine for so many days? Amidst the flames and with an Occultist? More than anything, I cannot think of spending so many days without him around. It's a punch in the gut to realize how used to I have become of his presence. But with the tension of my own predicament, I am now severely worried about Neal's wellbeing. Ten days will not pass in a jiffy.

"Isn't there a way to reach there earlier?" I ask in a meek voice. "I mean," I clear my throat, "Is it even safe for Neal to stay there for so many days?"

"Neal is the safest person in this world, anytime, anyplace, Josh." Mikhail says, "He may be used unethically, but no one will ever harm him. Not physically at least. And never by the occultist. So, stop worrying about his health. Just worry about getting him back. And for that you need to traverse on a cruise ship. There are no roads, and no airports that can deliver you there. Now, listen up. Once you reach Dudinka, you will have to proceed towards north, out of the city. I don't think any vehicle can manage to move that north, in the wilderness. So ask for ways and proceed. Ask for the colony of the shamans. Or the colony of the Samoyeds. They live more or less in the wilderness. I expect you to reach them by the night of the eleventh day, or the morning of the twelfth. If later than that, then you guys are being lousy. Don't be lousy," Mikhail stresses, glaring at each one of us, "Once there, ask them for the land of flames. Fair warning, they will not be pleasant. But persuasion is going to be your job.

"I am also not sure if your mobile networks will be working there. So, don't rely on contacting me once you reach the land of flames. Since we may not be in contact, remember that you should only and only breach the land of flames after seven pm on the twelfth day. That will be..." Mikhail mentally calculates,"fourteenth of September, on Tuesday. Do not forget that. Do not be late, that you don't reach the land of flames by twelfth day, seven pm. And do not step through the flames till seven pm, in case you arrive early."

"Is there a catch?" I ask, frowning at the specific timings.

"Yes." Mikhail says, "I will be summoning the Occultist here at exactly seven pm. It will ensure that the Occultist is not around the land of flames when you breach it. Also, Jermaine will most probably come here as well, so you wouldn't have to worry about someone stabbing your back at the land of flames."

"Jermaine was not there." Aakir says.

"He can be where the Occultist is. If the Occultist is there, even ifnot in her physical form, then even Jermaine can be there. I'll call the Occultist here, so you don't have to worry about both the things. You people should hurry once it's seven pm, because I am not sure how long I will be able to hold back the Occultist. Of course, only Aakir, and maybe Nikolai can pass through the land of the flames. Josh, you'll be remaining back of course. You cannot use your stubbornness here. You have nothing that can make you immune to the flames."

"Why can dad go?" I ask, confused.

"It is not certain that Nikolai can go." Mikhail clears, "But he will be bearing the scimitar. And by certain tests, it is somewhat safe to guess that the flames are going to be harmless to the bearer of the sword. Nikolai will obviously have to test the theory before stepping through the flames," Mikhail waves towards father, "And before you say it," he turns back at me, "No. You cannot take the sword for yourself and walk through the flames instead of your father."

"Why not?" I ask, indignant.

"Because I am saying so." Mikhail replies sternly, "Nikolai has earned the status as the bearer of scimitar. It's not in everyone's power to sustain handling that weapon. Moreover, I am certain your father is a better combater than you, if it came down to something like that. So, do not question over this."

I find my stare directed at the floor, glaring.

"But the main job will be yours Aakir." Mikhail turns towards Aakir, "Your astral form can cross the flames for sure, and I believe by your side, Neal will not face much problem in coming out. But if it does pose a problem, then I am afraid you people will have to improvise."

"Um, wait." Aakir says, "Am I, um, well, how am I supposed to get Neal out of there?"

"You're the protector." Mikhail says, his usually stoic voice taking an obvious turn.

"Well..." Aakir says, "I didn't really get the memo, or at the least, a job description."

"Do you have a problem in doing this?" Mikhail straightaway asks.

"No." Aakir replies, feeling slightly insulted, "I just want to know how to go about it."

"As I said, you're Neal's protector. You both will have to figure it out on your own. I don't know the quirks of the bond between you two. But I am quite sure it just doesn't involve happy gossipy time in your astral forms. So, deal with it. It is anyways not our business to know the ups and downs of the bond you share. You find something, utilize it and help yourselves. Do not tell it to other people, and that involves us too. Keep things pertaining to your bond between yourself and Neal." Mikhail pauses for effect, "Understood?"

Aakir, looking slightly dumbfounded, nods to Mikhail.

"Alright. Go and get sleep then. You'll leave near sunrise tomorrow. Better not be moody about the timings." Mikhail grumbles as he gets up from his seat. "Keep these with you. And keep them safe." He hands over the two vials to father.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I say, lifting the vial in my hand.

"Drink it when you reach the land of flames. Precautionary measures. The rest will have their auras undetectable. You're the only one who would be standing out. So drink it when Aakir and your father go to fetch Neal. And stay alert. And remember, that it takes around ten-fifteen minutes for the effect of this chemical to take place." Mikhail pauses again, "Any other questions?"

None of us say anything, making Mikhail look somewhat pleased.

"Good." He says, "Now get lost and let me be in peace."

  22. Colliding The Debarred

My home country, Latvia, is a pretty cold country. Not the 'I'll freeze you to death' cold, but an 'I'll be a pleasant cooling sensation' cold. Especially in Liepāja, which is right next to a sea, the temperature is pretty much on the downside. The summers are also pleasantly cold, the temperature hardly going above twenty five degrees, hell it hardly ever goes beyond twenty, and the wind coming from the sea just adds to the pleasing cooling sensations. All in all, I am pretty accustomed to the cold and even enjoy it to quite an extent. Better than the skimpy, sweaty humidity that is characteristic of summers in some of the unfortunate countries. It oddly makes me respect the low temperatures that we are gifted with.

I never, once in my life, thought that I will come to despise the same coldness. Or maybe that is because my body has not tolerated such insulting temperature for long periods. It's not that Liepāja has not greeted us with torturous temperatures. Temperatures of up to minus five are common; and on certain occasions I have even faced temperatures of up to minus fifteen degrees. But those are never long lasting; not lasting through the season; hell, not lasting through the day most of the times. So, imagine my predicament at the moment, with my feet tucked inside warm boots, probably made of reindeer wool, my body wrapped in the jacket of the same material, my hands shoved inside woolen gloves and a thick muffler wrapped around my neck. I have never had to wear such heavy winter clothes through my life in Liepāja.

I am so glad that our immune system is enough strong. I will not at all enjoy a red, puffy, blocked nose. The chillness due to the almost minus thirty degrees here is enough to cause me severe discomfort.

"Do you have any idea how far we have to run from here?" Aakir asks, as we pause our running to take a breather.Aakir is looking at ease in plain jacket and soft, cotton gloves.

I do not know why he is even enquiring about how far we have to run in the cold. It's not like he is actually running, neither the cold is bothering him. In fact, nothing can bother him as of now. Mikhail insisted that Aakir start his journey in his astral form itself, as none of us are sure if we will find an enough safe place for Aakir to take a nap while he goes off onto his rescue mission in his astral form. So, Aakir's body is still back at the head colony of the Ninth Realm, peacefully resting on my grandmother, Erisna's bed. The elders gladly took the responsibility of keeping eye on Aakir's body.

Aakir has been skittish, his multi colored eerie eyes swimming with apprehension, since he left his body behind in the hands of two sixty years old. But at least he cannot feel the disdainful coldness. And the only cost is his body in the hands of two sixty years old people, and a small talon out of his astral arm, tucked away in his glove, away from the sight, so he is seeable and touchable to us.

"I have no idea." Father grunts out, his breath forming white puffs of smoke in the darkness around. He tugs his jacket closer to himself, not being immune to the cold like Aakir's astral body. He raises the torch in his hand, shedding light far up on the slope way. The light rays diverge, illuminating vague, indiscernible foot route that leads to the higher side of the inclining slope we are at. I am not even sure we are on the right path. Snow is everything that I see in every direction. Father is relying on the faded foot prints that are left in the snow, hoping to find the next village settlement. The light from the torch fades away at the distance, until I can see nothing but darkness, and slight reflectance of the white snow.

Father grunts, "Come on." He says, increasing his pace and climbing the snowy slope.

At Dudinka, the last city in the north of Krasnoyarsk Krai, I had been hopeful. The city lies in the Taymyr, though near the southern border. The view of familiar tall buildings and proper roads raised my expectations of what I should expect from my excursion. It was a refreshing change from the constant water and trees, which was all I could see for the last ten days even though our journey in the cruising ship was much, much comfortable than our present state. Even Dudinka city, though a very small and dingy city, had some decent perks to offer. But apparently, that was the last stop of comfort for us.

With much difficulty, we had hitch hiked. Once out of city, I came to know exactly why the mode of transport is not well developed in the north. The climate steadily worsened as we moved upwards. The extreme clime and the snowy slopes, as the mountains and woods came by, will persuade anyone to leave the god forsaken place and reside in the south.

It has also pointed out why there is no availability of network. In my haste, I forgot to bring my phone charger with myself. But considering the network-less environment, I don't feel much compunction over that. I am almost certain it's impossible for anyone to live in such environment. Yet, our late afternoon gifted us with the sight of a village of Enets.

Apparently, Samoyeds people are further divided into sub classes. The Enets were enough friendly, letting us know upon enquiry, that it is the Nganasans sub class of Samoyeds we are looking for. We hadn't paused for rest and continued to trek along the slopes. When the regions become absolutely secluded, we opted to transform into full animals; an improvised snow leopard. We took off in full speed, our trek bags fastened to our animal forms. Aakir needn't transform of course. He can teleport his astral form at will.

When we reached the settlement of the Nenets, we had transformed back into our human forms and clothed ourselves, before approaching the village. After inquiry and without rest, we had taken off again. But now the darkness was heavy, and the cold heavier. The cold became uncomfortable for even our snow leopard form. So, we quit our animals and now are shivering with mufflers tightly wrapped around us. Running helps in building up the heat, but still. I just wish to the triple goddess that the next settlement is of the Nganasans. We have travelled unimaginable distance through the day, mostly thanks to the secluded miles covered by our animal forms in the blink of an eye. And though we are being fast on foot too it is nearly not as fast as a leopard would be on this kind of permanent snow.

The next village, or a sort of village, since there must be all of ten homes, comes on our way, but this time father doesn't pause to raise inquisitions. It is night time anyways, past midnight. I do not even expect anyone to be awake. Or if someone is awake, then he must be on night watch and I have no inclination to get caught by a rabid tribal person. On the plus side, we are already aware of the direction we are supposed to head to, thanks to the millions of questions that father asked the previous villagers. We run on, skipping through the periphery of the settlement.

We encounter two more villages through the night and at both father doesn't bother to stop. What makes father stop next is a lone tent in the middle of a valley, with snow piling around it. It isn't exactly the sight of the tent being out here in the middle of nowhere that makes him stop. It's the three therian auras that we sense, radiating from the inside of the tent. Since they are therians, I expect them to sense us too. Well, at least sense father and I. But considering it's only nearing five am in the morning, which in this region is actually equivalent to two am elsewhere, I safely assume that the residents of the tents are deeply asleep.

Father simply stands, gazing at the tent. My impatience gets the best of me as I move forward, in sight of father to give him an inquisitive look. Father gives me a placating glance and gestures for me to stand for some time. So we stand in silence. Five minutes turn to twenty as I shiver while walking tiny steps around the same small invisible loop that I have formed in the snow. By now, even Aakir's patience waves down and he starts giving not so subtle looks towards my father, who stands motionless, staring at the tent. But this time Aakir doesn't have to put up a display of his impatience. We sense the movement of one of the therian auras inside the tent, indicating that one of them is up and about. We hear the slight Russian whispers that move about the inside of the tent and soon, the therian is walking towards the outside. Aakir and I brace ourselves behind father, waiting for the therian to move out.

The therian, a pudgy tribal man, throws aside the flap of his tent to move out. I hardly get a look of his shocked face before he is moving inside, covering the flap back. I motion to move after him, but father raises his hand, asking me to be patient yet again. We hear urgent whispers in Russian language from the inside.

Aakir and I are not really that fluent in Russian, since we have always found ourselves encountering Lettish and English the most in Latvia. But we are of Russian descent, so it's probably expected of us to be fluent in the language. I know for certain that we cannot hold up a conversation in Russian; that is one of the main reasons why most people in the Realm converse with us in English; but we can certainly understand the bits and pieces of Russian spoken by others.

And right now I can distinctly make out the Russian words spoken by the alarmed therian inside the tent. He is waking his comrades, telling them of rogues standing outside. Apparently, his nonchalance before catching our sight was because he blindly believed the therian auras outside his tent to belong to some of his comrades of their village. So, there is a village nearby and with therians. I almost sigh loudly with relief.

I am snapped out of my reverie as the same therian moves outside his tent, this time with a spear in his hand. A woman, as pudgy as the man, walks out behind him, looking as guarded as the man with something looking like a dagger in her hand. The third therian aura is still inside and I get a gut feeling telling me that this tent comprises of a family of three. And the parents, bravely sticking to an antagonistic stance, are looking terrified as of now.

I feel equally terrified. Not because the man holds a spear, but because the therians look extremely orthodox, even in their tribal world. The man is wearing a thick, furry cloth, probably of some animal's, as a sleeveless tank and a thick skirt. Their boots, made of the same material, covers whole of their legs, with the ankles supporting thick, black ancient anklets. Similar bangles dangle from the arms of both the therians, leaving their hind arm bare. The thought of the cold against their bare skin makes me cringe. But they seem unbothered. The man's long hair, as long as his female, is tied with a string at his back.

"What brings you here, rouge?" the man barks in a very thick Russian, making me strain slightly to understand his idiom.

"We are not rogues," father explains, also in Russian, his tone placid. He raises his hand in front of him, indicating no antagonism, "We belong to the Ninth Realm and we come here without enmity."

"Why are you here!" the man suddenly shouts, not at all affected by the placid tones of my father, "We welcome no therian from your world."

"We seek help." Father continues, unaffected by the raised tone of the opposition, "I wish to speak to the leader."

The man barks out a bitter laugh, "We are no monopolists like you. Everyone here is equal, a leader of his own life. You abominations think so highly of yourself, showing at my doorstep with no shame; with a spirit in tow as a slap." He glances once disdainfully at Aakir, returning his stare towards my father, "You get out of our lands if you wish to live a long life."

"I seek the land of flames." Father says, almost ignoring the jibes of this man.

The man freezes for a moment, sizing my father up. "Exiled?" he asks with enhanced derision.

"No." father calmly explains, his Russian almost as perfect as the natives, "But we have traversed miles for our destination. You need only show us the direction of the mountain we seek. We ask nothing else of you."

"You shall die." The man speaks instantly, "You're a fool to seek the lands which people wish to never see in their lives."

"I will carry that burden on my shoulders. I only seek guidance." Father says. "Please." He adds as an afterthought.

The man, looking highly peeved, moves sideways, barking at his woman to get inside the 'house'. The woman complies and the man gives a laconic gesture, indicating we walk in front of him. I feel surprised at his intrepid stance. Either he is too confident of his skills to lead three men, one of which is a spirit capable of teleporting at will, all by himself or he is ignorantly foolish to consider the adverse consequences of his actions. We don't mean any harm, obviously, but he doesn't know that. Or maybe, just maybe, he is enough good at fighting, even with his pudgy built.

After walking for almost fifteen minutes at a fast speed, we are greeted by a settlement of similar tents crowded together to form a small village. Most of the tents consist of therian auras, but some are human too. The therian leading us...well, actually he is walking behind us, with his spear aimed at us. He grunts and asks in Russian for us to wait outside a tent. He shouts the name of his comrade, making me flinch at his vociferated voice as it fills the empty night. The man shouts again, something along the lines of 'therians from the Realm'. His tone is excessively bitter.

There is some shuffling and the flap of the tent opens up. I sense auras behind me. On turning I find that the commotion has woken up many. Many therians move out of their tents, but they remain at a safe distance, right outside their tents. They only wish to witness without participation.

My attention is seized by the man who steps out of the tent we're standing in front of. He is tall, unlike the previous therian, and excessively tanned, though I cannot understand how people in such a freezing area are dark. His attire is the same, with his hair tied in two braids that fall on his shoulder. He wears a huge blanket of reindeer wool over his shoulders.

"We seek the land of flames." Father says in Russian immediately as the tall man steps out.

The tall man sizes my father up. I notice that they are almost of the same height, which is quite a feat as my father is probably the tallest person I have seen in my life so far. The pudgy therian starts explaining quickly the brief conversation that we had with him just moments before. The amount of therians in our vicinity increase steadily by the time the man is done. I feel uneasy by being surrounded by these therians.

"What do you seek there?" the tall man asks, his voice gruff, making it even difficult to understand it with the thick Russian accent going on.

"With due respect, that is a business of my own." Father says, "I do not wish to divulge it. I'll be highly gratified if you could show me the correct way."

"You have come a long way, only to rely on our sense of direction." The tall man peeves out.

It makes me realize that the man is aware of the power he holds over us now. His observation basically comes out as a threat.

"Indeed." Father says, unaffected.

"It's unlikely for you to return from there."

"I am aware." Father says again, "But we shall take our chances."

"Your courage makes me curious as to what treasure resides there." The tall man says, frowning at father. "You sure do not intend a meeting with your witch."

"I do not." Father sighs, "It is a family matter of mine."

"Someone exiled to the flames?" the man asks.

Father hesitates, "More or less." He gives in.

"You will find no living being amidst the flames."

Father sighs again, "I have my sources."

The man curiously eyes my father again. I know he intends to question the exact situation, but I am not at all comfortable with them knowing about Neal. And with father's hesitation, I am sure he agrees with me. But the man's curiosity is what seems to be gaining us a favor, so I resist the urge to retort something unpleasant at the questionnaire. Not that I can actually do that. I highly doubt my capability to form a whole, grammatically correct, Russian sentence. And I am quite assured that these people do not speak English.

At the word 'sources' the tall man's eyes inevitably move towards Aakir. By the look he gives, it's no secret that Aakir's spirit has been that source. The man, to my surprise, turns indignant.

"It's repugnant how you people utilize your abilities." The man mutters, "You have no understanding to the phrase, 'do not meddle with the natural orders'. If someone is exiled to the land of flames, then bid them a peaceful farewell. You should know better than to deal with the dark sides of our abilities."

"The person I seek," father drawls, "is alive and healthy. I do not use the dark deceptive ways; I have no need."

The man looks puzzled for a moment at my father's reply. Father loudly suspires, "Please," he says, "We only need for you to tell us the way. I assure that our excursions will not bring any ill towards your colony. Neither my excursion requires the use of the darkness to affect your nature in any way. Please, we only seek a way to the land of flames."

"Do you antagonize your witch?" the man asks after a pause.

Father looks taken aback at the question, but he answers without hesitation, "Not in the way you may interpret."

The man hums, looking thoughtful. He actually looks slightly pleased at the prospect of standing against the witch. He fleetingly glances at his people and gives them all a nod. The therians around us start dispersing and going about their work. The man motions for us to follow him. He leads us through the tents, with most of the inhabitants eyeing us with derision, and some daring, with curiosity. The man stops as we reach the periphery of their settlement. It is still dark, but somehow the snow is brighter here. I notice that five therians have followed us out as well and are now standing behind us in a protective stance. The uneasy feeling returns.

"It's not an easy task to reach the land of flames. Since you're not exiled under the witch's curse, you will face even more problems as to the exact location of the flames." The man says, taking a stick from one of his peers. He bends down, sitting on his ankles, his knee folded and starts sketching an intricate path on the plain snow.

"I thought the land of the flames has the capability to lure in anyone in the vicinity." Father says.

I frown at him. I wasn't aware of that tiny detail.

"No." the man answers, "Not anyone. When a leader exiles someone, the exiled person automatically falls under your witch's curse. Only the ones under that expatriation spell of the witches get lured in by the flames. The others, free of the curse, need to be at a certain distance to let the flames lure them in. Outside that distance you will be repelled and forced to change directions. It is usually the sense of heat that makes most people deviate. So, as long as you don't feel bothered by the consuming heat, you shall be lured without obstacles towards the land of flames." The man gives an incredulous look to my father, "You wish to step onto the flames, do not you?"

"Why, yes." Father says.

"You know the flames will burn you instantly?"

"Yes." Father drawls.

"Do you bear the witch's power?"

Father hesitates again, but ultimately gives in, "Yes."

The man grunts, "You be on this path and keep telling yourself you will not use the dark powers." He says with disdain.

Father doesn't reply and I cannot help but ponder over their conversation. It seems like this lot is convinced that anything relating to our witches consolidates with this 'darkness' that the man talks about. I give these thoughts a rain check as the man starts explaining the exact direction in which we should head. It is not a straight path as far as I can see. The man advises us to mark our turns, so to be on the right path in case we do make out of the flames alive. Somehow, the mention of the 'witch's power', which I am assuming is the scimitar, and the companionship of a spiritual therian on our side, has made the man understand the reason behind our braveness. He informs that the land is several miles away from here, making me mentally calculate the amount of time we shall consume. I have a bad feeling that we may not reach our destination on time. At least not on foot.

After a short exchange of some more bitter words, with my father remaining calm as usual, we depart in the direction the man has pointed us to begin. We run on the permafrost, the signs of civilization now long gone. Soon, slight rays of light announce dawn. Knowing too well that we are far from the land of flames, father suggests we turn into leopards again. I am reluctant as it is still enough cold but I know that we'll be faster. Now only twelve hours remain till Mikhail will summon the witch. We have to hurry if we wish to make it to land of lames within the allotted time. Not to mention, we need to be prepared for the hassles when we are near enough to the land of exile.

The time passes by in a blur as we run with the speed of a blizzard through the snowy lands, our white leopards indistinguishable against the snow. We do not pause. The map drawn on the snow by the Nganasans is etched in our mind with clarity. It's Aakir's job to mark the distinguished lands that we cross so we do not face problem on return. Once we cross a frozen lake, the weather starts deteriorating. We do not stop, even when the cold becomes almost unbearable. There is no civilization on the way and the slight change in the direction of the fleeting sun rays is the only indication of the time passing by quickly.

The darkness starts falling as dusk approaches, but we never pause in our step. Only when an extremely cold environment, the temperature of which I cannot be certain, envelops us, we slow down a little. It is getting darker and colder. Our steps completely halt when a blizzard ensues. The darkness guarantees a late time, but since yesterday I have come to realize that 'late' is actually not as late as in our daily lives elsewhere in the world. I optimistically hope that it is not seven pm yet.

The terrible cold and altered vision due to the raging environment convinces me that we are close. Father changes back in his human form, his naked body shivering madly as he grabs the bag from Aakir and starts taking out his clothes to cover himself. Dreadful, I flux myself too. The cold is unbearable even for my leopard. But not in the thousand years I could have imagined the onslaught of the cold breeze onmy naked human body as I flux. Teeth chattering, hands shaking, I grasp the clothes thrown my way and put them on, while trying to make my spine not crumble under the added pressure of the shivers.

These last eleven days have been near hell for me, despite the comfort of the cruise before trekking in the snow. Not having Neal's aura around has taken a hefty toll on me, making me an anxious mess. Therefore, it has become tenfold easier for me to ignore the harsh environment, because I optimistically believe that through this hardship, I'll be greeted with Neal's sight. That's a heavy incentive. The thought is enough to keep me going.

"Come on." Father says, his voice muffled due to the hefty blizzard. He starts running again.

Not at all appeased by the slight warmth offered by my clothes, I run behind him. The sight of the dark woods, covered with snow, makes me leap with joy.

"This way." Aakir says, leading the way towards the woods.

"Josh, drink the repellant." Father orders.

I hesitate for a moment and then I think, what the hell. I take the bag and pull out one vial, the clear liquid undergoing turbulence in my shaky hands. I crash the tip clumsily and drink the contents. It is mostly tasteless, with a peculiar after taste. For a moment, I do expect something vile to happen, but then I drop the thought and continue inside the woods.

The change is instant when we enter the sparse vegetation. It is darker, more so than it is already on the outside. The inside is protected from the blizzard ensuing outside, so that is a plus point. It is slightly warmer. Enough warm to not make me feel excessively uncomfortable due to the cold. We run through the stretch, not bothering to take in our surroundings, not that much of it is visible. We are running out of time. I can feel the change in our vicinity as we run. The warmth increases, making me feel at complete ease for now. I know the comfort won't last for long. Within minutes, we broke through the forest on the other end. What greets us is something I am not prepared for.

"Holy shit." I curse, removing my muffler quickly. Imagine walking from a refrigerator to a sauna.

"This is it." Father says, removing the heavy clothing too.

I look in front of me and see...nothing. Just plain snow extending for miles and miles. And as it is getting darker, I cannot be sure if there is any red haze there or not. I contemplate fluxing my eyes into that of an owl, but give up the thought, deciding it will not be entirely necessary. My vision is hazy but I am certain that it is only snow that lies in front of me.

"Don't remove your clothes." Father says to me as I started removing my jacket.

"It's hot." I complain.

"And it'll get freezing cold in a moment." Aakir says, "Uncle is right. Just keep wearing your clothes."

We walk onto the open space towards...well, I cannot see anything. However, after twenty to thirty steps, I pause. Father runs a hand down his face, his condition not looking too good either. I do not know the exact feeling coursing through me. I just know that I feel the urge to dip in ice water and crawl under a blanket at the same time. I can feel sweat droplets lining on my forehead, yet I can feel my spine shivering.

"You guys feeling okay?" Aakir asks in concern when father and I do not move.

"No." father manages, "I feel nauseated."

"I feel...hot and cold at the same time." I mutter, discomfited. "I have a very strong urge to remove my clothes right now."I gasp, my breath coming in short taps. Just that much long sentence has me breathless. Jesus.

"That's the repellant talking. Even that is supposed to make you warm." Father says, heaving slightly.

Fantastic, I think in sarcasm.

"Give me the bag." Father says to Aakir.

Father, his hands shaking, grabs the bag from Aakir again. He fumbles with it for a moment when I feel a blast of heat strike us. I stumble and father curses. I have an excessive strong urge to turn around and run away. But I hold my thoughts. Neal is somewhere out there, only a slight distance away from me. I resist the urge to foolishly call out to him. I really doubt if my voice will come out enough strong even if it is wise to shout his name.

Father takes out a plain looking scabbard that I have never seen before. He pulls the scimitar out of the covering, breathing deeply. He remains standing for a few moments and I find my feet retreating a few steps towards the woods behind me. I immediately halt, realizing my unconscious intention. The sudden jolt makes my head spin a little, strangely the cold enveloping me again. My sight turns into a haze as I try to get my bearings.

"Josh, you should remain beside the woods." Father, looking slightly better, says.

I am feeling too dizzy to form a coherent reply.

"Is he going to be fine?" Aakir asks dubiously as he grasps my swaying form.

"Let's get him to the woods, he'll be better there."

The thirty steps back to the woods is something I don't recall. The next thing I really notice is that I am hunching beside a frozen tree, my teeth chattering, yet my forehead sweating under the excessive heat that seems to be radiating from my body. Father and Aakir are cowering over me, with concern filled expressions.

"I am fine." I say numbly. "Time?" I ask, my breathing still shallow.

"Five past seven." Aakir says, looking concerned.

I panic, "Just go." I say to them, knowing too well that I cannot accompany them. Definitely not like this.

Father nods. "Stick to this tree. Don't go anywhere."

Father and Aakir exchange a glance. They drop the bags beside my shivering body and start briskly walking away. I watch their retreating forms and for quite a distance I can see them. And then suddenly...they vanish. I blink, grasping my muffler. Now the only thing I see is snow. I cannot see father and Aakir anywhere. As a violent shiver racks through my body, I jolt back my attention to myself, my breath puffing into white mini clouds in front of me. Most of my breath just seems to catch in my throat, freezing dead inside due to the raging cold outside. But the warmness continues to assault me as well.

Now that I completely focus, I realize that my insides feel too warm, almost to the point of discomfort. Somewhat like what I went through my maturation process. I just hope I do not start heaving. On the outside though, I feel excessively cold, the slight windy atmosphere proving to be almost unbearable. At the same time, I feel occasional blast of hot wind which is irksome to the point of making me feel nauseous. I draw my legs close to my body and bend my head so it rests above my knees. I wish the position helps in some way, but it only makes me feel dizzier.

I do not keep track of time, a thing I instantly start regretting after I feel an eon pass. Hardly aware of my surroundings, I start counting in my head, knowing that I do not have the strength to move and take out my watch from the bag, eventhough the concentration required for counting is an added stress too. This is ridiculous. I feel so useless; inept. I simply remain put, letting the time fly by, and letting the environment take a toll on me.

I am simply sitting, my head bent down and my legs drawn up when something snatches the collar of the woolen jacket I am wearing. I am so surprised that I end up stumbling as the figure in the front raises me to my feet. The shock freezes me for a long moment as I stare into the dead eyes in front of me.

"What the fuck." I rasp out, the wind suddenly feeling heavier.

"Exactly." Jermaine says, his hold tightening on my collar, "What the fuck?"

Seriously? I especially drink a discomforting liquid so nobody is able to sense me. Even then, I am the one who ends up falling into Jermaine's hands. Fate cannot be more ridiculous.

Instinctively, I feel my hand fluxing. The heaviness on my body makes the simple natural way of fluxing a never-ending task for me.

"The milieu doesn't seem to suit you." Jermaine seethes. He pushes me sideways with force unfathomed to my weak form. I find myself rolling on the snow, my body painfully contacting the frozen earth. After endless rolling, I grasp the snow. He has thrown me towards the direction of the land of the flames, exactly the last spot from where I had turned back. The heat spontaneously envelops me, making me gasp at the sudden change from cold to hot. I shakily try to pull myself up, trying to spurt out the snow that I accidently took in my mouth.

Jermaine is standing right beside me as I get up. He cocks his head to the side, glaring. In one fluid motion, which escapes my notice, he grasps my throat. My fluxed hand holds his arm, the extended nails of the talon digging in his skin. But he seems unbothered, making me frown dizzily.

"You seem to have lost your strength." He says, mockingly smiling, "And your aura." He hisses, "I'd be convinced you're a spiritual therian if not for your pathetic state. How did you get rid of your aura?" he asks, shaking my body with the hold he has on me. The movement makes me nauseous, if nothing else.

"Fuck off." I manage to rasp out.

The words are not out of my mouth before Jermaine is throwing a heavy punch on my nose. I stumble back, falling on my buttocks. Jermaine bends down to be eye level with me, "How did you get here? What is your intention here?" he asks, frowning at me. "Tell me!" he shouts when I simply stare at him. I can feel a little wetness on my lips. I taste the distinct iron taste of the blood. I am still extremely astounded to see Jermaine here. Out of everything, Jermaine? What happened to summoning the witch to the Ninth Realm? What happened to Jermaine visiting the Ninth Realm along with the Occultist? Is the Occultist even there at the Ninth Realm? Are we late? The nauseating rumbling gets overwhelming in the pit of my stomach.

"Answer me." Jermaine snaps when I still refuse to budge. His question makes me realize that I have been zoning out. "You brat-" he curses, grasping my forearm tightly.

A burning sensation instills in my arm, immediately making me snap my arm at him. I look down and through the haze see him burning my arm.

Literally burning my arm.

I yelp, taken aback by such attack. The arm of my jacket and undershirt sizzle and I push Jermaine away with as much force as I can muster. It is enough to make him stagger backwards, releasing his burning palm on my forearm. I immediately cradle my injured arm, spewing curses in mind. The push doesn't make Jermaine falter though. He is back at me, forcing me to sit on my knees. With an injured arm and a bleeding nose and a pain wrecked body with the insistent heat and coolness, Jermaine receives minimum resistance on my end. It is in that moment I notice that my fluxed arm is no longer a talon. Unconsciously, due to the burning pain inflicted on the same arm, I have fluxed it to my human hand.

"Now answer me," Jermaine snaps at me, landing quite an unnecessary punch on my jaw.

"Ow." The grunt escapes my lips unconsciously as I try to stop the vertigo feeling instigated by Jermaine's punch.

Jermaine holds the cuffs of my collar antagonistically. If not for his 'support' on my collar, I may just collapse. I feel as if he is the one because of whom I am even managing to remain erect. "Answer me, before I lose my curiosity and wring your neck, you bastard. What are you doing here?"

"Go to hell." My voice comes out as a whisper.

Jermaine gives me a twisted smirk, "I am already living it, boy." He grasps my burned arm, making me loudly hiss. "And you sure as hell are welcomed to join me." With that, a cracking sound echoes around me.As a loud, painful grunt escapes my lips I realize what he has done.

The pain feels numbing from where he is holding my burned and broken arm.

"I can spend my whole existence this way." Jermaine jeers, putting pressure on my abused arm. I feel my eyes watering with the mind numbing pain consuming me. The sudden urge to hurl makes me gasp, but I refuse to fully surrender to the anguish.

And suddenly, to add to my torment, an unexpected shocking movement makes my heart skip a beat. But in the next second, a reprieved sob silently breaks through my lips, the tears finally leaving the confines of my eyes. I watch as the blade protruding through Jermaine's chest twists a little. Jermaine's already dead eyes turn even soulless as he unblinking gazes at me, the pain consuming him keeping his mouth agape, yet no word escapes his mouth.

"You're a fool to think that I was here alone." I rasp out, tasting blood and tears on my tongue.

Jermaine, in shock, looks down at his chest at the protruding sword passing right through his dead heart. Only, the heart was very much alive once in contact with the scimitar and now it'll cease to beat for good. Slowly, Jermaine's body starts disintegrating into the white smoke. For a frightened moment I feel that he is still alive and simply teleporting, but in the next moment the white smoke spreads radially in a heartbeat. The movement is like a bomb explosion, creating a strong pulse of energy radially striking the surroundings. The pressure throws me off my guard; whatever is left of my guard anyway. I stumble on my knees, falling backward. Father's face comes into view as I feel myself falling sideways. Father is beside me in an instant, preventing me from falling head first. I try blinking rapidly, but it only makes my vision blur more.

"Go, now." he says urgently to someone behind him. Through the blurry vision I see him throwing the scimitar towards someone who I can only assume is Aakir. The figure instantly vanishes. It confuses me for a moment. Not sure if my mind is playing tricks on me or Aakir just teleported from the spot. I hear father gasp, probably at being devoid of the scimitar. But somehow, he manages to get up. Panting, he grabs my upper arms to lift me. I instantly hiss as the pressure is put on my right, injured hand. But father doesn't halt and instantly lifts me over his shoulder. I gasp at the sudden movement, my head revolving uncomfortably as the blood rushes to it. Staggered movements soon lead us to the edge of the woods, where our bags are scattered. My eyes roll in the back of my head as father dumps me down on the permafrost. Through the haze of pain, cold and unbearable heat inside, I manage to scout father as he in turn scouts my injured arm.

"D-dad?" I say, my voice quivering.

"Sshh. Don't talk." He says, "It'll be okay." And just as he says it a similar blast of energy, in the form of a pulse, hits the area. It is the same kind of radiating energy, as if exploding from a bomb, like I experienced just seconds before at the cessation of Jermaine's existence. Only, this one is much, much stronger. So much stronger, that the force of it makes me whip sideways as even father stumbles, not able withhold the strong pulse. The trees above us groan as the wave hits them and they sashay loudly, making most of the snow atop fall on us. Blast of heat and sharp snowflakes hit us square on and I find myself reeling on my spot. The pulse is enough strong to cover at least a few kilometers, I think. Too strong, too impactful.

Father raises himself, gasping for breath, as he crawls towards me. Leaning against the bark, I find myself turning towards the land of flames invisible to me. With the mind blowing pain eating me in different forms, I yearn for Neal's aura, over anything else right at this moment. And with that thought, I see two figures appearing in the distance. Too much exhausted and in too much pain, I do not even feel a sense of dread at the approaching figures. Too tired to really put up a fight in this pathetic state of mine, I simply close my eyes and wish the oblivion be less painful than what I am experiencing. I do not realize when I lose consciousness.

  23. The Reunion

The moment I get control over my conscious mind, I immediately find myself internally smiling at the comfort level I am at. More so, at the undulating waves surrounding me and pleasing me to zenith. I sink lower on the bed I am at, which is not as comfortable as I would like it to be, but the idyllic aura surrounding me makes up for it. The appeasing equanimity and the dulcet feeling make me ignore the discomfiture. Instead, I find myself focusing on the affable aura that is proving to be more than satisfactory for me.

It's been too long since I sensed Neal's aura and the present sensation makes me smile like nobody's business. I recall the events I last remember as the aura continues to soothe me. When I remember my maltreated arm, my eyes open up on their own accord. Light blue ceiling greets me and the sounds of heart monitor and the smell of antiseptics assure me that I am in a hospital. Despite the lights being on inside the room, I can make out from the daylight streaming in that it's morning time. I try to raise my injured arm, to assess the damage. The pain multiplies as I pressure my arm. I gasp and hiss, immediately removing the pressure. I couldn't even make my arm lift an inch.

The startled movement beside me takes me by surprise. I tilt my head sideways and see Neal, looking startled and dazed at the sudden sounds I have made.

"Whaa?" he drawls, his eyes filled with sleep.

I feel the corner of my lips stretching as a grin takes over me.Not in a million years I can explain the pure assuagement that comes with his sight. It doesn't even matter that his hair looks dirty and unorganized, that his eyes look dead to the world or even that there is a little drool on the corner of his chapped lips. He hastily wipes the corner of his lips as he notices that I am awake. At first a relieved look passes his face and in the next he starts looking suspiciously at my ever extending smile.

"About time. I'll get the doc." Neal says, getting up from the chair next to my bed.

My smile vanishes and I open my mouth to tell him to not go away, that I am just fine while basking in his aura, but the little bugger is faster and my throat is too slow due to the dryness. Soon, his aura escapes my senses and I become aware of the throbbing headache bursting in my head. Does Neal's aura distract me from my pains too? God, this is annoying.

I turn my head sideways, glumly taking in the room I am in. It's a large room, with five other beds, though none are occupied save for one. Now that Neal's aura is not empowering my senses, I sense another weak human aura on my far left, also hearing the steady beep sounds coming from the machine. The beds are enclosed by curtains for privacy. My bed is nearest to the door. After scouting the room, my eyes turn back towards the door, just in time for Neal to come barging in, a nurse in his tow. A small, yet very silly smile comes on my face as Neal's aura pacifies me; literally making me high.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse, an elderly woman, asks, throwing flashlight in my eyes.

I squint, "Thirsty." I manage to rasp out, though I can still feel my lips stretched into a smile. It's getting a little weird how pleased I am with Neal around me again. But I shrug the thought off for the moment.

Neal is instantly by my side, offering me the packaged water from the side table. The nurse presses a button on the side of the hospital bed that automatically inclines my upper body. I hiss silently as I absently try to raise my right, bandaged arm. Neal gives me an annoyed look as if I cannot be any stupider. I use my left hand then, chugging down gulps after gulps of water, satiating my dry throat. Nurse checks the monitor machines beside me, checks the bandage on my arm, again asks me how I am feeling, to which I complain of a slight headache. She gives me a couple of pills, assures me and Neal that my status is healthy and is out of the door, informing that the doctor will be here soon to address me.

"So," Neal says, frowning and cautiously watching me. He sits beside me on the bed, facing me. Instinctively, I move a little farther so to not accidently touch him. A small smile may be a constant on my lips for now, but it's hitting me hard to realize just how accustomed I have become to his aura. Sensing his undiluted aura through touch is definitely not something I should encourage. My slight movement doesn't go unnoticed by Neal, but seeing as he doesn't say anything and doesn't even give me a peeved look, he probably assumes that I am giving him space. "How are you really feeling?" he asks.

I shrug, "Just a headache...my arm pains when I try to move it. Else, it's okay. It can be worse." I cannot help but notice a slight slur to my words. "Am I...?" my question trails off.

But Neal understands, as he sighs and rolls his eyes, "You wouldn't be sitting with only a headache if not for the amount of drugs pumped into your system."

Jeez. And here I have been thinking how exceptionally happy I am to see Neal. I suppose it's only the drugs working their miracles. Neal is probably right. My arm wouldn't be without pain if not for painkillers swimming in my blood stream. But then, I don't expect my thoughts to be this coherent. I may be dubious about my smile being because of Neal, but a major part of my somewhat sober brain is still keeping Neal on the pedestal.

"You aren't feeling dizzy or anything?" Neal asks again.

I frown, concentrating. Except for the headache, which is turning into a dull ache thanks to the pills, I feel absolutely fine. Guess, my system is not as drugged up as Neal is assuming, since the pills seem to be making the requisite affect and not something exceptionally overpowering. I shake my head at Neal, "Nope. I feel fine."

Neal nods, looking dubious.

I roll my eyes, "I feel absolutely fine. What's the fuss about, nanny?"

Neal scowls, "Sue me for keeping the benefit of doubt. That seems to happen to me when I see a person unconscious for two days straight." He says in sarcasm.

I blink at him in shock, "Two days?"

"Two and a half, technically. Actually, make that three."

"You're shitting me."

Neal rolls his eyes, not responding to my jibe.

"What day is it?" I ask, horrified.

"Friday."

Friday. We had reached the land of flames on Tuesday evening. So it has been two and half days, technically.

"Are we back at Krasnoyarsk?" I ask, stupidly. Instantly I remember that it is almost a ten day trip back to Krasnoyarsk.

"No." Neal sighs, "We are at Dudinka. It took quite an effort to get you even here. You're not exactly a lightweight."

My frown deepens, "How did you get me here?"

"Your father carried you. The people of the first village that we encountered on our return were hell rude. Not that I could understand what they were saying, but for the first time I saw your father even remotely angry. So, I don't suppose they were exchanging sweet words."

"Are you talking of the Nganasans?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's what Aakir was calling them. He told me they use some spiritual power to heal people. They refused to help when we brought you to them. Your father was pissed as hell."

"Those aren't exactly a friendly bunch." I agree, "It was a miracle they gave us the direction to the land of flames. I think they did that because either they believed we wouldn't survive it, or they were smugly assured that we are antagonizing the Witch. They are a weird bunch."

"Yeah... they weren't keen at helping us at all. Which was a surprise for me. Aakir told me that they are also therians and somehow I expect therians to help other therians....but, whatever. So, we moved on. The next few villages-"

"Wait a second." I interrupt, "Didn't Nganasans say anything about you? They must have sensed-"

"No, they didn't." Neal says, fumbling with his pocket. He takes out something from his pocket and raises it up so I can see. It's one of the vials that David had given us. "Your father and Aakir made me drink this immediately on our escape. It suppresses my aura."

"I know." I mumble, somehow the idea of Neal without his aura upsetting me. Good thing that I was unconscious.

"Aakir was saying that those Nganasans thought I am a spirit too. That actually contributed to their antagonism towards us." Neal admits sheepishly. "But the next villages on our way were more hospitable. Although none had enough sophisticated treatment for your arm. On top of it you weren't getting up. It were quite a two tough days."

I sigh, leaning back and resting my head against the pillow. "I am glad we are out of there." I mutter, watching the blue ceiling above, "Jermaine's sight was a shock to me."

A silence commences, making me frown. I turn my gaze towards Neal. He is watching me apprehensively, looking almost, almost scared. Though 'Neal' and 'scared' don't really mix as per theory.

"What?" I ask at his stare.

Neal hesitates, then sighs loudly, "You shouldn't feel too glad. The cat's not quite out of the box yet."

"Er," I say, "Okay." A pause, "Is the Ninth Occultist parading the Realm now?" I ask, slight bitterness in my tone. But I cannot help it. Here I am, on a hospital bed with an incapable arm and my partner's aura that I have sensed after almost two weeks. Sue me for seeking some peace, probably without any Witch around.

Neal takes a long while to respond. His face is indiscernible as he watches me, his stance full of apprehension as he mutters the next words which hit me square in the face, "The Ninth Occultist is dead."

"...What?"

Neal licks his lips, looking nervous, "She's dead." He says plainly.

I blink once, twice, thrice. I straighten my back as I take in the information. Absentmindedly, Neal stretches his hand and starts puffing the pillow behind me for comfort. But I do not lean back.

I minutely shake my head, trying to get rid of the jumbled thoughts, "Witches cannot die." I say, meaningfully looking at him.

Neal subtly rolls his eyes, annoyed that I am picking at such a thing. "Then she has ceased to exist." He rephrases.

I shake my head, "They're immortal."

"I killed her myself, okay? I could tell that she doesn't exist anymore."

Neal immediately purses his lips after his outburst, as if he wasn't intending to spill that. He looks around the room once, fearing eavesdroppers. But his words have flowed out in a harsh whisper, so he needn't worry. Besides the only human is this room is snoring slightly. But I don't tell him that. Instead he receives an absolute blank look from me.

"How?" is the word that gets past my lips after an eon. Neal looks terribly upset after his confession. At my question, his shoulders slump further.

"With that sword." He mumbles.

The holy scimitar. Nobody informed me that that simple junk of metal, that supposedly bears the prowess of a witch, has the capability of eliminating witches. Or does someone even know? Has anyone in the past ever stood up against the Occultists and tried to see what brings them down?

I raise my good hand and run my palm over my face. "How?" I repeat, with certain edge in my voice now. I hope he understands that I seek an elaborated version.

"I didn't intend to." Neal speaks up, defending himself in the similar fashion he had defended his future seeing abilities for The Plutocracy. "Holding the sword made the binding spell of the Occultist on me disappear. I could move only when I held it. You think the Occultist would have let Aakir and I pass out onto the flames without a bit of retaliation on her part? It was an instinctive reaction on my part when she attacked."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the normal process of breathing feeling like a task. This is too surreal. "So, you just attacked her with the sword?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"What did you want? For me to surrender to her and stay behind?"

I glare at him.

"Don't give me that look." He snaps, "I am not entirely pleased with my actions either. But the least you can do is be a little happy that I am back."

"I am happy." I retort, scowling.

Neal snorts, "I can see that."

"Can the sarcasm." I snap, "Do you even realize what you're saying you've done? This is almost unbelievable. The occultists are like Gods, next to our Triple Goddess, for us."

Neal gives me a deadpan look, "I don't think your fugly Occultists serve your 'triple goddess'. Hell, I don't think your 'triple goddess' is even real."

"Seriously? You want to have a debate over our gods?"

"I don't give a damn who you believe in, Josh. Worship a pony for all I care. But if I am saying now that your triple goddess doesn't exist, it's not because of the whims of my belief in Jesus or in any other god for that matter. The 'house' of your Occultist wasn't exactly a shrine to your triple goddess. It was an empty cottage built of dark flames, where your so called Occultist recuperated herself so to be in a form in which she could converse with me. And our conversations didn't revolve around how mighty it'd be of me to serve your triple goddess and help the world be a better place. It included threatening banters; with your Occultist demanding me to envisage ill situations over her competitors. And guess who that might be? Her fellow sisters. The so called other acolytes of your Triple Goddess. Tell me Josh, if your Goddess is really there, why isn't she preventing her own acolytes, her own power holders, from backlashing at each other?"

Neal heaves a deep breath after his rant. I have no reply for his frustration, but more than anything it's the use of my first name that gives me enough pause to really observe Neal. He gives me a miffed look. Cautiously, he looks around the room again, as if expecting someone to jump out of the corner. Now that I notice, he actually looks a little shaken up. I notice his hands trembling a little, but he automatically grasps the bed sheet to prevent the shaking. He doesn't return his gaze at me.

"Aakir told me that the Ninth Occultist asked you to look over the First Occultist." I say, calm, now feeling in a position to grasp the whole story.

"Demanded." Neal corrects, "As if I am her servant or something. Seriously, Lichinsky, I don't think the likes of her can be connected to any omnipotent being. When Aakir had helped me project, to enquire about my whereabouts, that one time was the only opportunity I got to look over the First Realm business. I was almost expecting something ungodly to be occurring with the way Ninth Occultist had asked me to see it. But everything was normal there, as normal as it can be. Their witch's abode was also in the snow, I think in Alaska, but I am not sure. Anyways, when I told the Ninth Occultist of the normality there," he gives me pissed off look, "she asked me to envisage the devastation of the First Occultist's abode, with a slight calamity in the most concentrated colonies of the First Realm as a bonus. Now tell me, Josh, is this supposed to be some sort of a tribute to your Triple Goddess?"

I ignore Neal's mocking tone and frown, "Why would she do that?" I ask, indignant.

I used to be vexed at Neal using his abilities for The Plutocracy and even more annoyed at other people, even Aakir, using my partner's ability for their benefit. I remember how miffed I had been when Aakir requested Neal to envisage Silvia's future. That had at least been requested to receive some sort of goodness, even if it slammed back in their faces. But this...the Ninth Occultist asking my partner to develop a deteriorating future for someone, pisses me off to no end.

Neal huffs, "They're jealous of each other. That's why. The Ninth Occultist didn't consider that the vaticinator's domicile lies with the First Occultist. Your First Occultist is supposed to be the strongest. And the first thing the Ninth Occultist asked me was to adversely aim the strongest of the lot.What does that make you think?"

I blink at him for a few moments, my expressions schooled, thinking of all of my conversations with Mikhail and my father regarding the Occultists.

"What do you think killed the Occultist?" I ask.

Neal looks surprised at my question, but then he frowns, "Your father said that the sword bears the power of a witch..." he trails off, looking doubtful.

"...So," he continues, "A witch's power can kill another witch?" he ends dubiously.

I give him a disappointed look, "You're supposed to be intelligent."

He scowls at me, "Sorry, I didn't do, neither I intend to do, a major in paranormal sciences."

"If simply a witch can kill another witch, then don't you think the witches would have done that a long while ago? As you so point out, they're 'jealous' of each other and interpreting from your words, each of them, or at least the Ninth Occultist, seeks power over a much larger portion of the world than she is currently holding. If she is blindly driven by her motives and her 'witchy energy' is fatal to other witches, then don't you think some of them would already be dead through these years?"

"Don't." Neal says, his trembling becoming noticeable, but the stubborn tic in his jaw remains. He probably understands what I am implying. And judging by his reaction, he has probably come to the same conclusion somewhere deep down in his mind.

"The vaticinator can kill the witches." I put it into words anyways.

Neal scowls at me, "I am not testing that theory."

I scowl right back at him, "You already have." As the fascination of my discovery wears off, I realize just how much this little information ticks me off. Seriously, why does my partner has to be the epitome of everything unwanted? Why does he have to be the vaticinator? Why does the Occultist want to use his power, and why the hell does it require an obsessive possession of my partner? And now, why does he have to be the ultimate weapon against those cunning witches? Most of all, why does he even have to be a 'he'?

The poignant thoughts feel suffocating as I turn my gaze away to find something interesting on the wall in front of me.

"I don't think it's just me." Neal mumbles after sometime. In my peripheral vision, I see him fidgeting with his hands. Is it just me, or these few days with the Occultist have made him slightly edgy? "I think it might be the combination of the witch's power and my inherent repertoire energy." He tiredly rubs his face as he says it. I give him a silent look and he goes on, "I couldn't overcome the Occultist's spell on my own, that means the energy I carry is not sufficient to overpower a witch. Only when I had the sword in my hand could I...well." He shrugs. He suddenly looks up, frowning, "Though it was surprising that her power didn't work on Aakir's astral form. On second thought, not so surprising. I suppose they cannot overbear spirits. If they could, then the Occultist could have made me project on her own. I am glad that I couldn't project a second time in that cottage, howsoever annoying it was."

"You and Aakir escaped the cottage after you...killed the Occultist?" I ask, digging for details.

"She turned up out of nowhere. She realized soon enough that her spells aren't working on us. She saw the sword in my hands. In fact," he tilts his head, frowning, "now that I recall, it seemed like she was motioning to grasp the sword from me. But I took her movement as an assault and just...rammed it through her. She disappeared, her energy radiating in an explosion."

I do remember feeling the strong explosion like pulse before I lost consciousness, but...

"How do you know for sure that she is...dead?" I ask dubiously.

"She is." He affirms, "Gut feeling. I don't know how to explain it, but I just know. Just like I knew instinctively that Aakir's in his spirit form."

I frown at that, "You could make out?" I ask. Aakir's visible spirit form and real physical form are almost indistinguishable for me. Until and unless I see a fluxed part of his body.

"Gut feeling..." he drawls, looking slightly self-conscious.

Yeah, right. The perks of being a vaticinator.

"Where was dad?" I ask instead. I look around, expecting father to appear out of nowhere, "Where is he now, actually?" I ask.

"Took you long enough to notice his absence." Neal says dryly, "Your father was with you when the Occultist appeared in the cottage. Since there was only one sword and it could protect only one person against the flames, your father had returned back to you and given the sword to Aakir so he could bring it to me. That was when the Occultist turned up."

"She wasn't supposed to be there." I say, angrily.

"I know. Your grandfather explained later that she had sensed her sycophant's cessation and that's why instantly returned back."

"Even Jermaine was not supposed to be there." I say, galled.

"About that...Jermaine had returned from the mansion as soon as he didn't see you people there... He doesn't really prefer remaining at the core of the flames, where I resided. He usually hung about the periphery. That's where he returned to when he saw no one at the mansion, save for your grandfather. You were waiting right there, I think." I nod at Neal's questioning stare, but then realize that his inquisitive stare is for something else, "What's Jermaine's deal with your family?" He says.

I sigh. "Long story. I'll tell you later. Where is father now?"

"Your father's on way to Krasnoyarsk right now. Even Aakir is in Krasnoyarsk as of now. He teleported ahead of your dad. Just to see what's going on in the mansion....he'll be back soon."

"What's to see there?" I ask, annoyed, "Our bags are packed. We'll just pick them and return to Latvia instantly."

"Not so easy."

"Look, we'll handle the First Realm. Coming to this Realm did no good to us, and we left our home behind for it. We'll mange somehow." I say, trying to be optimistic. All I know is that I don't want to stay in this Realm for one more second.

"It's not about the First Realm." Neal says, slightly hesitative.

I stare at him, "Then what?"

He sighs, "Josh...I just killed an Occultist. What are you expecting when we get back?"

I give him a blank look.

"As soon as we reached an area with a telephone booth," Neal begins, "Your father called your grandfather. By the way, good job at forgetting the phone chargers behind."

I feel myself blush, "We were in a hurry." I dismiss the topic. Considering the lack of connectivity past Dudinka, we hadn't deemed it important when we left the mansion. But now that he points our lack of communicating ability, I feel a sudden urge to talk to father. We can always use the hospital phone, though I don't know if I really want to go through the pain to reach the reception just so to let my father ask me how I am doing. I don't even know on which floor we are.

"Anyway," Neal continues, "Your grandfather knew that the Ninth Occultist is dead. He elaborated and explained that the witches can sense when one of their sisters die...the witches are sort of bonded too. The Second and the Eight Occultist paid a visit to the head council of the Ninth Realm."

"You're kidding me."

"They have, in subtle ways, threatened the Ninth Realm," Neal continues, ignoring my interruption, "and are demanding the presence of the culprit within fifteen days...well, fifteen days from the day the Ninth occultist died. And today is the fourth day."

"Just...so....well, is this-"

"Your father is going there to settle things....or that's what he said. I don't know what that implies. And since, as your father informed me, our whole family vanished more or less on the same day from the head colony, the head council is hell bent at demanding our family back."

Through the appalled state of my mind, I cannot help but notice Neal referring to all of us as 'our' family, like he belongs right there with us. I bite my inner cheek to sabotage the smile threatening to burst on my lips. That would just be highly inappropriate considering our tensed conversation. Besides, I don't really know why I am feeling so happy. I count him as family anyway, even if at a subconscious level, and know that my family counts him as amongst one of us too. It's just that I am hearing Neal admit it for the first time that also in such a casual, if subtle, fashion.

"I hate the council." I say, not able to form an enough coherent reply.

"Yeah...your father sounded highly peeved when talking of them too. He is taking confidence in my aura in hiding us, because he definitely expects the council to send men in search of us."

"So, what? We are fugitives now?"

"In the eyes of your council, definitely." Neal mutters, "Your grandfather sounded as if he was having a hard time against the council. They are enraged, according to him. 'Cause as you just said a few moments before, you guys literally count the Occultist as your second Gods. And I just killed one of them."

"We should go back. They'll eat Mikhail alive." I express indignantly, recalling just how anti-Lichinsky the whole ninth realm is.

"That's why Aakir is already there and your father is on his way to the mansion." Neal hesitates, "I'm not very comfortable with the idea of them being there. In fact...I was thinking of going back, but one, travellingwould not be recommended in your state and two, your father's orders were strict. We're to stay here. Seriously, I have seen enough of your father's anger."

I go quiet as he so casually points out his own dilemma. Of course he will come in the bad books of the council. The council already had their paws extended for Neal; now they all must be in absolute desperation to have Neal all to themselves. But this time, Neal's usage for his abilities will not be the only thing for which they'll demand him.

"Don't go on thinking about travelling back." Neal scowls, wrongly assuming my thoughtfulness. "Have you seen your condition?" he points at my arm, "Your burn didn't even allow your arm to be in a cast. It'd be a miracle if you can even shift it on the bed. You're talking about going back and facing angry animals."

Completely off topic, I scowl at my limp arm. It is in a sling, plain black colored. A portion of my arm, supposedly the brunt portion, is covered in bandages. Neal is right; it is not in a cast. I cannot forget how cruelly Jermaine had twisted my arm, causing it to crack. I wince at the memory. Now that I really focus, the burnt portion doesn't seem to bother me much. It is already prepped up, decorated with soothing bandages. It's the crack in my bone that isn't allowing me movement.

I pick up the strap of the sling with my left hand and put it around my neck. The motion causes my arm to fold up and cradle near my chest in the sling. I bite my lip as pain explodes with the spontaneous movement. I grunt and cover my injured arm with my non injured arm, hoping for relief.

"Lichinsky!" Neal hisses, instantaneously getting up and motioning to cradle my already cradled arm. His arm, so near to mine, reflexively makes me flinch back. The slight movement causes another bout of pain to explode in my arm.

Neal raises both his hands, palm facing me as if pacifying me, "I won't touch you." He snaps angrily, "Just don't move."

Warmth drenches my face at his words. Of course I know that Neal, at some subconscious level, is aware of my reluctance to even accidently touch him. But I didn't know that it is so blatant to make him address the issue openly and in a prissy manner.

"Sit tight, I'll get the nurse." He says.

"No." I say through clenched teeth, "Don't. I am fine."

Neal looks dubious. I carefully lean back, resting against the pillow. I school my features as the pain becomes a dull ache in the background. My stance has normalized enough to make Neal comply and he sits back beside me, this time deliberately keeping his distance and making sure that I am noticing his effort.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Silence commences. I simply lean my head back and focus on wishing the pain away. The only sounds in the room are the ones from the numerous machines. The human is still snoring, I notice.

"So," Neal says after a long pause, "What's the fuss about?" he asks.

I frown at him, not understanding, "You mean besides the fact that all the Occultists and our native Realm people are kind of hunting us?" I ask sardonically.

Neal doesn't even bat an eye, "I am talking about this." He gestures between us, "Why do you freak out when I get close enough to touch you?"

His question sounds wrong on so many levels that I find my lips automatically stretching in a smirk.

"It's nothing." I calmly reply,keeping the joke to myself.

"Yeah, right." Obviously he doesn't believe it. And neither does he settle by the amused look on my face.

"Can't I have my personal space?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

Neal turns red, his face going from irritated to indignant in a flash, "You weren't so obvious about it before!" he snaps. "What changed, huh?" he challenges.

Of course, a few accidental touches had taken place. Those were the ones which made me realize that I shouldn't even encourage those slight touches. I don't answer Neal. A few seconds of silence pass, but this time Neal seems to be adamant. Not that it's a surprise, I am just pointing.

"Would you speak up?" he demands.

I huff at him, "Neal, it's nothing. Why are you making a scene of it?"

"Because it never seems like 'nothing'." Neal pauses, "Is there something I don't know?"

"...what are you expecting?" I almost give him a droll look.

"I don't know." He humorlessly laughs, "All I know is that I fucking hate secrets." He stresses on the word 'secrets'.

I stare at him. He is angrily staring back. I can brush off the topic again, but somehow his angry stance makes me hesitate. Neal hates secrets; that is something which is not unknown to anyone. Be it knowing about his abilities and what it entails; be it knowing about his failure of a pseudo family; be it knowing about him being my partner and what that entails; everywhere Neal prefers to be aware of the whole situation, even if the knowledge is not to his liking. I can brush him off now, what about tomorrow? Next week? Next month? Hell, next year? What about after ten years? Will I be lying to him even then? It's strange that I have already assumed that he'll be constant around me through my life. But it's sort of an automatic thought now.

"Well?" Neal prods, a steely look on his face.

"Seriously? We've probably got ourselves tailed, with our elders on a homicide watch, and you're asking me questions, answer to which may be as vague as 'germaphobia'."

"We've got all the fucking time in this world, Lichinsky. I can listen to hundreds of vague lies before you decide to spill the fucking truth."

He is cussing more than he does in his normal stubborn mode. He is definitely pissed off.

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck with my left hand. I can forget having it easy with Neal by my side. I mentally scoff, slightly ticked off at how he always gets all the things his way. "It's a therian thing." I mutter, averting my eyes.

"I figured that much."

"Just leave it be. It's no big deal."

"What, are therians supposed to be allergic to their partners?" He asks, ignoring me.

Quite the opposite, I want to say, but I refrain. Now I am wondering how come we even landed in this conversation, when we have such bigger issues on our head. But I guess whatever Neal is adamant about, that becomes automatically important. I still feel heat creeping on my face at the potentially embarrassing conversation that is about to take place.

"You know," Neal starts, his voice much calmer, "all I have been asking of you since the beginning of this whole ordeal is that you be honest with me and don't hide things from me, at least the ones that concern me. Is that too much to ask? But fine...you just want to go with your whims..." Neal looks doubtful for a second as he goes on. He purses his lips in distaste suddenly, "Fuck it." He snarls, back to his bitchy tone, "Just tell me what it is?"

I smirk slightly. He almost, almost said that it's fine if I am not comfortable with sharing, but seeing as how he couldn't even finish that sentence, I can safely conclude that consideration of others is not Neal's strongest point.

My smirk vanishes as Neal continues to glare at me. I mentally fidget as all of his focus centers on me. Here goes nothing.

"I don't want to become accustomed to it." I say in one breath, hoping my face is not as red as it feels.

Neal frowns, "Accustomed to what?" Dubiously, he leans back, his expression suggesting that his mind is in the gutter.

I speak before he can assume the worst. "Your aura feels too potent on touch." I explain, "I don't want to get accustomed to that."

Neal takes a long time to contemplate over that, frowning through it. "I thought....I thought my aura is potent to you as it is..."

I sigh, "Yeah...that was in comparison to others. While others hardly get affected, your aura is too empowering for me. On touch, it is even more potent. Your aura doesn't get time to dilute in space and so I get slammed with its highest potency...so..."

"What's the problem in getting accustomed to it?" he asks.

I stare at him for a long time, wondering if he is playing me. Neal is not this dumb.

"You mean, what's the problem in getting accustomed to touching you?" I rephrase, focusing on my last two words.

Neal realizes what his question entails and he opens his mouth to probably correct himself, "I meant," he briefly closes his eyes, furiously frowning, "Why the hell would you get accustomed? No, I mean, why will it make you accustomed to it? Wait...what I mean is...even a simply handshake is forbidden now?"

"You mean how can even slight touchesmake me habitual?" I ask, guessing from his scrambled questions. Neal is rambling. It's weirdly funny, considering the situation. I have never seen Neal taken so off guard. He is usually collected, even at the most embarrassing of things.

"Yeah and...well, this is fucking stupid."

I shrug, "I have been hanging around you since a lot of days and not even once I thought that your aura constantly around will get me habituated. But I got used to it, too much in fact. This last two weeks weren't pleasant for me." I turn my gaze away, "Obviously I do not want to get used to with something even more empowering."

Neal doesn't say anything for a long time. When I turn to look at him, he is frowning, his eyes glaring daggers at the bed sheet.

"I don't get it." He says suddenly, lifting his head to look at me.

I raise my eyebrows at him.

"I thought my aura made you feel on top of the world." He says.

"Um, yeah, kind of, yeah." I stutter.

"So, sensing my aura through touch feels better than being on top of the fucking world?"

I contemplate his question for a moment, "As I said, touching offers me your aura without dilution. The highest concentration of aura possible. Imagine 98 percent sulfuric acid instead of 10 percent."

"Acid burns." He babbles.

"I talk in terms of strength, not the effect."

Neal's eyes flutter impatiently at my innuendos, "I am not asking for technicalities. What does it feel?"

"Eh....just...higher version of what I usually feel of your aura." I shrug.

Neal frowns, "So...just more sappily happy?"

"...Yeah."

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"What does it feel?"

Jesus, I really don't want to have this conversation.

"Lichinsky?" he says sternly when I don't respond.

"Ugh, you're worse than Aakir." I mutter.

Neal doesn't falter, glaring at me incessantly. I don't think I have much of a choice than be openly honest. And I am counting on Neal's irked stance to lessen the awkwardness. Because god knows I am not in the mood for an uncomfortable air.

I sigh, "I am able to feel the senses exhibited in your aura." I tell him quietly. He leans forward, to listen better.

"You can sense it without any contact as well." Neal points out.

I shake my head, "I can determine the feelings disposed in your aura, but I cannot feel them. I just know that your aura expresses excitement, a positive apprehension and a sense of deep felicitousness. And it makes me feel good upon sensing it, like rejuvenation, acting as a source of equanimity for me. But on touch, I can even feel the emotions of your aura and the goodness that I am already feeling due to your aura gets further enhanced."

I am very pleased to notice that our conversation is not as awkward as it was the first time I disclosed the effects of his aura. I suppose we have grown enough comfortable with each other in the gone weeks to not make a fuss of such revelations. But we are not completely competent, still managing to somewhat be inept. That small maladroitness in our friendship is something that I can never imagine going away. I will always be reluctant in revealing something absolutely mushy to Neal regarding our bonding, despite feeling reprieved afterwards. I will always have a slight blush on my cheeks, despite the comfort level I have attained with Neal. And I will never understand the exact reasons behind such ineptness of mine, especially when I am aware that Neal is enough mature to not regard my admissions to be blushing worthy.

Neal clears his throat, snapping me out of my reverie. He seems to be thinking, looking confused, surprised and amused all at once.

"That's it?" he confirms, lifting his eyebrows.

I shrug, "More or less." I mumble.

Neal suddenly smirks, though it looks tired, "You therians have twisted lives."

I roll my eyes, "It gets weirder when you have a vaticinator for a partner."

"I didn't ask for this life."

"You're saying as if I demanded this life of mine."

Neal shrugs, rubbing the side of his face, looking thoughtful. After a moment he begins, "You said that last two weeks weren't pleasant?"

I hum, averting my eyes again.

"Well, I meant in regard to my aura."

I look back at him, feeling exceptionally surprised to see Neal's face tinted pink. To his credit, his expressions are set, not giving away that he is blushing. Blushing for whatever reason.

"Yes." I say. Neal gives me a dull look, making me sigh. I should know that I will have to elaborate anyway. "It just kept me on edge." I tell him. "Skittish."

"That's weird." He comments.

"I suppose. I just know that I don't want to further test on this. Neither in regard to your absence, nor in regard to physical contact."

Neal looks surprised for a moment, making me inquisitively eye him.

"What?" I ask.

Neal shakes his head slowly, "Nothing." He mutters.

I give him the same look that he gives me when he is demanding an explanation out of me. Neal rolls his eyes.

"Just....feeling a little surprised at your determination." He says dryly, "First of all, I don't think that accidently touching or shaking my hand once in a while will get you accustomed. Secondly...well, it just seems a little fishy. You have found something of extreme mental pleasure and you've determined not to experience it? Honestly, Lichinsky, you're not really that tenacious."

"Gee, thanks." I glare at him, "I just don't want to take chances and end up making wrong judgments. And are you really encouraging me to hang out with you, hand in hand?"

Neal, just like me, blushes furiously at that. But he tames it, scowling at me instead. "What the fuck? That's not what I meant and you know it. And what the hell do you mean that you'll make wrong judgments?"

Oops.

"What?" I feign innocence.

Neal is not fooled. His scowl deepens, "What else does physical contact entail for you?" he asks, his tone harsh.

I huff, "It clouds my sane judgment." I snap, feeling irritated, "Happy?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It makes me biasedly think only good things." I reply, defeated.

Neal stutters for a moment, not expecting such a response. "What, it suddenly makes you optimistic?"

I believe myself to be optimistic as it is, not overtly so, but within the limits of reality. Therefore, it is no wonder that his question makes me frown at him. "Well," I say, "Let's just say it can make me converse normally with Viktor."

Neal wears a stoic expression at that. He pauses for a long moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers for a moment. He looks back up with a surprisingly calm face and starts, "So, you're saying, that if I touch you right now, you'll stop being an annoying shit?"

I glare at him, "If you're referring to my retorts-"

I feel his touch, before I see his hand moving. It surprises me for a quick moment at how adroitly, almost effortlessly, Neal has grasped my uninjured arm. It surprises me more that my reflexes fail to act in retrieving my hand away in time. Either the medication is definitely affecting me in some way or another, though my coherent thoughts and striking ability to verbally fight even in such a state suggest the opposite. Or it can just be my unconscious desire to experience Neal's touch, to succumb to the numbing pleasure just once.

In any case, my eyes dart downwards towards my arm lying beside me. Neal's hand is now grasping my wrist. His hold is loose, not firm, not putting any force into holding, as if he is uncertain about the movement. It is enough loose that if I wish to snap my hand away, then I will be able to do so easily. Well, even if Neal holds me with strength, then also I am sure that my therian strength will be more crediting. But the sudden changes in my senses convince me to just stay put.

My arm slacks further, as if encouraging Neal to tighten his hold. I can almost hear my heart thundering to a rapid speed as a blissful feeling spreads though me, even making my toes tingle with apprehension. For a moment, the eternally exultant feeling swimming in the pit of my stomach is all I can focus on. In that fleeting moment, I ponder over the thought of getting used to this sensation. Even if I get deprived of this feeling later then also the transitory phase will be worth the eventual hassle. It's not every day I get up and feel happy, for no reason whatsoever. Neal's hold is providing exactly that to me right now; the stimulus that is instigating my happiness, without any reason. I am mostly feeling the dispositions of his aura, but who cares as of now. I'm almost convinced that holding his hand all the time is not such a bad idea. So what if people will point in our directions? They're not the ones blessed with a partner.

"Feeling okay?" Neal asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. He is smirking, almost silently laughing at my sudden quiet state.

And I realize that most of my thoughts are actually Neal's hand on my wrist talking in my mind.

But again, who cares?

Right at this moment, I do not.

I grunt in reluctant approval to Neal. He is not fooled, his smirk growing on his face, threatening to grace me with his evened teeth. His amused reaction makes me wonder what it is exactly that is showing on my face. But I don't get to ponder it for long, as Neal speaks up again.

"I wanted to ask something." He starts. He adjusts his hold on my wrist casually, so our hands are comfortably seated beside me.

"What?" I manage to respond through the daze.

"How long did your maturation last?"

A shadow of a frown greets my forehead, making me crinkle my nose slightly. My rapid running heart distracts me from my thoughts, but I manage to remember that I have never actually revealed the details about the maturation of a therian. Sure, he knows that only a mature therian can sense his or her partner, but that is about it. I briefly wonder if Neal didn't encounter this subject in the gazillion books that he has read since in this Realm.

"Maturation of a therian usually takes up to ten hours or so." I say.

Neal shakes his head, "I know how you guys mature. I am not asking in generality. I am asking about you. How long did yours last?"

"Well," I say, remembering the day of my maturation that seems to have happened an eon ago, but it has only been over a month and a half in reality. I remember being apathetic when it began, my blank thoughts slowly giving rise to an incomprehensible dread of somehow disappointing my father. I remember my family being joyous on receiving the news, their happiness doubled by the news of Aakir's partner as well. I remember my family's anxious stance when I didn't mature the next day, their mood taking a down road when even Aakir expressed sourness over his rapport with his partner. But most of all, the main thing I remember is that both the days, or rather nights, my father was right there beside me. Out of duty, or love, or for simple wordless comfort, father had sat through the night of my illness, sitting unwavering even through the crack of dawn. And I remember feeling exceptionally happy, almost giddy, at his unspoken affection. "It had taken me almost two days." I reply to Neal, feeling unexplainably overwhelmed.

Neal smiles, looking relieved. His hold tightens on my wrist, growing firmer; confident. Distractedly, I notice that his hand is cold, not uncomfortably so, just enough to provide me comfort, like the cold environment of Liepāja does. It is familiar, within my comfort zone.

"I had had an argument with the Ninth Occultist." Neal reveals, "Regarding you. She was convinced, just like everybody else, that a guy cannot be my partner." He rolls his eyes at the end, "She said that my partner will have major adjustments to make during the maturation, and hence the process would be longer than that of an average therian's."

"I thought....the Occultists don't speak much."

Neal chuckles, as if amused that I am picking on such a thing. "Well, I agree. I had to persuade a lot. My tantrums helped. Her voice was unpleasant though. Very throaty and raspy. She was ugly anyway." He shrugs. "The books that I read on them didn't really do justice to their ugliness."

"Did you read any books on the vaticinator?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"There are no books on the vaticinator." He says, giving me an 'are-you-kidding-me' look. But he shouldn't be staring at me. He is aware that I am not really a book worm, therefore shouldn't expect me to be knowledgeable about what all topics of our world are published. "Anyway. I knew the Occultist was wrong. About the partner thing I mean." Neal continues, reverting back to the previous topic, apparently not done with it. "It strengthened my opinion that she is no omnipotent being. If she were, she would have known better."

I realize that Neal is actually rambling. His eyes are roaming about our vicinity, his hold unconsciously growing tighter, his words flowing too fast, as if he wants to get it off his chest quickly. And through the ever growing haze around my mind, I understand Neal's hidden message.

There have been too many occasions on which Neal was forced to doubt the authenticity of my claim on him. Every time we have landed in an argument over the subject of partners, it has ended with me always pointing out that this is not a topic of debate. He is my partner, and that is that. To hell with what other people have to say about it. This time, I realize with surprise, that I have no antagonistic response over his 'discussion' with the Occultist regarding ourselves.

It dawns on me that Neal wasn't chuckling in amusement that it is the Occultist's reluctance to engage in conversation that I am focusing on. He basked in amusement because apparently I had no negativity to contribute to his revelation. But I don't feel ticked off at my unconventional responses and by Neal's smugness that follows. In fact, I find myself feeling stupidly happy to know that in very, very subtle words Neal is conveying that he didn't believe the Occultist's opinion on our bond, not even for a second, despite her being regarded as an almighty amongst therians.

"Everybody had grown quite anxious during my maturation." I tell him. "In fact, I never pondered afterwards over why my maturation had taken so much time."

"Now you know." Neal replies. "Apparently, to sense my aura at a level that will classify me as your partner, your senses need to be far more sensitive than that of normal therians."

"All because of the unhealthily diluvian amounts of energy in your aura."

Neal scoffs quietly but doesn't comment. We fall into a comfortable silence, though we are not meeting eyes. Neal's hand is still wrapped around my wrist. I don't know if he is intentionally keeping the hold or he is not paying much attention to it anymore. Either way, I am glad, as I sit back, quietly sighing and reveling in the pleasant thumping sensations humming through my body cells. I'll have my life set if every day is to be like this, spent in peaceful, idyllic oblivion. But everything, good or bad, comes to an end.

"Um, Guys?"

"Holy shit." I curse at the unexpected voice and sight.

"God, give a heads up before you show up next time." Neal exclaims,as much startled as I.

Aakir hardly looks apologetic, as he nods somberly, thrusting his fluxed paw in the pocket of his trousers. Having appeared on the other side of the bed, he moves to stand right beside me, gesturing at my injured arm, "You're up and about." He comments.

I shrug slightly, "I am sure you believed that I would survive." I say dryly, actually pleased to see Aakir here.

Aakir simply hums, his eyes diverting from my face. He looks solemn, making me wonder what has him so glum. Aakir's eyes abruptly stop at a spot, his tall figure instantly going rigid, though his face hardly expresses anything except for the same glumness. Someone who may not know Aakir as well as I do will probably miss the sudden freezing of his posture. But I notice. Confusingly, I follow his line of vision, to know what has him distracted. Only, I find my eyes falling on my left hand, lying limply, the wrist of which is carefully, yet firmly, wrapped in Neal's hand.

Wonderful.

  24. Kissing Or Tricking

"Um," Aakir begins, facing difficulty in tearing his gaze away from mine and Neal's hand. His gaze and inept posture goes on for enough long duration to bring it to Neal's notice. Neal realizes the reason behind Aakir's muteness. As casually as he can, he loosens his hold on my wrist. A protest falls on my lips as I already feel the brimming sensation notch down a bit, but I bite my tongue to keep it at bay. Following his casual movement, Neal steals his hand away as nonchalantly as possible. He continues to casually raise his arms and fold them across his chest, his blank expressions suggesting that he is finding nothing amiss in the situation. Though, his neck which has started to flush doesn't go amiss by me. By the looks of it, it doesn't go amiss by Aakir either.

"What's happening at the mansion?" Neal asks Aakir, acting as casual as he can. I am in no doubt that he wants the attention to be diverted away from him, preferably to something of great importance at this moment.

"Nothing good." Aakir replies, finally tearing his suspicious eyes away from us. "The council is being an imperial bunch. They are keeping tabs on Mikhail uncle and they're not being subtle about it. They have also somehow learned that Nik uncle is returning and they have started to prepare for the onslaught."

And just like that, whatever is left of my good mood slips away from me. It's astonishing that for a few minutes I had completely forgotten about the issue looming on our heads. Considering I was putty in Neal's hands, literally, I am not going to blame myself on this one. I instead focus on the inevitable, unfortunate scenario that we are trapped in. Aakir looks glum, and his words are even glummer. I don't know what can be more alarming to me right at this moment.

Neal heavily sighs making us look at him, "Maybe we should consider only me going back."

"No." I and Aakir instantly reply, making Neal glare at us.

I turn towards Aakir, ignoring Neal, "Is father going to face a lot of problem? What about Mikhail? They are not ill-treating him, are they?" I ask.

Aakir hesitates, "Literally, no. The council hasgiven an ultimatum of ten days to Mikhail. They have ordered him to ensure that you and Nik uncle, and Neal, return back. Ten days, obviously for the journey, else they would have demanded your presence much earlier than even today. The council will probably not take any harsh action against Mikhail till then."

"All the more reason for me to go back." Neal says. "I don't think any issue will be solved till I don't return."

I glare at Neal. "Stop being a martyr."

Neal glares back while Aakir gives me a dry look.

Aakir turns to Neal, "Neal, no. Mikhail uncle is staying amidst all the tension.He knows how to handle the council. And Nik uncle will be there within eight days now. They are willingly facing all the tension, just so you two remain out of trouble." Aakir says, darting his eyes from Neal to I. "You both cannot go and jump in there."

"I don't see anything coming out of that decision." Neal rolls his eyes.

"Neither do I." I hesitate, my vacillating thoughts torn between the idea of my family stuck amongst those mongrels and the prospect of Neal being in their claws.

Neal heaves a sigh again, biting his inner cheek as he considers speaking, "You guys do remember how some of the council members treated your family that first day, right? I don't expect them to be kind to your father and grandfather." He gives me a meaningful stare.

With my mind completely torn, I curse by getting affected by Neal's words. I try to assure myself that my elders are far more knowledgeable than us; far more experienced, far wiser to have taken the decision to keep us out of the loop. They are acting pragmatically by keeping Neal out. To think with heart, I feel helpless to realize that the situation doesn't go in my favor either ways. One side my father balances while on the other Neal. I don't want to think of this as a choice.

Aakir spares me the need to reply to Neal by speaking first.

"That's precisely the reason why Uncle Nik wants you guys to stay away." Aakir says.

I close my eyes, feeling exasperated, rubbing my left hand on my face.My confused thoughts dominate. Our presence in the mansion will definitely divert the attention from father and Mikhail. But their sole attention will get aimed at Neal, something I am not comfortable about either. Neal isn't all preppy and flowery since his return from the Ninth Occultist; and I can bet that he will not be keen to be in the grasp of another Occultist. He may not have yet put into words regarding how disturbing the event has been for him but it's something that I can easily guess from the slight twitchy personality he has seemed to gain. I don't understand Neal's fervent intention of returning back because for sure he must have realized that going back makes him to be in a vulnerable spot. But not going back means our elders facing those Occultists instead of Neal.

"I am not comfortable with the idea of father being there." I voice my worry, hating how doubtful I sound.

"None of us are." Aakir says, exasperation clear in his voice at me having double thoughts. "But take comfort in the fact that he will not be alone. Mikhail uncle is already there and I'll be there. The council saw me too. And now it is sort of keeping an eye on both Uncle Mikhail and I. But I am able to come here, so be assured that they are not being complete pricks. They just want you guys back, so they can throw you in front of the occultists on the eleventh day from now. The Occultists will approach their Realm then. Nik and Mikhail uncle are staying in contact and formulating on how to handle the situation. I am sure they'll come up with something."

Aakir doesn't sound very hopeful, but I don't point that out.

"Do they know what to expect from the Occultists? And is every Occultist going to be there?" Neal asks, not looking happy at his request being dismissed.

Aakir hesitates, "Most probably all will be there. And the procedure may be similar to a normal grievance issue...but on a much larger scale."

The only thing revolving in my head is Jermaine's, sort of, execution by the Occultist. The whole scene doesn't set well with me.

"You mean..." Neal says, "like a court case?"

"Yes." Aakir nods, "But they'll be quick, almost spontaneous with their decisions. And oh," he rolls his eyes, "there wouldn't be any jury of course."

"Of course." Neal mutters, looking more unsettled than me.

Somehow, the description assures me that the decision to keep Neal away would be a wise one. If Neal goes, that will end the story. My father, howsoever I don't like the idea of him facing the occultist, can somehow manage to divert the situation by hook or crook.

Also, I'm just plain afraid for Neal. And more upset at the idea of me being devoid of his aura my whole life.

"But that is not something you both should be worrying about." Aakir says.

I hum sarcastically, at loss for words.

"I am serious." Aakir snaps, making me look at him. "Nik uncle will handle the situation somehow. I haven't come here for your whining. You both don't have to return to Krasnoyarsk, but you definitely have to leave Dudinka."

Neal and I frown at Aakir.

"I overheard some members of the council talking about this whole issue. I was in my astral form, so they obviously didn't realize they are being eavesdropped upon. I heard them discussing about some of the men dispatched to reach Dudinka. They were dispatched...one or two days after we departed from Krasnoyarsk, after they realized that you, I and Nik uncle are no longer in the headquarters. They were initially sent to get a hold of us," Aakir looks at me meaningfully, "but now they must be aiming at you two." He looks towards Neal, then back at me, "And by the talks of it, they are expected to reach Dudinka today, if they haven't reached already."

"How the hell do they even know that we are in Dudinka?" I exclaim.

Aakir shrugs, "Mikhail is not the only one in the council who seems to have high approaches. And I guess our whereabouts were pretty predictable. They know that it's obvious you will not leave Russia without Neal. And Neal's whereabouts could be easily deducted if the right mind is applied. The council is not a stupid bunch. Anyway, I digress. You guys need to leave the hospital. This is the sole medical facility in Dudinka and therefore, a very predictable place for them to search. "

Fantastic. I rub my face tiredly at this suddenly unwanted situation. Now we have to flee, literally like fugitives.

"How many men?" I ask.

At the same time Neal frowns, looking doubtful, "I don't know if he can move." He says, looking at my arm.

I frown at him in return, "My legs are not injured. I'll manage."

Neal gives me an exasperated look, "Your arm is broken and not in a cast. Does that weigh even a little on your sane mind?"

I sigh at Neal's ireful concern.

"I don't know how many men are on way." Aakir speaks before Neal and I can get into an argument. "I just overheard the council and I informedyour father. Uncle Nik in turn asked me to have you guys informed of it. As I said, this city has only one hospital and you're sitting in it. Also, Dudinka is not gifted with massive therian population. Your auras are going to stand out like a sore thumb amongst the humans. If I were amongst the council, I wouldn't overlook checking the hospital first, considering the death of an occultist must have come at the expense of an injury to either of you. So, you both need to be out of here by evening. Move southwards, but don't take the obvious route back. At least not this soon. And don't enter Krasnoyarsk-"

"Did you not hear?" Neal interrupts, "He cannot move his hand."

"I'll manage." I snap indignantly.

"He'll have to manage." Aakir says to Neal.

Neal looks highly peeved as he continues, "He cannot even sit straight without flinching in pain!"

"I didn't say that it wouldn't cause me pain." I say, a little ticked off that he is looking at Aakir, completely ignoring me. "That's precisely why I am using the word 'manage'."

"I don't see other option either." Aakir says to Neal. "Don't fret, he'll be fine." Of course Aakir is aware of my tolerating abilities. We grew up through our weekly spars, hence no wonder that he is more confident about my movement in such a state.

Neal looks like he is going to argue some more, but he simply shakes his head in exasperation, his lips pursed in distaste. Without sparing us a glance, he looks away, continuously clenching his teeth. We take it as his gesture of yielding. Neal blatantly shows his disapproval through his expressions. But he doesn't look our way, choosing to pointedly look in some other direction.

"So, as I was saying," Aakir continues, "Don't enter Krasnoyarsk. But better get moving from here by evening."

"Will those be looking for Lichinsky?" Neal asks Aakir, throwing one last halfhearted protest. Apparently, he is not the one to back down so easily. For a moment his question confuses me, but it doesn't take long for me to understand what he is asking. I speak before Aakir gets a chance.

"Even if they are looking for you, then also we are not going to rely on your aura and take chances." I tell him, angry that he would even suggest staying back only because his aura has the capability to repel the ones who seek it.

Neal pointedly shrugs, unaffected by my angry tone, "But it's a point. If the verbal theories about the vaticinator hold any credit, then they shouldn't be able to encounter us."

"If they will look for you." Aakir says, stressing on 'If', indicating that they can very well keep me in mind as target. Although, keeping only me in mind can turn out to be a great task. Especially at the subconscious level. "Josh is right anyways; we cannot take a chance on it." Aakir adds further.

Neal huffs quietly, but doesn't say anything.

"You can make use of David's vial as per the requisite need." Aakir suggests, looking at Neal.

Neal blinks, turning towards Aakir, "As if an aura less person beside a therian is not at all suspicious."

"It is less suspicious. Better than them sensing your most-noticeable aura by accident." Aakir replies.

Their conversation irks me and it takes me several moments to realize that the idea of Neal being without his aura is thoroughly displeasing me.

"I am going to go now." Aakir announces, "Take care both of you. I'll contact you guys and keep you updated."

Neal and I give noncommittal nods in farewell and soon Aakir is gone from our sight. Neal and I remain silent for the longest time. Neal is not looking at me and that makes me wonder if he is angry. Wouldn't be a surprise, but I am still curious. Neal is not the one to hold grudges for petty things. He is also not the one to take tension in such situations.

"I expect you to be least tensed, you know." I tell him. I use a lighthearted tone, hoping to alleviate our severely depressed state of mind. We have a few hours before we'll eventually start preparing for departure. I don't want to spend those few hours of peace with Neal looking as worried as he is now. Worrying is my job, not Neal's. His worry is making my worrisome thoughts get even distressing.

Neal looks up at me, his face surprisingly blank. Now that I focus, he doesn't seem worried...just thoughtful. I am not used to a too much thinking Neal either, so sue me.

"Aakir thinks we are gay." He says.

I look at him, agape. I stutter at the out of the blue observation. Out of everything we have discussed since Aakir's arrival, this is the thing that's occupying his mind? I am aware that Aakir's knowing glances towards our conjoined hands didn't escape Neal's notice. But now is not at all the time I expect Neal to express his observation.

I take in his blank expressions, as if he is awaiting my response. Unwantedly, my thoughts revert towards the topic. Aakir thinks we are gay. Aakir has already revealed his opinion to me in the matter of my partner. Neal has bluntly put that opinion of Aakir's in much cruder words. Only, Aakir had voiced his opinion only of me.

"Aakir thinks I am gay." I correct Neal, my tone disbelieving and quiet. I do not know what I am shocked at. Neal's severe reconnaissance ability or his absurd timing to raise even preposterous topics or merely surprised at having Aakir's thoughts thrown so crudely out of my mouth.

Neal's eyes narrow slightly, indicating his quick understanding that Aakir and I have shared words over the subject. But he simply, very subtly, rolls his eyes and diverts his attention to the nearby wall.

"I'll go and ask the nurse about when the doctor will come." Neal says, getting up.

"No." I blurt instantly.

Neal frowns, standing, giving me a quizzing look. "Doctor needs to check on you at least once before we get you discharged."

I can feel my whole face going red as I try to nod at Neal as nonchalantly as possible. My face feels like an inferno. My reflexive negative response for his departure from my room was in respect to the fact that I don't want to be devoid of his aura. Already the removal of touch is weighing me down and with the added heaviness of Aakir's judgment, I don't know if Neal will be willing to gift me with even a handshake. Besides, I feel that his previous endeavor to catch me off guard with his hand had been his intention to keep my fury at bay upon his conversation with the Occultist. All in all, my mind is convinced of negligible touches from Neal in the future and the thought has involuntarily made me crave his general aura more than usual, not wanting to be devoid of it for even a little time. But I cannot exactly give voice to my insecurities, especially not after our immediate conversation.

"I need to use the washroom." I mumble, hoping I don't look as embarrassed as I am feeling.

Neal's stance has become uncertain at my instant 'No', but he seems to be gaining his certainty back with regard to the requisite action. However, on my request to visit the washroom, Neal halts again. He gestures to a door within the room and I silently nod at him. Carefully, I remove the sheets from me with my good hand. Neal stands by my side, looking uncertain for a completely different reason now. I grunt quietly as I motion to sit straight so I can get up. Even the slight movement causes prickling pain to exude from my arm. Cradling my injured arm with my good hand, I try to get up. The pain exemplifies but I keep my complaints down my throat. Grimacing, I finally manage to stand on my feet. Neal stands right beside me, contemplating if I need support or not. My feet feel alright though, despite not used for two days, so he needn't worry about me falling or something.

"I am okay." I convince him through clenched teeth. My arm is not going to make my journey painless.

Neal nods, indicating that I move on. Once sure of the strength of my legs, I start walking, simultaneously making sure that my injured arm doesn't move much. The result is a slow walk. Neal, surprisingly, walks beside me, probably to provide aid if need arose. I think of telling him that I'll manage, but restrain. He will not back down, anyways. Once we reach the washroom door, Neal turns the knob of the door. For a moment I panic, thinking that he is going to accompany me.

"I am going alone." I blurt out.

Neal looks at me incredulously, "I know." He says in a duh tone.

I am blushing furiously, which must be understandable. But I face another ball in my court when I notice Neal's neck tinting pink again. He doesn't show anything on face and his ability to constrain himself from making his blushing obvious makes me hastily enter the washroom and lock the door. The hastiness makes me curse as it causes my already pained arm to burst into another episode. I wait for a few minutes, standing still, wishing the pain to fade into a dull ache. It's after those several minutes, I feel Neal's aura moving away, probably to seek the doctor. Once he is completely gone from my senses, only then do I motion to answer nature's call.

Neal and I mostly remain blithe with people insinuating things between us. In a way, we are almost casual about it, as if the opinion of other people does not matter. They think of us as a couple? They can think whatever the hell they want. Who cares? We know that there is nothing between us and that is all that should matter. But it doesn't escape my notice that any sort of potentially mushy conversation always makes one of us blush, sometimes both of us. If we are actually so nonchalant about the topic then why does the subject hold the power to make us flush with embarrassment? Not even embarrassment per se, just something that I cannot explain and I blame our therian bonding for that.

On top of everything, Aakir's word of insinuation is something that seems to be the last straw because everyone, even Neal, knows that nobody knows me better than Aakir. The situation has become so significant in my mind that I am assured that if a stranger stood outside the door instead of Neal, I will probably take help with the strings of my hospital pajamas because god knows it's highly infuriating to tie those with one hand while making sure to not even accidently move the other. But it is Neal's aura that reappears in the room behind the door of the washroom I am in. And I don't ask for his help. These thoughts are unexplainable to me, yet contain the power to turn me ten shades of red within a single minute.

When I reemerge from the washroom, Neal instantly informs me that the doctor is due visiting within the next hour. I decide to further freshen up, so I collect my toothbrush from the bag. On expressing my desire of a bath, Neal informs me that I was given a sponge bath while unconscious that morning itself. That explains why I am not feeling absolutely rotting, since two days is too long for me to go without a bath.

Neal further warns that I shouldn't stress too much, neither engage in actions that require utilizing my right arm. I nod at him and spend quality time inside the washroom, cleaning my face and mouth. Feeling slightly fresh, I settle back on the bed and we fall into silence. It is not an uncomfortable silence, just the one which seems to appear at the end of an unfinished conversation. Though I have no idea what is there to be said anymore.

When my doctor, a balding man with no sense of humor, comes along with his junior doctor, he instantly starts firing questions in my direction. Most of them are same as what the nurse had asked me. I humor him anyways. I complain of pain on movement of my arm. The doctor instructs his junior to get my arm in a firmer sling. The new one, black colored, is cushiony and has straps encircling my neck and torso. It keeps my arm intact with my chest and I am pleased to notice that only harsh, instant moves are causing me trouble.

I'll spare the details of the pain I had to undergo to get the sling changed.

The doctor further expresses surprise at my absolutely healthy state.There is only the external injury on my arm, a slightly tender nose (thankfully not broken) and a little bluish bruise on my cheek bone, courtesy- Jermaine's punch. The doctor deems it a miracle that my health is perfect despite being comatose for twodays, sadly for which he has no medical explanation. He assures me of my health again and then informs Neal, who is sitting here with the pretense of being my cousin, that I can be discharged tomorrow morning. I will have to return a week later, once my burn injuries are sufficiently healed, to get my arm in a cast. Neal is also informed that he will have to depart in the evening as the visiting hours for even family do not go beyond seven pm. Neal simply thanks the doctor.

Once we are alone, Neal and I get over the silent environment. We start formulating our departure, fixing six PM as the time. Neal is amenable, discussing our way out without any qualms. The doctor's word that I am absolutely healthy and in enough good position to get discharged has supposedly put Neal's mind to peace. Now he is not reluctant about me 'moving' and causing further distress to my body. The firmer sling on my arm contributes to his compliance.

Our discussion doesn't last long, seeing as how only our escape is certain.We are not sure what we are to do once we depart from the hospital. We won't be going back, of course. Therefore, our course of action will be decided only once we leave this place and explore our options.

We fall into silence again. Neal is not being talkative anyway, bringing my own mood down a notch. He is being excessively thoughtful today, something that I have realized that I don't really like as I am unsure of his train of thought. But ever since Aakir's arrival, Neal has been speaking less and thinking more. After Aakir left, he has completely gone into a reckoning phase, speaking only when necessary.

We are not completely silent, managing to exchange words on vague topics ranging from bland hospital food that I am forced to eat to banal topics like the weather. I do not know why I am feeling astonished to realize that we are somewhat acting inept. Such awkward stance is expected from me, but never from Neal. Eventually the distressing silence makes way towards even distressing thoughts concerning my father and grandfather. I end up imagining the various scenes in which the council must be pushing my family. I can only imagine Mikhail's severe distaste up to a point.

When evening rolls by, the lone human patient in the room is hurdled by a number of visitors. The nurse comes to check on us again, ordering the horde of visitors to step out of the room. She suggests getting fresh air in the gallery of this floor.The humans waste no time as they take their patient on the wheelchair towards the outside. I decline the offer when the nurse suggests the same to me. She does a general checkup and is gone.

Neal immediately picks up the bag that was thrust under my bed. Without words, he starts taking out my clothes from the backpack. I straighten up, knowing our time to depart has arrived. I uncertainly dangle my legs as I sit sideways on the bed. Though it's not much of dangling since my height is enough tall to make my feet touch the floor fully.

"It's not the time to daydream. Hurry up." Neal's voice attracts my attention. He is pulling the curtains full around my bed, to enclose the small tavern in privacy. I frown as he then stands beside the bed, expectantly looking at me and then at the clothes on the bed.

"I'll...I will change in the washroom." I say, getting up to stand. My voice comes out uncertain and that automatically makes me berate myself mentally.

Neal raises an eyebrow, almost challengingly, "Well...if you can change your clothes single handedly then by all means go ahead." With that, he unceremoniously settles on the bed sideways, dangling his legs. The action would have made me smirk if not for his defiance.

I falter, my eyes falling on my clothes. A t-shirt, jeans and a jacket. The hospital shirt that I am wearing is a button down, so I won't face a problem in getting that off. Same goes for the pajamas. But wearing a t-shirt and jeans single handedly? Not to mention by being careful to not move my injured arm much.

Shit.

"Never pegged you for the shy type. Thought you'd be used to with changing clothes with guys around, considering you're on the soccer team in school. What's getting your boxers in a bunch?"

Neal's tone is so antagonizing, so challenging, that I am in no doubt that he knows precisely why I am hesitating. But if Neal can keep his blushing at bay then so can I. It's a distant dream, but hey, one can try, right? So, with my face probably going pink, I keep a casual façade and roll my eyes at Neal. I start unbuttoning the hospital shirt, keeping my gaze fixed on my clothes on the bed. I make sure that my facial features are completely schooled. I decide to not focus on the heat on my face.

When I have to tug the shirt's sleeve down my injured arm, Neal sighs and gets up. In silence, he motions for me to turn around. I comply and he starts unfastening the hooks of the straps of my sling. The ghosts of his fingers touch only fleetingly the portions of my naked skin but that is enough to make goosebumps rise on my skin. Try as I may, it is getting increasingly difficult to keep down the blush which is threateningly overpowering me. But I still keep calm, seeing as how Neal hardly seems affected.

He mechanically turns me around and starts to remove the shirt through my injured arm with great concentration. In the meanwhile, I bask in the slight touches, refraining from smiling like an idiot when the same excitable feeling returns which his touch grants me. Once the shirt is completely detached from my body, Neal clumsily folds it and keeps it on the bed. He snatches my t-shirt and thrusts it towards my direction. Emotionlessly, he waits as I grasp the t-shirt from his hand.

For no reason understandable, I feel exceptionally self-conscious while standing there half naked with my partner. But that is again something that I cannot comprehend. Feeling the rush because of Neal's touches is something that sensing his aura largely explains. But getting flustered when I am simply standing without a shirt in Neal's vicinity is not explained. Especially when the person in question is actually looking bored of out of his mind, as he waits for me to pull the t-shirt on my frame. How is Neal managing to be so casual? He has been equally red faced as me through our uncomfortable conversation through the day. I scowl at the various gay implications revolving in my head and eventually concentrate on the task at hand.

When I fail, miserably so, at getting the t-shirt past my neck, an exasperated Neal steps up and starts helping me.I feel like a child as Neal makes my injured arm get through the t-shirt first and then easily pulls it down the rest of my body.

The next part is no doubt much more embarrassing as I fiddle with the strings of the hospital pajama that I have on. Neal is stoic, as he collects my denims and waits patiently for me get over my 'shyness'. I hastily pull the strings off and let my pajamas fall, feeling glad that I am wearing boxers instead of briefs. Neal, uninterested, hands me my denims which I pull up myself. Only when I have to close the button do I face problem with one hand. Neal notices my vain efforts and again sighs. Nonchalantly, he brings his hands to the buttons of my denims and close them, not looking fazed for a single moment. I, on the other hand explode in millions colors ranging between red and pink. Ignoring my abashed state, Neal turns me around again and starts fastening the clasps of the straps of my sling.

Once done with the whole procedure, I take a deep breath in. I don't know if it's due to relief to be done with the awkward situation or disappointed that Neal's hands are now far away, depriving me of whatever small amount of pleasantness I was receiving. Even at the expense of my embarrassment, Neal's aura holds a higher ranking.

With my back pack finally packed, we motion to move outside. I am carrying the bag and my jacket single handedly as we move out. Absentmindedly, Neal holds the bag's strap as well and starts tugging it towards himself. I don't let go of the bag though, even though it turns into a little game of tug of war as we enter the corridor. Knowing well that he cannot get rid of my hold, Neal turns to give me a boring look.

"Give me the bag." He says plainly.

I snort, "I can carry it." Call it the rage to prove a point, but I really want to prove to Neal that I am not as 'weak' as he has been suggesting since afternoon, consistently referring to my inability to move my injured arm without biting my lip.

Neal rolls his eyes, "I didn't say you cannot. I just asked you to hand it over."

"And I said I can carry it. Just because my one arm is wounded, doesn't mean I am suddenly an incapable girl."

"Oh, yeah? Says the guy who blushes exactly like that incapable girl."

As if to prove Neal's point, my face explodes into another blush at his comment. Jeez, he obviously wasn't bored or uninterested during our rendezvous. Definitely not if he kept an enough keen eye to notice where I am being the most uncomfortable.

"Sue me." I snap, "It's not every day a guy dresses me up."

"Hold your horses, Lichinsky. By the looks of how compliant you were being, you didn't exactly dislike it."

If possible, my face gets even redder at the implication. That's the downfall of revealing to a guy what effect his skin can bring when placed on my naked one. And this is one lesson I am learning. From now on, doesn't matter how bored Neal looks. I should always assume that he is being as perspicacious as he is always capable of.

"As you're enjoying using the information I reveal against me?" I say, as we enter one of the elevators. "Thanks for warning about what I shouldn't babble from next time." I let go of the bag after my bitter comment.

"It concerns me, so I am invariably entitled to know."

"Not if it's just a topic for you to use against me." I snap, feeling pissed.

"Don't be snappy with me. It's not my fault."

"And it's high time you realize that it's not mine either."

We fall into a tense silence. Embarrassingly, I notice that few of the other people inside the elevator have started to eye Neal and I. Neal seems unaffected.

We get off the elevator when we reach the ground floor. As one, we move towards the reception, our feud almost, almost forgotten. Our feuds, as explosive as they may be, are never long lasting. That's something for which I always feel glad.

Neal informs the lady sitting on the reception desk about our plans to move out right now. She hesitates in the beginning as she checks on the patient details. But as she notices that I am anyway going to be discharged in the morning, she starts filing our checks. Neal starts digging cash, which father has left in Neal's responsibility, from the bag. When I murmur about so much cash, Neal informs me that father doesn't want us to use credit or debit cards. Hence he left a hefty amount behind in Neal's hands.

"Josh Lichinsky?" the reception lady says, addressing me, "You were in room 709?"

"Uh." I say, not really aware what room number I was in.

"Yes." Neal answers for me.

"Oh, you just had visitors. I sent them up to your room just moments before."

My heart skips a beat. Visitors? I am pretty sure father and Mikhail are extremely busy to visit me, not to mention it will take them quite a number of days to be in Dudinka now. Aakir doesn't exactly require to pass the reception in order to greet me. The rest of my family is out of Krasnoyarsk, hell out of Russia for all I know. I do not like the sound of getting 'visitors'.

Neal chuckles nervously, "Did they give a name?"

The lady shakes her head, frowning at Neal, "I didn't ask for it. They wanted to see Josh Lichinsky and I sent one of them to your room."

"One of them?" I ask.

"They didn't address themselves as relatives, so I could only let one of them meet you. The rest must be in the waiting room outside." She gestures towards the opening doors at the end of the corridor, the top of which bears the board 'waiting room' written in both English and Russian.

"Uh..." Neal says, as much at loss as me, "They were all men?"

The lady frowns again at Neal's questioning, but answers nonetheless, "Yes."

"How many?"

"Four-five, maybe?"

"Okay, thanks." Neal says and proceeds to give cash for the bill. The lady hesitates again, as if expecting us to turn around and greet our 'visitors'. But looking at the alarming expressions on Neal's face, she accepts the payment. Her processing seems to go on a freakishly slow pace, or my nerves are probably getting to me. Once done, Neal collects the receipt and we turn around. Instead of following the corridor, towards the end gates that succeed the waiting room, we turn the opposite way, seemingly going further inside the hospital.

I didn't expect us to land in such a situation, with a therian on the upper floors and more therians towards the exit. I try to bring a little optimism. Maybe it's not the therians from our Realm. But my optimism only runs as long as realism compliments it. So I snuck the thought and let the panic overtake me.

Out of everything, it's Neal I am worried about. I just got him back and I sure as hell not planning to let him be slipped by again. To prevent from fully hyperventilating, I unconsciously grasp Neal's upper arm. Neal gets startled by my sudden hold, but his steps don't falter as I keep walking towards the end of the corridor. Only when we reach a secluded sub hallway do I slow down. Reluctantly, I let go of Neal's arm as we come to a stoppage. Whatever calmness I was harboring vanishes as soon as I let go.

"Okay, what the fuck do we do now?" I say, turning to stand face to face with Neal.

Neal runs a hand down his face, looking pretty shaken up himself. "I don't think there's any other exit." He mutters.

"We cannot risk any of them coming near enough to sense our auras." I blurt in a panicky tone.

"Of course..." Neal mumbles. "Looking for you in the hospital turned out to be a walk in the park for them."

I halt at his observation. "Exactly," I murmur, equally quiet, "That means they are aware that they cannot find you."

Neal frowns at my sudden change in topic.

"They are looking for me." I elaborate.

Understanding dawns, "Because they will be repelled away if they start looking for me." Neal says, looking slightly annoyed with the revelation. "But, it's impossible to not have me in mind while looking for you."

I hesitate, "Yeah, I suppose. At least at the subconscious level they cannot get rid of thoughts about you...maybe that's why we are on the ground floor and the therian from the councilis on the upper floors. We didn't even encounter him in the elevator. He must have taken the other elevator."

"You're right. My aura must be repelling them. Somewhat."

"Alright, we're not taking chances on that thought." I speak with a tone of finality, "We're going to split up."

Neal looks at me like I am crazy. "We shouldn't-"

"We should." I interrupt. "They are looking for me. They will encounter you if you stay beside me. Your aura may be repelling them, but we're not certain about that and I won't take a chance on it. Both of us staying in the hospital will inevitably increase their chances of finding us."

Neal considers that for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. Reluctantly, he nods, "Okay, we'll split." He puts the bag down on the floor, next to the wall we are standing at and starts fumbling with his pocket. After a moment, his hand reemerges with David's vial in his hand.

"Great." I don't know if that comes out of my mouth sarcastically or in relief. At one hand, I am feeling extremely annoyed that Neal's aura will get suppressed. On the other hand, I feel reprieved that the liquid will help Neal pass through the exit undetected. I keep my annoyance at bay, knowing too well that getting Neal out of here is priority. And if that comes at the expense of me being deprived of his aura, so be it. If I have to choose between Neal without aura and Neal with unwanted people, then I will choose the former.

"I had forgotten about this." I tell Neal, eyeing the vial in his hand."But good, you won't have to wait to pass through the waiting room; undetected by the therians waiting there. Without your aura, their gaze will not fall on you. Just keep a low profile-"

"You're the one who is drinking this." He interrupts.

I falter, "W-wha, No." I say, briefly closing my eyes in irritation.

"Yes." Neal says, his brows furrowing, his eyes narrowing. That's his signature expression that indicates that he is preparing for a verbal battle in his head.

"No." I say in a firmer tone.

Neal glares at my antagonistic tone. "They are looking for you. And I am sure if they ask the receptionist again, she'll tell them gladly that we haven't moved towards the exit as of now. With both of us separated and them looking for you, the chances are too high of them finding you. My aura can repel them. But your aura wont and I don't think there are any other therians in this hospital to cause them confusion."

I hesitate in answering. Of course every aura that I have come across till now has been human. But thatcertainly doesn't mean that my aura will stand out more than Neal's aura.

"Yes, they are not looking for you." I say, "So, their chances of accidently coming across you are far more than I'd like. Don't argue on this."

Neal is shaking head before I am even finished, "You're the one who is arguing. As we have just discussed, they obviously have me in mind at a subliminal level. I am confident my aura will repel them. I'll just stay put in the washroom of some corridor-"

"No. I am not taking chances."

"You have no hoodoo mechanics to make people divert away from you. Is that so tough to get?"

"I said I am not taking chances."

"Just drink this bloody thing and move out."

"I am not going anywhere. Seriously Neal, you're wasting your breath here."

"Stop being annoying." Neal snaps, his tone turning harsher.

"No, you stop being stubborn." I snap, taking a step towards him. So close, Neal has to tilt his head slightly to meet my eye. Distractedly I notice that he is not as short as I always assume him to be.He is reaching almost to my nose level."Listen to me for once, would you?" I glare.

"No, you listen to me." He snaps, his face turning pink due to anger, "Drink this and move out. Go to the nearest newspaper shop and pick up yellow pages. Look for eighth hotel in the index. I'll meet you there. Those guys are not going to stay in this hospital forever."

Through my vexed state, I stutter at his instructions, "Why eighth?" I manage to retort.

Neal shrugs, "Choose seventh then. Our cellphones are dead. We need a common place to meet. Just get out of here."

"Neal, it'll get morning and you won't be able to make me drink that. Let's save time. You drink it. Take my jacket. It'll be big on you and will help with inconspicuousness." I thrust mine towards him. Neal doesn't bat an eye, almost boringly glaring at me, "Look for the eight hotel and I'll be there soon."

"Fuck you."

I sigh, rubbing my temple with the forefinger of my left hand. "Neal-"

"They will not find me." Neal stresses, "You need to get out. You're the one who is wasting time."

"Neal, no offence to you, but you cannot possibly fight against those guys in case they encounter you."

"And no offence to you, but stop fighting my fights."

My eyebrows crawl for my hairline at that. "Your fight?" I ask incredulously.

Neal purses his lips, his eyes darting away from our glaring match, "Just go, Josh. If it's my fate to be caught, then I'll handle it. Isn't that what you like? Things to proceed as they were meant to be?" he asks rhetorically. "God, I wish I had changed this event." He mutters.

I stutter at his sudden outburst, "Aakir isn't exactly free to get you projected." I manage to splutter, even now annoyed at him expressing his desire to change future.

"I know that." Neal snaps angrily. "Just-"

"You do realize that I'd prefer anything over you being in the hands of those men, right?" I interrupt him. "So, before whatever you're thinking of this being 'your' fight, focus on the fact that I have my own personal interests." I snap.

"That your dad and granddad don't share." he blurts. He shakes his head, as if he wasn't intending to say that, "Just drink this and move out, Josh. I don't-"

"Are you feeling guilty that my father and Mikhail are going to be stuck in that mansion?" I interrupt him yet again, my expressions flickering between vexation, confusion and incredulity.

"No." Neal says exasperatedly, "I mean, yes, but no-"

I cannot believe this. His lack of verbal participation since Aakir's visit was attributed to the sudden tension between us by me. I didn't even pause to consider that Neal might be disturbed because of a totally different thing. Neal is not a fool. Of course he sees that it's because of him that my father will probably face the wrath of the council and will probably face god knows what in front of the Occultists. The idea doesn't settle well with me but I never thought that Neal would be guilt ridden over the subject.

Killing the Occultist is bringing way more burden than we all would like. Neal is not oblivious to the fact that this all could have been avoided if only he hadn't killed the witch. But even with the unfortunate cloud looming above us, I do not blame Neal. I am assured that my father feels the same. If we didn't find Neal enough worthy, we wouldn't be putting any effort. So, there is no need for him to feel guilty.

"Everyone considers you a part of the family, Neal. Even my father, hell even Mikhail. Don't think this as a favor. We are family and we stick with each other to the end." I tell him, feeling a sudden heaviness in my gut.

Neal completely schools his face, not meeting my eye. This conversation is taking an unwanted down road.

"Neal-"

"I never had a family, Josh." Neal says, looking up to meet my eyes, "I don't know what that entitles. What I know is that I don't want to cause all of you any more trouble than necessary. I should stand where I can-"

"It's not 'trouble' for us." I say, aggravated. "It's what we want to do of our own volition. Stop putting words in my mouth."

Neal exasperatedly sighs, as if he is fed up of arguing. "I will not drink this." He says in a final tone, thrusting the vial towards me.

I give him an exasperated look. Neal is not moved.

"Please, Josh." He adds.

I never thought I'd see the day when Neal will be pleading. The single word expresses so much that I find my angry stance crumbling at once. I have never heard his tone be this helpless or downright desperate. He really, really doesn't want me to stay back and risk encountering these men. Not when those men are looking for Neal in the first place. Is it really weighing him down so much that we all are incessantly fighting for him?He looks dejected, that because of something that he is, all of us are being dragged into a shithole. But again, in my opinion, his guilt holds no ground. Neal didn't ask for this life of his. He didn't ask to be the vaticinator.

His expressionless face, his jaw set stubbornly, doesn't mask the vast amount of emotions dwindling in his brown eyes. I can already see that my words will bring no effect on his mindset. He doesn't want me to get entangled in a conflict because of him. And he is going to make sure that that remains so. Honestly, seeing him so vulnerable, my own contradictions have died in my throat. I cannot possibly fight with Neal when he is looking like this. Definitely not when he is pleading. I don't want to be the cause of another frown on his face. I don't mind his wrath but I definitely mind this vulnerable side of his.

But more than anything else, I do not want Neal to be caught by anyone. I don't want those men to catch drift of Neal and overpower him. It doesn't matter how unlikely Neal says that situation will be. I have faced his absence once and I sure as hell cannot face that again. I don't want to spend a single day more worrying if I'll see Neal again or not, if I'll sense his aura again or not. And it's not just about me. Neal doesn't deserve this. He didn't ask for such hassles. All he wants, just like me, is to be far away from these situations. And I'll be pissed if Neal doesn't be as far from such infortune as he deserves to be.

But looking at his stoic, yet excessively expressive stance, I just cannot make myself utter a single more word against his judgment. I don't want him to keep feeling that we are doing him a favor. Our involvement is only making him feel as if he is in our debt. But an optimistic part of my brain explains that Neal simply doesn't want any of us to face any more harm. Definitely not because of him.

His resolution crumbles one of mine. I sigh, my mind racing with thoughts of whether to grant Neal his wish or not. Seeing Neal's stubborn face, he will not drink the liquid even if I plan to argue further. Hell, he will not sway even if I beg him. For a moment I consider just shoving the liquid down his throat. But with only one of my hands working and Neal being a good fighter, I'll simply end up spilling the contents. Not to mention the amount of time we'll waste in the verbal brawl afterwards.

Though I prefer an angry Neal to a pleading and vulnerable Neal, we are still running out of time for an extended argument. I wish I had some telekinetic power to just make Neal freeze up. Without him able to protest back, I'll just make him drink the liquid. I don't mind fighting afterwards, provided he loses his aura. I continue with my mental debate, as Neal awaits my decision.

I quietly sigh.

Wordlessly, I grab the vial from him.Neal sighs quietly too, reprieved at my silent compliance to follow his judgment. I intentionally brush my fingers against his so to absorb a little bit of the heightened goodness. Neal takes my jacket from me, seeing as how only one arm of mine is working. I fiddle with the vial in my hand for a moment as Neal patiently waits in front of me. My heart beat increases perpetually, my mind taking a new direction of thoughts.

With a little pressure, I crack the tip of the vial, all the while working hard to keep my face absolutely blank. I look up at Neal as he silently urges me to drown down the contents. I sigh again, this time loudlyand tilt my head back, bringing the vial to my lips. I take in the liquid inside my mouth, feeling it fill my buccal cavity. I puff my cheeks, letting the tasteless liquid remain inside my mouth. I look at Neal, making sure my face is stoic. The largely revolving thought in my mind makes my face heat up slightly. But I fight hard to keep the blush at bay, focusing on what I am about to do next.

"Good." Neal murmurs, seeming pacified with the intake of the liquid by me. "Now get to the eighth hotel. I'll remain in the washroom of some less crowded corridor. I'll leave after an hour-"

I only half listen to his rambling, the bland liquid swirling in my mouth. Abruptly, I take a long step towards him. Neal gets startled by the movement and steps back to decrease our sudden proximity. But I take another step, making him bang his back against the wall behind. I bring my left hand to the back of his neck as I hear his incoherent stuttering. His eyes widening as big as saucers is the last thing I see before I let my lips descend on his.

The pleasant feeling explodes in my chest at the touch of my partner, my heart beat increasing even more. I let myself bask in the pleasure, forgetting for that brief moment that Neal is a guy.

Neal is so shocked by the sudden action that his body completely freezes on the spot. So, so shocked, even when I tighten my grip on his neck so he doesn't get the chance to move his head away. So very much shocked that he remains paralyzed even when I pry his lips open with mine. Only and only when I let the liquid in my mouth flow into his mouth does he realize my intention. And that is enough to snap him out his shocked state.

But the task is almost done. His frozen astonishment is exactly what I was counting on and Neal didn't disappoint me. The last of the liquid is almost past his lips as he gets over his immobilized state.

"Mmphf!" Neal protests against my mouth, trying to force back the liquid. I put more force into the 'kiss', tightening my hold on his neck. He tries to push me away, even in the dazed state being careful enough to put force only against my left side. I succeed in pushing most of the liquid into his mouth and then I 'deepen' the 'kiss'. So much so, that Neal has no option but to swallow the contents if he wants to breathe in the near future. His protests decrease a notch and I sense the motion of him swallowing the liquid. I let the snog continue for a few more moments, just to be sure.

"Oh!"

The voice startles me, making me instantly detach my lips from Neal. Neal wastes no time and pushes forcefully against my chest.That forces me to take a few steps back.

"Bastard!" he rasps out, an unbelievable expression on his face as he wipes his mouth with his right hand.

"I am sorry." The nurse, who has interrupted us, says in Russian. I had sensed her aura beforehand but I didn't expect her to enter this sub corridor. Neal turns towards her as if first time taking notice of her presence. He flushes deep red, almost as much as the young nurse. "I'll-I'll go." The nurse says hastily and passes by us, to the other side of the corridor. The poor girl must be scarred for life.

I sigh, turning back to Neal who is still very, very much red. I don't know if that's because of embarrassment or anger. Or simply because he is short of breath.

"Alright, I-" I start.

Neal doesn't want to hear it, because immediately his fisted hand comes flying towards my face. With the adrenaline pumping so hard inside me, my reflexes are bound to be at their best. But I do not dodge Neal's punch. He anyways should take out his frustration. It still doesn't prepare me for the exploding pain that instigates in my jaw at the contact. Thankfully, he hit the other side of where Jermaine had hit me. But that doesn't stop me from stumbling backwards. That's how strong his punch is.

I grimace in pain and rub my jaw with my good hand, "Jeez, for a human you pack quite a punch." I mutter.

"What the hell, Lichinsky?!" he yells, not at all trying to be subtle. The corridor is empty, but that doesn't mean he should start screeching.

"Your aura will disappear within ten minutes." I tell him, acting as the calm one. My heart is still beating too fast and I am in no doubt that my face must be as red as Neal. But Neal's sort of embarrassment gives me the upper hand. So, I continue in the calm tone, "You leave the hospital then, get to the eighth hotel on yellow pages. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Neal glares at me. If looks could kill, this would be it for me. But surprisingly, he has no comeback this time. He averts his eyes, glaring at the linoleum floor now. He bends and picks up the bag and my jacket. He probably dropped my jacket when I...assaulted him.He angrily throws the jacket towards me. He doesn't look at me. For no reason whatsoever, I feel absolutely smug at his flustered state. It's not every day I get to see Neal speechless.

Neal fumbles with the bag for a moment. He takes out a few cash bills and angrily thrusts them into my hands. Glaring at nothing in particular, Neal hoists the bag on his back and leans on the wall sideways, refusing to meet my eye.

Well, the silent treatment it is.

I ponder over what exactly it is that Neal is angry at. He is angry because I kissed him? Or just angry that a 'guy' kissed him? Or perhaps, he is infuriated because I made him swallow the liquid, making him go to a safe zone in my stead. Knowing Neal, he is probably most angry at the latter. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't be vexed at the 'kiss' part. Or, actually, he is just flustered over that. In any case, I have no intention to ask him about his thoughts. I am not on a suicide mission. Besides, I don't think I will be able to curb my flustering if I raise the topic. Best way is to let this moment pass by for now.

I make myself focus on our surroundings instead. I am to be highly alert in regard to any aura coming in my vicinity. Neal and I stand in the corridor, with me stealing glances at him every other second, but Neal's jaw is set as he glares at nothingness. The silence is awkward. And it gets depressing for me in the next moment as Neal's aura starts disappearing from my senses. I sigh in disappointment when his aura completely vanishes.

"Your aura's gone." I tell him quietly.

Neal doesn't respond to me; he doesn't even look at me. He simply straightens up and walks away.

Just like that.

Aw, hell.

I look down at the jacket in my hands that Neal didn't take despite my suggestion. I swing it back and forth, annoyed at the extra weight in my hands.

Things can get worse, an even annoying part of my brain suggests. I scowl, finally settling to wallow in my unfortunate state of being without my partner's aura.

  25. Accidental But Severely Detrimental

Holy shit, I kissed a guy.

It wasn't actually a 'kiss' per se, but it is still something hard to digest. Now that I am left alone with my thoughts, I find myself expressing diluvian amounts of shock at my actions. I am standing in the same corridor, leaning against the same wall I had Neal pinned a few minutes before. The sane, logical part of my brain justifies my act. Neal wouldn't have drunk the repellant even if I licked his feet. We were running out of time as it is. And considering that for a human Neal is not exactly weak, I am sure I would have received some sort of physical retaliation from Neal if I were to force the liquid down his throat with my hands. I may have empowered him eventually in that case, but with the risk of spilling the contents during the hassle. I have been informed that the vial can contain only a fixed quantity which is in compliance with what is requisite to bring out the suppressing effects in us.Therefore it was imperative that I don't waste a substantial amount of it.

Spontaneously, 'kissing' was the only thing that entered my mind. I honestly couldn't come up with anything else. I just needed something that would give Neal enough pause, an element of surprise, so he doesn't get the chance to retaliate. And of course I got that with the kiss.

Neal was dead frozen.

Until he realized my intentions, of course. But the pause was enough for me.

I still cannot believe I kissed a guy.

But as I just reckon, it wasn't exactly a 'kiss'.

God, I feel like a broken record. I lean away from the wall, mildly aware that my anxiety is rocketing up. Not only because I am stuck in the hospital with therians for whom I am the bad guy, but also because of the absence of Neal's aura. It's making me fidgety. I only hope that Neal has made it past the waiting room safely. Though it annoys me to realize that I will not get to sense his aura for almost twenty four hours. But I will worry about it when I meet up with him again; something that I will prefer to happen quickly.

I am mildly aware of the dull throbbing ache in my right arm. It's not overtly bothering; but acting as an unwanted tic in the back of my mind. I haven't sensed any therian as of now and it has already been about ten-fifteen minutes since Neal escaped. I don't know how thoroughly the therians are checking on us. Have they already left once they realized that we are no longer in the room? Or did they snoop about and are currently busy inquiring random people about us?

The corridor I am at is on the far back side of the hospital. There are no patient rooms here, only room meant for domestic purposes. Cleaning and the sort...or that's what I am guessing as I notice a human pass through, with a broom in hand. The nurse that had interrupted mine and Neal's...'moment' passed through the corridor once more. She had turned beet red at my sight, making me feel embarrassed in return as she scurried off.

Another ten minutes or so pass as I tap my feet impatiently, leaning my back against the wall. I am almost convinced that the therians have left. A minuscule part of me worries about Neal. Has he made past the therians safely? I will not lie. To not have sensed any therian as of now can also mean that they caught Neal. After all, most of the therians in our realm are aware of how Neal looks like, even if he is not radiating his aura. The tapping of my feet increases, my hands fidgeting incessantly as my anxiety shoots up again. I scowl mentally, absolutely annoyed at how deplorably antsy I am without Neal's aura around.

My tapping instantly freezes when I sense a therian in the turning corridor. A part of me sighs in relief, assured that they mustn't have caught Neal if they are still lurking around. But the relief is ephemeral. It's obvious that if I can sense the therian's aura then definitely he can sense mine. I take tiny steps away from the turn as the speed of the therian increases in the other corridor. I adjust my jacket in my only working arm, my body getting into flight mode as I keep taking tiny steps back.

When the therian emerges in the sub corridor that I am in, both of us instantly freeze. It's Julian. One of the middle aged council members; the one who had caught Jennifer after she handed over Neal to the Occultist. He sighs in relief at my sight, as if he is extremely reprieved to see me. In a way, he must be. It's not a walk in the park to look for someone in a city. That to after a bland cruise journey of ten days. My wounded state that caused my hospitalization just made it slightly easier for them.

"Josh," he greets me, nodding, as if he is encountering an old friend and not any fugitive. His eyes flicker towards my injured arm, "I am glad I found you." He continues in a mildly friendly tone, "You need to be in the headquarters, Josh. The Occultists require your presence when they turn up. And of your partner too. Where is Neal?"

I simply take a step back, refusing to engage in conversation. Julian notices my defensive stance, his eyes immediately hardening.

"I am not here to harm you, Josh.But it's imperative that you accompany me."

"Why? So you can keep us as prisoners there, just like you're keeping Mikhail? And will probably keep my father when he reaches the headquarters?" I retort.

"Nikolai is returning?" he asks, looking shocked.

Only for a second I hesitate, wondering if it's a good thing to reveal this or not. But then, father will anyways reach the mansion in a few days. What's the point of hiding? It's not like they can board the ship that has already departed with my father in it. Besides, from what Aakir said they already have a hunch about my father's arrival.

"Yes. Yes, dad is on his way back." I respond.

"And you did not return with him?" Julian says in an astonishing tone. "You should come back-"

"I am not going anywhere. Just cut with saying that time again."

Julian looks annoyed for a moment, "Are you intending to make your father face the trial in your stead?"

"It's none of your business what we decide."

Julian's face blanks out at that. In the next second a serious tic forms in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. "So, like father like son, huh? You'll leave your father to face the consequences alone, just like your father did with Mikhail."

I feel such hot rage at the accusation, which is directed not only towards myself but towards father as well. Who the hell does he think he is? Mindless drone with an equally mindless opinion.

"Watch your tongue." I snarl. "Better shut the fuck up when you don't even know half of the things about my family!"

To say that Julian is shocked at my rude tone would be an understatement. His eyes widen at my ill-mannered reply.

"Don't act childish." He snaps. He sighs suddenly and starts in a placating tone, "I know that you must be much tensed. But also know that you have committed a heinous crime. With the way your father is keeping you and Neal out of the loop, I am assured one of you have done the deed of killing our Occultist." Julian continues on, sounding seriously upset at the news, "You cannot just expect everyone to let you pass by without qualms, can you? Be a man and face a trial for what you have done."

I almost scoff at the way he is portraying the situation. Neal kills an occultist and that is a crime. The Occultist tortures Neal and that is the Occultist being her usual omnipotent being. But I refrain from entering this particular quarrel. I have no intention of putting forth my opinions in front of someone who is already biased.

"You're in for a roll if you think that I'll accompany you just like that." I reply.

Julian's tic returns, his jaw tightening to the point where I can see a vein throbbing in his temple. He glares at me and starts taking something out of his pocket, while muttering 'teenagers' under his breath. I roll my eyes. I freeze when I see him taking out his cell phone.

"You're in for a roll too if you think you can escape five therians with a sprained arm." He replies while dialing a number.

I don't correct him that my arm is broken, not sprained. I just tense up as Julian dials the number. I quickly look behind me. The corridor is a dead end, save for some rooms. I look back and immediately curse as Julian puts his phone to his ear. He is obviously calling the other therians. I panic, as I take long strides towards him. Julian startles at my sudden movement, taking minute steps backwards. He gives me a warning glare and opens his mouth to say something.But before he can get a word out he collides with someone at his back.

I immediately jolt to a stop at Aakir's sight. A startled gasp is all Julian manages, as Aakir grasps his phone and crushes it in his palm.

"Y-you-" Julian stutters, swinging his arm backwards to hit Aakir.

I drop my jacket immediately, my feet moving on their own accord as I intertwine my left arm about Julian's elbow. Aakir takes a step back to avoid the blow. I push with my left side, making Julian stumble into the wall behind. I restrain him with my hand against his chest. He motions to sock me, but Aakir grabs his other hand. With one side of Julian's already restricted, I twist his other arm behind him, pulling him forward and kneading him in the back with my knee. Julian grunts.

"B-bastards-Ahhh!"

The painful scream shocks me for a long moment. I watch in horror, as Aakir twists Julian's ankle in his hand. The crunching sound is so sickening that I feel a sudden urge to hurl.

"Aakir!" I snap at him. It's completely unexpected, not to mention revolting, and especially not to mention absolutely unethical to hurt someone like that, even if it's a foe.

"You don't want his leg to be working. Trust me." Aakir says, ignoring the painful howls from Julian. "He is in a hospital anyway. Come now, we can't waste time."

I sputter for a moment, cursing. Then I get up and grab my jacket form the floor, sprinting after Aakir. But we're late to get out of sight. A nurse stumbles upon us, watching our adrenaline flushed faces with a screaming victim a few feet behind us. She gasps, the tray in her hands trembling as she realizes that we are the culprits. Aakir doesn't even spare her a glance and starts running down the corridor length. I look back once at a painfully howling Julian, my heart constricting with guilt and empathy. After all, I know what a bone being broken feels like. The escalating throbbing ache in my right arm is a proof.

I turn around and run after Aakir. We stumble into people, some gasping, others cursing at us. I have the decency to give apologetic looks but Aakir continues to sprint. That's understandable, considering that I can already hear a commotion from the end where we left Julian. Obviously there is no doubt that that nurse must be spewing to anyone in sight that we have just caused another bed in their hospital to be occupied.

We pass the reception, people automatically getting out of way as they see us crazily running around. When we are near enough the waiting room, I sense four therian auras from the inside. I mentally curse as Aakir continues to sprint in the direction. Aakir doesn't pause when we enter, not even to spare a glance at the therians. I follow suit, only ephemerally looking towards the therians. Four men, part of the guard of the mansion from what I remember. They see us running towards the exit, their mouths agape. But their shock ends quickly as they launch into action. I watch in horror as they start running towards us, jumping over seats that are there in the waiting room.

Alarmed at the sudden movements, chaos ensues. Women screech when one of the therians collides with them in haste to reach to us, somebody falls when they are pushed out of the way, more alarmed voices, somebody shouting for the guards and we are halfway through when a therian grabs holds of a mindless running Aakir. As if in a frenzy, Aakir immediately swings his fluxed fist, causing the claws of whatever animal to make the therian yelp in pain. I am so thankful that people cannot see Aakir's animal hand, thanks to the illusionary image for the ignorant humans.

My gratitude dwindles downwards when two therians corner me. I jerk to a stop, my momentum making me jolt forwards. I use my inertia in my favor and jam my left elbow in one of the therian's ribs. My distraction gives an upper hand to the other therian who catches me off guard by holding my neck around his elbow, pressuring my head into a headlock. My jacket falls from my hand. I curse, bending down and making the therian flip over, falling on his back. More grunts, more horrified yelps and even more screaming ensues. The force of making the therian fall takes a toll on my right arm and I soundlessly whimper in pain as I balance on my knees and left hand. But I ignore it and make a run through the freeway.

A hand clasps around my ankle, making me stumble. I prevent my near falling, kicking back at the therian holding my feet. The one who had been hit first by me gets up and grasps me across my torso, probably to contain my movements. The adrenaline is pumping so viciously inside me that I violently thrash about, trying to get rid of his hold. Another therian steps forward, punching me mercilessly across my left cheek. Pain explodes as I realize that he had fluxed his arm and my cheek is probably adorned with scratchesnow.

That pisses me off so much that I push against him forcefully, violently, taking both the therians, the one holding across my torso and the one punching, by surprise. Appalled, the therian in the front staggers, almost falling but catches himself at the right moment by taking support from the nearby sofa. The one behind me stumbles and he apparently doesn't like that, as he pushes me forcefully. This time I fail to attain balance and collide harshly with the wall. I jerk, grunt and fall in a heap on the floor.

My right arm viciously protests against the shocking jerks and force, but the adrenaline makes me get up incredibly fast. I punch, as best as I can, the therian that approaches me; distractedly noticing that working with a left hand is not a walk in the park.Violently, I push the therian against another therian that is behind him. In the next second, two more therians collide with the therians I have pushed and all of them fall unceremoniously on the floor.

"Run!" Aakir shouts at me. He doesn't spare me a glance though, his wild hair and eyes in absolute frenzy as he starts throwing punches and kicks at the therians who are struggling to get to their feet.

I turn on my heel and run. Aakir can teleport himself once he has created enough diversion for me to escape. People have gathered at the borders of the room, to avoid being entangled in the chaos. There is more shouting, more terrified yelps, some women even crying. Exiting the waiting room, I am greeted by exit gates at the other end. Two guards with rifles are already marching towards this end. They see my disheveled state and start running. But these are only human, so even with my broken arm, it takes minimum dodging to get past them and make them stumble on their feet.

And I am out of the gates.

I do not pause, running barbarically. There are some startled gasps as people immediately move out of the way. I run and keep running, avoiding the alarmed looks of people. I must be a sight. Arm in a sling, bloody cheek, disheveled hair and running viciously as if ghosts are on my trail. But I don't stop. I do not know how fast and far I have run, but feel relief that I am absolutely away from the hospital premises.

I continue to run and run, till my right arm starts protesting, this time much louder than the past times. I see a bus turning a corner from on the road which I am at. Letting the adrenaline fuel me, I increase my speed and run after the bus. Once I am running exactly side by side with bus do I realize that I am running at my full speed. No wonder people's hazy faces are a blur of shock as I pass them by. The knowledge makes me jerk a little, my speed decreasing. I immediately grasp hold of the handle on the door of the bus which is already open.With a jump, I climb in. There are some yelps and astonished noises as I tumble in.

I straighten up, my paused feet shocking my rest of the body. But I refrain from trembling as I casually run my hand through my blonde locks, hoping to tame down my hair. I avoid the appalled looks of the travellers and move to sit at a window seat.

Gasping for air, I cradle my arm as I focus on the extensive pain. Biting my lip to not cringe in pain, I let my head fall sideways on the window pane. The ticket collector comes, giving me a stern look. I grimace as I move to take out money from my back pocket. I am given a ticket and finally left alone to wallow in my pains. I assure myself that there are only humans around as I sense their auras. Finally, I attempt at relaxing my body as I slump against the seat. My heart is pumping so fiercely that I can feel the beats in my ear.

I am reminded that I should be getting off the bus and go back towards the hospital and find a newspaper shop somewhere nearby. Neal must be waiting at the hotel we have decided. But I don't know how much a good idea it is to move towards the hospital again. I let myself a break, refusing to think about this for just a moment. It may just reprieve the throbbing ache in my temple if not my arm. I close my eyes, trying to calm my thoughts. As the adrenaline rush starts to wear off, I am painfully reminded of the shocks my body has faced.

A scream and several startled yelps and gasps jolt me out of my 'relaxing' time. Immediately going on high alert, I look around.

"Come on, get up." Aakir says, seemingly have appeared out of thin air inside the bus. He ignores the scared passengers and impatiently motions for me to get up. I immediately comply. There are scared yelps and cries, as people move out of the way as we walk down the aisle. Passengers force themselves against the windows, to avoid whatever Aakir is. Aakir ignores them and with no qualms, jumps out of the door while the bus is still moving. It causes even more yells and screams from the passengers. Hoping a scene is not created, I follow suit.

I grimace as various pains explode in different parts of my body at the sudden movements, but nothing matches the agonizing pain throbbing in my arm and head. I keep my complaints at bay and turn towards Aakir. He has started crossing the road, making me sigh and follow him.

"We need to go back." I say, matching his pace. "Neal is waiting-"

"I'll get Neal. Don't worry about it." Aakir says, "We need to keep switching roads. We'll find some hotel in the outskirts."

I follow his lead. And so, throughexcruciating pain, I continue to follow Aakir as we move from one bus to another, once in a while grabbing a taxi. I don't even know which part of the city we are moving to. For all I know, we are just randomly hitting roads. My headache doesn't allow me to interpret the Russian signs with ease. But the movement acts as a distraction from my pains, so I feel glad to be in motion. I know that when I end up resting, letting all the adrenaline flush out, my body will become much more difficult to deal with.

So, after mindless routes and a couple of hours we reach a dingy part of the city, probably an area which doesn't come under the core city. My legs start shaking terribly as we walk down the alley, my vision blurring. I force my eyes open, refusing to let my weakened state empower me. Thankfully, Aakir decides on a hotel. A small lone hotel, with grubby walls and an equally unattractive sign board in Russian, 'Guest house'. Original, I know.

We enter the 'reception' of the hotel. The floor and walls are covered in soot and there is lingering odor of tobacco in the air. It burns my nose, my already protesting eyes watering. A desk is there, with a pudgy man sitting behind it and watching some show in the small television set perched on one of the corners. Disinterestedly, the man turns towards the intruders. He does a double take when he takes in Aakir's and mine sight. We aren't looking all rosy. It's easy to make out we just got out of a fight.

"We need a room." Aakir says.

"Speak Russian?" the man replies in heavily accented Russian. Great, he doesn't know English. With the several pains exuding from several parts of my body, I really don't want to get into a broken Russian conversation. Aakir also hesitates, probably mentally cursing that we are not fluent in Russian language. But he tries. He speaks in broken words, occasionally motioning with his hands that we require two separate queen beds in a single room. Settling on the price, the man asks for our IDs. Aakir doubles the price and the man hands over the keys easily.

There is no lift. We have taken a room on the first floor, so I shouldn't be very grumpy about no lift. My house is three storied. I am accustomed to climbing stairs, so I definitely have no reason to complain. Of course that is if we forget the abrasive state of my body. My body hinders my movement as I start climbing the stairs. The simple act of lifting my leg makes me realize that even my legs are hurting terribly.

Halfway through the stairs, my body sways as my vision blurs again. Aakir immediately grasps me, preventing me from falling. His face becomes lined with concern as he finally takes in my severely worn out state. He supports my weight as we walk to our room number. I don't complain, actually feeling glad for the support. Once inside, he drops me on the bed. I lay sideways on my left side, cradling my right arm. Aakir says something about bringing Neal and something else that I fail to hear as my mind gives up and I pass out.

When I come about, it's the clinking sound of the door lock being opened that catches my attention. I feel no aura, but can hear two people entering the room and closing the door behind. I shift slightly on the uncomfortable bed. The simple movement makes me become aware of the tormenting pains emanating from different parts of my body. My back and neck are absolutely stiff, aching when I shift. My legs feel numb and I am sure they'll give out if I try to stand. My jaw aches when I swallow and there is stinging pain on the left side of my face.

But the worst are the aches of my right arm and head. My arm, still in the sling, is sending pulses of pain that cracks through my whole body, finally settling somewhere deep inside my brain. That is resulting into an absolutely mind ticking, painfully throbbing of all the headaches I have ever experienced in my life. Still, grimacing, I force myself to sit up, supporting most of my weight on my left side. I make sure that my right arm is exposed to minimum movement. It must have faced hellish movements during my fight and flight. It's high time I prevent any further torture.

My eyes sting as I force them open. I move to sit on the edge of the bed, resting my left elbow on my knee, in a bent posture. I am still wearing my shoes, I notice. I rub my eyes, wishing the stinging and the headache will go away.

I look up to see Aakir approaching me. Neal is still standing beside the door, the bag swung on his shoulder. He looks appalled, concerned and angry all at once. His jaw is clenched tightly as he frowns at me.

"You look like shit. How are you feeling now?" Aakir asks. A contradictory question as to his previous statement but I decide to humor him anyways.

"It can be worse." I tell Aakir, my voice throaty and raspy.

Somehow, my answer thoroughly displeases Neal as he angrily marches to the nearby table and even more angrily slumps the bag on it.

Aakir sits beside me, wearily eyeing Neal once before turning towards me. "Anything particularly bothering apart from your arm?" he asks.

My whole body, I want to say. But I simply rub my eyes again and sigh, "Headache." I mumble.

"I saw a pharmacy at the turn of the alley." Neal mutters as he showers his wrath on the zipper of the bag, "I'll get his medicines." He says to Aakir, ignoring me. He holds up a paper which I assume is my prescription.

He starts walking towards the door, making me frown. Is it even safe for any of us to move out here? Granted we are far off from foes, but still. I decide to voice my worry.

"I don't think you should go alone-"

"Fuck off, Lichinsky!" Neal thunders, turning around to glare at me.

Aakir and I, startled by his yell, sit still shocked after his outburst. Neal turns around, moving out and banging the door close loudly. I cringe as the loud sound worsens my headache.

Aakir and I sit side by side in an awkward silence. I close my eyes, feeling a pulsating headache as thoughts concerning Neal flow into my mind. He is exceptionally angry. He is obviously furious that I have landed in this state, something which he had been aiming to prevent from the time we escaped our room in the hospital. He was convinced, and still must be, that if he had stayed behind then the therians wouldn't have found him. I would have drunk the repellant and would have escaped safely, landing in an even safer cocoon.

But I falsely tricked him into escaping in my stead. It's not that I didn't find his theory creditable. It's just that I didn't want to take any chances. But that thought holds less importance to Neal when he does not want us to suffer because of him.

He has a weird way of showing concern, I realize while recalling his angry stance.

Or maybe, just maybe, he is angry that I kissed him.

In that scenario, I am not sure if he is angry that I 'kissed' him or because I used a kiss to make him drink the repellant.

"Whoa." Aakir says after the awkward silence. "Trouble in paradise?"

I hesitate then nod at Aakir.

"I have never seen Neal this angry." He says, "And I have seen Neal plenty angry in this last month. Even on our way here, he got seriously ticked off when I told him about our fight at the hospital. I just thought he is angry at the council people. But apparently you did something to piss him off."

"I kissed him." I reflexively blurt.

Aakir's reaction is something that I would have loved to record if I wasn't in such a severe state. His eyes comically widen, his jaw hanging open as he looks at me with an expression of disbelief. He starts sputtering. Something along the lines of 'wh-what?', 'How?' and 'wh-wh-y?' and a combination of other jumbled words. I sigh.

I ask him to calm down and start explaining what had actually conspired in the hospital. Somehow, I manage to elaborate everything through my lancinating headache. Everything, like how guilty Neal has been feeling and how inexorably he wanted me out. I focus on how stubborn Neal was being and how difficult he can be in one of his stubborn episodes.

I do not divulge about Neal's plea. It's highly uncharacteristic of Neal to plead to someone and I just do not want to expose that vulnerable side of him to anyone else. It's not in my right to do so. I instead explain my own dilemma. About how Neal's theory was making sense to me and still I did not want to take an inch of chance on it. And how in the act of desperation, I could only think of one thing that will catch Neal off guard. Enough off guard to permit me to commit the deed.

"Okay," Aakir clears his throat once I am done narrating, "I think I get where you're coming from..."

No, he doesn't get where I am coming from. He is just saying that to ease my worrisome conscience.

"Stop being awkward." I mutter to him, rubbing my eyes again, "I think....I think Neal is upset that I made him drink the repellant in my stead."

"Yeah. He doesn't seem happy with your state." He agrees, "Also, he mustn't have had problem with the 'kiss'...much."

"Well, I am sure he is having plenty problems over that. But that's a side issue."

"I don't know. I mean, you guys were being pretty mushy back in the hospital room. So, I don't think-"

"Seriously, Aakir?" I snap at him, "Good thing you've picked this topic. Next time, keep your stare to a minimum and don't make things awkward for Neal and I. More awkward than it already is."

"Hey, I am not the one who was holding his hand. It was you."

"He was holding mine." I correct him, "And I was just explaining to him the effects of skin contact with your partner. There was nothing mushy about it. You were the one who made it awkward."

"Effects of-w-what?"

I look at Aakir. He looks confused, a frown on his face.

"You've never touched Silvia?" I sigh, my question sounding like a sentence.

Aakir's frown deepens.

"When you meet her next," I say, "shake her hand. You'll know what I am talking about."

The front door decides to open in that moment. Neal enters with a paper bag in hand. He sees us, his eyes darting from Aakir to me, looking suspicious. However, he ignores us. He walks to the table and starts putting the bag there. He settles on rummaging through it and taking out the contents, which are mostly medicines.

Aakir clears his throat, heightening the already awkward atmosphere. I glare at him, but give up halfway. My headache is not very happy with me glaring at people right now.

"Alright." Aakir says, getting up. "I am going to go back now. See what's happening at the mansion."

"Is that a good idea?" Neal mutters, "Somebody must have informed the council about the hospital fiasco by now."

Neal's reasoning makes sense. We have left five therian witnesses back at the hospital who have seen Aakir help me escape by violent measures. But somehow, I feel that Neal doesn't want to be alone with me and is therefore putting forth this reasoning. The thought makes me cringe inwardly.

"I won't know till I don't go." Aakir says, shrugging. "Besides my body is there. I won't be exactly hiding if I stay here."

Neal simply nods at that. Aakir gives one look between Neal and I, then nods in farewell. Next moment, he is gone. Poof.

The silence climbs up soon enough and so does the inevitable tension. Neal doesn't heed me any attention. He simply turns about and keeps rummaging in the bag for some thing or the other. My headache worsens as I worry over the now uncomfortable air. I have been aware that these few hours will not be the best for me considering Neal is not exuding his aura, but I certainly didn't want it to be this awkward between us.

I find myself hunching even more and rubbing my eyes furiously. The throbbing aches force me to not entertain worrisome thoughts. In fact, it forces me to remain completely blank. But I find that impractical as Neal moves and stands directly in front of me. His shoes are the first thing I see as I am hunched over. I tilt my head to look up at him. His face is expressionless. He simply juts out his hands, one of which is carrying a glass of water and the other my medicines. I sigh and grab the medicines with my left hand first.

My skin clashes with his, but this time there is no overflow of excited goodness. Yet, I feel tingling sensations working up in my gut and I am sure my face has started to burn again. Neal doesn't comment. He patiently waits for me to take the pills. I take the glass from him next, careful to not touch him anymore. I swallow the pills with the help of water. Neal steps back, going towards the direction of the bag again. He is back in an instant, taking the empty glass from me. He hands over an ointment tube. I look up at him, slightly squinting due to the pain. I hope he understands my inquisitiveness.

"For your freak of a face." He says. He looks stoic, but his voice and words are oozing bitterness.

I grimace at his antagonism. But without replying, I take the collapsible tube from him.

"You might want to wash your face first. Clean up a bit." Neal suggests, his voice slightly tamer now. He is moving towards the bag again.

He is right. I can practically taste the grime covering me. Travelling for two hours in crowded and polluted areas will not give me a flawless, cleanest skin. Besides, I am sure there must be some dried blood too, thanks to the scratches on my cheek. Those will be requiring some cleaning. I haven't seen a mirror yet, so I don't know how bad they look.

To be honest, I don't really want to move from this place. Getting up to sit in this posture has already greeted me with escalated pain. Already, without movement, my body is being a pain in the ass. I don't really want to stand on my feet and test my body more. But on the other hand, I am not in a position to expect Neal to help me. Asking out loud for help is out of the question.

Sighing, I try to boost my courage. Keeping my painful grunts at bay, I force my body to stand. Immediately I feel my feet wobble. In my periphery view, I notice how Neal stiffens. He is still beside the table, his hands on the bag. But I can feel his eyes on me, his body rigid as he anticipates my next movements.

I stand for a few moments, letting my feet get accustomed to the pressure. I move then, taking tiny steps towards the only door aside from the main door in this room. I manage three-four steps after which I feel my balance giving away. I immediately stop, rooting my feet to the floor.

"Whoa, okay." Neal says, coming towards me. I frown at him as he takes the ointment tube from me, "Just sit down." He commands.

A particularly bad pulse of headache shoots up as I deepen my frown at Neal. I grimace, complying with Neal's 'request'. Neal motions with his hands impatiently, silently indicating that I stay put. He disappears and turns up moments later with a wet hand towel. He hands over the towel to me.

"Clean up your face." He says, "Be light on your cheek and jaw."

I blink at him, "Don't these need proper cleaning?" I ask, pointing to my left cheek.

Neal rolls his eyes, "We are running on limited cash. I bought only the necessary medicines for you. Besides the cuts are not deep," he waves at my cheek, "they are just red marks. I don't think they'll need an antiseptic."

I decide to agree with his judgment, mainly because I am really not in a state to put up contradictions or opinions. Clumsily, I wipe my face. I am not a lefty, so don't judge me. It stings when I place the wet towel on my left cheek, but the cooling sensation is soothing. Without moving, I keep the damp towel along the cheek for several movements. I close my eyes, reveling in this little relief that I am able to grasp.

After significant minutes, I feel a sharp poke on my left shoulder. I open my eyes, annoyed. Neal is frowning down at me.

"Don't sleep." He says.

"I wasn't sleeping." I mumble.

Neal exasperatedly sighs, "Then hurry up, so you can sleep."

I comply, only because I do feel sleepy. My body is literally craving an endless sleep. I wipe my face, cringing as my jaw pains at contact. When I am sure my face must be slightly decent, I move onto my neck, wiping that clean too. I have a strong urge to take a bath. But I know my body won't allow it, not now. When I am done, Neal is there in an instant. He opens the ointment tube, squeezing a little amount on his finger. He jerks my face up as I squint at him. He starts applying it on my left cheek. I grimace at first, hoping that my face is not turning red. Soon, a similar cooling sensation spreads across my cheek. It makes me sigh in relief.

"Now, go to sleep." Neal says, packing away the ointment.

I suspire. I remove my shoes with difficulty. With greater difficulty, I make myself lie flat on the bed, watching the uneven ceiling above me. It takes me only seconds to succumb to sleep.

When I wake up next, the first feeling to wash over me is relief. My body is not painfully aching anymore. There is stiffness and dull ache, but otherwise my body feels loads better. Most of all, I am utmost glad to be rid of the splitting headache. Without my mind bursting, I feel almost fresh. The only thing that can make me feel even fresher would be a hot bath. I can only pray that my body is capable of enough movement to accomplish that. I shift slightly on the bed, to check if there is any part particularly bothering me. But there is no specific pain from any specific part, except for my arm of course, which bothers on slight movement. I guess I'll have to live with that. No complaints from my side, because even the bruises on my face don't seem to be bothering me as of now. Plus, there is no headache, something I am the most thankful for. I suppose the medicines have worked their magic.

I look around, tilting my head. I instantly freeze at the sight of Neal on his bed. Neal is sitting in his meditation posture- cross legged, hands on knees, palm facing up, straight back and closed eyes. I sit up, wincing at the stiffness of my body. At least there isn't any throbbing ache.

"Neal?" I say quietly, my voice hoarse from sleep.

I am taken aback as Neal's eyes open up at my voice. He doesn't turn his head towards me though. He blinks slowly, as if coming out of a trance. He rubs his eyes with the palm of his hands once before turning towards me. He immediately frowns.

"You feeling okay?" he asks quietly.

Again, I am taken aback by his complacent, almost concerned tone. I simply nod at him.

"You were meditating." I state.

Neal nods, his placid stance and silence slightly unnerving me. It's weird how much I prefer the snarky Neal.

"Was trying to see if I can project myself. Maybe change one or two things in our favor." He reveals.

Effortlessly, my face contorts into a scowl at that. He knows how much I despise this ability of his, but again, when does he listen to me? I believe I am being irrational by disliking something that can turn the situation in our favor. If we just patiently sit and let Neal envisage a view with no hardships for us then I should be encouraging it.

But it's tough to encourage something that has landed us into this situation in the first place. I don't want Neal to be an oddity. I don't want Neal to envisage the future at all. It is not normal and sure as hell not something that should be encouraged. I simply don't like Neal being something different, doing something so different, which will invariably make unwanted people bend in his direction.

But sometimes it becomes essential to let go of the surprising, undesired turns of life and be certain of our wellbeing in the distant future. Our situation calls for such understanding. Yet, I find myself against Neal being the one to alter reality, to be someone who would always be looked upon as the oddity who changed the course of our lives, even if it is for the better. Because as far as I see, our betterment is capable of instigating resentment in a number of people. And I'll be damned if I let Neal be at the end of the arrow poisoned with that resentment.

Also, I don't really underestimate us. I am optimistic, that somehow things will work our way. That we are capable of making our own future.

"It's good that you woke up on your own." Neal says, driving me out of my reverie. "It's almost seven in the morning. You've slept for almost eight hours."

I hum. With the harassment my body faced, I may have required twenty four hours' worth sleep. But eight hours is keeping me satisfied enough.

I look around the room. The curtains are not pulled on the only window in the room, so I cannot see how bright it is outside. Neal has also kept the light on in the room. I look around once, for the first time taking in the room we're in since I was pretty much out of it last night. Plain white walls, dirtying on occasional spots. A fading maroon carpet is on the floor, matching the curtains, which look equally faded. The bed is also not comfortable, but considering my state last night, even a pile of hay would have done. My eyes linger on the fading stains on the bed sheet. A squinching feeling creeps over me. I absolutely despise dirty surroundings. The urge to take a bath increases tenfold.

"I want to take a bath." I announce.

Neal nods slowly, "You should." He gets up, stretching his legs. "I had got some breakfast for you too." he points at the nightstand where a wrapped sandwich sits, "It has gotten cold, but...whatever. You can eat it after freshening up."

My eyes narrow suspiciously. Is it just me or Neal is actually being extra polite and tranquil with me? And did he say he got me breakfast? He had gone outside?

"You went out." I say, my tone slightly accusing.

Neal blankly stares at me for a long moment. I mentally start preparing the verbal onslaught for whatever lame excuse Neal may have to support his rebellion. But surprisingly, working my mind so early in the morning is not needed after all.

After an eon of staring, Neal nods at me slowly, "There's a 24/7 food stall right at the turn of the corner. You were sleeping, I was bored. Figured it'd save time."

Now it's my turn to stare at him blankly. 24/7 food stall? Bored? Save time? Where the hell is the 'You're not the boss of me; I can go wherever and whenever I want'? He hasn't even used a single curse word either. My suspicion grows.

"Save time for what?" I ask with narrow eyes.

Neal hesitates, as if he is realizing that he said something he wasn't supposed to, "Why don't you freshen up? We'll talk afterwards."

"Neal." I interject, "What is it?"

Neal sighs, contemplating. Then he rolls his eyes. "We're going back." He says, his tone hardening as he drops his 'polite' façade.

"Back?"

"Yes, back. I have already booked our tickets for the morning ship-"

"Whoa, whoa-" I snap, furiously frowning at him, "What the hell?"

"I don't want an argument over this, Lichinsky. We're going back and it's final."

"Are you shitting me?"

"No. Just freshen up, okay? We have to reach the port by 8.30. So, we'll have to leave by 8."

With that, Neal walks away towards our bag.

I watch him agape for a few minutes as he fidgets around. I shake myself out of the stupor.

"Neal-"

"Don't." he immediately says, his arms raised in frustration but his eyes are trained on the bag he is packing. "I don't want to fight."

I run my good hand down my face. I don't want to instigate a dispute either. Already we are not on good terms, therefore I am definitely not in favor of worsening things. But his demand to return back sounds impetuous and sudden. I don't blame myself for being weary. We had persuaded Neal for not going back with much difficulty yesterday. And today he has started again; the only improvement being his resolution to tag me along. Still, Neal is being needlessly impetuous. Or maybe he has some reasoning and I am jumping to my own judgmental conclusions. The bad thing is that I don't have Aakir by my side right now. I hate being a pushover. I look at Neal, sighing.

"Will you at least tell me what made you decide so?" I ask quietly.

Neal falters in his work, his hands uncertainly hovering over the bag. He runs a hand through his hair, looking flustered.

"I just don't want to keep running, okay?" he says.

"Nobody wants that. But that doesn't mean that we make decisions impulsively."

"I have put a lot of thought to it." Neal says dryly, rolling his eyes.

"Really?" I say sarcastically. Is he kidding me? Overnight he has realized that returning is the best option?

Neal stares at me for a long moment then says in a quiet tone, "I said I didn't want to fight."

I open my mouth but close it. Because I only have snarky remarks or antagonistic responses to his words. But Neal is right. It's high time we get over our differences and stop fighting every chance we get. I wish I could sense his aura. I am sure the pleasant feeling will help me with keeping an open mind, because right now I just feel that any opinion other than mine is wrong. The feeling can almost be compared to paranoia. Sadly, Neal's aura is not going to reappear till today evening. So I'll have to do with my paranoid and fidgety state.

Still, I feel obliged to put forth at least a feeble argument. Old habits die hard.

I look at Neal, "I don't-" is all I manage to say before Neal is interrupting me again. It's as if he knew I'll be speaking.

"Aakir's on lockdown." he cuts me off.

"What?"

"I called Aakir last night from the telephone booth across the street. And thanks to the brawl in the hospital yesterday, he is not allowed to project from his human body anymore. The verdict on his actions is yet to be voiced, mainly because the council is busy preparing themselves for the Occultist's visit. Apparently...not having us there is enough reason for them to make our life hell anyways."

"Of course..." I mutter, quite shocked with the news about Aakir. As for the council being worried about not having us amongst them, that's understandable. I don't think the Occultists will be polite to see the vaticinator not amongst them. "B-but-"

"If we don't go," Neal interrupts me again, "Your father and grandfather will face the occultists and now even Aakir. I don't know what the occultists will do to them, but I am sure it's not going to be anything pleasant."

I swallow at that. That is the part I have been avoiding to think about. Though Aakir kept saying that they'll work something out, I don't know if there is anything to work out with. The case is as open as day. Is there even anything to make excuse upon?

"Does it not," Neal begins hesitatively,"seem like a good option to you because I am suggesting it?"

I glare at him. "It doesn't seem like a good option because you're thinking as impetuously as you were yesterday. It's clear that the council is not going to be lenient with us. Definitely not after the brawl yesterday. Dad is working to keep us out of the loop; and thinking with a sane mind, I find his judgment okay."

"Even if he would be the one suffering because of us?"

I flinch, not commenting on that.

"The worst case scenario that I can imagine is your father taking the blame for the Occultist's death." Neal says.

I look at him, shocked. I hadn't even thought of this possibility.

"But," Neal starts again, not even letting me get over the shock, "I don't think your father is that stupid. Because if he admits to being the culprit, he'll be punished...probably by death, from what I have learned of your customs. But even after that the occultists will not stop looking for us because I am the vaticinator and you'dbecome the culprit's son. So...the case would remain unresolved. Therefore, I don't think your father is stupid enough to sacrifice himself for nothing.

"But that brings us to square one. Maybe your father can distract the occultists for some time, but they'll eventually start seeking us. Now even Aakir cannot come to help us escape every time. And if I had to keep running and hiding like this....then I would have just run away before this whole ordeal even started. At least in that case, I might have just lived up to my old age." Neal pauses, "Not to mention, we don't know what your family may be forced to undergo because of our absence."

I hate to admit how much Neal is making sense. I go over his words for a few minutes, staring at nothingness. Thankfully, Neal doesn't push me. He simply stands beside the table, his hands crossed over his chest, allowing me to think over things clearly. But I believe he is aware that he has already halfway won. He has hit where it counts-my family. He is right. My family will come out to be in a compromising situation if this keeps going on. My initial worry over my family returns full force as Neal makes me focus on that again. Already Aakir has landed himself in a jeopardizing situation. We cannot run forever. But this abrupt change of plan seems too sudden....too early.

I run a hand through my hair, "Maybe we should wait for some time." I half-heartedly suggest.

Neal shakes his head, "Aakir told me he broke Julian's ankle yesterday." I nod in confirmation. He continues, "So, the most unlikely day for any of those council therians to return would be today. They would probably want Julian to have a slight break. Though we are moving in their nest anyways....I would still not prefer to be under their scouting stares on the way back. Today is the safest option."

I frown at air, thinking of the developments that can come forth with this change. But even through my dubious state, deep down I know that Neal is making sense. I was against Father facing harsh judgments alone since the beginning. He will not be happy with our decision. But as Neal said, either we go now, or we go months later. Or we get caught years later. At least with the first option I will have the reassurance that my family is not suffering because of us.

Though there is one thing particularly bothering me.

"Why did you call Aakir?" I ask. I am already somewhat aware of the answer but I still want Neal to admit it.

He hesitates, "Just for an update." He shrugs.

"Yeah, right." I mumble, then begin loudly, "You know I don't like you making use of-"

"I know." He snaps.

"-Yeah, but apparently my opinion doesn't matter. You seem to have no qualms about asking Aakir to come help you project; at my back, I may add."

"You just can't let an opportunity to fight go by, can you?" he replies sassily.

"You cannot just do things and not expect me to comment on them!" I retort, my voice increasing.

"You're one to talk."

"At least I don't do things at your back."

Neal sighs, frustrated, "What's the big deal? Yeah, you hate my abilities but they can make a lot of difference in our situation. You can't blame me for not making use of them. In fact, it's your 'idealistic' notion that I shouldn't use my abilities is what doesn't make sense to me. If it can bring things in our favor, then why the hell are you against it?"

"Because it's unnatural." I reply hotly. As expected, Neal scoffs and I know he is thinking about my metamorphosing ability which is also far from normal. But I ignore his attitude and continue, "Yeah, therians are not normal but you're an oddity amongst them as well. You should never forget that this skill of yours is what got you in the mess in the first place. At some point people will realize that the events occurring are your doings. And they will not stop pointing fingers at you. Can't you at least work towards not standing out like a sore thumb? I just want you to be normal. Things will work out. I don't think we're completely incapable so to need your assistance."

Neal keeps staring for a few moments. I hold his gaze, frowning at him. I am astonished he is not riposting back. But I suppose I make sense to him at some level. After an eon Neal averts his eyes. It makes me realize that we had just been staring at each other. Surprisingly, he looks slightly sheepish. He looks back at me, his cheeks uncharacteristically turning pink. I blink at him, wondering if my eyes are fooling me. Neal has never blushed so blatantly before.

"You should get ready." He says, waving his hand towards me.

His face is getting redder, much to my surprise. I don't know what he is thinking and I am half tempted to ask what has him blushing. But my thoughts immediately move towards our 'kiss'. That causes embarrassment to plague me too and I remove my sheets, getting up from the bed, avoiding Neal altogether. I stretch a little, checking for any sore spots. My ribs, arm and jaw ache, but otherwise I feel fine. Much better than yesterday, so I have no complaints. I check the time. It's nearing seven thirty, so we have more than half hour to leave this place.

"How did you even get the tickets?" I ask Neal, moving towards the washroom.

I don't get a response. That makes me frown. Before opening the washroom's door, I turn around. I immediately reel back. Neal is standing right behind me, at a foot distance. He seems to be in a trance as he raises his eyebrows at me, as if he wasn't expecting me to turn around.

"I asked – how did you get the tickets?" I repeat, feeling slightly alarmed at Neal's absentmindedness.

"Oh." Neal says, handing over the towel and my clothes to me, for which he seems to be following me in the first place. "Surprisingly, this hotel has a computer system and a Wi-Fi."

I hesitate, cradling all the stuff Neal has handed against my chest with my good arm. "Did you even sleep last night?" I ask him.

He went to call Aakir last night. He went to ask for availability of a computer system and Wi-Fi. He searched for the nearest port and booked our tickets. He also got us food in the middle of the night, which is stale by now. Above that, he had been mediating when I got up. And form the looks of it, he seemed to be meditating since quite a few hours. When the hell did he sleep?

Neal rolls his eyes, "Get ready." He says ephemerally, avoiding my question.

I open my mouth to retort at his ignorance, but resist.

Yes.

Yes, I should definitely stop grabbing every opportunity to fight with him.

  26. Blossoming

I feel a finger poking my forehead. My closed eyes pinch and my face scrunches up in annoyance. I sleepily swat the finger away and adjust my head on the stiff pillow. Thankfully, the finger doesn't bother me again. I find myself almost at the brink of falling asleep again when a whole hands starts jerking my shoulder. My eyes immediately fly open, annoyed. I am greeted by Neal's face who is also frowning back at me. I blink, caught off guard by him leaning down on the side of the bed. I straighten up, immediately sitting andstretching my body. Neal quietly sighs, standing up and picking up a tray from the side taboret.

"Eat up." He says.

"You broke my sleep." I mumble, half annoyed.

"You need to eat." He stresses.

Sleepily, I grab the trayfrom his hand. "I'll feel queasy." I point out, trying to stifle a yawn.

"You need to eat anyways. You can't starve yourself. Maybe you should move out, enjoy the cool air a bit. You're stuck in the room since morning."

"I would have if not for the drowsiness." I mutter.

I get up from the bed. I look out of the small window of our room, which greets me with the sight of the darkening sky, the river, the river bank beyond and the forest trees moving backwards. That's the same scene I am being greeted with every time I wake up. I have honestly realized that I do not like voyaging;even if I am asleep for more than half the day.

I stretch my muscles again, sighing with relief at my movements. I have been lying in this god forsaken bed for almost ten hours. That may not have been a problem much, except for the fact that I have been dozing on and off since we have boarded. The medicines I have taken in the morning, and again in the afternoon, have been excessively sedative. I have been in deep slumber since the time we settled in our allotted room; occasionally waking up for five or so minutes, before dozing off again.

Not to mention, I have been feeling woozy since our journey started. That has prevented me from eating much since morning. I don't get sea sickness, so I blame the medicines and probably the stale sandwich I ate at the last hotel, for this unpredictable outcome. But I am pain free; only my right arm aches on movement. Most of all, I am headache free. So I swallow down all of my complaints. You give something, you get something, right?

I walk to the small bathroom attached with our room. I splash water on my face multiple times. I am determined to stay awake for the rest of the day, whatever is left of it. One would expect me to be absolutely relaxed to have slept through the day. But it has managed to only enhance my paranoia. For the reasons only known to the Goddess, I am excessively doubtful about our course. Granted, I have not been conscious much to worry over the issue. But whenever in the right mind, I cannot help but feel that this decision to go back is going to shoot us in the back. I am more than half sure this is a bad idea. We shouldn't be going back. I even find myself expressing surprise at my own agreement to depart so quickly.

Also, Neal is again being his thoughtful self, something that I have come to deeply despise. Again, I shouldn't really complain about his quietness when I have been asleep the whole day. But even for the few minutes when I have been up, Neal has looked lost in his thoughts, deeply thinking in the world he has conjured up in his mind. His thinking stance and silence is only making me doubt our situation; even doubt his judgment regarding the issue.

I am probably this anxious because it has been too much time since I sensed Neal's aura. Glancing at the fading light through the small window, I realize that his aura should start radiating within a few minutes, if it hasn't already started. About time as well. I want to be rid of the skittishness. His aura may just act as an incentive that will keep me away from sleep too.

I enter the room, shutting the door behind me. Neal is sitting cross legged, his back against the wall behind the bed. His hands are wrapped across his torso and he seems in deep thought. On catching my eye, he blinks.

I quietly sigh, moving towards the other side of the bed. Our room is small with a three-quarter bed, a taboret, a single couch and a coffee table. It was a little surprising when I first entered it. When I had come to Dudinka with father and Aakir, we had taken up bode in a much larger, much fancier room with three separate queen beds. Maybe we're low on money. My medicines don't seem to have come cheap. But...I falter, settling on the bed. Hadn't Neal booked the room in the cruise online? I look at him, frowning.

"You booked our tickets online?" I ask him.

Neal looks surprised. He probably expects me to eat, whatever I can, and succumb to sleep again, as I have been doing the whole day. But no more. I am determined to stay awake this time.

"Yes." He answers.

"With the...credit card?" I ask dubiously.

"...Yes."

"I thought dad had asked you to not use his credit cards."

Neal averts his eyes, his hands tightening across his torso. He shrugs at me.

Well...maybe it doesn't matter now, seeing as how we're anyways going back. But at least he could have booked a more comfortable room. Or was he afraid of spending too much from father's card? I don't think father would mind. Not if he gave his credit card to Neal. But, as I said, it doesn't really matter now.

I unwrap the food on my tray and take small bites from it. My mind absentmindedly goes wandering. I wish we could contact Aakir or father or anyone. We certainly can contact, if we borrow someone's phone or use one of the phones on the ship, but what would be the point? They are as much helpless as Neal and I are. According to Neal, the occultists will be coming to the Realm at around midnight of the tenth day from now. That'll be the day when we'll get off the ship at Krasnoyarsk. Upon questioning about how he knew about the timings, he simply said that Aakir informed him so.

I have been so out of it for the past twenty four hours that I am unaware of half of the things Neal has managed to do or know. But he patiently answers any question I have.

Yet, I find myself entertaining more number of questions in my mind, which I am sure Neal doesn't have answers too. What will happen when we reach the headquarters? How will father react? He will be pissed, no doubt. How will the council react? Will they surround us like fugitives and throw us in front of the Occultists? I have never encountered even one occultist, don't mind twelve of them, in my life. Father deems it a miracle and utter good fortune to have spent your life without encountering one. Those words of him are now making me feel deplorable when I imagine the various scenarios of standing in front of twelve ugly witches.

My appetite vanishes at the depressing thoughts. Despondently, I turn towards Neal.

"At what exact time had you drunk the repellant?" I ask impatiently.

Neal looks at me, blank at first. Then as if he understands my question a second later, his face contorts into a scowl.

"I didn't drink the repellant." He stresses on his words, making sure that they ooze bitterness.

It takes me several moments to get over my confused state and understand the accusation in his tone. Neal has been acting so normal since morning; answering any of my questions, taking care of me and whatnot. I almost forgot about his angry stance the previous night and the reason behind it. As I remember the 'kiss' through which I had forced Neal to swallow the liquid, my face flames up in embarrassment.

Obviously. He didn't drink the repellant. I made him drink it. Literally.

We haven't discussed that issue since. It hasn't been much time, only about twenty four hours. But within that twenty four hours I fought with five therians with a broken arm, escaped a hospital like a mental patient, travelled almost half of the city with my brother, in a hideous looking state, finally settling in an even hideous hotel where I passed out from physical and mental exhaustion, but even then lived through the pain of narrating my antics to my brother, and on top of it had my partner ridicule me and take care of me at the same time. Not to mention the dreamless sleep I succumbed to that would have remained unshaken even through the apocalypse, and then have my partner drop the bomb of returning back to the headquarters, deciding through which I was forced to undergo various turmoil of emotions.

It were a very long twenty four hours.Though I shouldn't say that it is only natural I'll forget about the whole kissing thing because of so many things happening at once, but really, it really is natural that I'll forget about our personal issues when a much larger issue is looming above our heads.

We sit in awkward silence, only slight whispers of other passengers from outside our room reaches my ears. And that's probably because I am a therian; I am sure Neal cannot hear even those. Both of us keep staring at the front. We are sitting diagonally, facing each other. So, I am looking at the wall behind Neal, while Neal must have his eyes trained at the door behind me. Though Neal doesn't say anything, I can see from the corner of my eyes how rigid he is siting, his palm occasionally fisting.

He is irked, if not overtly angry.

I am almost regretting bringing up the subject and we haven't even spoken many words over the issue. Jeez, is it going to be like this every time we skirt around the topic? This is ridiculous.

My face burning red, I gather up the courage and clear my throat. Neal doesn't respond, staring straight ahead.

"Eh..." I begin, "I'm sorry." I say quietly. Neal minutely tenses up, but doesn't respond. I sigh, continuing, "I feel really bad for...um, tricking you like that...but, it's done...and I made it...and...Just...sorry, I shouldn't have k-uh...shouldn't have made you drink that...forcefully. Um, yeah, I shouldn't have made you drink that forcefully....I just...couldn't think of anything...and...well...we were running out of time and ...and I didn't want to fight...and you wouldn't have agreed if I tried to persuade otherwise...and just sorry, it somehow...seemed better to fight afterwards..."

...wow, can I, like, get the award for the most awkward speech ever? I cringe and clear my throat again when Neal doesn't speak up.

"I am just sorry, okay?" I say, running my good hand through my hair, "We had limited time...I needed a quick distraction to-uh-, well I needed you to-"

"So," Neal interrupts, his voice steely. He is looking straight ahead, refusing to turn towards me. "Forcing me or persuading me, you anyways were going to make me drink that?"

"Uh..."

"What are you sorry for exactly?"

"..."

"For 'forcing' me?" he hisses, his hands clenching on his sides.

"Yes." I blurt.

And it's the truth. I am not sorry that Neal escaped the hospital safely in my stead; hell I don't think I'll ever regret that decision of mine. I just repent the kiss because it has brought unwanted tension between the two of us. If I hadn't forced it through a kiss, maybe, just maybe, we wouldn't be this awkward.

Apparently, my thoughts are wrong. And so is my answer to Neal. Neal gets a hateful scowl on his face. He even turns towards me, seething and glaring. I don't know if I have ever, and I really mean ever, seen Neal this angry and that's saying something. Involuntarily, I shrink inwards. I have a feeling that Neal is having a hard time in preventing himself from screaming.

I let a distresses sigh escape me as Neal looks away, now glaring at anything in sight. "Neal-"

"Fuck off, Lichinsky." His voice is quiet, but cold. And he is still glaring in the front.

I shake my head, finding this amount of anger a little unreasonable. "Why are you so angry?" I say quietly, "I apologized, and-"

"For something irrelevant." Neal interrupts me again.

I give a pause at that. Apologize for something irrelevant? So. Our kiss, or whatever the fuck it was, is irrelevant? Well, nice to know that. Seems like I am getting riled up for nothing, I think bitterly. Alright. Fine. But if he expects me to apologize for something 'relevant', like supposedly making him go from the hospital, then he is in for a roll. And I state the exact thing aloud,

"I am not sorry for making you leave the hospital."

"Then get your fucking priorities straight!" Neal hisses, keeping his voice low.

"I have got them straight, alright." I snap.

"Oh, yeah? It's fucking peachy to know that my wishes don't stand anywhere."

I look at him, appalled, "I made you leave so you'll be fine!"

"At what cost?" he says through clenched teeth, "A therian could have knocked me dead anytime today, and you would have been busy soothing your worn body in some la-la land, so deeply asleep that even an explosion wouldn't have woken you up." He shakes his head slowly, as if trying to calm himself as I look at him agape. He continues, "So what if they would have caught me and taken me back to the headquarters? We're going there now anyways, aren't we? What was the point of you suffering so much? What was the point of you being stubborn when my theory was making sense? You couldn't even stand last night, Lichinsky. Hell, I doubt you could even see straight. And, alright, let's believe that I wasn't making sense, that my theory held no credit and I was probably speaking from a gone-bonkers mind. Even then, couldn't you just respect my wishes? You said we're to be together through life. Am I to expect my wishes to be thwarted every time? I fucking pleaded to you, Lichinsky. And you thought it'll be all good, all fucking peachy, if you just landed one on me." he ends in sarcastic bitterness.

He looks away, closing his eyes as he calms himself. But I am anything, but calm. I am completely taken aback by his outburst. I don't even know what to say. This is completely unexpected. He seems to be...hurt, which is absolutely uncharacteristic of him. Though, from his speech, it's quite uncertain over what exactly he is hurt. He has expressed his distaste over my battered body, me disrespecting his wishes and our 'kiss' all at once. Still, I can somewhat make out that he is most upset because I disregarded even his earnest pleas and that I am physically hurt because of him.

Neal doesn't seem the type to ask for favors, much less plead someone for one. And he has already been guilty over my father's predicament. I can only imagine his distress to see me physically hurt because of him. Both the thingsseem to have hit him the most. Especially disrespecting his wish part; that I didn't even consider his plea, that I gave no weight to his request; as if it doesn't matter what he keeps asking of me, I'll end up doing what I see fit.

It's embarrassing that the thought has me guilt-ridden.

I never meant to demean his request.Or make him feel as if his opinion doesn't matter to me. Or make him feel any less, that him being vulnerable enough to plea means nothing.

"I am sorry." I find myself saying. I turn to see Neal clenching his jaw, staring ahead, "I really don't know what else to say, to be honest." I mutter, "I am just sorry that you felt like that. It was never my intention to hurt you or anything. But," I pause, stressing, "I am not sorry that you left the hospital instead of me. I'll never be sorry for that. I just feel bad for hurting you...so, sorry."

Neal doesn't reply, but he is not clenching his jaw or hands anymore-a positive sign in my opinion. I am sure he can feel my eyes on him, but he doesn't turn or respond in any gesture. I sigh. At least he is not arguing anymore, and doesn't seem – relatively – angry. I let a few moments pass, as I switch between looking out of the window and at Neal. When the silence becomes overbearing, I get up from bed. I casually fill a tall glass of water on the taboret and settle back on the bed, this time sitting beside Neal with my back against the wall and eyes trained at the door. The bed is small enough that our shoulders brush.

I take a sip of water and bump my shoulder against his, making him give a weary glance in my direction.

"Are we still fighting or what?" I ask.

Neal rolls his eyes. "Finish your damned food." He grumbles.

I eye the half eaten tray in front of me and shrug, "Not hungry."

Neal narrows his eyes, "You haven't eaten anything since morning. At least finish this."

"Is that a wish I am supposed to respect?" I mock, smirking.

Neal gives me a dry look, "As if you listen to everything I say."

"Hey, I am sitting in this ship, aren't I? I have a bad feeling about going back, that I have made a wrong decision. But I am still siting here."

To my utter surprise, Neal's face becomes bright red, the blush even reaching the tips of his ear. He quickly brings a hand to run down his face, probably trying to hide the redness. I awkwardly glance away, repeating my words in my mind and wondering what has instigated the blush. I don't think anything I said was blush worthy. Or is it the fact that I pointed out that I do listen to his opinions?

Neal fake coughs, bringing my attention back to him. Astonishingly, he is smirking, though his face is still plenty red.

"Why the hell are you blushing?" he asks and ends up laughing.

I roll my eyes, discreetly blushing over the fact that I didn't realize that I was blushing. "Just wondering what has you going all red in the face." I grumble, "That's usually my department."

Neal chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn't say anything in response though. So he will probably not answer why he is blushing. He continues to quietly chuckle though, but I fail to see what's so amusing.

"Hey, Lichinsky?" Neal says after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"You're very shy for a jock." He blurts and bursts into another round of sniggers; as if that's the funniest thing he has come across.

"Not everyone's Ray." I quip.

Neal makes a mock horror expression, "Nobody should be Ray."

We continue with our friendly banter through the rest of the night. Surprisingly, we end up laughing on more than one occasion. It takes another hour for Neal's aura to return and the return is more than welcomed by me. Our feud gets several ages old as we converse through the hours. I am quite happy to be on comfortable talking terms with Neal again. His aura uplifts my good mood even more. Ignoring the warning my mind heeds, I find my shoulder smack against his. Even through the layer of clothes, his aura manages to be much empowering than it normally is.

It doesn't take long for Neal to realize why my shoulder is snuggling his. But he doesn't say anything. I am glad for the understanding, where he has figured that he is radiating his aura again and that I am desirous of experiencing the potent form of his aura. He fidgets for a moment, making me think he is uncomfortable. In the next moment he motions as if he is about to grab my hand, to cause direct skin to skin contact. But he simply adjusts on the bed, folding his hands across his chest and continues to talk about the jocks in our school.

The comfortable air and his aura, even throughthe layer of clothes, has me in an extremely pleasant disposition as we discuss our school, the games, the food and whatnot. Neal has a lot of in-news about some of the people in my group, the 'popular' bunch as Neal says. He even reveals the details about the whole Ananya-Duato case. Some information comes out as quite a shock to me.

Neal is talking without restrains. I suppose we are past the stage where he has to warn me about not disclosing to other people whatever we discuss. It's already understood that some things we discuss are not to be revealed to other people.

Despite dark circles forming under Neal's eyes, we manage to talk till pretty late this first night. I am sure he didn't sleep last night and even today through the day he has been up while I slept. I don't fret on it. We're going to be in this room for the next ten days, without anything to do. He can sleep as much as he wants in the coming days.

We get to do a lot more than just sleep in the coming days. Apparently, Neal likes to engage in games of poker and chess with random strangers that gather up in the evenings on the deck. He is definitely more social than me. He talks and jokes with other people, while I sit beside him and laugh with others. I should be more outgoing and extroverting, he says. When I express my desire to remain in my comfort zone, Neal gives me a dry look but lets me be.

We also make a habit of hanging around the deck more often; just watching the passing shoreline and 'enjoying nature'. We usually end up walking about during nights, before sleep time. It is less crowded, and the both of us get to talk without reservation. Being out in the open is better for my health, Neal says. But my health has not been a hassle past the first day. I do get drowsy after my dose, but most of the times I succeed in evading deep, endless slumbers.

The matter of my arm is a different thing. Rough and quick movements are still not the liberties I enjoy. Neal has strictly commanded that my bandages be changed every two days. I don't have a problem with that, considering Neal is the one who will have to change the bandages.

The first time I am anxious as I worry over how ugly my burn injuries would be. Neal also looks positively terrified as he settles my arm firmly over the edge of the bed and makes me sit on the floor motionlessly.

"Stay still." Neal says again, removing my old bandages, a frown permanent on his face.

"I am still."

"Don't talk. It'll make you move."

I roll my eyes, but let Neal do his job. The injuries are, surprisingly, not very severe looking. But it is enough a sight to make me cringe. The skin is uneven, whitish-pink, with red vein like scars that crisscross, like a web. On top of it, my arm is swollen red. At least it's not absolutely grotesque, thankfully. But it is equally easy to make out that this is my under skin. My top, tanned epidermis of the skin is in the making. Neal heaves a huge sigh of relief when it's over.

"I know that I am not opting for medical as my major." He grumbles.

That actually makes me question on his choice of subject for college. Mass communication, I should have known. In the following days, it takes me by further surprise when Neal continues to express what activities he wants to perform once we are back in Latvia. He is awfully optimistic that we'll return back. But he is equally worried about returning as well.

He doesn't want our return to be very late. He is much desiring to wrap up this unfortunate event of our lives and be back at school as soon as possible. He wants to make up for the missing days of school work and finish his last year at school in peace. He sounds undeniably morose and depressive when he reveals that he absolutely under no circumstances wants to repeat another year.

A nerd's honor is at stake, I suppose.

At some point, we even start discussing our recent fight. This time the topic is talked upon with nonchalance, with no hurt or guilty feelings on anyone's part. I get something to make fun of when I resolutely point out how uncharacteristic it is of Neal to feel hurt, even over something this substantial.

"I wasn't hurt." Neal is quick to reply, "I was just severely ticked off."

"Whatever floats your boat." I mutter.

"Well, stop looking over your pointed finger, and see that three are aiming right back at you. Your actions weren't exactly in conformation with your character either." He bites sarcastically.

I know he is talking of the kiss and so I am quick to divert the talk, red faced. But not before 'advising' Neal to inform me of his mindset beforehand, instead of imploding like a fusion bomb in one go. He mutters something about sounding like a girl and starts talking about his favorite soccer team. Soccer distracts me easily.

All in all, our days on the cruise are spent in relative pleasantness. A pleasantness, which heightens in the mornings when I wake up and find myself in contact with Neal, some way or the other. Our top and tail position provides us plenty space on the small bed, but we still end up physically touching. And though the contact is usually through the sheets we have atop, it still brightens my day. And since all of my inhibitions regarding physical touch with my partner have drowned, I find myself looking forward to when we sit together, side by side, my arm and shoulder brushing his and continue to talk of the most irrelevant topics.

The subjects of our topics are sometimes relevant too. Like now when I am narrating the whole Jermaine-Mikhail issue to Neal upon his inquisition. Unlike to Aakir, I tell every detail to Neal. I don't know what makes me do so; but I just find it inappropriate to not have him informed of the whole issue. I also explain the origins of the scimitar. Basically everything that Neal has missed post his abduction.

Neal has been exceptionally astonished to learn of Jermaine's hatred towards the Lichinskys. He finds it difficult to believe that someone like Jermaine can be as vicious as I am narrating. I don't know the reason behind Neal's positivity towards Jermaine, but his likeness towards Jermaine has me on edge as I explain the whole scenario to him.

Neal sits in utter shocked silence, his face pale and his eyes bulging at the news. In all honesty, I don't expect him to be this astonished. That naturally makes me question his deer-caught-in-headlights expressions.

Neal clears his throat at my question, trying to calm his stance, "It's just shocking to learn that it was your grandfather who killed Jermaine's family."

"He didn't kill them." I say warily, "He exiled them."

"Which led to their death." Neal sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Do you know that those flames are not normal fire?"

I hesitatingly nod, "The Nganasans said something about them being 'dark flames'. Or 'dark magic', something like that. I don't exactly remember. I don't know the significance or what it actually means. I have never had to deal with anything weirder than Aakir's freaky eyes till a few days back."

"You're quite ignorant of your world."

"Blame my father. I didn't ask to live in ignorance."

"You think your father knows about the flames?"

I hesitate, "I don't know." I honestly say. I frown at him, "How do you know about the flames?"

"I lived amidst them for two weeks." He says dryly. "Even the gravity seems to be funny in the core of the flames. Do you know that that place shows an aurora?"

I look at him, surprised, "I have never seen an aurora. And I think an aurora borealis may be quite frequent this North."

Neal shrugs, "I suppose. And I have never seen an aurora too. I didn't even see this one."

I frown at him, "Then how do you know that the night shows an aurora?"

"The flames." Neal says, "It was too hot. The light above got reflected as a mirage over the surface of the flames. I asked Jermaine about the weird red-purple lights that shine in the distance, and he told me that the night shines with such colors."

"Red and purple? Those are quite rare for a borealis."

He nods, "But the way Jermaine explained the lights, it can only be an aurora. I think...earth's magnetism plays a huge role in that place. As I said, the gravity felt different. It affected the flames too, making them feel much different than normal fire. It-"

"Different how?" I ask.

Neal hesitates, "I don't know how to explain. It held no heat for me. I didn't feel warm in its vicinity. One would expect the place to be utter warm because of fire, but it was much colder in the core of those flames. Though, I was pretty sure that if I step onto the flames, they'll cause pyrolysis of my body. Even my therian repelling powers were not enough to overcome it. I required the scimitar to pass through."

"I still don't understand why they are called 'dark' flames."

Neal shrugs again, "Those flames don't seem to act as a natural source of energy. Maybe that's why."

"Those erupt from a volcano, for Christ's sake. What's not natural about it?"

"The volcano's dead. Yeah, the flames originated from there, most probably. But they don't hold any connection with it anymore."

"How do you know that?"

Neal hesitates, "Jermaine kept me updated about what's in my surroundings."

I am mute at that observation for a moment, then I resume, "So, they are not being sustained by a volcano."

"Exactly."

"Maybe earth's geomagnetic fields are causing that effect?"

Neal shakes his head, "That'll pretty much make the flames natural, don't you think? If the magnetic field caused any effect then it was on my bodily functions, if I have any say in it." He grunts.

"Why?" I ask, curious.

He sighs heavily, "Because apparently my body's physiology stopped working normally. Only my heart was beating, and I could breathe and blink and talk. And yeah, think. I could think."

My frown deepens, "I...I don't understand." I stutter.

"It was weird." Neal muttered. I could see he is reluctant to talk about it. I contemplate suggesting that we don't talk about it. But Neal begins before I can say anything. I shut up immediately, slightly pleased that he is willing to talk even through his discomfort. "I didn't feel the urge to sleep...or to eat. I suppose my metabolism had largely declined. I didn't feel the need to use the toilet or to take a bath. Despite sitting in one place for two weeks, I felt none of my muscles getting stiff. Even my hair wasn't much dirty when we left."

I take a whole minute to take in that news. Neal looks nervous, for whatever reason, as he waits for me to say something. I don't know what shows on my face, but whatever it is it makes Neal avert his eyes every few seconds or so.

"T-that's....creepy." I manage to get out.

Neal sighs, confusing me by looking relieved, "Hmm." He hums, "I suppose."

I clear my throat, "The witch was keeping you bound. Maybe she put some 'magic' to cause those things too?"

Neal hums again, "It's a possibility."

"And maybe witch's power is what brings about the effects on the flames as well."

Here Neal disagrees, "The occultist actually required the flames to possess those weird qualities. That was her main source of energy, the main pool from which she derived her energy."

My brow crinkles, "No." I say. "The witch can derive energy for sustenance from anything."

Neal rolls his eyes, "From what I could gather, she survived on dark energy from those dark flames."

I shake my head, "The books don't say anything like that."

"I know." He says, sounding exasperated. "And I would have probably agreed with you had I not witnessed the living of the Occultist on my own."

"How can you be so certain? I am sure she didn't 'eat' energy like a proper meal in front of you."

"Jermaine told me."

I feel my left eye twitch at that. I refrain from commenting something snarky. Our days on the ship by far are going smoothly. We may playfully banter, but we haven't gotten into a serious fight since the 'kiss' talk. These few days are turning out to be one of the best days for me since a very long time. I don't want to break the spell and instigate an argument. But it's becoming increasingly hard for me to tolerate the compassion Neal is displaying for Jermaine.

"You don't like Jermaine." Neal says quietly.

My silence and expression must be making Neal declare that verdict. I don't disagree, letting my disapproval flow by smoothly through his observation.

"He wanted to kill me and dad. He didn't give me any reason to like him." I say.

Neal runs a hand down his face, "Jermaine was insane."

"Exactly."

"No, he really was insane. He talked gibberish most of the time. He used to be absolutely terrified mostly."

"Well, he aimed at terrifying us. He didn't seem much terrified himself."

"Because he is angry. The thing I heard the most from him was his choler against the leader of his realm, which as you just told me was Mikhail during his time. You cannot imagine how badly he would just break down when talking of his ill-fated family. The other thing he spoke in harsh whispers was about his fear due to the Occultist.

"He kept saying that his anger and fear, or any other negative emotion is what fuels the flame. And that is what the Occultist strives upon; and the more she absorbed energy from those fueled flames, the more those flames extracted energy from Jermaine. He did seem screwed in the mind, but his theory didn't seem too farfetched. He always made sure to never remain near the flames much. He'd remain beside me for very short time and then he'll just go to remain at the outer periphery, slightly away from the flames. I cannot imagine someone being that terrified without reason."

"Are you expecting me to forget that he wanted to kill me and feel sympathetic towards him?" Neal opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off again, "Alright, I do feel bad that he lost his family under such unfortunate circumstances. And I do find Mikhail in the wrong for wrongly convicting him and his family. Mikhail feels utter regret over his decision; and though that doesn't necessarily get him rid of the guilt's burden, still I don't support Jermaine's idea of revenge. His anger, I understand. His sorrow, I double understand. His urge to blindly take revenge by killing me? Nope, I don't have the mind to be understanding towards such a thought."

"He had once said something about the Occultist encouraging him."

"What?" I look at him in shock.

Neal hesitates at my bearish tone. Gauging my reaction carefully, he continues, "He had mentioned it in passing once...that the occultist thrives on his vengeance, that she expects him to do 'it'. I hadn't paid much attention to that thought till now."

That has me pondering. I recall my father's words as he was narrating the two times Jermaine had attacked them. The first time, Jermaine had daringly attacked in front of the Occultist itself. And yet, the Occultist had done nothing.

"The Occultist had stood as a spectator when Jermaine had attacked my father the first time. Even I was shocked when dad told me that she had not taken any measures to curb the incident. Not even afterwards."

"...Hmm. That's rich....the occultist having a grudge against your family." Neal mutters.

I look at him, confounded by the revelation, "But, w-why?"

Neal blinks for a few moments, maintaining eye contact with me. He begins slowly, "The occultist...seemed very keen...when she caught sight of the scimitar in my hands."

I blink at him in return.

"Jermaine was being controlled by someone when he stole the sword from your granddad, right?" Neal asks.

Still blinking, I nod at him.

"What happens when the owner of the scimitar dies?" he asks next.

My heart pounds wildly in my chest at the disclosure. It may not be true, but it seems like the most plausible theory.

"It's very bizarre that an occultist will go to such extents to get a sword." I say in a monotone.

"A sword that can kill other Occultists, and protect the owner as well." Neal corrects. He sighs when I don't respond. "Alright....so, the First Occultist is a greedy bitch who wants her claws in me. The Third Witch lives in resentment because of her torn piece which is the scimitar now. And the Ninth Occultist just basically wanted all to herself, be it the scimitar, the vaticinator, to be the sole ruler...whatnot...I am glad we got rid of the Ninth Occultist first."

Despite myself, I smirk.

"From what I am learning of the Occultists," I say, " I won't be surprised if every witch turns out to be equally greedy at your or the sword's sight. It's like wagging a piece of bone in front of dogs."

Apparently, my comment is enough hilarious to make Neal laugh loudly. He doesn't even heed the fact that I just called him a bone.

Bone...funny word.

I shake myself of the distracting thoughts. Neal and I digress from this topic, finding it too overbearing for our relaxed minds at the present. The rest of the time, we try our best to remain clear of tensed topics. Our desire to stay away from such negativity should be understandable, considering we're already moving towards a dooming world. So, we laugh, playfully fight, gossip literally like girls and laugh some more. I am depressed when it's our last day on the cruise. But Neal doesn't let his hopes die.

"Last day to jest, Lichinsky. Don't prove me right to think of you as fool by letting the opportunity go."

So, I don't let it go. We laugh again and talk again. I express regret over my still swollen and broken arm, as Neal expresses joy that my rest of the wounds are gone. But come tomorrow, thoughts of my sore arm escape my mind. Getting off at the Krasnoyarsk port, I take in the beauty of the Yenisei River.

Who knows? Maybe that's the last beautiful thing that I will see with my eyes.

  27. A Lullaby By A Dreadful Night

Neal and I are silent as we sit in the back seat of the cab.

Neal is sitting calmly, our bag in his lap, his hands lying limp upon the straps. He is staring out of the window, blinking at the intermittent street lights that shine in the darkened sky. He looks calm, almost serene. I usually don't prefer a quiet Neal, and this situation comes no different in that respect. But looking at how steady and unruffled he looks, almost in peace; I swallow down the million conversation starters stilling at the tip of my tongue. I am nervous, to say the least. I don't want to rub off my anxiousness on him by spilling my worrisome thoughts.

So, I settle on fidgeting.

That turns out to be extremely annoying because my right arm is still in a sling. So I end up moving my left hand about the space, sometimes tapping my feet, other times straightening the t-shirt I am wearing. The majority of times I turn my head towards the left side and watch Neal observing the lights outside. Seeing him this calm makes me more skittish.

I scratch my pant leg, biting my inner cheek; wondering what on earth are we doing going back to the mansion? I wish we could continue our journey on the cruise forever; even though I don't really like ships. But anything is better than what we are moving towards. Anything will be better than the vacillating fate that awaits us. Anything-

Neal moves his right hand from the bag and wraps it around my fidgeting left wrist. He is still looking outside, hardly acknowledging his movements. I don't get to ponder over it though. Instantly calmness washes over me, accompanying the ever exultant feelings. My mind turning to mush, I let my hand fall limp in Neal's and lean my head back, resting it on the back of the seat. The time passes quickly after that. Too quickly than I would like.

Neal's aura is almost lulling me to sleep when we reach the gates of the Head Realm's colony. He nudges me, silently encouraging that I get off the cab. He lets go of my hand and climbs out. I follow suit. As Neal pays to the cab driver, I warily look around the dark street in the distance. There is hardly anybody out. That is understandable, considering its already past ten at night.

If Neal is correct about the Occultist visiting the Realm at midnight then we have less than couple of hours to be ready for the showdown. Though there is nothing to get 'ready' for. The only thing that I'll be facing in these two hours will be scalding berating frommy father. He will not be happy about our presence. Mikhail will only contribute to the rebuke. He may be even more obvious about his anger than father.

Now Neal's hands are busy holding the bag and paying the cab driver, away from me; therefore these negative thoughts flow in a rush. Again, I wonder why we are here. I have a strong feeling that I shouldn't be here; that my decision to agree with Neal is going to be a mistake. But I keep my mouth shut as we walk to the gates. Neal takes out the entry card and swipes it through the card holder. The gates cling as they open up.

"Calm down, Lichinsky." Neal says monotonously as we start walking, "It's going to be fine."

I quietly sigh in disappointment that he is settling on comforting me with words than physical contact. I don't say anything. I instead start rubbing the back of my neck as we decrease the distance between us and the mansion. From the corner of my eyes I notice Neal glancing at me with narrowed eyes. But he doesn't say anything either.

It's strange that the whole street leading up to the mansion is sequestered. I sense some therians and humans in the houses we pass by, but no one is out. That is a little strange. This whole colony is fenced up and considered one of the safest places in Krasnoyarsk. People taking night walks in this area is not rare because of the sense of security. But I see no one as we follow down the road.For all I know, people are ensuring to remain locked up in their houses. I cannot help but blamethe appointment with the Occultists tonight for that.

As we approach the towering gates of the mansion, that's when I sense three therians in close vicinity. Of course the therians sense us too. I sense them marching with great speed towards the gates that we're approaching.

"Incoming." I whisper, warning Neal.

Neal heavily sighs.

Three wide eyed therians reach the gates in haste and take in mine and Neal's appearance. I have seen the two of them before as guards here. The third therian is however unfamiliar. We casually walk, ignoring the stupefied expressions on the therians. Neal, looking absolutely calm, moves forward to swipe the card in the card holder so the gates will open. That is it for the therians. They bolt.

They hastily move inwards, towards the mansion. The unknown therian runs for the stairs. The others start raising alarm. I will be laughing if I'm not so petrified myself.

"The vaticinators' here!" They shout loudly.

I can't help but feel slightly embarrassed at their panicked reaction.

Neal glances at me, eyebrows raised and smirking. He is finding this amusing. His amusement vanishes when a much larger number of therians start piling in the driveway. They flood out through the door of the mansion and climb down the stairs, stopping quite a distance away from Neal and I. Incessant quiet, but urgent, chatter is bursting through the crowd as they gather in the driveway.

My steps falter as completely unfamiliar faces come in view. I quickly do a mental math and conclude that there are about twenty five to thirty unfamiliar therians here. I feel a twinge of apprehension as nobody from the Ninth Realm comes out. Frowning, I warily scout the dubious looking mass of therians that's moving out. Most of them settle at gawking at Neal with awe.

My steps completely pause on their own accord when I see a familiar face. But it is not the face that I have been anticipating – considering this face doesn't belong to the Ninth Realm at all.

"...Now this is a surprise." Says Ethan, smirking humorlessly and moving out of the horde of therains that have gathered.

Completely stunned, I get rooted to the place. Neal is unaffected. He continues to move forward. When he notices me lagging behind, he slows down and extends his hand, wrapping it around my wrist. The action takes me by surprise. But I don't get time to respond. Neal starts moving again, dragging me along.

Ethan stops when he notices Neal approaching his direction, unafraid and unaffected. It's at that time the Ninth Realm council members start moving out. Pleve is the first to move out, followed by Anastasia and the rest. They shove the therians who are standing as spectators and come to stand right behind Ethan.

"It's a very good thing you've turned up on your own." Pleve growls as soon as he gets the chance, "Not that your early appearance is going to get you in good graces. You have some guts-"

"Get out of our way." Neal interrupts, his tone calm.

Ethan, who is standing in the front, blinks at the underlying command in Neal's sentence. Pleve bristles in the background, as the rest remain mute. I myself stare at him astounded. This is so not the time to act antagonistically against these mongrels. I gently tug at Neal's hand, but he doesn't spare me any attention.

"Move." Neal says again, stepping up to Ethan.

"You watch your tone." Ethan says quietly, his voice cold. "Vaticinator or not, you've no entitlement to order us around."

"Don't I?" Neal boringly replies, "Step aside." He repeats.

I don't know what's gotten into Neal that he is challenging them so openly. All I know is that it has heat crawling up my neck, reaching up to my ears. Even the serenity offered by Neal's hold is failing at curbing my awkwardness. This is probably more embarrassing than those therians shouting about Neal's return.

"I'll step aside." Ethan replies in the same cold tone, "Maybe it'll be better if we sit inside. After all, we do need to quetch you for your actions. To tell you how insufferable you're to kill one of our rulers. And even inform you of the unfortunate fate that you'll be facing because of it. And let's not forget about your partner's fate, who has been helping you. So, yes, we should-"

"That's quite better, no doubt about that." Neal interrupts again. He looks bored out of his mind as he looks around the shocked faces. "But from what I have decided," he looks at Ethan, "that's not what's going to happen. And if you want to keep that big head of yours on top of your body, you better step aside right now."

Ethan glares at Neal, his eyes wide. He looks indignant, but standing so close I can see the flicker of doubt passing in his eyes.

"Are you threatening us?" Pleve snaps, stepping closer behind Ethan, "You kill our occultist and then you show up on our door with big words!"

"First of all," Neal casually adjusts his hold on my wrist, "you have no proof that I killed your occultist. So, keep your words in check. And second of all," Neal checks the time on his wrist watch, "If you don't want to face something really unfortunate, you should step aside within three minutes."

Again, shadows of doubt falls on the faces in front of us. But they also continue to glare at my partner who returns his own challenging stare.

"You heard the boy." A thundering vice sounds from the top of the stairs.

Everyone turns to see Mikhail Lichinsky standing at the edge of the stairs. Father is standing beside him. Through my shocked stance, I manage to feel slight reprieve at their sight. Both of them look stoic, making it difficult for me to interpret their take at mine and Neal's sudden appearance.

Pleve glares at Mikhail from the bottom of the stairs. His face becomes an abnormal red color as he starts shouting, "You have no right to act the boss of us! You pretentious fucks!"

"Actually, we do." Neal replies, as calm as ever. He checks his watch again, "Two minutes." He says monotonously.

Ethan steps aside. He has taken on an expressionless mask, settling at only coldly staring at Neal. Pleve looks at Ethan as if he is insane.

"These are criminals!" Pleve shouts, he looks around at everyone, stressing his glance at Ethan. The latter is still glaring at Neal. Pleve turns towards us, "I won't let you walk by like you own this place! You are to be kept as a prisoners till our Occultists come. They'll serve you right!"

"One minute." Neal continues in a monotone, now boringly gazing at Pleve.

"Let him come by, Pleve." Mikhail's thundering voice comes again, "As much as I hate your guts, I still don't want them to be spilled out on the front porch."

"And we will attend the meeting with your Occultists." Neal adds, drawling out the words 'meeting' and 'your'. "There'd be no point for you to lose an organ." Neal lazily glances at his watch again, "Half a minute."

Pleve bristles, his face going from red to purple. I cannot believe he is still settling on seething at us. I have to give it to his determination.

"Let him go." Ethan says quietly, his voice cold and hard. "He will pay for it either way."

Somehow, Ethan saying that calms Pleve somewhat. Still looking highly indignant and glaring at us, he steps aside and stands behind Ethan. He makes his disgust for us known by glowering at us. Ethan's antagonism is subtle as he coldly stares. His gaze doesn't even flicker away from Neal. The rest watch on in shocked silence as the scene unfolds.

Sighing quietly, Neal starts walking through the aisle that forms. He drags me along with him. We climb the stairs, the eyes of all of therians burning holes in us as we move. We reach the top. Father simply nods at us, giving nothing away. Mikhail is however staring past us, at the crowd of therians huddled at the foot of the stairs of the porch. I am in no doubt that his eyes are trained at Pleve and Ethan.

Neal turns around, a look of sudden realization crossing his face as if he forgot to say something, "Oh, and," he begins, looking at Pleve and Ethan, "Just so you guys know, I am aware of what is going to happen. The only thing you should be aware of is to make sure to keep out of our way. Else....well, else you'll see for yourself what I have kept in store for you guys."

"You bastard." Pleve snaps, glaring and panting as if he cannot wait to punch Neal in the face. Well, he most probably cannot. "You little fuck, you think you can threaten us!"

"Keep saying that." Neal replies calmly, "You're only provoking me more."

The threat is not lost on anyone. Pleve bristles some more, spewing profanities under his breath, but intelligently doesn't say anything else.

Mikhail loudly suspires, gaining some attention, "We'll be there at the meeting when the Occultists come." His voice is firm, loud and authoritative. Even Pleve shuts up and listens, wide eyed. "Till then we'll be in my room and I don't want interruptions or objections-"

"I object!" Pleve thunders, "You people are incriminated! You don't have the liberty of a free man right at this moment!"

"Sorry, I didn't catch that?" Neal mocks. That does make Pleve bristle some more, but it also effectively shuts him up.

"I am afraid I agree with Dr. Pleve here." Anastasia speaks from the crowd. "According to the rules, Neal and Josh have to remain under surveillance till the visitation by the Occultists."

"My grandson and his partner have returned home after three weeks." Mikhail says, "I am quite sure a couple of hours with their family in privacy are not going to jeopardize the rules of this Realm."

"Or I can just make you guys agree." Neal says, nonchalantly glancing at Pleve and Anastasia, "Choice is yours."

Anastasia fumbles at the not so subtle threat. She glances at Pleve from the corner of her eyes. The latter is hatefully glaring at us.

A tense silent moment stretches. It is broken by Mikhail as he says in a shockingly gentle tone, "I promise our presence in front of the Occultists. You have my word. All I ask is some private time with my family."

Anastasia hesitates, glancing around at her peers. Pleve continues to glare.

Surprising us, Ethan is the one who speaks, "Let them be." He says, "You better keep your word, Mikhail. We don't want to encounter unnecessary treacherous schemes."

"You won't encounter anything..." Mikhail begins, glancing at Neal once, "till you keep out of our way. All I ensure you is our presence during the meeting. Rest, just like Neal, I'll advice you to keep out."

Ethan looks like he is going to say something, but he settles on coldly glaring at us, his eyes lingering on Neal for a far longer time than I would like.

"Come on." Mikhail mutters, turning and going back inside. Taking in the faces of the therians on the bottom of the stairs, Father, Neal and I turn and follow Mikhail. Once inside, Neal lets go of my hand. The gravity of the situation that just unfolded dawns on me as his hold vanishes. I remain quiet, stunned as I follow them. Shakily, I run my left hand through my hair.

This is not the way I had wanted things to go. The last thing I want is for anyone to be against Neal. Even with the murder of our Occultist on his head, I had been hoping for clemency. Hoping that by some miracle, the people of this Realm will stand by us against the Occultists. My optimism has no roots. But Neal's dauntless show has given a total one-eighty degrees turn to my expectations. His actions stunned me so much that I couldn't even think of countering Neal; to stop the audacious tirade.

I accusingly look at my left hand, wondering if I am going to be mute and incapable every time Neal holds my hand. I turn sideways, glancing at Neal who is walking beside me. Did he hold my hand to comfort me? Ease my worrisome thoughts? Or he held my hand knowing that it'll forbid me to form any quick reaction to his actions?

But most of all, had he really gone ahead and envisaged the future, on the basis of which he threatened everyone? Had he really done it, despite my constant insecurities about him using his abilities?

I find my stare turning into a glare as we walk. Neal senses my gaze and turns towards me.

"What?" he says quietly.

I loudly breathe out, "Did you-"

"No." Neal interrupts sternly.

"You-"

"Don't." he interrupts again.

"Let me complete." I snap.

"Let us reach the room first." Mikhail grunts in front of us.

I huff, giving up and following our elders. Neal stares impassively at me for a moment before following us upstairs. Once we reach the room, Mikhail quickly ushers us in and locks the door behind him. I do a check, concentrating to sense any therian aura apart from us. But I don't sense anyone. Most of the therians must be downstairs, out of earshot.

"Alright." Mikhail sighs, looking at us. Father has stepped sideways, running a hand down his stoic face. He doesn't look at any of us. Before Mikhail can speak and order us around, I start speaking myself.

Turning to Neal, I give him a harsh glare, "You made this up?"

Neal looks anxious as he takes in my bearish tone. But he resolutely stands, licking his lips to speak the following words, "No. I didn't."

"You just-"

"I didn't make this up, alright?"Neal cuts me off. "I needed a leverage above those guys and-"

"And you thought you'll get that by scaring them by something that-"

"-They don't know how my foretelling works!"

"That doesn't mean that you start using your status for your benefit!" I snap.

"Why the hell not?" Neal exasperatedly says, "I am done with your insecurities, Lichinsky. I will-"

"-It's for your benefit that I am 'insecure'! Are you seriously kidding me? After all I have told you-"

"I didn't make that up." He quips.

"-Then stop making all of them think that you have!"

"Okay. Enough." Father interrupts, keeping a retraining hand on my shoulder. I hadn't even realized that I had started taking steps towards Neal. Neal is still in his place, glaring at me.

"Lichinsky," Neal begins, sighing and running a hand through his hair, "If I hadn't made them think that I know what's going to happen, we wouldn't be standing here. They would be instead keeping us on a leash."

"That's right." Mikhail grumbles from his position. He had been silently observing the exchange till then. "Acting like you know the future was the smart choice after coming here. It's the coming here part that doesn't seem very smart."

"How the hell antagonizing those men was a smart choice?" I say to Mikhail. "The last thing I want is for everyone to look at him wearily, as if he is a monster." I wave my hand towards Neal. "If god forbid, we do end up needing a helping hand at the end of the day, none of those people are going to provide that hand of help. Not when Neal has so openly threatened them; so openly displayed what he can do with his power. And it's not just about now. If we escape this situation, then also we have almost no comrades, thanks to him." I glare at Neal.

"You're saying as if they were going to be real friendly if I hadn't done that." Neal says, blindly waving his hand towards the outside of the mansion.

"At least there would have been a benefit of doubt." I say. "But now, not even that-"

"-Lichinsky, I really don't think they would have listened to anything we had to say in that case. They would have bound us, kept us under their eyes and literally offered us to the occultists by their own hands." He exasperatedly explains.

"What's the big deal?" I snap, "You said that facing the occultists is inevitable, so I agreed with you and came here this early. Now I'll pick the same argument and ask, what was the need to make everyone deride you when we're going to face the occultist anyways?"

"The need to keep those therians out of the way." Neal points out, frustratingly.

"Those-"

"He is right, Josh." Mikhail calmly interrupts me.

"Stop being biased." I snap at him.

Mikhail's calm stance hardens as he glares at me, "Watch your tongue." He angrily says, making my anger falter, "Stop acting like a brat and look at the facts. Neal's right. If they think we're vulnerable, then they will keep you bound and under surveillance. They will escort you to the Occultist like a fugitive and let go only when the Occultists have empowered you. At least without the involvement by the therians,you will be physically free till in front of the occultists."

"Just to be bound again once in front of them." I point out morosely.

"Not if I have the scimitar." Neal points out.

I feel a vein painfully throbbing in my skull, "Stop being heroic; it's going to bite you in the ass!" I yell.

"Boy, you piss me off." Mikhail grunts, "Get your head straight for a moment."

"It's straight, alright. Your explanations make no sense to me."

"Lichinsky," Neal says, gritting his teeth, "You do not understand our explanations."

"I would if they made sense."

Mikhail clenches his teeth, probably thinking of ways to strangle me. He exchanges a glance with an exasperated Neal. Neal sighs and turns towards me.

"I don't want to get into an argument, okay?" he says quietly.

"Yeah," I snap, "Because you're going to lose if you get into one."

"Stop." Father'svoice echoes suddenly. We all turn to see him standing a little sideways, his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes are closed. "Just stop for a moment. Everyone."

"You ask your boy to shut up. He apparently doesn't understand the phrase 'forget the spilled milkand save for the future'." Mikhail grumbles, walking towards the windows and peeking outside.

Father gives him a dry look before turning towards Neal, "Have you conjured up anything in the future?"

I feel annoyed at the hope in my father's voice. And I am going to be seriously pissed if Neal has envisaged something. I just want to go in front of the Occultists, appeal to them and hope for a sane decision in return. I absolutely don't want a situation that will blatantly display Neal's prowess and put him in a vulnerable spot later on.

Neal looks at me upon my father's question. A moment later, he turns to father, "No." he says quietly.

"You're lying." I say. My voice is quiet and distant. I am unsure over my emotions at the present. I don't know if I should feel rage at Neal making something up or hurt that he is so openly lying in front of me about it.

Neal says nothing at the accusation. I walk towards the chair near the table. With frustration echoing in my every step, I finally slump on the chair. My thoughts are so messed up that I cannot possibly explain them in words. A number of things are going through my mind and all of them are pointing at the negativity ensuing.

The most notable being the fact that Neal and I are fighting, something that we hadn't done in the past ten days. Secondly, I have been assured in my mind that there are no secrets between us, but Neal has been keeping a lot of things from me – be it his plan to make the therians think that he has an upper hand or the fact that he has actually build an event of the future. I am saddened to realize that he doesn't consider it important for me to be aware of his plans. And thirdly, the most dangerous development is the antagonism of everyone who is outside this room. I am scared to see that things aren't going the way I wanted them; instead they have gone haywire with my partner stuck in the center.

It feels eerie to realize we are this close to the ultimatum; this close to the end. I don't want to see it this early. I want to procrastinate participating in this event the same way I used to procrastinate doing my homework back in Latvia. But Neal's not a procrastinator. He used to be punctual with his homework, a trait common to nerds worldwide, and even in this real life situation he is making sure to not dillydally around.

But I never wanted this. I have come here, but reluctantly. I never wanted to agree with Neal to travel back here. I never wanted-

I freeze on that thought, facing an epiphany.

I look at Neal who is waiting for my father to question him further. But I don't allow my father to speak.

"Did I come here out of my own volition?" I ask aloud.

Neal snaps his head at me, blankly staring at me at the question. Even father and Mikhail have paused, eyeing between Neal and I as the question hangs in the air. Neal looks at Mikhail once and then at my father before turning back towards me.

He looks at me, almost sadly, "No." he says quietly, sighing.

This is probably the last straw for me, to know that Neal has forcibly made me come here without informing me.

I say nothing, letting the silence extend.

"Alright," Father breaks the silence, glancing from Neal to me. "I'm glad to know that the decision to come here is not of my son's. Because it really is very stupid to be here, Neal."

"Stop ganging up on me." Neal groans.

"Yes," Mikhail says, walking and sitting in the chair next to me. "Let's stop accusing one another and think about what to do now. And since you seemed to have planned out a few things," he says to Neal, "what are you planning next?"

Neal sighs, "Nothing." He mumbles.

"Pardon?"

Neal hesitates, "I guess...it'd be better if I have the scimitar in my hands."

"That's your plan?" Mikhail questions, "To kill twelve occultists with one sword?"

Neal scowls at the floor, "I couldn't sustain my astral form when I projected; therefore...I couldn't bring about any major altercations. But to have the sword with me would be a start; since we are not sure if it'll be useful in any of your hands."

"You had enough time to make Josh agree with you to come here, but not enough time to just get rid of the witches?" Father muses, looking at Neal blankly.

Neal gives a dry look, "It doesn't work that way. I cannot simply will for someone to stop existing or make them die just like that. It's the situation that I can alter; it's the decisions of the people involved that I can alter and that is what will ultimately bring effect on the people involved. And like I just said, I couldn't sustain my astral form long enough to accomplish any of that."

"You made everyone outside think that you can blow their insides with one thought." Father points out, his face stoic.

"Because they don't know how this thing of mine works." Neal continues in the same dry tone. "It's better they keep thinking that I am capable of blowing their insides with one thought." He pauses, "Where is Aakir?"

"You're not projecting with his help and changing anything." I monotonously say, my voice quiet.

My quiet tone is enough threatening that Neal actually starts to look weary at my response. "I wasn't meaning to...." he says, "I was just asking where he is."

"He is in one of the chambers downstairs." Father reveals. "Two people, one council member and one guard are a constant with him." Father heavily sighs, rubbing his forehead, "He has been given permission to sleep only once in three days, that also for only a few hours, and frankly, I am worried about his health. I don't know what fate he is going to face, but I am counting on you to distract the occultists from him." He says to Neal.

My jaw automatically clenches at that, but I say nothing.

"...I think I can do that." Neal quietly replies, looking thoughtful.

Slightly vague conversation flows; incoherent mumbling really, as if none of us know what is appropriate to speak now. Once in a while, father would try to make Neal reveal anything else that he may have conjured. But Neal denies; and though his reply is firm, his slight reluctance convinces me otherwise. I don't know why he is lying, considering I have caught him once. But this time I don't interfere, so Neal remains resolute with his response.

The tension is high and despite us projecting calmness, the worrisome thoughts are blatantly residing in everyone's mind. I don't say anything and my silence becomes noticeable by the second. Especially when Neal keeps glancing at me, as if checking if I am going to suddenly blow at him and when Father notices that Neal's not really into whatever conversation they have lifted, he starts giving me the stares too. Mikhail notices the ever-growing tensed atmosphere and gets up from his chair, loudly clearing his throat.

"We should check up on what's going on downstairs." He says, looking at father. "And also check on Aakir meanwhile."

Father simply nods solemnly. He looks at Neal, "I'll get the scimitar."

Neal nods to my father, giving me a quick glance. Father catches the exchange and turns to look in my direction as well. He quietly sighs, "What's done is done."

"Yes." Mikhail adds, walking towards the doorwithout glancing at us, "Square things out. We don't need you two quipping with the Occultists there."

With that, he efficiently walks out, followed by my silent father. Neal awkwardly shuffles on his feet, glancing at me every so often. I just watch him, expressionlessly, as I know there is a lot to be said between us. Neal becomes fidgety, roving his eyes about the room and then catching my eye. He minutely flinches and averts his eyes to something else again. When the silence becomes so long that even I start feeling awkward with simply looking at him, Neal sighs. He looks back at the shut door of Mikhail's room and turns back at me.

"I'll say sorry but that will probably make me a hypocrite-"

"No shit." I interrupt.

"-but," Neal continues, unaffected, "you wouldn't have ever agreed to come back here. It wasn't righteous of me to change your will, but-"

"It wasn't righteous of you to develop anything in the future."

"-but," Neal stresses again, indicating that I don't interrupt, "I rather be done with the issue than thrive in anxiety."

"You'd rather be impetuous than take a sane decision with a rested mind."

Neal heaves a huge sigh and takes a moment to respond, "I don't regret my decision to come here and I am not sorry for it. And I really, really do not want to fight over this." He says with a tone of finality.

We stare at each other for another extended moment. Then I avert my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose as I sense an unwanted headache coming on. When I look back up, Neal is standing in the same position; observing me.

"Is this," I eye him sternly, "some sort of revenge because of the kiss?"

Neal's lips part in surprise and it takes a microsecond for his face to express indignant surprise, "What?" he snaps in a much louder voice than we were previously using, "No." he firmly says.

I wait a moment and then rephrase my question, "Is this because....because I made you drink the repellant against your will?"

This time it probably takes less than a microsecond to wretch a reaction out of Neal. But this time the reaction is far surprising as well. Neal's face turns bright pink at my question. More astonishing is that the blossoming of his cheeks is accompanied by unexpected bashfulness, as if I have said something to cause great embarrassment to him.

"No." he says quietly, firmly, his eyes averted. "And...I don't consider those two things separately."

Great, now I am blushing. We may have cleared our differences regarding this whole 'repellant drinking/kissing' issue, but none of us have bothered to focus entirely on the 'kiss' part of that whole issue. Granted, the two things are inseparable as the kiss was used to force the repellant down his throat.But it was a kiss nonetheless, even though the repellant is what the major fight was upon. Neal is right to not separately consider the kiss or give it any weightage; because the result of that kiss has been the main event; the kiss itself held no importance per se.

But in my mind, the two things are as separate as day and night. And both have been equally important.

The realization that I am giving too much thought to the 'kiss' part of the whole issue deepens my blush.

Gosh, this whole issue has diverted my mind from the main topic that was on the horizon.

"Sorry." I mutter, averting my eyes. I don't know if Neal will even begin to understand what I am apologizing for. It has come to my notice that out of the two of us I tend to make big deal out of smallest of issues which ends up resulting in the awkward air like the one at the present. In my defense, I have been severely brain washed by Evan, who had been insistent in persuading me to just accept my apparent gayness only because I have a guy for a partner.

"I punched you." Neal blurts, making me look at his pink tinted face. He clears his throat and begins in a much calmer tone, "I punched you for...that. So, I guess, we got even at that point. I didn't...I am not doing this as some kind of a rebel against you or anything."

I nod slowly, "Okay...good." I mumble.

"Good..." Neal echoes, "We are good?" he hesitatingly confirms.

"No." I say, rolling my eyes and looking somewhere else. The awkward topic of our kiss may have subjugated my intense anger to the point that I may not shout at him right at this moment as I had been planning. But that doesn't mean that I am going to ignore Neal's impulsive decisions and his ignorance to have me informed of them.

"So...we're going to fight?"

Unintentionally, my lips quirk into a half smile at his innocent question. I end up sighing, my anger deflated because of other distracting thoughts.

"Neal, I just want to clear out one thing." I speak up, my voice calm, "And I don't care how girly that makes me sound, but I seriously don't appreciate it when you keep things from me."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, I know. I get it."

I hesitate. "Cool." I mutter eventually.

For a few seconds, both of us awkwardly look about us with our lips sealed.

"So," Neal clears his throat, "I had a favor to ask."

...I really don't like the tone he has used.

"Yeah?" my tone comes out dry.

"Don't look weary...I just need you to trust me on this one."

"...Right."

Neal gives me a dry look but then reforms his stance and begins anew, "Don't interfere during the meeting with the occultists."

"What are you planning?" is my instant my reaction. I have made out that he has not revealed everything about what he has conjured up and I am quite certain that lack of my involvement during the proceedings is one of the requisitions for things to go the way Neal wants them to go.

Neal shrugs, his lying 'posture' switched on. Don't even ask me how I can guess if he is lying or is about to lie.

"What?" I stress when Neal doesn't reply. My tone reflects my annoyance.

Neal huffs a breath as if he was already expecting my reaction. He looks at me for a while and then quietly utters the word which would soon become his patented weapon against me.

"Please."

I loudly sigh, not hiding my annoyance at his request. He knows he has me trapped.

"Why can't you just tell me?" I snort.

"Just...trust me, okay?" he says, raising his hands in front of him to emphasize his exasperation.

I don't get to reply to him. My mind gets distracted by therian auras advancing towards this room. I get up, startling Neal. But I ignore him and walk towards the door just in time for it bang open. I take a step back in surprise, but my lips twitch into a smile when I see its Aakir. Only problem is, Aakir doesn't seem very happy.

"Fuck, are you guys dumb?!" Aakir snaps angrily, marching inside, past me.

"Hello to you too." Neal responds dryly.

"Seriously, guys. What the fuck? You are not supposed to be here." He says, glaring from Neal to me.

"Hey," I raise my good arm as a mocking gesture for peace, "I am not the one with the brains."

"Wow, thanks, Lichinsky." Neal retorts.

"Okay," father, who enters behind Aakir, says, "Calm down everyone. Remember, what's done is done. Stop fighting over it." With that, he walks towards Neal and hands over the scabbard to him. Neal gingerly holds the weapon, looking utterly unsure.

Aakir jumps from his one foot to another, still glaring at us, "But, seriously guys?" he starts again, "What the-"

"Aakir." Father interrupts, his voice stern.

Aakir immediately shuts up. Thankfully it seems he won't be reprimanding us more. Not in front of father and Mikhail at least. A few moments pass. Mikhail travels to the windows and looks outside at the darkness. Aakir subtly tries to abuse me, glaring and cursing in hush whispers so father won't hear. I roll my eyes at him and point at Neal every time. Father, ignoring the two of us, begins to talk with Neal quietly. With Aakir distracting me, the only things I can grasp is father's reassurance to have Neal's back if things go astray. Neal is nodding to him, beginning to look much anxious as the moments are going by.

A heavy silence falls as we sense therian auras approaching the room we're in. Neal, the only one out of us who can't sense auras, looks around at us with a confused expression. Father silently points at the scabbard in Neal's hand. Getting the hint, Neal looks around before settling to hide the sword on a chair hidden behind the table. Father walks towards the door to open it while I give Neal a pointed look. Neal narrows his eyes at me before rolling them away.

"The flame has announced the arrival of our Occultists." An unknown man says in thick Russian accent to my father as soon as the door is opened wide.

"What?" Neal blurts in the distance. Hastily, he checks his watch.

"Alright. We'll be there." Father, ignoring Neal, nods to the man. The man gives not so subtle glances at the rest of us inside before turning away and departing with the other man he had come with.

There is an explosive silence as father stands beside the door he has just closed. Neal is the one to break it in his panicky voice.

"Are they gone?" he asks father, referring to the therians.

Father nods at him, probably focusing on how jittery Neal looks all of a sudden. Involuntarily, my stomach tightens uncomfortably at his anxious stance.

"They're here too early." Neal blurts again, checking his watch. "It's only eleven thirty!"

"...Yes." Father says with a pause as if he cannot guess what has Neal panicking all of a sudden.

"Is there a time constraint?" Mikhail asks quietly from his position beside the window.

"Yes." Neal stresses, turning to him.

"Why?" I ask.

Neal gives me an exasperated look, wordlessly complaining about my constant inquisition. He turns back at Mikhail.

"Isn't there a way to delay it?" Neal asks.

Mikhail steps forward, looking exceptionally grim. "It..." he begins, "..It usually takes up to ten minutes for the occultists to appear after the flame. The flame is just a warning bell so all the pupils get gathered together before their arrival. So...technically you have around ten minutes."

"Can those ten turn to thirty?"

Mikhail blankly stares at him, "You need midnight?"

"I would not know what to do before it." Neal admits, fidgeting.

Mikhail looks at father, past Neal. Neal looks from one to another as the silent conversation flows.

Father sighs after a while, "You intend to make the Occultists wait?" he says in a tone that screams disbelief.

"I don't think being on time is going to put us in their good graces. How does it matter?"

"Not being in their even bad graces?" father tries. "Also, we gave Ethan our word that we will not forsake the meeting."

"We're not forsaking the meeting. We're just delaying it." Mikhail points out.

Father hesitates but then runs a hand down his face in defeat. "Alright. Improvisation it is then, is it?" he asks Mikhail.

"Let's discuss that one on the field." Mikhail says, walking forward towards the exit and motioning for father to follow him much to bewilderment.

"You guys are leaving?" I ask, surprised.

Mikhail doesn't answer as he starts opening the door. Father sighs and turns towards me, "So is Aakir." He responds.

"Oh." Aakir says beside me.

"And Neal and I are to...to just sit here?" I ask, flabbergasted.

"Boy, you amaze me." Mikhail grunts while stepping out. He turns back, "There's a small creek at the other side of the locality. A sequestered creek at this point of time if I have to take a wild guess." He looks at the table behind which the chair containing the sword rests. "If you guys are clever enough to come here so boldly then you should be clever enough to remain unscathed for another half hour."

Without another word, Mikhail and Father leave with Aakir scurrying after them after giving us uncertain looks.

I feel my hands trembling as Neal and I are left behind. This is, is so screwed up, I am having difficulties in digesting what is occurring anymore. Neal walks over to the sword as I silently fume. He takes me by surprise when he comes to me and hands over the scabbard.

"I think this is meant for you for the time being." He says.

Slightly shaking (I don't even know the trigger behind my sudden paranoia), I hold the scabbard in my good hand. Uncertain, I look at Neal, "What?" I drawl, "So, my aura is now masked with this scimitar, but so what? Is it going to make the both of us invisible as we climb down the stairs and out of the gates of the mansion to that creek? A creek? For god's sake."

Neal sighs, stepping back and walking towards the windows. "I don't think that's the million dollar question." He mutters while stepping up to the panoramic window which, now that I notice, is wide open. Wasn't it closed when Mikhail stood behind it? As Neal runs his hand on the side of the frame of the huge window, that's when I realize that Mikhail, unsuspected, must have opened this window before leaving. And with that revelation, it dawns on me how we're supposed to move out of here without coming in front of prying eyes.

Neal turns towards me, his hand uncertain on the edges of the frame, but his face is surprisingly marked with annoyance. A big contrast to the panic of just a few seconds ago. "The million dollar question is that how in the world your grandfather believes that a non-therian and a therian with a broken arm can jump down a second storey window unscathed."

I sigh. A million dollar question indeed.

  28. The Finale

Never in my wildest dream could I have guessed that Neal is acrophobic.

Now he walks by my side, hiding the lingering spots of the panic attack that he just underwent. He is ridiculously embarrassed, I can sense it. I don't blame him. I will crawl under the blankets too if someone witnesses me as terrified to the point of unable to walk.

The twenty feet drop hadn't been a hassle to me, even with my one arm in a sling. The vines creeping up and down the walls contributed greatly towards my more than easy journey towards solid ground. It should have been a cake walk for Neal. But his acrophobia decided to make itself known. Ten, almost fifteen minutes were spent with me hissing from the ground, persuading Neal to take the leap of faith while he continued to tremble at the window, his eyes turning glossy. Pushed by our unfortunate predicament, Neal gathered enough courage to climb down the vines. Only to be grasped in the clutches of a vicious panic attack when he looked up at the height he just dropped from. God knows how I managed to drag him towards the creek.

Somehowthrough a series of 'calm down's', 'count to ten's' and 'how many fingers do I have?'s', I manage to make Neal breathe a little steadily. He has been silent since. Even now as after several minutes we make our way back towards the backyard where the Occultists must be awaiting us, he is as silent as the night tonight.

The silence doesn't last for long though. As we near the backyard, the harsh sound of people arguing reaches my ears. There are too many people talking, making it difficult for me to discern the voices. I faintly make out the steadily growing voices of my father and Ethan. By the time I start sensing their auras, more people start talking. They have also obviously sensed our auras as we walk. Once we enter the backyard there are abrasive conversations going with many faces glaring at our entry. I heave a heavy sigh and hand over the sword to Neal who grasps it silently.

"Where the hell were both of you?" Ethan, who had been deadly calm the last time I saw him, looks absolutely livid now as he stares at us past Mikhail's shoulders.

"They're tricksters!" Pleve shouts, his face red, from beside Ethan, "Thinking of us as idiots!"

I feel Neal rolling his eyes beside me. But very little of my attention is spared on these people. My gaze is fixed at the far end of the field, a site totally sequestered save for the eight figures standing in a row. They look so surreal, ghost like statues standing in a line. They have an eerie air about them which even at this distance I can feel. Though the distance between the Occultists and the therians is not much, still the Occultists seem to be far, far away, probably because no therian is in their immediate vicinity. They stand, their faces stoic with their tattered, worn out dresses subtly blowing in the almost nonexistent wind tonight. All possess the same outward appearance; tall, skinny, wrinkly with scarce white hair flowing down their shoulders. Some even have blistering bruises on their skin, which only seems to make them look far more deadlier being than any of those present tonight. None of the explanations of my elders or Neal's have done justice to how the Occultists actually look.

And all of them failed to mention the irrepressible auras the Occultist exude. The funny thing is that I cannot categorize that aura. I'm not even sure if I am 'sensing' it. The hazy hue around the forms of the witches is enough a deadly site to make me cringe away from even coming in closure with it. It is an equally intriguing sight because that hazy hue surrounds the occultists as if they all are one single being. With that revelation I recall my early curious years where I had learned a thing or two about our Occultists. And how I had expressed awe on the information of the occultists sprouting from a single energy source. In theory, all the occultists are a single entity. No wonder it took no significant time for the whole clan to know about the death of one of their sisters. A body is bound to howl in pain if the leg is ripped over.

"I have a demand." Neal says. His voice shakes me out of my reverie. Neal stands a step ahead of me. A few feet ahead of us are the self-proclaimed leaders of the anti-Lichinsky clan. Ethan has Vincent, his partner, standing right behind him with Pleve along with the other council members and some unknown people flanking them.

"A demand?" Ethan says as if it's a joke. "You have a demand?"

Neal shrugs, "You sound surprised."

Ethan's jaw clenches at that. "What are you doing, vaticinator?" he sneers, stepping forward, "What are you trying to do? Riling us up by coming in late and then trying to play games with your words? Our occultists are not waiting there patiently so you can carry out your mischiefs. They are waiting you for to make one, just one, deadly mistake, Neal. That's all it's going to take. So end this game and tell me. What are you doing?"

"One deadly mistake." Neal says monotonously as he steps forward too. I watch in astonishment as he raises the scimitar, the sharp end of the sword pointed at Ethan's chest which is only a few inches away. It is painfully obvious that Neal is trying the offence. "That's what I am doing. Because your occultists are going to give me hell either ways."

"So, that's your plan?" Ethan snaps, steeping forward again, the tip of sword now almost touching his chest. "To slaughter everyone?"

My muscles lock in place as I watch Ethan's movement like a hawk. He is a therian. Neal may not even realize when that sword would be out of his hands. For a quick moment my eyes dart sideways where father, Mikhail and Aakir stand. They are also mute, but they stand with rigid stances. Alert, but not interfering. Observing, but not controlling.

To my relief, Neal steps back. He doesn't lower the scimitar. When he reaches my side I see him smiling at our opposition. Ethan hardly looks amused. As a matter of fact, neither do I. I honestly cannot grasp what is so funny for Neal to be smiling.

"You should know," Neal begins, "that if I were to do that...I can absolutely do that. And your fugly witches won't be able to do shit about it."

Several people gasp at Neal's 'blasphemy'. Hushed murmurs flow through the crowd, all expressing their shock and disapproval at Neal's words. Many glance at the witches wearily, expecting them to snap Neal's neck like a brittle stick.

Ethan is stoic as he stares at Neal. With maintained passiveness, he speaks to Neal, "You speak too much."

"I speak too honestly." Neal corrects, "But we digress," he disregards Ethan and steps sideways. He looks at me once before facing forward again...looking straight at the occultists in the distance. "As I said I have a demand."

Neal's request is greeted with silence as everyone glances hesitatingly at the witches in the distance. But the occultists make no move, utter no word and yet all of their undivided attention seems to be focused on Neal as he takes a further step in their direction. When no one speaks, Neal continues, "I demand...that all the members of the Lichinsky family be allowed to leave the premises of this therian colony with no harm."

Murmurs get louder and harsher with a lot of accusing stares coming our way. I look sideways to find father and Mikhail standing stoically, while Aakir seems to be the only one who looks appalled at the proposition, irrespective of it being granted or not. Good thing too. At least someone shares my sentiments.

"No." I speak firmly when I see none of my elders stepping in to stop Neal.

Neal's shoulders twitch as if he is itching to turn back and slug me in the jaw. But he doesn't turn around, allowing me to take in his tense shoulders and his delightful ignorance of me having spoken anything.

"You let the Lichinskys go and I'll accompany you to wherever you want." Neal says again in a much louder tone to the occultists.

"I said No." I snap, equally loud. "Even if they allow us to go, I am not leaving."

"If," Ethan mutters amongst the loud whispers around us. He looks at Neal disdainfully, "Yes, If." He stresses.

Ignoring Ethan, I step forward, "Neal-"

And three things happen at once. I feel, rather see, father stepping forward from my peripheral view. His stance appears as if he plans to stop me. At the same moment I hear Neal mutter a muffled 'Fuck off Lichinsky' under his breath, without turning around. The third thing prevents me from grasping whatever happens in the immediate moments. Instantly a heavy weight drops on my back; so heavy that it drives me to my knees. Hardly a grunt leaves my lips before the pressure on my back doubles and the next thing I know, I am falling face first on the grass, landing solidly on my injured arm.

This time I grunt much louder.

"Josh!" I hear father's voice right beside me.

"Fuck." I rasp out, blinding pain overtaking my arm and shooting up my shoulder. "Fuck."

"Does that meet your demands, Vaticinator." I hear Pleve's mocking voice.

I tilt my head a little sideways, panting as I struggle to breath. Father is crouched beside me, squeezing my good shoulder in comfort. My position on the ground prevents me from tilting my head further...unless I wanted to snap my neck. The painin my right side is enough to water my eyes and convince me to remain put on the ground, only harsh whimpers escaping me as the weight becomes unbearable. Father's position grants me one explanation and that the weight on top of me is the occultist's doing. If it were something else, my father won't be just sitting there and squeezing my shoulder.

"Let go of Josh." I hear Mikhail's voice and though his voice sounds passive, I can actually sense how strained it is. "I request a normal hearing; none of us will attempt to escape. Please, we would-"

"Look at that." Ethan's voice interrupts, "Demands change too fast, don't they Neal? What? No more demands? Petrified to the spot now that your partner is suffering for your demands?"

Father's presence left my side in an instant. Startled voices and distinct growling convince me that my father has stupidly driven himself onto the enemy's territory.

"I have had enough of you, Ethan." I hear father say.

"What you going to do, Nikolai?" Ethan seethes back, "Punch me in the face before you're on your stomach just like your son?"

A growl resounds followed by the noise of slugs. Through blinding pain, I manage to sense the sudden commotion. People shout, many cursing as the sounds of fists and claws echo in the air. Thumping of feet increases around me and a few voices confirm that even Aakir, most probably still in his human form, has also stepped in to support my father.

"Stop." I hear Neal's faint voice. His already quiet voice is drowned by the loud yapping of therians around.

I hear a loud grunt and with difficulty I manage to tilt my head sideways to grasp what little I can of the action. I am greeted by the site of therians, fluxed in their half animal forms. Mikhail and Vincent seem to be verbally seething at each other as opposed to my father who seems to have gotten most of the action. Until now that is. Now he is on his knees, his hands pressed to his sides. Ethan towers above him, his fluxed canines glinting in the night as his claws tighten around my father's neck. Aakir has a defensive position nearby, but seeing as father's movement has been restricted, yet again by our Occultists, Aakir seems to be reconsidering the offensive moves.

"Maybe I should just rip your head off, Nikolai. The occultists don't seem like they would mind." Ethan sneers.

"Stop." I hear Neal's voice again.

"Fuck you, Ethan." Father responds.

Ethan grasps father's hair, forcing his neck backwards, "Don't tempt me to snap your neck."

"Stop!"

This time Neal's voice is loud enough to quieten most of the frenzied therians. I try to tilt my head to look at him but only manage a glimpse of his sneakers before I give up, gasping for breath.

"What are you doing?" I hear Ethan snap, probably at Neal.

"Let them go or I'm going to shove this through my chest." I hear Neal say. His words make me try a little harder to tilt my head. This time I manage to catch a blurry glimpse of him standing far away, facing the occultist indicating that he has spoken to the witches than Ethan. Both of his hands are outstretched, grasping the end of the scimitar, with it sharp pointy end resting in the center of his chest.

"Fuck." I rasp out as I fail to hold my tilted head to catch more of his sight.

"I said, let them go." Neal says again.

There is a beat of heavy silence with only gasps from father and I. But something, something happens because the next thing I know there are coinciding horrific shouts throughout the therians gathered around.

Through the haze of pain, I try to elevate my dour mood by mentally convincing myself that Neal is not impetuous enough to actually shove the sword through his chest.

But as the invisible weight at my back lifts, I realize in relief and horror that Neal must have actually gone with it. Other than that, I cannot think of any other leverage than the vaticinator's life to outdo the Occultists.

"Let them go." I hear Neal's strained voice. With my body's free movement, I manage to properly tilt my head up, still gasping and mentally curse at the blood stain starting to form in the center of Neal's sweatshirt. He is speaking to the occultists.

"Neal," I breathlessly rasp out, cradling my arm that is hurting like nobody's business. My call falls on deaf ears. In the next instant, my father, a little out of breath himself, but otherwise fine, comes and tries to help me to my feet.

I hear Ethan release a sharp laugh, "You think so highly of yourself, Neal. You should-"

"Shut the fuck up. No one's talking to you." Neal snaps.

Ethan's face turns beat red with anger assuring me that he isn't usually roughly brushed off.

Neal ignores him and to my horror starts walking towards the Occultists. I try to follow on wobbly legs but father grips me firmly, murmuring a quiet 'No'.

"I demand that the Lichinskys leave." Neal says in a louder voice, moving closer to the witches. "You stop them and you'll have no vaticinator to have all this fuss over." He threatens.

One of the witches, the one in the center glides forward. Her movement is so sudden and fluid that most of the people go still, holding their breaths.

"The vaticinator's audacity is repugnant. Vaticinator's request may not be fulfilled. He shall be condemned for his atrocious conduct. He shall be sanctioned."

Everyone remains petrified, even Neal, at hearing the Occultist's voice. It is not her words as much as it is her voice that has caused every single being to be lapidified with terror. It is somewhere between a screech and an authoritative spell, making it sound all the more malevolent. The words spoken could just be the cherry on the top.

"R-right." Neal replies, his voice wavering at the intimidating display of the witch yet retaining some of his resilience. Rest of us, we are rooted to ground, petrified. I can't even think of a word let alone speak one, so I'll say kudos to Neal. "I suppose..." Neal continues, making audible gulping noises yet firmly glaring at the advancing witch, "For y-you to sanction me, it actually requ-requires you to control me. And those chances look pretty slim to me." his voice grows firmer by the end.

"Vaticinator is a mere servant." The occultist screeches again, gliding forward with occultist previously standing next to her following her steps. "You bring dishonor by abandoning your duties. You cause imbalance by your sinister deeds. You have-"

"That's all peachy." Neal interrupts making my stomach churn in discomfort. Other Occultists start following the one that stepped out; all of them advancing at Neal. Neal having gained his confidence has little reservations while insulting the threatening witches. It's horrific because the ominous air created by the occultists seems to have swallowed everyone's voice and movements save for Neal. He stands poised, the scimitar firmly gripped in his hand, his feet set a little apart for balance as if he is preparing for fight. "But," Neal continues, "You're forgetting the point where I don't give a shit."

A wind swirls in the night as the occultist in the lead visibly bristles at being insulted. Their aura vibrates, humming in their anger. Still as statue, I watch agape as the one of the occultist starts blurring, her aura reverberating before her form turns onto mist, flowing like ripples of water towards the one in the lead. The Occultist's form wavers as she absorbs the aura and physical form of her sister, making the air around them ripple with intensity.

Through astonishment I manage to sense Ethan taking a step back at the unpredicted outcome of events.

"What's..." he speaks, his voice low, vibrating with fear, "What's happening to them?" he whispers to no one in particular.

Mikhail, as opposed to Ethan, takes a step forward, his eyes hardly swaying from the sight in front of us, "Pissed..." he says, his voice low but firm, "They're getting pissed is what's happening to them."

I can't agree more as one by one the Occultist vaporize and blend in with occultist in the front. She grows bigger, her aura expanding as if she would combust at any moment. Her glares at Neal hardly waver as she moves in his direction, nor does Neal's stance for that matter.

Mikhail turns around, glancing at Ethan and the other anti-lichinsky clan members, "Clear the ground." He says authoritatively.

Ethan is quick to agree, surprisingly nodding at that. The agreement makes me turn around to notice that many therains have already escaped, terrified of what is coming. Many are in the process of fleeing while the argumentative ones watch on in astonishment.

"What about Neal?" I blurt, confused as we all start to take miniscule steps backward.

Father has a firm grip on my good arm, as if he wants to ensure that I do not go barging in at the commotion happening right in front of us. And I am not; I have no plans, not with me writhing and gasping in pain already with the Occultists scaring the shit out of me. But that does not mean I am fine with the idea of Neal remaining behind alone.

Father doesn't answer me.

"What about Neal?" I ask again, stressful this time.

Mikhail quickly turns around and starts walking towards us. "He is doing what he planned. Let it not be for naught and get going."

"He is causing this," Ethan says, his arm being tugged by a tensed Vincent as more people start stepping back. "Neal is causing this. The Occultists are right. He causes imbalance. He-"

"The Occultists are joining forces because prowess of one alone is insufficient to disarm him." Father snaps at Ethan.

My head was literally spinning at that. I do not hear Ethan's comeback initiating another one of their banters. I instead focus on how the wind has increasingly picked up space, causing our hair to blow. How the wind seems to be circling the enhancing form of the Occultists as the last of them fuses in. Most of all, my focus is trained on my partner whose hands are now shaking, the scimitar wobbling in his hands. And with horror I realize that father is correct. The force of all the Occultists combined is overpowering the force behind Neal's and the sword's inherent power.

I feel father tug at my arm but I shrug him off. I hear him sternly calling my name but I ignore him. The least, the very least I can do is not run away and be beside my partner for what he is doing. He knew this would conspire. Hell, for all I know he willed this to happen, willed for those ugly witches to combine their forms and power. So he could do what? Buy us time so we can flee, sacrificing himself for our survival? Is that what Neal would do?

Or he willed them to combine themselves so he could ram that sword easily through all of them at once?

He knew that the request for the Lichinsky family members to leave would rile up the Occultists enough. It of course would if the theory of the witches being against my scimitar owning family is even remotely true.

"Neal doesn't want us to leave." I state firmly, shrugging off my father's hold again and walking towards Neal. Walking causes pain up to my shoulders but I ignore it as I move forward. I hear my family call me from behind. A very flimsy move on their part because it distracts Neal. He turns for a millisecond, taking in my sight, advancing towards him. His forehead is covered in sweat beads forming due to the strength he has to put to keep the scimitar firm in his grip. When he catches my eye, his eyebrows crawl for his hairline and the motion seems to express amusement than surprise. But that is short lived. A high pitched shriek fills the empty night, like claws on chalkboard. A burst of power explodes out of the giant form of all of the Occultists. Neal, already distracted, stumbles at the sudden onslaught. His grip on the scimitar loosens, causing it to lurch out of his hands. Neal maneuvers himself to stumble in the direction of where the sword seems to be falling. The Occultist burst forward, looming over Neal as he fumbles to grasp the sword.

"No." I whisper in horror as I increase my pace towards them.

Another shriek fills the air, combining with the calls of my family from behind. Neal seems overpowered as the Occultist scream in his face. I start running, not knowing what my presence would bring but not wanting Neal to be alone in this nonetheless. And through the haze of all the chaos, the thought of my partner's aura fills my mind. The irrepressible, gigantic aura of the Occultist is swallowing even Neal's potent aura. I cannot sense it past the witches. And when a metallic glint swings from the ground next to Neal and shoves right through where the legs of the Occultists must be, I find myself oddly wishing to be able to sense his aura.

Because as shrieks get louder, getting painful, the occultists seems to realize what just happened. Just for that microsecond the twisted, rippling and grimacing face of the Occultists was worth it all. But the next moment, the wind gets sucked in through the gaping hole near their legs, the air stilling around us. The deafening silence lasts for a miniscule moment before the Occultists combust. They implode, their forms disintegrating. A strong pulse of their explosion bursts out. Ten times stronger than the implosion of a single occultist. Nothing comes in the grasp of my senses as I get lifted off my feet by the force of it. Nothing, except for that one tiny moment mid-air, just before I hit the ground and lose consciousness. The one moment of my semi-conscious mind that is certain that it's Neal's aura which would have been hundred times more worth than the painful grimace of those dying Occultists. If only.

  29. Back in Time

There are a lot of things I dislike in life. And I do not just mean the massive, significant things like the Occultists. I mean the trivial things. Like how I absolutely despise dirty surroundings. I can't sleep until the sheets are squeaky clean. In fact, I can't sleep till I am squeaky clean. Other things to make to that list would be bullies, like Viktor and his minions. A word out of their mouth is enough to make my skin crawl. Similarly, I hate it when I am kept from certain things, like a whiny kid who is pissed on not being in on the secret. I dislike unwanted attention, fake facades and lady gaga. Hell, I hate the taste of anything not cooked by my mother. I dislike humid weather. I dislike not being exceptionally good at sparring. I dislike romantic movies and clingy people. And I dislike disappointing my father.

I can think hundreds of more things to add to that list. As I will grow up, that list is only going to lengthen. I will begin to dislike my tight college schedule and the hefty hangovers. I will start disliking staying away from my family. I'll start hating my job; my boss even more. I'll start hating that I cannot afford the car that I so love, and hate it even more if I can afford it because I like to run. Even more, I'll hate when I'll continue to hide my therian nature from the human friends I'll make. The list will go on and on. Maybe I'll even start detesting things that are tolerable to me now.

There is only and only one thing that I am absolutely sure I'll never feel animosity towards.

"That's creepy." I hear Neal's voice from somewhere above me.

I sleepily grunt, snuggling to the touch of Neal. From what I can feel, he is sitting right next to me as I snuggle even closer to his side. There is fabric of his clothes between our skin but that doesn't stop his aura from overwhelming my senses. I can feel waves of his aura surpassing the fabric, humming into my senses through his side that my face is snuggled into, his thigh where my chest brushes it and his legs that I have taken the liberty to tangle mine with.

Slowly coming out of oblivion I realize that Neal is referring to me snuggling him as creepy. I pull my head back, opening and squinting my eyes against the light in the room. I have to tilt my head to look at Neal's face as he is sitting. He has ignored me after his comment. He is calmly sitting, very calmly considering a guy is literally hauling him in sleep. He has a book in hand that he seems to be reading. From my side I can see a bust at the corner of his lips that is visible to me and also the spectacles that are resting on his nose.

"Why are you wearing glasses?" I say, my voice hoarse from sleep.

Neal raises his eyebrows as he looks at me as if he wasn't expecting me to wake up. He looks down at me, tilting his face sideways and takes in my sleepy and curiosity filled face. He forcefully sighs.

"Well," he says, adjusting the book in his lap, "I thought its time I put a cherry on top of my nerd status."

I roll my eyes. I let my head slump back against Neal's side. He doesn't complain. He doesn't even detangle his legs from mine. I quietly sigh, waiting for myself to fully waken up. I revel in his aura till then, side by side wondering about his busted lip.

Busted lip.

It takes me all of three seconds to get up into a sitting position, which is quite long considering my therian reflexes. When I look at the reason for my slowness; directly at my right arm which is in a firm cast, all the events come rushing back to me. I turn to look at Neal who is now watching me with his eyebrows raised above the thick frame of his glasses.

I instantly frown when I notice his eyes.

"Your eyes are rimmed red." I blurt.

"Yeah, well." That's all he says.

I observe his eyes. Apart from being red rimmed, there is a noticeable swelling to them too. The angry veins stand out around his brown eyes as if he hasn't slept a wink in days. The sharp reddish-pink glow to his conjunctiva suggests that he should be resting his eyes rather than reading.

"What happened?" I ask. I take a moment to look around and notice we are in our allotted room inside the mansion. The light is turned on in the room and judging from the view of the window, its evening right now. "What day it is?"

Neal sighs, closing his book. "It's just the next day." He calmly informs me.

Just the next day. Just the next day of an occultist-free world. We actually did it. Or Neal did it, whatever. For that split second moment out there on the field, I was certain we're doomed.

"I can't believe it." I express my awe and as much as I am disappointed to be rid of Neal's touch, I feel obliged to climb out of bed. I detangle my legs from his and pull the sheets back. Climbing out of bed, instantly I stretch my muscles while I sense a lingering dull ache. Nothing too significant.

"What happened to your eyes?" I ask after a while, still comprehending that we are over this. Done.

Neal shrugs, cautiously watching me, "I was too near them. And I felt obliged to watch them detonating with my eyes wide open."

"Is that permanent?" I ask for his glasses, now concerned.

Neal shrugs again, "I don't think so..." he says, unsure.

"What do you mean 'I don't think so'?

"It means I don't think so. My vision is not altered. I just feel strain."

"Maybe you shouldn't read."

"Maybe you should fuck off."

I roll my eyes, but a smile lingers on my face. It feels so liberating to quip without the burden of occultists on our head. I walk to stand by the nearby showcase, just to get the blood flowing in my legs. I turn to rest my hip against it and catch Neal watching me. I raise my eyebrow in question.

"You seem very calm." He comments.

"Should there be a reason for me to be tensed?"

Neal heavily breathes out at that, tossing the book aside and crossing his arms across his chest, "The First and Ninth realm members wanted to convict."

"What the fuck?"

"I told them I'll will them to combust just like their witches."

I laugh, but sober up quickly.

"You know..." I begin, "You could have told us what you had planned."

Neal makes an extra show of distressingly sighing, "I knew you'll pick it up to yap at me."

I stare at him, hardly amused.

"Well," Neal says when I don't even blink an eye, "I don't consider Ethan dumb. I was just being precautious in case he had a spiritual therian tailing us." He offers.

His explanation seems valid so I cut him some slack. "Okay...so where is Ethan? And the rest of those snobs?"

"Upstairs."

"Upstairs? I thought the first realm people would be gone with their tails between their legs."

"Yeah, they would be. It has just been a little...busy since yesterday. A lot of people got injured. The elders from both the realms have been attending to people. They did suggest incriminating us, or me, for the event, but as I said it took a little threat here, a little glare there and we're cool."

"Eh, sounds good enough. When are we going back?"

Neal smirks, "Take a breather. You just got up. You have a fractured arm and your dad and granddad are busy verbally fending off the idiots. Go take a bath or something. I'm going to text Aakir that you're up." He adds, bending over to pick up his cell phone from the tabouret.

"Where is Aakir?" I ask, moving to pick out my clothes. Now that he mentions, I feel an overwhelming urge to take a bath.

"In his room. Talking to Silvia half the time. He is being annoying." Neal mutters, busy on the phone. Unlike his words, his tone actually expresses playfulness.

This is good, I ponder while walking up to the adjoining bathroom. My sarcastic partner in his full form jabbing at my overzealous brother for his obsession with his partner, while my father fends off the annoying adults. This is familiar and normal and everything opposite of what I dislike.

Pausing at the door of the bathroom I turn around to find Neal's nose buried back in his book. He has propped up his knees, the book resting against his thighs and the sheets bunching at his feet. He is wearing one of his loose t-shirts and equally baggy sweatpants. There are faint scratch marks here and there on his arm. And of course there's the busted lip (I'll take care to enquire about that one) and his stinging eyes. Despite it all, Neal seems to be practically glowing as if a huge burden has been lifted off his shoulder, which probably has. He is relaxed, back in his own skin. And it doesn't pass by my notice that it's just not Neal who is breathing freely now. We all are, thanks to him.

"Neal?" I call out to him, standing at the doorway.

He doesn't lift his head but merely moves his eyes up so they meet mine from above his spectacles. The movement is oddly geeky and it makes me chuckle internally.

"Thanks." I tell him in the utmost serious tone that I can muster.

His eyebrows fly high, a movement very familiar to me. It is usually associated with his amusement, but this time he looks serious and surprisingly bashful as he lowers his eyes to his book and mutters a faint, "Yeah...okay."

I smile, always amused when Neal exhibits shyness. I leave him be and depart for a shower.

Later, Aakir and I are climbing the stairs, both jesting like there is no tomorrow. The joy of surviving a dooming fate. I wish to speak to father, to enquire about our departure. My arm may be in a cast, but I feel absolutely healthy and as far as I can tell nobody seems to be seriously injured enough to delay leaving this ominous place. We encounter no one on our way to the first floor, surprisingly. I quickly sense two auras, one characteristically of my father, as we reach Mikhail's room. We knock twice, grinning and enter.

Father is on the laptop at the small dining table. He smiles at Aakir and I. Mikhail however is lying down on the bed, his head propped up high enough on two pillows. His legs are outstretched and his hands are resting on his stomach. It's an odd sight. Mikhail relaxing? I never could have imagined.

"Where is Neal?" is the first thing he grunts, frowning at us.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Nice to see you again too, grandfather.

"Downstairs, in our room." I reply, "He wanted to stay put."

"You stupid boys." Mikhail mutters, getting up to sit on the bed. "Aakir, go and babysit that boy. Don't leave him alone," he says to the two of us, "You're not in friendly territory yet."

Aakir shrugs, "I'll go then." He readily agrees, not even questioning why he and not I was asked to go to Neal. Probably because they have had plenty of time to chit chat while I was unconscious.

"How is your arm, Josh?" father asks.

"It doesn't hurt." I tell him, "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as I can book the tickets." He replies.

"With fake visas?"

"With fake visas." He doesn't even blink an eye. He does sigh and get up, closing the lid of his laptop, "I'm going to be in the library. The internet doesn't seem to be working here."

"Uh.." I say awkwardly. If he is leaving then I have no reason to stay in the room. But he doesn't instantly leave. He stands in front of me, his laptop tucked under his arm.

"And I am very glad we're done with this fiasco. In future though, I would really appreciate if you tell me things you consider significant, no matter your defenses. Had you informed me of Neal's aura from the beginning, we probably may not have landed here."

I feel my face going red with embarrassment, but father merely brushes it off. He steps closer, enclosing his free hand around my neck, a gesture so affectionate that I get momentarily stunned.

"And you handled this whole situation with exceptional maturity, Josh. I am very proud of you. And of your partner." He adds.

His words, the words I had been longing to hear, make me feel giddy while managing to make my face heat up to dangerous levels. I mutter a quiet 'thanks'. Father just affectionately rubs my shoulder before moving past me and out of the room.

Still red in the face, my eyes meet Mikhail's who had been watching us intently. Wow, talk about awkward.

"Uh," I say, "I am going to go then...just, uh-"

"Sit down, Josh."

His tone reminds me of the first time I had talked to him in this very room. The day Jermaine had attacked us. It seems like a distant memory now. Mikhail's voice though has the same effect on me and within seconds I am seated on one of chairs around the table.

Mikhail gets up from the bed and goes to his cupboard. I sit there awkwardly as he fumbles inside. He retrieves the familiar scabbard that I have come to know as the carrier of the scimitar. Mikhail carries the sword towards me. He picks a chair, placing it in front of me before sitting on it. The action vaguely reminds me of the same thing he had done at our first meeting.

"Your father returned this to me, claiming to not be the right person who possesses it. I agree with him. And we also agreed that this should be your property henceforth."

"Eh..." I stammer at the unexpected news. "But why?"

"Because its time you realize your own responsibilities. And if there is anyone that will be requiring this, it'd be you."

"Actually...don't you think it'll be Neal?" I ask sheepishly.

"Not at all. The only thing he required the sword was for to get rid of the Occultists. With the Occultists out of the picture, Neal has his own aura as his defense weapon. The one consorting with him is who requires this. Having the vaticinator as your partner is no joke. You should always be too prepared. The Occultists are not the only scary things out there."

"You sound optimistic." I mutter.

"You don't get the liberty to be optimistic, Josh."

"You should be giving something of this substantial value to father, not me." I grumble.

"Your father doesn't have the vaticinator as his partner." He replies dryly. "Besides you're a grown man. Its time you stopped looking up to your father for every damned thing."

"I do not!"

"Sure." He rolls his eyes. "Keep this. Keep it safe and use it wisely."

I sigh and take the sword from him, immediately realizing how big of a responsibility it will to be taking care of it. Hopefully with yielding results in jeopardy.

"Thank you." I mumble.

Mikhail hums and stands up. He picks up a journal from the table, sliding a piece of paper out of it. He comes back and hands it to me silently. There is a phone number with an email-id right below it. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"If you ever feel the need to contact me. In emergency...or for anything." He quietly says.

I frown, "You aren't coming with us?"

Mikhail looks at me like I am nuts, "Why would I, boy?"

"Why would you stay here?"

"Why don't you stay here?"

"This is not my home." I scoff.

"And Latvia isn't mine." He answers, effectively shutting me up. "I probably won't be there to greet you goodbye as well. I'll be working with the council members, discussing the 'unfortunate' demise of our rulers." He says sarcastically. "Your father will lead you boys out as I distract them. No need to attract unwanted attention."

"They'll eat you alive, you know." I blurt. But seriously, how can he just sit and take their shit?

"They have been eating me alive since I condemned Jermaine. They'll succeed irrevocably if I actually flee from my own home."

I have nothing to say to that. A man with pride is always difficult to sway. With a few more awkward words, we bid each other goodbye. Mikhail surprises me by ruffling my hair as I leave through his door.

Two days later we're stuffing our bags in a taxi at the outskirts of the realm. A few hours later we're shuffling our bags through the trans-Siberian railway station to catch the train for Novosibirsk. When finally, almost twenty hours later we're waiting to board our flight, our eyes tired, our movements sluggish, that's when Neal decides to entertain himself at my expense.

"Oh, I could ask that favor of you. But you have a habit of ignoring whatever I request of you."

Yeah, he is actually irritated that I did not listen to him in front of the Occultists.

"Only if you don't think of yourself as a macho hero." I grumble.

"Says the guy who is the damsel in distress half the time." Neal teases, "You need a 'macho hero'."

"Oh, jeez." Embarrassingly I cover my face with my hand. Father and Aakir are sitting on a different bench than Neal and I. Aakir is busy on his phone, probably texting Silvia. Father is nonchalantly looking around. But it is no secret that they both can hear Neal loud and clear.

Neal is still wearing those ridiculous glasses. Right now, however, the swelling around his eyes seems to have lessened a bit, especially as compared to two days back. That is probably what his making him less tired and more enthusiastic at the moment.

"God, I can't wait to get back to Plutocracy." Neal mutters after a while.

Yeah, probably his enthusiasm is resulting because we have only one flight left between Liepāja and Novosibirsk. Now that I think of it, it seems like a distant thing. School, The Plutocracy, soccer, Natalie...it seems like an eon has passed since those carefree days. Neal has all the right to be enthusiastic to be back to being his nerdy teenager self.

"You would have to get into the swing of things before you can start publishing your paper again." I comment.

Neal scoffs, "I can envisage it."

I glare at him, "Still, wouldn't it be a little suspicious for you to get your paper in swing on the first day itself?"

"I can always write about my adventures when I was away."

"Yeah.." I say slowly, "The school would love to read about the Occultists. Knowing how they worship you, they actually may even believe it."

"Who said anything about the witches?"

"Then is it going to be scimitar you'll be writing about?"

Neal scoffs, "That's actually a nerd thing. Why the hell would people read that? I can write more juicy stuff. Like how I babysat you. Twice."

I fluster, "Go to hell." I huff playfully, knowing he isn't actually going to do that.

"Oh, no?" Neal feigns mock surprise making me give him a dry stare. "How about I write of you kissing me? Twice."

"Twice?" I say indignantly, "I never kissed you the second time."

"Well," Neal drawls, "As far as technical lip-locking goes, there were definitely more than 'twice' in that one time alone. You should feel relieved I'll be writing only 'twice'."

I scoff, feeling warmth in my ears. "I didn't know you enjoyed it enough to keep track of it being more than 'twice'."

Neal looks surprised at my jab, probably because such conversations usually end up in me madly blushing and remaining quiet.

Well, not anymore. Two can play that game.

"Don't be getting any ideas, Lichinsky." Neal chortles, awkwardly looking away.

"In your dreams." I mutter, smiling but shaking my head.

Neal huffs, "Says the guy who likes to cuddle."

I splutter, "You never mind it!"

"Hard to 'mind' when you cling to me like a leech."

"Guys?" Aakir's amused voice interrupts my comeback. "Our flight just got announced. If you guys are done with your flirting..." he smirks.

My whole face burns red. I completely forgot about father and Aakir. Father is standing a few steps ahead, his eyes on me. Faintly smiling, amusingly if I have any say, but otherwise saying nothing. I roll my eyes as I get up. Neal is more verbal about his disapproval.

"Go and sext with your girl, Aakir."

Aakir playfully glares back. Father calls us before they can get into another playful banter. As we settle in our seats on the flight, I can't help but have Aakir's taunt re-running in my mind. I can't help but notice that yes, yes, Neal and I were kind of flirting. It's not as irritating as amusing the realization is. But it is still enough a thing to cause me discomfort as I squirm in my seat and glance away from Neal who is sitting beside me, towards the aisle side (yes, I called shotgun this time).

But stepping onto Latvian land, all the worry eases from our minds. It doesn't matter if I have actually started to flirt with Neal, however unintentional it may be. It doesn't matter how clingy, literally, I am when it comes to touching Neal. And it doesn't matter how comfortable we seem to be getting with these things. Back in Latvia, surrounded by the flourish green of Liepāja, with the cool wind bellowing from the direction of the sea; surrounded by my family, my mother, uncle, aunt, hell even aunt Gwen; ridiculously jostling around with my siblings and watching with overwhelming joy how enthusiastically, how much with alacrity they welcome Neal as if he is one of our own. Even more so how welcoming Neal is of my family; all for my sake.

That. That is exactly what matters.

To be continued...

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