Lost Prophet

Author's Note: Hi again! I know my usual line is "every story is stand alone, blah blah blah," but this really, really isn't. There's too much world building to repeat it all and still be interesting. Go read Blind Faith first <3

Sorry I've been gone. I'm queer and not cis in the US south. It's hard to write right now. This probably needs a part two, but there's a whole story arch in this part. You won't be left on a cliffhanger.

Flynn

Bars are hard. Too much noise, too many people. Too many chances to say the wrong thing. So, I was sitting in the corner and focusing on being unnoticed while Owen made his rounds. This place was apparently full of the kinds of people he knew - document forgers, smugglers, guns for hire, and bounty hunters like my man.

Owen never struggled in a crowd. His easy charisma and confidence made him magnetic. Watching him in his element was almost worth the social anxiety of being among so many people. My beautiful Owen, so small and slight, but with a bold, mischievous grin and the spirit of a much larger person. His pretty, dark curls drew attention, tempting curious hands to tug the coils and see if they were as springy as they looked. The pale complexion born of his time spent working at his computer suggested delicate china. His sharp, gray eyes were the biggest hint that he shouldn't be underestimated. I usually saw his soft, caring side or his playfully mischievous smirk, but everyone else saw a confident man with a caustic sense of humor edged with his cold, no nonsense way of handling his work.

I watched him laughing with a tall black woman with multicolor braids hanging down her back and a man that could have passed for a viking if he wasn't wearing basketball shorts. My heart sank when Owen turned to lead those two people back to our table.

Ok. Be normal. Act normal. Don't tell them anything about animals or plants. Or just be a tortoise and keep quiet. I could do it.

Maybe.

"Flynn, these are some old friends. Ophelia and Lucas," Owen introduced the two as they took seats across from me. The woman, Ophelia, blinked at me in surprise.

"Oh, I didn't even see you there!" she laughed. She had a pretty lilt in her speech that I tentatively place as Irish.

I smiled weakly and shrugged. She hadn't seen me until Owen pointed me out because I was actively occluding myself. That wasn't going to work so well if there were three people talking to me, so I let it drop. Owen squinted at me suspiciously. It wasn't terribly noticeable with small things like that, but he was very accustomed to the way the air shifted when I cast or dropped spells

"Flynn, huh? Do you hunt bounties with the wonder kid here?" Lucas asked.

"I'm too old for you to still call me that," Owen said dryly. "And, no, Flynn is my lovely partner. He doesn't hunt."

"I'm an artist," I volunteered. I had all my tattoos and scars covered. I still looked strange in my decorated denim jacket and purple hair, but I looked like your run of the mill punk artist instead of the favorite acolyte of my goddess.

"You bring in a lot of cash with that or are you trading ass for Owen's money?" Lucas snickered.

Owen was fast when he wanted to be, and he was a lot braver than you would guess from his size. He was up and dragging Lucas from his chair with a vicious snarl in less time than it took me to really clock that Lucas was making fun of me. He shoved Lucas backwards, making the big man stumble in surprise.

"I don't know why you think I would let you talk to my man like that," Owen said in that quiet, even way he used when he was really, really mad. I froze myself in place to keep from shuddering at the unfamiliar coldness from my beloved.

Lucas looked Owen up and down for a moment. I prepared myself to jump in. Owen was brave and dangerous in his own way, but I had a much better chance in a brawl with that big viking guy. Lucas relaxed and offered an uneasy grin.

"Sorry, man," he said with a tense laugh. "I'm drunk."

"Then I'll catch you another time," Owen said pointedly.

Lucas nodded and left without another word. Owen turned back to us with his mischievous smirk. He slid into the seat next to me and took my hand under the table.

"Lucas is a fucking idiot," Ophelia said conversationally. She sipped her beer, looking completely unbothered by the exchange. She and Owen talked bounties and let me just listen. Ophelia wasn't like Owen. He did most of his work on the computer. She apparently talked her way into anywhere she wanted to be. I could see why. She was engaging and beautiful. I'd probably let her into a bank vault, too.

"Flynn," Ophelia said, turning the conversation to me. I managed not to wince. "How did you meet Owen?"

"I got caught spraying some graffiti. Shark, um, Owen faked some distress calls and distracted the cops so I didn't get arrested," I answered.

"Shark?" Ophelia shot an amused look at Owen.

"Yeah, Shark," Owen scoffed. "Only Bunny gets to call me that."

"Hm, Shark and Bunny," she chuckled. "Cute."

"Very," Owen said blandly. "What was that job you wanted to run by me?"

Ophelia glanced at me pointedly.

"He goes everywhere I go," Owen said. "If you can't talk about it in front of Flynn, you shouldn't pitch it to me."

"Ah, well," Ophelia looked at me for a long moment. "I don't know where your affinities lie. This isn't for everyone."

"I don't pick the jobs," I said, trying to sound friendly and engaged like Owen. "I'm just a, um, I go with him."

Owen squeezed my hand under the table.

"Right," Ophelia said doubtfully. "It's a temple job. I don't fuck with temples, but I told the client I would pass them to someone I trust."

"Am I third or fourth choice?" Owen asked.

"First, actually," she said. "Lucas is second. I'm sure he'll take it if you don't."

"Nice," he chuckled. "Yeah, send me the details. I'll take a look."

...

Owen

Flynn perked up on the walk back to our hotel. That didn't surprise me. The deserted city streets at night were second nature to him. I wrapped my arm around his waist and leaned into him so he would tuck me under his arm.

"You don't have to fight with your friends," he said thoughtfully. "I don't really care what people say about me."

"I care," I said firmly. "I can't fix everything, but I can stop some asshole from disrespecting you."

"What if he threw a punch, though?" Flynn asked quietly. "I was ready to jump in, but I might not have gotten over there fast enough to stop him from hurting you."

"Well, Lucas wouldn't have thrown a punch in that bar," I pointed out. "He would have had half the bar on him and gotten a ban. No fighting at the Crow. It's neutral ground."

"So you were bluffing," he concluded with a sigh.

"No, I was baiting him," I said. "He was either going to walk away or be dragged away. I had the upper hand and I'm not as delicate as you think. I used to be the kind of bounty hunter that needs to fight, and I did it without you to be my attack dog."

"I'm not a very good attack dog," he chuckled. "But I make an ok kingsnake."

"Oh, I know that one!" I exclaimed. "Red touches black, yeah? You look dangerous when you're really not?"

"I'm rubbing off on you," Flynn giggled. "You'll be sharing inappropriate facts in weird situations before you know it."

"You can rub off on me any time you want," I purred to him. Flynn shivered with goosebumps and pulled me in tight.

The night was cool and pleasant. We passed a few other people, but we were in a quiet part of the city. Flynn stopped every now and then to add his handmade stickers to random telephone poles and blue mail collection boxes as we passed. Each of those stickers was unique, with scenes of twisted forests or intricate, miniature paintings of animals and bugs, all covered with packing tape to make them more weatherproof. There were spells hidden under the paint, little covert shrines for his goddess. He had explained it to me once in his strange, circuitous way.

"It's chlorophyll. That painting attracts admiration, the spell converts it to praise for my lady," he told me back then. "Worship photosynthesis. Food for gods."

I didn't really understand, but that didn't matter. I loved to see him happy and in his element when he locked in to paint those tiny masterpieces. The sweet, awestruck look on his face when he left them behind to work his magic was enough for me to just accept whatever it was that he was doing.

We turned down an abandoned street lined with dark businesses and picturesque street lights that reminded me of London. A wicked thought crossed my mind. I ducked out of Flynn's embrace and very gently pushed him down the closest alley with one hand on his chest. He took one look at my smirk, grinned, and bit his lip.

Flynn was a lot bigger than me. By all accounts, I shouldn't have been able to push him around at all. He loved it when I took over, though, and he let me back him up to the bricks in that shadowed off street.

"Hey there, Bunny," I growled softly. The desperate shudder that ran through him as I palmed his growing erection through his jeans jolted me like a static shock. "I want you to fuck my face. Will you do that for me, baby? Shove this big dick down my throat and make me gag?"

Flynn looked a little surprised, but he nodded eagerly.

"You beautiful boy," I sighed happily and dragged him down to kiss him. Flynn was exactly my dream of a perfect man. Tall and lanky, with lean, knotted muscles hidden under the layers he wore to hide the tattoos that marked him as an acolyte. His cute face always boasted dark stubble and he kept his hair dyed bright, eye-catching colors. Dark, nearly black eyes gave him an eerie, unnerving gaze that pierced my soul. On top of all that, he had a genuine sweetness in his soul that soothed my rougher edges.

I pushed him back to the wall and quickly unbuttoned his jeans to shoved my hand down his pants. Flynn whimpered and covered his mouth to contain his reaction. He begged me with his eyes while I teased him, tracing his straining dick through his boxers and pulling him back down to kiss the delicate skin of his throat.

I didn't waste any more time. The ground was littered with gravel that dug into the knees of my thick jeans. I ignored that in favor of freeing Flynn's gorgeous, weighty cock. I licked the tip just to see him jump. Flynn whined and reached for me to cradle my face with his glove covered palms. He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs and gave me his sweet, loving smile.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you," I replied. "Now fuck my face like you own me, baby."

His hands shifted to my hair to hold me more aggressively while I liberally licked him from base to tip. He swallowed a needy sound when I circled his tip and began to work my way down. I pushed him to the back of my throat and held him there, drooling and humming happily at the way he was shaking.

The pressure on the back of my throat threatened a gag, but I pushed through it and eased him down. Flynn gripped the back of my head and slowly, carefully guided me up and back down. His eyes were on mine, looking for my go ahead or any hint that he should stop. I couldn't smirk at him with his dick down my throat, but he still saw the twinkle in my eyes. He grinned and increased his pace with his attention still on me. I moaned and squeezed his thighs to encourage him.

Flynn tightened his hold in my hair and really gave in. I purred happily, tearing up and gagging but loving the way he gazed at me with pure love while his body screamed lust. I went limp to let Flynn use me like a toy. He growled softly as his thrusts knocked the thoughts from my head.

"Shark, I'm close," he warned me breathlessly. "You want it in your mouth?"

I nodded as best as I could with my face impaled like it was. Flynn grinned and upped his pace, holding his breath and trying to stay quiet. He grunted when he came, I hummed happily at the way his dick swelled in my throat. He panted a moment, then pulled back so I could breathe.

Crouching down in front of me, Flynn stroked my back until I caught my breath. He gently wiped my face with the sleeve of his jacket and kissed me with all the tenderness he didn't use to fuck me.

"What about you, Shark? You want me to return the favor?" he offered.

"Nah, I'm good," I chuckled. "You can get me later."

He helped me back up and brushed my knees off with a wince.

"I think those jeans are done for unless you're going to start dressing like me," he said. I looked down at my stained knees and laughed.

"Oh, well," I said and shrugged. "Let's get back to the room. I think I'll put you in that giant bathtub and see what happens."

...

Flynn

"Hey, Bunny? Can I get your opinion on this?" Owen called me from the floor in front of the little couch in our hotel suite. I looked up from my sketchbook and tried to process the words he said from the hyper focused haze I'd dropped into. Owen patiently repeated the request.

"Oh, sure?" I said in confusion. He didn't ask my opinion on his jobs just like I didn't ask his opinions on the art I did for my goddess. I sat behind him on the couch and leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen.

It was the file Ophelia had sent. There was a picture of a young man with soft brown eyes and dusty blond hair in oracle robes, followed by a name and the location of a temple.

"The bounty is an oracle?" I asked.

"Sort of. Elijah here is missing, the job is to locate him and bring him back," Owen explained. "But I'm not that familiar with this stuff. Is there a reason he would be missing besides foul play?"

I looked at the picture and listened carefully. I couldn't pick up anything directly about a person through a picture, but my intuition was always close at hand.

"You can find him," I said slowly, "But you shouldn't help the temple get him back."

"Hm, yeah. That's what I thought," Owen said. He typed a quick reply to Ophelia telling her this job wasn't a good fit. I watched him send it off, then stopped him from closing out the file.

"Can you find him?" I asked. "I think, um, it feels bad. I think he needs help."

"Why would he be missing from the temple?" Owen asked me.

"Oracle robes " I pointed out. "He's got at seven or eight leaves on that pin he's wearing. That's usually years of service, and that file says he's just nineteen."

"You think he's a temple ward that he ran," Owen said. He meant a talented child handed over to a temple to serve, usually with very little input from the kid in question. I nodded.

"If he was taken as an oracle that young, then he's a prodigy. He's a prize racehorse and that temple he's in is a prophecy factory. They'll push him to glory or burnout," I said. "Either way, he'll be broken in a decade. There's no nice way out."

I mean that the temple was one of the large chains that specialized in keeping oracles and selling their talents for cash. Oracles in those places were locked into service with nasty temple pledges and kept far away from any outside influences. The best an oracle could hope for in a place like that was being treated like a pampered pet. Oracle farms usually attracted disgraced acolytes kicked out of other temples or they purchased very young potential oracles from their families. It wasn't really legal, but there wasn't any authority all that interested in stopping the practice.

Owen looked thoughtfully at the very young man in the picture. It was obviously a promo shot, with him in the traditional robes and kneeling in a sumptuous sanctuary. The icons on the walls indicated a few different gods. That wasn't unusual for large oracle farms. They often had representation from any number of compatible deities to appeal to the widest client base.

"We'll be racing Lucas," Owen said thoughtfully. "And I'll have to stick to less noticeable tactics, but I have more tricks than he even knows about. Shouldn't be a problem."

"You'll do it?" I said hopefully.

"Bunny, you know I'll do anything for you. You only have to ask," he said fondly. "I'll need your help on this one. I have a feeling there's going to be some acolyte shit going on."

...

Owen

Finding people wasn't much different than finding information. That was where I began my criminal career, after all. I started with uncovering what I could on the temple Elijah had disappeared from.

It was pretty standard. A US franchise location of an off shore based chain, privately owned and managed mostly in shadows. No files accessible online. It looked like we needed to get close enough for me to tap their internal network.

We were back home in the little mountain cabin that Flynn was slowly turning into a gallery of his art both inside and out. He painted directly on the walls, often filling the air with fumes from his spray paint until I opened all the windows to chase off the headache.

He was outside somewhere in the woods most of that day. I expected him to show up sometime around dinner like he usually did, so I started cooking a meal for us. Cooking wasn't something I had bothered much with before Flynn. I ate because I needed food. Taking care of Flynn, making sure he got everything he deserved and more, was enough of a reason for me to brush up on my culinary skills. I would never say I was a great chef, but I could put together a few meals that he really loved.

Flynn showed up around sunset. He grinned at me from the doorway and shed his muddy boots in the entry. The blood smeared on his face and staining his shirt was the only hint I needed to know he had been communing with his goddess out there. She always at least made his nose bleed. She occasionally left him with bruises or claw marks. I'd learned to bite my tongue and keep extra tee shirts around for him.

I didn't comment as I wet a dish towel with warm water and carefully cleaned the blood off his face. Flynn smiled sheepishly while he allowed me to fuss over him.

"Did she want anything in particular?" I asked him quietly.

"Not really," he said. "She's questioning why I'm bothering with another deity's follower, but she didn't forbid it assuming I still meet my responsibilities."

"Hm, how generous," I scoffed. "Can I go into a temple with your sigil on my arm?"

"It's occluded," Flynn said. I just looked at him until he explained. "Um, there's a spell worked into it that disguises the whole thing. The passive detections at most temples will read it like a normal devotional. Like something a mundane worshipper might get from a temple, you know? Anyone looking close will know what it is, though, so keep it covered and don't give them a reason to really scan you. What temple are you going to?"

"The one our oracle friend disappeared from," I told him. "I need a peek at their files. Can you go into a temple?"

"Sure," he said. "I'll have to work a little harder to hide myself, but I can do it."

...

The temple was out in a Seattle suburb, tucked among the evergreens, fast food chains, and outlet malls. It was small, with the prerequisite faux limestone facade and ornate columns, all cast with fake cracks to mimic an ancient structure. The small temple couldn't have housed more than a half dozen oracles.

We were sitting in the outdoor seating of the sandwich place next door. I had my laptop out. Flynn didn't have a laptop, so he was occupying himself with one of the esoteric books he had collected over our travels and his notebook.

There was definitely a local network. I was lightly tapping at it to see if I could get in without raising any alarms. It was slow, but there was very little security to speak. Prodding around their files was disappointing, though. It seemed this small franchise still relied on paper records.

"How do we break into a building full of people who predict the future?" I asked Flynn. He looked up at the painted CMU side of the building for a moment.

"We don't," he said. "We go ask one of the oracles to help."

"And when they report us to the temple? Or tell Lucas they already talked to someone?" I pointed out.

"I'll pick one who won't," he said with a shrug. "Give me a minute to boost my occlusions. Then we can go see if there's a wait."

...

Flynn

The inside of the temple looked like a cheap hotel with an ancient Roman theme, which was exactly what I expected. We approached the reception where a bored looking teenage girl wearing gold plastic laurels on her head greeted us.

I studied the names of the oracles behind her while Owen charmed his way through giving her our fake information. Elijah's name was still up there with a printed out piece of paper reading "unavailable" taped over it. I calmed my mind and focused on the names until Owen gently nudged me.

"Who do you want to see?" he prompted.

I gave him the name that felt the best - Kimberly. The receptionist nodded and waved us off to the waiting room.

That part of the building was made up like an outdoor market with vending machines staged under brightly colored awnings. Some sold refreshments, but most had various religious icons and colorful offering bundles. I focused on blocking all the detection spells scattered around that building and waited.

We were eventually directed back to a dim room draped in white cloth. There was no furniture, but large cushions lay strewn around the floor. The heavy scent of fake incense weighed down the air to settle in my sinuses like pollen.

In the center of the room was a woman kneeling with her head down. She wore the standard white robes that marked any oracle, though they looked cheap and thin. Her long hair was styled intricately on the top of her head.

"Welcome, pilgrims," she intoned. "The gods appreciate your devotion."

Owen rolled his eyes, but he stayed silent. I went to kneel on the pillow in front of her. I examined her carefully, looking deeper than the surface. She jerked her head up in surprise to eye me warily.

"Hi," I greeted her once I concluded I had chosen well. "Can we ask you some questions?"

"You weren't marked as an acolyte," she said doubtfully.

She stood up and pushed the fabric aside on one wall, revealing a very normal looking door. It opened into a tidy, windowless studio apartment. Kimberly snatched some papers off the counter. She flipped through them irritably.

"Look. There's been a mistake," she said. "I don't prophesize for acolytes. You'll have to see someone else."

"We don't want a prophecy," Owen said. "We're trying to help Elijah. Will you answer some questions?"

She froze in place and looked up slowly from her papers.

"Why would I know anything about a runaway?" she whispered, glancing around nervously.

"Relax, I scrambled any surveillance in the place," Owen said. "All of today is going to be mysteriously corrupted. Now, Bunny thinks you're the one who wants the best for Elijah. He's never wrong about that kind of thing. So, will you help us?"

"Who are you? Why would you help Eli?" she said suspiciously.

"I'm the guy your temple tried to hire to drag that kid back in," Owen said. "Bunny is the sweetheart who asked me to save him."

Kimberly turned her dubious look on me.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Um, well," I said, trying to buy enough time to answer correctly. My head was getting a little fuzzy from blocking the detections in that place for so long. "It feels bad. The whole thing is sour and he needs help."

"Yeah, I agree. But why are you helping him? What's the connection here?" she pressed.

"Rats save other rats if they are in trouble," I said. "Even if they never met before."

"He means he sees himself in the kid and wants to help," Owen translated.

"Right," I said, casting a grateful look at Owen. "I just want to help."

Kimberly sat back in front of me and squinted at me. I felt the light touch of magic in the air. She gave a mirthless chuckle.

"You're warded to hell and back," she said. "I'd have said you were mundane if you hadn't read me a minute ago."

"I'm careful," I said. "But will you help us? Shark needs a file."

"Weird codenames," she said. "What file?"

"Anything about Elijah's life before he came here," Owen said. "Ideally in a way that no one will notice I took the info."

"He didn't go back to his family," she said with a frown. "They're the ones who sold him to the temple."

"Ok. Then where did he go?" Owen pressed. "Point me in the right direction and maybe we'll get to him before the hunter who actually took the job."

Kimberly stood and went to Owen where he was leaning on the wall. I saw him twitch as she called on her magic again. She sighed and sat back down.

"He's warded, too," she said. "But not as much as you. Elijah didn't tell me exactly where he was going. He had a regular that convinced him that they would help him, somehow. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was dead set. I know he was going to take a bus to wherever he was going. The closest station is over near the stadium. Does that help at all?"

Owen grinned. "That's perfect. You didn't see us, right?"

Kimberly huffed and looked down at the paper again.

"I saw Kevin and Joseph," she said. "I definitely didn't talk to anyone with weird animal names. Oh, sit down, you have to show a prophecy at the door or I'll get penalized."

Owen groaned, but he sat beside me.

"The intake form said you're looking for a love temp check. Is that fine?" she asked.

"Sure," Owen said. "Can you do that with all our wards?"

"Eh, I wouldn't call it the best set up for a solid prophecy, but love temps are more party trick than prophecy. You have to lose those gloves for this to work."

I tried not to react too much and just pulled off my fingerless gloves. Kimberly took a look at my deeply scarred palms with a wary side eye.

"Your temple did that? That's horrific," she said with a note of disgust. "We switched to freeze brands decades ago." I just shrugged. There were plenty of brutal temples devoted to blood gods that regularly inflicted pain on their charges. She could make whatever assumption she wanted.

She handed me a small, shiny black stone shaped like a heart. She took one of our hands in hers and instructed us to hold hands with the stone in our between our palms to complete the circle. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. There was the pressure of magic around us and a fizzy, swirling sensation on my skin. When her eyes opened again, she stared past us with her face slack.

"Aw, how cute," she giggled in a voice that sounded like hers, but with completely different intonation. "Soulmates. Congratulations."

Kimberly's eyes slowly focused on us again. She shook off her trance and let go of us.

"So? What's the word?" she asked.

I looked at the little stone. To my surprise, it was a saturated, bloody red, and glimmering with small facets that caught the light.

"Ooh, that's bright! Nice," she said. She started ushering us out. "Now leave before you get me into more shit."

...

Owen

Flynn was playing with the heart shaped rock the oracle gave us while we pretended to wait for a bus. I was on my phone, breaking into the security system to build a backdoor for myself. It would be a lot easier to comb through CCTV footage and ticket sales without the pressure of being in public.

"Is that rock a real thing?" I asked him. Flynn's shy grin showed a glimpse of his teeth. He glanced up at me and giggled.

"Well, maybe," he said. "They can be faked pretty easily. She really connected with a god to do that prophecy, though, so it could be real."

"You think we're soulmates?" I asked just to see him blush. Flynn bit his lip and grinned at me.

"I think you're the only man I could ever trust so completely," he answered. "I think I will never, ever love another person like I love you."

"But not soulmates?" I teased him. I didn't particularly care what we called each other. I knew what we were.

"My soul isn't mine to give," he said a little sadly. "But you have my heart."

"I'm teasing, Bun," I reassured him. "Second place to a goddess is still pretty good."

He leaned on my shoulder and closed his eyes. He was trying to tough it out, but whatever he did to hide himself in the temple had worn him out.

"Don't think of it as second place," he said softly. "It's really not the same."

"I know," I murmured. "I'll be done in a minute and we can go back to the room and rest, ok?"

"I'm ok," he insisted. "Do what you need to do."

I didn't argue, but I also let him stretch out on the bench with his head in my lap. I stroked his hair while I worked and smiled as he relaxed under my hand.

...

Flynn

Owen was focused on picking his way through the bus depot's cameras and records. I couldn't help, so I went out to explore Seattle and leave some art behind.

It was dreary and rainy which seemed like ideal Pacific Northwest weather to set the tone for the city. Cold drops of rain soaked my hair and ran under the collar of my jacket to chill my bones.

I took any turn that felt right, wandering deeper into the city. Coffee shops and local stores lined the street I found myself on. I ducked into one fragrant cafe advertising sandwiches and lattes to get a break from the cold.

That wasn't something I could do before Owen. I never had enough money to buy much at a cute place like that and I looked entirely too unhoused back then for the workers to let me stay very long with a single cup of drip coffee. Shark insisted that I always carry money with me after we met. It felt strange at first, I didn't like taking his money for nothing, but he slowly convinced me that he absolutely delighted in keeping me safe and happy.

I ordered a hot chocolate topped in a gratuitous mound of whipped cream. Pretty little curls of chocolate decorated the fluffy cloud. It was decadent in a way that made me feel unconnected to my life just a few years before. A tiny luxury I wouldn't have even considered before Owen.

I chose a table by the windows so I could sip my drink and watch the rain. The rich, warm chocolate warmed me beyond just the heat of the cup in my hands. I hummed happily.

Chocolate, zealot? You ask me to share you with that heretic for chocolate?

She was speaking quietly enough for me to hide the painful reaction, a dull ache in my head instead of the full body rictus of her real presence. I set my phone on the table and popped a set of earbuds in. That had been Owen's idea for when I needed to be less obvious. I looked a lot less insane taking a phone call in public than I did talking to myself.

"He is so much more to me than chocolate, lady." The question had a note of amusement to it, so I answered it a little cheekily. She chuckled inside my head. I winced and set the cup down to avoid crushing it in reflex to the jolts of her voice.

The boy you are looking for, he may be an oathbreaker. Don't let his poor influence sway you. I will not tolerate any equivocation.

"I won't," I promised. "He didn't choose this life. It's not the same. I'm your devoted acolyte, lady. I'll be your zealot for as long as you'll allow it."

The luxuries your heretic gives you cannot compare to the blessings of a goddess.

"I know, lady," I insisted. "He gives me love and comfort. You give my life purpose. I won't forget."

Be sure you don't. Leave a shrine in this city tonight, zealot. Do not fail me.

"Yes, lady," I replied. Her presence lifted from my mind. I shuddered and reached for my hot chocolate again to find the simple warmth it offered.

The rain was going to be an issue. I finished off my drink and went to scout somewhere both sheltered and hidden enough to paint that night.

...

Owen

I scoured the security footage first. I had a decent idea of the timespan Elijah might have been there, but it was still an undertaking to watch the hours upon hours of tape.

Flynn came and went, packing his paints and kissing the top of my head on the way. I grinned to myself. He smelled like chocolate. Nothing made me happier than knowing he was finally indulging a little with the money he at first insisted he didn't need.

I settled in to focus on the grainy footage. There was something infuriating about the poor quality video. I could have gotten a better image with my cell phone. I squinted at every figure that could possibly be the admittedly generic looking kid I was trying to find. Elijah had nothing particularly identifying about him as a young man of average height, narrow but not noticeably skinny build, with his brown eyes and short, blondish hair.

Flynn came back with paint stains on his jeans and the blissful smile he wore after painting something for his goddess a few hours before I found a figure that looked promising. I switched to the camera above the counter to see his face. He had his hood up and kept his head down, but I was pretty sure it was our guy.

I cross referenced with sales at that register at that time. I almost laughed when I saw the ticket - a one way ticket to Nashville. Not quite home for us, but definitely on the way.

"Hey, Bunny," I called to Flynn, realizing too late that he was curled up asleep, still in his clothes, on top of the duvet. He jerked up with his eyes wide. I felt that familiar bite of guilt anytime I accidentally caused those fear reactions in him. My bunny knew he was safe with me, but he had a lifetime of experiences that provoked his unconscious mind to protect himself.

"Sorry, baby," I said softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"What? No, I'm ok," he laughed off his reaction. He certainly did recover quickly. It still hurt to see him jump from a sound sleep to full alert like that. "Did you find something?"

"Yeah, looks like he's headed east," I said. "Nashville. He would have gotten there two days ago assuming he made all his changes."

"Do you think he's still in the area? Two days is long enough to get somewhere else," Flynn said.

"He somehow paid nearly seven hundred dollars to get all the way to Tennessee," I pointed out. "He can't have much more money than that. Temple devotees don't have their own money, right?"

"Depends on the temple, but oracles for sure don't have money," he said, then frowned. "I wonder how he got that much to begin with?"

I had my suspicions, but I wasn't going to give him that answer.

"I'll get us a flight for tomorrow," I said.

...

Elijah

Oh, gods.

I made a mistake.

I should have known it was going to go badly the minute I lost the dumb little travel blessing I bought in the bus terminal. It was a novelty, a good luck charm. Something that stupidly symbolized my escape. The first thing I'd bought for myself since being handed over to the temple. My life for the last eight years had been reading into omens and seeing connections, the disappearance of something I put so much meaning into should have tipped me off. But I chalked it up to the cheap beaded chain that attached it to my belt loop breaking and shrugged it all off.

It was dark where I was, and I could barely remember how I got there. I recalled moments, flashes of a car trunk and a sense of deep betrayal. It was stiflingly hot and damp. The floor was dirt, the walls rounded metal. There were no corners in that place. The limited light that filtered through rusted spots in the aged metal and the way my useless screams echoed gave me the impression of a very high ceiling above me.

There were others nearby. I could hear them, sometimes, banging on metal or wood, shouting for help, but too far away for us to communicate.

I just wanted out. I wanted to see the sky and trees and even the loud, coughing buses that poked their way to Tennessee. Promises were made. Not a luxurious life, not the pampered, gilded trap of an existence given to an oracle even at a cheap temple like mine, but the promise of a hand up and a chance to work for the life I wanted.

I was an oracle of all things. I thought I couldn't be tricked.

Stupid. Stupid.

I knew better than to believe that people would be kind just for kindness' sake.

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

...

Owen

Another day, another Greyhound station. I was once again tapping into their system on my phone, but I had a much smaller window of time to search than at the previous station. This particular station was busy with constant arrivals and departures. No one noticed me sitting among the other people in the waiting room by design. I wasn't entirely sure if Lucas, or whoever took the contract, had managed to track Elijah to Tennessee or not, but I didn't want to be noticed in any security tape and I couldn't scramble the surveillance everywhere I went without raising an alarm. I was wearing boring, bland clothes that hid my body size with the hood pulled up to disguise my recognizable hair. There was no disguising my beloved, so I sent Flynn off to explore the city while I worked.

I found the video I needed and watched Elijah disembark. I followed him from camera to camera until he stopped in the same waiting room I was currently snooping in. He paced nervously for half an hour, which meant I pretended to be engrossed in my phone for half an hour just in case something important happened during that time.

I watched a well dressed woman in her thirties or forties approach him. Elijah seemed hesitant, but he eventually followed her out to a waiting silver sedan. I snapped several screenshots in hopes of decoding the license plate later.

That was as much as I could hope to get out of the bus station. I stood up, stretched, and left to find Flynn.

...

Flynn

There was something wrong moving aimlessly around that city.

I had been to Nashville several times before. I lived there in the tent city on the south side of the metro proper for a few months before they cleared it out. Parts of Nashville were always a little off in the same way the fake ancient Roman affectations of the temple in Seattle were off. Tourist bars dressed up like country hole-in-the-walls, cowboy costumes for buildings. This was different, though. This wasn't just insincerity sharpened to part fools from their money. Something I couldn't quite pinpoint was crawling the streets, sending off waves of disquieting unease as it went.

The vibration of my phone in my pocket dragged me back out of the dull dread I'd settled into.

"Hey, Shark," I greeted Owen.

"Hey, Bun. Where are you? I just finished up," he said.

"Oh, um," I looked up. I had just followed my feet without thinking about it. "It's a park. There's a playground and, um, like a dragon?"

"A... a dragon?" Owen repeated doubtfully.

"Like a sculpture," I explained. The sculpture in question was a giant concrete thing covered in colorful mosaic tiles. It rose from the ground, cradling one side of the playground, in great loops like a sea serpent rising from the waves.

"Shit, your pin is like an hour's walk away from me. Ok, I'll catch an Uber. Sit tight," Owen said and hung up.

I looked at the trees and listened to the kids playing on the playground. The birds were flitting among the branches. Squirrels searched for scraps around the trashcans. That all seemed fine. Not right, exactly, there was a tightness to the air the kids and animals could feel in a way that most adults didn't. The playground fights sounded angrier than I expected. The birds and squirrels were alert and nervous. But it wasn't full-on panic.

A crow lighted on the bench beside me. I glanced at the bird, but I didn't move. She would let me know what she wanted in her own time. I watched from the corner of my eye as she puffed herself up and hopped closer to me to tilt her head curiously.

"Hello," I said in greeting. I moved slowly, gently. Just enough to face her. The caw she made wasn't words. Of course it wasn't. I couldn't talk to animals. They did tend to have an affinity for me, though. I suspected they could feel the influence of my goddess.

The inky bird cast a look over her shoulder, back to the south side of the city. She puffed up again and settled on the bench with her body pressed to the side of my leg. I left her there and went back to listening to the wind. The wrongness had faded slightly, as though it was moving away from the park.

Owen showed up some time later. He had his hands in his pockets and his hair in a frizzy mess. He must have had his hood up over his curls at some point. He looked curiously at the bird sleeping beside me.

"Did you get a new pet?" he asked.

"I think she just wanted some company," I said. The crow shook herself, glared reproachfully at Owen, and took flight.

"Oops, I didn't mean to make your friend fly away," he apologized.

"Nah, that's just what birds do," I waved him off. "Did you find anything useful?"

"A mystery woman and a car to track down," he said. I stood up and pulled him to my side as we walked back towards the street. "Looks like a few days of staring at my screen."

"Are we staying in Nashville for that?" I tried to sound neutral, but Owen looked up at me with suspicion in his pretty gray eyes.

"Should we not?" he asked.

"There's something wrong here," I said quietly. "The whole city feels wrong in a once removed way. Like hearing a fight in the next room. Like something festering in the crawlspace."

Owen frowned at my description and looked around the park like he might notice cracks in the earth belching sulfur around us.

"Should we leave?" he asked me. He never doubted me. It didn't matter how vague or how strange my warnings were, Owen trusted me.

"Not right now if staying will help find Elijah," I said. "It's not immediate danger and he might still be here."

We were nearly out of the park when a crow, probably the one from before, but who can really say with wild birds, swooped down to land on the sidewalk in front of us. I'm not entirely sure that birds can glare, but that was the general vibe she was giving Owen. She dropped something shiny on the concrete, tilted her head to look at me, and flew away. I crouched to pick up the gift and show it to Owen.

"A travel blessing?" he said doubtfully.

Owen wasn't great at recognizing spells, but there were a few you would see just about everywhere. The thin aluminum disk in my hand was roughly the size of a half dollar and had simple sigils for protection and movement stamped roughly into the surface. There was a hole at the top to thread it on a chain or a keyring. Cheap blessings like that could be bought just about anywhere. Most stores kept a small selection next to the candy bars and gum at the checkout.

"Looks like it," I said. I dropped the trinket in the front pocket of my backpack.

"Does that mean something?" he pressed. "A raven giving you a gift like that?"

"She's a crow," I said. "And maybe not, but it's good practice to accept gifts from friendly crows. Ravens need more caution. You should be wary of gifts from ravens. Magpies are a toss up."

"I'll keep that in mind," Owen chuckled. "Seriously, Bun. Are you going to be ok staying here? We can get a hotel out in the suburbs and still be plenty close if we need to get back here."

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "It just feels bad."

Owen squinted at me for a long time before he accepted that answer.

"Ok, but we can leave any time," he reminded me. "Let's go find some food. Hattie B's? I hear hot chicken is the thing to get here."

"Prince's," I corrected him. "Only tourists pick Hattie B's."

...

Owen

I wasn't surprised to find Flynn casually hanging out with crows. He was a rabbit, after all. Animals recognized him as one of their own. My sweet, feral boy.

I worked for a while when we got back to the room. I had a few of my own homebrewed programs that I suspected would help me with the car, at least. Once I had those up and running, I looked around for my bunny.

The room I booked was on a high enough floor to look out over the twinkling glass and lights of the city. I found Flynn out on the balcony. There were chairs out there, but he was sitting on the concrete leaning forward with his forehead pressed to the glass rail and his black eyes reflecting the city like tiny galaxies. I kissed his cheek and sat beside him.

"Hey, Shark," he said, keeping his eyes on the skyline. He sounded pensive. "When we find Elijah, do you think there's anything we can actually do to help him?"

"Well, it depends on what he wants and what he needs," I said. "I can definitely set him up with a fake identity, get him off the grid for a bit, and help him settle in somewhere small and boring where he can just blend in."

"My lady said he could be an oathbreaker," Flynn said quietly. He finally turned to look at me with the side of his head pressed to the rail. "Depending on the oath, that might mean he won't be able to stay peacefully around anywhere with a temple, which is pretty much everywhere. Not unless he wants to pledge to someone else who will be willing to protect him."

"Would your lady take his oath?" I asked.

Flynn grimaced and shrugged. Yeah, that seemed right. The goddess that regularly left him dazed and bloody wasn't one I would accuse of charity. I sometimes wondered why she chose someone as sweet and genuinely kind as Flynn to be her acolyte. On my own uncharitable days, I assumed it was because she knew she could manipulate him.

"Well, that's a bridge we can cross when we come to it," I said. "We won't get anywhere worrying about it now."

"I hope this is what he wants," Flynn said. He turned his dark gaze back to the city. I saw his throat working to swallow an emotion that was too big to stay in his chest. "He's spent his whole life being sent and ordered and sold. I want to give him something. Something he can choose."

I leaned on Flynn's shoulder. The sounds of the streets below us floated up like a radio in a distant room. Music, people, cars, sirens. There weren't as many stars in the sky there. I had grown fond of the blanket of galaxies seen from our distant cabin in the woods.

"Bunny, I'm sorry you never got to choose," I said quietly.

"I agreed to worship her," he said roughly. Flynn clenched his eyes shut and shuddered. "I chose it. I accepted the oath."

"Ok," I murmured.

"You don't believe me," he chuckled bleakly.

"I don't think a twelve year old can make that kind of decision," I said carefully. "But maybe it's what you would have chosen when you were older."             

"I definitely wouldn't have chosen to be an oracle," he said with a finality that was unlike him. "Some of them choose it, but it's a terrible life. Stuck in one place dealing with people all day. Letting deities use your voice. They never see the sky. They never see anything but people who want something from them. I get to travel. I get to make my art. I only have my goddess to please. I see the stars every night. I can sit in the sunshine. I got the chance to meet you. It was the best choice."

He traced the familiar lines of his scarred palms that marked him as a devotee of his goddess. The marks he cut into his own hands as a child under the influence of a power beyond his imagination. He shuddered silently and balled his hands into fists.

"How can I help?" I asked him gently. He had made it clear that he wouldn't hear any suggestions from me when it came to his relationship with his deity. I bit back the comments about how I could help him if he broke his oath just as well as I could help this oracle kid. Flynn blinked like he was coming up out of cold water and focused back on me with a sad, crooked smile.

"You already helped, Shark," he said quietly. "You already gave me more than I thought I would ever have. I don't mean the money and the hotels or even the cabin, um, I mean just you. The way you love me. The way you treat me. Like I'm someone special."

"Oh, Bunny," I sighed. A lump in my throat made my voice a little too tight. "You're someone special without me in the picture. You would have been someone special without pledging yourself to a goddess."

"Maybe," he said quietly. "I doubt it, but maybe. There's something off in my head. I don't understand the things that seem obvious to everyone else. I can't do life alone."

I reached for him to pull him into my arms. Flynn moved willingly to press his face to my shoulder and let me cradle him as best I could.

"I love you, and I'd never want to lose you," I started, "But it's infuriating that I'm the first person who appreciated you. Your perspective on the world is amazing. I love the little glimpses you give me of your thoughts. You're brilliant, Bun. I wish someone noticed that when you were young. You could have had the world at your fingers if anyone had ever bothered to listen to you."

"I love you," he mumbled into my shoulder. "I'm so glad you decided to keep me."

"My sweet Bunny," I sighed and stroked his hair. "My beautiful boy. My treasure. I made an offer, but you chose to stay. You stand up to a goddess every day to be with me. This life we have together is because of you and the pain you go through to protect what we have."

He looked up at me with a sweet, surprised smile. His dark eyes were damp, but they crinkled at the corners with his delight. Flynn giggled, twisted in my arms to kneel over my lap, and gently pushed my head back to the glass rail. He kissed my forehead and sighed.

"How do you always know exactly what to say?"

"I'm not brilliant," I said. I reached up to pull him down and press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I have to be charming to make up for that."

"You're at least as smart as me," he giggled. "I didn't even finish high school. Don't you have some kind of graduate degree?"

"Well, one of my aliases does. Educated and smart are not the same thing," I teased him. "And it's not a competition. You can be smart and cute and sweet, I'll be the mouthy asshole with the pretty face."

"So pretty," Flynn agreed in a purr. "The prettiest man I've ever seen."

A wicked thought occurred to me while Flynn pressed his body to mine and tenderly kissed me.

"Hey, Bunny," I said. Flynn grinned at the promise in my tone. "You ever fuck outside?"

"Of course I have," he laughed. "I was unhoused for a decade. Most men are too smart to invite the weird street artist covered in magic tattoos back to their hotel room."

"Hm," I grunted, not loving the idea of men taking advantage of my sweet man. "Let me amend the question. Have you ever fucked the man who loves you more than life itself on a hotel balcony under the stars?"

"Now that would be a new experience," he said and started kissing down my neck. "You want me to fuck you, Shark? Or am I your good boy tonight?"

"You are my perfect, brilliant, feral artist," I told him. "And I want you to bend me over this railing and make me take it."

Flynn giggled and looked up at the railing above us.

"It's too high to bend you over it," he pointed out. I was going to pretend to be insulted to be called short, but Flynn was already on his feet and dragging me up. He spun me around and shoved my chest up against the railing.

Ok, to be fair, he was right. The railing was entirely too high for either of us to bend over.

Flynn kicked my legs wider and wrapped one arm around me to spread his long, talented fingers over my chest. His other hand tugged at my belt while he growled in my ear.

"I can't bend you over it," he murmured, "But I'll shove you up against it. Make you watch the city while you take my dick. Is that what you want, Shark? You want me to be big? You want me to be strong?"

I couldn't put words together as he worked a hand down the front of my pants to play with the tip of my cock. I moaned and nodded. Flynn dragged my jeans down to my knees and possessively squeezed my ass.

"Shark, tell me if I'm going too hard," he murmured into my ear. "I can always be a good boy. I don't mind."

Oh, gods. My thoughts were distant, driven away by his hands on my skin and the ease with which he manipulated my body. With his eager, sweet nature, it was so easy to forget our size difference. The way his hand spanned nearly the full width of my chest had my heart thumping.

"Bunny, fuck," I gasped. "Fuck, keep going."

He growled hungrily in response to my breathless begging. He brought his hand up to my mouth, slipping his fingers inside for me to suck. He kept his arm locked around my chest and slid those wet fingers down my crack to tease my hole. A whimper escaped my chest as he pressed down, working one finger into me and nipping at the back of my neck at the same time.

I wasn't usually willing to give up control to a partner, but Flynn was different. He loved me so eagerly and so completely. It was a privilege to experience his sweet, urgent desperation. He stretched me gently, adding more spit as he went, I moaned softly, pressing back on him to beg for more.

"Bunny, fuck me," I whined. "It's enough, just fuck me."

"Let me get the lube," he started. I cut him off by reaching back over my shoulder to tangle my fingers in his hair.

"Now," I groaned.

I felt his hot, slick head at my entrance, pressing gently but insistently while he sucked what was sure to be a bruise just under my ear. Flynn grunted when he eased in that first inch, trembling behind me. I left one hand tangled in his hair and braced the other against the railing to meet his slow descent.

There was a burn from the stretch, but that was nothing compared to the mind blowing way he filled me. We both moaned when his hips finally, finally met the cheeks of my ass. He waited there for me to adjust, stroking my back and murmuring the most poetic praise into my ears.

I started us moving again, gently at first, then growing in urgency. The glass in front of me was warm from the sun, the city humid with summer heat even in the darkness of night. I panted in that heavy air as Flynn took over thrusting into me.

The hand that was holding me tight by my chest drifted lower to spread heavily on my stomach. I gasped at the pressure. Flynn giggled breathlessly and pushed down harder. The angle and the sheer size of his dick drove him ruthlessly over my prostate. Now, with the added external pressure of his hand, it was like jolts of electricity gathering in my gut.

"Sh-shit," I stammered. "Right there, like that."

I felt his other hand move towards my own dripping, straining erection, but I shook my head.

"Bunny, please, just like this," I gasped. "I think I can, just keep going."

He groaned, but he did exactly as I asked, fucking me and holding my weakening body up between his chest and the glass. It was different when that gathering orgasm finally crested. Deeper, undeniable, more like a devastating tsunami than the crashing of waves. My head was all static and my own heartbeat.

I didn't even feel Flynn cum. My only hint in the middle of that overwhelming abyss was the way his arms locked around me and his breath hitched in my ear. He held me there, buried so deep that I was certain he was touching my lungs, and tenderly kissing along my neck.

"Fuck," I gasped. "That was a first."

Flynn's surprised laugh was a bubbly, bright melody ringing out over the sounds of the busy city below.

...

Flynn

Owen was working hard to dig up our next move. I wasn't much help with that. I spent my time reading and making notes in my grimoire, but I couldn't shake off the unsettling wrongness in the air.

I eventually gave up on trying to read and, instead, told Owen I was going out to walk. I followed that nauseating vibe of a bad omen out onto the street. We were staying in a tall building clad in sheets of glass near the city center. It was high summer, making those busy streets into an oven of asphalt, concrete, and exhaust fumes. I turned south, walking away from the dense high rises to the part of the city that had more warehouses and manufacturing than glimmering glass. Beyond that was thick, green woods lining the highways and clustering the drainage ditches behind buildings. It was still hot under the trees, but I much preferred the smell of the forest clinging to the humid, stagnant air over the chemical burn of downtown.

My head was aching with the effort of pinpointing exactly where the wrongness was coming from. Whatever was causing the feeling was well hidden. My feet took me to the train tracks that crisscrossed the area in a mostly hidden network of paths. I hopped the fence and crunched over the gravel embankment. I knew the large train yard was tucked away about a mile down those tracks from the months I spent sneaking in there to paint the cars. I stood in the center of the tracks and waited for some hint of where to go, but none came. The trail I followed was fading away to a dull, eerie air of disquiet again.

I waited while the steamy morning stretched into late afternoon with my body feeling worse and worse. I ignored that. I would have stood there all night if not for the distant rumble of an approaching train. Breaking me out of custody would be a waste of Owen's time when he had more important work to do, so I slipped off into the trees before I could be spotted.

I got back to the room feeling distant, unsettled, and sweaty. Owen was still sitting on the floor with his laptop balanced on his knees, his glasses glazed with the reflection of the screen, and his big headphones blocking out the world. He twitched and looked up at me with a smile that melted quickly off his pretty face.

"Bun? You ok?" he asked as he pushed his headphones down.

"Ah, yeah," I mumbled. "It's just hot out there."

The bathroom in that room was fancy, because Owen seemed to think offering me a combo tub and shower would be an unforgivable sin. I stripped off my soaked clothes down to my boxers and splashed cool water on my face from the sink. Thoughts felt inaccessible under the insistent pressure of whatever unplaceable error had settled in the city. Dizzying vertigo from trying so hard to find it was settling between my ears.

The tiled floor beckoned me with promising coolness. I stretched out on my stomach, pressing my cheek to the tile and closing my eyes. A shower sounded horrendous. As much as I wanted to rinse the sweat from my skin, the idea of stepping into an even hotter, steamier glass box made me nauseous.

I was still on the floor when a cool, wet washcloth draped over my neck. Opening my eyes revealed Owen on his knees next to me looking concerned. I shivered as he gently ran that cold cloth down my back.

"Hey, I'm ok," I said. "I just need to cool off."

He frowned and cast a dubious look at me.

"I've seen you wear your full denim cover up gear in worse heat than this," he said. "What's going on?"

"I tried to follow that weird feeling, but the trail just stopped," I said. "Now I feel like, um, like an ear infection without the pain? Dizzy. Sick. Hot."

"Stay right there. Don't try to stand up," he said and briefly left me. He came back with the tiny, $10 water bottles from the mini bar. "Can you sit up enough to drink some water?"

I pushed myself up with a pathetic whimper to lean on the cold porcelain of the big garden tub and sip the water. It tasted like stomach acid, but I forced down a few mouthfuls that settled uneasily in my stomach. Owen gently pushed me back to lay on the tile and started to wipe the sweat off my skin. I closed my eyes again and let him take over.

...

Owen

Bunny didn't like when I overreacted to the occasionally physically debilitating effects of his magic, but whatever he did that day had him all but delirious. I would have believed heat exhaustion if not for my first hand knowledge of his deity-powered resistance to pretty much anything. I got him cleaned up and put him in bed.

"Did you find anything on Elijah?" he mumbled with his face buried in the pillows.

"The plates are fake or stolen, but I tapped enough surveillance cameras to track it," I told him. "It went out to the, um, the CSX yard? The south train yard, per the internet."

Flynn sat up suddenly. The color dropped from his face and he clenched his eyes shut, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the bed again.

"Whoah, Bun," I murmured and gently rubbed his back. "Take it easy."

"That trail I was following? I lost it on the way to the train yard," he told me.

"Do you think that means something?" I asked.

"Nothing is coincidence," he mumbled. "Chaos self organizes. Spontaneous order. Patterns and connections control the universe."

"Well, I'll go check the train yard tonight," I told him. "Their cameras are either stored locally or analog."

"I'll come," Flynn said immediately.

"Not like that you won't," I told him firmly. "And it looks like you shouldn't go back there at all."

"There's something out there," he said. "Something dangerous. Give me until sundown, I'll be ready to go."

I doubted that, but I wanted him to sleep, not argue. I got my laptop and sat on the other side of the bed. Flynn rested his hand on my knee and fell asleep in an ungainly pile of long limbs.

...

Flynn

I woke up feeling not quite perfect, but a lot less drained than I was earlier. Owen was dubious, but he didn't try to make me stay behind. On a whim, I grabbed my backpack. It would always be better to have my paint and markers if I needed them. Drawing or spraying a spell was always faster than carving with my knife.

I took Owen to the trails behind the Wal Mart that had been lined with makeshift shelters when I lived there. Those were cleared out at some point, but I suspected others moved in. I knew for certain that the trails led down to the train yard and no one who saw us out there would care.

"Are you going to be ok going back there?" he asked me as we walked. Just as I guessed, the trails were once again lined with the tents and encampments of the local unhoused population. A few looked up as we passed, most ignored us.

"I'm not trying to follow it this time," I said. "It feels bad, but I'm not using up any energy to investigate it."

"Hm, tell me if we need to leave," Shark said firmly. "I can't carry you out of these woods, Bun. You have to pay attention so you can walk out on your own."

"I'm paying attention," I assured him. "I'll be fine."

We were quiet in the deepening evening. Lightning bugs were pulsing in their silent dances among the shrubs. Cicadas droned in the trees. Not too far off from that little slice of nature, I could hear the interstate rumbling and growling with vehicles.

The disquieting feeling was there, but I wasn't forcing it. I had the impression of holding sand in my fist, so I didn't grasp. I was only halfway paying attention when we got to the yard.

It never really shut down, exactly. There was always someone there. But night was a skeleton crew that was generally confined to the small office building or the maintenance shop. Owen looked up at the cameras mounted on poles and sides of buildings around the area from our cover in the trees.

"Definitely analog cameras," he whispered. "We'll be lucky if I can access the tapes and even luckier they keep those recordings longer than a few days."

We made our way around the sheltered perimeter to look at the office building from a few different angles. Owen huffed an almost silent chuckle and pointed at the employee parking lot.

"I found Cinderella," he said, indicating a small sedan. "That's better than cameras. Stay here, I'm going to bug it."

A tickle of nausea was grumbling in my stomach. That car was bad news. It slowly dawned on me that the car was the bad news. I let the feeling come to me instead of trying to chase it, and it was so, so clear. Something occluded, but too wrong to truly hide from anyone with enhanced intuition like mine.

"That car is what's wrong," I whispered urgently. "It's the rotten thing in the crawlspace."

"The car? Then I definitely need to bug it," he said and turned to the lot. I grabbed him and shook my head.

"No, don't touch it. I'll do it," I said. Owen frowned at me and glanced at the office. He dug in his pockets for a small, round bit of metal and plastic. He pressed it between his fingers until a faint green light blinked, then handed it to me.

"There's a magnet on the bottom. Stick it up in the back wheel well," he instructed me. "Up high as you can reach and as sheltered as possible."

I nodded, but my heart was pounding in my ears along with the waves of wrong coming off the car. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a black shape swooped down between us.

"Fuck," Owen hissed. "Are the crows following you now?" The crow in question eyed me, clicking its beak softly.

"They're diurnal," I mumbled. "Crows, corvids, they don't fly around at night."

"That one does," Owen pointed out. "Bunny, we need to decide who's bugging that car and get out of here. Worry about the crow being out past its bedtime later."

"I am," I said, shaking off the weirdness and trying to focus on anything but the way my stomach was belching acid into my chest.

The crow squawked when I started towards the lot. It briefly, awkwardly flew up a few feet to bump my backpack, then landed in front of me again to eye me meaningfully. I pulled the little aluminum travel blessing medallion from the front pocket and held it out.

"This?" I asked softly. Maybe talking to a crow is a dumb thing to do. I generally liked to assume just because creatures didn't think or speak like me didn't mean they weren't intelligent enough to understand.

The crow squawked in a way that I took to be approval, then flew off into the night. I traced its path up to the branches above. An unpleasant jolt of unease hit me as I realized the limbs were lined with silent, still feathered bodies. They watched us with their black marble eyes, blending into the blackness above.

I stuck the medallion between my teeth to keep it safe, took the device Owen gave me in my fist, and started on my trip through the pockets of darkness.

...

Owen

Whatever was going on with the crows had my hair standing on end. Sure, I'd seen Flynn coexisting and interacting peacefully with plenty of creatures in our travels. The various animals we came across didn't flee him like they would a typical person, and he treated them almost like colleagues. Greeting them politely, giving them respect and space, trying to help when it seemed they needed it. He paid attention to them in a way I didn't really understand. I normally found it charming, but the birds were acting fucking weird.

The black feathered murder above me watched Flynn silently slip from car to truck to car on his way to the target. Flynn seemed to think the birds were friendly, so I tried not to think of them as an ill omen.

Flynn faltered when he got to that car, but he placed the tracker just like I told him. I watched with a knot of fear in my chest as he wiped his hands over his face and shook his head as if to clear it. He stumbled on his way back, but he reached me at the treeline. He sank down to the dirt and shuddered.

"Bunny, we have to get moving," I whispered urgently. I hauled him back up to his feet. "Come on, you can rest once we're over the fence."

He nodded and righted himself. We made it over the fence and back to the trails. Flynn refused to stop there. He stumbled back to our rented car and sat heavily in the passenger seat.

"What just happened?" I asked him.

Flynn had his head down. He jerked up at movement outside the windshield. Another crow was perched on the hood of the car, tapping at the glass.

"Shark," he said roughly, "Turn the car on so I can roll the window down."

I did as he asked. The power window on his side slid down into the door. The crow immediately flew in and settled on the dashboard.

"Are we... keeping the bird?" I asked warily.

"She knows something important." That was all he said before pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead against them.

"Bunny," I started, but he cut me off.

"Give me a second," he mumbled. "I'll explain it, but my head is fuzzy."

"Ok," I said softly. I stroked his back for a moment, side eyed the bird making itself comfortable on the dashboard, and started back to the hotel.

"I'm not supposed to notice that car," Flynn quietly said after several tense, silent minutes. "It's so heavily occluded. I'd guess most acolytes wouldn't notice it, but anyone like me, um, like zealots blessed with intuition who aren't limited by a temple, can feel the danger under it. There's something sinister going on that the occlusions can't fully hide. Something awful happened to Elijah."

"I'll track it, see where the car goes," I promised. "I'll do everything I can to find the kid."

Flynn nodded and went quiet again. He was looking at the bird where it was sitting.

"Who are you serving?" he said quietly. "Is Elijah's patron looking for him?"

The crow made no response.

...

Elijah

I prayed, but there was no answer from the god I promised to still serve. I thought Phoebus agreed to me escaping the chains of the oracle farm, but I wasn't in direct contact because of the limits placed on me by the temple. Maybe I got that wrong. I opened my mind to be a conduit to any deity. None answered. I was forsaken. I wondered if I would starve to death, left alone in that metal tomb, forgotten and unmourned.

Dehydration dried my tears and silenced the shout in my raw, aching throat. Hunger dulled from a roar to a distant, constant void. I curled up in the dirt. Listless. Lost. More exhausted than seemed right for the amount of time I'd calculated.

I might have been wrong about the time, though.

I was near the edge of delirium when a small door slid open at the bottom of the door. A plastic bin was shoved inside, then the door snapped shut. I dragged myself to the bin to find three bottles of water and a handful of protein bars.

"Thank you, lord," I whispered, hoping this bounty was his favor again.

A part of me whispered darkly that it couldn't be true.

...

Flynn

The crow flitted away when Owen parked in the parking garage near our hotel. I wasn't surprised at all to find her waiting impatiently on the balcony when we got up to the room. She settled on the headboard when I let her in.

Owen fussed over me until I proved I had shaken off the weird, rotten feeling. He seemed dubious, but he left me alone to get to work setting up tracking on the car.

The next morning, Owen and I rose from an uneasy sleep. He arched an eyebrow at the crow where she still snoozed on the headboard. I pulled him into my arms to enjoy the safety and comfort of his presence.

"So the crow is staying?" he asked me. He ran his fingertips over my arms, raising goosebumps and chuckling to himself.

"That's up to her," I said.

Allowing the presence of another deity's envoy is up to me.

My goddess was speaking quietly, but I felt Owen tense up in pain. I covered Owen's eyes and struggled in the sheets to kneel there on the mattress. The crow cawed irritably.

"Lady, she's aiding us in our search," I said. "Maybe Elijah isn't an oathbreaker?"

Then the messenger can look after his own worshippers. Why should I share the blessings I've given you with another god's toy?

"I just want to help," I gritted out over the constriction of my throat. "He's in trouble and he's just a kid. I can help him."

You are kind, zealot. It's not a quality I value, but you have proven yourself to be devout. I'll allow you to indulge it. Keep the bird and go save the twin's prophet.

"Thank you for your mercy, lady," I answered obediently.

The pressure of her presence was gone as quickly as it settled over us. I helped Owen sit up and held his cheeks in my palms.

"I'm sorry, Shark," I murmured. "Are you ok?"

He chuckled roughly and smirked, reaching for me to kiss my forehead.

"I'm getting used to it," he said. "Want to decode what she just said for me?"

I looked at the crow thoughtfully, fitting clues together.

"The messenger. The twin. A god of prophecy who sends speaks through crows," I said. "Sounds like the bright one. Um, Phoebus. I think Elijah didn't break his oath, but something is stopping his patron from finding him. So Phoebus is sending hints for me."

"Ugh," Owen scoffed. "All the riddles and hints. He can't just tell you what you need? You know how to survive talking to gods."

"Other gods won't speak to me directly, I'm claimed," I said. "It would be like letting himself into my lady's house and sleeping in her bed. She wouldn't take it lightly."

Owen rolled his eyes and climbed out of bed to check whatever he left running on his laptop.

"Ooh, looks like the car is on the move. Once it settles somewhere besides the train yard, we'll go check it out," he said, sounding pleased. "Come take a shower with me. The bird can't come."

Owen dragged me to the bathroom and pointedly closed the door. In the gleaming crystal and marble box of the shower, he took over like he always did. I relaxed under his attention, sitting on the tiles with my head tilted back while he massaged shampoo in my hair.

"Bun, maybe you should sit out on the next part," Owen said quietly.

"No. I'm not doing that," I said firmly. "I'll be fine. I won't do anything stupid. But this is something magical and, whatever it is, it's dangerous."

"I thought you would say that," he sighed. "I had to at least float the idea."

"I'll be a honey badger," I told him.

"I think that's me," Owen laughed. "Small and vicious, yeah?"

"Well, yeah, but I meant their resistance to poison. I'll ward myself better. I'll be ready now that I have a better idea of what to expect."

"You'll be a turtle," he suggested. "What are those little armoured guys you like so much? Like nervous armadillos? You'll be one of those."

"Pangolins. That's the idea," I agreed.

I told him facts about armadillos and pangolins and honey badgers to distract myself from the anxiety in my heart. I didn't want to have a casual, pleasant morning. I wanted to save Elijah from what I was more and more sure was a terrible fate.

Owen knew. Of course he knew. He let me chatter as he washed us both and dried me off with one of the pristine, fluffy, white towels. He prodded me through brushing my teeth and raking my fingers through my hair to tame it.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I'm going as fast as I can."

"I know you are," I sighed. "I know."

...

Owen

That car puttered around the city for hours. I kept one eye on my tracking program and the other on Flynn. He was nervous and worried. That sweet boy. His heart was breaking for a kid he'd never even met.

He was sitting cross-legged on the bed with the crow on his shoulder. It seemed to be watching him as he looked through his notebooks, the few esoteric reference books he had collected, and made marks on his skin with a felt tipped pen. The bird occasionally made little sounds that Flynn replied to as though they were conferring on his work.

I was tracking the car traveling south on I-65 when a message popped up on my computer. I scoffed after I read it.

"Lucas is fishing for my help," I said.

Flynn pulled himself from his concentration and gently shooed the bird off his shoulder to come read the message.

"Well, that's good news, right?" he asked. "Sounds like he hit a dead end."

"Yeah, it's great news," I confirmed. "I'll send him on a goose chase."

The car had stopped in a wooded, rural area nearly two hours south of Nashville by the time I finished crafting some bullshit for Lucas. From the satellite imagery I could find, the place looked like an active cattle farm dotted with a large number of small sheds, grain bins, and similar small structures connected by makeshift dirt roads.

"I think we have a place to check out," I said.

Flynn looked at the image for a moment with his brows furrowed, then went back to his pile of notebooks to rip out a piece of paper. Holding that paper over my screen so the ghostly image could shine through, he marked each small structure and then the dirt paths that connected them.

"Bun? What's going on?" I questioned as he set the paper on the desk beside me to study it.

"It's incomplete," he mumbled.

"What's incomplete?" I asked. Flynn didn't answer if he even heard me. He was off, flipping through his books and notes and shaking his head. I put my hand on top of the page he was trying to read and gently tilted his chin up to look at me.

"Explain," I said firmly. "What do you see?"

"Um," he blinked at me and tapped the open book he held. "It's a generator array. It draws power inward to the center, but it's pointless alone. Like combustion without the rest of the engine."

He paused and looked at the picture on my laptop again. He tapped what appeared to be a large barn in the middle of the screen.

"It has to be in there. Something big, in there," he said. "Which, um, that definitely means there are going to be a lot more people who need help. It won't just be Elijah."

"Why do you say that?" I urged him. "Pretend I'm stupid, Bunny. Explain whatever is so obvious."

"It's called a generator array, but think of it as a leech ring," he said slowly. He grimaced and looked down at the paper he traced the layout on. "The small outbuildings are the sources it's drawing from. Batteries. Wells of power. A prodigy oracle would make a great well, but an array this big couldn't be powered with just one talented devotee. Each shed has to have a sacrificial lamb inside with spells to hide them. They can't last very long in there. That's why that car is out hunting."

"Fuck," I muttered. I quickly counted up the small sheds and silos that Flynn marked. "What needs a baker's dozen worth of lambs?"

"Something awful," Flynn answered softly. "Something bad enough to bury in enough occlusions to hide a whole temple."

"We go tonight," I said.

...

Flynn

The farm wasn't hidden at all. At least, not magically. It was so far off any beaten path that it likely went unnoticed simply by lack of traffic.

We rode mostly in silence. The paint cans in my backpack rattled softly between my feet with the bumpy roads. Owen had disappeared for a bit that afternoon and returned with a heavy wooden baseball bat for himself. He'd offered to get me something, but I had a strong feeling that I would be on magic defense that night.

My intuition was screaming at me. The feeling in my soul that was usually a friendly nudge in the right direction or a gentle prick of warning was a klaxon blaring in my head as the miles disappeared behind us.

"Bun? If I pull off a mile or two out, can you get us there through the woods?" Owen asked.

"Yeah," I said shakily. "I can find it."

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I could avoid going there if I tried. Beyond those clanging alarm bells, I felt a deep, sick dread. I had no doubt we were about to walk into something that would haunt me, but I was just as sure there were people suffering who needed help. My feet were going to take me there no matter what.

I couldn't keep up enough of a train of thought to give Owen any instructions. Luckily, he followed silently without prompting. The bird stayed in the trees, flitting from branch to branch above as we made our way.

Normally, I felt very comfortable in the woods at any time of day or night. I liked the way the forest changed with the hours, the way dancing spots of sunshine would be exchanged for floating lightning bugs as the sky darkened above. I loved hearing the birds and catching glimpses of wildlife. The trees always felt like home for as long as I could remember.

These trees, though, they didn't want to be there, either. The place was tainted with twisted magic. An out of place fetid, swampy smell hung around us in the humid air. Whatever was in the center of that farm was leaking into the soil and spoiling the air. The woods were silent. All life that could flee had done so long ago. I strongly doubted even the earthworms remained beneath our feet.

I stopped Owen with a gesture a few yards from clearing the treeline. He pulled out his phone, tapped a few things, then gave me a wicked grin.

"Car's leaving," he said quietly. "Doesn't mean the place is clear, but that's one less person at least."

I rested a hand on a nearby tree to steady myself. A surprised, disgusted gag rose in my throat at the spongey, oily texture of the bark. Upon closer inspection, the trees appeared to be rotting alive.

"Shark," I whispered. "If I go for the barn, will you get the people out of the other buildings?"

"You know there's no way in hell I'm letting that happen," he answered.

"It was worth a try," I sighed. "You have to listen to me in there. Something in that barn is poisoning this whole forest. We have to destroy it."

I showed him the decaying trees and the putrid, oily mess left on my hand. He squinted at the bark and poked at it. I felt a swell of nausea when his questing digit sank into the surface as though the tree was skimmed in muck. Owen frowned and wiped his hands off on his jeans.

"Barn first, then?" he said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Will your goddess help us?"

"Maybe," I answered honestly. "She doesn't go for philanthropy. She won't really care about helping those people or saving these trees. I don't think she will let me die, though, and she won't stop me from using my blessings."

"How magnanimous of her," Owen scoffed.

I didn't answer that. We started towards the barn, but the bird swooped down at my face and chattered angrily. I instinctively covered my head and put a hand out to stop Owen from defending me with his bat.

"Go find Elijah. Let him know his god didn't forsake him," I told the crow. "I can't mess with the array until I know what I'm dealing with. We'll be out to open the doors as soon as we can."

The crow cawed at me, but it flew off into the darkness.

"I'm going to use that fucking bird for batting practice if it attacks you again," Owen growled as he inspected my face and scalp for wounds with his fingers.

"I'm ok," I said. "Let's go."

...

Owen

I didn't need Flynn to tell me something was wrong in those woods. Even before he pointed out that the trees were fucking melting, my nerves were wound tight. It was eerie and quiet in a way that made our footsteps sound like gunfire and the whole place smelled like death.

Flynn looked halfway to a trance when we crept across the first dirt track that made up the symbol he called a leech ring. It was hot that night, but not hot enough to explain the beads of sweat gathering on his face. Still, he moved silently through the shadows with me.

I kept an eye out for any kind of surveillance. My scanners already proved the place to be free of any wireless signals. I didn't spot anything else before Flynn stopped abruptly.

He pointed at the ground where a partially buried line of stones carved with sketchy symbols appeared to make an inner ring between the outbuildings and the barn. He leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

"It's an alarm," he said. "It's going to tip off anyone in that barn when we cross it."

"Then we use that to our advantage. I'll trip it, you stay back for an ambush," I suggested.

"Anyone in there is probably armed," Flynn pointed out.

"I'm armed," I said cheekily and showed him the bat.

"With guns, Shark," he sighed. "Or with magic. Or both. I'll trip it and run."

"Bunny-" I started to argue, but he cut me off.

"They can't catch me," he assured me. "Especially if I get them out to the woods. I play fox, you go be a hawk."

"Tell me without the animals," I whispered, but I couldn't help but smile. "What do foxes and hawks have to do with this?"

"I'll keep them hunting for me, you go see what's in that barn," he amended. "I'll get them lost in the trees, double back and hopefully buy myself enough time to get in there and dismantle whatever it is."

"And when they come back to the barn?" I pressed. I already hated the idea of Bunny running off into the woods alone with unknown enemies on his heels.

"I ward the two of us, reverse the leech, and crank it up as high as I can," he said grimly. "I'd do that now, but that might kill all of us depending on what's in that barn"

I took a long, shaky breath to try to steady myself. I wanted to refuse, but I didn't see any better way.

"You have to come back to me," I whispered. I pulled him down to look into his dark eyes. "You have to. I won't forgive you if you die out there."

"I'm coming back," he assured me. "I promise. Don't touch anything in that barn until I get there."

"Run fast, Rabbit."

...

Flynn

The tension in my body was a gross mimicry of the jittery, excited nerves I felt when I painted walls for my goddess. Once I was sure that Owen was safely tucked out of sight, I stepped over the line of stones.

Loud was an understatement. The noise that split the air the moment my boots hit the dirt was startling enough that I faltered. The point was probably both surprise and pain, but I was more than used to operating at full focus under the agony of my lady's blessings. I waited long enough to be sure I would be spotted, then took off at a full sprint towards the trees.

Two following. Just two. I could definitely turn two around in the dark forest and get back to Owen.

Left.

I obeyed immediately, veering off my beeline to the trees just as a gunshot sounded off loudly enough to overcome the ringing in my ears.

"Glory," I panted in gratitude to my goddess. There was that bubbly, warm pressure that generally indicated amusement. Well, at least she was enjoying the show. She would definitely help me if she found this entertaining.

I made it to the cover of the trees and slowed my pace enough for my pursuers to catch sight of me again. There was shouting, but my ears were blown by the alarm. I hoped the ringing would clear out soon. It would be a lot easier to accomplish my next steps if I could hear.

I took off again, taking random turns and leading the two people deeper into the forest. I ducked down into a culvert at one point and listened hard. Between the burst of sound from the alarm and the general haze of danger hanging around the farm, my senses were fried. Still, I waited and I listened. The ringing in my ears waned as my heartbeat slowed. The familiar nudge of my intuition insisted I stay down and quiet.

I took the time to scratch a sigil into the dirt at my feet. That wasn't the best way to do it, the spell would likely wipe itself out quick in such an unstable medium, but I'd left my noisy, rattly backpack full of paint with Owen.

I peeked out at the two people running after me as they passed. Two men, it seemed, both stout and athletic enough to run after me. Once they passed, I slipped back the other way, stopping to leave the same sigil I'd carved into the dirt in the spongy bark of several dying trees as I made a rambling path back to the farm.

I touched the last one I drew at the treeline, bracing myself against the pain of activating the whole chain of illusions. Those weren't going to last very long, but my spells would have them chasing ghosts out in the trees for as long as the dirt and decayed bark could hold out.

With that done, I sprinted back to the barn.

...

Owen

Well, I didn't know exactly what all the magic Flynn explained was, but seeing the inside of the barn shed plenty of light on the end goal. The esoteric symbols on the floor meant nothing to me. The tidy, white packages stacked in the center of the symbol and on shelves lining the walls were no mystery.

Bliss, the designer drug that combined a number of street drugs with magic. Rumor said it was the ultimate high. I'd seen enough scarred, burned veins and brain dead victims of bad batches to avoid it all together. I was surprised to see someone manufacturing it in the US. That was normally done in countries more willing to take a cut and look the other way.

There wasn't much I could do to the drugs without Flynn, so I rooted around the place for anything I might find useful later. A laptop, a pile of outdated cellphones, and a few loose hard drives were out on a table against the wall. I swept those into Flynn's backpack.

Flynn stopped dead in the doorway, panting lightly but otherwise untouched. He eyed the pile and backed up.

"Fuck. Ok. I can't go in there," he said. "Too many spells on my skin. Lithium and water. Gas and matches."

"Then we bust the prisoners out and try to run?" I suggested. I didn't love that idea.

"You bust them out, get them outside the generator array. I'll reverse it and add a shield," Flynn said, glancing over his shoulder at the trees. "It'll be volatile with the bliss in the middle. Don't leave anyone inside the circle. Do it fast. Those guys are chasing my illusions out in the woods, but that won't last very long."

I snatched a ring of keys hanging on the wall and started towards the closest shed.

...

Elijah

A horrible, shrieking sound jolted me from an uneasy sleep. It stopped almost as quickly as it started, but my exhausted, malnourished heart refused to slow down in the pool of adrenaline. Tapping at my door drew my attention. The chicken wire buried at the doorway, probably intended to keep me from digging out, rattled.

I lay down on the dirt and tilted my head to peek below the door. Claws. Scales. Inky black feathers. A messenger of Phoebus.

I would have cried in gratitude if I could. All I managed was to press my face into the dirt and shudder. A black beak poked curiously below the door. Brushing it with my fingers felt like cool aloe on sunburned skin.

"My lord," I whispered. "You came for me."

Time didn't mean much to me anymore. I lay there with my fingers on the bird's beak until the door rattled again and the crow moved away. My heart ached at losing her touch, but that didn't last long. The door swung open to reveal two strangers who definitely didn't look like acolytes of Phoebus.

The shorter of the two, dressed in bland grays and black, pushed his glasses up on his nose and knelt beside me. The taller one dashed off.

"Hey, Elijah," he said softly. "It was hard as fuck to find you. Come on, up. We have to get you outside this generator thing before Bunny blows the place sky high."

"Hey!"

I knew that gruff voice that came out of the nearby treeline. I'd heard it plenty of times inside that metal cage. I cringed in on myself, too tired and too afraid to fight anymore.

The crow shot past us, straight for the man's face. That was apparently all the distraction the dark haired stranger needed. He was fast and armed with a bat. My captor crumpled to the ground after a series of sickening, wet swings.

"Get up. Right now," he said when he turned back to me with the bloody bat clutched in one hand. "We're out of time."

The tall guy sprinted back up. I realized then that he had a spray paint can in his hands.

"Bun, help me get him out of the ring," the shorter guy said. "He's worse off than the others."

I was unceremoniously scooped up in the tall guy's arms. Crossing the threshold out into the night was like plunging into a warm bath on a bitterly cold day. My skin tingled and my heart raced as the love of my lord enveloped me once again. An overwhelmed, relieved sob of gratitude escaped me.

I wasn't alone. I wasn't forsaken.

And Phoebus was furious.

I found myself gently deposited next my battered captor. I wasn't sure if he was alive. There wasn't much left of his face. The tall guy winced and swallowed hard before hooking his arms under the man's arms and dragging him over the dirt path that connected my cell to the next one.

"Where's the other one?" he panted.

"Don't know," said the small guy. "That one popped out of the trees like a fucking jack in the box."

"My illusions are wearing off," said the tall guy. "Eyes sharp. Be a hawk."

More people stumbled from both directions. My fellow prisoners by their malnourished bodies and filthy clothes.

"Everyone here? No one's inside?" the tall guy confirmed. There was weak assent from the gathered, battered crowd.

"Do it now. We're easy targets here," the short guy said.

The tall one nodded and knelt beside the dirt path. There was paint on the ground that changed the array. I couldn't place the meaning in my hazy fatigue. I heard him shudder out a groan as he cast that spell. Whatever it was, whoever he was, his magic was heavy. The air felt suffocating. My skin crawled with cold spiders of discomfort. That might have gone on a lot longer than I realized, because I lost all sense of myself when the barn exploded.

...

Flynn

I prayed my quick edits to reverse and add containment to the ring would work. I either did it right or my goddess took mercy on us, because the rush of magic-laced fire hit the ring and ran up it as though an invisible dome had been tipped over the top of the farm.

I fought to hold the spell while that deadly fire and smoke roiled inside it. My joints ached, my muscles spasmed to rictus. My heart was pounding like a desperate animal in the cage of my skeleton.

Down, zealot.

I dropped flat to the ground. The sound of a gunshot was followed by a wild jolt as the bullet interrupted my spell, passing through the barrier like ballistics gel. I sank my fingertips into the dirt and felt my jaw lock up on a scream.

I couldn't look back. I couldn't warn Owen. The attacker was a threat, but the poisonous fire was certain, agonizing death if I lost control of it. I had to trust him to handle it.

I felt hands on my back. People I couldn't see through the tears in my eyes knelt on either side of me. A cool, refreshing wave washed over me, lifting some of the pain from my joints and reinforcing my grip on the spell. Healers. Real healers. Ones who could lift my fatigue and help me catch a second wind, not just headstrong idiots like me who could force it through study and a willingness to endure pain.

I gasped in relief and doubled down on the spell.

...

Owen

That asshole shot at my Bunny. Again. He tried to kill my man again. Fury blinded me, I snarled and stepped between Flynn and the treeline, scanning fruitlessly for movement.

I don't know what I hoped to accomplish against an armed assailant, hidden yards away in the trees, and armed only with a bat. Luck was on our side, though.

Or, I suppose, the gods were on our side.

It didn't occur to me that I had thirteen talented acolytes standing with me. Thirteen beloved devotees, chosen for this torture specifically because they were prodigies, who had been cut off from their deities and abused by the man in the woods. There was more fury in that clearing than just mine.

Those were temple-regulated acolytes, so they weren't like Flynn. They were prohibited by international law from learning anything that could be used as a weapon, but they had useful blessings nonetheless. Soft prayers began around me as the acolytes went to work.

The woman next to me laid a cold hand on my arm. I felt a whisper of the jittery, crawling sensation I associated with Flynn beefing up the wards he laid in my skin. Elijah yanked both me and the woman down by the backs of our shirts just as another shot rang out.

The crow was off again, darting towards the woods. A shout of dismay followed a blindingly bright flash of light among the trees. I heard Elijah laugh behind me, a delirious, out of place sound I couldn't figure out.

"He lost the gun," Elijah reported. "Go now before he finds it."

I'd never been one to trust oracles. They spoke in riddles and leaned in favor of earning money for their temple over telling truths. Desperate times, though, and Bunny needed my protection so he could focus on the hard part. I dashed to my feet and sprinted for the trees, hoping that Elijah was right and I wasn't just an easy target.

I found the man still dazzled by the blinding flash of light. He was on the ground, pawing through the litter of leaves in search of his lost weapon. The crow squawked and dove for his head again. I didn't want to harm the bird with a misaimed swing of my bat, so I launched a hard kick at his chest to knock him back.

The man snarled in pain, but he wasn't winded enough by my kick to stay down. I scrambled back from his unexpected lunge as he regained his feet.

Shit. I missed my opening.

"You little piece of shit," he growled. "Who the fuck even are you?"

"I'm a shark," I answered.

The man scoffed, looking me up and down dismissively. He was a lot bigger than me, broad and dangerous looking. The nondescript jeans and tee shirt he wore were streaked in mud, leaves, and the gunk from the melting trees. He advanced on me.

He probably expected me to retreat. I obviously wasn't a fighter and I'd already missed an easy swing on his head. I surprised him, instead, jumping forward and taking a hard swing. He dodged me, falling back and off balance enough for me to get him on the backswing.

That wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but I staggered him. I stayed on offense, unwilling to miss my second opening. The next swing got his arm where he had raised them to protect his head. I heard the wood connect to bone with a sickening crunch followed by a shout of pain.

He was down. I had to strike immediately.

I would never have called myself lucky. Luck was usually reserved for people who prayed the right way and diligently left their little offerings on every shrine they passed. I wouldn't have called myself unlucky, either. The higher powers of all kinds generally ignored me and I liked it that way.

Considering the sound that rang out in those woods as I dove forward again, I might have crossed the wrong deity somewhere along the way. A crack like a boom of thunder blew out my hearing and shattered the eerie quiet, filling the space around us with a flash of light.

Ah, shit.

I knocked him back in the perfect spot to regain his gun.

...

Flynn

That poisonous inferno burned through the oxygen inside the barrier fast. When it was nothing but smoldering grass and the glowing debris of the barn, I released the spell and leaned forward to press my face to the dirt.

"Glory," I whispered. "Thank you, lady."

On your feet, she commanded. Your heretic is about to make a big mistake.

I scrambled to my feet in a panic before I realized I had no idea where Owen had gone. I crouched in front of Elijah on the ground where he was kneeling in prayer and grabbed his shoulders as gently as I could manage in my panic.

"Where's Owen? The other guy, glasses, hoodie, dark hair," I said urgently. "He's-"

A shot rang out from the woods. I stopped trying to get information and ran towards the sound. Sprinting was hard after the effort of containing that fire. I couldn't have done it at all if not for the healers helping me earlier. My heart objected to further demands. I ignored that to send up a prayer, begging for Owen's safety as I let my feet carry me where I needed to be.

I skidded into the small clearing where Owen was, thankfully, still on his feet. He had one hand pressed to the opposite shoulder, but that wasn't enough to staunch the flow of blood there. He was panting and shaking, but my brave shark was staring down the barrel of a large, black pistol with open fury.

I didn't wait. The sigils on my arms included single-shot offensive spells. I tapped one to activate it. Boiling pain on my skin preceded a bolt of electricity that snapped from my outstretched hand to the gun aimed at my man. The stranger dropped it with a cry of pain and shock.

Owen's eyes flicked back to me, he gave me a vicious smirk, and lunged forward with his bat despite his injury. I winced and looked away when Owen's bat connected with the stunned man's face. Two more cracks followed before there was silence among the trees.

"Bunny," he gasped and staggered to me. He cupped my cheek with one bloodied hand, looking into my eyes with pure concern. "Are you hurt?"

"Am I hurt...?" I repeated in confusion. Seeing my brave, bold Shark covered in blood had me deep. I was watching my own hands reach for him as I stammered. "Healers. Real healers, back there."

"It grazed me, I'm ok," he said. He pushed his tee shirt sleeve up to show me a nasty looking gouge running across his shoulder. "Look, just a lot of blood. I'll be fine."

I wasn't sure I believed him.

"Shark," I whispered. "Please? Just let them stop the blood? I'm too tired to do it."

Owen grimaced, but he warily agreed.

I tried to remember how I was supposed to ask the healers among the group to help when we got back out of the trees. Any temple-bound acolyte would know the call and response ritual like the backs of their hands. It was first year stuff. I avoided temples as much as possible and absolutely never presented myself as an acolyte if I had to visit one. Those rituals I'd read about were all but lost to me.

"Umm, siblings in devotion," I started nervously. "Glory to, um, the powers we serve. I beg the favor of your patron in this, um..."

I trailed off and gritted my teeth in frustration. I couldn't remember and I couldn't slow my brain down enough to think. One woman held up a hand to stop my stumbling attempt.

"It's ok," she said. "We'll help."

There was real beauty in seeing the healers work. Gentle eyes and lips moving in worship as they called on their deities and guided that curative strength to Owen's wound. My beloved tensed up for a moment, then slowly relaxed under the influence. Owen stretched his shoulder tentatively after a few minutes, then laughed to himself as he thanked the healers around us.

My heart didn't slow down, though. I was still anxious and far away. Now that the danger was past, the crowd around me was making me nervous on top of the physical and emotional exhaustion. I'd spent my whole life hiding who I was from people exactly like that. Every instinct ingrained in me was screaming to get Owen and run. My ears were ringing with aimless adrenaline

"Bunny," he said softly. I felt his hands on my face more than I really saw him move. "Hey, eyes here. It's over. We're both safe."

I blinked and focused in on his familiar gray eyes. Owen gently stroked my arms and squeezed my hands in his. He didn't let me look away, insisting that I match his slow breathing until my panic ebbed enough for me to stop shaking.

"You did it," he said with a little grin. "You saved everyone. Amazing, Bun."

I looked around at the gathered, malnourished faces.

"How do we get them away from here?" I asked dully. I hadn't even considered how to get thirteen extra people out of the middle of nowhere.

"I can call my temple," one man volunteered. "I'm sure they're looking for me."

Others said they would do the same. One pointed out that their temple was in Nashville and could house the others until travel could be arranged for those from other areas. That left Elijah staring at the ground with his chin trembling and the crow on his shoulder.

Ah. Poor kid.

I pushed up on my shaky legs and took Elijah away from the group as they made their calls with one of Owen's many, many cell phones.

"Hey," I said quietly. "So, um, solitary bees have an important place in the ecosystem. Bumblebees and honeybees are more popular, but that isn't the only way to live. It's more dangerous to be alone, but there are benefits, too. A hive isn't for everyone."

"I, um, what?" Elijah said awkwardly.

"He means you don't have to go back to your temple," Owen provided from behind me. He joined us and put an arm around my waist. "Or any temple."

"I can't break my oath," he whispered in horror.

"No, um, not that," I stammered awkwardly. I pulled my gloves off and showed him my scarred palms. "I'm not registered. I've never been a part of any temple system. It's harder, but my lady speaks to me without filter and without limit. We can help you if this is the life you want. I don't have any money, but Shark, um, Owen, he said he would help."

"Come on, kid," Owen said. "You're with us until you figure this out."

...

Elijah

The others left in a large van adorned with Beaivi symbols. That made sense. Beaivi temples were always open to those in need. The woman, a healer who apparently belonged to that temple, stopped by Flynn and Owen before she climbed into the van.

"I know you came for the messenger's prophet," she said, looking kindly at me, "but thank you for saving the rest of us.

"We wouldn't just leave people like that," Flynn said softly, clearly horrified at the idea. Owen just nodded. I suspected he would have left with just me if not for Flynn's influence.

"May the gods bless your days," she said in the rote script of acolytes parting. "Take my goodwill to your temple."

"Oh, thank you?" Flynn said hopefully. "I mean, um..."

"We accept your goodwill with gratitude," I provided the correct answer. "May the gods bless your days"

The Beaivi acolyte chuckled and boarded the van.

Owen drove us back up to Nashville. Flynn was asleep with his knees pulled up to his chest in the passenger seat, I was in the back idly petting the crow who had apparently chosen to stay with me for the time being.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"You should thank Flynn when he wakes up," Owen told me. "I don't do charity unless he asks me."

"Oh. Um, is he really an unregistered acolyte?" I asked tentatively. Flynn told me freely, hopefully that meant it wasn't a touchy subject.

"He is," Owen confirmed. "And you should ask him a lot of questions before you decide to go that route. It's a lot harder than he thinks it is. Who's your patron? We can probably find a temple that isn't an oracle farm that would accept you. Or an underground one if you want to go unregistered but not alone."

"Phoebus," I said. "Most of his temples are oracles in some way, but maybe I could be happy there if it wasn't, um, like the place I left."

"I think just about anything would be better than a Delphink oracle farm," he scoffed. "Even the shit Bunny puts up with is better than that."

"Bunny?"

"Flynn," he provided.

"Right," I said. "So you and he are...?"

"Gay. Partners. Lovers. Take your pick. Is Phoebus one of those gods that has a problem with that?" Owen glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I could clearly see the challenge in his cold, gray eyes. I very vividly remembered him swinging that bat at my captor's head.

"Oh, no!" I insisted with my face burning in embarrassment. "Sorry! I didn't mean anything by that."

"Be nice, Shark," Flynn muttered with his head still down. "He's been in the temple since he was really young."

Owen's face softened. He chuckled and ran a hand over Flynn's back.

"Rest, Bun," he said soothingly. "I won't hurt the kid while you sleep."

"Don't scare him either," Flynn insisted.

He turned his head to make eye contact with Owen. That's when I realized his nose seemed to be bleeding sluggishly and had stained his jeans where he had his head down. Owen sighed and reached over to gently tilt his head back. Flynn blinked in confusion, then reached up to touch the blood as it dawned on him what was going on.

"You pushed too hard," Owen said. His voice when he spoke to Flynn was so different from the sarcastic, cold tone he took with everyone else I'd seen him speak to. It made me feel like I was eavesdropping on something intensely private.

"But we saved everyone," Flynn said.

"Yeah, you saved everyone," Owen said fondly.

We rode in an exhausted silence back to the fanciest hotel I had ever seen. I felt extremely out of place in my filthy clothes and muddy bare feet even just in the parking garage. I hesitated to follow them, looking down at myself in shame. A heaviness in the air pressed down on my lungs as Flynn rested his hand on my back.

"Stay quiet, no one will notice you," he said. He was trembling and swaying a bit, but he stayed on his feet.

"Bun," Owen started to argue.

"Let's go fast. I'll be ok."

Flynn all but marched me through the exquisite lobby, to an elevator that required Owen to swipe a card to zip us up to the higher floors. I relaxed as soon as the heavy room door closed behind us. Flynn didn't lie. No one so much as looked at me.

Flynn sat on the floor in the entry and put his head down on the wood floor. His breath was coming in shaking gasps and a thin sheen of sweat slicked his skin. Owen knelt beside him in concern.

"Kid, go get cleaned up," Owen said after glancing up at me where I was hovering uncertainly over them.

"Is he... ok?" I asked. "Can I help?"

"I've got him. Go shower. I'll find something clean you can wear."

I obeyed. I didn't know anything else to do. It slowly dawned on me as I showered off the weeks of dirt and grime that I had just let two strangers take me back to their hotel room. Two strangers that I knew for a fact to be dangerous.

Stupid, stupid Elijah. That was exactly the kind of decision making that got me in trouble in the first place.

"Hey, kid, clothes here by the door," Owen said. "And your bird just showed up on the balcony so I'm letting it in here."

"Ok, thanks!" I said a little too brightly. The crow indeed flitted through the cracked door to perch on the top of the glass shower. Her presence soothed me. She was an envoy of my lord. He wouldn't have sent her to Flynn and Owen if they were going to hurt me.

"You'll watch out for me, right?" I whispered to the bird as I dried myself and dressed in what had to be Owen's clothes. He was shorter than me, but his sweatpants and tee shirt fit just fine.

I found that Owen had somehow moved Flynn to sit on the couch in the separate sitting area of their fancy suite. He was carefully cleaning blood off Flynn's face and chest. Without his shirt on, Flynn looked terrifying. The absolute miasma of sigils and wards etched into his skin were more complicated than anything I'd ever seen. My education on sigil construction was limited, any temple-registered devotee's access to knowledge like that would be strictly controlled. Those marks very clearly demonstrated that he was something much different than what I was accustomed to. Scars marred some of the marks, cuts and burns and the occasional patch of tough, raised skin that I couldn't readily identify.

Flynn blinked at me and smiled. He had a nice, eager smile even though he definitely looked exhausted. Like he spotted an old friend across a crowded room.

"So, two options," he said. His voice sounded a little haggard, but he seemed to have regathered himself a bit. "You sleep on the couch or, if you feel safer alone, Owen gets you another room."

I was too busy staring at the marks all over him to answer. Owen arched an eyebrow at me.

"He's mine and I don't share," Owen snickered.

"Ah! No!" I gasped. "It's all the tattoos! I swear!"

Flynn laughed, pulled his blood stained shirt back on, and assured me that Owen was joking. I wasn't so sure.

"Um, either is fine. I can sleep on the couch," I said awkwardly. "I'll, um, I'll get out of your hair as soon as I can."

"Take your time. We aren't done with all this just yet," Owen told me. "There's still the mystery car and that woman who does the kidnapping to deal with. She's going to run as soon as she sees what we did to the farm."

I thought about the woman who I believed to be my friend. Nothing about her tipped off my senses. That confused me while I was in captivity. Now, after seeing what Flynn could do, I had an idea of how she had managed it.

"She's an unregistered acolyte, too," I said. "Or part of an underground temple. She has to be."

"If that's the case, I'll drag her into Temple Enforcement for a bounty. They can deal with her after that," Owen said.

"Makes sense," Flynn said. He rubbed his hands over his face as he spoke. He was swaying a bit even just sitting there.

"Bed, Bunny. We'll deal with this when you wake up," Owen said firmly.

...

Flynn

It was dark outside when I woke up. Time was a mystery to me at that point, but my best guess was that I had slept through daylight into the next night.

The only light in the room was Owen's laptop. It illuminated his face and made his glasses into bright, opaque shields over his eyes. He sat on the floor, leaning back on the bed. I crawled over to him and tugged his headphones off.

"Hey, Bun," he greeted me softly with a hopeful smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok," I whispered back. "You could sit on the bed, you know. I can sleep through just about anything."

"I can't work if I'm too comfortable," he chuckled. "That car hasn't gone back out to the farm, yet. It's just cruising around town."

"She's hunting," I said grimly. "She's looking for someone vulnerable to grab."

I looked over Owen's shoulder at the little dot puttering slowly on the far west side of the city. I could feel it distantly, that weird wrongness was still hanging over the city.

"I can play bait," I said.

Owen's head snapped back to lock his eyes on me. He usually had soft, warm eyes for me, but he looked like the cold hunter he really was in that moment.

"Absolutely fucking not," he growled. I glanced over at the blanket-covered shape that was Elijah fast asleep on the couch. The crow was on top of him in a little nest of blankets. Neither stirred at Owen's outburst.

"She won't actually catch me," I whispered. "She won't be expecting someone like me. Aggressive mimicry. I'll be an angler fish. You be a spider. I lure her in, we both pounce."

Owen grimaced and looked back at the screen.

"Shit, that's not a bad idea," he sighed. "And I don't want her to catch on. She'll be hard to find if she runs."

"What are you so worried about? You're the one who got shot last night," I pointed out. "I can dodge. How's your shoulder?"

"Like nothing ever happened," he said a little doubtfully. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Gods don't give away anything for free."

"You saved their acolytes from death and stopped those guys from turning their blessings into bliss," I said. "That was the payment. Even gods that don't particularly care about individual devotees disapprove of their blessings being stolen like that."

I heard the crow chatter irritably and looked over to see Elijah sitting up and stretching.

"Sorry, did we wake you up?" I apologized.

"No, it's fine," he said a little awkwardly. "I want to help."

Owen set his laptop aside to go turn on a lamp.

"If you're coming, you need shoes and clothes that fit," he said. "What size?"

Elijah provided his sizes with some confusion.

"I won't be able to get anything nice this time at night, but WalMart is open," Owen said as he put on his own boots. "Stay here with Bunny. I'll be back."

Owen kissed my cheek and left Elijah and me alone. We looked at each other in awkward silence for far too long.

"So," he started slowly. "Owen said I should ask you about life as an unregistered acolyte. Would you mind telling me about that?"

"Oh, sure!" I answered happily. That was easy. I liked talking about my lady. "Was there something specific you wanted to know?"

"He said that it's a lot harder than you think it is," Elijah said. His eyes were on the crow where she strutted over to the balcony door. I got up to let her outside. "What would make it so hard? Is it just having to hide?"

I handed Elijah the room service menu and mulled over that question for a bit.

"Pick out some breakfast while I think," I said. Elijah looked around the room for a clock.

"It's like three in the morning?" he laughed. "Will they do room service this late?"

"Owen likes fancy hotels," I answered. That wasn't strictly true. Owen didn't care where he slept. He liked to take me to fancy hotels. "This one has 24 hour room service."

He looked at the menu for a moment then winced.

"Um, I'm ok," he said softly and handed it back to me.

I looked down at the little leather booklet in confusion, wondering how he could possibly not be hungry. We had all fallen into a dead sleep as soon as we cleaned up enough to get under the blankets and Elijah looked like he hadn't been fed very well for weeks.

"It doesn't have to be breakfast?" I tried. "It's like an all the food all the time kind of thing. You can order whatever looks good."

"No, really, it's fine," he mumbled.

"Look, um, I'm not good at reading between the lines," I said. "I'm bad at people. You have to just tell me if something is wrong."

"It's really expensive," he said with his eyes locked on the floor. "And I don't have any money."

"Oh," I chuckled and relaxed. "I don't have any money, either. Shark gives me anything I ask for, though, and I asked him to help me help you. That would include feeding you."

"Why?" Elijah asked. "Who are you? Why do you care?"

"Hi, I'm Flynn. I paint things that don't belong to me and run from cops," I said and held out my hand to him to shake. A confused smile tilted his lips as he accepted the handshake. "Your old temple offered my partner the job of hunting you down and dragging you back in. He turned it down, but he showed me the files. I have, um, there's this thing in my guts. Intuition. Discernment. A blessing from my goddess. Not quite prophecy, but related, you know?"

Elijah nodded, but he looked very confused.

"I saw your picture and I knew you were in trouble. You needed help. So I asked Owen to help," I concluded.

Elijah stared at me for a long time, then shook his head.

"But, that doesn't really answer the question," he said carefully. "I made a big mistake trusting someone who I thought just wanted to help out of the goodness of her heart. Why would you help me?"

"I barely avoided being a temple ward as a kid. I was in the foster system pretty early, and I was the kind of nuisance with magical potential they usually pawn off to a for-profit temple for a kickback. I was lucky, though. My lady came to me directly and gave me the blessings I needed to hide myself," I explained. "And rats save other rats, even when they don't know each other. Altruism. Empathy. You needed help. I was in the position to give you the help you needed."

"Rats, huh?" he asked me with a little chuckle. "Got it. We're both rats."

"Not in a bad way," I said apologetically. "Like I said, I'm not good at people."

"Can I really order something to eat?" he said hopefully. "I'll understand if it's too expensive."

"Really, really," I assured him. "Whatever you want. As much as you want. I'll get something, too."

Over the small feast and coffee service we ordered, I finally settled on an answer to his earlier question.

"So, hiding is hard. It means you can't really have a normal life. You can't work or draw attention to yourself selling blessings and spells like a travelling registered acolyte would. I have a lot of wards and occlusions on my skin that obscure what I am, but really being unnoticeable is exhausting. I have to pay attention to where I go, stay naturally camouflaged with as little magic as possible," I explained.

Elijah nodded with his mouth full of an omelet he was trying hard to pace himself through.

"Owen probably wasn't talking about that, though," I went on. "Being in such direct contact with a deity is inherently painful. Human bodies aren't meant to channel that much power. Our ears aren't meant to hear their voices. Our senses cannot comprehend their presence. My lady wants me alive, but this kind of contact could easily kill someone who doesn't have that kind of favor.

"Owen also doesn't like how she will go out of her way to hurt me when she wants to make a point, but he doesn't understand. He's not a worshipper of any kind. A relationship this close with my deity isn't a gift. It's not free. I have to make sacrifices. My lady demands my pain and my immediate obedience. Your patron may be different."

"How would I know?" Elijah said. "How did you know the pain was worth it?"

"Faith," I answered with a shrug. "It's all an act of faith. I didn't have any real reason to believe being her zealot would improve my life, but I believed she chose me for a reason. I cut her marks into my palms without any motivation beyond my devotion. Faith."

He looked a bit nauseated by that idea. He went quiet for a long time after that. We ate in silence until Owen returned with several bags of clothes for Elijah.

"Ooh, coffee," Owen sighed happily at the smell. I poured him a cup which he accepted with a kiss.

He dumped all the clothes out on the bed. He'd picked up a small but complete wardrobe complete with socks and boxers along with a black backpack like his.

"Ok, we travel light," Owen told Elijah. "Everything except the clothes you're wearing needs to fit in one bag."

Elijah stared at the array of clothes on the bed with his eyes wide. He glanced between me and Owen nervously.

"This is so much," he said softly. "I don't, um, I can't pay you back."

"I'm not expecting you to," Owen said dismissively. "Get dressed. Bunny, prep what you need. We're headed out before that car heads back for the farm. We'll bait her or intercept her today." He started snapping tags off the new clothes and showed Elijah how to roll them tight to fit all of it inside his new backpack.

...

Owen

I put Flynn in the passenger seat with my tracking program open on my phone. The kid and his crow sat nervously in the back, leaning forward between the front seats to watch the little dot of my tracker glide silently through the maze of the city.

"I think she's headed back to 65," Flynn reported.

I nodded and checked for cops before gunning it down the early morning backstreets. Traffic was picking up. I needed to intercept her before she hit the interstate or I might lose the chance to catch up. Flynn let out a long breath before he spoke again.

"I'm going to drop all my occlusions," he said. "If I'm right about how she's hunting, she'll head right for us. Blood in the water. Vibrations in the web."

"Why would she do that?" Elijah asked.

"Because she's looking for batteries," he said grimly. "I'm an open conduit directly to a goddess. I'll be the strongest magic source in the city."

There was that familiar, uncanny feeling of the air shifting around us as Flynn tapped into his power. Elijah gasped behind us and cringed back into the seat.

"Looks like she took the bait," Flynn said after a moment. "Slow down, Shark. Let me out. I'll get her out of that car."

I begrudgingly complied, slowing down to park in a gravel lot under an overpass. It was a terrible place for a confrontation. Too busy, too visible.

"We have to get off the main street," I said as we climbed out of the car. I took my stained bat from the floorboards.

"The Greenway is right behind here," Flynn replied. "It's not exactly sheltered, but we can get off the street."

We walked in uneasy silence, crunching over gravel to the asphalt-paved path that sat behind a thin scrim of trees hidden behind the urban sprawl of the city. I let Flynn lead. He knew those paths better than I did and he had higher guidance nudging him to the most advantageous spot. He stopped some ways down the path and tilted his head to one side.

"Here?" I prompted him. He nodded and settled on his knees in the dirt beside the path.

Dawn was breaking, but the trees kept us in shadows. Birds were waking up in the branches as a pink sunrise began to tint the sky. I crouched in front of Flynn where he knelt with his head bowed.

"Be careful, Bunny," I said. Flynn chuckled shakily.

"You're not the only one telling me to be careful," he said. "My lady just told me she won't accept failure."

"I'll be just out of sight, ok?" I reassured him. I kissed his forehead and stood up. "Kid, you're with me."

"Don't get too close when this starts," Flynn warned me. "Stay on that side of the path unless I say otherwise."

Elijah followed me into the brush that lined the path. We sat in silence as I watched the car slide into a lot near where we had parked. Flynn seemed to be carving something into the dirt with his camping knife. His head snapped up from his task, his dark eyes locked on the path behind us. He stood up and shook out the tension in his shoulders, relaxing until he looked the part of a nature lover on a casual stroll. He stuffed his tell-tale hands into his jacket pockets, stepped just off the path, and pretended to be admiring something in the canopy of trees.

"Good morning!" called a friendly voice from the path. Flynn turned with the clueless, dopey grin he used to charm strangers when he needed to.

The woman from the bus station tape approached with a big, glamour model smile. She wasn't dressed for a walk in her business casual slacks and sensible heels. Flynn pretended not to notice.

"Morning!" Flynn responded. "It's a beautiful one, isn't it?"

The woman came to a halt a few yards from Flynn. Protective anger lit on me as her eyes crawled appraisingly over him.

"It is, but aren't you hot in that jacket?" she chuckled. Flynn just shrugged. "Gosh, you're a tall one."

She moved to get closer, a tight coil of focus in me prepared to spring into action. Flynn dropped his amiable mask to stare through her with those dark, disquieting eyes. She faltered at the sudden change.

"How many did you kill?" Flynn asked. "How many bright, young acolytes did you trick with empty promises?"

The woman scoffed.

"Oh, a hero? Cute," she smirked at him and started forward again.

"Stop," I snarled and emerged from the woods. "You touch him and I'll bash your head in."

"You have a little chihuahua on call?" she laughed at me. Elijah must have chosen that moment to show himself. The woman's eyes shifted to him and widened in recognition. Uncomfortable confusion colored her face, followed quickly by barely contained fury. She whipped back to glare at Flynn.

"It's all gone. We burned your whole stash and freed all the people you were siphoning," I taunted her in an effort to draw attention off Flynn. "I killed those two idiots you left to watch the place, too. You just lost everything."

...

Flynn

The stranger lowered her eyes to the ground for a moment and I felt the pressure of her magic stir the air. She was smiling when she raised her eyes back to me.

Being compelled is disconcerting at best. A particularly blessed acolyte can often do it without being noticed. A person is walking down the street, they blink, and suddenly they are three miles away and wearing different clothes. It was very clear that this particular skill was how she captured so many talented acolytes to begin with.

She had a distinct disadvantage when it came to me, though. My goddess refused to allow anyone to take control of her property like that. The woman's eyes widened when I didn't follow the orders she had attempted to implant in my mind.

"You aren't going to be able to compel me," I told her. She immediately turned on Owen to try him, instead.

"Yeah, not him, either," I said when her attempt on him bounced off the complicated wards I had worked into the sigil that bound his soul to mine. Owen just snarled at her. "I'd rather not hurt anyone else, but you aren't walking away from this. Surrender and Shark will turn you in for an unregistered acolyte bounty."

"And if I don't?" she scoffed.

I crouched and tapped the symbol I carved into the dirt earlier. The sudden thickness in the air covered me, too. I couldn't reliably target a spell from a distance without knowing what kind of blessings she held. I was expecting the suffocating sensation of moving and breathing in what was essentially gelatine. She was not.

She gasped and clutched at her throat. I pushed through the viscous air, fighting the ache in my bones from casting more than the soupy atmosphere, to shove her head back to look into her eyes.

Violence wasn't really in my nature. I preferred to avoid fights if I could, but that didn't mean that I couldn't handle a threat. I heard my lady chuckle in amusement as I delved deep into the stranger's mind.

There was nothing in particular that I needed to find. Enhanced perception, a piece of my heightened intuition, was among the most valuable blessings my lady gave me. Reading people's natures and intentions gave me an advantage in most situations, and tapping into it took almost nothing from me. It was also easier to overwhelm my target than it was to moderate. I let the influence of my lady go without limit.

The stranger's panic only helped me. Between the thickened air and the pressure of my perception, the woman was gasping for consciousness in minutes. I followed her down to the ground, keeping her tight in my grasp until her fighting stilled. Once I was certain she was unconscious, I dropped all the spells.

"Holy shit, Bun," Owen laughed. He sounded impressed, his proud grin lit his pretty face. "I didn't know you could do that."

"I don't like to do it," I said. I searched her pockets for her car keys to toss to Owen, then knelt to pick her up in a fireman's carry. "I'll occlude myself and her. Let's get back to her car. I have a feeling it's going to be pretty easy to hold her inside it."

...

Elijah

"Phoebus protect me," I whispered under my breath as I watched Flynn, the kind, quiet man who had inexplicably decided to save me, overwhelm the woman who had betrayed me with his impossibly heavy magic.

I knew her as Mary, but that probably wasn't really her name. Feeling her attempt to compel both Flynn and Owen was an epiphany. I suddenly understood why I couldn't remember anything between meeting her at the bus station and opening my eyes inside the heavily spelled trunk of her car.

It was like a Faraday cage in there. Like sensory deprivation for the devoted. It was the same experience when I found myself inside that makeshift prison - I saw the trunk open, then I was locked away and unable to reach my god. The power she so casually wielded terrified me.

Flynn was on a whole other level. The trap he set for Mary was nothing short of brilliant. His control and the calm way he handled what had to be the pain of casting a spell that concentrated spoke of years of practice and study.

We made our way back to the car where I tapped the trunk.

"In here. It's where she put me," I said.

Owen unlocked the trunk to reveal the interior I never got a clear look at while I was held there. It was a puzzle of spells and symbols. Flynn breathed a long, slow breath out as he examined it.

"This is intense," he said as he lowered the woman inside with surprising gentleness. "No wonder it feels so bad. It's a cuckoo's egg."

"What?" I asked with a reflexive, nervous laugh. Flynn winced and looked away.

"It's something sinister hidden in plain sight," Owen translated. "You'll have to learn about animals and shit if you stick around."

Flynn didn't say anything else. He closed the trunk and looked to Owen.

"You and Elijah head back to the hotel," he said. "I'll drop her off at a TE office and meet you there."

Flynn nodded slowly. He squinted at the closed trunk with his head tilted to one side.

"Don't open that trunk yourself," he said quietly. A small tremor ran through him. I could see goosebumps on the very limited visible skin just above his jacket collar. "Just give Temple Enforcement the keys and leave."

"I'll be careful," he reassured Flynn. I once again felt like I was eavesdropping on something intensely private when Owen reached up to hold Flynn's cheek in one palm, gently redirecting his attention away from the car. "You did so good, Bun. Your part is over. Go rest."

...

Owen

Temple Enforcement.

Ugh.

This wasn't the first TE bounty I dragged in, but I avoided that type of work. Besides the inherent danger of dealing with the often unhinged personalities willing to throw themselves into the self-destructive world of unfettered devotion, it also felt like exploiting people who were just trying to live their lives. Most unregistered acolytes I'd met in my life were like Flynn, ultimately harmless individuals who didn't quite fit into society. I stopped taking those jobs after I got big enough to go mostly digital with my work.

The office looked like any law enforcement station with the addition of a truly eye-searing variety of magical protections painted, carved, and plastered on every wall. The officer that greeted me at the desk had a friendly smile.

"Good morning! How can I help you today?" she chirped. That cheerfulness put me off. It was too hard to separate the nice woman in front of me from the fact that she would happily pay out a bounty on Flynn and toss him wherever they sent zealots to rot without a second thought. There was no due process for a zealot.

"There's an unregistered acolyte in the trunk of the red car out front," I said as I dropped the keys on the counter. "Be careful opening it."

The woman faltered.

"She's... in the trunk of your car?"

"It's not my car," I shrugged and turned away to leave.

"Wait, sir," the woman stood to stop me. "There's paperwork you need to complete. If you'll step this way-"

"No, I'm not filling anything out," I said. I heard an electrified click from the entry doors as the woman locked them from the desk. Grinding my teeth on my irritation, I turned back to her.

"Sir, you need to come with me," she said levelly.

"Am I being detained?" I asked. I made sure I sounded bored while I tapped open one of my homebrewed phones that wasn't really a cell phone anymore. It was way more useful than that.

"We have some questions," she said. "You just admitted that you kidnapped a person and locked them in your trunk."

"Again, not my car," I said without looking up. "And I just said there's an acolyte in the trunk out there. I didn't say anything about who put her there."

The security cameras were mine. I spotted a few officers in other parts of the building before I scrubbed the recordings for the day and launched a pretty little program to quietly munch away at the system behind the scenes.

"You need to come with me," she repeated.

"Am I being detained?" I asked again. I was in the rest of their security system by then. I covered the sound of the entry unlocking with a cough and prepared to send the whole place into lock down.

She advanced on me with her hand on her cuffs. I scoffed.

"You didn't answer the question," I pointed out. "Am I being detained?"

"If you don't willingly come with me now, then yes. You are being detained."

"Ah, got it," I shot her a big, toothy grin. She hesitated at my sudden change just long enough for me to step backwards through the now unlocked doors, slam them shut, and activate the building's lock down system.

Walking quickly, but not running, I made a few random turns to put blocks between me and the TE office. I was considering my best options when my favorite familiar voice called to me from the street.

"Hey, Shark," Flynn said from the driver's seat of our rental. "You didn't plan this very well if you weren't going to play nice. No get away driver?"

I snickered and climbed into the passenger seat. The kid was in the back with his crow. He smiled hopefully at me.

"I guess there's no point in asking how you knew I needed a ride and where I would be, huh?" I chuckled.

"It's nice having a friendly oracle on our side," Flynn said with a grin. "Between the two of us, I think we could find just about anything."

"Well, the bad news is we need to get the fuck out of town right now," I said.

"And the good news?" Flynn prompted as he directed the car without consulting anything. My Bunny didn't need GPS.

"We can go home now," I said. Flynn rewarded me with his big, sunny smile. There was nothing quite like his delight in our little slice of the mountains. "Elijah, hope you're ok sleeping on a couch for a bit longer. It's a one room cabin kind of thing up there."

"You can just leave me here," he said quietly. "I'll figure it out."

"No, that's not happening," I said, but I didn't explain further. "If you want to go to the closest Phoebus temple, we'll take you there. But if you still need time to choose, you're coming with us."

"Um, I don't know," the kid said doubtfully.

"You can come with us, then. You'll like it up there," Flynn said happily. "It's the most beautiful place in the whole world."

He was overselling the land we shared, but nothing warmed my heart quite like seeing my bunny so pleased. I reached for his free hand and squeezed it in mine.

"Let's put some miles between us and this city, Bun," I said.

He grinned and turned the car back towards home.