Blood And Fire: Ascension

She stood in her bedroom, the classic black cocktail dress laid across the bed. It was understated, elegant but not extravagant. It was a dress that said its owner invested in one decent piece because that was all she could afford. It was an homage to practicality while still being luxurious enough to let her in doors that might otherwise remain closed.

She walked to the en suite, the glow of the triple candles the only light in the space. She whispered a quiet prayer to the Weird Sisters as she steadied her concentration for the next part of her preparation.

Placing her tools on the vanity, she had a fleeting thought: for centuries, women had applied makeup to make themselves attractive to men, a subtle artifice in the war of the sexes.

But tonight the armor of beauty would have the soft bite of power hidden in its touch.

She reached for the palette of eyeshadows, grays that ranged from light to dark, almost black. The powders were formed by an art older than herself and passed down for generations. Countless spells were woven into them.

As she applied them, creating a smoky, sultry effect, she whispered a soft prayer.

“Let every eye that sees me witness me pass unremarked, like smoke vanishing in the wind.”

As she moved to select a shade for her lips, she chose a deep, dusky rose. As she applied it, another prayer rang in her mind.

“May the words I speak, whether truth or falsehood, be accepted and believed.”

Finally, she picked up the compact. She felt the spells coiled inside as she opened it. It purred in her mind like a sleeping feline awakened and stretching. As she applied the powder, the final prayer left her lips.

“Clothe me in the light of stars and dawn. May the protection of Indigo’s Kiss settle about me.”

Looking in a mirror, she nodded to herself and then, with silent reverence, blew out the triple candles of the Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

A half hour later, she stepped out onto the street at 86th and Park. The night air was crisp with the promise of fresh snow to come. Quickly raising her arm, she hailed cab out of the on-coming traffic.

The driver saw her and stopped in front of her. Getting in, she told him her destination, then laid her head back and closed her eyes as the car pulled away.

The plane had landed ten minutes after sunset. Leo and Liam said their goodbyes to everyone and, after going over logistics, hopped into the waiting SUV for the ride to Liam’s. Now they stood outside the apartment door, with Liam holding the key in his hand.

Liam reached out and took Leo’s hand as he placed the key in the door. Warmth and love flowed through their bond.

As the door opened, Liam was surprised. He took in his surroundings and, even though he could tell there had been major changes—new carpeting, walls removed between the two apartments that occupied the floor, creating one coherent space—he didn’t feel as if his life had been erased.

Everywhere there were touches of Alexander and the life he had shared with him. The window that was in Alexander’s portrait. The worn armchair that Alex watched TV in. Liam simply paused to take it all in.

There was also Leo: pictures Liam had taken of Leo at the gallery working with Kara, Leo with his sleeves rolled up helping Joseph hang a photo installation, Leo smiling as he spoke with a gallery patron. He smiled as he remembered the moments captured by those pictures.

He sent out a silent thanks to Tristan, who had so lovingly and carefully made sure that both Alexander and Leo were honored and present in this space. Not as rivals, but as the two men who both loved Liam.

As Liam walked into the living room, he noticed immediately that something more had been added. On the wall, there was a brand-new entertainment unit with all of Alexander’s vinyls lovingly organized. Dual turntables would allow for music to be played continuously.

Out of all the places that had whispers of Alexander, here among his records, Liam could feel him the most.

Liam took a moment, brushing his fingers over the records. He found the one he was looking for, Debussy’s Clair de Lune. He took the record out of the cover and placed it on the turntable.

Closing his eyes for a second, he pressed the button, turning it on. A soft click, and the soft, haunting music filled the apartment from the recessed speakers.

Leo came over to him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Liam’s hands found his.

After a few minutes, Liam turned in Leo’s arms and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. He rested his forehead against Leo’s, and they simply stood there, listening to the music that filled the space.

Smiling up at Leo, he took a moment to look at the rest of the room, and then he saw it. He couldn’t believe that he had missed it when they entered. But there it stood on the opposite end of the room, its quiet presence waiting to be noticed.

A sleek black Steinway baby grand piano, its tuxedo keys gleaming as if it were dressed for a formal function.

Liam took Leo’s hand and pulled him over to where the piano stood. His fingers brushed the keys, and he smiled. Leo snaked an arm around his waist as he looked down at the piano. He whispered softly in his ear as the music climbed exultingly.

Liam smiled at Leo’s whispered words. He simply put his arm around him and enjoyed Leo’s presence as they listened to the gentle notes of Clair de Lune enfold them.