Of Music and Magic

DISCLAIMER: See chapter one for all information regarding copywrites and all other BS!



BETA: The lovely, wonderful Krysrobin handled my beta this time out. Of course he did get sick of me nagging at him to finish it! Thanks, little bro! You\'re a lifesaver. Peppermint flavor. ;)





AUTHOR\'S NOTES: There isn\'t much to report this time. Here\'s chapter two, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for taking the time to read my little scribbles.



All reviews are welcome (it\'s a free country and you\'ve got first amendment rights and all that jazz), but flames will be used to get rid of the pile of deadfall that is on my lawn right now!



That said, Here we go!!







PART TWO













Aerune slowly swam through the hazy fog of sleep toward consciousness. A ceaseless pounding wove its way into his dreams, a throbbing that kept tempo with his pulse. And as he drifted closer to awareness, the pain became so excruciating that by the time he was fully alert it felt like someone was trying to scalp him with a dull axe.



Goddess, he thought, what the hell happened? Did Jet take me out drinking again? He carefully began to reconstruct the events of the night before. Quick flashes of listening to Jet and Amber helping him get ready, the two of them arguing about what color eyeliner to use and which pair of pants would look the best on him. Fortunately Jet, who had just turned sixteen, wore the same size as he did. But the younger man tended to look, to put it nice, rather slutty. Or at least Amber always stated that he appeared to be an underage prostitute waiting for a date. It never failed that the youngest member of the quartet would ask if that was an invitation and they would start wrestling on the ground like a pair of puppies.



The bed he lay on smelled of cinnamon, cloves, sandalwood, male musk and roses. None of the three men that he knew in Japan smelled like that. His memories of the night before snapped into focus. He smiled against the pillow.



Three things had become clear last night. One: the spell Sterling set worked against Schwarz and someone without a mage gift could trigger it. Two: the Weiss kittens were exactly what Kritiker said they were nothing more, nothing less. Three: the pounding, peel-the-skin-off-your-forehead headache he was suffering from came from a combination of factors. First, his head coming in contact with the solid plastic and metal interior of the vehicle. Two, the minor fact that he overdid it last night and now was suffering from overextension shock. Not the brightest thing he had ever done, but at least both conditions were easily remedied. With a sigh he cuddled down into the crisp sheets and promptly fell back to sleep.







* * * * * *







The soft creak of hinges brought him instantly awake. His hand crept under the pillow, looking for the revolver that should be there. Then memory returned and Aerune realized how vulnerable he was, lying on his stomach with his face turned away from the slowly opening door and his braid hanging off the bed.



“Om-mi!” Siberian hissed, trying to keep his voice down.



“I just want to see, Ken-kun,” the youngest member of Weiss said. “It isn’t everyday that Aya brings someone home and I need to be able to give an accurate account to Kritiker about what happened last night and how he ended up here.”



“Aya isn’t going to like this.”



“He’s not paid to li—” The muffled sound of a Midi version of ‘Fur Elise’ rang through the silence of the room from a cell phone. A startled gasp came from the figure on the bed, his stillness broken as he came instantly awake and his head cocked, trying to locate the source. With fluid, graceful movements, he slid off the bed crawling toward the repeating noise. Finding his clothes, he dug through the pile and tracked down the small device in one front pocket of his borrowed leather jeans.



“Hello,” he said in lightly accented Japanese. Omi could hear the growling of the voice on the other end of the line. “Ah, Sterling.” There was a pregnant pause. “In bed.” Another pause. “It’s not what you’re thinking!” A long growl. “No, I went for a job interview and there were a few minor complications.” More growling and a snarl. “Um…I don’t know.” A quiet snarl. “Well, you see, I was entering the building and the door flew open, smashing me in the face.” A quietly rumbled question. “Yeah and I was kidnapped by a pair of cats.” Another quiet question. “It’s a long story. But the abduction probably was the best thing that could have happened. If they hadn’t taken me with them, I would have entered the building just as the earthquake hit and could have been killed.” A triumphant yelp. “What?!” A smug statement. “And just how do you propose to do that?” the white-haired man asked, his voice growing cold as the phone went dead. “Cold bastard.” The phone snapped shut with a beep.



Omi giggled at how much the man sitting the floor next to Aya’s bed sounded like Yohji after he and the crimson-tressed man had a fight. Blank sage-green eyes turned toward the sound.



“Who’s there?”



“Sorry,” Omi said, contritely from his post in the doorway. “I just wanted to see the man that Aya kidnapped last night.”



Aerune tilted his head to one side. “Aya? Do you mean Abyssinian?”



The youngest member of the assassination team considered his words carefully. “Who? I’ve never heard that name before.”



“Sorry,” he apologized, “the ones that grabbed me last night must have belonged to Cat Fanciers of the world, ‘cause they were all named after cat breeds.”



“Really? Maybe you just heard them wrong?”



“That’s a possi—”



“Omi,” Ken’s voice broke in. “You’ve seen what you came for. We have to get downstairs ……. NOW!”



“Siberian,” Aerune said, smiling.



“Wha…how…?”



A burble of silvery laughter. “Most people never forget a face. I, on the other hand, never forget a voice. I have an excellent memory for the different timbres and pitches in a person’s voice.” He leaned toward the stunned teenager. “It comes from being not only a musician, but also blind.”



“Oh,” came the faint reply.



“So, you’re the mysterious Omi.”



“How did you….?”



“I remember Abyssinian bellowing that name as you fell into something.” The blind eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now, I have a big favor to ask of you.”



“And that would be?” Ken’s voice broke into the conversation.



“Where is the bathroom and could I use the shower?” Aerune smiled at both the assassins in the room. “I think that Sterling will be here soon and I know that the crap Jet put on my face last night has migrated down my cheeks. I probably look like a zombie with the black rings under my eyes. It is black isn’t it? Jet never told me what color he was going to use, just that he would make me ‘irresistible’ to members of either sex.”



The chagrin in his voice got Omi giggling again. He smiled in response to the cheerful noise. The younger man reminded him of the youngest member of his group, the irrepressible Jet.



“I think we can safely provide you with a shower. And I might be able to find you something to wear other than what you’ve got,” Omi chirped, bouncing to his feet and scurrying out of the room. Ken sighed and came over to the to where the musician reclined on the floor. He reached one hand out and, gently touching him, offered it to the sightless young man ensconced in the covers.



“Come on,” he said, helping the naked man to his feet.



The white-haired man untangled himself from the cotton sheets and got to his feet, swaying as the blood flowed away from his head toward his feet. Translucent, milky skin, paler than Aya’s flushed as the cool air brushed it and the snow-white braid caressed his backside in a familiar gesture. Ken sucked in a deep breath at the beauty standing before him and shifted as the typical response flowed through his groin. Yes, he was sleeping and in love with Omi, but exquisiteness never failed to arouse him.



“Are you all right?” Aerune asked, gently grasping the chocolate-haired man beside him.



“Fine,” came the strangled reply. “Let’s get you into the shower, shall we?”



“Of course.” Laughter lurked in the musician’s words. He let the other man lead him, knowing that it would be much easier to allow himself to be led instead of stumbling and tripping over hidden obstacles and ending up with more injuries.



Ken led the blind man to the bathroom on the floor that Aya and Yohji shared. The stark black and white motif in the room screamed Aya at the top of its lungs. Somehow the stoic swordsman talked the chestnut-haired playboy into decorating the entire room in the theme of a chessboard. Touches of scarlet broke up the monochromic blandness of the chamber. Somehow the two assassins had blended their personal tastes into a thing of austere beauty. And the lovely on his arm nearly blended into the simplicity, only his sage-green eyes separating him from the snowy whiteness.



The mingled scents of soap, shampoo and other male bathing condiments assaulted Aerune’s nose. The small room smelled like an expensive day spa and he almost expected a deep, heavily accented voice to tell him to remove his clothing for the required total body massage. Under his bare feet, the ceramic tiling felt cool and slick. Hopefully there would be …… yep, there was. Warm, fuzzy material stroked the bottoms of his feet as he stepped onto a well tacked down area rug.



“Thank you,” he softly said to the young man leading him into the room. “I think I can find my way around from here.”



“Ah, if you’re sure,” came the uncertain answer.



“Please, I’ve been enough of a bother. Besides, I wouldn’t want either of you to get into trouble with your employer.”



“ ‘Kay. We’ll just be down the stairs and you probably remember how to get back to the room where you were staying, right?”



“Here we go!” Omi bubbled as he walked into the room. “Oh, my!” He stopped in the doorway at the sight of his lover and the man who had taken over Aya’s bed for the night. “I found you some of my sweats. They’re not much, but at least they’re clean and not covered in blood like your clothes from last night.”



Sightless eyes turned toward him. “Thank you,” Aerune said with a big smile. “Now, I think I can handle taking a shower and getting myself all clean. I’d better hurry ‘cause Sterling will be here soon and he’s not a happy camper as it is.”



“All right,” Omi said, leading Ken out of the room. “If you need anything, just holler down the stairs. C’mon Ken.”



Aerune waited until he could no longer hear the footsteps on the stairs, then felt his way over to the shower. He pulled the curtain back, got the water to the right temperature and stepped into the welcome warmth. The heat and moisture helped to chase away the residual affects of the wound on his forehead and the over-extension shock. He soaped up his hair with some rich, exotic, probably very expensive shampoo and conditioner, then began slowly washing his body.



:Sterling,: he reached out with his mind.



:Hm?: came the expected reply. :Everything okay on that end?:



:Everything’s fine. Just don’t be in too big of a hurry to come and rescue me. I’m in the shower and want to enjoy every minute of it.: He thought through all that he had learned in the last twenty-four hours. :It’s a go. I’ll tell you more about it when you pick me up.:



:‘Kay. See you in about thirty.:



:I’ll be here. Where are you now?:



:About three blocks from the flower shop. Jet and Amber are both within the same radius and we’ll meet before I descend on the Weiss boys.:



:See you then.: He let the connection between the two of them fade and turned his attention to truly enjoying his shower. It wasn’t often that he got to take his time in the shower, usually either Jet or Amber wanted in and he had to share the hot water. The only time they didn’t have to worry about whether or not there would be enough heated water was the few times that their jobs required them to live in a hotel or motel. But those were very few and extremely far apart.







@ @ @ @ @ @











Three quarters of an hour after Omi and Ken joined their two teammates in the shop, the door came open with an enthusiastic jangle of the bell. Two young men entered the shop; they could be twins, except for a few minor differences. Both had waist-length hair, pulled back into thick, neat braids but one was the blue-black of a raven’s wing and the other the dark amber of alfalfa honey. One pair of eyes glittered like jet beads and the other regarded the world through whiskey-colored orbs. But both possessed the same heart-shaped faces; fair skin, lithe lean bodies and the awkward grace of adolescent cats.



The dark-haired one’s eyes skimmed the store, obviously looking for something or someone. Seeing the four florist/assassins standing around the counter, he smiled and walked toward them.



“Excuse me,” he said in lightly accented Japanese. “But is Aerune here?”



“Who the hell is Aerune?” Aya asked.



“He’s about our height,” the amber-haired youth chimed in, “and build. Pure white hair and silvery-green eyes.”



“And he would have a guitar case with him,” chirped dark hair.



“He might be,” Aya snarled, distrust heavy in his voice.



“Look,” amber hair said, “we’re friends of his and we want to get him out of here before trouble shows up and things go to hell in a hand basket. Now where is he?”



“I’ll see if he’s accepting visitors,” Aya growled, stalking toward the stairs heading up to the living quarters.



“Aaaeeruuune!” Jet yelled running for the stairs. “C’mon Aerune, we got to get out of here before Sterling ….” The low, window-rattling sound of a straight piped Harley overrode the dark haired youth’s words. “Ah shit! Too f-ing late, it’s the lawnmower on steroids.” Both men dove for the dubious cover of the flower-laden shelves.



The quartet of assassins stood, paralyzed by the strange behavior of their guests. The door to the Koneko swung open and a tall, leanly muscled, dark haired, black leather clad man stalked into the crowded shop, a scowl etching deep lines on his face. Eyes the color of tarnished silver swept over the room, missing nothing, not even the cowering forms of the first two men.



“Where is he?” he snarled, looking at Aya.



“Who?” the crimson haired man asked blandly.



“Aerune.” He held up a hand to forestall any attempts to deny that the musician was there. “Before anyone says anything, I talked to the brat this morning on his cell phone. And since I placed a microchip with GPS capabilities in it, I know that he’s here, somewhere. So why don’t you all be good little boys and fetch him for me, all right?”



“So that’s how you did it, you fucking son of a bitch,” a soft tenor responded in the brief silence that followed the leather-clad man’s declaration. Aerune stepped gracefully off the stairs, guitar case and dirty clothes in one hand and the other trailing against the wall with his folded cane dangling from its strap. The light touch led him into the room and the scent of flowers reached his nose. “I’m here now, Sterling. Can we go or do you want to embarrass me some more?”



“I … we … they,” the dark haired man sputtered.



“We’ll discuss your lack of manners when we get home.” Turning toward the four young men, who acted as his hosts for the night, he smiled. “Thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps in the future, I can reciprocate the kindness.” He moved carefully toward the sound of the barely ringing bell. “Jet, Amber, let’s go home.”



The unusual foursome left, one at a time, the younger two avoiding the irascible dark man. Once he reached the outside, Aerune opened his cane and began to tap it against the pavement. He stopped just out of sight of the store, realizing for the first time that he had no idea of which way to go. He waited patiently for his friends to join him. He didn’t have long to wait; the uneasy trio met him in a matter of moments.



“All right, Harper, report,” Sterling growled.



“Here’s the bare bones; one, tell Kritiker that it’s a go. Two, they’re everything that we were lead to believe, nothing more and more importantly, nothing less. Three, the spell that you gave me works like it should and even someone like me can use it. I think the last stage of testing should be with someone totally UnTalented, but that can wait until we’ve started working with the Weiss boys and can use one of them.”



Sterling led him gently over to the bike, handing Amber the guitar case. “Good. I’ll let Manx know right away and we can start teaching the kittens to defend themselves from people like Crawford and his cronies.” He looked over at the ‘twins’, “see you two at the safe house. Be careful and try not to draw too much attention to yourselves, understand?”



“You got it, Sterling,” Jet said, his voice filled with excitement. The quartet broke up, Aerune on the back of Sterling’s bike, his body pressed tightly against the mage’s back. Jet and Amber clambered into the cherry-red convertible that their leader had rented for this mission.



In their excitement, none of them noticed the white linen-clad, orange haired man hiding behind one of the trees across the street from the Koneko. The aura of nothingness that surrounded the four young men drew his attention. With a careful probe, he tried to see who they were and what they were up to: it failed. The feeler slipped off well-placed shields, leaving Mastermind contemplating what it all meant. This was something that he could bring to Crawford. He walked away from the flower shop, kitten torturing forgotten for that day.