Page 33 of Witches Be Damned

The notes of my favorite composer’s darkness took center stage. Taut muscles in my neck and back softened and eased the bite in my chest. Air streamed through my nose and mouth in slower breaths.

Beethoven wasn’t just music to me. I related to his inner struggles of his deafness and loneliness. The twist from melancholy to joy in the final verses gave me hope that I, too, could triumph against adversity. Despite his failing hearing, he was a pioneer, composing groundbreaking and boundary-pushing music for his time with raw emotional depth not encountered before. His symphonies carried me through a gamut of emotions and taught me how to understand the human condition when I had no reference for it.

“That’s better, isn’t it, buddy?” Tor gave my arm another pump, smiled, and let me go, respecting my space.

Normally, Astra was the one to comfort me, but my brothers stepped up to the plate, and my connection to them deepened.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled up at Tor, breaking apart the ache in my jaw from clenching it tightly.

Tor nodded at the doctor and leaned down on the gurney’s arm. “I just got new Cupid’s Vengeance and Captain Victorius comics delivered. Wanna read them with me once this is done?”

I barely felt the wrap of a tourniquet around my bicep or the intrusion of metal in my skin as the doctor delicately drew blood. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Or play some chess?” Knoxe’s question stopped me from glancing sideways at the blood being drawn. He preferred the games to the comics than nerding out like Tor, Astra, and me, reading the villain’s dialogue out loud.

Yesterday, Knoxe and Loco finished questioning the vampire captives, collecting evidence in their case, and preparing them for transport back to their worlds for arraignment.

Afterwards, Knoxe returned to my room, spending the day with Tor and me, listening to music, playing a few games, and planning our lives once we were released from the Guardians. Activities that helped to pass the boredom of being stuck in a hospital bed. Honestly, I was surprised he wanted to hang out with me when finalizing the Styx contract. Collecting our bounty points and reviewing the thief avatar’s data to round up the escaped prisoners seemed critical compared to babysitting me.

“Knoxe wants an ass-kicking, does he?” Tor teased with a wink Knoxe’s way, who wasn’t the best with board games, being more a sports guy.

“I think you do.” Knoxe winked back.

Knoxe. Winking. Joking. Having. Fun. Were the heavens falling from the sky? Pride injected into my veins at being able to recognize humor when previously I couldn’t understand emotion or facial expressions. I worked so hard with Dr. Anders, and private sessions with Astra, until I got it right. After almost twenty eight years, I finally began to feel more normal.

He moved to the side of the bed and play-punched Tor, and they engaged in mock wrestling, ending with Tor kissing the side of Knoxe’s head. I enjoyed those two getting along smoother after months of tension before and after Astra arrived. They separated with a laugh, and Tor roughly pulled Knoxe in for a heavy kiss. My dick twitched, thinking of the next time we shared a bed together.

My cock fell still when the clip releasing on my left shoulder said the doctor removed the tourniquet, and moments later, off came the blood collection tube from the vacutainer. The rattle said he placed the serum tube in the plastic basket. I knew all the names from asking Dr. Simmons, and him going through the process with me to ease my mind.

“One down, Mr. Fielding, two more to go.” I appreciated that he kept me informed but also wanted it to be over with.

Beethoven’s beat wobbled, and I glued my eyes to Tor for grounding my anxiety before it took off.

“You’re doing good, buddy.” His praise set off a new string of melodies that I hadn’t heard before. Light, relaxing, friendly, brotherly even. Pleasant notes mixed in with the inspirational ones coming from the doctor’s phone.

Each day, I felt accepted by them. One of them—their brother, teammate and lover. The darkness and challenges of Beethoven’s world that represented mine began to shift into the joy and celebration of his triumphs.

A second serum tube unclipped from the vacutainer.

“Just one more to go, Mr. Fielding, then we’ll be done,” the doctor advised.

I shot out my hand and clasped Tor’s. He returned the tight grip, and I felt like he’d always protect me and never let me go.

“Thanks, Doc,” my brother said for me when my voice vaporized.

Scratchy, sinister violin strings plucked in the background.

“What do you want for lunch?” Knoxe added to my distractions.

My earlier hunger dissolved, I didn’t want to think about food yet.

“How about I get some sandwiches?” he suggested, and I nodded absently. “Back in a bit.” He clapped me on the leg and left. A pleasant warmth lingered where he touched me, longing for his hands back.

“All done.” The doctor removed the needle from my arm and disposed of the sharps. “I’ll have the results tomorrow, and we’ll have a meeting with the warden to discuss.”

I croaked out a thank you and reclined back in my pillows.

Tor shot out a fist for me when the doctor departed. “Good on you, buddy.”

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