Page 38 of Tempest

“I just said that, didn’t I? You’re like a snake, trying to slither to safety, hissing to scare people away before you have to bite them. And your magic—did you know, when you use it I can see lightning in your eyes. The comparison seemed apt.”

Iason finally went still, once it was clear that Levi was simply not going to let him go. “If this is how you think you seduce someone, you’re worse at it than I am.”

“But you haven’t even tried,” Levi pointed out.

“Then, fine, you’re terrible at it.” Iason was still vibrating slightly with his magic, but he looked contemplative instead of angry. “We don’t have snakes in Mislia.”

“I assure you, you do. Just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“No, I—” He stopped, as if working something out, then spoke with a note of excitement. “I just remembered something. It’s an old myth. About the mages and their demons, driving the Old Ones into the dark. There’s a song mages learn about it. But it was forbidden to speak of them, so we called them snakes instead.”

Levi, bored by this lesson in Mislian euphemisms, leaned down as if he was going to kiss Iason again. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“That last vision, memory, it was where we trained. The one with Alistair and the Archmage. Maybe it wasn’t what we were doing that was important. Maybe what mattered is where it took place.” He put his hands on Levi’s chest and pushed. “Let me out of your clutches, dragon. I’ve work to do.”

“What does this have to do with snakes?” Levi asked, somewhat surprised to realize he actually wanted to know. He liked how Iason’s hands felt on him, and it seemed a waste of a moment for Iason to go running off when they were alone here, a storm brewing on the horizon, fresh soft grass at their feet and Sophie off with her friends.

“The catacombs. That’s where the mages drove the Old Ones, the ‘snakes.’ Maybe we can find some answers there. But we need to go now, before Sophie tries to follow. I don’t want her anywhere near them.”

Levi sighed and let go of Iason’s shoulders. “If she finds out there is a place she shouldn’t go, that’s where she’s going to want to go. That’s how humans are.”

“Just put on a shirt and someshoesand come with me,” Iason said. He started toward the house. “And you might want to dump a bucket of cold water over yourself.”

Levi glanced down, eyebrows raised. His cock was still thinking about Iason’s body against his, feisty and sparking with magic and arguing with a god as if he had any chance of winning. “You should be flattered, you know.”

Iason said something under his breath, but Levi couldn’t quite catch what it was. No matter.

He’d concede to the shoesorthe shirt, but not both. In addition to going where they weren’t supposed to, humans worefartoo many clothes.

ChapterSix

Two cats trotted across the sand at the mouth of the Mislian crypts. One was sleek and black, a lucky cat in Mislian folklore, with a long tail that lashed at the air as it slunk low to the ground. The other was an enormous, almost perfectly spherical cat of orange fluff with a bottle-brush tail and a jeweled collar, and it pranced like a show pony a few steps behind the black cat.

“I can’t believe you made me look like this,” Levi said. His voice came from somewhere above the fluffy cat, and Iason smiled. He made the illusion of the fluffy cat roll onto its back and bat at the air, and heard Levi huff in annoyance.

It was better to mask themselves as cats than to trek across the beach while invisible—no one would notice if a cat had a strange shadow, but they would be alarmed if the sand started moving on its own or if shadows flitted about without anything to ground them. So, Iason made Levi’s cat image roll, ball-like, into the entrance of the crypts before he dispelled the illusion.

Levi appeared, scowling. “You could have given me something dignified.”

“I think that was fairly accurate, actually.” Iason turned to walk into the crypts, which ran beneath the streets of Mislia, parallel to the sewers. “And I gave you a fancy collar. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

“I don’twearcollars. They’re a human invention. And I know you’re smiling; stop that.”

“Oh, I never smile,” Iason said. “I’m mirthless and unfeeling. I need a light; may I—”

“Go ahead.”

Iason drew on Levi’s power just enough to conjure a globe of light in his hand. The dim rays slid over the skulls of calcified skeletons a few paces away, deepening their empty eye sockets and open maws. The skeletons of Old Ones lined the crypts, some shifted into their dragon forms, others looking all too human, and a few caught somewhere in between. Iason twisted round to check on Levi, who was looking at them with an expression he couldn’t quite interpret.

“I know you said you’re nothing alike,” Iason said, “but they do share your form, to an extent.”

“Careful, wizard.” Levi’s voice was almost gentle. “That sounded like concern.” He walked up to one of the dragon-like skeletons, touching its muzzle. “It was my brother Arwyn – Avarice -- who mourned them the most. But we had a sibling, once, who was like them.” He jerked his head toward one of the skeletons caught between forms. “A child of an Old One and a mortal. She became the dream keeper, for a time. That was before Mislia killed their Old Ones.”

“They could mate with humans?” Iason took a step back from the skeletons, eyeing them cautiously.

“Many of these are products of that kind of union,” Levi said. “Old Ones in their original form were more like spirits than dragons… or perhaps they were more like demons. I didn’t pay much attention, but they liked to join me when I flew over Mislia. If you called these Old Ones,” he gestured, “then you were likely worshipping—and killing—beings who were part human. Not that it would have stopped you if you knew.”

“I suppose not.” Iason forced himself to move on, passing the skeletons lying on the stone floor. They were lined neatly against the wall, almost reverently, and there were places where broken bones had been arranged in a semblance of order. Someone had taken care to treat the bodies gently—a light mage perhaps, or a sympathizer. “But one became a god?”

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