Hero & Villain

Calen | 1307w

  Silence reigns for a long moment as both Crossword and I wait for Macer to say something. My mind races, coming up with different scenarios and possibilities. If he doesn't agree, more Hunters will surely come, and we won't be able to fight them off forever. If he does agree, he'll probably not be able to stay here in this city. He'll probably have to move to a more active one, more centrally located, where he'll be needed more. I suppose I could move with, but... but I'm needed here, in this city.

  "How?" Macer asks eventually, his voice worrying quiet.

  Crossword seems relieved to have not been immediately killed, dropping their head back onto the ground as they answer. "You would have to come with me to find an Elder. If they agreed, you would be given a tattoo of our symbol, anywhere of your choosing. You would come whenever we call, and get rid of whoever we choose."

  I don't like that. Whoever they choose, no questions asked? I mean of course Macer has killed people before, many people, but it was his choice, and looking back he never actually killed anyone I hadn't been actively investigating or would have investigated had I known about them. I'm coming to realize that I trust his judgment. Theirs, however? The fact that they came for Macer is a testament to how bad their judgement must be.

  "Would I have to move?" Macer asks, straightening from his crouch over Crossword. The flames around Crossword's wrists disappear, though the ones on Macer's hands remain.

  "Most likely, yes. The Elders have preferred cities," Crossword says, confirming my fears. They sit up and look between Macer and I, a spark of understanding in their eyes when they settle on me. "You could become a Hunter as well."

  "No, he stays here." Macer spits out before I can say anything.

  Crossword ignores him, eyes still trained on me. I sigh and sink into a crouch, raking my hands through my hair. "I stay here," I agree in a hoarse whisper.

  Crossword just shrugs, gaze shifting to Macer again. "We should leave as soon as possible. If I take too long here they will send in reinforcements."

  Macer extinguishes his hands and glances at me quickly. His eyes aren't glowing nearly as bright as they were a few minutes ago. "Give me twelve hours, I have things I need to wrap up here," he demands.

  "Six," Crossword counters, almost sounding apologetic. "We really can't wait for too long. We'll all be in danger if reinforcements show up."

  Macer growls, and I look up just in time to see him turn away from Crossword. "Fine," he snaps, starting toward me. "But we better not see you before our six hours are up."

  He stops in front of me, and before I can even protest he's picking me up. I'm about to say I can fly just fine on my own, thank you very much, until I realize my wings are nowhere to be felt. Macer rises into the air, holding me firmly, and I let my head drop onto his chest.

  "I don't want you to leave," I murmur, slowly snaking my arms around his neck.

  His skin is hot to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. Like a heated blanket. "I don't want to leave, but..." he trails off, sounding unsure.

  "We can't fight them all, I know." I rouse myself from my stupor enough to look around and see that we're floating down in front of a house I don't recognize. "Where are we?" I ask as he lands gently on the ground. I halfheartedly try to wiggle out of his grasp, giving in when he tightens his hold.

  "My backup house. It's smaller, and I haven't checked on it in like six months, so it's probably pretty dusty too," he tells me, lifting off the ground a few feet to grab the key from the gutter. "There isn't any food either, so we'll have to order something."

  He locks the door behind us, then trudges toward what I assume is the living room. There's a blanket draped over the couch, and when he pulls it off I see a small puff of dust rise off it. He gently settles me onto the couch, then crouches in front of me and rests his forehead on my knees. He seems sad.

  I lean back and close my eyes, hardly registering his hands gripping my thighs as I try to shift through my memories. We were looking for the kid. I changed in the air, and... oh, I kissed him.

  A smile spreads across my face. The memory has a haze to it, which means I wasn't in this form for very long at all. The same goes for the next memory I find, and I can only assume it's the foster girl I'm doing a puzzle with. So we did find her then, good.

  But... why is Macer sad? I vaguely remember something about leaving, or moving, and not being able to fight people?

  Instead of trying to pick through my memories, I decide to simply ask. "Why are you sad?" I ask, surprised at how hard it is to open my eyes and force out the whisper. It feels like I've shifted multiple times since I shifted from this form before, but that's not possible. I can't shift from any form into another without shifting back into this one first... right?

  "Macer?" I ask hesitantly when he doesn't reply. He shakes his head, and I let out a breath. "Lance."

  "Because I don't want to leave... you," he says, his voice wobbling. My eyebrows furrow, and I weakly reach out to run a hand through his disheveled hair.

  "Why would you leave?" I ask, starting to worry. "Didn't we find the girl? Didn't we save her?" I ask, my fingers involuntarily scraping against his scalp when my arm spasms.

  He finally looks up, and I see a whole slideshow of emotions cross through his pale blue eyes. "Of course we did," he says finally, the glossy shine in his eyes slowly retreating. "It's just... I have some business to take care of in about six hours, and it might take a while," he rushes out, and I worry he's annoyed that I don't remember. "And we just went through an ordeal and I know you're drained and I don't want to leave you like this."

  I smile, huffing out a relieved breath. He seemed so upset, I was worried it was something more distressing than leaving me to fend for myself for a little while. Although, I can't help but feel touched that he cares so much.

  "Oh, Lance, that's no problem. I've taken care of myself for years, I think I can handle another day," I assure, and brush my hand through his hair again. With my other hand, I grasp one of his, which is gripping my thigh rather forcefully. "Come on, cheer up, we have six hours you say? I seem to recall being rushed the last time we were together, and I wasn't able to take my time while... hm... showing you how I feel."

  He blinks up at me, then slowly, a smile spreads across his face. "I seem to recall the same thing happening when I showed you how I feel," he replies, fingers curling into my thighs even more.

  I'm about to retort something about how he didn't actually have to be rushed, he just chose to be, and I wouldn't have been opposed to him taking his time, but I much prefer his way of continuing the conversation. Or, well, ending it.

  He surges forward, leaning on my thighs, trapping me in place while he plants his lips onto mine... and doesn't pull away.