The Sage

Chang | Shannon | Ling | Dylan | Astor| Gage

Part I: Chang

"Chang, your family is one the wealthiest and most respected in china town. They own the most famous Chinese restaurant in the state. Probably in several states. Why in the bloody hell are you sitting in this hole-in-the-wall Chinese buffet?"

"Their fried rice and banana pudding is killer," Chang replied. "Iced tea is perfect. I keep trying to get my mom to make it, but she won't. What do you want, Astor?"

Rolling his eyes, Astor shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook on the side of the booth, then slid into the cracked and faded booth seat across from Chang. He was slightly damp from sprinting from his car to the restaurant, rain pounding against the windows loudly enough almost to drown out the pseudo-Asian music playing over the speakers. "Just dropped Ling off, saw your car, though I'd come say hello."

Chang grunted and returned to decimating his plate of fried rice. "It is a shame to our family that my brother has such poor taste as you."

"What can I say? Kitties like birds, and I am a very pretty bird."

Bright blonde hair, eyes that were damn near yellow, a deep tan that never vanished, and as a boy Astor had, when they were eleven, entered the Little Miss Thompson Elementary pageant - and made it to the final five before he was caught. He could no longer pass for a girl, but he was pretty.

"You're an idiot," Chang retorted, and stood up to get more fried rice. He gave the kid at the dessert buffet a warning look. If the brat took all the banana pudding, there was going to be a fight.

When he returned to the table, Astor was drinking hot tea - far too hot to be swallowed like that, unless of course you were Astor - and snickering. "Chang, stop glaring at little kids."

"Kids require discipline," Chang replied. "Just look at what happened to my little brother, when my parents let his upbringing slide."

Astor rolled his eyes again, and stood to get his own food. When he turned, his plate was heaped with Kung Pao Chicken, Beef Szechuan, Szechuan Shrimp, General Tso's Chicken and a few Buffalo wings.

Chang grimaced and resumed eating his own fried rice - vegetable, not even a hint of meat. It was one of the other reasons he preferred this place; they were very particular to keep the veggie stuff separate from anything made with meat.

"Would you like a bit of flesh?" Astor asked with a grin, holding out a buffalo wing.

"Get that away from me or I will pluck every last one of your feathers."

Sniggering, Astor resumed decimating the contents of his plate. "So what are you doing all day, Chang?"

"Avoiding my parents," Chang said shortly. "I think that if they knew about our search for the Sage, they still would not consider it half as important as finding me a wife."

Astor devoured a chicken wing and threw the bare bones back down on his plate, licking buffalo sauce from his fingers. "You weren't betrothed at birth?"

"Every family they considered had only sons."

"They could have mail-ordered from the motherland," Astor pointed out. "Plenty of available girls there."

Chang threw a bit of carrot at him. "If you dare to suggest that within my parents' hearing, I will tell them all about you and Ling."

"Empty threat," Astor said with a grin. "Cause then I can turn right around and tell them what sort of porn you used to hide under your mattress."

Ignoring that, Chang finished eating his fried rice and went to relieve the dessert buffet of its remaining banana pudding.

"Speaking of your mother," Astor said as he sat back down, "does she know you come here?"

Chang glared. "What is your problem? My brother didn't give you a blowjob before he ran off with Shannon so you've come to relieve tension by pissing me off?"

Astor grinned.

"Don't answer that," Chang said before he could speak. "So what are you doing the rest of the day?"

"Nothing, really," Astor replied. "Are you up to something?"

Chang shook his head. "Not really. Doing something for Dylan."

"He goes golfing with your dad. He can pay for lackeys that don't have your attitude problem."

Pushing away his empty plate, Chang finished his iced tea and threw money down on the table, swiping one of the fortune cookies a waitress had dropped off earlier with the check. He ate the bits of cookie as he climbed into Astor's car; when they worked together, Astor almost always drove. As they pulled out of the parking lot, he finally replied to Astor's statement. "He says there's a slim possibility this might be Sage business. We both doubt it, but I said I'd check it out. He suggested dragging one of you along, but I didn't know where anyone was today and didn't feel like figuring it out."

Astor nodded, still munching fortune cookie, muffling a curse as someone cut him off. He pulled to a stop at the light and glanced down at his fortune and burst out laughing. "Ancient Chinese Wisdom says 'true love will soon be yours'" He winked. "In bed."

Rolling his eyes, Chang glanced at his own fortune. "I get 'Plan for many pleasures ahead.' Sheesh." He rolled his eyes again.

"Oh, hey, I'll trade." Stopping as they reached the next red light, Astor held out his slip of paper. "I already have true love; and I never get tired of 'many pleasures'. Your brother-"

"Shut up," Chang cut in.

"Hurry up and trade," Astor said, and for a moment his eyes seemed to flicker and glow, as though something within them was burning.

Chang shook his head. "No way, bird. I'm not-" before he could finish speaking, Astor snatched his fortune away and pressed his own into Chang's hand.

"There," he said with a grin, and shoved his fortune in his jacket before Chang could snatch it back.

"Phoenix," Chang said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"No trade backs," Astor replied cheerfully.

Chang subsided into a sour silence.

"So where are we going?"

"The train station," Chang said, still scowling. "Dylan's got an old friend who trots the globe on some megalomaniac business thing. His son has recently finished college and all, father wants him to 'get a feel for the real world' but feared favoritism and shit in his own company."

Astor snorted. "So he sent him to work for his friend?"

"That friend being Dylan," Chang reminded.

"Ah, yes." Astor stopped talking after that, falling into swearing, threats, and hand gestures as he negotiated downtown traffic and finally reached the train station. "So why does this kid stand a slim chance of being the Sage?" he asked.

Chang shrugged. "Well-traveled, well-learned from what Dylan says. I mean his dad travels pretty much everywhere, and his family goes with him. But he's young, only 23, so the chances of his being the Sage…"

"Every possibility must be checked out," Astor said with a sigh, shoving through the main doors and irritably shaking off the rain.

"Poor birdie getting soaked?" Chang asked, dodging a playful swipe, raking back his own damp hair - short and neat, the way his mother liked, because she'd let him keep his pierced ear. He touched the stud set in it; a simple amethyst, but the color had stalked his dreams all his life. The Sage, he knew, was somehow connected with the color.

Despite himself, though he knew this was pretty much a waste of time, Chang could not help but hope. The Guardians were almost as anxious, but it wasn't the same. Their purpose was to protect. Chang was meant to serve, to guide, to assist. He wasn't complete without a Sage to serve.

Every time he went to investigate a possibility, his hopes got dashed.

Digging his cell out of his pocket, he pulled up the picture Dylan had sent him. The man was handsome, sort of aristocratic looking, like the people Dylan schmoozed with all the time but without the sour edge that came with doing it too long. He couldn't tell the eye color, but even in the tiny pic on his phone they came off as focused. If anything, Chang thought he was too good looking to be the Sage. The way his own luck constantly ran, he would be stuck serving some ugly smartass who thought Astor's jokes were funny. Too bad, because the ash blonde hair and fair skin were pretty indeed. He could have stood serving this man for the rest of his life, at least so far as the view went.

He showed the picture to Astor, then snapped his phone shut and shoved it back in the pocket of his jacket - a gift from his mother, he suspected sometimes she'd had it custom made. Stupid, it was just denim, but that was his mother. He half wondered if she'd have their underwear tailor made if anyone let her.

Following the signs, he finally settled in a rather sketchy looking chair and waited. Technically the train was due ten minutes ago, but anyone who lived in the city long enough knew all trains arrived at least a half hour late.

Beside him, Astor stretched out and dozed. Chang put out a quiet pulse to keep everyone back, that Astor would be able to catch a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep. He reached out to gently brush strands of hair from Astor's cheeks, smiling faintly at the mark low on his neck left by Ling.

He hoped they weren't being stupid about what marks were left on Ling. Some days he wasn't sure which would be more of a headache - revealing that the old family legend wasn't quite as ridiculous as his mostly-modern thinking parents thought, or that two of their five sons preferred kissing other boys.

Sighing, Chang cast his eyes over the crowd, willing his Sage to appear.

It was hard, waiting. His patience and perseverance were constantly complimented, and he'd never been able to tell anyone that he just faked it really well. He wanted the Sage to appear. So long they'd been waiting. In just over a month he'd be twenty-eight. He'd always thought he would at his Sage's side by now.

So meticulously they'd worked to make this city fit, for it was not coincidence that they all had come together here, and met. This was where their Sage would come…but when?

He stirred from his thoughts as he heard the arrival call for their train, and gently nudged Astor awake, tugging him up and moving to stand at the edge of the crowd.

People trickled out in a sardine-like crowd, but Chang did not see their quarry among any of them.

Astor patted his head. "It's okay; I'll keep an eye out, short stuff."

"I'm five seven and three quarters," Chang said icily.

"And that's very tall for a Chinaman, yes," Astor said with the patronizing tone only he would dare use to harass Chang.

Chang slapped his hand away. "Go to hell."

Astor grinned, but before he could further goad his eyes snapped back to the crowd. "There he is." He whistled. "Sure Dylan isn't asking us to pick up a trick?"

"Yeah, right. If he liked young and pretty, he would notice Shannon's mooning."

"I dunno, man. Dylan going to bed with 'an associate' and one almost fifteen years younger?" He dropped the conversation as Chang stepped forward and beckoned to the man for whom they'd been waiting.

"Mr. Profeta?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes away. The young man was much, much finer than his picture.

And it was more than a little pleasing the way those eyes widened at the sight of him.

"I'm Chang Wong. This is Astor Burnes. Dylan Waterhouse sent us to pick you up." He extended his hand, barely containing his reaction at the way the hand in his own seemed almost to tingle.

Unfortunately, it was only with lust. This man was not the Sage. Chang tamped down on his disappointment.

"Call me Gage," the young man said, frowning slightly as he looked at Chang. "I hope I have not put you out."

Astor sneezed hard before Chang could reply.

Chang immediately turned toward him. "What's wrong?" Astor didn't get sick; his body was too hot, everything burned away. He only sneezed for one reason - dark magic. Astor was mildly allergic.

"He's wearing something," Astor said, pulling out a handkerchief and sneezing again. "Not much, but enough."

"What's going?" Gage asked as Chang took his hand and all but dragged him through the terminal and out to Astor's car, shoving him into the backseat and pulling out his cell as Astor got them out of there, headed towards the house Dylan had just outside the city proper.

"Dylan," he said when the phone picked up. "Not it, but he's wearing dark magic. How should I know? Figured we'd get to your place first. Not like…shut up." He snapped the phone off. "Dylan says bring him, he'll call the others. Shannon can probably tell us the origins."

Gage shifted in the backseat. "Pardon my language, but what the fuck is going on here?"

Chang debated between telling him to shut up, or trying for at least a bit of the truth. He didn't really want to go with truth, but if the kid was wearing dark magic then he probably already knew a bit about what was going on anyway. "You're wearing something which contains dark magic. That means you or someone close to you doesn't like us much, or is trying to hide something."

"Or both," Astor muttered, then sneezed again.

Stifling a sigh, Chang fell silent. Between the Sage, his family - his mother, anyway - he seldom had any interest in what Astor called 'extracurricular activity'. The first man to stir a real interest in longer than he wanted to think about, and he was potentially a problem.

"Uh…do you mean the pendant my stepmother gave me?" Gage asked, unbuttoning his corduroy jacket and tugging out a plain silver medallion on a leather cord. Ostensibly it was plain, but as lightning flashed all around them, making the dark seem for a moment like high noon, there was no missing the runes spelled into it. Chang did not need his powers to read them; he had been thoroughly trained not to need them for such trivial things.

Marks of sealing, of harm to the Sacred should they touch it.

Swearing softly, Chang nodded. "What does your stepmother do?"

"She's a scientist," Gage replied. "Helps make and improve various drugs and medicines."

Chang and Astor swore together.

"The Alchemist," Astor said, sneezing hard, as though allergic to the word.

"Quite possibly," Chang said.

Gage started to speak, but before he could they pulled up in front of the sort of house that was always called an estate or a manor. Chang had always called it House Creepy, and no one had ever disagreed with him. It looked like it had tumbled from the pages of a horror novel, and he swore sometimes Dylan arranged for the frequently-foul weather that made it look even worse.

Making a face, he climbed out of the car and bolted for the porch. "I'm sick of rain," he said to no one in particular. Astor and Gage both nodded.

"She said it was for good luck and safe journey," Gage said quietly, fingering the pendant. "She's always…been into stuff like that."

"I'd imagine so," said a strong, firm voice. "Chang. Astor. You must be Billy's son."

Gage nodded. "Yes. You're Mr. Waterhouse. Thank you for having me. My father sends his greetings."

"Dylan, please," Dylan said warmly, though his dark brown eyes never left the pendant Gage still held. "This way. Shannon and Ling beat you here. I'll go fetch refreshments."

Rolling their eyes, because Shannon had completely cheated in traveling under cloud cover, they followed Dylan into what was far too grand to be called a living room. No, no. It was a parlor or front room. About the only thing it was missing was a horrific story to be told around the fire before people got locked up in the house and started killing each other.

He moved to sit in on the long couch opposite the chairs occupied by two other men - one looked almost exactly like himself. Short, black hair, dark eyes, their Chinese descent unmistakable except to those who thought all Asians looked alike.

Shannon occupied the other chair. His parents were on the board of the local university, both with academic backgrounds so prestigious it took an hour and a half to go through it all. Shannon was unmistakably their offspring, with more degrees and accolades and whatever all else at twenty seven than even his parents had - except that he focused on religion, mythology, literature, and history rather than the dizzying array of math and science his parents preferred.

They had never forgiven him that, so Shannon had never bothered trying to explain that his scientific mother was the one who passed on the gene that made him the Dragon. He had blue-black hair and shockingly blue eyes, and a metabolism that kept him skinny and for which Chang hated him.

He rolled his eyes at the way his little brother all but threw himself into Astor's arms. "How've you been, Shannon?"

Shannon looked up from his laptop. "Well enough, thank you. Yourself?"

"Been better, I think, but you know. If I'd known I was going to see you today, I would have brought the candies I snitched from our latest shipment."

The mention of candy made Shannon brighten, but he waved a hand carelessly. "S'okay. I'll come by tomorrow and drop off those books I borrowed."

Seeing his brother and Astor still had not separated, Chang stole his brother's seat and left them to steal the sofa. He was pondering throwing something heavy at them, just for the hell of it, when Dylan reappeared.

Dylan didn't own the entire city, but it wasn't because he couldn't - he just firmly believed in the old 'slow and steady' axiom. A more conniving Turtle, Chang suspected, had never been born. This Turtle's shell was a tailored three piece suit. Today's choice was a deep brown to match his hair, a tie that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes.

The minute he walked in the room, Shannon's typing fell off abruptly. Dylan was smart about a lot of things, but Shannon wasn't one of them.

Sighing, Chang accepted the brandy Dylan held out to him, finally permitting his eyes to wander back to the young man standing anxiously beside the giant fireplace. "Welcome to the Mausoleum. Also know as House Creepy."

Gage's lips twitched. "I was thinking more House of Usher."

"I like my house, thank you very much," Dylan said with exaggerated pomp. "Now, my boy, why are you wearing that vile pendant?"

Momentary levity fading, Gage reached up to fiddle restlessly with his pendant. "My stepmother gave it to me, for good luck. I mean, she's into weird stuff…you called her The Alchemist before…"

Dylan rippled with surprise. "Truly?"

Gage frowned at them. "Uh…she doesn't know but I've heard other people call her that. She gave me this a day before I left, said she really would miss me." He flushed guiltily. "I shouldn't be saying this stuff."

Chang set his glass and stood up, moving to stand beside Gage, hardly realizing what he'd done until he was there. "It's alright. You've no reason to trust us, Gage, but I promise that you can. She gave you the necklace? Does she often give you such gifts?"

"No," Gage said slowly, wrinkling his nose. "But she always cooks our meals and makes me eat them. Doesn't matter where we are, what we're doing. At least one meal a day she makes and I have to eat. Always tastes nasty, but dad doesn't want to hurt her feelings." He shrugged, looking at Chang before dropping his gaze again. "Same reason I had to wear the necklace. Dad didn't want to hurt her feelings, so he made me take off the necklace my mom gave me." His face clouded as he spoke, clearly angry and hurt over this. "So I did. Somehow it doesn't surprise me she's evil - that's what you're saying right?"

Chang nodded. "Yeah, yeah she's evil. The question is - who are you that she wants to hide you from us?"

Gage licked his lips. "Who are you? Can I get rid of it?"

"Break it," Shannon said, pushing his glasses up his face. "Yank it off, break the chain."

Immediately Gage obeyed, reaching up and yanking hard at the necklace. Chang could still feel the poisonous magic, the way it kept them from touching Gage, from sensing whatever it was the medallion was blocking.

"Astor," Shannon said, motioning to the fire.

Chang grimaced and motioned Gage away.

Grinning, Astor let go of Ling and moved to the fire. He ran a hand through his hair, and when it fell away he was holding a brilliant scarlet and gold feather about the length of his hand. His eyes flashed as he tossed it into the fire, and suddenly the room was stifling, so hot that Chang longed for water. Dylan looked positively miserable.

"Throw it in the fire," Shannon ordered.

Gage stepped forward and tossed the necklace into the flames.

Astor returned the flames to normal with a lazy motion of his hand.

Chang went still, eyes widening in shock, and he nearly fell over as from his pocket Gage pulled another necklace - a string of amethyst. Against his fair skin, they were positively beautiful.

More beautiful still was the sudden way this young man called to him.

He knew from their silence that the others had seen by his expression just what Gage was.

"Sage," Chang breathed, taking Gage's hand and lifting it to his lips. Wholly inappropriate, his traditional parents would be horrified by his behavior, but Chang could only act.

The hand in his shook with surprise before going still. "What?" Gage asked. "Why…why am I not surprised you just did that?"

"Honored Sage," Dylan said, sweeping an elegant half-bow. "We have waited all our lives for this moment." The other three stood to stand with him, forming a neat line.

"What's going on?" Gage asked.

"They are you Sacred Guardians, and I suppose I should have introduced you normally before." He did not let go of the hand in his as he indicated each of the men in turn. "Dylan Waterhouse you know, of course. He is also Turtle, Guardian of the North. Astor is Phoenix, Guardian of the South. Shannon Skye is Dragon, Guardian of the East. Ling is my younger brother, and he is also Tiger, Guardian of West."

Gage nodded. "Those sound familiar. My mother used to tell me a story…"

"Your mother sounds like she was part of our world."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Gage said softly, smiling sadly as he thought of her. He shook his head slightly and looked at Chang. "Who are you?"

"He is Qilin," Dylan answered. "Your confidant, advisor, and companion for as long as you travel this road. His powers are yours alone to command. We all have waited long to serve you, Sage…but he has had the longest, most difficult wait."

Chang shot him a nasty glare. "Shut up or I'll have my mother turn you into soup."

Dylan snickered.

"So I'm…a sage?"

"You are the Sage," Chang said. "Wise and knowing; meant to guide the world."

"Is that all?" Gage asked weakly. "I don't see why I'm so special."

Shannon pushed his glasses up. "Therein lies part of your distinction. But you are also young yet, as are we all."

"Except Turtle," Astor taunted, grinning when Dylan pointedly ignored him. "We'll explain more as we go along, never fear. I'm guessing if your mother didn't explain it all, then you must have been in near-danger most of your life."

Gage nodded.

"Come, dinner should nearly be ready," Dylan said. "We'll eat in the kitchen."

"Oh, good," Ling said. "I hate your dining room."

Dylan made a face and led the way out, muttering about kids having no sense of humor.

As they walked, Gage's hand stayed clasped with Chang's. "So you're different from the others?"

"Yes," Chang said slowly, wondering if the question was good or bad. He could not tell for certain. "They guard, I advise. My sole purpose is to stand by your side, no matter what happens."

Gage smiled. "That doesn't sound so bad," he said quietly, eyes darting away.

Chang's brows went up. So he hadn't misread that moment at the train station. Interesting. His entire life had been spent waiting to serve his Sage…he had never pondered just how deep the relationship might run.

He smiled briefly, to think of how his parents would react if they knew of all this - that their son was Qilin, born to serve the Sage. If they did, their love of tradition would reach all new levels. They would have all but beaten out of him the notion of intimacy with the Sage.

They often had despaired at the state of his thoughts and mannerisms, constantly berating themselves for permitting him to go to public schools, hang out with 'that troublemaker' (and how he wanted to be there the day they found out what 'that troublemaker' did with Ling).

Meaning, essentially, that Chang had no problems whatsoever broadening the Sage's horizons in certain matters.

Part II: Shannon

He'd long ago learned that life wasn't fair. In fact, according to his careful analyses, life seemed to delight in being not fair.

Sometimes he swore that being what he was meant his life was more unfair that most, but he had to concede there was heavy personal bias involved in that conclusion.

All the same, he wished life would cut him a break.

His cell vibrated in his pocket and Shannon sighed at the name that came up. Demon 1. He flipped it open and mashed the accept button. "Hey, mom." He grimaced and waved the elevator to go on without him, stepping off to the side so no one in the crowded lobby crashed into him. "No, I'm not going to be-I can't-Mom! Mr. Waterhouse needs me tonight for-no, I can't excuse myself. Anyway, you've got-Mom! I'm sorry, Mom. In the elevator. I'll see you tomorrow for lunch, I promise. Meet him then. Love you, bye."

Sighing as it started ringing again, he shoved it back in his pocket and hopped into the next elevator.

Strictly speaking, Dylan didn't need him for anything. Dylan never needed him, which was just one more bit of unfairness in life. But Dylan did know the problems he had with his parents, and had 'hired him as an intern' so that Shannon was free to be Dragon.

The elevator rapidly emptied as it climbed higher and higher, until Shannon was the only one left when it reached the top. He resettled the strap of his beat up messenger bag and combed his fingers through his hair, then strolled into the front room of Dylan's office.

"Hello, Shannon," the secretary - she hated being referred to as an 'administrative assistant' like secretary was somehow a demeaning thing to be - said.

Shannon smiled. "Hey, Ginger. How's it going?"

"Well enough," she said with a smile. "Have some coffee, I just made it. Got some scones at the bakery this morning."

"Cool." Shannon strolled through the door off to the side and rapidly took advantage of her offer, smiling in thanks as he came back out to see Ginger arguing with someone on the phone.

He pushed open the door to Dylan's office and moved to the sitting area in the corner. Dylan's office was massive - his wrap around desk was all the way to the back, with a view of the city to Shannon's left. The front left corner was the sitting area, the front right had a long meeting table.

Setting down his coffee and cinnamon scone, he quickly set up his laptop and settled down to work.

All four of the Guardians, and especially Qilin, possessed extraordinary intelligence, skill - all of it. It was a necessity. But their skills all lay in different areas. Astor and Ling guarded up close. He and Dylan protected from afar.

Dylan was more physical. He'd turned the city into a veritable fortress. Dozens upon dozens of buildings had been demolished, rebuilt. Parks revamped, new structures erected, all because Dylan Waterhouse was quite the entrepreneur and generous in his donations to the city. But every change was meticulous and particular, layered with spells and charms; slowly and steadily he was making the Sage's new home an impenetrable shell.

Shannon's realm was less tangible. His parents could not stand that he had chosen the humanities over the sciences, but he had never been able to tell them there was never really a choice in the matter.

Pulling up his programs, he began steadily checking all his shields and barriers, fixing those which had weakened, slightly altering the functions of others according to the data retrieved since the last time he'd looked them over.

He typed at dizzying speed, frequently switching between dozens of languages, more magic involved in his work than even the best sorcerers knew about. It had taken him five years to develop his laptop, the unique programs on it - but he'd done it. Magic at the press of a few keys.

The door opened and he fumbled, swearing softly and deleting the bad rune. He reached for his coffee, then thought better of it. Whenever Dylan was around, all he did was spill or drop something.

"Hiding out again?" Dylan asked with a smile. There was affection in it, but the sort of affection he showed all of them. Dylan might be tough, stubborn, and highly intimidating to most - but the clichés about hard shells and soft interiors were very true in all their cheesy glory.

Shannon grimaced, reaching for his coffee very slowly, shoving his laptop aside so his barriers didn't fall because he dumped gourmet coffee all over them. "Mom wants me to meet some big shot bookworm in town whom she 'thinks I'll like'."

Dylan laughed. "So what do I have you doing?"

"I have no idea, I just said you needed me and that I couldn't bow out," Shannon replied, setting his coffee down unspilled and feeling quite proud. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and went back to work, wishing he could block Dylan out.

But he heard every sound, every movement, and even from here he could smell traces of Dylan's cologne; it was sharp, not wholly unappealing, but Shannon far preferred the underlying hint of the sea beneath it. No doubt the cologne was a gift from someone Dylan was manipulating.

He forced his attention back where it should be, frowning as he pulled up the wards around the train station. When Gage had arrived, he'd noticed some damage done to them - later, of course, he'd learned it was the medallion Gage had been wearing. He'd repaired the minor damage and all had been well since. That was a week ago. Everything had been fine when he'd checked an hour ago, and he had not been alerted to any sort of breach in the defenses.

Yet now there was a definite cut in the train station wards. Shannon frowned. Something about the train station…he should have been alerted. The ward had been neatly, carefully cut, but not so well that it would have gone unnoticed.

Something about the train station did not get along with his magic…magic period, quite possibly. He would have to address the problem, but later - right now his bigger concern was who had gotten into their city that had the power simply to cut through his magic.

That bespoke a skill he did not like one bit.

"What's wrong?"

Shannon startled, head jerking up - and inwardly cringed at Dylan's soft laughter. Unfair, but par for the course, to always look like an idiot. He sternly reminded himself there was something more important than his hopeless crush. "Someone's breached my magic, and without alerting me. Train station, same as when Gage arrived with the medallion."

"Something to do with the trains, perhaps," Dylan replied, immediately sliding into the role of Guardian.

"Possibly," Shannon said, chewing on his bottom lip as he returned to his programs, repairing the damaged wards, strengthening all of them, extending them as far as he possibly could. "I should go check it out, and I need to see if I can trace the invader anyway."

Dylan nodded. "We'll both go. Perhaps there's something I can do. Let me change." He turned and vanished through a door at the back of his office, reemerging just as Shannon finished packing up his stuff.

He immediately looked away, but the image was seared in. Dylan never wore casual clothes. Shannon hadn't known he owned any. He'd always liked Dylan fine - more than - in the three piece suits. But jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket…

If only he were as bold as Astor or Chang, as happy-go-lucky as Ling. He wasn't though, and never would be. His meticulous nature was his strength, and it was his unwillingness to take risks that allowed him to build the wards and shields with the complexity and thoroughness he did.

Unfortunately, it also meant he'd rather die than tell Dylan how he felt.

He slung his bag across his chest and followed Dylan out. They didn't speak; they seldom had to when it came to their real work. It had always been the same between Astor and Ling, even before they'd become lovers.

Outside he buttoned his jacket up, fingers lingering on the soft suede. One of the few nice articles of clothing he bothered to buy himself; otherwise he was all about jeans and t-shirts, good boots (because sneakers didn't do so well some of the places he had to go in the course of a Dragon's day).

They eschewed a taxi, walking the six blocks so they could analyze and search as they worked, Dylan the spells he'd laid into the city itself, Shannon the spells he'd woven through and around it.

By the time they reached the train station, they'd gained no clue as to who had slipped into their city. "Should we inform the others yet?"

Dylan shrugged. "It could be a transient; albeit a not very nice one. No one is able to sense the Sage is here; we've taken care of that as thoroughly as anyone could."

"His stepmother knows he's here," Shannon said quietly.

Dylan nodded and paused briefly to check the massive statue in front of the train station. Merely of the man for whom the station was named, but hidden throughout were spells - to protect, to defend, and far more besides. "Something about this area has never taken to magic as well as everywhere else in the city; I have noticed the anomaly before. I had thought the problem overcome, however. It would seem I was wrong." He smiled faintly. "I am glad you're much more thorough than I in such matters."

Shannon shrugged and pulled out his laptop as they entered the terminal, slowing down as he typed in his password and opened a of couple programs. He swore as someone bumped into him, nearly knocking his laptop from its precarious perch on one arm - an arm slid around his waist, steadying him, and Shannon murmured an absent thanks as he went back to work.

He called up an analysis of the entire station, worrying his bottom lip as he worked. "I don't get it," he said quietly. "I see nothing that would explain why it's so resistant. No disruptive materials were used in the construction; no old spells interfering with ours…" Frowning, he gave up analyzing the station. "Maybe we're doing this wrong."

"How do you mean?" Dylan asked, and his voice was so close Shannon shivered in surprise - and it struck him abruptly that the arm around his waist, the warm hand settled so comfortably on his hip, belonged to Dylan.

Through sheer force of will, he forced himself to concentrate. He hoped hoped hoped Dylan hadn't noticed him shivering. "Uh-I mean-" He shook his head. "It's not the station, you and I have both analyzed it to death, and I've just done it again now. That leaves the ground itself, or the trains."

"And obviously it is not the trains," Dylan continued. "I think this is perhaps a problem for another day, unfortunately."

Shannon nodded. "I know, but I was hoping with this latest problem that something else would turn up. I've been running a search on the traces of magic left by cutting my ward, I just need to transfer the tracking spell to my phone-" He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, realizing absently he probably could have sat down to do all this but he hated sitting in crowded places.

Pulling his phone out, he realized suddenly he needed a hand free and didn't have one. "Uh-"

Dylan took the phone out of his hand, chuckling softly, and flipped it open. "What do I need to do, Shannon? You weave spells like no one I've ever met."

Shannon felt his cheeks heat, wondering why the words sounded intimate when they so clearly weren't. He was an idiot - one who needed to pay attention. "Just, uh, hit accept when it says I've got a text."

"Sure."

Nodding, Shannon went to work, typing up the spell to track their intruder. It would be hard, there was only the barest thread of residue to work from, but it was certainly better than nothing.

He heard his phone vibrate, Dylan accept, and his screen flashed as the first stage of the spell was accepted. Once upon a time, this had to be done laboriously by hand - chanting or writing, laying down the spells one by one…

Now all he had to do was lay a spell of connection between the two objects, tangling it with a simple email, and then transmit the main spell from there. His screen flashed as the spell took hold, and he heard his phone chime as it took effect. He closed his laptop and stuffed it back in his bag and turned to take his phone - and realized Dylan was still holding him.

Snatching his phone back, he stumbled away. "Weak signal toward the south," he said.

"Guess we're not walking that," Dylan said with a smile. "I'll call for a car."

Nodding, Shannon walked with him outside the station. With the efficiency that was Dylan's trademark, he had a car for them in a matter of minutes. Shannon slid in behind him, studiously keeping his attention on his phone and not on how many times he'd fantasized being pounced by Dylan in one of these rare instances they were alone together in one of his cars.

He frowned as the image on his phone changed. "We're headed just outside the city…to the University. Damn it."

Dylan laughed softly. "Any way to avoid your mother? At least your father is out of town."

"If he was home, they'd both be at the house," Shannon said with a sigh. "Ah, well. I'm with you, right? Means I'm working and she can't waylay me."

"Indeed," Dylan said with a smile. He fell silent as they made their way to the university.

Shannon could not help sneaking glances. He seriously had never known Dylan owned jeans, and he hoped to god the man never wore them again. Or the damned t-shirt. At least the suits helped Shannon sort of keep an impression of 'hands off'.

It totally wasn't fair. Astor had Ling, and Chang now had Gage. Any idiot could see those two were a done deal.

"We're here," Dylan said quietly, jerking Shannon from his thoughts.

He followed Dylan out of the car and made a face at the campus. Not that he hated it…he just hated that he was only his parents' son, and a son who had massively disappointed them.

Focusing on his phone, he led them through the massive campus. A lead weight settled in his stomach as he realized they were headed straight for the main science building. "Something weird is going on here," he said with a frown. "We're headed straight for my mother."

Dylan's brows went up at the strangeness of that, but he said nothing.

Sighing in resignation, Shannon led the way toward what turned out to be the lounge where his mother often took her guests. He'd be willing to bet good money that she'd made late reservations at her precious club, and that she was currently pretty pissed with him for ditching.

Oh, well.

He knocked on the door, three sharp raps, then pushed it open. "Mom-"

"Shannon!" She sounded torn between surprise and rage. All his looks came from her, as well as his 'my goal is anorexia and I'm nearly there' build. One more thing on the list of unfairness in his life. He didn't even want to get started on his girlie name. "Well it's about time-" She broke off as she took in Dylan.

Dylan gave her one of his notorious smiles; the ones that were no small part of the reason he owned at least half the city (the other half Astor maintained was owned by the Chinese mob he said was secretly run by Chang and Ling's family - Chang was never amused). "Professor Skye, it's good to see you again. I greatly enjoyed your lecture last weekend."

"Thank you," Professor Skye said, anger easing as she waited to see what was going on. She turned back to Shannon. "Shannon, I thought you were busy working tonight."

"I'm afraid I guilt-tripped him into a tiny lie," Dylan said, and Shannon nearly jumped out of his skin as a hand settled on the small of his back. "I worked hard on our tickets and did not want to lose them. He wanted to come and apologize at least, since he hates to disappoint you."

Professor Skye blinked. "Shannon-"

"I really am sorry, mom," Shannon said, pushing into the room, ostensibly ignoring the other man in the room. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow-"

She cut him off with a raised hand. "We'll have lunch tomorrow." Her eyes slid briefly to Dylan. "You can explain what precisely I'm missing here." She nodded toward the man who'd been sitting quietly the entire time. "Since you're here to make apologies… This is Professor Lemoine, the guest I wanted you to meet tonight."

"Oh, now, I would hate to interfere in a young man's date," the man said congenially. He did not offer to shake their hands, but Shannon hadn't expected him to. He'd sooner touch a live wire. Professor Lemoine looked like a gentile professor, right down to the warm and pleasant smile - but his gray eyes were hard as stone behind the designer spectacles. "You gentlemen should enjoy yourselves, by all means. I can barely keep pace with your mother, never mind her brilliant son as well."

"How long are you in town?" Shannon asked. "I'll make it up to you."

Those gray eyes flashed. "I'm only in briefly. I'll be making a longer trip later, but today I'm afraid I only lingered to spend some time with your mother."

"Then you shall have to let me make it up the next time you're in town."

"I'll look forward to it," Professor Lemoine replied.

Shannon wanted to zap him. Bastard. But that was all right. This small encounter was all he needed to ward against the bastard, and Lemoine knew it. Next time, he'd have to work harder to get inside - even in the train station, because they would figure that out.

Making their goodbyes, they swiftly retraced their steps.

He sat quietly back in the car, hearing Dylan give directions to the driver but not actually catching the words. "The Monk," he said quietly as Dylan settled down beside him. The realization of who they'd just met made him want to growl. All their spells, all their wards - clearly he needed to improve. "We need to fix that train station."

"We'll start on it once he's gone. To do anything now would give him advantage. At least he is not foolish enough to try anything."

Shannon made a face. "I wish he was," he said glumly. "Then he'd be an idiot and I wouldn't have to worry about him."

"No reason to worry now, and soon there will be no reason to worry at all," Dylan said calmly. "We should definitely relax tonight, for I sense we shall not be able to do it again for some time."

Nodding, Shannon turned his head to look out the window, not really seeing the city lights, the crowds of people. His eyes landed briefly on two people holding hands, heads bent close, and abruptly remembered what Dylan had done. "You shouldn't have done that," he said. "My mom is going to tell everyone that I'm dating you now. Why did you do that?"

"If you'd gone in alone, she would have kept you there. A boss would never tag along while his employee apologized to his mother. It was the only plausible reason for my presence."

Shannon nodded, closing his eyes, wanting suddenly just to go to bed. He wished he were more like one of the others, who would have made certain this played exactly the way they wanted. He just…sat.

"Shannon."

He opened his eyes, turning his head back toward Dylan. That tone was a new one. "Something wrong?"

Dylan shook his head, but there was an odd look on his face - then it faded away in an easy smile. "Would you like to go to dinner?"

Shannon went still, slowly sitting up straight, frowning at Dylan. "You've never bothered to ask so formally before. We've eaten dinner plenty of times."

The smile turned into a grin, and Dylan was suddenly a bit closer than he had been before. "I wasn't asking you out on a date before."

"Oh," Shannon said weakly, barely getting the word out. "Why all of a sudden?" No way no way no way.

"I'm slower on some things than others, I guess," Dylan said dryly, shaking his head at himself. "You should have just knocked me upside the head."

Shannon shrugged. "Not my style. Which stupid moment of mine tipped it?"

"Lots of little things, really," Dylan said. "I've been catching on bit by bit, but the train station tonight sealed it."

"Ugh," Shannon said, but the way Dylan smiled at him eased his embarrassment. He smiled back, and started to believe this was really happening.

The car slowed to a stop and Dylan preceded him out, briefly touching the small of his back before leading him into the restaurant.

Part III: Ling

"Somebody get that cat out of here! Whose is it?"

"Probably belongs to a guest." Crossing the lobby, the hotel clerk bent to scoop up the cat standing just outside the police tape, peering at the bloodstains not yet removed from the dining room on the other side.

The cat dodged, turning and sprinting out the front doors and vanishing into the parking lot, slowing down as he reached a sleek black sports car. The passenger door opened and the cat leapt neatly inside. It purred as long fingers reached out to pet and stroke, sliding through his fur with familiar ease.

"So what did you learn, pretty little kitty mine?"

Ling batted playfully at his hand, then shifted back, stretching out with a long groan. Fingers slid across the bit of his stomach bared as the stretching pulled up his t-shirt. "Stop that," he said absently.

"No," Astor said with a grin, but he left off and slid his sunglasses on, then started his car and drove from the parking lot.

"They were definitely sorcerers," Ling said. "Benevolent. There wasn't a scrap of malice or dark magic in their room. Not so much as a hint of a dirty thought, let alone a dark one." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a leather thong. On it was a small jade pendant marked with magic symbols only they could see.

Astor hissed in dismay. "They were acolytes…and so close to finding the Sage they sought. Damn it."

Ling nodded in agreement. "Found it behind the nightstand. I think I was supposed to find it. Someone is toying with us."

"So it would seem. We should see if Shannon can get anything off the pendant."

"Yeah," Ling said, pulling his phone out. It rang once. "Shannon, got something for you from those murders. Hoping you can get something off it." He nodded as Shannon explained what to do. "Yes."

Disconnecting, he immediately took a picture of the pendant and sent it to Shannon. A minute later he accepted a text, shaking his head as Shannon's spells went to work. "He makes it look so simple."

Astor grinned. "I'm definitely glad Dragon is one of us."

Ling's phone rang before he could reply, though he agreed completely. "Get anything?" He made a face, nodding. "All right. Thank you, Shannon." He snapped his phone shut. "Nothing terribly useful, unfortunately. Whichever one of them wore the pendant, he's had it all his life. Protective spells, which we could already sense, but not enough to stop whoever killed them. It also didn't pick up any trace of whoever did this."

"Definitely left as a taunt then," Astor said grimly. "The bastard left just enough to clue us in, but not enough to tell us anything important. Doesn't bode well, given the Alchemist and the Monk have both made their opening moves."

"Yes," Ling said quietly. "Given the nature of the murders, and the way in which we are being played with…this is the Huntsman."

Fingers slid across his cheek, and Ling turned in to the gentle touch. "Look on the bright side," Astor said. "He attacked outside the city, which means he can't get into it."

"Yet," Ling said grimly, missing Astor's touch as he pulled away to shift gears. "I hope it stays that way."

"The only weak spot is the train station," Astor said, "and Dylan says they've nearly got that fixed, and will move more quickly now that these murders have appeared. The Sage is still safe, and that's the only thing that matters."

Ling nodded. "I know. Let's go get some food."

Astor nodded. "What do you want to eat?" He leered.

"Pervert," Ling replied, smiling. "Italian. My mother hates when I eat Italian, and I'm still mad at her for making me work all last night because she couldn't take it out on big brother."

"Poor Chang," Astor said with a laugh.

Ling rolled his eyes. "Given the way he's always harassing me about you, when he's now acting the exact same way over the Sage, I hope mother flays him alive."

Astor grinned. "So we're doing Italian. Did you want any Italian or good Italian?"

Leaning across the space between them, Ling curled one hand over Astor's thigh, biting lightly at Astor's arm. "Give me good Italian and I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh, really?" Astor asked, and turned as they stopped at a light, taking his mouth in a hard kiss that tasted as only Astor could - of fire and smoke, heat and sunlight. From the moment he'd first met his big brother's friend he'd been enthralled, enamored. The day he'd realized his feelings weren't one-sided had been the happiest of his life.

The light changed but they didn't move; the street was utterly deserted, no one to honk or shout - then his phone rang. Swearing, Ling broke the kiss and looked at his phone, then mashed the accept button. "What?" he snapped. His eyes widened as he listened to the reply, and he fumbled for the talisman as he rolled down the window-

Glass exploded as the windshield shattered, and he heard Astor scream in pain. As much as he wanted, Ling didn't turn to look. Instead he shoved hard, getting the car door open and throwing himself out onto the street, snarling in rage as he stood.

He immediately threw himself back down.

The scent of blood filled the air and Ling tamped down on his rage only with an effort.

A cold chuckle washed over him, and he looked cautiously over the hood at the man walking toward them - closest to Astor, who was still vulnerable on the other side of the car.

The man walking toward them was about thirty or so in appearance, clean shaven and with a cowboy hat shadowing most of his face. Only a sharply chiseled jaw and a smirking mouth were clearly visible. He held a nasty-looking crossbow, and the closer he got the more Ling could feel the enchantments laid into it.

He growled low as Astor hissed in pain. The Huntsman must have gotten him with a near-perfect shot, if Astor was in such great agony. Ling gave up any thought of fighting fair, and with a snarl of rage he threw himself up and over the car as he shifted.

Growling, he padded to stand protectively in front of Astor. In his holy form he was nearly the size of the car, brilliant white fur broken by midnight stripes, all but crackling with power and rage. He growled again and tensed to spring as the Huntsman continued to approach.

"Mmm, yes, that's the prey I want," the Huntsman said, the deep southern drawl at odds with the cold tone, the hard gleam in his green eyes before they were once again shadowed by the brim of his dark hat. "Here, kitty, kitty."

Ling lunged - to the side, rather than forward as the Huntsman had clearly expected, then sprang toward him, snarling in fury when the Huntsman managed to twist out of the way. An arrow, soaked in magic for accuracy and pain, just barely missed him and Ling attacked with renewed fervor.

Back and forth they struggled, neither gaining or losing ground, brutally drawing even. When a sharp, piercing cry broke through his growls, his fur was matted with blood and the Huntsman bore a nasty wound down his chest.

Flames bathed him, hotter than it seemed he could bear - but rather than inflicting pain, the fire took all the pain away. For a moment he could feel nothing at all, and the world returned only slowly, one little piece at a time.

When he could see again, the world seemed unaccountably dull. He blinked and shook his head, trying to get the world back to rights. Slowly he lifted his head and took in Astor, bright and beautiful and shining. Little wonder everything else seemed dull, when it had to compete with the breathtaking plumage of the Phoenix.

Astor cried out again, flexing his wings, embers flying out, a single delicate feather of flame fluttering to the ground.

Padding to the tree in which Astor was perched, Ling sat on his haunches and growled up at his pretty bird. Of the Huntsman there was no sign - likely he had retreated when he realized he was not up against one as he had thought.

In the next moment, though, Ling cried out in fear as his bird abruptly toppled from the tree, shifting as he hit the ground. Ling shifted back himself and bundled Astor close, not liking the pallor to his face or the way he trembled - and his arm was still bleeding, a crossbow bolt lodged in it. Clearly Astor had used all his power to drive the Huntsman back and help Ling protect against him, but he had failed somehow to heal himself.

Likely he'd not had the strength for everything.

Swearing, Ling pulled out his phone and mashed a special button put there by Shannon, then held tightly to Astor and waited.

He growled low, thinking of the man who had done this. If the fighting had continued…it likely would not have ended well. Waiting was over; the enemy was obviously ready to start playing. The attack had been a nasty surprise; they should have been more prepared.

They'd be more prepared next time, and the Huntsman would not be so fortunate as to get away. No, his destined foe had earned himself only a brutal death by harming Astor.

"Mother is beginning to worry about you."

Ling rolled his eyes. "Mother is worried about getting all the dishes done without having to pay someone," he retorted. "I'm not leaving."

His big brother rolled his eyes. "You cannot keep doing this, little brother. Astor will wake up soon; he's simply exhausted. I healed him well enough, he just needs rest." Ling didn't look up as Chang sat down. "I'm glad you're both all right."

"Thank you, big brother. Is the Sage safe?"

"As safe as he can be," Chang replied. "You should get something to eat - and call mother. I can only keep lying about your whereabouts for so long."

"I don't care," Ling said.

Chang sighed, his way of conveying understanding and agreement. "At least eat, idiot," he said gruffly. "Knowing Astor, you'll need the energy when he wakes up." He glared at the sleeping figure on the bed. "The moron."

Ling snickered. For all that his big brother fussed and snarled, if not for his gentle assistance and guidance, Ling would not currently be with Astor. "How go the fortifications?" he asked, reluctantly switching to business.

"Complete," Chang replied. "Shannon and Dylan finally figured out the problem with the train station. A bad combination of energies; there was a skeleton at the apex of where their spells always fell apart, buried pretty deep. A worker from the original construction, they surmised. There were old, old spells cast on the corpse, which means…"

"Someone knew long before the rest of us that this would become the home of the Sage," Ling said quietly.

His brother nodded.

The ability to foresee the future was the realm of only one; he who had chosen to give over his soul for power no mortal should have. Destined foe of the Qilin, the Seer.

"At least he could do no more than this," Chang said at last. "If he had managed to fully corrupt our city…but perhaps there is something else he has foreseen. I shudder to think."

Ling shook his head. "He who foretells the future is like a man who is too fond of staring at his reflection."

Chang grunted.

They sat in companionable silence. Never had they really needed to say much between them; for as long as he could remember it had been the two of them despite the six years that separated them. Perhaps because he had so long ago discovered his big brother's secrets, which had woken his own. Astor, Shannon, Dylan - all hid from their families and the few friends they might have. He and big brother also hid, but at least they'd had each other before realizing Astor was part of it.

"I'm going back to Gage," Chang said at last. "Let us know when the idiot wakes up, and smack him for me. One of these days…" He shook his head and stood up, departing without further comment.

Ling smiled fondly at the closed door, then moved to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, he lightly stroked Astor's hair and face, bare throat and chest. "Stupid featherhead," he said softly. As big brother had said, Astor was fine. Healing his wounds had been a simple matter for the Qilin.

Gage had stood quietly by, pale-faced but an underlying strength and newly woken determination born of his steadily growing knowledge of the world he had so recently joined. Coached and encouraged - and loved - by his Qilin, Gage was already shaping up to be the Sage that was his destiny.

The very last thing the enemy wanted, and if they had launched this latest attack…

His gentle caresses halted as Astor shifted, eyes fluttering slowly open - they blazed, inhumanly bright, though Astor must at the very least be exhausted, if not still in some pain. The bolt had done far more than merely wound his arm; curses for prolonged agony, poison…the Huntsman was nasty. Though it was a poisoning thought, bad for his energies and life, Ling could not wait to kill him.

"Astor," he said, smiling in no small relief. "You're awake. I was worried about you, pretty bird."

Astor returned the smile and reached up to lightly stroke his cheek. "You worry too much, pretty kitty. I couldn't let him turn you into sweet & sour chicken or fiddle strings."

Ling rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss him. Astor's lips against his own, hot and familiar, eased the last of his worry. "Heal yourself next time, idiot." He sat back up and then smacked Astor hard on the chest, enough to leave his hand print in livid red against the tanned skin.

"Ow!" Astor exclaimed, rubbing the spot and glaring at him. "You don't have to do what Chang says, you know."

"He's my big brother, of course I do."

Astor rolled his eyes.

Ling gently pet the red spot, fingers lingering. "Hungry? Thirsty?"

"Yes," Astor replied - then grabbed him and twisted.

When the world held still again, it was Ling's turn to glare at Astor. "Idiot," he said, reprimanding the man now straddling him, bright hair mussed and everywhere, eyes blazing, and his skin was nearly too hot to touch. "Bird."

"Cat," Astor replied, the simple word a caress. He leaned down and took Ling's mouth, kissing him hard and deep - hot, so hot, always the Phoenix burned. For years, Ling knew, his parents and doctors had struggled to figure out why his body temperature was so frighteningly high…but otherwise Astor was always in eerily perfect health, and eventually they'd left him in peace.

By the time they moved to the city and he'd met Chang, his parents had accepted their son was literally hot and let it be. Ling, from the first, had felt hot around Astor for entirely different reasons.

Such as the ones that now made him groan and wish he were not wearing so many clothes. He feared and dreaded the day his parents discovered the things he did with Astor, the things he felt for Astor - but he would rather lose everything else and keep only this than give it up for a second. He protected the Sage because it was his destiny, but also because that same destiny had brought him Astor.

With another moan he dragged Astor closer still, shivering at the fire of him, digging his blunt nails into bare shoulders, hips thrusting as best they could.

"Always so eager," Astor said with a chuckle as he broke the kiss to taste elsewhere, fingers slipping with familiar ease beneath Ling's shirt, tugging it up, and Ling lifted up just enough to get it off entirely, then wrapped his arms around Astor and dragged him back down, groaning at the contact, better but not enough.

Ling laughed roughly as Astor fondled him through his jeans. "Anyone not eager wouldn't be able to keep up with you."

Astor smirked. "Even that first night, I think I was working just to keep up with you."

"I was eighteen," Lind said hotly, "and had been crushing for a ridiculously long time. Now shut up and fuck me or you're going back to bed with one of my mother's healing tonics."

Eyes widening in comical horror, Astor nodded fervently. "Fucking it is; I think I'd rather turn celibate than ever drink another one of those ancient Chinese home remedies."

"Population in the billions for a reason," Ling muttered, tugging him back down for a kiss.

Astor snickered. "Yeah, eager Chinamen who have no interest in celibacy."

"Shut up," Ling said, exasperated, doing some groping of his own, making Astor buck and finally shut up.

Mm, yes, there were his hot kisses. Ling left off groping to cling, writhing and pushing, thoroughly annoyed they hadn't bothered yet to remove pants.

But in the next moment Astor tore away to take care of that very problem, then Ling was covered by nothing but his phoenix, hot and eager and talented, hands knowing where to touch to provoke or soothe, how to elicit all manner of unseemly noises.

Ling let him, a cat perfectly content to be petted by a phoenix who loved to consume. Heat slid against hit, lust leaving wet trails on his stomach, his muscles tight and trembling for the release Astor would not yet give him.

"Bird," he gasped out, choking on a more unseemly shout as Astor reached down to stroke and fondle, hand firm around his cock before teasing at his balls, slipping behind them to press at his entrance.

He snarled in aggravation when Astor abruptly withdrew, glaring at the chuckle his protest elicited. Before he could begin hurling threats, however, Astor was back. His fingers were cool and slick as they once more breached him and Ling's head fell back on a long moan.

A hot mouth bit his throat, tongue lapping away the sting as one finger became two inside him. Ling rode them unabashedly, needing Astor more than he needed air.

"Pretty kitty cat," Astor murmured before taking his mouth in a thorough kiss. Then the fingers were gone and Astor was pressing inside. Ling gasped at the stretch, the burn, but only spread his legs wider, wrapped them around Astor to pull his lover closer, deeper.

Astor wasted no time, moving quickly into a driving pace, pulling out to shove back in, each thrust pulling a cry from Ling. Hot, he could feel sweat everywhere, making skin too slick to grip, the sheets damp beneath him, and Ling wondered that nothing had caught fire or simply melted away.

He took a kiss as he tightened, shuddered, forcing his shouts into Astor's mouth as he came, swallowing Astor's cries in his turn as wet heat filled him.

Their pants were loud in the room that now seemed suddenly too quiet. Sweat cooled on their bodies, and while it should have been unpleasant Ling was long used to it - where there was Astor, there was heat and sweat. "I'm pretty sure," he said after a few more minutes had passed, "that after serious injury you're not supposed to go straight into strenuous activity."

Astor laughed softly and moved, rolling onto his back and tugging Ling to lie on top of him, lazily petting his back, fingers lightly moving over his ass. "Sex fixes everything, and as much as that dumb Huntsman might want you - you're mine."

Ling snorted. "He wants my head for his wall. You just want me to give you head. Totally different things."

"Mmm, good idea," Astor said, taking slow, lazy kisses, as though enjoying a favorite treat. "Before or after our shower?"

"You're hopeless," Ling retorted. "We do need to get showered, then we've got work to do."

Astor nodded. "Maybe during then."

Ling rolled his eyes and reluctantly disentangled himself from Astor. "Come on, bird brain."

"Yes, kitty," Astor replied, and obediently stood up.

And likely they would play a bit more, because who knew when next they would be able, or if any of them would live when this was all over? The Huntsman had made the first strike…and he had been playing with them, really.

Ling scowled as he grabbed towels and headed for the door. If the Huntsman wanted to play, then Ling would play - like a cat with a mouse.

Part IV: Dylan

"So far we have been introduced to the Alchemist, the Monk, and the Huntsman," Dylan said with a sigh. That meant the Tyrant was likely to be making his appearance soon, and Dylan wasn't looking forward to it.

Equals in powers and strength, parallels and opposites, the four destined foes of the sacred Guardians.

Phoenix against Alchemist.

Dragon against Monk.

Tiger against Huntsman.

Turtle against Tyrant.

Assuming they defeated those four, there still remained the last two great enemies - the Prophet himself, dark equal to the Sage, assisted by the soulless Seer. He felt tired just thinking about it sometimes. All his life, it seemed, he had worked and worked for this moment that was finally coming - and even when their greatest enemies failed, because he had worked too hard to allow anything but a victory for the Sage - and after it was over, still the work would not be done.

The Sage would change the world someday, if he was given a chance.

He was slow and steady, and could continue on forever, but still Dylan felt weighed down by it all occasionally. The others were significantly younger than he; when they were still children ignorant of their fates, he had been laying the foundations here. So long he had worked alone…

The depressing thought made him look up, and Dylan could not help smiling faintly at the man who had so recently dispelled the last lingering traces of his loneliness.

He had power, wealth, friends, companions, employees - all of it. Though the Sage was his liege lord, the ruler of them all, Dylan was well aware he himself owned at least half the city and the rest he let be because he did not yet have any real need to own it.

Still, there was little point in being a King when there was no one with whom to enjoy the spoils. Meeting his fellow Guardians had done much to soothe his feelings of isolation…but loneliness had persisted.

It wasn't until he realized that someone had been watching him all along that he realized he hadn't been alone for a very long time - just blind.

The soft clicking of keys was the only sound in his study; the weather had been foul enough today that he and Shannon had chosen to stay at home and work. They all might make fun of his house for being something out of a Poe story, but it was a fine house.

Even finer with its latest permanent addition. Shannon worked steadily, the clicking of his keys the only thing keeping Dylan working. Certainly Shannon himself was not helping him focus, and Dylan marveled again that he'd been oblivious for so long.

Seriously. He prided himself on his intelligence; it made him what he was - yet he'd completely missed Shannon. Perhaps it was the age gap, though that hardly mattered when it came to being Guardians.

At least he'd finally noticed. Since they'd decided to stay home, Shannon had gotten dressed only in the barest definition of the term - faded gray lounge pants and a black tank top that clung far too well to his skinny frame and only emphasized the true blue-black of his hair

It was the fierce concentration on his face, the skill with which he manipulated magic, the flashing of his too blue to be real eyes, that Dylan loved best. Nothing was finer than the Dragon lost to his magic.

Except, perhaps, Shannon in passion - and wasn't that a sight it had never occurred to Dylan to see, but which now he could not live without.

Thunder rumbled as though from a distance, unable to break entirely through the impressive work of Dylan's house. Not entirely soundproof, but nearly. Dylan turned back to his work, an endless tide of paperwork intermixed with Guardian work. He did not have Shannon's impressive laptop - he much preferred a more hands-on approach, and could constantly sense and feel his hundreds of spells scattered about the city.

But, his efforts were in laying the magic directly into what he built, rebuilt, etc. Shannon wove layer upon layer over the city. A million spiderwebs delicately stitched together and overlapping each other. His spells were more like the foundations upon which everything else relied, helping to form a hard shell around the city.

Dylan finished off an email to his secretary, then six more, and drafted three letters, mailing those off to his secretary and responding to her reply to the previous email. Checking his schedule, he rearranged six meetings and approved adding in three more.

Then he shut his computer off and stood up, stretching with a long groan, feeling his neck and back pop. "That's enough work for the day, I say."

Shannon's furious typing abruptly stopped, and those so-blue eyes blinked at him before a smile - still so hesitant, sweet and endearing - curved his lips. "Oh? I thought the great Mr. Waterhouse never stopped working."

Dylan rolled his eyes and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the deep leather sofa on which Shannon was stretched out. "The great Mr. Waterhouse has better things to do than check his email all day."

The laptop shut with a click, and Dylan took it from him to set on a nearby side table. Slender fingers buried themselves in his hair, petting him lightly before Shannon dragged him down for a kiss.

He wondered how he'd gone so long without this. Shannon tasted like a spring rain shower, sharp and bright and fresh. He was warm and pliant, clinging as though trying to wrap his long coils about Dylan.

It was a heady feeling. Dylan bundled him close, twisting and turning so that he lay on the couch with Shannon on top of him. He put his mouth to the skin of Shannon's throat, sucking up a mark, laughing softly at the way that made Shannon gasp and twist and moan.

Such a fine sound deserved a kiss, and Dylan gave it, taking Shannon's mouth and ravaging it thoroughly as he stroked and petted, lingering shamelessly on the curve of Shannon's ass. Truly he wondered what had taken him so long - from the moment Shannon had shivered in his arms in the train station, he had not been able to figure out how he'd gone so long without feeling that.

The sharp, piercing ring of a cell phone jarred him, and he bit down a tad too hard on Shannon's lip, making him grunt.

With a soft curse Shannon tore away, sitting up to straddle Dylan, twisting around in a way that could only be described as torturous, to snatch up his phone from the side table "Yes?" he asked, and though he tried for aplomb, it was rather obvious what he'd been interrupted in doing - and from the hot flush to his cheeks, Shannon knew it.

Dylan tucked one arm behind his head, reclining lazily, using his other hand to continue torturing Shannon as he talked - but then Shannon went abruptly white, and grabbed his hand, and nothing was funny anymore.

"I'm on my way," Shannon said, voice hoarse, and he began to shake something fierce. He didn't even hang up the phone, simply let it fall to the ground.

Dylan yanked him down, holding tight, offering whatever feeble comfort he could. "What's wrong?"

Tears soaked his shirt. "My mother's dead," Shannon said. "They just found her in her office." He sat up. "I have to go."

"I'll take you," Dylan said, reaching up to brush away the tears with his thumbs, cupping Shannon's face. He dragged him down and kissed Shannon softly, then let him go. "Go get dressed."

Nodding, obviously a million miles away, Shannon half walked, half stumbled from the room.

Dylan stood and moved to his desk, snatching up his own phone, hitting speed dial. "Chang, Shannon's mother is dead. We just got the call. I doubt this is coincidence. Keep Gage close. Find Astor and Ling, put them on the prowl."

Receiving an affirmative from Change, Dylan shut his phone and packed up Shannon's laptop, then went to get his shoes and jacket, grabbing Shannon's as well.

Shannon looked frozen from the inside out as he came down the stairs. With stiff moments he accepted his laptop bag, sliding on the jacket and shoes.

"Come on," Dylan said, taking his hand, leading him to the garage.

The trip to the city passed in silence.

He parked in the first spot he could find on the ever crowded campus, then helped Shannon out of the car.

Shannon didn't react, not even to the rain that started to fall - and Shannon adored thunderstorms.

Dylan took his hands, holding them tight, then let one go to tilt Shannon's head up. "Shannon, I know this is hard, but you've got to focus. It was probably the Monk that did this, and you can't face him like this. Keep it up and he's already won. Don't let him best you, Dragon."

Something flashed in Shannon's eyes, the power and magic unique to the Dragon. "I won't," he said softly. He squeezed Dylan's hand, then turned and strode through the campus, headed straight for the building where his mother spent so much time.

The crowds of people were ridiculous. Dylan's lip curled in disgust that people would so eagerly assemble to gawk at tragedy.

Shannon snarled as people got in his way - but those who shouted abruptly fell silent as they realized who he was, for no one would fail to recognize the son of the famous woman who lay dead within.

As suddenly as he'd started forward, Shannon turned around and fled.

Dylan chased after him, catching his arm as they ducked out of sight behind a smaller building. "Shannon, what-"

"We can't go in there with everyone staring at us. We'll n-" He stopped, swallowed, blinked back tears. "We'll never get anything done. We're both too well known. Everyone needs to go the hell away - especially as the cops are probably wrecking whatever magical evidence may linger."

"Then let me take care of it," Dylan said. "You save your energy for more important things."

Shannon nodded, though his fingers only slowly slid away from the fastening of his laptop bag.

Stroking his cheek lightly, aching to just take Shannon home and let him grieve in peace, Dylan then knelt on the ground and dug his fingers into the earth. He was significantly older than the others for one very important reason - he was precise, thorough, conscientious, but slow. He worked best when he had plenty of time to work. All his spells had been built one layer at a time, over the course of several years, but it made them strong and reliable in a way most other magic simply could not be. Even Shannon's spells required a high level of maintenance, constant checking and tweaking, and there was strength in the flexibility that offered…

But his spells had their strengths as well. Always ready and waiting for him, answering the call and doing his bidding without a moment of hesitation. Reaching out, to dormant spells deep beneath the city, he woke them and bid it do his will.

He'd never needed them before, but he'd always known he would.

The spell moved up through the earth, emotions bound in ancient runes, set where no eyes would ever see them - but released, all would feel it. He listened with half an ear as people abruptly left, unknowingly compelled to do other things. The cops resisted, their training and instinct fighting against Dylan's powerful compulsion.

Half an hour later, he finally stood up again, brushing dirt from his hands. "There," he said quietly. "We should have a good hour or so before anyone comes back this way."

Shannon smiled. It was a pale imitation of the bright ones he usually gave Dylan, but it was better than the awful blankness which had dominated his face since the phone call. "Thank you."

"Of course," Dylan said, and took his hand as they made their way back to the science building.

To most of the world, her death would always remain a mystery. Unknown causes was what would eventually be written on her death certificate. Had he not known better, Dylan would have thought she simply stopped between one breath and the next.

She still sat at her desk; they'd not had time to move the body. It almost looked as though she was still alive, bent over the paperwork in front of her, working diligently away. Shannon was her spitting image, except he'd always possessed a gentleness his mother had always lacked. Dylan had encountered her more than once in various social circles, it long being to his benefit to mesh well with the local academia - but while he'd never hated the woman, he'd never liked her either.

Still, not even a contemptible person deserved to be slain by a curse. From the magical residue, the way she quite literally died between one breath and the next - the curse had been both slow and sudden.

Slow to build, slow to permeate her body, but once it filled her the reaction had been instantaneous.

He wondered if the Monk had planted the curse that night they'd met - and how stupid of him and Shannon both not to think of that. Then again, what was the point in killing Shannon's mother? She had nothing to do with this.

Unless the sole purpose had been to shake the Dragon.

Dylan finally glanced away from the gruesome sight of the dead woman to look at his lover, hating that only an hour ago they'd been lost to pleasure, and now Shannon looked as though he were holding on to himself by the barest thread.

Still, the Dragon was too powerful a creature to be so easily felled. Despite the trembling of his hands, Shannon pulled out his laptop and flipped it open. Sitting down on the small sofa at the opposite end of the office, he began to type at a dizzying pace.

Though usually content to sit and watch and wait, their time was limited, and Dylan didn't feel like wasting it. Leaving Shannon to his laptop, he went to work in his own way. Casting spells would take too much time, but he didn't need spells to feel out magic, and he was very, very good at feeling out small bits of magic.

Holding out his hand, splaying his fingers, Dylan focused on searching out magical residue, closing his eyes, rejecting all his senses, pouring his focus into simply feeling.

A minute later his eyes snapped open, a soft curse filling the room as he snatched up an envelope and yanked out the sheets of paper inside. Relief and dismay poured through him as he realized what had actually happened.

Relief that it wasn't actually the Monk responsible - that would be a great deal of weight off Shannon's shoulders.

Dismay because the Tyrant had made his debut, and he'd done by attacking Dylan's weakness. Given the scheme must have taken months to plan, prepare, and execute, and he'd only been with Shannon less than two weeks…

That meant the Seer was involved, which meant the plan could be even more intricate than it seemed already.

Dylan took the letter to Shannon, who nodded and began to analyze it.

"He bought property from your mother," Dylan said "That means he has a legitimate reason to be in this city, and our wards are useless. I thought I'd blocked all those avenues, but it would seem I missed one."

The ghost of a smile flicked across Shannon's face. "But you probably accounted for the fact that you might miss something."

"Yes," Dylan said. "Is there a trap laid somewhere?"

"Not according to my analyses," Shannon said. "He knew she'd eventually sign it over; he's been laying the curse piece by piece ever since they started communicating. The Monk must have come to meet me and double check the curse was setting right. They did it so we wouldn't sense it, bastards." A tear slipped down his cheek, and he angrily brushed it away. "They won't use the same trick twice, though, now that I'm aware of the curse I can calibrate my spells to look for things like it."

Dylan stroked one cheek, part of him wondering yet again why it had taken him so long to really see Shannon…the other part wishing he was still oblivious, because it was his caring for Shannon which had resulted in his mother's death.

"It's okay," Shannon whispered.

"It's not," Dylan said quietly.

Shannon turned his head and kissed his palm. "We knew shit like this would happen. Let's just stop the bastard."

"Oh, I will," Dylan said. "The Tyrant's problem is his arrogance and love of power. He went to these extremes to gain access to the city simply because he could. To intimidate. Such complicated magic over a prolonged period of time probably wore him out." Dylan smirked. "I know this part of the city, and calling in a handful of favors will see to it that by the end of the week, I not only own it, but will have it razed and construction of something new begun."

Shannon laughed softly. "Not a scrap of magic involved, huh?"

"Precisely," Dylan replied. "The magic I'll save for more important things." Like killing the Tyrant slowly and painfully. The Seer had to have known the Tyrant's plan might not work; the question was had he told the Tyrant that?

Probably not.

Still, it meant there was probably a second plan in place to breach their defenses. "How are Astor and Ling?" he asked.

"Patrolling the city," Shannon said. "Chang is with the Sage at his parents' house - probably being stuffed with the finest Chinese cuisine in the state."

Dylan nodded. "Let's set all this to rights, then, and go meet up with them. If they're killing people now, the stakes just got higher."

Shannon nodded. "I've fixed everything so that when the compulsion breaks, no memory of leaving will exist. All should be fine here. Now I just need to find my f-f-father."

"Let's go," Dylan said, and took Shannon's arm, leading him from the building, taking the back exit. Once outside, he knelt and buried his hand in the ground, closing his eyes and bidding the spells he'd woken to return to sleep. Enough power remained he could use them a few times more. He'd laid his spells well, and knew it, but confirmation was always nice.

Standing, he waited while Shannon set and cast his own spells.

Several minutes later they pushed their way through the crowds of people, motioning to Shannon's father, who stood pale-faced and on the verge of tears as he watched them carry his wife's body away.

Dylan stood back as father and son comforted one another, keeping careful watch of the crowd, smiling faintly when two familiar energies struck his senses. Touching Shannon's shoulder lightly to let him know he was stepping away, he left the building and moved to a copse of trees behind it.

He smiled at the small white cat and cardinal waiting for him in a tree.

A moment later Ling and Astor stood before him.

"You don't look pleased," Dylan said.

"What's to be pleased about?" Astor said sourly. "That fucking Huntsman is here somewhere, though I've no idea how he got into the city without anyone noticing."

Dylan frowned in thought. "Probably while we were here. Shannon and I have been focusing on the death, which was engineered by the Tyrant. Focused on that, we did not notice a small breach somewhere else on the premises. It is always best to assume that nothing is as simple as it seems, which is why I sent the two of you to prowling. Is the Sage safe?"

"Safe as he can be," Ling said. "Big brother would never let anything happen to him, and neither will we."

"Then go find him," Dylan said. "Shannon and I will do our part. Whatever you do, avoid returning to Chang and the Sage. They will not find him so long as we do not show the way."

"Of course," Astor said."Let us know the moment you discover anything new. We're only looking for one man right now, but if one got into the city…"

Dylan nodded. "Go. I'll keep you informed."

He waited until they were gone, then strode back to the science building to fetch Shannon.

When he got there, however, Shannon was waiting for him. Dylan tugged him close, holding tight. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Shannon whispered.

"Are you going to be all right?" Dylan asked.

"I don't have a choice," Shannon replied. "There will be time later."

Dylan nodded, and bent to kiss him, wishing he could do more - but as Shannon said, there was no time. "Let's go," he said, and rapidly explained what Astor and Ling had told him.

Shannon immediately whipped out his laptop. "First the breach in the barriers, then we wake the aggressive defenses." He worked in a silence that was broken only by the furious clicking of his keys. Several minutes later he closed the laptop. "That's the breach fixed. Now for the next part."

"Yes," Dylan said. The aggressive defenses would have to be woken by hand, too dangerous for them to permit anything but their own touch to activate them.

Giving Shannon one last kiss, holding him tight for a moment, Dylan led the way off campus and into the neon lights of the city.