In Sex Magic

This is a work of fiction. All Characters are 18 or older.

This contains non-consensual sex.

***

Ink, Sex, Magic: A Tale in Five Parts.

Part IV. Unbinding Spells

The sound of my father's retreat faded in the distance. Sylas closed and locked his front door, lifted me off the floor with his agile grace and set me gingerly on the sofa. "That's one way to shut him up," he murmured, settling me into the cushions and covering me with a blanket. I could only manage a feeble laugh in response.

I was covered in an icy sweat, shivering despite feeling like I'd just been struck by lightning: Or, more accurately, like I was a bolt that had the misfortune of finding a lightning rod. He made me another cup of tea and handed me a damp washcloth that soothed my fevered skin. After repairing the windows I'd broken with his effortless magic, Sylas joined me on the sofa.

"You have to build your stamina, or it's going to zap you every time," he said critically, though not unkindly. "And control your powers, so you don't accidentally zap someone yourself. Although I like what it did to your hair." He gently brushed a hand across my nebulous cloud of curls.

"It's not funny," I pouted, which only made him chuckle in his good-natured way.

"Oh, I know. It's very serious."

"Then stop smiling."

"You first."

After a short staring contest, during which we both tried to look stern, we broke out laughing.

"I suppose you want to be the one to teach me, then?"

"If you want me to. I do have a unique perspective on things, being a little over seven hundred years old."

"Really?" I knew Kitsune could live for a millennia before they ascended, but it was difficult to imagine Sylas having lived for so long.

"Really."

"You barely look older than three hundred."

"We'd need a few ingredients first- would you want to come with me?"

"I take it we're not going to the grocery store."

"We'll stop by on the way back. I'm out of livers."

***

Sylas fed me another large meal before we left- which I downed in a thrice- but before he drove us out to what he called the Dark Market (which- surprise, surprise- turned out to be in Puget Sound), I looked down at my wrinkled outfit and asked if I could pick up some of my clothes.

"We can, but I have some of my youngest daughter's things that I think would fit you- if you want to take a look."

"You have a daughter? What's her name?"

"Her name was Delilah. She passed away four years ago."

"I'm so sorry. How old was she?"

"Eighty-three."

"Oh... Well, I hope she had a full life..."

"It's okay- I'm at peace about it. I've seen her in the Dream Plane."

I realized he meant that literally, not just in his sleeping dreams.

"Hold on- I have to dig them out of a closet."

Soon he'd produced a sealed plastic box with meticulously folded clothing: An ivory blouse, a Jefferson Airplane shirt, blue jeans, a patch-worked skirt, a maxi-dress in a floral print and a jean jacket covered in patches, all in retro colors and cuts. A few pairs of underwear were discreetly tucked in at the bottom.

"Delilah forgot to get these from the washer when she skipped out with her boyfriend one day. Going to California, she wrote on her dresser mirror. I hope she made it there."

"You never saw her again?"

"I tracked her down a couple of decades ago, actually. But by then it was too late. She didn't believe it was really me and called the police."

I had to repress a smirk.

At first, Sylas glared at me, but that only made me giggle.

"I'm so sorry, it's not funny."

Just when I thought he was about to get angry at me, Sylas let out a throaty laugh. "Don't be. It

is

funny. Actually- it's hilarious."

And we both laughed until my sides hurt. He left to let me get dressed, and I chose the peasant style blouse and long skirt, which both fit me well. I brought the jacket with me in case I got cold. Sylas regarded me with a faraway look, and then told me I looked lovely. I wondered if I reminded him of his daughter, but I dared not ask.

"Thank you." I reached up automatically to straighten his pale blue bow tie and crisp white collar for him. "There. And you're a dapper fox."

"Shall we then?"

The Market spread into alleys around the pier, into docked boats and ferries, out on floating jetties or further out asea, depending on the exclusivity of a seller's wares. He told me the main components we were after were a bezoar removed during the full moon, corpse-chin oil (which is as gruesome sourced as it sounds), the heart of a virgin, the bone of an animal I'd never heard of with a Japanese name I couldn't pronounce if I tried, and the ink of a kraken.

"Yum- what are we cooking up?"

"Spell ink, a potion and possibly stir-fry."

"Am I getting a tattoo?"

"We both are. Now, I'd advise you to look but don't touch, and not to go wandering off by yourself. If you want to know about something, just ask me- okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Not keeping everything a mystery."

"You're curious- I like that. And I don't withhold information to get the upper hand."

I got the feeling he was alluding to that being another one of my father's hallmark moves.

Sylas greeted several vendors and other customers by name, though he never ventured to make introductions, and I could see that while most of them were human, many of them were something else. There was a demon filled with bright blue light that Sylas called an afirit. We encountered another shapeshifter with an animal alter-ego, who was selling exotic spices, roots, herbs and flowers, that he later explained was a rakshasa- a sort of werewolf. A handsome incubus offered to take away my painful memories as we passed his booth of preserved body parts and jars of silvery-white ether.

"I can taste them already, my sweet, let me suck them out of your pretty body..."

Sylas wrapped an arm around me, shielding me from the creature's keen senses.

I heeded his advice the entire time and never wandered off, no matter how tempting a new discovery appeared from afar, and stayed close to my guide. But somehow, as I was looking around the stall where we'd stopped, and bent down to smell the intoxicating perfume coming from an open bottle, I found myself passing between a set of thin curtains and into a dead-end alleyway. When I went back through them, I was in a canopied tent.

"You've come seeking answers about your future," a quiet voice announced behind me.

I spun around, finding a woman seated at a table where the entrance had once been. There was a pack of Tarot cards in front of her, though she didn't appear to be the fortune-teller type. She wore a somber black dress with an Empire waistline, had lustrous chestnut hair pinned up in a bun and a face that grew lovelier the longer I beheld it. I would have guessed her to be no older than twenty-five, though her demeanor was so regally staid that she seemed far more mature.

"Excuse me, I must have gotten lost," I murmured, trying to find the exit again.

Her glittering emerald eyes cut me like glass. "No one finds Madame Clara without a reason. Please, have a seat." The Madame gestured to the high-backed chair across from her that I hadn't noticed.

"I'm sorry, but I have no money- and I must find my friend."

"Today, I'm feeling particularly charitable. You may have your reading for free. And worry not, he will find you."

As disconcerted as I was, I wasn't actually frightened. I sensed no danger there, aside from knowledge. "I suppose I could stay a moment," I conceded, and found myself at the table opposite her without being able to recall walking over, taking out the chair and sitting down.

Madame Clara instructed me to shuffle the cards five times. "Now, cut the deck."

Once the deck had been readied, I slid it back across the smooth tabletop. She made a spread of five cards, placing the first in the middle and the other four around it going clockwise. Madame Clara flipped each of them over in the same order she'd laid them out: Three of Swords; The Moon; Ten of Cups, inverted; The Magician; Five of Wands, inverted. After refocusing her gaze, she interpreted my fate.

"You stand between two loves. One of them will promise to hold you forever, the other to set you free. Both of them will betray you to protect you, but neither will succeed. Only you can make the choice that will save everything you love, even if you must part with it forever: You must place

yourself

on the altar, and at the darkest hour will you make your own light.

"I am sorry, Alice, but that is all I am able to see."

Madame Clara cast her eyes down, as though regretting both her limitations and her abilities, and then rose from her seat. When I stood as well, I saw how very small she was, and when I examined her face again, she appeared much younger than I'd initially estimated- closer to a girl than a woman.

"Thank you, Madame Clara. Can you tell me how to get back to-"

But then I heard my companion's voice calling my name, and when I turned to its direction, the wind blew open a part in the curtains. Turning back to thank her once more before departing, I saw that I was alone in an empty tent. When I dashed out through the flap, I almost ran into Sylas, who was holding a couple of small paper bags.

"You found me!" I exclaimed gratefully, giving him a quick hug.

"Were you lost?"

"I ended up in there and-" but when I turned to point at the tent, I saw that I was still in front of the same curious display of bottles, vials and jars that had the alluring perfume I'd found.

After examining the display a moment himself, Sylas reached over and re-stoppered the dark brown bottle labeled 'Arcana'. "I suppose I should have mentioned no smelling," he said with a wry grin.

"What happened?"

"You entered a place frozen in time, like a single moment or a memory that's everlasting."

"But it wasn't static. I spoke to someone- Madame Clara- and she read my fortune. She knew my name." At the time it seemed so natural that she called me Alice, that I forgot I'd never told her.

His brow furrowed. "And did what she say make sense to you?"

"Yes- well, no- well, not entirely at least. It was all very vague, so I suppose Madame Clara is just another charlatan." Although I began to think that she was referring to my parents, since I only had one romantic love in my life.

"She was one of the few Mortal seers I've ever met with any talent. Clara could part the veil to the Other Side during her lifetime; I'm sure her ability to go between worlds has only strengthened in her death."

"You knew her?"

"Briefly. She read my fortune once."

"And did it come true?"

"In its way. Madame Clara can only see as far as the present will lead you with the choices you already know you will make given the options you already have. It's like when you predict the tides, based on your relation to the sun and the moon- you'll usually be right, but there can always be a

tsunami

."

"If that was an attempt to comfort me, you failed miserably."

"I just mean that even when something seems inevitable, and we feel beholden to laws that take away our free will, there's always a way to break the system."

As we continued shopping, Sylas told me that centuries ago, he served the

Inari

- Japanese deities of the Moon, the sword and fertility. In human form, he helped forge swords in the Celestial Realm, and in his fox form, roamed the Earth to inspire creation, often walking through the Dream Plane all mortals visit in their sleep. Like many

yokai,

aside from his Masters and occasional mates, he had no ties to any one person or place. But when he fell in love with a human woman, he manifested himself in the Mortal Realm as a man.

After she died, he shifted into fox form but remained in her village, serving any family that would show him kindness. Eventually he longed for love again and became a man during the Shinto Period. He acquired an estate which he kept for several hundred years in different incarnations. When World War II broke out, he left Japan and took on the European guise he still wore now.

"The longer I am human, the weaker my connection to the Celestial Realm becomes. But my roots in the Mortal Realm have given me a strength the

Inari

and other

yokai

could never fathom. They will never know anything beyond their own lonely existences and meaningless perfection."

***

When we returned, we started making dinner in Sylas' galley kitchen, our shoulders brushing against each other whenever we found ourselves drawn together, which was frequently. He showed me his knife tricks while he chopped vegetables and I tried boiling the water for pasta with my powers. While his demonstrations were flawless- chopping zucchini into uniform medallions in midair, fanning out slices of mushrooms and flipping them into the skillet with tidy flicks of the blade, turning radishes into roses and carrot slices into Japanese characters with deft maneuvers of the tip- I ended up doused in lukewarm water.

After a shocked moment of silence, Sylas' eyes flitting from my face to my chest, we cracked up. My blouse was now plastered over my stiff, rosy nipples, clinging to my breasts which were barely contained by a lacy white bra. We both laughed a little harder for some reason, and Sylas came close enough for us to touch, even though I was covered in water. And then we were holding one another, kissing, still smiling and chuckling every so often as we explored each others mouths. Neither one of us pulled away until pan of mushrooms started smoking.

He took the pan off the burner and cupped my face, kissing me slowly and deliberately.

I moaned when he stop, eyelids fluttering open to see him looking extraordinarily sad. "What's wrong?"

"You are a truly remarkable young lady."

"But?"

"I don't have casual sex, and if that's what you want..."

"I don't either. There's nothing casual about sex to me. The only person I've ever been with consensually has been Kiernan."

"You poor woman, however did you survive?" he said, voice tinged with both humor and an deeper sadness.

"Celibacy or Kiernan?"

"Either."

I leaned up slowly and kissed him much in the same way, running my fingers through his soft pelt of red hair. "I want you in ways too intimate, too special, for me to treat indifferently. And if you want me, please be honest, because it won't change how I feel- are you attracted to me because I look like my mother?"

"It might be my preternatural vision, but you look very different to me. Your beauty is wilder, thornier but just as lush; and you're stronger than her even at your weakest. But I still do love her- I can't stop that."

I knew that Sylas was telling the truth, because with him there would be no more secrets, no more lies, no more wicked games and dirty tricks.

I put my hand over his heart. "Please don't. It's one of the things I love about you so much."

And we were kissing again, and I was taking off his apron because we were going to feed on each other first, and he peeled off my wet shirt because I had nothing left to hide.

Sylas' body was even more beautiful than I'd expected- his lean musculature, his golden skin with fine red hairs, every feature tapered elegance with a brand of masculinity I'd never encountered. And it was so arousing to see his urbane culture stripped away by need, using his teeth and tongue and nails and cock like an animal.

Trying to compare my two lovers wasn't like contrasting night and day, because they were both creatures of darkness. But while Kiernan was the inky sky, dazzling me with its brilliant jewels, Sylas was the moon, his luminescence a reflection of his form in the Celestial Realm, with a harsh but stunning terrain that I wanted to explore. The one similarity between Kiernan and Sylas that I couldn't deny was how much I liked them inside of me.

We rolled around in his bed, trading off who was on top, nipping and teasing to find out what made the other howl. And then I rode him so slowly, the shaft and bristles of his wild, red brush so agonizingly delightful that I cried, and he flipped me back over to give us both our release. Then we kissed ourselves into our second, shorter but still amazing fuck in which I ended up on all fours getting shattered by his feral rut.

I suggested we finish making dinner before we made love again.

"You have to let me catch my breath first. I'm getting too old for this."

"You just need to learn how to conserve your energy. I'll start dinner," I said, helping myself to one of his Tees and boxers. "Come join me when you find your cane."

"You'd better watch out when I do," he called after me as I swished away.

***

After eating, we cleaned the dishes, cleared the counters and table and set up shop. We prepped the ingredients for both the potion and the inks, and I started drafting the spell-work according to Sylas' instructions while he began brewing a batch of potion. I would confirm with him every now and then to make sure I was inscribing the sigillum in the right direction, or that I was juxtaposing two symbols correctly to combine their effects, but he'd devised the spell-work so elegantly that drawing it out seemed almost instinctual.

It was well after one when I let out my tenth shuddering yawn, and Sylas frowned, appearing a little tired himself. "You should go to bed, Alice. Let me finish this up."

"No, it will go faster if I help. And I want you to come to bed with me."

We worked considerably faster after that, and soon I was where I wanted to be- in bed, underneath my foxy man. And on top of, and in front of, and underneath again. I loved how sex with him flowed, how we were both in control and out of control, how it truly felt like we were mating, as equals.

But towards the end of our encore session, I wanted something different. I asked Sylas to hold me down.

"What did you say?" He'd been making love to me, nice and slow, and looked a bit dazed when he opened his eyes and glanced down.

"Hold me down and fuck me like an animal."

"If that's what you want..." After giving me a passionate kiss, Sylas was pounding into me, keeping my arms immobile with his unyielding strength, his teeth buried in my neck while he let out a long, low growl. I wept, it felt so good. And soon he was whispering, "Cum for me, bitch," and I did.

Once we'd washed off and were spooning, Sylas apologized for calling me a bitch. I told him that I given the circumstances, it was pretty damn hot. "I've never called a woman a bitch before, though," he said guiltily.

"You've been alive for centuries and you've never called a woman a bitch?"

"Only if she had four legs."

***

The next morning, we strained and bottled the cooled potion. I drank some of the deep violet liquid and found that it was not exactly tasty, but palatable. After packaging up the makings for our ink, we drove to UnderGround, where we'd have to finish preparing them and then, of course, use them. As expected, my father was waiting there when I walked in.

"Alice! You," he added sharply when he saw Sylas accompanying me. Kiernan started to lunge forward, but Haku and Devasha held him back. "What are you doing here?" His narrowed eyes flitted between the two of us.

"Same as you- trying to vanquish these bastards."

"Well, we don't need your help, so fuck off, Sylas." He turned to me and spoke in an imploring tone. "Alice, I need to talk to you in private."

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it right here."

Kiernan cleared his throat glancing at our witnesses meaningfully.

"I'm waiting."

"I told you that I didn't want you having anything to do with him outside of work."

"We are at work, so your argument is invalid," I snapped.