transgressions

Arm propped under his head, sprawled on top of the covers, Linc had watched the sun start its march across the ceiling. Like a sundial it marked out those hours until the outside world would open up to him again. Each day now it came earlier, the thin orange rays let in by the hair thin crack above the blackout blinds that kept him from frying to death, sliding from one corner of the room, just up to the light fixture in the centre of the ceiling now. Another inch or two – just to the crack in the paint that looked like an elephant, trunk held high – and it’d be time for him to nudge those blinds open a few inches.

Life marked by the lengthening dark before they were over the hill of winter and he’d be trapped again for two thirds of the day. One cage exchanged for another by Magnus’ attempt to save his life.

Linc sighed, dug his heels into the mattress and the sheets that were smoother, more expensive than any he’d ever slept on before. Luxury wasn’t easy to get used to, even if anybody vaguely blue blooded would’ve turned their nose up at it. The opposite of the princess and the pea, although that discomfort was the same, just came from a different angle.

Feeling that bite of hunger that he’d have to feed before he headed into the club gnaw with still blunt teeth in the pit of his stomach, Linc flounced onto his side. One bare forearm shoved beneath the pillow, brows furrowed tight enough to pucker everything above his neck.

Was it hunger that had kicked off the trouble at the club or just plain old jealousy? Probably a bit of both but it was too close. What if it had been Cassie sneaking in again? Conning him or Lawrence into letting her in – just to dance, just for a drink she wasn’t legally old enough to have yet. Wanting in without any real sense of what trouble she could find herself in the middle of. A bloody tug of war over who was gonna possess, who was gonna taste all that light. He sighed, with Hector forewarned by Hannya as she’d booted him under the bus with her slutty stilettos any chance Cassie was gonna get in there unnoticed were slim to zero anyway. Safer for her that way, although it was probably just gonna be a red flag to an adorable bull.

He turned again, fist thumping into the pillow like it was somehow gonna pummel all of this shit into place. Linc flounced back down, froze at the sound of the apartment door. Magnus home from whatever he did all day while his poor orphaned little ward was confined to quarters by the sun they still hadn’t gotten him a secret vampire decoder ring to escape from.

Not even the excuse of work to escape the house tonight. Magnus had his grass in Hector, passing on his schedule like it had to be cleared with his erstwhile parent. Twenty three and under the thumb here like he’d been everywhere else in his life so far, just without those vicious twists that had come from everybody else whose thumb it had been.

Linc paused as his name rang up those stairs. It could’ve been a pin dropped and it still would’ve rung through. A summoning he couldn’t ignore, not without ticking this off into another of those discussions. Dinner? He snorted, the sound brief and sharp as he sat up. A disguise like everything but the blood bags he’d been nudged towards in lieu of those first few explosive feeds. Moderation. The meals were meant to help with it but he might as well have been chewing the curtains for all the satisfaction it brought.

Gut knotting like it had done every day since Emerald City had exploded bloodily, Lincoln started down the stairs. Each day another chance Hector – or Hannya and Lawrence – would open their mouths to Magnus. ’Sort your boy out, huh?’ He padded into the kitchen and or look, there it was as his hands fell onto the first paper bag. ”You mean I get the choice to pick no lecture about it?” he asked, his throat tight. Linc’s shoulders hunched under the grey t-shirt, his jaw tight as he started to unpack one of the bags.

It had been Hector then. The two of them probably sitting drinking with their feet up, lamenting the choice to employ him in the first place. Linc glanced aside as he shoved the steak aside on the counter – a luxury with Mrs. Graham, the closest thing to that iron hit of something fresh from the vein now. ”I’m sure he could’ve given you all the details. He didn’t tell you my phone was outside the storage closet? I’m all sorts of special now, but I still can’t go dancing in sun beams, can I?” A bitterness there that hadn’t worn itself out yet. ”What were you gonna do to help?” Play his saviour again and ward off the sun to rescue him? Slide in there, sword held high to cut down anybody who put his boy in danger. Naw. ”You got any chips to go with this?” Eyes not quite meeting Magnus’ as he held up the packaged meat.

Tagged: MAGNUS DAYNE * Word Count: 891

Mums hollering out into the common area at the centre of the estate, the garden as it’d been ridiculously termed, tellings off delivered at full bore, steam engine screeching levels. They never cared what witnesses they had to their lectures, or the ribbings their kids would get later. There’d been looks though. Linc glanced up at Magnus from under his lashes before his eyes ticked away, scanning the room in a flickering motion as though there’d be someone else there to snicker over his scalding. Finally his turn after two decades without the sort of parental influence that would’ve even blinked at what had happened at the club.

It wouldn’t have surprised him to find Hannya there, bare legs crossed as she perched on the counter or posed in one of the chairs. Unabashed glee written all over her face. Or Hector, dark and broody, sighing as his own role in the situation was revealed – and there was one, mate – a little smug working its way into his almost black eyes. They’d obviously done the grassing in the first place to make this happen. To put that puckered look on Magnus’ face and encourage him into that talk, even it seemed to come with more disappointment that boiling kettle heat.

Muscles pulsed in Linc’s jaw as he bit down on the simple ’don’t then’. Magnus wasn’t Wesley, he wouldn’t react to the cheek by shoving him back into the wall at vampire speed, veins creeping beneath his eyes, fangs flashing in warning for what would happen if he didn’t try and keep a civil tongue in his head. Fingers curling tight in the paper bag, Lincoln shrugged. ”They all discussed it already.” If you could call the free for all of tossing each other under the bus discussion. It had been finger pointing at a level Wesley wouldn’t have tolerated. This wasn’t London though, Magnus had given him a reprieve from that.

And had brought him into another nightmare without much hope of an escape. This one was dressed up prettier.

He could’ve muttered back about the orders but he bit down on them. This would just drag out all night if he bitched his way through it. Play the good son Magnus wanted and he’d get out of here sooner, back to the club that’d been the cause of all of this. He mentally snorted at that. Shaking his head, Linc started folding up the empty bags, fingers that felt almost numb creasing the paper sharply. ”Kinda relies on me gettin’ access to the phone though, don’t it?” he asked. There’d been time, when things were first kicking off but then it’d been a triggering rush of raised voices and violence. A splash of blood hot on his skin, his scramble back as things had gotten worse and then the slam of the door, the fight right outside of it. "They coulda called too. Hector at least.” And Hector could’ve crabbed and bitched about it all, finding out sooner who was banging who in the broom closet before their little meeting. All the while Magnus would’ve been scurrying home with him, the delicate little flower who’d fry in minutes in the sun.

Linc stared down at the bag, short blunt nails working over it, shoulders hunched under the cover of his t-shirt before they stiffened. Blue eyes rose slowly, fixed on Magnus as he sparked the oven up. ”But I didn’t do what I should’ve done,” he said quietly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. With Wesley it would’ve been an anvil rather than a shoe, smashing you to the ground, the way it’d done his parents. Not that they’d been worthy of the name really.

Magnus on the other hand was almost desperate to live up with it. Salad. A low sound of disappointment rolled from Linc. Wasn’t like anybody but Mrs. Graham had bothered that way and even then it was just whatever her meagre pension could stretch to when it was pulled whisper thin over two people. ”You’ve got no taste,” Linc shot back with no real venom. Hand over the meat he’d held up down, Linc trailed to the fridge. He looked at the blood bags for a moment, stored all neat in their little box, like the salad, needing to be crisped up before they were downed. Bypassing them he snagged a can of soda, popped it before he turned back to the leaves.

Setting it down on the counter with a sigh, Linc hung his head for a moment. There it was, the other shoe, kicking him in the gut. None of them could keep their mouths shut. Had that one been Lawrence? Had Magnus been treated to all of them, sliding into a staff meeting in his place? ”She’s not gettin’ involved,” he said tightly, grabbing a bowl to toss the salad leaves into. ”She wasn’t meant to be in the club in the first place. It’s not safe for her there, is it?” There was a sharp edge to his tone, the memory of the warmth of Cassie’s skin against his mouth rushing back in. She wasn’t safe with him, why would he ask her to help and force her to be around him more when he wanted to…

Convulsive gulps of his soda did nothing to wash the memory around. Linc lifted the can, pressed it to the back of his neck like it’d do anything for him now. He leaned back against the counter, frowning as Magnus retrieved the other bits of salad and plopped them next to him. For a moment he just stared at his maker and then hissed out a sigh, grabbing a knife to start chopping. ”I thought that was the point of coming here, you knew people who could help me get…” Settled, straight, all prettied up with a little lapis lazuli like he wasn’t a thing of the night, of nightmares, now. ”She … likes me. You want me to play on that to get her to make me a ring?” Muscles flexing in his jaw again as he clacked the knife down through the tomatoes, juice staining the board on the counter, like blood watered down. Like he’d imagined spilling from Cassie’s throat. Horror and hunger mixing sickening in the pit of his stomach even now.

Tagged: MAGNUS DAYNE * Word Count: 1055

The snort that rolled out of Linc was bitter, heavy with doubt. He was working in a place where everything ancient, selfish and impulsive seemed to continually gather. It wasn’t a matter of if a next bout of trouble was coming or even how bad his part in it would end up, it was happening and as the lowest rung on the ladder, and the youngest, he was gonna be at the shit end of it all. Hannya would make sure of that if nobody else did. She wasn’t just the sort to throw you under the bus, she’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear while she planted a stiletto heel in your back and kicked you under there. Her and Wes probably would’ve gotten on like a house on fire.

Linc eyed Magnus as he turned away from the fridge with the can in hand. Was he eyeing him? Had he expected him to grab a blood bag instead, defying the rules they’d set out like a kid bunking off of school? Break the rules, take what he wanted, just like Wes had taught all of his people. He swallowed hard, popping the tab to take a gulp. If he’d been that desperate to feed he wouldn’t have been able to pull back when Cassie had practically presented herself to him in the club. Head thrown back, her blood pumping right beneath her warm skin, his lips grazing … shit. Linc lifted the can, took another gulp that did nothing for his hunger, the cold washed away by the inner heat in seconds. Magnus was grinning, obviously reassured by it but maybe he shouldn’t have been.

Blue eyes tracked Magnus without really turning his head, fingers toying with the spices – more exotic than what you’d find in almost any council estate cupboards. Magnus’ lessons could leave him wanting to tear off his own ears but he was still the closest thing to a parent he had here. Someone old and supposedly wise – someone who’d obviously fucked up a time or two and was still standing despite it. He’d put a baby vampire in the club, thinking it was a good idea. That wasn’t that different to letting a baby witch in for a short time, was it? Not to him but Magnus and his peculiar rules. ”The second time wasn’t my fault,” Linc bit back, aiming a finger at Magnus in his defence. ”That was someone else who’s meant to be older and wiser. I’m not getting blamed for what he did.” Lawrence. Hannya’s little golden boy. He didn’t imagined Lawrence had gotten rapped on the knuckles for getting Cassie drunk and letting her puke her guts out.

He'd asked, practically order Lawrence not to do it again. The tension was there in Linc’s shoulders at the thought of it happening though. Someone else’s lips clamped on Cassie’s throat, her body sliding bonelessly from her hands. It left him shivering in a way the can on the nape of his neck didn’t account for. ”And the club’s that, is it?” he asked. Linc dropped his gaze to the floor, shook his head while he turned to start hacking at the salad. ”None of it seems to be workin’ out your way. I can’t keep going like this. Someone’s gonna notice somethin’ eventually.” People had eyes in their heads and it was obvious some knew here. Something had to change and … he didn’t want it to be Cassie that made it happen.

Muscles bunched in Linc’s jaw and he wanted to toss the knife down on the counter and push this into the sort of argument he wouldn’t have dared to engage in with Wes. Stepping over the line there he’d have ended up like his parents, bleeding out on the rug instead of sent to bed without his dinner. ”Sounds pretty dishonest,” he uttered. ”You don’t want her near the club but you’re happy for me to use whatever power she’s got for this.” Just bring it up. Like he could just go ’”Hey, Cassie, you wanna see me out in the sun, don’t you?’ She’d probably do it in an instant, if she was even speaking to him anymore. The hurt on her face when he’d shoved her out of the club clawed its way back into her brain now.

There is was, the other shoe. Linc snorted through his nose, nodded faintly as he hacked at the tomatoes. He shoved them aside with the blade, the pit of his stomach twisting. So she was just gonna track him, probably with his own blood – if there was any of that actually left in his system anymore after Wes’ people drained him. ”You’re critiquing the tomatoes?” Linc looked up and barked out a laugh. ”Wait til you see what I do with the cucumber.” He’d picture it being Hector’s neck – the grass deserved it after all.

Linc gritted his teeth as he dragged the cucumber over and began to hack lumps off of that too. ”She found someone else to let her in then. I wouldn’t … she knew I wouldn’t … I made her go and …” She’d looked up at him with eyes full of hurt and confusion. It made his gums ache even now. He tossed the knife aside, scooped up handfuls of the veggies to toss them in the bowl. ”How do you avoid it?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice as he looked up. Maybe by living like a monk? It wasn’t like Magnus had a whole lot of female company and he wasn’t taking the blame for that

Tagged: MAGNUS DAYNE * Word Count: 937

Right. No finger of blame pointed at him, even if the questions had been heavy on the ‘why didn’t you?’

Linc huffed out a bitter breath, licking the soda from his lips even though there was no satisfaction in it anymore. As a kid he’d always lit up like a bloody candle when Mrs Graham would pressed a pound coin into his palm and tell him to go down to the corner shop, carefully, and get himself something. There was none of that anymore, heading out to grab a chocolate bar or a can of coke any time he felt like it because now every move had to be planned to avoid the sun. More importantly to avoid temptation. If the club was meant to be teaching him how to do that then it was failing on every front.

Hector’s rules could’ve been reeled off like a shopping list now, underscored with the ones Magnus had suggested, but it didn’t mean any of them were easy to follow in a place where the clientele were just as likely to paint the place red as the staff were. He didn’t go fighting Hector’s orders but Magnus’ promises all seemed to have disappeared like smoke and they’d been thin in the first place.

The sigh rolled out of him, leaving him sagging over the steaks. Linc raked his teeth over his lower lip, taking out frustration on an innocent tomato, ready to reduce it to mulch while Magnus tried to give him an attitude adjustment. It wasn’t like his parents had ever tried to, he was little more than an old suitcase to them, a weight to carry around when all they wanted to do was shuffle him off to lost property. A breath huffed out through his nose as he shrugged. ”I’m tryin’,” he ground out. ”You want to stick a star chart up on the wall? See if it gets me putting in some more effort for a shiny little sticker.” His mouth clamped shut the minute he said it, a hand going up to ward off the bite back. Maybe that’d be uncalled for but it wasn’t like he’d been sitting there twiddling his thumbs and whining about how hard he had it. It was just no matter what he seemed to try, shit didn’t improve.

Linc’s brows bunched as he shot a look up at Magnus. He hadn’t really raised his voice but there was a bite there. Blue eyes narrowed, his expression mutinous for a minute. ”Doesn’t sound like there’s much difference. If it’s dangerous for her she shouldn’t be there.” Cassie seemed to have no sense of danger. She’d walked right in with him, almost drawing him in when the hunger had struck instead of pushing him away like she should’ve done. He was dangerous for her. Linc let out a long breath, nodding briskly. ”Fine, I’ll ask.” Then he’d feel that bubble pop inside when the chance was crushed. Years more spent in the dark because he hadn’t been able to talk Cassie around.

He’d have taken it out on a hundred more salads, burying the damn knife in the cutting board eventually when the steam of frustration blew out of him like a pressure cooker. It was more like it was leaking now, jetting out in little puffs as Magnus’ needling took on a softer edge. Linc slowed down with the knife, the chunks becoming more regular. He set the knife aside, scooping the cucumber into the bowl as something cracked open inside of him like a door. Propping his hands on the edge of the counter he gave a bitter little laugh. ”You’re right. I don’t like it. I didn’t want this … I saw it and they didn’t care about stoppin’.” Wesley wouldn’t have cared about his face changing or controlling himself. It would’ve been a feeding frenzy.

Control. Linc let his head hang between his braced arms, a trace of heat working its way up into his face. He’d been feeling something else when he’d almost slipped. It hadn’t an open wound distracting him but another need that had slipped sideways. The feel of Cassie beneath his hands, the taste of her mouth, the warmth his own body seemed to bleed out between meals. Linc pressed his lips together, trying not to focus on the memory now. ”So practice, distract myself, and hope nobody takes a chunk out of themselves when I’m nearby.” That seemed to pin a lot on hope and faith.

Slow breaths in and out and Linc seemed to draw himself up. He watched Magnus set down the line of salad dressings like he was some sort of gourmet instead of a blood sucker. Linc let his gaze tick between the bottles before he picked up the Italian one – they’d always drowned the salads in the pizza place near the estate with it, Mrs Graham practically in rhapsodies over it. ”Ripper, like Jack,” Linc said softly as he poured the dressing onto the salad, gripping the side of the bowl to give it all a flip. ”Was he one of us?” It wouldn’t have been as big a surprise now as it would’ve been once upon a time. ”Are you a ripper? Is that what happened after you lost her?” Was it genetic? It should’ve been ridiculous but it wasn’t like he hadn’t wondered if his parents’ addictions had reared their ugly heads in him some way.

Magnus wasn’t really a parent. He was a sire, big fucking difference, but he was also the closest thing he’d had to a parent since Mrs Graham had died. Practically tucking him up in bed when the sun started coming up, setting curfews, making sure there wasn’t a damn chip in sight. ”Might shed a tear or two, and then eat a bag of chips in remembrance.” A dry joke that turned practically Saharan when his smile was cut off at Magnus’ question.

Face open, almost vulnerable, Linc shook his head and thunked the bottle down on the counter top. ”No, but she told me I could. She doesn’t get it. I wanted to. It was right there under her skin and I wouldn’t have stopped. I know I wouldn’t and I didn’t want her dead. I hurt her another way tellin’ her no and gettin’ her out.” The expression on Cassie’s face had cut him. He shook his head to try and get rid of it now, lifting his chin towards the cutlery draw. ”You want me to set the table?” It wasn’t like having the steaks a little bloody would bother either one of them much.

Tagged: MAGNUS DAYNE * Word Count: 1107 (soz!)