TITLE: Icarus Manor, chapter 21

AUTHOR: lillywhite1, but you can call me Casey.

SUMMARY: In a mysterious mansion in a secluded part of North America, a man 
discovers that he is far from alone in the world. Here at Icarus Manor several species of 
non-human description live together to survive in a world that does not know they exist. 
LAST CHAPTER: William awakes briefly to be thrown back into darkness by some 
unknown force. Dominic and Astrid stumble into an unfortunate situation. Introduction of 
Jeremy Andrews. THIS CHAPTER: Sean continues to carry out his grim business. 
Viggo, Orlando, and Elijah decide to do something for Mr. Boyd.

PAIRING: DM/BB, hints of EW/SA

RATING: R

FEEDBACK: is my neutella on a spoon that makes me go all gooey and melty and 
mmmmm...

A/N: Text in asterisks (*) represents italics indicating remembering, creepy voice, 
thoughts, or general emphasis. This is a book and a work in progress. Be gentle. 
Comments to cswann1@gmail.com.

Chapter 21

Sean sat focused in an old wingback chair in Mr. Boyd’s chambers. He hadn’t taken his 
eyes off of Mr. Boyd’s body once in the past three weeks. He was told that it was 
essential to his triumphant return to keep Mr. Boyd here and quiet. He had been told this 
was the only way. 

He had been told a lot of things lately.

Something stirred deep inside as well as on the surface of Mr. Boyd’s body. The Nothing 
Colors appeared again, wispy over him. He thought of them as “nothing colors” because 
nothing could describe the violent purple-blue-green-yellow-orange-red that they were. 
They were ever-changing and indescribable, but there was no denying that they were 
there. He concentrated with all of his might on them, to push them back down into Mr. 
Boyd’s body again, but they rebelled as always.  This time was stronger than the last, but 
it lasted for only a short while before they sank down and disappeared. The voice told 
him that this was keeping Mr. Boyd from dying; that he was pushing Mr. Boyd’s soul 
back into his body. He couldn’t help but wonder. Sean felt the uncomfortable itch of his 
conscience. 

That strange smell resurfaced again: Musky, but sharp; foul, no doubt. It could only be 
described as unnatural. A quick skittering of the body that accompanied the voice was 
felt near Sean’s left side, and as unnerved as it made him, he knew this thing and didn’t 
stir from his chair.

*How does he do?*

“The wisps came back again. I suppressed them like you told me to.” Sean shifted to 
make himself more comfortable, but no comfort was to be found around this creature.

*Wonderful. You have done well. You will be rewarded handsomely.*

“I’d better be,” Sean’s head drooped to his hand, “I’m so tired.”

*But with much more power, yes?*

“Oh sure. My mind can command anything my body can, but ten fold better. I hear their 
thoughts. My enemies cower from me. I could stop the beating of a whale’s heart half a 
world away with little more than a blink of the power I own. All of that power is mine 
and yet I cannot rest. My eyes are always heavy; my body always weary. I become less 
and less of a living, breathing thing every day and more of a shell for this immense power 
so graciously bestowed upon me.”

*I warned that there would be necessary sacrifices along the way to your true goal. Do 
not pretend that I deceived you.*

Sean felt the thing surge subtly with anger, and for some reason frustration.

“I accepted all curses that accompanied this blessing upon my initiation. Do not pretend 
that I am a fool.”

The thing exuded a touch of amusement now. Its emotions fluctuated so frequently that 
Sean found it useless to try and decode them, but he could try to predict them.

“Tell me again what the Nothing Colors are.”

He read frustration from the creature; that was expected.	

*I explained it already. The wisps are his soul trying to escape. If they leave the body for 
too long, they may forget to come back, and he will die. You don’t want him to die 
before you have the chance to save him, do you? If he dies, he cannot return to you your 
former life and privileges. You see where this is going?*

“Of course I see. I keep them down and he remains alive.”

*That’s right.* Sean read satisfaction and intense anticipation. He found it strange that 
the creature should be so invested in Sean’s happiness. 

*I will return soon.*

And with that, the voice and the creature it emanated from were gone.

Sean smiled slowly to himself. The creature did not know that he knew of its physical 
form. The thing had made considerable effort to hide all but its mental presence from 
him. A recent shift in his own power made it possible for him to sense more things on 
more planes. 

The creature also had been able to read his mind until the past week or two. It was still a 
presence in his mind, of course, but he found he could hide things from it. His mental 
abilities had grown past the protégé stage. He could move boulders in the mountains with 
ease from hundreds of feet. He could crush a tree trunk as if it were hollow Styrofoam. 
He ran down a deer in under half a minute and stopped its frightened heart without 
remorse. He had gained considerable power, yes. But he was no closer to achieving 
anything worth having after all of this torture. 

Sean found himself fingering the amulet under his shirt again. He pulled it out and looked 
at it again. The spark that had begun at the center was stretching out towards the edges of 
the purple stone; growing or approaching as if from far away. It had reached just over 
half the surface of the gem. Sean couldn’t help but feel as if something menacing was 
advancing upon him.

Sean’s head snapped up when he heard a faint, ghostly cry. He looked again at the bed 
that housed Mr. Boyd’s body. The Nothing Colors had surfaced again. Sean was puzzled. 
They usually bedded down for a while before coming up again. This was too soon. And 
now there was this crying. It was almost too much to listen to, this wailing. Sean focused 
on the tendrils of nothing color and pushed them down again. He pushed and shoved with 
more power than he’d previously thought necessary, and eventually, the colors faded as 
did the crying.

Sean got up and paced the floor. Why was he doing this? He had no real reason to trust 
the creature, especially since he knew that it didn’t have his best interests at heart. It had 
*its* best interests at heart, if it even had a heart. His conscience made his fevered brain 
itch, but for now there was not much to do about it. 

Sean drew near to the bedside. Mr. Boyd’s body was wrapped in gauze for sanitary 
reasons as well as aesthetic. He wondered how much of Mr. Boyd was alive in there. 
How much of him would want to live after such a trial? Perhaps that was the reason his 
soul couldn’t stand it in there for very long. On the other hand, if he was alive and 
incapacitated in there, he would probably be trying to reach out to the nearest sentient 
being for help.

Sean had less than a second to mull that tidbit over before he heard footsteps approaching 
the chamber. He ran to the opposite side of the room and stood just inside the bathroom 
threshold. He had plenty of time to hide until they arrived, but paranoia was a side-effect 
of his extraordinary power.

Sean could distinguish multiple patterns in the nearing visitors. There were three. He 
heard light, irregular steps with a generally long and slow gait. That would be Orlando 
trying to tone down his step for the other two walkers. Another was self-assured, and had 
very good posture, but was unusually tired. That would be the unfortunate Dr. Mortensen 
who would not rest until he had found something to aid Mr. Boyd’s recovery. It was 
sweet in an obsessive way. Last, but certainly not least was an unsure gait with definite 
emphasis on the outer edges of the feet. They were light but dense footfalls, with 
occasional stumbles. It was none other than his beautiful Elijah. Would he never learn 
how to walk properly on the Earth? Sean shielded himself with his mind; cloaked himself 
as best he could to avoid detection.

The door opened and in strode the three crusaders. 

*Oh my dear ‘Lijah.*

If it were possible, he was even more beautiful than the last time Sean had seen him. His 
bright blue eyes were glazed over with worry, but sparkled as they always had. Lilly-
white skin free of blemishes glowed, setting off his black locks deliciously.

“I don’t want to try this.” The good doctor grasped a clay pot in one hand full of some 
sort of minty ointment. He ran a hand through his frequently tousled hair.

“This is no time to be coy.” Orlando gestured to the unconscious and badly injured man, 
“Mr. Boyd needs us, and we’ve tried everything else.” 

“Everything else that doesn’t carry a risk.” Dr. Mortensen’s tone was wary.

As Orlando and Dr. Mortensen argued the finer points of experimentation on an 
unknowing subject, gentle Elijah walked slowly to the edge of the bed and gazed upon 
the unfortunate being wrapped in gauze. Sean marveled at the intense expression of 
concern on Elijah’s porcelain face. Seeing his seamless brow knotted and bottom lip 
pinned between ivory teeth was nearly too much. Elijah was a saint of compassion, and it 
broke Sean’s heart to see him suffer so.  At that moment Sean decided he would do 
everything he could to help Mr. Boyd heal. 

Orlando’s argument had progressed to less-intelligent shouting, “Will you *please* just 
put on the FUCKING salve? Or if you’re such a genius, think of something *else*!”

“I *have* and it’s called doing nothing!”

“*Nothing* seems to have little effect!” Orlando’s temples began to grow orange, 
threatening inferno.

“Guys! Please!” Elijah yelled over the din, “Arguing doesn’t help either. Besides, he may 
be able to hear us. He needs to rest.”

“Rest is all he’s done for three weeks,” Orlando grabbed the clay pot from the doctor’s 
grasp and flipped back he covers from Mr. Boyd’s feet. He gently unwrapped the gauze 
from a few toes, revealing burned and blackened skin. Barely cringing, Orlando smeared 
a bit of the salve from the clay pot on the exposed injury, and quickly hid his alteration 
with the gauze again.

“There. Now we’ll check up on him in a few hours.” Orlando placed the pot on the floor 
by the bedside, “If it doesn’t work, he’ll only have lost his toes.” Orlando stormed out the 
room.

The doctor sighed and left without comment. 

Elijah replaced the covers and picked up the pot of salve from the floor. He placed it 
lightly on the bedside table and stared down at the unconscious body of his employer, 
near tears. 
This was too much for Sean.  It had been mere months since they had last laid eyes on 
each other, but he could not let this precious being escape his sight for one more moment.

“Elijah.”

The merman turned towards him, startled, then relieved. “Sean, you scared me.” His face 
then clouded over with numerous conflicting emotions. “Why are you in there? Where 
have you been?”

Sean was overcome with a wave of love for this man so strong it pushed him forward, 
“Elijah—“

Elijah stepped back, “Did you really do it, Seanie? Did you try to have Dominic killed?”

“No. No, of course not.” Sean moved towards Elijah again.

“Then why didn’t you fight being demoted?” Elijah maintained the distance between 
them. “Why didn’t you come to us and tell us what really happened? Why,” Elijah’s 
voice choked up with repressed tears, “why did you go away?”

“’Lijah, please.”

“Sean, you did arrange to have Dominic beaten, didn’t you?”

Sean thought as quickly as possible. His whole future with Elijah could hang on this 
answer. “Yes, but I never wanted him dead. I was just trying to protect you.”

Elijah cast his gaze down to the floor as he thought intensely, his brow a knot of 
concentration. After several heart-wrenching moments, he shook his head sadly, “I’m 
sorry, Sean, but I don’t believe you.” 

And with that, he was gone.

~

Orlando fumed down the hallway. He knew his hair would catch fire soon if he continued 
to be this angry. The last of his very, very expensive *Unearthly Botanical Styling and 
Sculpting Gel* (made with real Moonflowers for calming aromatherapy!) burnt off in a 
small puff of smoke. This alone was almost enough to push him over the edge. 

And suddenly, Orlando couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly depressed. *What did a 
fire-wielding forest fairy have to do to get some decent hair product around here? Was it 
really that much to ask to have fire-proof hair gel resistant up to 200 degrees? Would he 
never be able to blow-dry like all other decent beings?*

A few tears became a steady stream, and before Orlando could do anything, a spigot 
opened in his head, and waterworks the likes of which the third floor west-wing hallway 
had never seen came pouring down his face. It seemed as if every little unresolved issue 
became an unimaginable burden, and Orlando crumpled under the weight. This had been 
happening too often lately.

“Orlando, are you okay?”	

Orlando turned toward the voice, startled. It was only Viggo. He’d probably been crying 
so long that Viggo had the chance to catch up to him. Orlando swore under his breath for 
breaking down in public.

“Yeah, I’m just ducky.” He quickly wiped away the remaining tears.

“Just a second ago you were furious, and now you’re crying.” Viggo was nothing but 
honest and sympathetic, but Orlando saw it as a personal insult.

“Oh, so now I’m emotionally unstable, am I? What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t 
you just leave me alone, you asshole?” Orlando’s hair began to grow reddish in hue and 
was progressing to orange with frightening speed, “All I wanted to do was help, but ever 
since Mr. Boyd’s fall, I haven’t been able to do anything without you pushing me away. I 
want to help in the OR, you say no. I want to try and make him better, you tell me ‘it’s 
not a good idea.’”  The air about his head began to heat up. His orange locks began to 
shake to infernal life. “What makes you think you have the right to push us all away?! 
You selfish bastard! Why don’t you fuck off down to your lab and—”

There was a quick shift in energy, and before Orlando could do anything, Viggo was 
embracing him wholly. It took Orlando a few seconds to realize he’d embraced Viggo 
back. Neither of the two moved for quite some time.

“Orlando, if you weren’t okay, you would let us know, right?” Viggo’s voice was tender.

Orlando almost began to cry again, “Of course I would.”

Viggo finally leaned back out of the hug and took the smaller man by the shoulders, 
“Even though we are in a bit of a crisis, it doesn’t mean that we can’t attend to each 
other’s needs. On the contrary, we need to look out for each other more than ever.”

Viggo’s hands fell away as Orlando shifted awkwardly, “I know. Thank you. Um, do you 
want to go to the kitchen with me? I’m starving.”

Viggo’s deep chuckle reverberated off the bare hallway walls, “Of course.”
~
Thanks for reading! Please email comments to cswann1@gmail.com.