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"I won't do it! I won't work with him!"
Conversations came to a halt around the dinner table at Flavian’s unusual outburst, and he flushed as everyone's eyes turned towards him. Dr Simonson looked positively flabbergasted, but it didn’t stop him from talking.
"My understanding was that everything has been finalised. Flavian, you will meet Mordecai in London, on Tuesday, and once he has the information we need about the smuggling ring we’ve uncovered, the two of you will track them down in this world and you will remove their magic."
Flavian tried to think of something to say - but he found it difficult to confront his feelings about Mordecai in his own head, let alone explain them to Dr Simonson in the middle of dinner. When the Doctor failed to elicit a satisfactory reaction he turned to Christopher.
"Chant?"
"Er - I hadn't quite spoken to him yet." said Christopher vaguely.
Flavian winced as the Doctor slapped his hand down on the table with frustration.
“Time is of the essence here!" he exclaimed. "With Gabriel away, you are in charge of catching these smugglers. He’s laid all the groundwork, it should be a simple task.”
He glared at Christopher, who widened his eyes slowly, but said nothing. Flavian stared fixedly at his plate, his face still red with embarrassment.
Dr Simonson sighed. "All right Chant, I suppose you know what you're doing.”
He picked up his glass and took a large gulp of wine. Conversations started up again, and as Flavian loosened his pale hands from where they had clenched around his silverware, he could hear fragments of normality: "no, you must always use copper - iron doesn't have nearly such a strong effect", "if you take your bicycle it's about ten minutes away" and "thank goodness Gabriel isn't here, he hates custard".
Several minutes later his breathing had slowed and his face no longer felt like it was glowing. He looked up to find himself staring straight into Christopher's misleadingly vague gaze. His stomach lurched, and he knew any further attempt at attaining calm was doomed, at least for the duration of dinner.
After the meal was finished Flavian was summoned to a fairly brief but awkward conversation with Christopher, in which the Enchanter acknowledged that yes, he did understand why Flavian didn't want to work with Mordecai, and yes, he did remember that he had betrayed them by working with the Wraith, but did Flavian remember that Mordecai was the best spirit traveller in the country, and he had helped them save Gabriel. After they both acknowledged that they both knew all this, and Christopher made some vague speeches about second chances and duty that Flavian was pretty sure were cribbed from one of Millie's school stories, Flavian found himself sighing and leaving the room with a train ticket to London (open-ended) and an address in his pocket. If nothing else, he thought glumly as he left the room, he did always enjoy a good train journey.
Flavian was finding it hard to become engrossed in his book. He’d found a compartment to himself so he could read peacefully, but he all he could think about was seeing Mordecai again. He packed the book back into his small leather duffel bag, noticing a couple of loose stitches on one of the straps. His parents had given the bag to him just after his graduation; he’d been hoping to be offered a research role at the university, but instead he received a very formal letter, black ink on stiff cream coloured paper, telling him that he had been recommended for a post at Chrestomanci Castle and could he please arrive at his earliest convenience, but before next Tuesday. It didn’t seem like he had a choice.
When Flavian had first arrived at Chrestomanci Castle, young and a little homesick, he had felt very out of place and unappreciated. On his third day in the Castle he had been sitting on a hard wooden chair outside the intimidating black door of Gabriel’s office, wiping his sweaty palms on his trouser legs as he waited to meet him for the first time. Mordecai had walked past him, grinned, and cheerfully told him that Gabriel was “not terrifying, more like a slightly scary teddy-bear”. After his meeting with the Chrestomanci Flavian couldn’t agree with what Mordecai said, but the fact that he’d said it cheered him up no end, and from that point his life in the Castle became less lonely. It didn’t take Flavian long to find out that Mordecai was not only the most brilliant spirit traveller in the country, but also an excellent cricketer, good-looking, and charming. Flavian's initial hero-worship soon turned into friendship, and as time went by his feelings grew even deeper.
Then came the revelation that Mordecai was working with the Wraith. Flavian had felt like he'd been punched in the guts, and two years later that feeling was still there. Now, two hours before he had to work with Mordecai, was probably the worst timing ever for acknowledging his feelings about the other man. They had been close, and Flavian had wanted them to be closer. Once he had almost told him so, but sensing the slight distance that Mordecai always seemed to put around himself, and unsure if he would reciprocate his feelings, Flavian had stayed silent.
Flavian sighed, unwilling to examine too closely his suspicion that less of his feeling of being betrayed came from Mordecai working with the Wraith, and more from the fact that when he returned from Series Eleven, soul intact, he had gone straight to Miss Rosalie. In that moment, Flavian had vowed never to have anything to do with Mordecai again. He’d achieved that to an extent; initially he had taken a new role which had required a lot of travelling, then for the last eight months Mordecai had been living in London. But his thoughts often dwelled on the happy times the two had spent at the Castle, and he had to ruthlessly force himself to stop reminiscing. He’d spent two years building up his heart against the other man; if they had to work together again then he would be civil, but no more. He sighed again. When this was all over, he told himself as he stared out the train window at the countryside sliding past, he would treat himself to a nice holiday.
Due to excess leaves on the tracks the train was slightly delayed, so Flavian was in a rush and nearly missed the 'Bermondsey Lane' street sign. It was high up on the side of a wooden building, dark brown and slightly lopsided with age, which contained a small and welcoming pub and not one but two second hand bookshops. Promising himself a look later if all went well, Flavian turned into the lane, found number 12, and stood there for a moment. He mopped the sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief, took a deep breath, and knocked firmly on the door.
Seeing Mordecai again after all this time should have been a disappointment, thought Flavian. He should have appeared smaller, less interesting; Flavian’s feelings for him should have been spoilt by the knowledge of his betrayal. But instead… instead as the door opened to reveal Mordecai, he could feel his stomach clench, and his heart jump. All the feelings Flavian had for the other man came crashing back. Great, Flavian thought. He really wasn’t going to make this easy on himself, was he?
“Flavian. It’s good to see you again.” Mordecai smiled at him. He looked sincere, but the little furrow of worry between his eyebrows showed that he was nervous.
“Mordecai.” Flavian managed to reply, relieved that his voice stayed steady. “Uh, Christopher told me he spoke to you last night, that you have all the instructions.”
“Yes, we’ve had a few practice runs, and today I’ll meet our Series Eight contact and get the information we need. It should be fairly quick.”
“Is Rosalie here already?” Flavian couldn’t help the tension in his voice.
“Rosalie? No, it’s Amy now. She’s just setting everything up - come through and meet her.”
Flavian followed Mordecai through to the sitting room, the curtains had been closed so it was dark and cosy, the flickering shadows from the candles looked like flames on the low ceilinged walls. Flavian was introduced to Amy, a friendly, serious looking young woman, visiting from another Series Twelve World on a temporary work placement. He was relieved though surprised that Rosalie wasn’t there with Mordecai, he knew from the Castle grapevine that the two were still close. He deliberately chose to sit as far away from Mordecai as was possible, on a rickety cane chair right by the door. The soft sounds from the harp died away as Amy finished tuning.
“Shall we get started?”
Mordecai lay down on the sofa, eyes closed, ready to begin spirit travelling. Amy started playing, Flavian didn’t recognise the tune, not being overly knowledgeable about music, but it was pleasant to listen to. Glad to have emerged relatively unscathed from their first awkward conversation, he shifted a little in his chair to get more comfortable, wishing that he’d chosen the comfy looking armchair next to the sofa that he’d probably been intended to use. There was really nothing for him to do until Mordecai came back with the information they needed, but Christopher had been adamant he be here to oversee the spirit travelling.
He could tell the moment when Mordecai left this world - his skin, far from being its normal burnished brown, turned so pale it was almost translucent. Flavian blinked in surprise - it was translucent - he could see the golden brocade of the sofa showing clearly through the other man’s face! Amy continued playing, unconcerned, so this was obviously normal. The last time he’d seen Mordecai in a trance was two years ago, when he had been pale, but not see-through. His power had obviously become much stronger since then. Perhaps Amy’s presence helped too; Mordecai had always complained about Rosalie’s music putting his teeth on edge, which can’t have been a good state in which to spirit travel.
Someone (probably Dr Simonson) had once made a rather pointed comment at dinner about Mordecai’s attractive musicians. The next time Flavian had called in on Mordecai after a spirit travelling session, a young man with a flute was just leaving. "I always thought all those ladies were a bit suspicious" he had joked. "And a man isn't?" Mordecai had replied, turning his head and looking up curiously. Flavian had blushed furiously. He hadn’t wanted Mordecai to think he was that naive. Perhaps these weren’t the most appropriate thoughts to be having right now. Flavian closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the music, determined to put Mordecai from his mind.
Mordecai had been right, the spirit travelling went smoothly and it wasn’t long before he returned with the identities of the smugglers they were tracking. As they discussed a few details, Flavian could sense Mordecai losing some of his nervousness, regaining his confidence. It was something he had liked and envied about the other man, he always bounced back quickly. It seemed an easier way to get through life than constant brooding. The discussion over, they separated for lunch, Flavian going to the nearby pub and Mordecai and Amy to a cafe down by the river. “This is how to do it,” thought Flavian. “Remain strictly professional, and everything will be fine.”
Later that day the two men visited the house registered to the people Mordecai had traced. It was close to the river, a rather unprepossessing stone building set back from the road, with boarded up windows on the ground floor. Flavian pushed slightly ahead of Mordecai so that he was in the lead as they walked up the narrow path which led to the front entrance. The bright red door was solid, imposing, and appeared to have been attacked recently by some very large dogs - the bite-marks in the wood were higher than the top of Flavian’s head, and they had gone so deep that the brown of the wood showed clearly through the paint. Flavian thought the most intimidating thing about the place was the smell - he could distinguish old dragon’s blood and mould, and underneath there was some unidentifiable meaty odour that turned his stomach.
Resisting the urge to gag, Flavian stepped up to the door and knocked firmly. There was a moment of silence, then an almighty din of men and women yelling, dogs barking, and what sounded suspiciously like fireworks.
Flavian gestured at the door which unlocked with a click - pushing it open, he went inside the building, closely followed by Mordecai. There were three women and two men, all of them brandishing weapons of some sort. They looked unpleasant, well-dressed but with a sheen of dirt covering their grey clothes. Someone yelled something, but not in a language Flavian recognised. One of the women ran at him with a knife, and he gestured again, fixing her to the floor and sending the knife straight into his waiting hand. Glancing over at Mordecai, he saw him charging towards a man who held what looked like a crowbar. Flavian quickly disposed of all three remaining smugglers - one of them did throw a small metallic ball at him, but he levitated it up into the rafters where it exploded uselessly. Within minutes the four prisoners knelt on the floor, hands held behind their backs by an invisible force, struggling but unable to get free. Mordecai was still grappling with the remaining man, Flavian went to help but Mordecai stopped him with a shake of his head.
“I’ve got him!” he rasped, and at that moment he managed to knock the crowbar out of the man’s hands. Then he shoved the man towards Flavian. “You can do the rest!”
By the time Mordecai had gotten his breath back, Flavian had already removed the magic from all the smugglers; five jars sat on the floor full of some grey and sticky looking substance, an empty leather case beside them. Flavian chalked a pentagram on the floor, then swiftly sent the five through to the Ministry where officials were waiting for them.
“That was quick!” Mordecai said, respect obvious in his voice.
Flavian couldn’t help being pleased at the compliment, though also slightly insulted. He knew he was one of the most powerful magicians at Chrestomanci Castle, but he often felt overlooked.
“Well, Mordecai - maybe you always underestimated me.”
The combination of Mordecai’s spirit travelling and Flavian’s powerful magic proved very successful. Four days after they started, eighteen rogue wizards and witches had been divested of their magic, and the stuffy box room in the flat was full of smuggled goods and illegal items. They had to keep the door to the room locked, after their landlady made muttering noises about the dust and smells, and almost tipped over a case of Series One weapons with her broom.
One afternoon Flavian was on his way to meet Mordecai outside the home of an elusive thief of spell-books. As he rushed along the footpath he was approached by a small lost child who asked him tearfully if he knew where her mother was. Fifteen minutes later, he managed to extract himself from the grateful handshakes of the parents, and the sticky clasp of the small girl’s fingers, and he hurried off expecting Mordecai to be impatient, but waiting.
However by the time he arrived at the thief’s den (actually a perfectly respectable terrace flat) Mordecai had gone in, cast an immobility spell on the occupant, and sent for someone from the Ministry to come and take him away. Mordecai seemed pleased with his work, but Flavian was unimpressed when he discovered that Mordecai hadn’t found the spell-book. Worse than that, Mordecai admitted that the thief had managed to cast a spell just before he’d disabled him. It may well have been a transmission spell, in which case the book could be absolutely anywhere and they had no hope of finding it again.
“I told you not to go in until I got there! I actually said that!” Flavian was furious. He could feel his temperature rising. He didn’t lose his temper often but he knew that when he did, it could be ugly.
“But I didn’t know he would - “
“No! It doesn’t matter what you thought. Christopher told you to follow my orders, and I told you to wait for me. Now that spell-book is probably in the hands of some deranged magician. Just because you -“ Flavian cut himself off.
“Because I what?”
Flavian looked down. “You think you’re better than everyone else.”
Mordecai reared back, as if slapped.
“I don’t! Flavian, you know I don’t think that…”
Mordecai looked pleadingly at Flavian, who set his lips in a flat line and waited while Mordecai’s voice trailed off.
“I don’t know anything about you anymore.” He meant to sound dismissive, but to his ears it sounded like he was begging for an explanation.
Mordecai looked away. Flavian wasn’t sure if the knot in his stomach was from anger, or fear that this whole situation was getting slightly out of control. He plowed on, determined to make Mordecai see the error of his ways.
“It’s just typical of you to jump in without thinking! If I can’t rely on you to follow orders here, I suppose we’ll have to get someone to go with you in the Related Worlds too, and the Castle isn’t exactly overflowing with spirit travellers.” Flavian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the inevitable headache he always suffered after losing his temper. There was a long pause.
“Well then, why don’t you come with me?” Mordecai asked slowly, eyebrow raised. “I will follow your orders, but if you came you could help. It’d be much more useful than sitting there.”
“What?” Flavian was confused, his anger quickly deflating. “I… I can’t spirit travel. Not properly, beyond the World Edge. You know that.”
“I do know. But… Christopher and I have been experimenting. He had this theory that instead of travelling and leaving behind a life, people with only one life could travel and leave behind their souls.” Flavian blanched. “Just temporarily - but it means they are properly travelling, solid.”
“Is that why you were such a good spirit traveller - because your soul was in another place already?” Flavian was curious.
Mordecai shrugged. “Maybe. I’m still not as good as Christopher. But I’ve been able to visit several other Worlds this way, and now… well, Christopher had the idea that I could take someone with me. I took Throgmorten back to visit the Temple of Asheth, and he only has one life left now. So you shouldn’t be any more difficult.”
“But how - ?”
Mordecai held up his hand to Flavian who took it automatically.
“You just have to be touching.”
Flavian stared at their two hands, fingers clasped.
“Let go,” he told himself, but he couldn’t.
Mordecai smiled up at him, not his old brilliant smile, but a shy, unsure lift of his mouth.
“Flavian? Will you come with me?”
“Yes, anywhere,” thought Flavian. But he whispered “I don’t trust you.”
Mordecai’s face fell. Then it brightened. “Do you trust Christopher?”
“Of course.”
“Well, he trusts me. So… maybe that’s enough to start with?”
There was a long pause. Mordecai looked up hopefully at Flavian, hands still holding on tightly to each other, and all Flavian could think was that they must look like a rather peculiar “Creation of Adam”, though he couldn’t decide who was God and who was Adam.
It wasn’t really a choice. Flavian had been to the World Edge before (though he wasn’t a strong spirit traveller and all he had seen was a slightly green fog), it wasn’t the travelling which scared him - it was putting his faith in Mordecai. Flavian thought for a moment, then nodded. Mordecai squeezed his hand once, hard, then let it drop as they set off back to the flat. Absent-mindedly Flavian ran his thumb over his fingers. Adam. He was definitely Adam.
Flavian’s first time spirit travelling with Mordecai was startling, a little frightening; when he arrived at the World Edge he felt like he’d run a marathon, his heart thumping and mouth dry. Not that he’d ever run a marathon. Although once he’d gotten his bearings and he was following Tacroy (he supposed) down into the wet fog of one of the valleys, the whole place reminded him of a walking holiday he’d had in the Lake District.
The whole experience felt very disorienting to Flavian: the valleys, thousands of them, stretching as far as you could see in every direction; the noise and colour of the exotic city… he would have been frightened if he had been alone, but despite his misgivings he found Mordecai’s solid presence reassuring. Initially he thought the slight fuzziness he felt was a sort of sea-sickness from the spirit travelling, then he realised it was because he was missing his soul. His body felt solid, but he felt distanced from the people around him, and his emotions didn’t feel quite real. It dawned on him that Mordecai had been without his soul since he was a baby, and he felt a new empathy for the man. If he felt like this after being away from his soul for just a few hours, what must it have been like to live almost your whole life without one?
It was probably due to luck rather than Flavian’s presence, but on their arrival in the Series One city they very quickly ran into someone who recognised their description of the three smugglers, and who happened to know where they were staying. A brief search of the rooms turned up a small wooden box, its surface dark with age, and smelling very strongly of dragon’s blood. Clutching the box triumphantly, Mordecai smiled across at Flavian, and for the first time in two years Flavian felt himself smile back.
Flavian left two days later to return to the Castle. Part of him was glad to be going home - he knew now that he was in love with Mordecai, always had been, and he couldn’t see how that wouldn’t end badly. Mordecai was as charming as he always had been, but the flashes of uncertainty were new. Flavian thought that they made him even more attractive, he seemed less arrogant, more sympathetic. The other part of him wished that the stay in London could last forever: the cosy chats in the sitting room with Amy and Mordecai; the three of them running through the rain to get to the pub, one coat held above all their heads as they dodged people and uneven cobblestones; and best of all, one time Amy had shooed them out of the flat so she could practice her trombone, and the two men had spent a happy afternoon poring over the battered leather-bound tomes in the local bookshops, then reading companionably in the pub.
On his arrival back at the Castle, he was met with enthusiasm by Christopher and Dr Simonson. Christopher was eager to hear what he thought of spirit travelling, and Dr Simonson was so impressed at the speed at which they had dismantled the ring of smugglers that he had already planned their next mission, this time based at the Castle. Within a week Mordecai and Amy had packed up the flat and joined them.
Life at the Castle soon fell into a routine, Flavian and Mordecai would meet to carry out whatever tasks were assigned to them whether in the real world or while spirit travelling, but they avoided each other the rest of the time. Flavian wasn’t sure what Amy thought of the whole thing, once or twice the three of them had ended up sitting together at dinner, but although they both chatted freely with Amy, conversation between the two men was terse and awkward. Flavian felt wistful for what might have been, but he hardened his resolve. His heart had already been broken once: if he didn’t let himself get too close to Mordecai, then it couldn’t happen again.
One Sunday all the people in the Castle (not just those who could work magic) were summoned to meet in a nearby field. The initial problem had been almost embarrassingly minor - two witches in a nearby village had been trying to prove who had the stronger magic by conjuring increasingly large numbers of frogs. Unfortunately the junior magician assigned to fix the problem had made a mistake in her spell, and as the frogs were subsequently unaffected by magic, the resulting chaos took a long time to clean up. Flavian found himself working alongside Mordecai, bundling frogs into glass jars for the bootboys to transport back to the marsh.
The whole silly situation had put everyone in a good mood, and the croaking of the frogs provided a cheerful background for a sunny day in the countryside. Flavian found himself joking and smiling with Mordecai, as if the last two years had never happened. By the time the last frog was returned to its swampy home it was already dark, and everyone lingered in the Castle entrance-way before retiring to their rooms. Mordecai left before him, and perhaps it was Flavian’s imagination that the hand on his shoulder as he said goodbye lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Flavian was so exhausted that he fell into bed as soon as he got back to his room, and slept more soundly than he had for a long time, shoes, dirt and all.
Flavian slept late the next morning, and only woke when the gong rang for breakfast. As he hastily knotted his tie he stared at himself in the mirror. Less chubby than when he first arrived at the Castle, but still very pale. And the dark purple smudges under his eyes didn't help. He looked like exactly what he was, thought Flavian morosely: a tired civil servant. Destined to live a life alone, with only his books and spells for company. Giving himself a mental slap in the face, he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and went downstairs to the dining hall.
The whole day went badly. Flavian had been putting off his paperwork for a while, but Gabriel had been getting increasingly demanding letters from the Ministry and had finally summoned Flavian to a meeting to hurry him along. Despite his years working with him Flavian still found Gabriel intimidating, so after he left the Chrestomanci’s office he found a quiet space in the library and sat there, relentlessly filling in forms. He discovered that if he timed it right he could tick boxes in time with the loud library clock.
In the afternoon, he met with Mordecai and Amy for what was expected to be a routine excursion to Series Seven. By now Flavian was very familiar with the World Edge, and several of the Related Worlds, this was the second time they had been to this particular World. It was market day, and the colourful tents and stalls lining the steep streets looked cheerful under the hot sun, their fabric walls billowing slightly in the breeze. Once they had met their local contact and swapped information, Flavian persuaded Mordecai to stay and explore the market. Flavian found it fascinating to see what the different people in different worlds produced; he liked to buy artifacts (Mordecai called them trinkets) to take back with him and arrange in his room at the Castle. He was intrigued by a stall selling small clay figurines, the brilliant purple and emerald green glazes were like nothing he had seen before. He was examining each figurine intently, trying to come to a decision, while Mordecai waited indulgently in the sun across the street. Flavian glanced up and saw a heavily laden spice cart being hauled along the street by an ox; the animal had a flower garland perched around its horns at a jaunty angle. The next minute all hell broke lose. One of the cart’s wheels broke off from the axle - the ox bellowed with confusion and charged down the street, gaining speed rapidly despite the missing wheel. People were diving out of the way, but if the ox could only stay in the middle of the road it might make it safely down the hill. Suddenly the cart hit one of the milestones lining the street and it flipped unexpectedly - directly onto where Mordecai was standing.
Flavian screamed. “Mordecai!” He was running across the street but his legs felt like jelly and wouldn’t work properly. Already several stall-holders had come rushing to move the cart, and the owner of the ox had caught up with his runaway beast and was trying to calm it. To Flavian it felt like forever, but it must have only been minutes before the cart was heaved back onto the road. A cheer went up when Mordecai clambered out from the wreckage, covered with dust and brightly coloured spices, but alive. Flavian rushed up to him and squeezed his arm tightly, afraid if he embraced him he might never let go. Mordecai smiled and reassured Flavian that he was okay, but suggested that they return quickly to the Castle because the paprika was making him sneeze.
Although Mordecai had emerged unscathed, ready to laugh the whole thing off, Flavian couldn’t forget his feeling of absolute dread when he had thought the other man might be dead. Imagine if he had died, and Flavian had never told him what he felt for him - how much he loved him. But would Mordecai ever feel the same way about him?
The Conservatory was Flavian’s favourite spot in the Castle, the next day after breakfast he went there to read for a while before he needed to meet the others for work. He had slept badly after the previous day’s trials. He wanted to concentrate but the humid air and the slight buzz of insects soon made him sleepy. He could feel his eyes slowly closing, and the novel he was holding in his hand seemed suddenly heavy.
“Flavian?”
Jolted suddenly awake, Flavian heard the thump as the hardback volume fell from his hands and hit the ground. He turned his head to find Mordecai just steps away, smiling as he placed the book gently on the side-table.
“Oh, it’s you.” Flavian was caught off-guard. He sat up, running his fingers through his hair in an effort to look more presentable.
“Yes, when you didn’t show up for work I had to come looking for you. I knew you might be here.”
“We’d better get going then.” Flavian stood and moved towards the door, but Mordecai seemed reluctant to leave the conservatory.
“Flavian…”
Flavian stilled. “Yes, Mordecai?”
“I don’t know what I need to do to be friends with you again.”
Flavian’s eyes opened wide. It was what he had wanted to hear - well, at least it was a step in the right direction… but it all seemed so difficult. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, his brain still fuzzy from sleep.
“Friends?”
Mordecai nodded.
“Do you think we can be friends? After everything that happened?”
“I didn’t… Flavian, the Dright forced me to work with the Wraith, and I know I did some terrible things, but I did my best never to hurt you, or anyone from the Castle.” Mordecai spoke earnestly, his eyes pleading.
Flavian found himself trying to explain.
"It's just - when you came back through the Pentagram, you went straight to Rosalie. I thought I was your best friend, I thought you'd come to me and ask for forgiveness."
His voice wobbled. He expected Mordecai to laugh, or possibly even leave. When that didn't happen, he risked a glance up. Mordecai was chewing on his bottom lip, a concerned look on his face, and realisation. The late morning sun shone through the glass, illuminating his curly brown hair and dark skin, so that he was almost glowing. Flavian thought he'd never looked more beautiful.
"It's just that..." began Mordecai. He sighed and started again "I never intended..." His voice trailed off. Then, as if he could tell that Flavian was about to bolt from the room, he continued with a stronger voice. “Flavian, Rosalie was only ever a friend. She… she knew I didn’t have a soul.”
“You told her?”
“No, she guessed. All the times she was there when I was spirit travelling - she worked out that something was wrong with me, something missing.” He swallowed, then spoke carefully. “Having a soul again - it was like watching myself reflected in a mirror. I kept getting confused between left and right, and it took me a long time to work out whether what I felt was real.”
Flavian found himself nodding. “I don’t know how you did it, living without a soul for so long.” It was true, the feeling of being not-quite-himself was bearable while spirit travelling, but the thought of what Mordecai had endured for so long horrified him. The men exchanged a look of understanding and sympathy.
Flavian cleared his throat. “Amy will be waiting, we’d better go.”
They walked up to the small room they used for spirit travelling. It was similar to the room in the London flat; it had the same warm cosiness, and the same slightly over-crowded feeling that came from having too many chairs. Flavian apologised to Amy for being so late, she laughed and teased him about being old enough to need a morning nap. Mordecai lit the candles on the mantelpiece and then everything was ready. Their mission was relatively straightforward, an Enchanter from this World was smuggling in eternal fire from Series Ten, and they needed to stop him. Flavian closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, to make sure he was thinking clearly. When he looked up he found Mordecai gazing straight at him; they were so close he could see the little flecks of gold dotting his warm hazel eyes. His heart jumped in his chest. How had Flavian let his friendship with Mordecai get so broken, when he cared about him so much? Would Mordecai give him a second chance?
Amy started playing, and Mordecai held out his hand to Flavian as he always had before. Flavian hesitated - could he go on pretending that being friends would be enough, or should he risk everything and try for more? The moment went on for too long, and as Mordecai's hand wavered, Flavian made his decision. He reached out and cupped his hand round Mordecai’s chin, pale fingers against dark skin, and drew the other man to him, lips meeting lips. He felt Mordecai freeze for a moment in disbelief, then the other man's eyes fluttered closed and he opened his mouth to let Flavian inside. Flavian’s hand reached up and tangled in Mordecai’s curly hair, pressing them even closer, and he wasn’t sure if the wetness he felt on his face was rain from the Place Between or his tears.
Flavian opened his eyes. He felt the brush of lashes on his cheek as the other man drew away, staring back at him. Mordecai’s face was so pale Flavian half expected to see through him to the jagged grey rocks of the valley behind.
Mordecai reached up his hand to touch his mouth.
“Flavian?” His voice was curious, almost awed.
Flavian blushed. “I don’t… you don’t…” He stumbled to a halt.
Mordecai gave him a wry smile. “Flavian - come here.” He leaned forward and this time he controlled the kiss, his mouth warm against Flavian’s, his arms wrapped around his waist holding them close together.
This time when they drew apart, both men were smiling. Flavian took a breath, and looked straight into Mordecai’s eyes.
“Mordecai, I’m sorry… for not trusting you, and… and everything.”
Mordecai shook his head. “I’m sorry for not telling you how I felt a long time ago. But you understand why I couldn’t, when I didn’t have my soul...”
Flavian nodded. “I do now.” Mordecai smiled at him, warm, affectionate. Flavian could feel the memory of the two kisses, still warm on his lips, and he tilted his head closer to claim a third. The next kiss was longer, more insistent, and Flavian pulled away reluctantly. This was real, and he wanted it to happen in the real world, not here.
“Well. I suppose we should go and find that evil Enchanter … and continue this back at the Castle?”
Mordecai laughed and nodded in agreement. Flavian felt his heart expand as all the feelings he had been suppressing broke free. The two men started to climb down the valley which led to Series Ten, and to Flavian the World Edge seemed brighter and larger than it ever had before.
Flavian felt the now-familiar jolt as his spirit returned to his body; next to him Mordecai was stretching out his legs to get rid of the pins and needles. They said their goodbyes to Amy and went in search of Christopher to let him know they had been successful in their mission.
Once in the corridor the two men got swept up in a crowd of people, all heading to the drawing room where there seemed to be some sort of party happening. Flavian went in search of Christopher, while Mordecai volunteered to find food for them both.
“Did everything go well?” Christopher asked mildly once Flavian had found him.
Flavian couldn’t help blushing. “Oh yes, actually very well. I think. Well. We stopped the Enchanter, anyway.” He managed to stop babbling, but he could feel that his face was bright red.
“Mmmm. Good.” Christopher stared at him, his vague look at its most blandly intense. Flavian blushed again, then left in search of Mordecai.
By now the room was so full that Flavian had to fight to get through. He was stopped several times to be introduced to visitors, the clamour of conversation making it hard to hear. He had to keep avoiding the waiters circulating with food, but after a near collision with a plate of devilled eggs he managed to push through the crowd and he spotted Mordecai exiting the drawing room. Flavian found him out in the less crowded Castle entranceway, leaning nonchalantly against the base of the grand staircase. An overloaded plate of food was balanced on one hand, there seemed to have been an actual collision between a devilled egg and a chocolate eclair. Flavian smiled, impressed by Mordecai’s unruffled look when he knew he must look like he’d been dragged through a hedge.
Mordecai leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Had enough of the party? Let’s go upstairs.”
Flavian nodded. Mordecai held out his free hand and Flavian took it, and they walked up the stairs fingers entwined tightly together.
When Flavian woke up the next morning, he could feel the warmth of the sun on his back and he felt disoriented - his bedroom didn’t face east? And… he didn’t sleep naked! He opened his eyes and remembered everything as he gazed on Mordecai, tangled in a sheet next to him on the bed, sun-warmed limbs poking out from under the crisp white cotton. His sharp intake of breath woke the other man.
“Morning.” Mordecai smiled tentatively at him. Flavian could see the worry lines on his forehead crease, and without thinking too much, leant across to kiss them smooth.
“Morning.”
Mordecai’s smile instantly brightened, his face positively glowing.
“So… no regrets?”
“None at all.” replied Flavian. “You?”
“No, of course not. But… we mustn't tell anyone."
"Christopher."
"We mustn't tell Christopher?"
"He - he already knows. Knew. I didn't tell him, but he must have noticed something."
“Ah. Well, in fact, Rosalie knows too. She’s always known how I felt about you.”
“And Amy. She was there when I…” Flavian stopped and blushed.
“When you what?” Mordecai’s mouth gave a definite twitch.
“When I kissed you.” His face grew even hotter, and he slapped Mordecai lightly on the arm. “Stop laughing at me!”
Mordecai kept laughing, loud happy laughter, as he pulled Flavian closer and covered his face with wet kisses.
“Well then, since it sounds like most of the Castle knows already, there’s no point in keeping it a secret!”
“All right.” grumbled Flavian, pretending to be unhappy. “But you can be the one to tell Gabriel.”