Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between the characters in this story and real people (appearances, names, etc.) are purely coincidental. This story may contain homosexual material, including love and sex, so if material like this is illegal in your region or if it discomforts you, please leave.
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Mark Lillico looked to the top right corner of his computer screen for the time. 8:19pm. He sighed, but resumed typing minutes from his boss' quarterly meeting. He understood why Evelyn Reigal requested meeting minutes taken independently from the company secretary, but he didn't have to like it.
About forty minutes later saw Mark stepping out of the elevator and bidding the security guards a nice night. Upon exiting the building he noticed the familiar navy blue BMW i4 Grand Coupe parked near the hand rail at the bottom of the staircase.
A familiar head of light brown hair stepped out of the driver's side door. Ulysses Hamish placed his forearms on the roof of his car and flashed Mark a dazzling smile. Mark smiled back in utter surprise and happiness, and blushed at the level of giddiness that was brought on by the sight of his boyfriend.
"Good evening, beautiful," Ulysses greeted.
"Uly," Mark replied with adoration.
Ulysses shrugged his shoulders casually and stated, "I wanted to fall asleep with you in my arms."
Blushing even harder, Mark cooed, "Ohhh, baby!"
Ulysses chuckled, and said, "Just get in the car."
After both young men sat in the vehicle they leaned in and gave each other a sweet peck on the lips. During the car ride to Mark's apartment, Mark apologized for being so busy with work that he hadn't had the time or energy to hang out with Ulysses. Ulysses, having already grasped Mark's hand in affection, simply kissed Mark's knuckles.
Entering Mark's apartment, Ulysses asked what the raven-haired young man wanted for dinner.
"You don't have to cook, baby," Mark refuted.
"But I want to."
"Okay," Mark relented, and planted a kiss to his boyfriend's jaw. "Well I guess I wouldn't mind a chicken stir fry."
While Ulysses chopped vegetables he recanted to Mark about his last few days at work as a peace officer. He spoke of minor disturbances, situations he found hilarious, and even some youth volunteers doing a wonderful job with their cause.
Mark gazed at the brunette who was seasoning the pan of chicken and veggies. In his heart he felt the warmth and affection and adoration. Ulysses was beautiful, his green eyes shone and sparkled, his hands portrayed patience, his arms grace.
"I love you," Mark confessed with no small amount of courage.
Ulysses froze for a half second. He turned his head and looked at Mark. Mark smiled, no fear, only confidence.
"I do," Mark carried on. "Uly, I love you. I don't expect you to say it back or even feel the same way. You- you just- I feel cared for, like I'm beautiful. Like I'm wanted and desired. And when I look at you, I want to protect you. I want you to feel like you matter. I want you to feel like you belong, like you have a place. Because--"
"Mark," Ulysses said quietly, seriously, and placed his hands on either side of Mark's neck. "Mark. You- I--"
"It's okay," Mark assured the brunette. "We're not in the same place in this relationship and that's okay. You may never get there, and I understand. I still--"
Ulysses quickly cut in, "No, no, it's not that. Baby, it's not that. But there's- Mark, I'm a..."
Mark gazed deeply into his boyfriend's reddened and teary eyes, worry taking over his face. Mark reached up to Ulysses' hands which were still on his neck, and held them in comfort.
Broken with anxiety, Ulysses said, "Mark, I'm a witch."
Mark was shocked. And then disbelieving. And then hurt.
"Ulysses..."
"No," Ulysses stated firmly. "No. I am. I'm a witch."
Holding Mark's gaze, Ulysses reached his left hand behind his back and slowly waved his fingers down. The switch for the burner frying the food turned counterclockwise until it clicked to Off.
Ulysses quickly explained, "Before I could say it back, I had to confess that. I am a witch."
Still in shock and disbelief, Mark replied, "But- you- that was fake right? You have some- some invisible wire attached to- to your wrist. Right?"
Ulysses sighed softly before he answered, "No, Mark. I really am a witch."
"Wait," Mark said quietly. "Wait, wait, wait. A witch? You're a witch? Sh- show me. Do something else."
Ulysses wiped a single tear from his cheek before he turned around and grabbed one of the two black square plates off the counter. He held the plate at shoulder height, and then dropped it. The plate shattered, which startled Mark, who jumped to the side.
"Uly!" Mark shouted.
"Wait."
Ulysses pointed his palm at the black shards of cermanic, which rose into the air. Two of the shards flung to each other like magnets, sealing together as if one. Then four more shards sealed to that. Then ten more. Eventually, the plate was whole again, as if nothing had ever happened to it.
Shocked, Mark whispered more to himself, "You're a witch."
"I am," Ulysses responded quietly, unsurely.
"I-" Mark began while reaching for the plate floating in the air. "I think- I think I need some time."
"Yeah," Ulysses agreed with a broken smile and teary eyes. "Yeah. Of course. Yeah. I'll just- uhh..."
Ulysses gave Mark's neck a gentle squeeze with his left hand, and planted a kiss to his temple before he walked toward the apartment door.
Mark stood there in the kitchen, shellshocked and in disbelief. He didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do.
"Mark?" Ulysses called with worry. "I love you." **** The day after was a Friday, and Mark took an Uber to work having slept in a little and didn't have adequate time to catch the bus.
At his desk Mark turned on his computer and then went into Evelyn's office. It was nearly eight-thirty in the morning and Mark knew that Evelyn would be arriving any minute so he ground some espresso beans. Mark had been cleaning the espresso machine steam wand after steaming skim milk when Evelyn walked into her office.
"Hello Markus," Evelyn greeted warmly. "The meeting minutes you'd emailed last night looked great, thank you."
"Of course, Evelyn," Mark responded as he poured the foamy milk into the mug of espresso. "Kayla down in marketing emailed me this morning to ask if you'd have a minute. She's expecting you in ten. Mr. Meloti needs your signatures on some documents on the iPad, they're just stuff from last week's executive meeting so no rush. Finance has some proposals for quotes from various companies for the company banquet. And last but not least, Irina our bicycle courier has given her notice. She's moving in three months so we have loads of time to look for a replacement."
After sipping her fresh cappuccino, Evelyn thanked the young man. "Do you have another bicycle courier in mind?"
Mark nodded and answered, "Absolutely. His name is Emmanual but he prefers Manny. He's a New Mexico native but has been living here for nearly a year. His fees are slightly higher than Irina's but from what I've heard, worth it."
"Good," Evelyn said as she read an email. "Good. Can you call Barry's office and confirm dinner? Also, something's been bugging me since last night's quarterly so can you get me the minutes from that meeting?" **** It had been four days since Ulysses had turned Mark's world upside down when Mark finally dialled the witch's cell phone. Mark sat at his kitchen island with his phone in his hand. He'd spent nearly fifteen minutes contemplating the decision when he finally made it and opened Ulysses' contact card.
"Mark," Ulysses answered the call, his voice laced with excitement and nerves. "Hi. How are--"
"Is teleporting a thing you can do?" Mark was quick to cut off the other man.
"I--" Ulysses responded with shock and pain. "I- yeah. Yeah. I can- I can teleport. Would you like me there?"
"Yes," Mark answered simply, and ended the call.
Before Mark could even think about lying his cell phone down on the island, he heard the familiar clack of dress shoes stepping on his hardwood floors behind him. He turned. Ulysses stood there, his gaze hesitant, his hands in his pant pockets.
Mark went right to brass tax by stating, "So I've decided that I would like to continue to kiss you every single day."
Ulysses began to smile with utter joy and relief, but he quickly caught it. He leaned on one leg, jutting his hip out.
"Just kissing?" Ulysses asked, teasing.
Mark smiled back while he replied, "Yes. Just kissing. I don't want any of those messy, sticky feelings. Ew."
Ulysses laughed with a tear forming in his eye. He stepped closer to Mark with his arms raising. Mark welcomed the embrace, nuzzling the side of his face into Ulysses' chest and held him tightly.
Ulysses kissed the top of Mark's head before he stated, "We still have to talk."
Mark sighed lightly and responded, "About you? Being a witch?"
"That'd be it."
"Well... we don't have to. I mean, I can pretend that you didn't tell me. Every time you do something supernatural I can just chalk it up to me going insane. People would believe that anyway."
Ulysses lightly tapped Mark's back and chided, "Markus Jeffrey Lillico."
Mark smiled into the witch's chest and apologized. "So how old were you when you found out you were a witch? Or how does that work?"
As he answered, Ulysses sat on the other island stoool. "As infants we see our parents performing witchcraft, so we grow with it being instinctual. Our parents teach us what they think we can handle as toddlers. As with any non-magical children, each individual has different levels of skill and finesse. Our parents usually know what toddlers can be taught and when to wait.
"For example; my mother taught me invisible barriers at age three."
"Invisible barriers?!" Mark exclaimed in shock.
"Oh yes," Ulysses confirmed with a small smile. "My father taught me cellular growth and regeneration at age five. At--"
"Waitwaitwaitwait!" Mark said with a laugh of awe. "Cellular growth... as in--"
"Yes," Ulysses said with a slow nod of his head. "Expansion and healing. But there has to be a foundation, I can't create something out of nothing."
Ulysses grabbed Mark's letter opening from beside the human and stabbed his own forearm. Mark yelped in surprise and fear, but the wound was already healing rapidly. Mark watched as his boyfriend wiped the blood from his skin, and awed at the sight of the unblemished surface.
Mark gently touched the previously wounded arm and whispered, "Uly."
"Want to see something even more amazing?"
Ulysses did not wait for a response. He raised his left hand, palm heavenward, and a peach appeared. Ulysses cut the fruit around, and twisted it until it halved. He removed the pit from one half and held it in his open palm.
"Watch," Ulysses said quietly, excitement evident in his voice.
Mark kept his green eyes trained on the peach pit, not sure what to expect. He watched, and he watched. It seemed that nothing was happening to the pit. It remained in Ulysses' hand, unmoving, unchanging.
Or was it?. Mark thought that the pit looked to be slightly larger, and a lighter shade of brown. He became astonished, flabbergasted. Mark didn't know what to think, let alone say. He sat there, watching as the growth of the pit increased rapidly.
Before Mark knew it, there was a stump about seventeen centimetres in Ulysses' hand, and wispy roots dangled over his palm and between his fingers.
"There you have it," Ulysses declared quietly. "Cellular generation."
Astonished beyond anything he'd ever experienced before in his young life, Mark whispered, "Uly."
Mark reached out and touched the stump. The surface felt softer than a peach pit but harder than wood. It was bumpy yet almost flat.
"Say goodbye to Mr. Stumpy," Ulysses said with mirth.
Mark removed his hand from the stump and was about to ask Ulysses what he was going to do. Ulysses suddenly swept his arm sideways, which made the stump careen through the air. And it was as if the stump hit a sort of barrier that destroyed anything that touched it, for the stump looked to shred into nothing but ash that fell to the floor.
Ulysses then grabbed Mark's hand and kissed his cheek. Ulysses next kissed Mark's temple, and kept his chin against Mark's hair.
"Thank you, Mark," Ulysses said reverently, sincerely. "For trusting me. For loving me. I feel so free now. I can stop hiding from you. You can now be a part of my world if you wish."
"What is that?" Mark asked quietly, full of wonder and intrigue. "What is your world?"
Ulysses planted another kiss to Mark's temple before he answered, "So I really am a peace officer. For the magical community. The force's original name is Egil Lukaro, which translates to Lukaro's Guard. Lukaro was the leader of the magical community five thousand years ago. Thanks to her, the community has a majority of the laws that we abide by to this day, including the mandate that non-magical folk are to remain unknowing unless they marry into the community.
"So anyway, not every magical practitioner was happy about her laws and views, so many attempts were made on her life. Her husband Janvos assembled a group of some of the most powerful practitioners, whom he trusted absolutely, to help protect our queen Lukaro.
"That was five thousand years ago. Queen Lukaro has long since past but the name Egil Lukaro stuck. A large majority of the community speaks English now, so Egil Lukaro is now shortened to just The Guard."
"And you're in The Guard," Mark said, allowing his brain to process all of that information. "What's your rank or whatever?"
"There are really no ranks in The Guard. We have... I guess you would call him a commander. Isak Nilsson is our commander. He gets reports from all over the world, he communicates with our teams on the countries experiencing conflict, and relays what he wants done. We do what he requests, and report back to him."
"How does he communicate with you?" Mark asked, intrigued. "Telepathy or something?"
"No," Ulysses laughed. "No. There are a few telepaths in the world, but I can count them all on one hand. Telepathy is a very rare skill to be realized and developed, the weakest of them only being able to see impressions of thoughts or intentions.
"Isak calls our cell phones. But commanders of yesteryear contacted The Guard using coins with Lukaro's profile. When the commander wanted you to project to them, your coin vibrated until the commander made it stop, which only happened when you projected."
"Projected?"
Ulysses nodded his head, then leaned back against the stool back and closed his eyes.
All of a sudden, Ulysses' voice on Mark's left said, "I'm right here."
Mark nearly jumped out of his skin. Ulysses stood there, smiling. A different Ulysses was also was leaning against the stool, seemingly unconscious.
When Mark looked back up to the standing Ulysses, that Ulysses simply stated, "Projection."
The unconscious Ulysses slowly sat up, which slightly startled Mark again.
"Oh, my god," Mark bemoaned. "Stop. This is so fucked up. Stop."
The standing Ulysses dissipated into nothing, leaving the sitting Ulysses, whom reached out and grabbed Mark's hand.
Mark continued his questioning, "Okay, okay, so what drove you to become a Guard?"
Ulysses shrugged and replied, "I guess it was a desire to help other witches in danger, try to prevent crime. It was an easy decision at the time, and being a competent practitioner contributed to that. You see, to be considered for The Guard, you are put through a series of magical tests and obstacles. I passed, nearly meeting the speed record set by Uimed over twenty-one hundred years ago."
"Wow. So you're one of the most powerful witches in the world?"
Ulysses shook his head, "Yes, but that's only because I've had so much time to perfect my magical repertoire. The tests are a combination of skill and intelligence. One would not be a part of The Guard with just one of those. You need both. Our leader is always the most powerful practitioner in the world. There's no election. It is decided via magical battle. Should one feel that they can challenge the leader, king or queen, they can. The magistrate sets a date that the duel is to commence. The king or queen at the time almost never concedes to the challenger, there's a reason that they are called the most powerful. In the last four thousand nine hundred sixteen years, the leader has conceded twice. They did so with grace and admiration of the successor."
"And- and how's the transition between leaders? And how does the- the magical community feel about new leaders?"
Ulysses giggled at the enthusiasm Mark portrayed, and answered, "The former leader sits by their successor's side for the first two or three weeks, just until the new leader feels that they can successfully govern without their guidance.
"As for the community, there has never been apprehension about new leaders or misgivings. We put our whole trust in the new king or queen because should there be a great threat to the world, magical or not, they are expected to do every single thing they can to neutralize the threat. We revere the new leader without question, have respect for them. But that reverence and respect is reflected back. The magical community does not take kindly to selfish or unjust leadership."
Awed beyond anything he'd experienced before, Mark stated, "That- that sounds too good to be true. Incorruptible leaders, respectful citizens."
"As with any other society, there are bad eggs. We do have The Guard for a reason, after all."
"Okay. So who is your king or queen right now?"
"That would be Queen Sofi Bauer of Austria. She's twenty-nine-years-old now, but she became queen at age seventeen."
"Seventeen?! Is there no age limit for leadership?"
"Not officially, no. Our leaders are advised by their regent always. Should one require a vacation, the other has no choice but to rest for that time as well. These vacations are always decided upon months and months in advance."
"Interesting," Mark said. "Who decides whom the queen's regent will be?"
"Nobody," Ulysses answered, and then sighed. "The regent has been the same person for the past four thousand, seven hundred thirty-five years."
"Four thou- What?! Is immortality another thing your society has discovered?"
"There is a witch who has lived for over nine thousand years. In her youth she was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Her people were in awe of her abilities and intelligence, but most importantly her humility and kindness. In her experimentation she discovered cellular constance, making organisms and objects unable to change. Five seasons later, she successfully applied such magicks to her body. She does not age. She does not sleep. She requires no sustenance."
"No way," Mark whispered. "No way. There's no- that's impossible."
"You thought the same of witches last week. Yet here I sit."
"Okay. So who is this witch?"
"You- she-" Ulysses began nervously. "You've met her. Her name is Kiri."
"Kiri," Mark repeated, awed quiet. "Your sister Kiri. That Kiri?!"
Ulysses nodded his head and answered, "The very same."
"She's nine-thousand-years-old?!"
"Yes."
"That is- wait. Wait wait wait wait. How- how old are you? Do I wanna know?"
"Would you like to know?" Ulysses asked with a tinge of humour in his voice.
"...Yes."
"I was born in fifteen-fifty-seven," Ulysses responded. "Which makes me--"
"Six hundred, sixty-three."
"Almost. My birthday has not yet passed this year."
"You're-" Mark began, almost breathless. "You're over six centuries old."
"I am," Ulysses said cautiously. "How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know. I just- I don't know how I feel. About all of this. This is all so much. How does one not explode with so much information? Especially regarding such- such impossible things?"
"It's okay not to know how to feel," Ulysses comforted his love by pulling him into a sweet embrace and planting a tender kiss to his temple. "Take all the time you need. I am right here, and will continue to be here. I will wait. I will soothe you. Whatever you wish, Markus Jeffrey."
Mark giggled and complained, "You know I hate it when you use my middle name."
"I know. Where I come from, names are important. Names have meaning."
"Mm," Mark acknowledged. "That didn't even occur to me. I'm sorry, baby."
"There is nothing to apologize for," Ulysses brushed him off. "You seem exhausted. Shall I carry you to bed?"
"Sure."
So Ulysses did. He slid his right arm under Mark's legs and other under Mark's shoulder blades. Ulysses easily lifted Mark and strode toward the staircase.
"Another question," Mark stated, almost sleepily. "Is superhuman strength another one of your talents? Or are your muscles aided by magic? How do you carry me so easily?"
"You wound me," Ulysses teased. "No. These muscles are all me. I have been using and training my muscles for six hundred, thirty-eight years."
"Mmm," Mark sleepily acknowledged, and kissed Ulysses' neck.
I hope that you are enjoying this series so far. I have been working on this series for about two years, it is so new to me. Listed below are my other works of fiction if you are interested.
Car Radio
Connected
Do Not Go Gentle
Near Wild Heaven
The Other Half of Me Unknown
A Quick Fall
Some You Give Away
Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
Strawberry Wine
Tearing Me Apart
You Call It Madness
You Don't Mean to Hurt Me