The Brotherhood - Believe It Or Not Part 2

The dreams again.

Just dreams. Only dreams.

They couldn't hurt him. He was safe in his bedroom. The last of the evening's light trickled in through neatly aligned blinds on curtainless windows, casting comfortably familiar shadows. Safe. Alone. Safe.

He'd been sleeping, taking a quick nap after work, that was all.

Nothing but sleeping.

G.o.d, he had to get out of the Brotherhood. Ever since he'd joined the group his lawyer Simon had founded, the dreamsHarrison 's therapist had promised were purged from his system had come back, getting stronger and stronger every night. These dreams were pure rubbish, as were all dreams. Merely the mind's way of processing a day's events. Still, he knew he'd be much more comfortable once he and the Brothers had parted ways.

Harrisonwouldn't have involved himself with the Brothers if not for a certain unpleasantness a little more than a year back. Besides being a well-respected lecturer in sociology and cultural anthropology despite his young age -- not much more than thirty -- he was also the author of several books that disproved everything from myths to holy texts, to urban legends, to all types of so-called magic.

He tended to make a surprising amount of enemies among his readers. Enemies who often tried to pa.s.s as friends.Harrison was usually clever enough to sort liars from honest men and women, but Shoshanna, who had posed as an eager fan, had fooled him. d.a.m.ned female. She'd had the gumption to give a "tell-all" interview in which she'd claimed he had faked the evidence in every one of his books -- and then named him as the father of her child, insisting he had threatened her into his bed.

Harrisonsnorted. As if after Oliver's betrayal he'd have trusted anyone enough to sleep with them. Not that he'd told her any of that, of course.

Well, he couldn't bring Oliver to justice. Proving Shoshanna to be a liar, however, had been incredibly satisfying.

The shock on her face whenHarrison had ended up in a witness stand and calmly p.r.o.nounced "I'm gay"

had almost been worth the whole ordeal. He'd found men from the Oliver years who'd vouched for his s.e.xual preferences and other folks of more recent acquaintance who had shaken their heads over Shoshanna and said under oath that she'd tried this sort of thing before.DNA testing had provenHarrison innocent, and that had been the end of that.

He'd gotten away nice and clean. Clean, that was, except for his highly respected lawyer's request -- more like a command -- that after what Harrison had been through, he should join the self-help group, the Brotherhood, that Simon had formed for gay men.

Harrisonhad considered ignoring Simon's invitation. For one, he hadn't felt like meeting any new people; after the victorious but ultimately draining ordeal with Shoshanna,Harrison had wanted to be left alone.

Ergo, he hadn't much cared about being part of a support group. No, he hadn't wanted a bunch of strangers' so-called support.

Besides which, the other Brothers were out-and-out messes. Gratingly brash punks, mincing queens, horrifying flirts -- and then there was Liam.Harrison didn't even want to start thinking about the small man. The little twit put his nerves on a razor's edge every time they met. Always so smug, as if he knew something no one else did and wasn't going to share. More, Liam always seemed to find new ways to get them all in trouble. Case in point: tonight's visit to a dance club. There were places whereHarrison felt comfortable, but a techno-heavy, strobe-lit dance floor? No, no, and no again. The idea made him feel ridiculous and clumsy, bad habits he'd never grown out of and tried his best to hide.

He'd voted against going but had been outvoted. So he'd agreed. Stupid move, butHarrison always kept his word once he gave it.

Sighing, he glanced at his watch, a chunky, plastic, utilitarian model bought for accuracy instead of style.

Seven? d.a.m.n, I was only going to close my eyes for thirty minutes. Should I shower and shave again? Probably.

Oh, well. Thereareworse ways to spend an evening .

"Meow."

A cold nose thrust itself into the crease ofHarrison 's groin. He yelped, startled, and scrambled back, away from the pert, pet.i.te black cat that had seated herself on his bed. She sat calmly, as if she had every right to be there, regarding him with uncannily intelligent green eyes. A cat that did not and had never belonged to him, but one he knew all too well. Somehow, she'd managed to find her way inside his house at least once a day, every single day, for the past two or three weeks.

Harrisonwasn't a big fan of cats. He made a living out of debunking superst.i.tions and such, but the look in a cat's eyes never failed to creep him out. If he ever decided to take the time for a pet, he'd buy a dog. Maybe goldfish.

"How did you get in here again? The windows are locked. The doors are locked. The mail slot is bolted shut. And why am I talking to you like you can understand me?"

The cat purred smugly.

"Out,"Harrison ordered, pointing to the door of his bedroom.

She twisted around to lick her shoulder beneath her studded collar.

Oh, no, he wasn't going to take that.Harrison had read up on animal behavior, and he knew what she was doing -- the equivalent of flipping him the finger.

"Think you're smart, don't you?"Harrison picked up the cat, who snuggled, self-satisfied, into his arms, and carried her out to his front door. Depositing said feline on his steps, he put his hands on his hips.

"This time, stay out."

The cat hissed at him. Flicking her tail up, she strolled away as if she had much better things to do anyway, and he could go screw himself.

Harrisonshook his head as he watched the pest disappear into theCharleston night. Honestly. With her studded collar, the feline clearly belonged to someone, so why had she decided to annoy him? And how did she manage her reverse Houdini act?

She was a puzzle, but at the moment he didn't have time to ponder the mystery of the cat.Harrisonchecked his watch.Better get moving .

Harrisonshowered, shaved, and dressed, absently thinking about how he could possibly use this whole club experience as the start of a paper on gay-circuit party hangouts. That could definitely be interesting.

With that in mind, once he was clothedHarrison headed for the small room he'd set up as a home office, filled with computers, filing cabinets, and bookshelves with systematically arranged periodicals. The walls were painted stark white and the carpet utilitarian gray. He kept his ergonomic desk neat as a pin and the rest of the room just as organized.

Microca.s.sette recorder? No. People were often wary when it came to having their voices captured on tape and became extra touchy; they didn't seem to dare chance anyone knowing about their presence at a gay club. He nodded decisively. A small notebook and a pencil would be better; if nothing else, he could jot down notes in private moments.

Should he give his e-mail a quick check before he headed out? Probably.

Since he'd never made a secret of how to be contacted,Harrison usually received e-mail by the boatload. Hate letters, fan letters, and correspondence from colleagues. He always took care of business first, but if he had time afterward he liked reading the poison pen letters. The latter were usually much more interesting than the ones filled with praise.

One such critical writer, who called himself "Martin," had piquedHarrison 's interest enough to write the man back. Highly intelligent, the man constantly challengedHarrison over one issue or another. Martin swore up and down, blind and sideways, by G.o.d, G.o.ddess, a pantheon of other deities, and Gaia that he was an honest-to-whatever Magician, capital "M."

Harrisonfigured Martin was more likely either a canny liar or a highly functional schizophrenic. Although they were firmly planted on opposite sides of the fence,Harrison loved sc.r.a.pping with Martin.

He grinned when he saw there was a note waiting from his "nemesis" in his in-box, along with a flashing icon that indicated Martin was online at the moment.

Harrison, You really should be spanked. I had to hear it through the grapevine that you're going to Amour Magique tonight? I didn't think that was your style, darling, but what a lucky coincidence -- I'll be there, too.

Don't get spooked, sweetheart!

Trust me, I'm not stalking you (much). I'm just dying to talk to you in person and see you all dolled up. I'll bet you look good enough to gobble when you put on the Ritz. Lord knows you look good enough to lick anyway. (I bought your last hardback with the frontispiece, remember? I know what you look like but you don't know me, la, la, la....) I'll wear a sorcerer's pointy hat so you'll know who I am. Not. Kisses!

-- Martin

Harrisonwas torn between chuckling and scowling. Martin, also gay, was possibly the most outrageous flirt he'd ever dealt with -- and given that he knew Alex, the Brother who was a former male escort, and Liam, that was saying something. Martin's teasing was flattering, certainly, but it madeHarrison feel uncomfortably wary. So what did he do? Come right back with phrases from the stuffed-shirt lexicon.

Martin, Of course I intend to attend the club. I've promised the support group I'll be there. I look forward to meeting you. Perhaps I might interview you, if you would permit that. However, I must remind you that I have always denied -- and always will deny -- your requests for a more intimate relationship. Please keep this in mind during future correspondence.

--Harrison

He'd barely clicked "send" before a new message popped up.

Harrison, Interview me? Any time, lovely.

But really, though, you're so pompous in e-mail. You've got to be livelier in person. If not, we'll work on pulling the big old stick out of your a.s.s. I can think of other, more interesting things to put in its place... perhaps we could run a few field experiments tonight after sharing a whiskey and a tango or two?

And yes, I pay attention to what you say. I always have. I hear you fine -- I just don't listen. It's much more fun this way.

-- Martin

Harrisonrolled his eyes.

Martin, Please understand that it isnotmy intention to make a fool of myself by either dancing or drinking. And for the last time, stop propositioning me. I am not interested. How clear do I have to be about this?

--Harrison

Martin tried to instant message him.Harrison denied the request and waited for the letter which, inevitably, arrived.

Harrison, Now that was cold, rude, and uncalled for. You're lucky I'm too smitten to stay mad at you (wink, wink). I have a long way to go to warm you up, don't I? But yes, yes, don't flirt, I know the drill.

(It won't stop me from imagining you all I want, though; I know what you look like, and I can imagine that sensual mouth wrapped around my... well... all I like. So there.) Now, darling, here's a secret for you. I'm not just visiting Amour Magique. I live there. I'm on staff (Magician joke).

I happen to know that you'll be coming along with Bree, Collin, Simon, Micah, Quentin, David, Laurence, Christian, Alex, Allen, and Liam -- all of whom you have been oh-so-careful not to mention.

Now ask yourself: how did I know that?

The answer is simple, lovely: magic.

-- Martin

He knew the Brotherhood and the names of its members? How?Harrison had never let the information slip. Martin had to have been snooping inHarrison 's personal life to know anything like this.

d.a.m.n him!Harrison mentally scuttled back like a hermit crab into its sh.e.l.l and hastily typed:

Martin, Apparently, you've not only not confined yourself to e-mails that cross the borders of s.e.xual hara.s.sment, but you have also been stalking me. I will meet with you tonight as we agreed, but after that I do not want to hear from you again unless I see fit to contact you with regard to a research study. Any attempts at initiating future communication on your part will be forwarded to the police.

--Harrison Harrisonsighed. He hated doing things like this, but he wouldn't stand for someone prying into his life.

Too bad. He thought he might miss Martin.

Ping!

A new message popped up. No subject line, but it had Martin's e-mail address.Harrison frowned as he opened the note.

Harrison, You would be wise to think twice before attempting to browbeat me. I have enjoyed playing the silly flirt because it amused me; however, I believe you underestimate what matter of man I am. I ama Magician, Harrison, a genuine Magician, no matter how you choose to lie to yourself about the supernatural. Iam entrusted with the magic that keeps Amour Magique running.

Amour Magique is far more than any silly dance club. If you remove your blinders for a moment when you enter, youmaysee for yourself; I doubt you will, though, as you remain so stubbornly closed to every sc.r.a.p of magic in the world.

I have decided that, aside from taking you in any manner I see fit, I will also bring you face-to-face with enchantments that you cannot deny, and then I'll demand the truth: do you believe, or do you not?

I wonder how you will answer.

But as to the other, make no mistake,Harrison, I do mean to have you. I have l.u.s.ted after you for no small time now. Although you bl.u.s.ter and bluff about disdaining me, I can read men's hearts. I know you want me. I say this with no conceit; I simply state a fact.

We will light Amour Magique ablaze tonight. Yes, tonight.

To meet me, go through the main entrance and look for a statue of Bastet (I trust you know who she is). Her pedestal blocks a service hallway. Pa.s.s the statue and follow the trail I lay out for you.

Youwillcome .

You don't want to make me angry,Harrison. I will take a great deal for the sake of entertainment, but you can only push me so far.

Now, you are quite piqued after reading this, aren't you? So: forget. Get up from your computer, finish dressing -- don't forget to make sure your socks match -- and come to the club knowing only this: above all else, you are there to meet me along the Bastet path. Youmustmeet me, though h.e.l.l itself should bar the way.

Oh, and to hurry things along a bit, you will be fully aware of the attraction between us. Indeed,as you come to meet me, you will burn and shiver with the need to f.u.c.k and be f.u.c.ked.

So mote it be.

-- Martin

Harrisonsat back in his computer chair and frowned in confusion. What had he... had there just been an e-mail? He could have sworn he'd been reading. But, no, his screen was bare of any new messages. Not a thing from Martin tonight aside from a quick, friendly note saying he'd be at the club, too, suggesting they meet for a casual chat in person.

No flirting, which was strangely disappointing.Harrison 's pulse quickened as he stood, interest and excitement building at the thought of actually meeting the little vixen.

A momentary flash of a blond man in an opened purple robe flashed through his mind. A blond man whose c.o.c.k jutted out, demanding to be serviced. He was as appealing as honey wine while he whispered wicked secrets.