Meanwhile, Back at the Manse

Jon barely waited until the two women had left his den, before turning to Richie and demanding, “What the fuck do you make of all this?”

Richie yawned again. “I think I want at least eight hours of sleep and a helluva lot more coffee before I have to decide an answer to that question.”

“How can you even think about sleep, after everything they just told us? Or, is your world not tilting on its axis right now?” Jon plopped down in the chair behind his desk.

“Brother, my world’s been tilting on its axis since 1982. I’m used to it now.” Richie was as adept at the use of sarcasm as Jon was. Now, he turned and headed for the door. “And, I’m not worrying about this particular problem right now. I’ll think about it tomorrow.” His strides were quickly eating up the distance to Jon’s office door.

“Yeah, Scarlett, you do that.” Jon watched Richie go. This was all more than he wanted to know. He wanted to go back to yesterday, when he was completely, blissfully unaware that there was a battle between good and evil going on behind the scenes of his life. He stood up and walked over to the window. Looking out at the driveway that circled in front of the house, he replayed the day in his head.

Maybe Richie was right. Maybe he should get some sleep and work on this dilemma tomorrow. Wearily, he rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, as he headed for the doorway. He flipped off the light while wondering why in the hell he didn’t just walk away when he’d seen Fiona in his yard.

In his room, Jon went about his regular nightly routine, still trying to work out the puzzle that Fiona had dropped at his feet. After he’d brushed his teeth and washed his face, he’d moved back into the bedroom part of his suite and pulled his shirt off over his head. Carelessly, he tossed it across the back of a wing back chair that sat in the corner. His hands moved to the button and zipper of his jeans, and paused as his mind began to whirl. How many times had Fiona sat in the shadows in her miniature form and watched while he disrobed, or roamed around as naked as the day he was born when he’d thought he was alone?

For some reason, that didn’t seem to bother him as much as he’d thought it would. So, she liked to watch, hmm? He smirked to himself as the peeled the jeans down his legs. He began to move slowly, drawing out each movement, as if a lover awaited him in his bed, and he was prolonging the anticipation. It wasn’t until his strip tease was done and he was lying in bed that it occurred to him that Anna was going to take the first watch. Then Jon blushed to the roots of his hair. God, he hoped that Anna was in Richie’s room while he’d made a complete ass of himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Scarlett,” Richie muttered as he strode up the hall. Leave it to Jon to pull a literary reference out of his ass to suit him. Usually it was something obscure; but this one Richie knew.

He was dead serious about worrying about things tomorrow. Why worry now? Sleep on it, and things usually look better in the clear light of day. He did spare a thought or two to his and Jon’s current situation. Richie knew that his friend was wondering if they had it in them to take this on – not like they had much of a choice. He wasn’t overly religious, but he firmly believed that you never got more than you can handle. This? This seemed like a cakewalk compared to the last few years. Vanquish some sort of evil? Sure. No problem.

He had absolutely no trouble believing that there was pure evil in the world – he saw news stories that proved that every day. He also knew there was pure good; he knew there were heroes that fought against evil at every turn. What he couldn’t quite grasp that he was the hero. Well, he thought, technically it was they, and he chuckled to himself. He actually had no trouble at all believing Jon was supposed to save the world; hell, he tried to do just that with all his charity work. He just never imagined that the “saving the world” bit would be so literal.

Richie didn’t consider himself much of a “show me so I’ll believe you” kind of guy. In fact, he got into all sorts of trouble because he tended to need very little convincing to take people at their word. He completely believed Fiona and Morganna. Once he figured out Jon wasn’t pulling his leg, and he met the girls, ladies, fairies, whatever, he just accepted what they said as truth. Jon would eventually come around – he always did. Especially when there was a beautiful, interesting woman involved. And in this case, there most certainly was.

Fiona was a wild one, her fiery temper amusing to see. She wore her emotions on her face, and she told you what she thought. No secrets with that one, and her bluntness was a good match for Jon’s. To top it off, she was beautiful in an ethereal sort of way; that kind of beauty appealed to Jon.

As he jogged up the stairs, he thought about Fiona’s sister. Morganna was a totally different story. She was gorgeous too, of course, but her beauty was more earthy. Something about those violet-colored eyes of hers spoke to him of glorious sunsets and warm beaches, and he nearly tripped over his own romanticism. Her eyes held a sadness such a glorious creature shouldn’t know. When she smiled, it didn’t reach those vibrant pools. They were flat, cold, empty eyes. He wondered what had happened to make her look like that. His mental inventory of Anna took him next to her mouth, and he half wished (okay, if he was being honest with himself, more than half-wished) that he’d won that bet so she would have had have to kiss him.

She looked totally kissable.

He chuckled out loud when he felt himself growing hard at the thought of kissing that delicious mouth. Just thinking about Anna made his body happy. Fleetingly, he wondered what making love to an almost-sorceress would be like.

Maybe he’d try to find out.

Maybe she’d try to kill him.

“Nah,” he said out loud to himself, a hand on his doorknob. “She won’t kill me; I’m special, I’m protected.”

He was still talking to himself and picturing himself with Anna when he closed his bedroom door behind him. He started to hitch his shirt up over his head, then remembered that now he was being watched over, too.

“Anyone here?” he called softly. “I’m about to get naked, so if you don’t want to see that, I suggest you close your eyes.” Hearing nothing, he stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the general direction of the closet. This was his room, had been since Jon bought the house two years ago, and he kept clothes and toiletries here. He started for the door at the far side of the room that led to his bathroom. When he passed by the window that overlooked the backyard, a flash of movement caught his eye. He saw a big, buff man standing in the circle of flowers.

“What the hell?” Richie asked, and was about to throw on his jeans and go sprinting from the room to accost the trespasser when he saw Fiona and Anna approach. Neither was afraid; clearly they knew him. He watched as the man said something to get Fiona pissed off, and chuckled as she appeared to rant and rave and wave her arms around. Morganna stood there, arms held loosely at her side, looking at the man with something akin to hero worship.

Richie was taken aback at the stab of jealousy that pierced his soul at the look on Morganna’s face. He grudgingly conceded that the man was good-looking, and it was clear that Morganna had history with him. The man, however, appeared to be oblivious to Morganna’s gaze, concentrating on Fiona. Richie jumped back from the window when he saw the trio turn toward the house, and the next time he peeked out, they had moved several yards away, close to the woods where just hours before, he was looking for frogs. Richie watched them for a few minutes more, then gasped as the man just disappeared. Like he was never there.

“Fuck me,” Richie whispered, shaking his head. Tomorrow, he thought. Wonder about it tomorrow.

He closed the blinds and went to start the shower. He ran the water good and hot, and stepped under the sharp, needle-like spray. Groaning appreciatively, he stood for long minutes, letting his head hang forward, and the water hit the sweet spot on the back of his neck. Once he was relaxed, he quickly washed then turned off the tap. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel from the rack and after giving his hair a cursory rub, slung it around his waist. It settled low on his hips, threatening to fall off, but he didn’t care.

He brushed his teeth and tossed the towel into the hamper. Padding nude to the door, he called out, “Here I come!” He smirked evilly and threw the door open. “And I’m still NAKED!”

Morganna was in her miniature form, hovering in one shadowy corner of the ceiling. She heard the first warning, and smiled at his sense of humor. He really was taking this quite well. Then the door opened.

She very nearly lost her concentration when a very confident, very naked, somewhat damp Richie emerged. The light and steam at his back made it appear as if he was emerging from a dream. She watched the muscles in his legs bunch and release as he walked, and she blushed when she had trouble tearing her gaze away from his manhood.

Her eyes scanned his abdomen and chest, appreciating the solid, wide expanse of mahogany-colored skin. Richie stood by the bed and ran a hand through his damp hair, making drops of water spray every which way. With a sly smile, he raised his arms above his head and arched his back, stretching deeply as he yawned. He pulled back the covers and slid into bed, settling the sheets around his hips.

“Good night, Morganna,” he said softly into the darkness. With a smirk on his face, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Some time later, Morganna wasn’t sure how much had actually passed, she felt a shaking on her shoulder.

“Anna, ANNA!” Fiona said, startling Morganna from her reverie.

“Oh, is it that time already?” Morganna asked.

“Aye, and I have to ask, did ya even look IN on my charge?”

“Of course I did!” Morganna was insulted.

Fiona just laughed. “Sister, if you could have seen the look on your face as you watched over Richie, you would have asked the same question. He has gotten under your skin, hasn’t he? You’re looking at him with more than protection in mind.”

Morganna slid a sidelong glance at her sister. “I am not!” she protested.

Fiona placed a delicate finger along the pulse point just under Morganna’s ear. “Uh, huh, sure, then why is your heart racing?”

“He came out of his bathroom naked as you please, and I guess it took me by surprise, that’s all.” She lowered her chin. “I can't help that he's pleasing to my eye. It has been a long time since Accolon, sister.”

Fiona didn’t need more details, she knew exactly what her sister was talking about. She smiled. “Anna, you'll get used to it. Jon has been strutting around nude nearly every day.” Her eyes widened and she put a hand on Morganna’s arm. “Oh! Did you see him, too? He really is quite something.”

Morganna laughed and shook her head. “No, he was asleep when I checked on him. The bedclothes were bunched at his waist, but dipped no lower.” She smiled at her sister. “Methinks perhaps someone else has let her charge get under her skin.”

“I’ve been with him his whole life,” Fiona said. “I think I’m allowed...” She was cut off by a sleepy groan from the bed. The two women turned to watch Richie kick at the sheets until they were bunched up at the bottom of the bed. He snorted once and fell onto his back. “Saints preserve us, look at that,” Fiona breathed. She glanced at her sister whose eyes flashed with hunger and longing.

“I see,” Morganna whispered, her eyes wide.

“Does the resemblance to Accolon extend there?”

“Fiona!” Morganna blushed red and shrunk even more from embarrassment.

“Oh good Lord, Anna,” Fiona said, shoving at her sister. “You didn't used to be such a prude. Go. Go to Tír na nÓg and rest.”

“But...” Clearly Morganna didn’t want to leave this vision in front of her. Fiona supposed she couldn’t blame her, though Jon’s form was more to her preference, but Anna had to go and rest.

“Just a catnap. It’ll be dawn here by then, and you can be back and ogle all you want.”

“I was not ogling!”

“Damnation, sister, I was ogling. He is a fine specimen of male. But go. Rest. Tomorrow will be another long day.”

With a reluctant, lingering glance at Richie, Morganna flitted from the room.

Sure that Richie was safe for the moment, Fiona went up the hall to Jon’s room. She wondered if he had kicked off the bedclothes, too?