Empathetic Magic

Empathetic Magic by Katica Locke

 * Genre: Erotic Fantasy Romance
 * Length: 116,000 words (WIP)
 * Rating: Mature
 * Warnings: M/M, M/M/M, and M/M/F sexual content, language, violence
 * Link: Coming Soon

Summary
Tony, a teenage runaway with no home, no friends, and no future, stumbles into a world of wonder, adventure, magic, and sex when he peeks through the wrong door and finds himself on another planet, the property of Lord Dahlen Massene, a handsome and charming empathic air mage. Together, they will try to overcome vicious kelpies, jealous werelions, homesick demons, psychotic vampires, and more while travelling cross-country in an attempt to reach Lord Massene's manor before winter snows isolate the mountain valley.

Intro
I hurried down the dark city street, my head bowed against the light drizzle that had been falling all day, looking for a stoop or alley that might provide even a few hours dry rest, but the good ones were already taken. Whiskey Joe snored beneath his sheet of soggy cardboard and Crazy Daisy rambled on to herself as I paused beneath the awning of the flower shop to wring the water from my shaggy blond hair. I needed to cut it again; I was starting to look like a girl, but scissors were hard to come by on the street.

I'd been living in alleys and under bridges for seven months, sleeping in shelters and eating at soup kitchens when I could find them. I begged, I stole, I did almost anything I could to get a bite to eat. Almost anything. I could have turned tricks for good money--I'd been asked enough, even though I was a guy--but I'd seen how the whores were treated by the rest of us street-folk, and that was one road I wasn't quite desperate enough to go down.

Stepping back out into the heavy mist, I hitched my backpack up higher onto my shoulders, everything I owned stuffed into that dirty bag. Of course, 'everything I owned' wasn't a whole hell of a lot--another pair of jeans, a couple shirts, some underwear and socks, comb, toothbrush, soap, and some other random shit--most of what I'd taken from home when I ran away had been traded with other street kids for food.

I stopped at the mouth of the next alley and glanced down the dark, narrow passage between two tall, brick buildings. Alleys weren't really my preference--they stank of garbage, vomit, and piss, and were infested with rats and cockroaches--but the rain was picking up and I was exhausted. An empty dumpster really wasn't as bad as it sounded.

A light inside the alley caught my eye, a warm, golden glow spilling out into the darkness. Curious, I walked toward it, large, cold drops of water dripping off the metal fire escape over my head and splashing on the back of my neck. Shivering, I turned up the collar of my shirt and hunched my shoulders. The light came from behind a battered steel door that had been left ajar, the surface scratched and dented and stained by rust. I reached out, holding my hand up in the light, and was surprised to feel warmth on my skin, like standing in the light of the sun.

I could hear noises on the other side of the door, and as I stepped closer, a breath of warm air slipped out through the crack in the doorway, carrying the smell of dirt and smoke, grilling meat and baking bread. I licked my lips, my mouth watering and stomach rumbling. Maybe it was a new shelter or soup kitchen. Even if it was a restaurant, I wasn't above stealing. Ethics don't fill an empty belly.

Pushing the door back a little, I was momentarily blinded by the dazzling light, and as I leaned through the doorway, my head spun, like being on the Scrambler at the fair. I lurched forward, falling against the door, and it swung inward, spilling me onto the floor, only...I landed in dirt, grass and leaves tickling my face. My stomach heaved and I pushed myself to my hands and knees as I vomited, my empty stomach trying to turn itself inside out as I choked on bile. I spat onto the ground and coughed, sucking great breaths of fresh air as I fought not to gag again.

I gasped like a fish out of water, but I couldn't seem to catch my breath. I felt like I been running for miles. My skin prickled, a faint stinging sensation all over my body, and when I tried to stand up, the dizziness returned. I just stayed on my hands and knees. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

Footsteps approached, but I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. Black spots danced at the edge of my vision. Was I going to pass out?

"Damn it, Versi, you forgot to lock the door," a deep, masculine voice said, and a strong hand gripped my shoulder.

"What...is...hap...pening?" I panted, my voice sounding strange, too deep and rough. I sounded forty, not eighteen.

"What do we do with him?" asked a softer voice, a woman's voice. I raised my head, wiping the bile and spit off my chin with the back of my hand. The man standing beside me was short and round, dressed in dirty work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt, wearing a blue baseball cap. She was dressed like a hooker, with stiletto boots, fishnet stockings, a short, red leather skirt and a skimpy, black lace halter-top, with bangle bracelets and huge hoop earrings. They both stared at me for a long time, and then glanced at each other.

"We can't send him back," the woman said quietly. "He's seen too much."

The man's grip on my shoulder tightened.

"Get the shovel," he said and my heart leaped up into my throat.