Marquis lifted the wand and turned it side to side. “I carve them to match the mage. And you like computers and electronics?”
The boy nodded. “I really like Dr. Who, and it would bereallycool if it looked like a sonic screwdriver.”
Marquis chuckled. “Doctor Whohas changed immensely since I listened to it on the radio long ago. So, knowing what I know aboutDoctor Whoand having met you—I’ll tailor it to you. It will be your sonic screwdriver.”
The absolute joy in the boy’s eyes spread with such visceral bliss that it would likely ruin all saint’s eve, full moon, and eclipse day presents for a long while.
“Thank you, Covenmaster!” Marquis delighted in the kid’s reaction. Rexford had made his own wand back in the day. The process had been instrumental to his training, holding the legacyin case anything happened to him. So, he’d never gotten to see the joy of giving Rexford his first wand. He’d gotten to see the pride of having done it himself, which was better but different. Caspian would be the same, would make his own one day.
With the wand back on his workbench, he bid Artie and his father farewell and set to work carving a matching set of handles, the design unique, somewhat futuristic, and inlaid with silver wire slid into a narrow channel just to emphasize the mechanical nature of it.
And from there, he checked his phone, finding it late at night as he finished. He did his best work late.
The work came natural to him—fluid, aided with magic and a skilled hand. And the wands, they weren’t identical, but they each had their charm. If he lost or broke the first one, it’d be a show of the evolution of his story, like inDoctor Who.
He put the first wand in a case and the second he labeled and put away, filing it under Penumbra clan. And, since he wasn’t tired, he freshened himself up, got a cup of coffee, and tied in on the other salvaged wood as, one by one, he gave his lathe quite a workout.
Half starved and exhausted, he came out of the workshop, went into his house, and startled. Everything looked different.
Furniture had been rearranged, a new couch in the corner, paint—the scent of it fresh in the air. Spelled on, of course. The hum of magic lay in the place. He stumbled through the kitchen, obtained the ingredients for a sandwich, to wolf down before he smiled, wandering up to his bedroom.
The bedroom furniture was different, the wall color changed, bedding new. Even the carpet had been done away with in favor of a rug and hand-carved wood.
He’d planned on simply falling into bed and sleeping a full twenty-four hours, but the new blankets and pillows didn’t deserve the level of filth he’d accumulated.
“Shower it is, I suppose.” And so, he bathed and went to bed where he could dream of a future with Mads in it once more, without the guilt of Doris lying next to him.
Chapter Fourteen
Mads
He woke with a terrible burning in his stomach, one that sank lower by the minute. Sweat trailed his brow, and he fumbled for the facility phone, dialing the extension for Dr. Vans.
He’d spent precious days talking to one of the coven members who handled interior décor and had even made a trip to the city to shop at a rather nice place for odds and ends. Everything else was a stab in the dark that he’d just have to pray felt good when it arrived.
Every day had drawn him closer to his heat with no Marquis in sight.
On the third ring, Dr. Vans answered with a grumble and yawn. “Doctor. I appear to—”
“Yep. We’re not playing any games. We can pack your things for you, but I’ll drive you over right this instant.” He hung up and something like anxiety and joy bundled in his stomach next to the rising anxiety of heat.
“If you let me call an outside number, I can call Marquis and tell hi—” Mads froze when Dr. Vans snorted.
“Nah. Let’s surprise him. He can get you a cellphone and all that after. Did you take your supplements I’ve been giving you?” Dr. Vans tapped his fingers audibly on something on the other line and Mads checked his pillbox.
“I have. I’m current. I still have to take my magnesium tonight.”
“Good. Take it now. Pack yourself a small overnight bag. I’m on the way.” He hung up.
Mads did as he was told, packing his belongings. The day he’d moved in with Marquis, he recalled the male coming to hissmall home, picking belongings to take and leave as he wanted. Mads was so embarrassed, not wanting to take anything for fear it would shame him—but Marquis hadn’t said a word. He’d never judged him.
But the house he’d walk into this time would be mostly his, a nearly new home to both of them.
Vans was there in a few minutes, just as Mads was giving his teeth a final brush. The burgeoning heat within him couldn’t truck with nasty breath.
Dr. Vans was a single male but had been nothing but kind to Mads, with no suggestion of untoward behavior. He didn’t so much as flinch around Mads, even if his heat was near. Perhaps it was his bound status? In either case, Vans escorted Mads out to the car, not opening the door as he’d almost grown accustomed to. Marquis was such a gentleman, and the thought warmed him as they rode, air conditioner blowing full blast.
“Thank you for the cool air.” Mads smiled as he hugged his bag.
