Chapter 7 #2
Tendrils of shadow seep out of the crystal ball and wrap around Jackson’s wrists, more beginning to form at his feet.
“Why aren’t you listening, what do you want?
” As Jackson struggles to get free from the grasp of shadows, he hears the creak of hinges at his back.
As wind rips through his hair, he turns his head to see tendrils of shadow open the door and go for Hakeem, who doesn’t seem to be backing away.
“Hakeem!” Jackson shouts as he tries to squirm out of his shackles of shadow, “Dude, don’t just stand there, Run! I’m sorry, it won’t listen to me.” Jackson’s eyes burn with frustrating tears, his jaw clenching. He can’t believe this is happening.
Hakeem stares in amazement at the tendrils approaching him, he squints and tilts his head to the side as if examining the magic before him.
“Fascinating.” The words are barely a whisper as they escape Hakeem’s lips.
“A fully autonomous spell like manifestation of Umbramancy. I’ve read research on how shadows can interact with other objects, as if they held a mass of their own, but never did I think I would see one act as though it had a will of its own; separate from that of the caster.
It’s like a separate entity that draws from the same source of mana as you Jackson. It’s …it’s truly fascinating.”
Jackson has never heard anyone talk about his powers with such genuine wonder.
He’s heard political and business partners of his parents fan praise in his direction, hiding their discomfort at the autonomy his shadows seem to have.
No one has looked at his magic, at him, with such passion in their eyes for decades.
His parents showed him love but this is different; intrigue, curiosity, a desire to learn more about him.
But now is not the time. The winds are picking up, the skies above the terrace beginning to darken, the magic thickening the air.
“Hakeem!” Jackson shouts above the growing winds as more tendrils tie him in place.
“Please, this has never happened before. Go! Get away from here!” Desperation fills Jackson’s voice.
His shadows often act on their own in childish outbursts, pranks and nothing more.
But this, this is aggression. What’s worse, it seems as though they are reaching for Hakeem, and Jackson cannot let the innocent man suffer at the hands of his magic; he would never forgive himself if someone else got hurt due to his lack of control.
Not again.
Please, not again, Jackson begs in his heart.
* * *
Hakeem loosens the grip on his bag’s strap and levels his silvery eyes towards Jackson. An unfounded confidence fills them.
“Jackson!” Hakeem shouts back over the winds to the man bound in shadows, “I have an idea to fix this. I know it’s crazy, but I need you to trust me.”
Jackson has no reason to believe the man he had met less than an hour ago knows what he’s talking about, but something deep inside does.
He looks into Hakeem’s eyes, silver orbs that shine like the moon under the light, unable to deny the unshakable confidence that fills them.
The bizarre pull he feels towards this random mage.
Against all logic, bound to his spot by unruly tendrils of shadow, Jackson nods his head once. “I trust you. Just please, be careful.”
Hakeem steels his resolve, taking a careful step forward, then another and another.
Wind whips through his hair, tousling his unruly curls even further.
He holds onto his glasses with one hand, the other grasping the strap to his messenger bag, desperate to keep both from flying off.
The shadows don’t impede him, it’s almost as if they make room for him to walk to the mana well in the terrace’s center, closing the glass doors at his back.
The air around the crystal ball is so thick with magic that it becomes hard to breathe for a moment.
The magic screams out to him, a siren’s song in the middle of a stormy sea, piercing through the clap of thunder.
Jackson can’t help but watch in fascination as the man before him stares down the mana well in front of them.
Hakeem takes his hand off his glasses, which threaten to fly off his face as the wind continues to rage around them; he doesn’t care as he reaches for the crystal ball sitting atop the runed bricks.
As Hakeem’s hand comes in contact, the ball erupts in a blinding explosion of green light.
* * *
A blast of wind sends Jackson hurtling through the air on the terrace crashing into the glass doors at this back.
Glass shards go flying, cuts forming across Jackson’s arms and face.
They would heal shortly but that isn’t his concern, nor is the glass scattered across his apartment.
Jackson’s mind settles on the man he left on the terrace, surrounded by his unruly magic. “Hakeem!”
Please, I beg of you, not again. He’s innocent.
Jackson reaches a hand out as he struggles to his feet. As he looks up, scared of what he’ll find, he is left speechless.
Hakeem is standing on the terrace; glasses fallen to the ground by his feet, surely cracked, surrounded by a gentle swirl of green magic.
At first he doesn’t recognize it, but then the familiar feeling sweeps over him.
That is his magic, not tendrils of darkness, but a beautiful swirl of forest green surrounding Hakeem in a gentle halo.
Hakeem smiles sweetly, the small gesture still filling his soft cheeks, as the magic goes from green to silver in his hands, and turns to Jackson.
“See?” The words escape him in a breathless exhale. “Told you I had an idea.”
Jackson cautiously makes his way over to Hakeem, glass crunching under his feet.
Thank goodness for house slippers: even for Jackson, glass cutting the soles of his feet would not be pleasant no matter how fast it healed.
“How?” Jackson reaches for Hakeem’s hands, stopping himself from taking hold of them. “How is this possible?”
Jackson picks up Hakeem’s glasses, cracked from the fall, and hands them back to him.
Hakeem places them on his forehead and directs his attention to the bewildered elf before him.
“I have a theory, those are kinda my specialty, heh.” He bites his lower lip and averts his gaze, “Um, this is gonna sound weird but I need you to wish you knew the answer. I’m half Djinn so it should allow me to craft a spell to answer all your questions.
Normally I don’t have enough mana to answer a question for a mess this big.
But,” Hakeem looks at the green mana turning silver in his hands, “I think I do this time, especially if my theory is right.”
Jackson shakes his head in disbelief, running a hand through his hair and scoffs. “Nothing is weirder than what just happened, so fuck it all. Hakeem,” Jackson stares into Hakeem’s shining silver eyes, rolls his shoulders back and fixes his stance. “I wish we knew what the hell just happened.”
Hakeem offers a shy half smile, “As you wish.” He claps his hands together.
Magic circles the men standing on the terrace, encompassing them in a vortex of green and silver.
A shiny cord of silver emerges from Hakeem’s chest, turns green half way through, and connects to the bare chest displayed by Jackson’s deep v-shirt.
The answer rings clear in their minds as the swirl of magic fades from around them, along with the shining cord connecting them.
Hakeem looks at Jackson in an excited bewilderment, as Jackson regards the mage in disbelief and shock.
Jackson’s words are barely a whisper as he acknowledges the answer the wish poured into his mind. “You….you’re my perfect match. A mana match. Holy shit…..HOLY SHIT!”
Hakeem nods his head, a little too excited for Jackson’s taste, curls bouncing on his head, unable to hide the thrill of this discovery. “Yes. Yes, it would seem I am, Jackson.”
A mana match, or a perfect match, both terms scientifically correct.
It refers to two individuals whose mana signature is an exact match for one another.
Mana signatures are an expression of one’s mana, one’s soul.
Direct family members like siblings or parents could have an 80% match to each other’s mana signatures, but never exact.
Exact matches are rare and coveted. It’s like finding someone whose soul is an exact copy of yours.
It is said strong bonds are inevitable between two people who share the same mana.
The magic pulling them together in an odd understanding that simple words could never convey.
And now, Jackson Nocturne, one who has grown to hate his magic and has never before today seen it look so…beautiful; has found his perfect match. Hakeem Al-Najim, born with little mana flowing through his veins, now filled with the abundant magic of another, that feels like his own.
Jackson bursts into a manic cackle, a hand running across his face, causing Hakeem to jump in his spot. “Oh my gods! Brenda Lee, you ridiculous old crone. How could you have possibly predicted this? You beautiful psycho.” Jackson buckles over, holding his side from laughter, tears filling his eyes.
“Jackson?” Hakeem takes a wary step forward, hand slightly outreached. “Are you ok? You crashed through the door hard. How badly were you cut? Do I need to call someone?”
Jackson grasps Hakeem’s hand firmly in his, causing Hakeem to swallow a yelp, neck and cheeks erupting in a blush of rose.
Jackson steadies himself and looks at the hand he held in his.
Seeing Hakeem’s shocked face he lets his hand go and straightens his back.
“I’m fine, I heal fast.” He points to the fading scars across his face, and flashes Hakeem a smirk letting his fangs extend into view.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about me. ”
Hakeem’s eyes go wide at the revelation, noticing the sun is still proudly shining in the clear January sky. “I’ve heard only the most powerful vampires can walk under the light of day. You really are fascinating, Jackson.”
Hakeem realizes he’s staring. Heat sneaks up his neck and he turns his gaze away from Jackson quickly.
Jackson chuckles at the reaction and rubs the back of his neck.
He takes a few steps towards the man in front of him and stops when they are toe to toe.
“Elf with vampiric properties is more accurate, and I’m afraid that word is wasted on someone like me.
But, I’ll attempt to take the compliment nonetheless.
Now I believe we need to get you a lease to sign, don’t we? ”
Hakeem perks up immediately at that. When Hakeem turns to face Jackson, who is now much closer than before, he takes an audible gulp and squints. Right, cracked glasses. “Really? No other questions? I got the room?” Hakeem can hardly hide his disbelief.
Jackson offers a warm smile. Somewhere in his mind he knew this was the right call. “You seem like a good guy. My magic seems to like you more than it likes me. So, why the hell not? I assume you can cover the first and last month’s rent?”
Hakeem nods his head enthusiastically in confirmation, earning another chuckle from Jackson.
“One thing though, any chance there’s enough mana left over in the mana well for a wish to clean this mess up, and fix your glasses?
” Jackson spreads his arms to gesture to the shattered glass and upturned plants on the terrace.
Hakeem looks at the mana well and furrows his brows. “Maybe, but I can’t be sure. I’ve never granted wishes using an external source of mana before, it’s weird to feel so…..energized. I may need a little more than what’s in there.”
Jackson joins Hakeem’s side by the mana well and offers his hand. Shocked, Hakeem looks to Jackson and back to the offered hand. “My magic is as good as yours it seems. If the well is dry, take what you need from the source.”
Hakeem swallows the lump that has formed in his throat before accepting Jackson’s hand. It’s warm to the touch, the rush of magic from under his skin sending a shiver up the mage’s spine. It’s wild and alive, and abundant. “Well, all that’s left is for you to make a wish, roomie.”
Hakeem cringes at his words while Jackson rolls his eyes, the corner of his lips curling up, showing off his pointed fangs once again. “I wish this mess was cleaned and fixed up, your glasses included.” He gestures with his free hand to the cracked spectacles resting in Hakeem’s curls.
Hakeem takes a steadying breath and draws from the mana well under his hand, and lets more flow into his body from where his hand is holding onto Jackson’s.
He lets go of the elf’s hand and takes the other off the mana well, silvery wisps of mana filling the air around him.
Jackson watches the green of his magic turn to silver around Hakeem, the man’s eyes softly closed in concentration.
He looks otherworldly. His tan skin haloed in a soft silvery glow, his jacket lifting slightly to reveal the dark hairs under his navel.
Jackson isn’t staring, of course he isn’t.
Hakeem claps his hands together to complete the spell, speaking three words that would stick to Jackson from this day forward. “As you wish.”