8. The Eschar

Coffee wafted into Micah's dreams and woke him much more pleasantly than a wolf's jaws on his ankle. He stirred and pressed his face into the pillows that smelled like the woodsy cumin Julian loved to use in his cooking.

He pushed himself up using his good arm and sat on his knees wiping sleep from his eyes. Julian snored soundly beside him, unbothered when Micah sat up. On the other hand, Cinnamon peered judgmentally at him, curled around Julian's head on his pillow with his feathery tail swishing gently. Micah reached out and cupped Cinnamon's head in his hand and smirked when the cat chirped his annoyance.

Climbing out of the bed, Micah's senses revived as sleep withdrew. He stiffened, eyes narrowing. Some presence was in the house that wasn't there when he went to sleep. He didn't recognize it, which was the biggest cause for alarm. Somebody must have welcomed it, otherwise he felt sure his aloe wards wouldn't have permitted entrance. Suspicious and curious in the manner of a doomed cat, he adjusted his sling around his neck, the muscles protesting like they did when he was first injured. Then he tried to roll back his shoulder. With a sharp gasp, he leaned against the doorway, vision blurring and head spinning.

"Micah?" Julian's voice was thick with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he hissed. Then he blinked, recalling their nocturnal conversation. "Er, no. No I'm not."

"Your shoulder?" Julian pushed Cinnamon's paw out of his ear.

"Yeah. It's bad again. Worse, I think." Micah's chest tightened. This was why he'd gotten so comfortable lying. Admitting the truth aloud like this was wretched.

"Let me know if I can help," mumbled Julian, rolling over in bed.

"I will." Calling his staff into his palm, he moved with the uneasiness of not knowing how else his body would fail him as he leaned his weight on the birchwood. The steps in the brownstone were steep and would not be forgiving if he fell. It was all exactly like his first few nights at home last month, harried and depleted by the simplest activities, frustrated by his own vulnerability. Already dour, Micah wanted nothing more than a long hug from Andrew, and some of that strong coffee he could smell. Andrew always brewed coffee like someone that didn't drink it often himself, but it tasted better for being made out of love.

"Andrew?" Micah called when he reached the living room, aimed at the hall to the kitchen rather than the couch and the sliding glass doors.

"Here," said Andrew, right when someone in the living room cleared their throat.

Micah jumped, pulled out of his fog of pain as he spun toward the couch.

Standing with a hand on the arm of his suede couch was that brunette with the little touch of foreign vanilla-scented magic. Diana looked supremely uncomfortable, her face pinched as if with indigestion, color rising on her cheeks as soon as he met her gaze.

Brandishing his staff with the jagged end flaring with acid-green light, Micah demanded, "What the ever-loving fuck are you doing in my goddamn house?"

"Hey, hey, hey," said Andrew placatingly. "I was on my way to wake you." He hurried over while Micah fell into a fighting crouch, knees bent, staff outstretched toward Diana, radiating a sharp cedar smell of hostility. When Andrew touched his waist, the scent evaporated almost at once as Micah tucked the staff against his chest, spinning to face Andrew with muscles rippling his back. Panting through his nostrils, Micah's wide and frightened eyes searched Andrew's face for an explanation.

"Did she bring my nightmare?" Micah asked breathlessly, clinging to Andrew's soft cable knit sweater with such urgency he almost spilled the mug of coffee between them.

Andrew shook his head quickly. His hair was half-braided and still a bit damp. "No, she can't do stuff like that," he murmured, voice soft like the sound of paging through a book, trapping a strand of Micah's hair between his fingers. "The vow she made to Ingrid was powerful magic. A Tall One like the Ruby Daughter can create the most ironclad oaths when they charm a human to follow an order. I read about them this morning before I called Diana, and I can feel it working. She can't hurt you. I promise." Andrew bent to plant a lingering kiss on Micah's cheekbone. His almond soap mingled with the strong coffee, almost making Micah's mouth water.

"I don't understand," Micah said weakly as Andrew gently turned him toward the couch and steered him onto the cushions. He lowered the birchwood staff to lay across Micah's knees so he could deposit the mug into his hands, nudging it up to his mouth until Micah obliged and took a long drink.

Fidgeting with her long, loose hair, Diana shifted her gaze to the ceiling as Micah sat down and glared at her. Somehow her cheeks colored darker. She was dressed plainly in jeans—not ripped, Micah noted with amusement—and a Fall Out Boy tee under a flannel. She mumbled, "It wasn't my idea."

"Sorry, what?" Micah exclaimed. He bugged his eyes at Andrew. "Babe, what are you—"

"Micah," Andrew interrupted. "We need her help." He sat on the center cushion next to Micah so their knees were touching. "She's our best bet."

"Oh, is she now? And how's that?"

"You were wounded with a ceremonial blade by witches who were then able to reopen the wound through a dream," Andrew said matter-of-factly.

"So you ask the person who caused it?" Micah said.

Diana bent and picked up a stack of heavy, ancient tomes from the coffee table. "I—I have several different cleansing spells we can try. Andrew requested spells that are mostly Celtic in origin, which was trickier because the Druids don't write a lot of stuff down, but during the Renaissance, more people were collecting records of…sorry, I can go on and on. Anyway, Andrew sounds more sensitive to magic than me. And…uh…the wolf, apparently. Which I would love to pet. But…anyway."

Fionna, laying in front of the television, woofed out a half-growled breath, her eyes fixed on Diana with her ears forward and alert.

"Don't touch her." Andrew's voice had the growl of the protective alpha male as he narrowed his dark eyes at Diana. It was a surprising comfort to Micah, who realized Diana was still in a precarious position one misstep away from being torn about by Andrew and Fionna both.

"Of course," she squeaked.

"Andrew, I don't know about this," groaned Micah. "How can you trust her?"

"I don't," Andrew assured him. "But I'm desperate. Any risk to rid you of whatever's eating your shoulder is one I'm willing to take. Especially if it's a risk with her—" He raised his voice. "—Since I feel very confident I could cut her open with a clean conscience if she wrongs us." Andrew grasped the hilt of his seax from under his collar and unsheathed it far enough for the morning light to flash across the black iron blade. Diana swallowed audibly. Satisfied, Andrew replaced the blade to its holster and nudged his arm into Micah's. "Don't trust her. Just trust me." He pressed his cool lips to Micah's feverish temple. Then he sat on the floor with his back against Micah's legs, opening the top book to the first pink sticky note in it.

Diana wasn't looking at them but she could feel the searing stare Micah fixed on her over the brim of his coffee mug. She picked up the next book and opened it and then set it beside Andrew's. She did the same for each of the five books she'd brought with her. They were all opened to variations of a cleansing spell. She reached into a canvas book bag and pulled out thick candles colored green, blue, and white.

After a long drink of coffee, Micah asked her warily, "Why are you helping?"

She glanced at him. Her eyes flicked down to his bare chest; her cheeks turned redder, and then she looked away.

Andrew raised his brows and said to her, "Down, girl."

"It's the chest piece," blurted Diana. "It's really beautiful. That looks like a bobcat skull."

Micah stared expressionlessly at her until she looked awkwardly away. Then he turned an accusatory, wide-eyed glare on Andrew. Andrew gave him a pained smile and an exaggerated shrug.

Diana said, "Anyway, I don't think I was really given a choice, for one. Your…er…fiancé is very intimidating."

"Thank you." Andrew winked at Micah, who rolled his eyes but nodded in admission.

Diana went on, "And anyway, this whole mess definitely was my fault. If I hadn't told the girls you were Fae, they'd have left you alone." She set a chrome lighter on the table. Then she pulled out a small booklet of blank paper and a pack of pens.

Andrew picked up the paper, glanced at the book, and picked up a green pen.

"Color symbolism is almost universal," Diana told him as he inspected the pen between his fingers. A piece of masking tape wrapped around it and said ABUNDANCE. "We don't need language in common to have a color evoke the same feeling."

They quietly went to work copying the text for the pieces of paper from the book. The page was press-printed and fuzzy with age. Andrew and Diana were head-to-head while they transcribed.

Micah leaned on his good arm on the armrest of the couch. The morning sunlight was cool and white as it slanted through the leaves of a spider plant and painted Andrew's skin with calico light. Andrew shot him a lingering glance and a steadying smile, a crinkle appearing beneath his eye. How on earth Andrew was so capable of making amends with those who threatened him—Diana, Chamomile, even Ingrid—was baffling to Micah. He had a unique ability to focus on someone's utility rather than his own ego. Dark and teasing, Andrew's gaze languished over Micah's bare chest, and he had the cheek to actually bite his lip. Micah snorted. Andrew grinned and looked back at his books while Diana cast them a brief look of confusion.

She tapped her page, "Scholars presume that this iteration of the spell focuses on the restoration nature can provide, while also using the burning of paper to symbolize the release of what bound him."

"Then I wonder why we're meant to use blue and green ink? Those are for healing. Shouldn't we burn words in orange, to dispel blockage?" said Andrew, pausing in his transcription.

Diana furrowed her brow. "I think you're right." She crumpled her paper.

Micah rolled his eyes. "Nerds."

When everything was prepared, Andrew pushed the coffee table against the balcony doors and spread a flannel blanket on the rug. He glanced up at Micah and held out his hand, and then froze. Micah's eyes were dark and frightened as he watched Diana arrange the colored candles in a large circle around the blanket.

"Hey," murmured Andrew. "We're going to make this better, okay? I won't let anything hurt you. Including Diana."

Micah held Andrew's gaze for several moments, his fear sharp as antiseptic mint and stinging Andrew's nostrils. Andrew climbed onto the cushion next to him, arm draped over the back of the couch. He leaned close so their knees touched and turned Micah's face toward him gently with his fingers.

"We have to try this," said Andrew softly. "We have to try everything to make you better." Micah searched Andrew's gold-flecked irises for courage and found it there, even though an animal fear nagged him in the pit of his stomach. Fionna approached in stealthy silence and sat on Micah's foot, leaning her head back to gaze adoringly at them with her fang snagging on her black lips. They both laughed, scratching the faoladh's jowls.

Micah turned his attention back to Andrew, his belly rising with a careful breath. "I trust you."

They glanced over at the sound of one of Diana's candles clattering out of her hands. She avoided acknowledging them as she hurriedly righted the candle, tucking a loose hair behind her flushed ear.

Opting to ignore her, Andrew kissed Micah's knuckles and then carefully lifted the sling up and over his head. Micah allowed him to help him off the couch and onto the blanket on his stomach, the fleece soft and catching on his stubbly cheek.

Collecting herself with sudden efficiency, Diana moved around him and lit each of the candles, holding her hair back over her shoulder. Then she sat on Micah's right side while Andrew was on his left, on their knees, face to face. They settled into position, and everything was still for a moment.

Andrew studied Diana's expression, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. "You still like him," he observed tonelessly.

Micah groaned. "Andrew! So awkward. Don't do this now."

"I had to ask. Everything ought to be out in the open."

"None more than me, shirtless, on my stomach, Andrew."

"You aren't the problem, love." Andrew's glare was stony as it settled on Diana.

Diana put her face in her hands. "I'm not trying to be weird."

"We left weird ages ago." Andrew cocked an eyebrow.

Micah craned his neck to give her a dubious look. "I thought you only kissed me to test your theory."

"It was a good cover, wasn't it?" Diana's glossy hair fell over her crimson face.

"No." Andrew snorted. "No, it was not."

Micah scraped his chin with his palm. "You're giving me whiplash, woman."

She shook her head and looked at the candles. "This is not a good energy to go into this spell." She sniffed. Then she lifted gray eyes to Andrew and said determinedly, "I'm not trying to steal Micah from you. I'm not trying to hit on him. He chose you, and I knew that all along. I'm sorry," she said to Andrew. "My feelings are irrelevant."

With a pang of guilt, Micah sighed and looked down.

"It's really not a big deal." Diana swiped a ringed hand through the air, showing a glimpse of the dark lines of her tattoo sleeve. "I'm sorry it's so obvious."

Andrew inspected her face for a silent moment. Behind her, Fionna sat up and thrust her snout against Diana's neck. Diana yelped and flinched away, gawking at the wolf over her shoulder with equal parts awe and terror. Fionna swung her head over Diana's shoulder and blinked at Andrew. Diana stiffly sat under the wolf's maw, unable to suppress a goofy smile of delight.

Andrew sighed. "I don't consider you a threat to me." She was cute and intelligent but he knew Micah hadn't liked her to begin with, and liked her even less after she tried to kill him. "I need you to work with me, and you're not an idiot. But you're making Micah uncomfortable, so I need you to try to…compartmentalize, or something."

She nodded, sheepish. Fionna licked her cheek with the tip of her wide pink tongue.

Looking down, Andrew stroked Micah's cheek with the back of his fingers. Then he gently peeled the medical tape off Micah's shoulder, making him wince. He drew back the gauze pad and sucked a sharp breath through his teeth.

Blood oozed from the athame wound. The tissue bordering the bloody hole was black and raised. There were infectious red lashes spiderwebbing away from the injury over to his spine and down toward the small of his back. The smell was overwhelming.

Diana clamped her wrist over her mouth and swallowed a gag. Green tinged her complexion.

Micah remained silent, trembling visibly.

Andrew double-checked the contents of his jeans pocket for reassurance. Then he looked up at Diana. "Let's get started."

Diana nodded, taking a short breath. "Touch your first three fingertips to mine, and I'll speak the incantation. Focus your eyes on the candlelight, and on the wound being cleansed. I will let go of your hands to burn the prayers, and when I do that, keep your hands down and open toward his body." Diana was all seriousness. No trace of the awkward, smitten woman remained. She held out her three fingers face up, thumb and pinkies folded in.

Andrew touched his fingertips to hers.

Looking down at the table, she began to speak a verse.

"Earth that birthed us

Sky that shrouds us

Water that quenches us

Fire within us

Remove the poi—"

Eyes squeezed shut, Micah interrupted with a groan, "Ow, no, that feels very bad."

The candles guttered.

Andrew snatched his hands back, eyes growing wide.

Diana stared at the wound as it visibly throbbed. "We have to try to finish, otherwise it's worse," she said swiftly, beckoning Andrew.

"Uh-uh," Micah begged.

"It's like stopping the cycle of a day," said Diana.

Grimacing, Andrew set his fingers back on hers, his heart climbing into his throat.

"Remove the poison

Remove the poison."

Diana dropped her hands, scrabbling for the lighter and their three slips of paper. She clicked the flame to life and said as she burned the first edge,

"Cleanse the curse."

She burned the second edge.

"Wash the blood."

And the final.

"Heal the wound."

Teeth bared, Micah gave an animal cry of agony and curled his hands into fists. Tears soaked his cheeks, pooling on the blanket, dripping in a rush off his nose. The eschar spread around his wound.

On her belly, Fionna crawled to his head, worrying at his hair with her snout. Micah buried his face in the blanket, tense and shaking as he groaned into the floor. He clutched the wolf's cheek, fingers vanishing into her ruff.

"Shit," breathed Diana.

The candles went out. Smoke lifted into the air, curling southward on an invisible current.

"Make it stop," Micah pleaded.

Andrew dug into his pocket. He pulled out a mesh sachet and dumped the contents into his palm. Then he tipped them into his mouth. The leaves and seeds were bitter and aromatic and he fought back a gag as he ground them down between his molars.

Diana stared at him in silence, complexion gray as Micah sobbed quietly.

Andrew spat the crushed leaves onto his fingers and said as he leaned over him, "If you have any energy, send it toward your shoulder now, love." Then he packed the slurry into the wound.

"Fuck," Micah moaned, his body going rigid as Fionna curled around his head and licked his neck in small quick movements.

"C'mon, love," Andrew whispered, his thumb holding the crushed herbs inside the wound.

The birchwood cuff jumped off Micah's wrist and spun into his hand, growing into a staff, knocking into Diana's legs and forcing her quickly away. Its jagged end flared brightly, green mist rising over Andrew's thumb, the herbs underneath growing frigidly cold.

"There, that's it, love. Well done."

The change to the wound was not substantial, but at least the necrosis shrank back slightly. Micah's shoulder blades rose with several full breaths and he swallowed audibly. Andrew rubbed Micah's arms reassuringly.

"Here—" Diana dug frantically through her bag. "Ginger and willow balm." She held it out to Andrew.

Fionna shook off her wolfskin and snatched the tin out of Diana's hand. Diana yelped, falling off her knees onto her ass. She stared disbelievingly at the wolf girl, but had the wherewithal to keep her mouth clamped shut. Fionna opened the tin and sniffed deeply with her eyes flashing, licking the balm with the tip of her tongue. Seemingly approving, she tossed it to Andrew. Then she shifted her eerie wolf gaze to Diana, scowling, her jaw jumping with anxiety.

Andrew spread a generous amount onto Micah's wound as Micah gasped. Andrew included the angry red lashes and ended up with most of the skin left of Micah's spine coated and shining. He almost cleaned out Diana's tin. Micah lifted his darkened eyes to Fionna as the girl bent over him, brushing her fingers over his eyebrow until he took her hand and grasped it in his own, managing a thin reassuring smile.

"Keep it." Diana shook her head when Andrew held out the tin to her. She climbed to her feet and began to put her candles back in her bag. "I'm really sorry. That should have worked."

"What scares me," said Andrew softly, wiping his hands on his jeans, "is that it did something…"

"But it felt like we walked into a trap," finished Diana. She nodded. "Whatever they did to him last night is really bad. I am in way over my head. Can't the faeries help?"

"The Folk," Andrew corrected absently. "And not enough. Fae magic and witchcraft are diametrically opposed. Fae magic creates, like the herbal poultice. Witchcraft takes, even in its purest form."

Diana frowned. "I'm going to go do some more research. Dinner is tomorrow night. I will come here first so you don't need to pick me up." She glanced down where Micah lay in the fetal position. "No need to have him come back to the scene of the crime."

Andrew nodded. She was owed thanks, but looking at Micah made the gratitude die in his throat. He said instead, "Two of the Folk are coming with us. Reconcile yourself to that now, as they will have no patience for your emoting."

An odd look crossed Diana's features. "That's fine. I'm used to masking." She picked up her bag. "Let me know what I can do before dinner."

He nodded and followed her to the front door so he could bolt lock it behind her. When he returned to the living room, Micah was sitting up with his forehead in his hand. Andrew sank down close to him and raised Micah's head with his hands cupping his cheeks. It took a moment before Micah could bring himself to look into Andrew's eyes; as soon as he did, he choked on a shuddering cry and leaned into Andrew. Burying his face in Andrew's fuzzy collar, he squeezed his eyes closed in silence. Andrew wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tightly, and they sat on the living room floor in an embrace for some time.

After a while Micah turned toward the nape of Andrew's neck. The question fought against his throat, fought to remain a secret fear buried in his mind, but Micah could not let it fester in silence. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "What if this kills me?"

Digging his fingers into Micah's waist, Andrew couldn't reply right away. His chest got too tight; his jaw clenched so hard he felt his teeth grind. Finally he let his hand off Micah's waist to stroke his hair as he said determinedly, "Micah, there is no way on this earth that we will let that happen. I will not lose you to this." His voice broke. "I will burn the whole world to the ground first."

Micah leaned back and sank his lips against Andrew's, left arm hanging limply but clinging to Andrew with his right. Andrew kissed him fiercely, desperate at the thought of losing him, urged on by Micah's faint moan. Micah pushed him lightly by the shoulders onto his back, following him down with whisper-soft kisses.

"Ahem. Just want coffee."

They jumped, Andrew stifling a squeak as he pushed Micah back to his knees.

"Oops." Micah grimaced, too tired to put on a show of true embarrassment like Andrew. "Sorry, Dad."

"Holy shit," said Julian, rounding the couch. "Micah, this is what your injury looks like? It's still bleeding. What the hell is wrong with it?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Micah sighed toward the ceiling and mumbled, "I…it's…"

"It's a cursed infection," Andrew finished, pushing upright with his elbow. "Not the kind that a hospital would be able to deal with. We're working really hard to heal it, okay?"

Julian crossed his arms over his sweatshirt, face creased with worry. "I don't like this at all."

"Me neither," Micah said, face crumpling, tears welling in his eyes. He struggled back to his feet, using Andrew's shoulder and hand on his waist. Micah went toward Julian and dropped against his shoulder while Julian embraced him, giving his bloody shoulder a wide berth but paying no mind to the ointment that smeared on his sleeves.

Andrew blinked and broke into a smile as they embraced. In the time he'd spent with the family, it was usually Julian depending on Micah. Seeing Micah get to lean on his father for comfort was a tender delight. He climbed to his feet and folded up the blanket, shooing Fionna when her eyes lit up and she jumped on a fluttering corner. Fionna shuffled away and over to the father and son, leaning on the crevice between the similar shapes of their bodies. Julian dropped his hand onto the girl's head as Micah sniffled for a few more minutes before he straightened and smeared the back of his hand across his face.

Andrew set the blanket on the back of the couch and scratched Cinnamon's fluffy chest before turning to Julian. "Listen, we're going to need to take it really easy for a few days. Would you be up for helping with some wedding planning? I'm not sure what we're doing yet, but this stuff…"

"With the witches," said Micah.

"Yeah." Andrew nodded, stifling his surprise. "This stuff with the witches is urgent but distracting. Knowing you're keeping some of the wedding planning momentum would be a relief. You can assume if we need the Folk for anything, like music or floral arrangements, that they'll do it."

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Julian, surprisingly not reacting to the mention of the Folk. "I think that's a great idea. I was hoping I would get to help, actually. Micah's little aloe ward thing has given me a lot more energy."

Andrew smiled at him, slipping his arm around Micah's waist. He thought for a moment and added, "I'd love if you could enlist Sam's help. But I think he's mad at me right now. Could you see if he talks to you?"

He nodded again. Even his complexion was brighter, closer to Micah's usual hazelnut tone, and his shoulders were less hunched. "Sure. I'll do my best." Julian looked down at Fionna, whose hands were all the way through his sweatshirt pocket. "What do you say we take a trip to the store? You're getting so polite these days, I think we can go alone."

Fionna yipped, "Yes, please, Grandpa."

Micah's mouth fell open as he looked down at the faoladh, then up at Julian, then up at Andrew, mouthing Grandpa and clutching his cheek.

"I'm grandpa?" A smile creased Julian's face and crinkled his eyes. The sparkle in his amber gaze was one rarely seen before.

Fionna spun around Julian's waist and said, "Grandpa." Then she pointed at Andrew and Micah. "Dad. Dad. Boy family who loves me."

Andrew promptly burst into tears as he stooped to whisk the girl off the ground, embracing her as Micah and Julian closed in on either side. They all formed a tight circle around her, a ring of arms linked and laughing faces and the warmth of family.