Drabbles Meme

[aggybird]

Drabble #1, for _calex_, who requested "vampire/magician." And this is a one-shot.


Summoning Spell

George coughed and blinked through the thick cloud of glittery green smoke.

The vampire stared back at him through a mask made of small steel bars and looked down at the whistle around his neck, resting over the thick, padded vest he wore.

“Let me guess,” said the vampire. “You’re an apprentice magician.”

“I’m taking a correspondence course,” George admitted sheepishly. “The latest lesson was all about summoning demons. I thought I’d try for a vampire.”

“I see,” said the vampire, taking off his mask and letting it dangle from his fingers. “Perhaps next time you should pronounce your spell words more clearly.”

“Yeah,” George agreed morosely. “I’m probably the first magician to ever summon a vumpire.”

The corner of the vampire’s mouth twitched. “That, in itself, might be viewed as an accomplishment.” He stepped neatly out of the protective circle George had drawn on the floor, disturbing the chalk dust with his passing. He walked over to the desk and flicked absently through the papers scattered across the top.

“You have terrible penmanship,” the vampire remarked, shuffling through George’s notes. He set his mask down on the desk. “You didn’t paint the chicken’s blood runes properly at the corners of the room. You’re lucky you didn’t try to summon anything stronger than a vampire or it would have got out and eaten you.”

George scowled. “I type most of my spells into the computer when I get them.” He indicated the laptop humming quietly on the desk. “I’m trying to digitize my book of shadows.”

The vampire examined the laptop with interest. “A thoroughly modern magician,” he remarked. “But your penmanship still needs work. That’s strike one.”

“I said I was only an apprentice!”

“Hm,” the vampire replied noncommittally. He glanced at the laptop’s screensaver, which bounced the words “Magician George!!! :D” back and forth across the screen, and looked back at George. “George, is it?”

“Yes,” George answered in a huff. “I knew I should have closed the laptop before I did the spell. Now you know my name, that’s just perfect.”

“I’m Steve,” said the vampire. “If that makes you feel any better.”

George nearly tripped over the hem of his dark purple summoning robes. “Steve? Oh great, I summoned Steve, the Dark Scourge of the night. I knew a correspondence school for magic was too good to be true.”

Steve the vampire laughed. “The fact that you managed to summon a demon at all should only cheer you up. It means you must really have some sort of latent magical ability.”

“I don’t think so,” George replied. “I summoned a vumpire named Steve. I should just break my broomstick in half and see if I can get my tuition back. None of my other spells have worked out right, anyway. Something always goes wrong.”

“Perhaps you need a bit of help,” Steve said, leaning casually against the desk. His whistle swung with the movement. “I might be of service.”

George raised an eyebrow haughtily. The effect was lost when his pointed hat slid down over one eye, obscuring his vision. He hastily shoved the hat back into place; instead of standing straight up like it was supposed to, the hat flopped to the left and the pointy bit dangled in front of his face.

Steve shook his head, then smiled, his expression wry. “Actually, you might be beyond help.”

“Thanks,” George said. “Why would you help me anyway?”

It was Steve’s turn to arch an eyebrow. He managed it perfectly. “You summoned me and bound me to a task. Your work may have been shoddy, but that doesn’t mean it failed.”

“Oh.” George scratched his head. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. “Um, what do bound vampires - do?”

Steve’s expression darkened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “That depends on what you want.”

“Oh, geez, I don’t know. Could you - help me around the house or something? I mean, I can never seem to keep up with the dishes.”

Steve’s eyes glinted. “That’s your task for me? You don’t want my help with your magic?”

“Not really.” George hesitated. “I’d rather not rely on a demon to help me. I could never be sure you were being entirely, uh, truthful. But cleaning - I could tell if you didn’t clean. I mean, my job keeps me away a lot - I work at a coffee shop that’s open late, so my hours are kinda crazy - and I never have time to do laundry or dishes or vacuum or whatever. So, yeah - Could you help me keep the house clean?”

Steve smiled a thin little smile. “I see. Are you sure you’re only an apprentice magician?”

“You don’t have to make fun of me,” George replied in irritation. “I know I suck at this magic stuff. I’m even allergic to the myrrh candles.” He sneezed for emphasis. The ceremonial candles flickered cheerfully around the pentagram on the floor.

“You certainly don’t seem to have the desire for world domination like most powerful magicians,” Steve remarked. He smiled, and in the candlelit room, his fangs shone eerily.

“No,” George replied. “I’d like to quit my crappy job and live in a castle with a handsome prince and lots of servants, but that’s the extent of my desires.”

Steve looked at George sharply. “That’s it, is it? Lofty goals, indeed.”

George shrugged sheepishly. His oversized robe slipped off one shoulder, exposing the ratty t-shirt underneath, and he tugged it back into place. “I mostly summoned you just to prove I could.”

“Just to prove you - “ Steve visibly reined himself in. “What a waste of power. Strike two, little magician.”

George blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“Never mind,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Where would you like me to start?”

“In here,” George said. “I’ve got to go to work in an hour, so I need to mop up the chalk diagrams and the chicken’s blood and scrape the candle wax off the floor. My landlord would kill me if he saw all this. And I’d definitely lose my deposit. After that, um, the kitchen’s kind of nasty. And I think some of my dirty laundry is sentient now.”

Steve sighed and pushed himself off the desk. “Yes, master.”

George tried to smile. “And you can, y’know, be banished when you’re done with everything. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve echoed.

When George got home from work later that night, the first thing he noticed was that his house sparkled. Everything had been dusted, polished, swept, mopped, and possibly even disinfected. A bouquet of freshly cut daisies stood in a vase on the coffee table in the living room and the air smelled like a fragrant sea breeze.

The second thing he noticed was Steve, stripped down to a t-shirt and jeans, standing in the middle of the living room twirling his whistle around his fingers.

“Hi, Steve,” George said stupidly. “Why are you still here?”

“Because,” Steve said patiently, “I am always going to be here. You gave me a task I can never complete.”

“What?” George said.

The corner of Steve’s mouth curled up, revealing a fang. “After you left, I thought about it and I realized that you probably weren’t clever enough to realize what you’d done.”

“Hey!” George said, setting his bag down. “I am too! What - what did I do?”

Steve smirked. “You tasked me with keeping the house clean. If you had simply asked me to clean the house, I could have done that and been gone. Or been free to seek you out for revenge,” he added.

George gulped.

“But,” Steve continued, “you assigned me a continuous task - very clever. Most magicians don’t think like that.”

“Wait - so you have to stay here because - because the house will never stop needing to be kept clean?”

“Very good,” Steve said. “I’m so glad you’ve been following along.”

“Geez! That’s terrible! How do I, um . . .“

“Get rid of me?” Steve asked in amusement.

“Yeah,” George said.

“Now that is a little complicated,” Steve said, “because you didn’t actually summon me.”

“Hold on a second - how do you figure that? I chanted the words, I threw the summoning powder, I drew the pentagram, and, oh yeah, a vampire showed up in my living room - “

“Vumpire,” Steve interrupted.

“Whatever,” George said. “The spell wasn’t perfect, but I definitely summoned you!”

“Not from the Nethers,” Steve said evenly. “You summoned me from my nephew’s baseball game.”

George faltered. “Which he was probably - not - playing in Hell?”

“No,” Steve answered, smiling thinly. “He was playing it in the special field I have set up behind my castle. I was umpiring the game. I imagine they had to forfeit when I disappeared. So you see, you can’t banish me back to a place from which I did not come.”

“Are you sure?” George asked faintly.

“Very sure. The only way to get rid of me is to transfer my binding spell to someone else.”

“Who?” George asked, already fearing the answer.

“You,” Steve said. “But don’t worry, I won’t make you clean. I have other plans for you. I will, however, make you quit your job and come and live in my castle with my legion of servants and me.”

“I think - I think I should sit down,” George said, lowering himself to the couch.

“Do it while you can,” Steve agreed. “When I’m finished with you, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“What?!” George squawked, leaping up from his seat.

“That’s the thing,” Steve said. “I’ve always wanted my own pet magician - they can be so very handy to have around, you know, provided they’ve had the proper training - and here one practically falls into my lap. It would be criminally stupid of me to ignore this opportunity.”

“Uh, right,” George said, backing away as Steve advanced across the room. “Except don’t I have some say in this?” His voice was high and tremulous.

Steve stopped. “Of course you do. You see, I could stay here, of course. But you didn’t bind me quite properly, did you? I have to complete the task you’ve assigned me, but I can do whatever I want with you in between cleaning.”

A cold trickle of fear ran down George’s spine. “You can?”

“I stepped out of your protective circle, didn’t I? As I said, shoddy rune work, George. There’s nothing to stop me from biting you right here.” Steve stepped closer, his eyes dark and fathomless. “I can have my wicked way with you as long as I keep your house clean.”

George hastily knocked over the daisies. The flowers and water spilled across the table and the floor, and Steve jerked straight as though someone had yanked a string.

“Oh, very clever, magician,” Steve said admiringly. “But you can’t make messes forever. You’ll have to sleep at some point, and then I’ll have my fun with you.” His dark eyes were heavy lidded as he stared at George, and George couldn’t figure out if that was a promise or a threat.

“Excuse me,” Steve said. “I need to get a towel.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Against his better judgement, George followed him. “Okay, I get that you’re mad about the summoning thing - sorry, all right? But isn’t there some other way? I mean, I don’t want to live in mortal fear of my housecleaner, and I’m sure you really don’t want a bumbling magician hanging around your castle.”

As he walked, George tilted picture frames askew, knocked over a potted plant, and threw his jacket on the floor. Steve glanced over his shoulder with an irritated look, surveying the mess George made.

“Really?” Steve replied. He took a dingy towel out of the linen closet and headed back to the living room to mop up the spill. “I don’t know. You’re practically edible. I think I might enjoy the distraction.”

“See, that’s, uh, that’s where I’d have to disagree,” George said. “It makes people like me nervous when vampires tell us we’re edible. We start getting paranoid about ending up lifeless, bloodless, husks. Go figure.”

Steve laughed, a rusty, pleasant sound. “I’ve never bitten anyone with freckles before. How novel it will be.”

George scowled, his lower lip poking out. “You’re making fun of me again.”

Steve whirled around and pressed George up against the wall. He looked like he was fighting off a compulsion: his neck chords stood out and his eyes kept darting to the living room and the puddle of water. His free hand gripped George’s upper arm almost painfully. George found he was quite suddenly breathless.

“You’d better make a mess in a hurry,” Steve hissed through his teeth. He stared fixedly at George’s mouth and then his eyes traveled slowly down to George’s neck. “I’m going to be cleaning like the very Devil.” He let go of George and stalked into the living room.

George caught his breath and then went to upend the garbage bin in the kitchen.

Steve found him sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later, his head in his hands. The vampire glanced around at the wreckage of the kitchen and his lips quirked up. “Still fighting, I see?”

“Please don’t bite me,” George said into his hands. “Go away. I banish thee. Hasta la vista.”

Steve fetched a mop and bucket from the pantry and filled up the bucket at the sink. “Not going to work, I’m afraid. You’re doomed.”

George looked up. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically. “Nice of you to try and comfort me.”

Steve grinned, all teeth.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” George said suddenly, staring at the tabletop as he listened to the water sloshing into the bucket and Steve humming under his breath. “I don’t want to be some vampire’s sex toy. I want a - a handsome prince.”

Steve was at his side in an instant, kneeling on the floor next to his chair. He took George’s hand gently in his. “Didn’t I tell you? Among vampires, I’m considered part of the aristocracy. I could be a handsome prince, if the occasion requires it. For example, if someone were looking for a prince.”

George peeked at Steve through his lashes. “Really?”

In answer, Steve cupped his hand around George’s face and tilted his chin up. Then he kissed him.

George closed his eyes and fireworks exploded behind his eyelids. Steve’s lips were cool and slightly chapped, and he slanted his mouth across George’s lips perfectly; his tongue danced across George’s lower lip and his hands threaded through George’s hair, leaving tingling trails across his scalp.

George sighed, opening his mouth to let Steve’s tongue slip inside. He felt his body growing hot and flushed, and moaned against Steve’s mouth, reaching out to wrap his arms around the vampire’s broad shoulders.

Steve pulled away reluctantly, licking his lips. “Strike three," he said softly. "You're mine."

"Muh?" George replied muzzily. Tiny bottle rockets were still exploding in the back of his brain, and all he could think was, Wow.

"I have to - clean now,” Steve said, trailing a hand down George’s cheek. “Damn your mess, anyway. But as soon as I’m through, I’m going to spirit you away to my castle and keep you there forever and drown you in pleasure. Please, sit very still and try not to make a mess.”

George laughed, and felt himself go red from neck to ears. “Th-that sounds like a good plan. Let me get my laptop and I’ll try and figure out a proper transference spell while you work. You’ll have to think of a good task for me, you know.”

“Oh, I already know what it will be: You have to keep waking up with me every morning, for as long as you live.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” George said, smiling through his sudden blush. “Think you could help me with my spells while I’m staying there with you?”

Steve leaned against the mop and regarded George fondly. “Yes, my bumbling magician, I can. Imagine, you tried to summon a demon and instead found yourself a handsome prince. You’re not a very good magician, but you do have potential.”

George thought about the love spell crumpled in the pocket of his summoning robes and smiled to himself. Actually, he was a very good magician.