“A job involving orphaned, traumatized children. I’d just met them too, and yet look at me, I’m still here.” Clayton pushed away the hand Mal hadn’t realized he’d tried to place on the man’s shoulder.
“Well… I’m back now.” Mal hadn’t meant to come back, and he certainly hadn’t meant to stay, but he was fully planning on staying now.
His original idea of a snatch-and-grab was a good one. He could take Clayton and consume him mind, body, and soul inthe very best way, and Mal would enjoy every minute of it. But on second glance, he realized that Clayton would be angry and pointy the entire time, and eventually, he might even grow to fear Mal.
And for some wild, unfathomable reason, Mal didn’t want to know what Clayton’s fear tasted like anymore. Especially if it was directed at Mal.
It was probably because it couldn’t compare to the delicious cocktail of emotions and energy Clayton had shared with him in the kitchen. It was even possible that fear would ruin the entire experience.
Surely that was it. So Mal would play the long game. He would wait and watch, and as soon as Clayton realized that letting Mal run off with him was the best choice for everyone (Mal mostly), he would take him somewhere safe and secluded. Some place no one knew about.
Clayton would probably be attached to the kids until they didn’t need him anymore, so Mal would have to wait for at least that long. How long did human children stay children for? Months? A year or two? Surely no longer than that. Mal would just have to keep Clayton safe from every possible danger until then.
The children would be a fun diversion until they were grown. Mal could show off his weapon collection to them when Clayton was safely engaged elsewhere. If they were interested, he could pair them with the best weapon for their size and skill level. Tommy was small, so he’d need something light and devastating. A Glock 42 would be his best bet right now. Once he doubled in size in a few months, Mal could give the boy something more exciting to play with.
Tommy had grown quite a bit since they’d first met, so Mal was using hasty math to calculate his growth rate. Same with Merry; she was also a few inches taller. Was that how childrengrew? At the rate they were growing, they’d be double their original size in less than a year. Mal made a mental note to research what children needed in order to grow so he could help them achieve their full potential.
If they did well, he’d gift them each with an excellent weapon upon reaching their maximum size. He’d need to look up how long that would take so that he’d have time to prepare something good for them. Until they reached their majority, he would make sure to keep all ranged weapons far away from Clayton. After that, the kids would be free to play with them to their heart’s content in their own homes.
He should get on it. He kept hearing his clients say that children tended to grow up in the blink of an eye. Something about how one day you turn around and they’re setting off on their own.
Mal would make sure to send them off well. Clayton was likely well attached to them now and wouldn’t let Mal steal him until they were able to take care of themselves.
“Please don’t tell me you’re planning on staying.” Clayton’s voice was wintery, but he refused to look Mal in the eye. Instead, he seemed fascinated by the hole in the center of the floor. Since Mal was as well, he was ready to move the topic along.
“I’m staying. Deal with it.” He ignored Clayton’s sputters of flustered anger, and asked, “What the hell happened to your boat?”
Clayton stopped mid-sputter. “What do you mean?” He glanced around like there was nothing out of the ordinary about the gaping hole in the middle of his home that was defying all laws of nature by refusing to fill with water and drown them all.
Mal blinked at him like the man was an idiot, and then, slowly, he walked to a chair, picked it up, and chucked it into the hole.
Clayton watched forlornly as it splashed into the water below. “I rather liked that chair.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t live somewhere where chairs are easily thrown into the sea. How are you keeping Tommy and Merry out of there?”
There were no barriers of any kind between the hole and the rest of the room. It was unimaginable that the children hadn’t already fallen in and drowned, but Clayton didn’t seem like the kind of person not to address that issue. And even if Clayton didn’t care, there was no way Eira wouldn’t. That kirian was all fire, competence, and zero fucks to give. If she’d decided to take those kids under her wing, she wouldn’t let them stay somewhere where they could die so easily.
“Oh, that? It’s not as bad as it looks, see?” Without another word, Clayton stepped into the hole.
Mal was so shocked he didn’t have time to react. As he watched the man fall, his very being froze, unable to comprehend that something so new and precious had slipped away from him so quickly.
Blackness began to gather around Mal as something inside him cracked and began to warp and writhe like something alive and unpredictable.
He prepared to jump in after the man, but just as Clayton hit the water, there was a blue-green shimmer of essence, and the hole lit up with light. Clayton was engulfed in the shimmer, frozen in place for a split second, then launched back up through the hole. The essence surrounding Clayton set him gently on his feet without a scratch on him or a hair out of place.
“See?” Clayton held out his arms and spun around. “Nothing to worry about. The kids make a game of it when they’re bored.”
“How…?” The broken, writhing part of Mal began to settle, but he still felt like he’d just gone insane.
“Elemental sprites like me for some reason. They won’t let me fix the hole, but they won’t let the boat sink or let anyone inside be harmed. Pretty neat, right?”
“Neat…” Mal echoed hollowly.
Clayton continued, green eyes fairly sparkling with the joy of showing off the quirky features of his home. “They’ll do the same for the outside of the boat, but Eira made me fix the railing in case a norm takes notice that we have children. They tend to get overly excited about the possibility of children falling into the ocean. I suppose living without magic makes people skittish.”
“Without magic, you’d probably be dead. How many spell patches do you go through in a week?”
“I have no idea,” Clayton said, shrugging indifferently. “If you fall in, I’m telling the sprites to let you sink to the bottom, so stay out of it,” Clayton said primly, drawing his dignity around himself like a shield.
