Chapter 14

In the orange glow from dancing flames, the two children studied each other. Jamie noticed that the short cropped red hair was gone, replaced by mid-length ebony that flowed down in waves. The boy was still, the palm-sized face shadowed at odd angles.

Jamie wondered if the child actually was Nyx. Maybe what he saw was a figment of his imagination. Maybe the hair was a wig and the eyes were just a trick of the light. 

Regardless, his soul still told him to take care of this child.

Rising from the floor, Jamie moved over to him slowly. He didn't know what happened on the child's end. Those men were malicious, yet he and his group left him unprotected.

He stepped close to the boy, easing his way into the space and taking the small hand. His lips and mouth dry from a day of non-use, he croaked, "Are you okay?" Jamie was a bit embarrassed by the cracks - it almost seemed like he was going through puberty.

The boy nodded his head, grasping Jamie's welcoming palm. There were many things bouncing in his mind that he wished to blurt out - half of which he didn't even know where they came from - but the boy simply expressed those thoughts with his touch.

The skin was calloused and dry; Jamie felt the cracks that shouldn't belong to such a young child or anyone for that matter. Still, the boy held his hand firmly, like the connection between them was a lifeline. And then thechild moved closer, like a timid animal that needed gentle care; tentatively, the boy brought their connected hands to his cheek. 

His skin was warm despite the chill from the outside. Jamie raised his other hand to the other side of his face, tenderly feeling the bony cheekbones. An inlaying part of him insisted that the boy should be fleshier - or at the very least, taller than him. That same distressed, intrinsic part of him made him wish to weep. 

The two children were stuck in their own little world when behind them, a fox's scream broke the atmosphere. Subconsciously, Jamie dropped his hands from the small face. But the hands did not get far when the child caught them and placed them back where they belonged.

The fox couldn't be more dissatisfied with the situation. The master did not even know what it was that visited them in the middle of the night. Of course, the fox didn't know either, however, the smell of stale blood was enough for to alert the animal that this kid was no good.

With the child firmly attached to him, Jamie shushed the fox from a distance. The boy wanted to be comforted, but the fox needed to be disciplined. Anymore noise and whoever was guarding outside would wake up.

Making a decision, Jamie still dropped one hand and dragged the child toward the fox. In a hushed voice, he chastised the naughty thing. "Shh. You'll wake the others."

Smoothing the hackled fur, he calmed the fox until the piercing scream was no more than a low growl. But then, with a slight pout, the boy tugged on Jamie's right hand to regain his attention. The boy and the fox stared each other down, yet Jamie could only snickered at the confrontation. In his eyes, the two were acting the exactly same. The mood was lighter, as if everything within the past day and a half never happened. 

Jamie sat on the bed, the fox now curled into a ball on his lap, the amber eyes watching the boy in distrust. And the other boy, still holding his hand, returned the gaze in quiet envy. 

In hushed whispers, Jamie asked, "What's your name? How did you get here?"

The boy removed his stare from the fox, the light from the fire place shining the dark pupils. The dimness made it hard to tell what color they were, but Jamie was sure they were not the red that he initially saw.

The boy hesitated momentarily before answering, "I don't... I don't know my name and I climbed through the window."

Jamie didn't know whether to believe him or not. Did the boy really not grow up without a name? "Did you want one?" Jamie didn't know if the child would be upset by him asking, but a name was necessary to one's identity.

In obvious excitement, the boy nodded. "Can you give me one?"

The fox's tail twitched hearing the boy ask this. His master had come up with several other names since that run down inn, each one worse than the other. What type of names were Ginger, Sparky, or Maple? Suddenly, he felt bad for this boy.

Well, only a little.

Jamie had no idea of the little fox's ridicule. He thought the names he came up with were all reasonable and cute. The animal was just too picky.

The boy watched the beautiful young master hem and haw for several minutes, each second that passed just surged his anticipation.

Jamie studied the boy's features, trying to find something that would fit him, yet all that came to mind was Nyx. He didn't think that it would be smart linking the child to the villain of the story, no matter how innocent Jamie believed this villain was. 

'Maybe a derivative of the name would be fine?'

"How about..."

The fox's tall ears pricked up, ready to supply a mocking cackle. This time, he truly hoped his master came up with something 'good'. 

The boy also sat up straighter. He had no concern for the quality of the name. Somehow, he believed whatever the young master came up with would be perfect.

As for Jamie, he thought that the name he chose actually seemed to fit the boy somehow. "Ciaran?"

Crushing the fox on the young master's lap, Ciaran tackled Jamie in a tight hug. He didn't know why he was so happy. He just knew that he liked the name - or at least, he liked the fact that the young master gave him the name - and that the monster in him was more content than ever. The storm that had been raging in him since he could remember suddenly calmed, leaving him in with this odd sense of peace.

Rudely flattened into a fox pancake, the animal screamed and hissed as it wiggled free. The annoyance was also multiplied by the proper name his master came up with. Why was it that the child could think of one on the first try for the boy, but could only come up with food and objects when it came to the little fox? Was the child just teasing him?

Ciaran was like an amplifier of happiness, radiating his feelings straight into Jamie's chest. Hugging him in turn, Jamie still had the mystery of how the boy snuck in the General's mansion, but he didn't want to ruin the moment asking a question that clearly made him uncomfortable. There was also the fact that Jamie needed to think of a way to explain the child's origins to his father and everyone in the mansion.

He wasn't so naive to think that Ciaran's random appearance would go without any questions, and he could let the child return to the streets - if that was where he was from in the first place. The malnourished appearance and rough hands were enough for him to know that he was being mistreated or had a hard life, worse than whatever he or Soleil ever went through.

Before the morning came, he needed to figure out a solution.

When the boy finally calmed, the happy waves still emitting from him in pulses, Jamie suggested, "It's late and we can't be too loud. Did you want to sleep here?" The boy nodded, his head buried in the crook of Jamie's neck.

The young master smelled good, much better than him... Remembering how dirty he was, the boy jolted in embarrassment. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Thinking back on how he scrambled through grimy alleyways and foraged through trash, he jumped off the bed and moved back six or seven feet. How could the young master stand his filthy appearance?

Jamie didn't know what happened. One second, he's being hugged and the next second he is being dropped like every girl his friend, Daniel, has ever dated. He almost thinks that he had something wrong when the boy's actions say it all.

Lifting up his sleeves to his nose, Ciaran sniffed himself in disgust. Jamie finally notices the other factors that he had ignored so far, disregarding the greasy hair and dirty face, he focused on what the child was wearing. 

Such as the thin, tattered jacket or the holy trousers. Or even the lack of shoes! The child's feet were bare. If it weren't for the temperate weather, Jamie would be sure that the toes would've been frost bitten.

Unacceptable in every way, Jamie, too, jumped off the bed and decided there was no need to hide anything. Well... actually... Turning back around, Jamie looked at the boy intently, "If anyone asks, say that you were someone I had met a long, long time ago. You were a child that had been adopted from the orphanage, but ran away from your adoptive parents because they weren't good people."

Ciaran took in what the young master was saying and nodded solemnly. No matter what, he will lie responsibly.

"Even if you can't remember everything, you remember me. That's why we had such a strong response... as for your hair and eyes... Those men from before dyed it and did some weird spell to make you look like that." Recounting how he didn't want to ask any triggering questions beforehand, Jamie thought that it may be for the best to know before he acted. "Do you... Do you know what happened to those people afterward?"

Ciaran's throat rolled as he shook his head. "They took me, but I ran away."

Jamie was relieved to hear this. "In that case, just tell the truth on that part. Can you repeat what I just told you?" The child reiterated exactly what he was told and Jamie nodded in satisfaction. With this, he opened the door.

~~~

Small Theater

Jamie: F**k, is it too late to die again and ask for a third chance?

God: Yes.

Jamie: Goddamit..

God: Okay. Time for you to screw the villain and save the plot.

Jamie: Wait, what?

God: I said, 'Screw the plot and save the villain.'

Jamie: ... Oh, thank God.

God: You're welcome.