CHAPTER SEVEN - POSSESSED

"Witch hunters?" The words felt alien on Nate's tongue. He let out a little laugh, thinking that Emrys must be making a joke at his expense, but the older man didn't even crack a smile in return. "Seriously? Are you being serious?" The repetition of 'serious' was necessary in Nate's mind, because if Emrys meant what he said, well, that was just seriously scary.

"I couldn't be more serious," Emrys said. "In fact, I would say deadly serious considering they will want to kill you, me and every other witch they come across."

Nate pulled back and stared at him hard. "There are people out there that want to kill me because I'm a witch?"

Emrys smiled. "Oh, yes."

Nate sank down in the tub, feeling slightly numb even as the water was still warm around him. "And they are in town?"

"Not yet," Emrys said. "But they will come and they will kill as they've done elsewhere. Only now, they have finally decided to strike at the heart of darkness in good little Winter Haven."

"I don't understand how this can be possible," Nate said. He ran a hand through his hair. "How can they kill people and get away with it? Aren't they caught? Aren't they afraid of going to prison or getting the death penalty?"

"They rarely get caught. Their goals are to kill as many witches as possible and getting caught would thwart their mission," Emrys said dryly. His topaz eyes flashed as he said, "If they do get caught, they kill themselves."

"What?" Nate gasped out the word.

"Poison in a tooth, if you can believe it. The incidents of their capture are so rare and so strange that people assume they are spies or some such thing. But no one ever considers that they are witch hunters." Emrys spread his arms wide to encompass Nate and himself. "I mean witches, at least the kind of witches we are, don't exist in any self-respecting law official's mind."

"No, no witch trials in a long time," Nate murmured.

Emrys carded his fingers through Nate's hair. "The Witch Trials in Salem are now looked upon with shame and committed by credulous or ill-intended people. The thought of persecuting wise women or those who did not fit in to the Puritanical view by burning them at the stake no longer is on anyone's agenda."

"Are you saying that the people in Salem who were burned all those years ago were witches?" Nate asked.

Emrys shook his head. "They weren't. No witch would be caught like that or if they were caught, they would have escaped. Those captured and killed were mostly poor people, ostracized, or unfortunate. What I mean is that the thought of people having powers beyond the comprehension of science like shapeshifting or controlling storms is not believed any longer."

"No, it really isn't believed in," Nate said. "I'm not sure I believe it myself."

"The witch hunters have always stayed away from Winter Haven and the Founding Families for many reasons. The biggest of which is that the Families are powerful, moneyed and, once roused, will finally strike back," Emrys said. His expression was grim. One of his hands curled into a fist on the lip of the tub.

"Founding Families?" Nate asked helplessly. There was so much he didn't understand and he had a feeling he needed to.

Emrys grinned. "Ah, I'm getting too deep in the weeds for you. Just understand that until now, the witch hunters have relegated themselves to chasing those that have left the seat of power, Winter Haven, and let themselves become vulnerable. But now the hunters have decided that the only way to truly win this war is to come here and destroy the fountainhead."

"Which includes me and you?" Nate asked.

Emrys nodded. "Yes, dear Nate, we are the last remaining members of two of the most powerful of the Founding Families."

"Then we're in trouble," Nate deadpanned. "I didn't even know I was a witch until tonight. And unless getting them wet is going to somehow stop them from killing me, I am no more dangerous to them than anyone else."

"Special gifts aren't the only gifts we have. That's why you have to come to Dunhaven and let me teach you," Emrys said. "You'll find that you're as dangerous as they come. Maybe more so. They fear you learning your powers and coming into your own."

"Please tell me that if I hadn't done that thing with the storm tonight that the hunters wouldn't be after me," Nate begged. Controlling the storm had been incredible, but the thought that doing that might have put his life at risk, worse, may have changed the world into something unrecognizable, had him gripping the edge of the tub for support.

Emrys was quiet for a moment. "If you had not taken control of the storm tonight those people on the boat would be dead, Nathaniel. Focus on that."

That wasn't an answer to his question and Nate felt his heart sink into his feet.

"You're right and I can't regret helping them. I would do it again even knowing what I know now," Nate said with a sigh. He glanced up at the other man with a suspicious glint in his eye. "Not that I want the witch hunters to be after you, but as you had already embraced magic before tonight, couldn't you have saved the boat?"

"No," Emrys said simply. "I could only have watched helplessly as it capsized and those inside drowned."

"I don't understand. If I could do it --"

"Every witch has a special gift. Mine is the power to become a wolf. Yours is to control storms. These are specific gifts from our bloodlines. They have resided in our families since this all began," Emrys explained.

"How did this all begin? And why do the witch hunters want to kill us exactly?" Nate asked.

"Your bath water is getting cold and this is too long a conversation to have in a rapidly cooling room. Let's get out of here and I'll fill you in on at least in the basics, but understand that there are hundreds of years of history to recount and most of what I know is conjectural," Emrys cautioned.

"I want to know no matter how long it takes. Damn, I just realized from what you said that I can't become cute and furry," Nate grumped.

Emrys sniffed. "Cute? I turn into a wolf not a stuffed toy that you can cuddle."

"I don't know, you were pretty cuddly. I was thinking that it would be nice to snuggle up against you." Nate tried to hide the grin on his face. He had imagined cuddling with the wolf. The strong, sleek, silky fur rubbing against his bare skin. The rise and fall of the wolf's lungs as they curled together for warmth. He had been looking forward to that.

"At least you didn't imagine that I would sleep on the floor like some pet dog," Emrys responded. He then drew a finger along Nate's jaw. "The question is now which you would rather have: a furry body or a human one lying beside you?"

Nate let out a choked sound. Emrys tipped back his head and laughed.

"Quiet! Grandma is already wondering what's going on!" Nate hissed.

Emrys put two fingers in front of his lips. "Yes, yes, mustn't alert grandma to my presence. Do you feel a bit like Little Red Riding Hood?"

"And you're the big bad wolf? No," Nate responded.

"You're no fun whatsoever. Though I am hungry like a wolf. I'm glad she's making us a sandwich," Emrys said.

"Making me a sandwich," Nate corrected.

"But I'm starving! I left that party having only consumed a handful of canapes. They were quite good, but still. I'm fading away." Emrys rubbed his stomach for emphasis.

Nate sighed. "All right I will ask her to make two sandwiches."

"Good, because I don't share," Emrys sniffed.

Nate shook his head even as he grinned. He made a move to stand up, but froze as he caught sight of Emrys' very interested gaze. His cheeks heated. "Uhm, would you mind turning around?"

Emrys let out a laugh. "Nathaniel, we were just kissing rather passionately. You sucked on my scars. And now you won't let me see you naked ... again?"

The emphasis on again had Nate flushing harder. "I knew you were looking!"

"Of course, though your bath water was delicious," Emrys answered serenely. He stood up and grabbed a towel, which he held out for Nate. "Come on. Out of the bath. Time to get dry."

Nate paused for a moment then realized Emrys had to like what he had seen of Nate because they had kissed after the bathwater incident. So he stood up. Water cascaded down his body and Emrys' hungry expression told him that he didn't have to worry about his looks. The older man definitely liked them fine. "You're going to teach me the mist trick. It's not fair otherwise for you to cover up while I'm exposed here."

"Who said life is fair, Nathaniel? I certainly didn't. And if unfairness lets me ogle your beautiful form, I'm definitely not going to complain about it whatsoever," Emrys remarked.

"Aren't you going to give me the towel?" Nate asked as he stuck his hand out for it.

Emrys shook his head.

"You're going to make me walk over to you?" Nate asked incredulously.

"Of course. More ogling time," Emrys answered.

Nate shook his head. At least the other man was upfront. The boy was incredibly conscious of how his cock was still semi-erect and gently bounced against his thigh as he lifted one leg out of the tub and stepped onto the bath towel on the ground. He swore that Emrys' gaze had a physical component as wherever the other man looked at him, he felt heat bloom in that spot. His nipples peaked in the cooling air of the bathroom and gooseflesh chased up and down his arms. Emrys took another step away until his back was pressed against the wall. His eyes were hooded and he held the towel taut between his hands.

"You can't get any further away. You really that desperate to see me naked?" Nate laughed.

"Naked and moving, which is so hot actually. Forget simple poses, the way your muscles bunch and relax, the slide of silky skin, the trails of water that cling and then break free -- all is irresistible to me. I'd love it if I could see the back of you at the same time. Because your sweet, pert ass, even with those terribly cut pants, was lovely. I bet divested of all clothing they're like two peaches swimming in a bowl of cream," Emrys said.

Nate blinked at him even as he felt all the blood in his body go rushing downwards. "You were checking out my ass at the party?"

"Half the party was checking out your ass, dear Nathaniel. I wasn't the only one, but I intended to be the one who got to have it," Emrys remarked.

Nate walked over to him in a semi-daze. People were looking at him? Checking him out? It sounded so stupid, but he felt a bit queasy. He realized then that he felt like he was donning a suit of armor when he put on his clothes for work. No one looked at the help. Or so he had thought.

"Nathaniel, don't look so shocked. You're beautiful. Why is this such a revelation that people would look at you?" Emrys clucked while he tenderly wrapped the towel around Nate's body and began to dry him off.

"No, it's just -- I mean -- I didn't always look -- most people didn't like the way I looked! I -- I don't really like being seen!" Nate found himself admitting. He had never thought of it that way before. Unlike Daniel, he hadn't minded being ignored. It was better than people staring and pointing.

That's the boy whose mother died. She was killed. Slaughtered. With a hammer ...

Emrys nodded as if this made the most sense in the world. "I'm afraid to tell you that your days of being unseen are long gone."

His father left him in his crib to burn. Who would do that to an innocent child? Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe his father knew something ...

Nate shook his head to clear it of the sibilant memories of voices he had heard as a child. "I'll have to take your word for that. Can't see what the attraction is."

"You must be blind," Emrys remarked.

The older man continued to towel off Nate's legs and belly thought they were now bone dry. Not that Nate minded. He let out a pleasured moan as Emrys' hands slipped between his thighs twice. His cock throbbed. "Uhm, if you keep drying me I'm going to have an accident. Besides don't we have to get out of here? And uh, talk in my bedroom with -- with sandwiches?"

Emrys abruptly pulled the towel away from Nate's crotch and looked at the rapidly rising cock. "How lovely."

Nate squirmed slightly. "Lovely?"

Emrys' gaze met Nate's as he closed his towel-covered hand briefly around the boy's cock. "Very lovely."

Nate gasped and his hips jabbed forward, but then the teasing grip was gone and the boy moaned in frustration. "Why did you stop?"

"As you said, talking and sandwiches await," Emrys responded with a chuckle. He tucked the towel around Nate's waist. "You check if the coast is clear then we'll make a break for your bedroom."

Nate's cock was throbbing, but he could tell that Emrys wasn't going to relent and jack him off. Sighing, he went to the door and opened it a few inches. Colder hallway air whistled through the opening and his arousal drifted off slightly. He could hear his grandmother in the kitchen downstairs.

"She's downstairs so we're good. You head to my bedroom first and I'll call down to her about the second sandwich," Nate said as he looked over his shoulder at Emrys.

The other man had taken an additional towel and clasped it around his waist. The mist was gone. The bathroom's low light showed the faint trace work of scars all over his front. Nate quickly drew his eyes away from them. He didn't want to upset Emrys again.

"What kind of sandwich is she making us?" Emrys asked. "Because if its ham, I do so adore sweet honey mustard --"

"You'll get what you get and like it," Nate laughed. "She'll make us whatever we've got. No more awesome little canapes for you tonight. It might be bologna."

Emrys shuddered. "On white bread? With American cheese -- though I doubt that that cellophane wrapped abomination is cheese in any other country."

Nate grinned at Emrys' food snobbery. "You never know."

Emrys muttered to himself as he quickly exited the bathroom and headed down the hall to Nate's bedroom. Only once he was safely inside and out of sight did Nate emerge from the bathroom. His first thought was just to lean over the railing and call down to her as he told Emrys he would. But then he realized that he should go down and get the food so his grandmother didn't come upstairs. Though having Emrys hide in the moldy bathroom or his closet would be amusing when his grandmother came in, he didn't want to take the chance of detection so he padded downstairs in his towel. He tucked in the edges as he stepped into the kitchen to make sure he didn't lose his only covering. Flashing his grandmother didn't have any appeal.

His grandmother was standing in front of the worn butcher block kitchen island that her grandfather had made before such things became trendy. She had pulled out the roast chicken that she had made for them the other night and was cutting off large slices of breast meat for his sandwich. A good, strong white cheddar cheese was still sitting unwrapped beside a loaf of homemade bread. Stone ground mustard, fresh tomatoes and crisp lettuce were also set out. Her eyes rose from her task and she smiled as she caught sight of him.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

He nodded. He did feel better than when he had been in the car, but he had a feeling that was because he was giddy with Emrys' presence. If he actually considered too deeply what had changed in his life in the last few hours he would probably be curled in a ball in the corner or in complete denial. "How was your day?"

"It was rather ... well, it was a little trying. I had to leave work early and go to -- to the institution," she said.

Nate froze slightly. The institution was the mental facility his father was at. "Oh? Did something happen there?"

She began to slice the tomato. "It was a little odd. But nothing that you need to be concerned about."

"Is -- is he okay?" Nate asked. He wouldn't use "dad", "father" or even Shane. He couldn't quite speak his father's name.

His grandmother stilled, but then continued to cut and slice as she recognized how unusual it was for Nate to say anything. But it was also unusual for her to say anything so that told him that something momentous must have happened. "He's fine, but there was -- I don't how to describe it. I guess, an upsetting visit."

"Upsetting visit? Do a lot of people -- uhm, visit him?" Nate pushed the bread towards her as she had only cut two slices. "Can I have two sandwiches?"

"Of course, you can, dear heart." She cut two more generous slices of bread. The warm, yeasty smell rose up mouthwateringly from it. "Only I visit. You and I are the only ones on the approved list to see him, but somehow a woman got in. Not exactly clear how all their stringent rules were violated so easily." His grandmother's mouth pursed in anger.

Nate mentally filed away the fact that he was allowed to visit his father if he ever wanted to go through with Emrys' mad plan to see his dad, he'd be able to do it without much trouble. "What did she want with him? Was she a reporter or author?"

In the beginning, reporters and authors had wanted to tell his father's side of the story. Murders happened in Winter Haven, but the sheer violence of this one had caught the national press' attention. The local agencies knew what questions not to ask and when not to report, but others had not. At least, not at first. Nate wondered if this woman was one of those who still hadn't gotten the message: Winter Haven did not want any publicity.

His grandmother spread mustard over the bread and sliced thick wedges of cheese before she answered, "No, she claimed to be married to someone -- well, she claimed that she had the same -- ah, problem as your father."

"She killed her spouse with a hammer?" Nate asked, a trace of acid in his tone.

"Well, she asked -- you see your father's delusion is that -- that your mother was a -- ah, well, ... forget about this, Nate. It's over and done. She was delusional and your father was upset, but it's all over with now," she said as she put the rest of the ingredients on the sandwiches.

"What did he believe about Mom?" Nate asked.

His grandmother froze. Her eyes darted up to his face in surprise and with a touch of fear. "Your father is sick, dear heart. What he thought doesn't matter, because it wasn't true."

"He thought she was a -- a witch, didn't he?" Nate asked. He could hardly breath as he asked that. The words were heavy. Boulders. But each one came out though it was an effort to force them.

"Who told you that?" Her voice was sharp this time.

"Just -- just tell me if that's why he hurt her," Nate said.

"He didn't kill her because she was a witch, Nate," she said firmly. "He killed her because -- because he thought she was possessed by the Devil."

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