The Day Shamani Came free porn video

I hear the shout long before I see him. I am scanning in a four pack of baked beans, midway through sale and conversation with a very nice middle aged lady who is telling me all about the antics of her little black cat Murphy and his three sisters. She is one of my regular customers, one who I see every week without fail. She always comes to my till, no matter how long the queue. It's nice to see a friendly face.

"SILVAN!"

I jump at my name and freeze, the till scans the product two times too many. That is not the name I am known here by and that is not the voice of one of my supervisors. It is a voice I have only ever heard in my dreams. Everyone looks around, the shout was loud enough to be heard over the entire store. One of my fellow cashiers who knows my odd habit of names looks at me warily.

He comes bolting round the corner from the information desk, who have, I assume, refused to tell him where I am. It takes me a second, but it is obvious who this man is. The skin tight suede clothes, the long silver hair flying, the light step, and those beautiful, worrying inverted grey eyes that fix on me from a distance and send my heart into my mouth. Shamani Zirishiri. My hand goes to my throat, feeling not only the silver wolf I always wear but the white crystal on its black ribbon which I put on this morning without quite knowing why. Here is my reason. The beautiful pale man comes to a halt at my till, his hair settling back into place on an unearthly breeze. He is taller than I expected, but just as slim as I saw him in my mind and just as powerful. Storm energy comes rippling off him in lightening crackles.

"Silvan!" He sounds relieved and out of breath and I know that this is an act, Shamani never gets out of breath, mostly because he doesn't need to breathe.

"S-Sha..." I am having trouble saying his name out loud.

"If you had to come away with me now, would you?" My strange angel looks more scared than anything I've ever seen or imagined, "I need your help Silvan."

It's about now that my supervisor comes rushing over. She looks calm and confident. I hate her.

"Eli? What is going on, who is this man?"

I make no attempt at a constructing an answer, let alone a lie.

"Eli, continue with this sale. Sir you will have to leave the store, you are causing a disturbance. We're very sorry madam," she says belatedly to my customer as she takes Shamani's elbow, "This way please sir."

He jerks out of her grip and my customer turns to me.

"Is he a friend of yours dear?"

"Yes."

"Well then..."

Shamani looks me, distraught.

I know what I should do. I have a job, a life. I should finish this sale and continue onto the next one, I should provide wonderful customer service and go home at the end of the day. But I'm looking into Shamani's eyes, eyes I have longed to see. The white pupils, the grey irises, the black whites. Eyes stranger than life.

"Please," he pauses and speaks in a low voice, full of meaning, "My Lord Silvan Arown Elendal. I need you guidance." Magic words and I'm lost.

"Sorry Ma'am," I say to my customer, who merely smiles and nods. I get up, leaving the sale and the till exactly as they are. My supervisor grabs hold of me.

"Where do you think your going?"

I rip my arm from her grip.

"I'm needed," I said, then turned to my black clad saviour, "You'd better have some more clothes for me, where are we going?"

Shamani smiles.

"Kieran needs us, he's lost."

In that moment the chase begins and all thoughts of continuing my former life have fled from my brain, I doubt they will ever return.

At the door Shamani scoops up the straps of a black duffel bag and we head on to the train station. There isn't any time to wait as the train pulls in just as we get there. Two minutes later we are flying towards London. In those ten minutes my brain frantically searches for any scrap of sanity that remains and fails. Huge numbers of mundane questions flap through my mind on leathery wings. Shamani is filling my vision, his aura silver laced with gold and black and blue and pulsating with his breaths. He commanders us a set of four seats with a table and hands over the bag to me. I head towards the toilets to change.

It seems that my strange friend has already taken the liberty of going to my house and picking up my stuff, he has chosen the selection with remarkable cleverness on his part. I wonder if my mind has been read. This is what I would take if I were me. In the narrow cubicle I scramble into my favourite black jeans, well worn brown Bellx1 t-shirt and my big black Rammstein hoody. He's also packed by walking boots, extra socks, and a few more t-shirts. I smile, slip on fingerless gloves and pocket wallet, knives and phone. He's also slipped in my slim grey backpack. The front section is full of various sweets and chocolate, two bottles of water in the side pockets and my passport. In the main section have been carefully packed my red Calgary fleece blanket, big enough for three, my journal and pens and the only book I cannot live without. Venus As A Boy. Shamani knows me better than he ought.

I slip into the seat opposite him and break open a chocolate bar. I offer him some, but he refuses. He has tied back his hair, plaiting the heavy length into a single braid, which lays coiled around his neck like a dormant snake. Shamani's hair falls almost to his ankles.

"How did you find me?"

Shamani gazes levelly at me, knowing I already know the answer.

"I always know where you are. And you helped me. You wore Zirishiri."

I clutch again at the crystal round my neck. It belongs to Sha, this I have always known but never really understood until know, as his slender fingered hands, deathly pale and translucent, undo the black studs at his collar, parting the front of the suede shirt. The sight of his skin, taught smooth and velvety makes me gulp. At the base of his throat is a white mark like a burn. It looks like a star. It is where Zirishiri should be hanging. I remove the pendant from my neck and very cautiously place the loop of the ribbon round his neck. He tightens it and the crystal hangs in place. He buttons his shirt back up.

"Thank you," His voice is soft and low, respectful and grateful. I want to hold the warmth of it in my hands and press it to my chest until it melts into my skin.

He rummages around inside the duffel at his side, searching hidden compartments I had not thought to look in. He brings out a pocket guide of London which I take without a word. Two pale, beautiful silver daggers are pushed toward me across the table. I take them quickly. They are enclosed in black leather sheaths, designed to hang inside my boots. I secure them, marvelling at how well they conceal themselves.

"Those two are real, they can be seen by anyone, this however can only be seen by people like us."

From a brown leather sheath on the table between us he draws the most beautiful dagger I've ever seen.

"Where did you get that?"

Shamani smiles.

"I stole it from your imagination."

This is the knife given to Kieran and I by Clef over a year ago now. It is beautiful, unusually long, almost a dirk, and gently curved. The blade is silver and the hilt is bound in blood red leather. A winged star is carved into the blade near the base and a glowing gem is mounted within it. The hilt is decorated with golden sun rays falling on oriental enamelled smoke clouds My mouth forms a silent 'o', for while this is my knife, it is a surreal gift of figment air. A wish for a gift, not a solid object. Now I curve my hand around it, aware of just how weird this must look to anyone watching and feel the weight of it. I slip the dagger back in its sheath and strap it to my side.

We spend the rest of the journey in silence. Shamani has our tickets and I sit staring at the scenery flashing by, knees drawn up to my chest, thinking. With my headphones on, rock and metal blasting away, I feel detached from this midmorning Saturday train ride. What have I done? I've abandoned my job, my family; my mother will be there to pick me up in an hour and I won't be there, my friends, what's going to happen to them, to me? How is Shamani here? As far as I know he has never existed before in the corporeal. His former form was without weight of substance. He sits stock still in his seat, back straight, eyes closed, hands spread palms down on the table before him. He has become a statue. This all seems so unreal, like a dream. I feel like I'm not here. If I reached out to touch him, I'm sure his image would vanish as quickly as he appeared. I watch the abandoned Battersea Power station drift by and remember my dream at turning it into a huge hotel-club for goths, gays, ponces and anyone else I deem worthy. It would be lovely. The sky is clouded over.

In Victoria I start to worry. The bustle and rush seems to be everywhere but us. The crowd parts and splits without anyone noticing, giving us our own personal space. Are we still real? Have I died?

"Wait!" I stop and someone collide with me, almost knocking me to the floor. Shamani turns to look at me, a bundle of limbs, picking myself up and brushing the dust off my jeans. People still part around him like a pebble in a stream.

"Are you real? Can you be seen?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

He doesn't even blink, just walks up to the nearest stationary person, staring at the timetable and asks what the time is. Just like anyone else would be, he is impatiently directed to the large clock on the wall. The digits are four feet high in fluorescent yellow. Shamani shrugs at me. It is proof enough as someone bangs their suitcase on wheels into his legs and moves on without apologising.

I approach him.

"I know what you're doing."

"Of course you do," He isn't being condescending, that's not his way.

"You're predicting their movements, you're using the Way aren't you?"

Shamani gives me a roguish smile.

"Only a little bit."

We continue to walk through the station, taking the tube to Kensington. Where there is enough air to talk and breath at the same time, we make a weird conversation.

"It's all true isn't it?"

"You've always known it so haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why does it surprise you?"

"I wasn't having doubts." My hot answer is a lie.

"Indeed."

"Then where is he?"

"Who?"

"Kieran."

"I told you, lost."

"But I thought he was with me."

"No. You could only feel him."

"He didn't feel afraid."

"He doesn't know he's lost yet."

"Oh," then, "And everyone else?"

"All in their separate houses. Some are here."

"In London?"

"On Earth."

"What about Kasumi?"

He freezes and I judge that this is still a sensitive topic. I cover with something else.

"Where are your wings?"

"Hiding, I wanted to keep us from being arrested. I hope you don't mind."

"What about me?"

He frowns.

"Do I have my powers?"

"Just look at yourself."

He waves me to a reflective window and I look between the crowd to find myself. And I do. Eighteen years old with shoulder blade length brown hair and acid green eyes. And taller, and male. Slim and holding myself proudly. Oh gods... I pull aside my blue wristband to find a white scar across my wrist, one that wasn't there this morning, and in the middle of the street I lift my shirt to stare at the wolf's head tattoo silhouetted against a black moon on my flat hip. Oh shit...

"Welcome to the new world Sir." Shamani smiles and I follow him home, too bewildered and scared to do anything else. I just got what I always wished for.

The Kensington apartment is everything I knew it would be. Big, clean and stylishly bare. There are plenty of personal touches, but everything about this place speaks of someone who isn't here often. Everything is top of the range and ultra modern, but then I always knew Shamani had a lot of money. As the door swings shut behind us Shamani removes his suede shirt and flings it into the washing basket just inside the bathroom door. With a strange sticky splitting sound his wings appear, from out of his back or nowhere, I'm not sure. He's probably been hiding them in another dimension. They are huge, bigger than he is tall, and jet black with long wide feathers. They are the most graceful things I have ever seen. He flaps them open, although flap is far to crude a word to describe the movement. They move like liquid silk. Shamani turns to face me.

"What do you think?

I make a small "uungh" noise, looking at him semi naked is doing strange things to my new anatomy.

He shows me around the apartment. Big living room, spotlessly clean kitchen, bathroom, and Shamani's room complete with impossibly large white bed. He needs the space for his wings. There are three spare rooms, the largest of which already seems to be inhabited, although no one is there. The next room is mine. It is decorated in plain off white with a big double bed, a desk and very little else. I plead exhaustion and Shamani leaves me be. I pull off my boots and hoody, drop my bag and fall onto the bed. I'm not really tired. As I curl up I can hear Shamani moving about in the other rooms, starting to do things about dinner. I don't know what I've got myself into. Before I know it my vision is clouded, green eyes shrouded in silent tears I cannot control. Big boys don't cry. I let them course down my cheeks. Scared and excited all at once. There is so much I don't understand.

I think I eventually fall asleep because I open my eyes what seems like hours later to find Shamani staring back at me. He smiles softly and my eyes focus on a shadow behind him. There is a boy standing in the doorway. He is about my age with fair skin, jet black eyes and long raven black hair. He loops some of it behind his left ear and I see the long burn scar running down his neck. Beautiful, scarred Draven. His face breaks into a grin.

"Sil!" he comes forward, Takes my shoulders and embraces me like a long lost brother, "It's so good to finally see you."

"And you Draven," I reply, "How have you been?"

As I already knew Draven was badly injured at Christmas in a snowboarding accident. All the broken bones are fixed now, but he has a metal plate in his back where his shoulder blade snapped. He pulls his shirt up and turns around to show me the neat little scar, so very different from the ruin on his neck that only serves to make him more hand some. Dinner is ready and we eat it in the kitchen, sitting on stools at the little breakfast bar.

Draven wolfs down two burgers and chips drowned in ketchup. Shamani eats slowly at a plate of freshly carved fruits and some spiced apple. I hardly have the heart to eat, but the steaming pile of honey ribs is too much temptation and my empty stomach gets the better of me. In half an hour all the bones are picked perfectly clean. I let the last one fall to the plate and begin licking my fingers. Draven goes to watch TV and I help Shamani clear away. Draven's easy touchy-feely manner has made something painfully clear to me. Shamani has not yet touched me.

"Sha?" I somehow cannot bring myself to say his full name, "Why is this happening?"

He flexes and shrugs with his wings while running the water to wash up, there is no point putting so little in the dishwasher.

"There is a time for everything. Your time is now."

My eyes widen slightly and I feel him, pressing against my mind. Slowly I reach out mentally and take hold of his presence. Kieran can read thoughts, I can only sense emotions, but Shamani is closed to me, I meet a cold hard wall in his head. I don't have the will or the power to block out his invasion and instead I open the flood gates on my subconscious and let him in. All my hopes and fears lain out for his delectation. There is one hovering above all the others.

"Silvan. There is a full moon tonight. You will Turn. You know the rules."

Of course. I am bitter. I have full control over when I change except for tonight. Tonight I must Turn. It is law.

"It will be hard for you. You've never Turned before."

I nod gritting my teeth, prepared to wait out the long evening ahead.

It gets dark around nine these days and by that time I am in my room, having said goodnight to the two in the living room. I can hear the sound of the TV blasting out rock videos. I strip out of all my clothes, fold them and get onto the bed. I lie on my front with my arms above my head and measure my breaths. I've no idea how to make myself change, not yet, I'm still getting used to my body. I'll have to wait for the moon to take hold of me.

It happens so fast I am breathless. The moons energy, coming from somewhere since there are clouds tonight and the blinds are closed, hits me and makes my heart stop. Every nerve on fire, every muscle screaming. I almost don't notice that I raise my head and roar at the ceiling. Then someone is beside me, I feel Shamani covering my body with his own, wrapping strong arms around my shaking form as the change takes hold for the first time of my life. His presence at my back is warm, reassuring and without words, without thoughts I feel the enchantment in his skin, that left over Angelic power. It tells me in silent white noise that everything will be fine, he'll protect me. I go blind, I lose all feeling and then after an eternity in the dark numb blackness of my soul everything rushes back ten fold. Shamani lets me go and stands up. I raise my head, very slowly, And look in the mirror at myself.

A wolf. A big wolf, but a wolf. I have grey fur and a black stripe running from my moist nose to my tail. My eyes are burning red, like I always knew they'd be. I yawn and try to stand, suddenly having to coordinate four feet and a tail. I can feel my ears swivel and twitch. This is amazing. Silently I look at Shamani and ask a question which he answers out loud.

"More concentration is needed to get your half wolf form, you need more practice. Stay like this tonight. Come, join us." Shamani turns to go and I jump down off the bed and walk with him, though not at his heels. This close to the ground I can see clearly, that Shamani's bare feet do not quite touch the ground.

Draven makes a big fuss of me and pets my ears. I curl up with him on the sofa, enjoying this easy intimacy. I can't watch the television and I find that I have to actively tune into the conversation. There are so many new smells and sounds. I can hear car doors slamming several streets away. A ladybird is walking across the leaf of a potted plant next door. Eventually it is time to go to bed and almost automatically I follow Draven into his room. He gets changed, almost unaware of me as he strips off and gets into bed. I leap up and curl into a furry ball at the end of the bed. He grunts and rolls over.

"Sil?"

I lift my head and cock an ear towards him.

"What are you doing down there?"

I take this as a sign that I've done wrong and slink off the bed. I can't leave the room though, the door is closed.

"Come here," Draven says sleepily and opens his arms. In my mind I smile and thank him, curling up with him snuggled against my back.

It is warm when I wake. I yawn, my eyes closed. Sunlight plays softly on my eyelids and I don't want to get up. There is a strange feeling in my head. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips are dry. A slowly growing pulsating desire pulls up through me and suddenly I understand a little more fully the problem with being male in the mornings. I run my hands down my body. And my eyes fly open. I have a hard on, and I'm naked, and human and lying with Draven in my arms. As I try and move he presses back into my unconscious embrace, and makes a small sleepy noise.

I'm shit scared and I try to pull away too quickly. He wakes with a snort and turns his head, long hair flopping everywhere to look at me.

"Mornin' pretty one," he murmurs, "You sleep OK?"

I can't speak and I can feel the blush spread across my cheeks. Realisation dawns on him and he smiles. Draven snakes a hand down in between us and touches me gently. My back stiffens. Oh gods... His hand on me feels fantastic but I'm still scared and shaking a little. Where did he learn to do that? It takes all my self control to pull away from him saying;

"No... stop, wait Draven..."

He stops and let's go, rolling over to look at me, his hand lingering on my thigh.

"Sil?"

I'm fighting back sudden tears, too confused to move, and too scared of rejection to stop him if his tries to touch me again. He doesn't, but pulls me into a tight embrace, much like he did when I was a wolf.

"It's OK Sil, you don't have to be scared." My hot tears land on his shoulder and I dig short blunt fingernails into the muscle of his back. He pulls back to look at me and wipes my tears with his thumbs. I sniff and look away from those intense black eyes. Draven takes my chin and makes me look at him.

"Maybe you should, y'know," he searches for the right words, "Find out about your body for yourself yeah?"

I nod mutely and Draven lends me his dressing gown while I run across the hallway to my own room to get dressed.

Turns out that Shamani has gone to work, leaving us a note with a short list of jobs to do and a parting message that simply says 'don't worry'. Part of me wants to hit my absent companion. I came because Kieran was in trouble, and now I'm being made to wait. We eat breakfast in a slightly uncomfortable silence and Draven takes me shopping. With my new body, the clothes I brought with me don't really fit that well anymore. I'm kitted out with the full set, t-shirts, jeans, jacket, a full black suit with three shirts and four ties and new shoes, black leather boots and a long black coat. It is hot in the city and we spend half an hour in a little café watching everyone rush by. Draven seems easy and confident, a stark comparison to my still shattered nerves.

Most strange is the people of the city. I always knew they were there, I could sense them, just a little bit, hazy colours showing up on my radar. But now I can see clearly. A twelve foot long snake with green eyes and blue scales swims along the Serpentine river, a child of the leviathan that lives beneath. There are human-esque animal hybrids, people with wings who are not angels and many more besides. We are approached by a sharp suited vampire and asked for directions. When he sees me he smiles and brings me greeting from his clan, the long name of which I do not catch. This continues and I am approached by many of these other worldly creatures and given greetings. I've almost forgotten why. A little boy, barely ten years old who looks human enough to me strolls down the road holding a smoking black demon's hand and chattering away. The demon smiles at me with scarlet eyes as we pass.

Back at Shamani's beautiful apartment I shower while Draven makes coffee. Washing my new body kind of brings the changes I have under gone into a more harsh light. I am amazed by myself, the hard muscle and bone, the new scars and the odd rat's tail of hair that trails up to my navel. I try desperately to ignore the weight that hangs between my thighs. When I emerge, drippy but clean in non-descript black from my room Draven is talking to somebody. I catch a flash of white above the back of the sofa.

"Ade?" The angelic looking demon stands up and greets me with a massive smile.

"Silvan my dear!" He takes my hand and kisses the knuckle gently, "Welcome back. It is so good to see you again." I don't react to this, obviously there are memories of my own I do not posses yet. Dressed all in shining white robes Ade sits forwards at the edge of the sofa, his wings folded to one side, The silver feathers fascinate me and I long to touch them. I don't, knowing who sensitive and intimate that would be. The conversation loses me quickly and I drift off into day dreams and finally exhausted sleep.

"He just went," Draven's voice, sounding concerned but not worried.

"He's exhausted," Shamani, with cool confidence, "His Turn took a lot out of him. Poor thing. I'm not so surprised."

"He seemed really out of it today."

"He's just confused. Has he eaten?"

I can almost hear Draven's uneasy silence.

"We didn't get round to lunch."

Shamani sighs and a moment later I hear him leave the room. Draven's hand is warm against my cheek. I can feel his breath, he must be close. His lips are on mine and before I even register the movement I've opened up to him and the quick flicker of his questing tongue. He breaks the kiss and I open my eyes and sit up. I've been taken back to my own bed.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," he says, "You OK?"

My stomach growls loudly, answering for me.

"Ade left a couple of hours ago. He sends his love and gives you this." Draven hands me a little silver box with curling vines carved into it. It is lined with purple velvet and inside are two feathers. One of Ade's long and silver and one of his younger brother's. Nassau's feather is orange gold and bronze, a wish feather. There is also a large gold coin like a medallion. On one side are a pair of wings on the other, crossed swords and fire. The only word around the rim reads 'Lucifer'. I smile weakly. This is a gift from their father, the man himself.

"Nice," murmurs Draven with a short smile, "Dinner soon, come on kiddo."

Shamani is not quite as I expected him to be. Something was lost or gained in his transition from dream to reality. He has always been real, I've just never seen him in the flesh before. He is cold, distant and aloof. It seems that our contact last night was a one off for he does not touch me, in fact he actively avoids all physical contact, keeping very clearly to himself and staring out the long minutes in silence. I know he is not like others of this world. He sees everything differently, his vision compromised by his experience of the Way, something that can never be blocked out completely, and tainted by the huge amount of time he has lived. Though his face and body are youthful, Shamani's soul has been around for years beyond my reckoning. I cannot imagine how he has lived this long with so little love. What puts my back up is how easy he is with Draven, his companion of only a few short years. He will touch Draven's shoulder and he will allow himself to be drawn into that embrace. For Draven he will even flash a rare smile. I am not on the receiving end of his smiles. Yesterday's humour has given way to his usual morose nature. I am annoyed, I thought he would be more open with me.

The surreal nature of the life I am now living takes hold when the phone rings and I answer it unthinkingly to hold a five minute conversation with a woman called Baal who is apparently a leopard. I hand the phone to Shamani and go and lie down.

Shamani has to go out a while later and Draven paces around for a while before appearing in my doorway. I am lying on my bed, reading the only book I now have. It is a great comfort. I have read this book far too many times. It is an obsession and while I've never read anything else by this author I would hail him as a god. But I know better.

We walk around the flat together in a strange sort of way. I'm drifting, not quite sure of where or when or who I am. Despite his technologically perfect apartment Shamani owns no music or films. Neither of us feel like reading anything anymore.

"You wanna go out?"

"Are we allowed?"

"Sure, I have house keys, and its goth night at Ozun."

"I've nothing to wear."

Draven smiles.

"I'll get you kitted out."

Inside the club it is loud and crowded and perfect. This is what I need, to do something normal and teenager-esque. It's easy to get lost in the music that is so loud in makes the air inside my lungs vibrate. Draven has dressed me all in black with the boots I got this morning plus nail polish and eye liner. The eye shadow I'm wearing is silver-white like the denim collar round my neck and the cuffs on my wrists. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, the usual short bits flapping near my eyes. Ozun has four floors, the top one a quiet floor, all soft lighting and cushions, the rest are harshly goth and loud as anything. Draven asks if I want to dance, having to yell in my ear. I don't. He gestures to his phone and smiles at be before walking off. I neglect to tell him I haven't got mine on me.

Whiskey shots at the bar followed by a long cold something with apple liquor in. The girl along the bar, a pretty little goth thing, buys me another and we talk, mostly lip reading when even yelling isn't loud enough. Eventually she pulls me onto the dance floor. I'm a gawky kid all over again, totally unsure of where to put my hands or where to look since the UV lights have made her top really see through which I think was the intention. Next song starts up and there's a mosh pit all around us, she drags me away to the bar again and just as I'm starting to feel like an accessory someone's arms snake round me from behind. I tilt my face up to see deep hazel-blue eyes staring down at me. The vampire Ranyah smiles a white fanged smile and whisks me away to the next floor. All the lights in here are red and the music is heavier all round. We go over to a little round table where Ranyah is sharing a bottle of JD with his companion, the fiery haired Reid who, a year or so later down the line, is looking very comfortable in black and chains. Ranyah swigs every now and then from a slim silver hipflask. He offers it to me and hunger like nothing I've ever known unfurls deep in my belly. The blood on my tongue is surprisingly warm, my vision goes cloudy with just that one sip. Ranyah takes the flask back.

I hear the shout long before I see him. I am scanning in a four pack of baked beans, midway through sale and conversation with a very nice middle aged lady who is telling me all about the antics of her little black cat Murphy and his three sisters. She is one of my regular customers, one who I see every week without fail. She always comes to my till, no matter how long the queue. It's nice to see a friendly face.

"SILVAN!"

I jump at my name and freeze, the till scans the product two times too many. That is not the name I am known here by and that is not the voice of one of my supervisors. It is a voice I have only ever heard in my dreams. Everyone looks around, the shout was loud enough to be heard over the entire store. One of my fellow cashiers who knows my odd habit of names looks at me warily.

He comes bolting round the corner from the information desk, who have, I assume, refused to tell him where I am. It takes me a second, but it is obvious who this man is. The skin tight suede clothes, the long silver hair flying, the light step, and those beautiful, worrying inverted grey eyes that fix on me from a distance and send my heart into my mouth. Shamani Zirishiri. My hand goes to my throat, feeling not only the silver wolf I always wear but the white crystal on its black ribbon which I put on this morning without quite knowing why. Here is my reason. The beautiful pale man comes to a halt at my till, his hair settling back into place on an unearthly breeze. He is taller than I expected, but just as slim as I saw him in my mind and just as powerful. Storm energy comes rippling off him in lightening crackles.

"Silvan!" He sounds relieved and out of breath and I know that this is an act, Shamani never gets out of breath, mostly because he doesn't need to breathe.

"S-Sha..." I am having trouble saying his name out loud.

"If you had to come away with me now, would you?" My strange angel looks more scared than anything I've ever seen or imagined, "I need your help Silvan."

It's about now that my supervisor comes rushing over. She looks calm and confident. I hate her.

"Eli? What is going on, who is this man?"

I make no attempt at a constructing an answer, let alone a lie.

"Eli, continue with this sale. Sir you will have to leave the store, you are causing a disturbance. We're very sorry madam," she says belatedly to my customer as she takes Shamani's elbow, "This way please sir."

He jerks out of her grip and my customer turns to me.

"Is he a friend of yours dear?"

"Yes."

"Well then..."

Shamani looks me, distraught.

I know what I should do. I have a job, a life. I should finish this sale and continue onto the next one, I should provide wonderful customer service and go home at the end of the day. But I'm looking into Shamani's eyes, eyes I have longed to see. The white pupils, the grey irises, the black whites. Eyes stranger than life.

"Please," he pauses and speaks in a low voice, full of meaning, "My Lord Silvan Arown Elendal. I need you guidance." Magic words and I'm lost.

"Sorry Ma'am," I say to my customer, who merely smiles and nods. I get up, leaving the sale and the till exactly as they are. My supervisor grabs hold of me.

"Where do you think your going?"

I rip my arm from her grip.

"I'm needed," I said, then turned to my black clad saviour, "You'd better have some more clothes for me, where are we going?"

Shamani smiles.

"Kieran needs us, he's lost."

In that moment the chase begins and all thoughts of continuing my former life have fled from my brain, I doubt they will ever return.

At the door Shamani scoops up the straps of a black duffel bag and we head on to the train station. There isn't any time to wait as the train pulls in just as we get there. Two minutes later we are flying towards London. In those ten minutes my brain frantically searches for any scrap of sanity that remains and fails. Huge numbers of mundane questions flap through my mind on leathery wings. Shamani is filling my vision, his aura silver laced with gold and black and blue and pulsating with his breaths. He commanders us a set of four seats with a table and hands over the bag to me. I head towards the toilets to change.

It seems that my strange friend has already taken the liberty of going to my house and picking up my stuff, he has chosen the selection with remarkable cleverness on his part. I wonder if my mind has been read. This is what I would take if I were me. In the narrow cubicle I scramble into my favourite black jeans, well worn brown Bellx1 t-shirt and my big black Rammstein hoody. He's also packed by walking boots, extra socks, and a few more t-shirts. I smile, slip on fingerless gloves and pocket wallet, knives and phone. He's also slipped in my slim grey backpack. The front section is full of various sweets and chocolate, two bottles of water in the side pockets and my passport. In the main section have been carefully packed my red Calgary fleece blanket, big enough for three, my journal and pens and the only book I cannot live without. Venus As A Boy. Shamani knows me better than he ought.

I slip into the seat opposite him and break open a chocolate bar. I offer him some, but he refuses. He has tied back his hair, plaiting the heavy length into a single braid, which lays coiled around his neck like a dormant snake. Shamani's hair falls almost to his ankles.

"How did you find me?"

Shamani gazes levelly at me, knowing I already know the answer.

"I always know where you are. And you helped me. You wore Zirishiri."

I clutch again at the crystal round my neck. It belongs to Sha, this I have always known but never really understood until know, as his slender fingered hands, deathly pale and translucent, undo the black studs at his collar, parting the front of the suede shirt. The sight of his skin, taught smooth and velvety makes me gulp. At the base of his throat is a white mark like a burn. It looks like a star. It is where Zirishiri should be hanging. I remove the pendant from my neck and very cautiously place the loop of the ribbon round his neck. He tightens it and the crystal hangs in place. He buttons his shirt back up.

"Thank you," His voice is soft and low, respectful and grateful. I want to hold the warmth of it in my hands and press it to my chest until it melts into my skin.

He rummages around inside the duffel at his side, searching hidden compartments I had not thought to look in. He brings out a pocket guide of London which I take without a word. Two pale, beautiful silver daggers are pushed toward me across the table. I take them quickly. They are enclosed in black leather sheaths, designed to hang inside my boots. I secure them, marvelling at how well they conceal themselves.

"Those two are real, they can be seen by anyone, this however can only be seen by people like us."

From a brown leather sheath on the table between us he draws the most beautiful dagger I've ever seen.

"Where did you get that?"

Shamani smiles.

"I stole it from your imagination."

This is the knife given to Kieran and I by Clef over a year ago now. It is beautiful, unusually long, almost a dirk, and gently curved. The blade is silver and the hilt is bound in blood red leather. A winged star is carved into the blade near the base and a glowing gem is mounted within it. The hilt is decorated with golden sun rays falling on oriental enamelled smoke clouds My mouth forms a silent 'o', for while this is my knife, it is a surreal gift of figment air. A wish for a gift, not a solid object. Now I curve my hand around it, aware of just how weird this must look to anyone watching and feel the weight of it. I slip the dagger back in its sheath and strap it to my side.

We spend the rest of the journey in silence. Shamani has our tickets and I sit staring at the scenery flashing by, knees drawn up to my chest, thinking. With my headphones on, rock and metal blasting away, I feel detached from this midmorning Saturday train ride. What have I done? I've abandoned my job, my family; my mother will be there to pick me up in an hour and I won't be there, my friends, what's going to happen to them, to me? How is Shamani here? As far as I know he has never existed before in the corporeal. His former form was without weight of substance. He sits stock still in his seat, back straight, eyes closed, hands spread palms down on the table before him. He has become a statue. This all seems so unreal, like a dream. I feel like I'm not here. If I reached out to touch him, I'm sure his image would vanish as quickly as he appeared. I watch the abandoned Battersea Power station drift by and remember my dream at turning it into a huge hotel-club for goths, gays, ponces and anyone else I deem worthy. It would be lovely. The sky is clouded over.

In Victoria I start to worry. The bustle and rush seems to be everywhere but us. The crowd parts and splits without anyone noticing, giving us our own personal space. Are we still real? Have I died?

"Wait!" I stop and someone collide with me, almost knocking me to the floor. Shamani turns to look at me, a bundle of limbs, picking myself up and brushing the dust off my jeans. People still part around him like a pebble in a stream.

"Are you real? Can you be seen?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

He doesn't even blink, just walks up to the nearest stationary person, staring at the timetable and asks what the time is. Just like anyone else would be, he is impatiently directed to the large clock on the wall. The digits are four feet high in fluorescent yellow. Shamani shrugs at me. It is proof enough as someone bangs their suitcase on wheels into his legs and moves on without apologising.

I approach him.

"I know what you're doing."

"Of course you do," He isn't being condescending, that's not his way.

"You're predicting their movements, you're using the Way aren't you?"

Shamani gives me a roguish smile.

"Only a little bit."

We continue to walk through the station, taking the tube to Kensington. Where there is enough air to talk and breath at the same time, we make a weird conversation.

"It's all true isn't it?"

"You've always known it so haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why does it surprise you?"

"I wasn't having doubts." My hot answer is a lie.

"Indeed."

"Then where is he?"

"Who?"

"Kieran."

"I told you, lost."

"But I thought he was with me."

"No. You could only feel him."

"He didn't feel afraid."

"He doesn't know he's lost yet."

"Oh," then, "And everyone else?"

"All in their separate houses. Some are here."

"In London?"

"On Earth."

"What about Kasumi?"

He freezes and I judge that this is still a sensitive topic. I cover with something else.

"Where are your wings?"

"Hiding, I wanted to keep us from being arrested. I hope you don't mind."

"What about me?"

He frowns.

"Do I have my powers?"

"Just look at yourself."

He waves me to a reflective window and I look between the crowd to find myself. And I do. Eighteen years old with shoulder blade length brown hair and acid green eyes. And taller, and male. Slim and holding myself proudly. Oh gods... I pull aside my blue wristband to find a white scar across my wrist, one that wasn't there this morning, and in the middle of the street I lift my shirt to stare at the wolf's head tattoo silhouetted against a black moon on my flat hip. Oh shit...

"Welcome to the new world Sir." Shamani smiles and I follow him home, too bewildered and scared to do anything else. I just got what I always wished for.

The Kensington apartment is everything I knew it would be. Big, clean and stylishly bare. There are plenty of personal touches, but everything about this place speaks of someone who isn't here often. Everything is top of the range and ultra modern, but then I always knew Shamani had a lot of money. As the door swings shut behind us Shamani removes his suede shirt and flings it into the washing basket just inside the bathroom door. With a strange sticky splitting sound his wings appear, from out of his back or nowhere, I'm not sure. He's probably been hiding them in another dimension. They are huge, bigger than he is tall, and jet black with long wide feathers. They are the most graceful things I have ever seen. He flaps them open, although flap is far to crude a word to describe the movement. They move like liquid silk. Shamani turns to face me.

"What do you think?

I make a small "uungh" noise, looking at him semi naked is doing strange things to my new anatomy.

He shows me around the apartment. Big living room, spotlessly clean kitchen, bathroom, and Shamani's room complete with impossibly large white bed. He needs the space for his wings. There are three spare rooms, the largest of which already seems to be inhabited, although no one is there. The next room is mine. It is decorated in plain off white with a big double bed, a desk and very little else. I plead exhaustion and Shamani leaves me be. I pull off my boots and hoody, drop my bag and fall onto the bed. I'm not really tired. As I curl up I can hear Shamani moving about in the other rooms, starting to do things about dinner. I don't know what I've got myself into. Before I know it my vision is clouded, green eyes shrouded in silent tears I cannot control. Big boys don't cry. I let them course down my cheeks. Scared and excited all at once. There is so much I don't understand.

I think I eventually fall asleep because I open my eyes what seems like hours later to find Shamani staring back at me. He smiles softly and my eyes focus on a shadow behind him. There is a boy standing in the doorway. He is about my age with fair skin, jet black eyes and long raven black hair. He loops some of it behind his left ear and I see the long burn scar running down his neck. Beautiful, scarred Draven. His face breaks into a grin.

"Sil!" he comes forward, Takes my shoulders and embraces me like a long lost brother, "It's so good to finally see you."

"And you Draven," I reply, "How have you been?"

As I already knew Draven was badly injured at Christmas in a snowboarding accident. All the broken bones are fixed now, but he has a metal plate in his back where his shoulder blade snapped. He pulls his shirt up and turns around to show me the neat little scar, so very different from the ruin on his neck that only serves to make him more hand some. Dinner is ready and we eat it in the kitchen, sitting on stools at the little breakfast bar.

Draven wolfs down two burgers and chips drowned in ketchup. Shamani eats slowly at a plate of freshly carved fruits and some spiced apple. I hardly have the heart to eat, but the steaming pile of honey ribs is too much temptation and my empty stomach gets the better of me. In half an hour all the bones are picked perfectly clean. I let the last one fall to the plate and begin licking my fingers. Draven goes to watch TV and I help Shamani clear away. Draven's easy touchy-feely manner has made something painfully clear to me. Shamani has not yet touched me.

"Sha?" I somehow cannot bring myself to say his full name, "Why is this happening?"

He flexes and shrugs with his wings while running the water to wash up, there is no point putting so little in the dishwasher.

"There is a time for everything. Your time is now."

My eyes widen slightly and I feel him, pressing against my mind. Slowly I reach out mentally and take hold of his presence. Kieran can read thoughts, I can only sense emotions, but Shamani is closed to me, I meet a cold hard wall in his head. I don't have the will or the power to block out his invasion and instead I open the flood gates on my subconscious and let him in. All my hopes and fears lain out for his delectation. There is one hovering above all the others.

"Silvan. There is a full moon tonight. You will Turn. You know the rules."

Of course. I am bitter. I have full control over when I change except for tonight. Tonight I must Turn. It is law.

"It will be hard for you. You've never Turned before."

I nod gritting my teeth, prepared to wait out the long evening ahead.

It gets dark around nine these days and by that time I am in my room, having said goodnight to the two in the living room. I can hear the sound of the TV blasting out rock videos. I strip out of all my clothes, fold them and get onto the bed. I lie on my front with my arms above my head and measure my breaths. I've no idea how to make myself change, not yet, I'm still getting used to my body. I'll have to wait for the moon to take hold of me.

It happens so fast I am breathless. The moons energy, coming from somewhere since there are clouds tonight and the blinds are closed, hits me and makes my heart stop. Every nerve on fire, every muscle screaming. I almost don't notice that I raise my head and roar at the ceiling. Then someone is beside me, I feel Shamani covering my body with his own, wrapping strong arms around my shaking form as the change takes hold for the first time of my life. His presence at my back is warm, reassuring and without words, without thoughts I feel the enchantment in his skin, that left over Angelic power. It tells me in silent white noise that everything will be fine, he'll protect me. I go blind, I lose all feeling and then after an eternity in the dark numb blackness of my soul everything rushes back ten fold. Shamani lets me go and stands up. I raise my head, very slowly, And look in the mirror at myself.

A wolf. A big wolf, but a wolf. I have grey fur and a black stripe running from my moist nose to my tail. My eyes are burning red, like I always knew they'd be. I yawn and try to stand, suddenly having to coordinate four feet and a tail. I can feel my ears swivel and twitch. This is amazing. Silently I look at Shamani and ask a question which he answers out loud.

"More concentration is needed to get your half wolf form, you need more practice. Stay like this tonight. Come, join us." Shamani turns to go and I jump down off the bed and walk with him, though not at his heels. This close to the ground I can see clearly, that Shamani's bare feet do not quite touch the ground.

Draven makes a big fuss of me and pets my ears. I curl up with him on the sofa, enjoying this easy intimacy. I can't watch the television and I find that I have to actively tune into the conversation. There are so many new smells and sounds. I can hear car doors slamming several streets away. A ladybird is walking across the leaf of a potted plant next door. Eventually it is time to go to bed and almost automatically I follow Draven into his room. He gets changed, almost unaware of me as he strips off and gets into bed. I leap up and curl into a furry ball at the end of the bed. He grunts and rolls over.

"Sil?"

I lift my head and cock an ear towards him.

"What are you doing down there?"

I take this as a sign that I've done wrong and slink off the bed. I can't leave the room though, the door is closed.

"Come here," Draven says sleepily and opens his arms. In my mind I smile and thank him, curling up with him snuggled against my back.

It is warm when I wake. I yawn, my eyes closed. Sunlight plays softly on my eyelids and I don't want to get up. There is a strange feeling in my head. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips are dry. A slowly growing pulsating desire pulls up through me and suddenly I understand a little more fully the problem with being male in the mornings. I run my hands down my body. And my eyes fly open. I have a hard on, and I'm naked, and human and lying with Draven in my arms. As I try and move he presses back into my unconscious embrace, and makes a small sleepy noise.

I'm shit scared and I try to pull away too quickly. He wakes with a snort and turns his head, long hair flopping everywhere to look at me.

"Mornin' pretty one," he murmurs, "You sleep OK?"

I can't speak and I can feel the blush spread across my cheeks. Realisation dawns on him and he smiles. Draven snakes a hand down in between us and touches me gently. My back stiffens. Oh gods... His hand on me feels fantastic but I'm still scared and shaking a little. Where did he learn to do that? It takes all my self control to pull away from him saying;

"No... stop, wait Draven..."

He stops and let's go, rolling over to look at me, his hand lingering on my thigh.

"Sil?"

I'm fighting back sudden tears, too confused to move, and too scared of rejection to stop him if his tries to touch me again. He doesn't, but pulls me into a tight embrace, much like he did when I was a wolf.

"It's OK Sil, you don't have to be scared." My hot tears land on his shoulder and I dig short blunt fingernails into the muscle of his back. He pulls back to look at me and wipes my tears with his thumbs. I sniff and look away from those intense black eyes. Draven takes my chin and makes me look at him.

"Maybe you should, y'know," he searches for the right words, "Find out about your body for yourself yeah?"

I nod mutely and Draven lends me his dressing gown while I run across the hallway to my own room to get dressed.

Turns out that Shamani has gone to work, leaving us a note with a short list of jobs to do and a parting message that simply says 'don't worry'. Part of me wants to hit my absent companion. I came because Kieran was in trouble, and now I'm being made to wait. We eat breakfast in a slightly uncomfortable silence and Draven takes me shopping. With my new body, the clothes I brought with me don't really fit that well anymore. I'm kitted out with the full set, t-shirts, jeans, jacket, a full black suit with three shirts and four ties and new shoes, black leather boots and a long black coat. It is hot in the city and we spend half an hour in a little café watching everyone rush by. Draven seems easy and confident, a stark comparison to my still shattered nerves.

Most strange is the people of the city. I always knew they were there, I could sense them, just a little bit, hazy colours showing up on my radar. But now I can see clearly. A twelve foot long snake with green eyes and blue scales swims along the Serpentine river, a child of the leviathan that lives beneath. There are human-esque animal hybrids, people with wings who are not angels and many more besides. We are approached by a sharp suited vampire and asked for directions. When he sees me he smiles and brings me greeting from his clan, the long name of which I do not catch. This continues and I am approached by many of these other worldly creatures and given greetings. I've almost forgotten why. A little boy, barely ten years old who looks human enough to me strolls down the road holding a smoking black demon's hand and chattering away. The demon smiles at me with scarlet eyes as we pass.

Back at Shamani's beautiful apartment I shower while Draven makes coffee. Washing my new body kind of brings the changes I have under gone into a more harsh light. I am amazed by myself, the hard muscle and bone, the new scars and the odd rat's tail of hair that trails up to my navel. I try desperately to ignore the weight that hangs between my thighs. When I emerge, drippy but clean in non-descript black from my room Draven is talking to somebody. I catch a flash of white above the back of the sofa.

"Ade?" The angelic looking demon stands up and greets me with a massive smile.

"Silvan my dear!" He takes my hand and kisses the knuckle gently, "Welcome back. It is so good to see you again." I don't react to this, obviously there are memories of my own I do not posses yet. Dressed all in shining white robes Ade sits forwards at the edge of the sofa, his wings folded to one side, The silver feathers fascinate me and I long to touch them. I don't, knowing who sensitive and intimate that would be. The conversation loses me quickly and I drift off into day dreams and finally exhausted sleep.

"He just went," Draven's voice, sounding concerned but not worried.

"He's exhausted," Shamani, with cool confidence, "His Turn took a lot out of him. Poor thing. I'm not so surprised."

"He seemed really out of it today."

"He's just confused. Has he eaten?"

I can almost hear Draven's uneasy silence.

"We didn't get round to lunch."

Shamani sighs and a moment later I hear him leave the room. Draven's hand is warm against my cheek. I can feel his breath, he must be close. His lips are on mine and before I even register the movement I've opened up to him and the quick flicker of his questing tongue. He breaks the kiss and I open my eyes and sit up. I've been taken back to my own bed.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," he says, "You OK?"

My stomach growls loudly, answering for me.

"Ade left a couple of hours ago. He sends his love and gives you this." Draven hands me a little silver box with curling vines carved into it. It is lined with purple velvet and inside are two feathers. One of Ade's long and silver and one of his younger brother's. Nassau's feather is orange gold and bronze, a wish feather. There is also a large gold coin like a medallion. On one side are a pair of wings on the other, crossed swords and fire. The only word around the rim reads 'Lucifer'. I smile weakly. This is a gift from their father, the man himself.

"Nice," murmurs Draven with a short smile, "Dinner soon, come on kiddo."

Shamani is not quite as I expected him to be. Something was lost or gained in his transition from dream to reality. He has always been real, I've just never seen him in the flesh before. He is cold, distant and aloof. It seems that our contact last night was a one off for he does not touch me, in fact he actively avoids all physical contact, keeping very clearly to himself and staring out the long minutes in silence. I know he is not like others of this world. He sees everything differently, his vision compromised by his experience of the Way, something that can never be blocked out completely, and tainted by the huge amount of time he has lived. Though his face and body are youthful, Shamani's soul has been around for years beyond my reckoning. I cannot imagine how he has lived this long with so little love. What puts my back up is how easy he is with Draven, his companion of only a few short years. He will touch Draven's shoulder and he will allow himself to be drawn into that embrace. For Draven he will even flash a rare smile. I am not on the receiving end of his smiles. Yesterday's humour has given way to his usual morose nature. I am annoyed, I thought he would be more open with me.

The surreal nature of the life I am now living takes hold when the phone rings and I answer it unthinkingly to hold a five minute conversation with a woman called Baal who is apparently a leopard. I hand the phone to Shamani and go and lie down.

Shamani has to go out a while later and Draven paces around for a while before appearing in my doorway. I am lying on my bed, reading the only book I now have. It is a great comfort. I have read this book far too many times. It is an obsession and while I've never read anything else by this author I would hail him as a god. But I know better.

We walk around the flat together in a strange sort of way. I'm drifting, not quite sure of where or when or who I am. Despite his technologically perfect apartment Shamani owns no music or films. Neither of us feel like reading anything anymore.

"You wanna go out?"

"Are we allowed?"

"Sure, I have house keys, and its goth night at Ozun."

"I've nothing to wear."

Draven smiles.

"I'll get you kitted out."

Inside the club it is loud and crowded and perfect. This is what I need, to do something normal and teenager-esque. It's easy to get lost in the music that is so loud in makes the air inside my lungs vibrate. Draven has dressed me all in black with the boots I got this morning plus nail polish and eye liner. The eye shadow I'm wearing is silver-white like the denim collar round my neck and the cuffs on my wrists. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, the usual short bits flapping near my eyes. Ozun has four floors, the top one a quiet floor, all soft lighting and cushions, the rest are harshly goth and loud as anything. Draven asks if I want to dance, having to yell in my ear. I don't. He gestures to his phone and smiles at be before walking off. I neglect to tell him I haven't got mine on me.

Whiskey shots at the bar followed by a long cold something with apple liquor in. The girl along the bar, a pretty little goth thing, buys me another and we talk, mostly lip reading when even yelling isn't loud enough. Eventually she pulls me onto the dance floor. I'm a gawky kid all over again, totally unsure of where to put my hands or where to look since the UV lights have made her top really see through which I think was the intention. Next song starts up and there's a mosh pit all around us, she drags me away to the bar again and just as I'm starting to feel like an accessory someone's arms snake round me from behind. I tilt my face up to see deep hazel-blue eyes staring down at me. The vampire Ranyah smiles a white fanged smile and whisks me away to the next floor. All the lights in here are red and the music is heavier all round. We go over to a little round table where Ranyah is sharing a bottle of JD with his companion, the fiery haired Reid who, a year or so later down the line, is looking very comfortable in black and chains. Ranyah swigs every now and then from a slim silver hipflask. He offers it to me and hunger like nothing I've ever known unfurls deep in my belly. The blood on my tongue is surprisingly warm, my vision goes cloudy with just that one sip. Ranyah takes the flask back.

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