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It was catastrophically hot. Stifling. Overwhelming. Clothes clinging unbearably to clammy skin. His grip – slipping. Chest concaving while trying to relieve the weight, the pressure, the tension in his lungs, his throat. Unable to breathe without panting. Suffocating. Exhausting. Fading.
And then –
Nothing.
+++
It started like this:
Ichigo was a tarot card reading witch with a gift for astrology and apparent knack at fighting off demons with holy water and some unappealing cooking.
Grimmjow was the querent, the sap that got roped into Ichigo’s reading thanks to his girlfriend, a gal who loved all things woo. She convinced Grimmjow to get a reading done in the first place.
The one he’d fucked up by panicking over what truth the cards told him.
Grimmjow was also the reason they were fighting for their lives right now.
Can’t forget that.
Grimmjow barely processed what was happening.
The blade of Ichigo’s sword was caught in the monster’s hand. Using its leverage of shock, La Fortuna’s guest-house demon pulled.
Ichigo jerked forward, brought face-to-face with the creature. It smiled.
No struggle – too fast – Ichigo's head snapped against a frame and broke the glass, nearly bringing the whole thing down upon his skull if not for a strong wire. A wide halo of blood seeped into the fireplace.
The demon’s gait was unbalanced as it stalked forward, Grimmjow unable to move. His vocal chords whispered Ichigo’s name, a vain summon as he lay unconscious next to the hearth.
A firm yank removed the blade from its hand, allowing it to freely clatter on the hardwood. Purplish blood oozed from the wound, the creature sneering at Grimmjow’s revolted expression as it licked the fester away. How could it even bleed?
It was pale pale pale of flesh. The faded pallor of a corpse. A lively one at that. Too much so.
Too fleshy for a ghost and colored like the linen its body might lay on. Dirt and grime hung to its lengthy unkempt hair and burial wrappings, as if it’d been buried alive.
It had come out of the soil, out of the earth. Grimmjow felt that in his blood.
The Devil had come to collect.
It leapt, and Grimmjow shouted when its weight collided with his own, pinning him beneath a thick corded body. Not the build of something starved and weak with decay.
It mewled, and stared at him intently.
Grimmjow yelped when its foul tongue made contact with his forehead, eagerly licking off Ichigo’s symbol.
Grimmjow saw fire. His head burned with the ferocity of a firepit, and though fear raced through his veins, sheer anger allowed him enough power to slap a palm against its ugly face and shove with all his might.
The demon sounded almost offended by Grimmjow’s defiance. It threw its skull against Grimmjow’s in a concussion-inducing headbutt.
Dazed, Grimmjow could do nothing when two wicked horns protruded from its temples, slipping out to quickly pin Grimmjow’s face between them. Grimmjow froze, finding that they’d easily stabbed into the hardwood like a knife in warm butter.
The demon purred, acidic eyes candescent. “Pretty thinggg.” A free hand skimmed low on Grimmjow’s waist, sharp nails pricking a conjuring circle over his stomach. It tapped a staccato beat there as it held eye contact.
Grimmjow gulped.
Oh, fuck.
It was gonna gore him!
“Grimmjow! ”
The demon's face whipped to the side, horn tip barely missing Grimmjow’s eye when it tumbled unexpectedly. Its arm and shoulder twisted backwards, the unnatural angle causing a sickening grind of bones.
It screeched an atrocious belt. Grimmjow covered his ears to dampen the sound. On its knees, the creature acted as if its head fought being shoved to the floor by an invisible hand. Its outline struggled within the darkness, fighting against restraints Grimmjow couldn’t see.
His gaze shot to Ichigo, standing but wobbling, poised as if he were fighting against a shark and the rod’s line about to snap. Sleeves rolled up, blood curled down Ichigo's wrists. As if he'd done the unthinkable and slit them for more control.
The writhing creature convulsed. “Blasphemous witch! ”
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed.
He dropped to the floor and thrust a symbol on the hardwood with red-coated fingers. The demon jerked horrifically.
There was a smell of ozone, of fresh tilled earth.
The emptiness which Grimmjow felt within his heart scared him worse than when he’d been dragged by the noose. Worse than the night he realized he was different, when all he had to hold on to was a pillow to keep from breaking. The loss of the soul.
There was no flash, no indication there'd been an entity within the home at all. The demon vanished. Ichigo collapsed, clearly disoriented and possibly unconscious due to blood loss. Reddish hair fluttered about his head.
Adrenaline pumping, Grimmjow finally had the aptitude to move, rushing to Ichigo's side. He slid to his knees, immediately snatching Ichigo's bloody wrists to staunch the lacerations. Though there were none. Grimmjow sighed in relief. "Thank God." He collected the reader onto his lap, an unfortunate altruistic muse. Ichigo’s only injury was on the back of his head. A real nasty one. Grimmjow grit his teeth at the sight.
He hated to sacrifice his shirt, but he supposed Ichigo had already done more than enough. Grimmjow owed that sonofabitch now. The gray fabric balled and was pressed to his skull.
Ichigo eventually came to, blinking up at Grimmjow as if trying to place who he was. Then all at once Ichigo remembered, and he gave a groan before a hand pressed against his forehead. "I feel like I got thrown against a bus."
Grimmjow snorted. "You only saved me from being possessed. Or eaten. No big deal."
Ichigo grunted, and Grimmjow looked around at the mess. “Hope ya got a deposit on this place.”
Ichigo sat up and grimaced. His eyes flickered from Grimmjow’s chest to his eyes, blinked, then did a double-take. Grimmjow made a face. “You were bleeding out.” Grimmjow showed Ichigo his ruined shirt.
Ichigo touched the back of his head and hissed. “Least I know you’re not totally desperate for nudes.”
Sunlight emerged at last, Grimmjow comprehending just what kind of massacre they’d barely avoided. Blood was everywhere. And exhaustion began overwhelming them both. Ichigo felt delicate in his arms, like a child running a fever, unsure how to console him best. Nothing would take away what they’d experienced. All Grimmjow could provide was something for Ichigo to focus on other than the pain – an easy question.
“What did you do?”
“I sealed it away,” Ichigo said. He pulled a large obsidian pendant out of his shirt, its flaring beauty catching the morning rays.
Grimmjow looked at it skeptically. “When you said we’d ‘catch it’ I didn’t think you meant shove it into your amulet,” Grimmjow chastised in outraged confusion.
Ichigo said nothing. Calmly, to spite Grimmjow, he touched the ropeburn across his throat. Guilt distressed his handsome features.
“Is it bad?” Grimmjow asked. When Ichigo’s lips thinned, he swore. “Not exactly a hickey, huh?”
Grimmjow would never forget the look on Ichigo’s miserable face. “I’m sorry, Grimmjow. ”
+++
Hours passed, Grimmjow didn’t know how many. Ichigo forced him into his cramped shower, darting off to find anything that might fit him. Grimmjow had argued, harassing Ichigo to go to the hospital to get his head checked out. But he refused, the bastard too headstrong. He’d willingly become collateral damage, and it fucking pissed Grimmjow off.
He stomped downstairs, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt (white and a little tight across his chest, but it’d do). The ring around his neck wouldn’t be so easy to hide.
He caught Ichigo moving from kitchen to terrace, back and forth, sageing everywhere. Fuck, he’d lost it. He was mumbling under his breath, clicking the lighter anytime the smoke stalled too much for his liking.
Grimmjow rubbed a palm against his tired eyes. “What’re you doing?”
“Praying to any god that’ll listen.” Ichigo moved to make a wide X across the picture window.
Grimmjow watched him work, folding his arms. He leaned against the island, something that hadn’t been marred by gore. Ichigo’s hair was still matted in the back. “You need to shower.”
“I’m not done yet.”
Grimmjow growled. “What the fuck. You said you sealed it away! What’re you doing all this shit for?” he gestured to the walls.
Ichigo stopped, body going rigid. “To protect us.”
“What for? ” he demanded.
Silence.
Ichigo turned with a hellish look on his face, Grimmjow giving back that same energy tenfold. His scowl was infuriating. Grimmjow wanted to beat the defiance outta those burning eyes.
Hiding, always hiding. Ichigo had a real shit poker face, and as much as he could hide behind a passive mask and flaring hair and some fuckin liquid stitch, Grimmjow was already onto Ichigo's bluff.
Grimmjow tipped his head, scrutinizing the tarot reader. “What did you actually do?”
Denial halted on his lips. Ichigo's eyes lowered. He touched the dark pendant, soft tenor firm when he admitted, “I made a choice.”
Blue eyes widened. “Huh?”
"That symbol I made on the floor. It's an invitation." Ichigo got quieter. “And I . . . invited it into my heart."
"What?!"
Ichigo couldn’t repress the urgency in his words. "It was going to kill you!”
"You gotta be fuckin kidding me. Do you hear what you're saying?!"
A funky ringtone interrupted their dispute. Nelliel’s. Fuck.
“I'll let you take that. I'm done now.”
“Go fucking shower!” Grimmjow screeched, Ichigo dismissing him with a wave. Oh that little –
“Hello?”
“Grimmjow where are you? ” Nel's panicked voice asked.
He paused. “You’re home?”
"My brothers are morons.” The only true justification she’d ever need. "But what happened! The apartment's a mess and the clock's smashed! Are you okay?”
“I'm fine, babe,” he said, tucking against a doorframe. As if it would hide his voice from Ichigo better. “Had a bad dream.”
“Where are you? ” she demanded now. Her way of saying, Don’t make me ask again.
Grimmjow sighed. “I'm with Ichigo,” he confessed.
“The tarot reader? ” Nel expressed with surprise. “The sexy one with the hot body? ”
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Yes, that one.”
“Why’re you with him?”
“ . . . I came to apologize,” Grimmjow lied. “And to see if he could help me.”
Nel was silent for a moment. “Well, I'm glad you made a friend, ” she hummed.
A flush warmed his face. “I didn't – ”
A terrified scream made Grimmjow jolt.
"What was that! "
“I gotta go!”
He hung up before she could make a quip, rushing upstairs and forced the bathroom door open.
Ichigo had fallen against the shower curtain, fiercely tearing it from its hooks. Two clung to the rod for dear life, though they might not last long. Ichigo was absolutely shaken. Shaking. Hands trembling against his heart, the pendant bobbed up and down with rapid breaths. He was still in his skinny jeans, the fall having reopened the split in his head.
Grimmjow cursed low. “What happened?”
“I-I took off my shirt and . . .” Ichigo’s look was far-off. He swallowed. “And saw black marks on my skin.” Ichigo mimed where they seemed to streak across. “And when I looked in the mirror my eyes weren’t looking back at me.”
His chest, though impressively defined on his lean frame, was bare save for a few sunspots and the awful black hole dipping into his flesh.
Grimmjow clicked his tongue. “Give me that lousy amulet. I’ll watch it.”
Ichigo became alarmed. “But – !”
“Don’t argue with me! Just hand it over!” Grimmjow snarled, flicking his fingers back at himself.
Ichigo relented, unlatching the clasp. “It’s Labradorite,” he disclosed, as if that meant anything to Grimmjow.
He snatched Ichigo’s outstretched arm and hauled him upright.
The reader collided with Grimmjow, shaken worse by the abrupt movement. With a hand gripping his chest, their faces weren’t far apart when Ichigo looked at him with round eyes.
Grimmjow gave a mean smirk. “Don’t look so smitten.”
Ichigo instantly frowned. “Get out.”
Grimmjow chuckled when Ichigo gave him a shove, closing the door as the water turned on. Though now in the hushed environment, alone, Grimmjow swore he could feel the sting of rope against his neck.
He slid down the wall. Sitting, choosing to wait until Ichigo finished.
Grimmjow balanced the pendant on his knees. Black as death. Dark as sin. Strung on a gold chain. Expensive. That much was obvious. And now it was tarnished by a fatal charm.
Ichigo’s words were like shackles.
I made a choice.
Grimmjow buried his head. “What did you do, you idiot?”
+++
If Nelliel was back at the house, that meant Grimmjow needed to go. He'd leave that evening. He might not be able to explain everything, though Nel was pretty open-minded. She might believe him.
Except he didn't get a chance.
One message. She was heading back to her brother's. Be Safe. She’d be in touch soon.
A strangled cry came out of him.
Once. Just once he wished he’d caught Nel. But she was constantly out of reach.
Without meaning to, Ichigo got a front-row seat to Grimmjow's failing relationship. All while brewing blonde roast.
A hand warmed his shoulder. It felt like pity. He didn't even care at this point. Everything’d already gone to shit.
Head pressed to clasped hands, there were a few reasons why Grimmjow actually didn’t want to leave.
The air was clear in the house, like nothing ever happened. The sage obviously helped. Grimmjow didn’t completely buy into it.
He focused on the sullied pendant from between his hands.
The weekend was almost over. La Fortuna would reopen tomorrow, meaning they’d need to separate. Though Grimmjow felt if they did part something would happen.
Ichigo seemed, well, not different. More personable. More at ease. Like a human.
Like a friend.
Grimmjow wanted to believe it was a good thing. Secretly, deep down where upset ruled in his stomach, he knew something wasn’t right. Intuition? An inkling? Didn’t matter. Ichigo was becoming warm. Grimmjow couldn’t explain it.
Lightning had struck the tower. And Ichigo would suffer heat stroke if he continued to hold the flames inside.
However, on the outside? Fuck. Grimmjow started recanting the rumors Nel whispered about their resident sexual deviant. And what all the other women gushed about him in secret.
“Everyone has a crush on you,” Grimmjow deadpanned the next morning, Ichigo listening as he got ready.
He was more than amused hearing each lustful description, running kohl along his waterline. “Everyone, huh?”
Damn.
Grimmjow mentally beat back his attraction. Tried to sound casual. “Why d’you put that shit on again?”
“I get more tips,” Ichigo said simply. “That’s why the Tip the Reader jar sits at the front desk.”
He colored in his eyes, using his ring finger to dab a lid until it became smokey. Then Ichigo smirked at his reflection. “You’re lucky your girlfriend likes me so much. She gave me a fat tip when she was signing you up. Probably knew you’d be a pain in the ass.” He winked at Grimmjow, rediscovering that same tickle of heat under his collar.
Grimmjow forced his gaze off that smoldering look. “Piss off,” he chided, though there wasn’t any bite to it.
Ichigo continued to preen himself like a prized show pony, fixing his hair this way and that. Grimmjow puffed. Nel was only slightly worse when she played with her hair.
Ichigo paused when he noticed Grimmjow’s brooding reflection.
“My contract here is ending soon,” he announced, causing Grimmjow to look at him sharply. Ichigo had that same melancholic appearance he’d seen the other day.
“What does that mean?” Grimmjow asked. A hint of desperation, the dread of losing him hanging off his tongue.
“Means I'm moving on.” Ichigo opened a thin jewelry box and picked through it, several rings appearing. “There's a place in Toronto that's been asking for new readers. La Fortuna’s owner has a contact up there. Figured, after spending half a year here I'd go somewhere new. Even if it's colder.”
“Toronto?!”
He smiled fondly at Grimmjow. “I made that decision before I met you.”
“ . . . So you're just gonna leave,” Grimmjow ventured in a quiet voice, disbelieving it was possible for Ichigo to suddenly get up and walk out of his life.
What the hell was he thinking? He barely knew the guy! He barely knew Ichigo. He couldn’t even say where he was from or what type of music he listened to. Grimmjow was acting like he’d known the reader half his life.
“You could always come with me,” Ichigo suggested with a bright look.
Both men considered one another in the mirror.
Grimmjow probably reacted like Ichigo expected – a whirl of shock and cautious confusion.
Ichigo tried another way. “It’s good to not be tethered to a life that no longer serves us,” he encouraged.
Grimmjow recalled him saying something similar not long ago.
Though it didn’t pacify Grimmjow. It riled him. “So what are you actually saying? I could go with you, except – you’re running away with a demon hanging around your neck!” he roared at Ichigo’s resigned image. “And for what? To protect me? Because you don’t need to help me anymore? Or because you made a choice,” Grimmjow seethed.
A meek objection lingered in the mirror, movement unfurling, too brief to see.
Ichigo frowned, using a quick hand to cover his reflection. “I’m not trying to upset you,” he spoke in a mild voice.
“Yeah, I bet.” Grimmjow gave a tight, faltering laugh. “I ain’t chasing after you, and I ain’t doin’ a long-distance relationship.”
He’d joked, though it allowed Grimmjow to ponder if that’s honestly what he wanted. He didn’t want to lose Ichigo outright. But what could he do? People moved on, relationships fell apart. That was life.
He didn’t want it to be that way.
“Christ. Now I’m pining over you too.”
A sweet-sounding laugh came, Ichigo standing from the vanity after a final once-over.
He aroused such mysticism while walking up to Grimmjow in all that inky, witchy garb, the same alluring heat affixed in his eyes from when he met Grimmjow the first time. Ichigo was like a living ghost, but Grimmjow hesitated to touch him. One wrong move and he’d be out of reach.
Ichigo was the one who moved. He took hold of Grimmjow’s loose hand and squeezed, trying to offer some form of comfort. Ichigo’s thumb smoothed over his knuckles in a calming motion, dragging something uncomfortable out of Grimmjow. He didn’t know why but his nose hurt and his eyes stung.
Ichigo’s gaze held nothing but kindness for him.
“I’m not going anywhere yet. I’m only gonna be next door. You’re more than welcome to hang around the shop so you aren’t alone.” Another squeeze. Ichigo looked down at their entangled hands. There was a soft expression on his face, living through a memory while they touched. “My mother used to do this when I was little. It was how she comforted me when I was upset.” His face twisted into something like sadness. Grimmjow had become too accustomed to Ichigo's melancholic looks. “She’s not here anymore. But I like to think doing this helps calm others and soothe them when they need it.”
He looked back into Grimmjow’s eyes, and the flicker of love from his loss was all Grimmjow needed to step forward.
His hand cradled the back of Ichigo’s head and pressed their lips together. Hoping, if for an instant, he might be able to taste Ichigo’s incredible soul.
Hands slid up Grimmjow’s chest and clung to firm muscle, skin tingling from the warmth. Ichigo didn’t pull away.
He broke the kiss and nuzzled their foreheads together, half-lidded as he watched Ichigo’s reactions. The subtle twitch of his nose. The little pinch of a longing smile. The peachy blush on his skin from the unexpected embrace.
It’d been so long since he’d had an affect on someone, and equally was affected by them. There was no way Ichigo was getting out of his life. Absolutely no way.
“I’ll go with you,” Grimmjow decided right then, answering in a heady whisper. “I’ll go. I can’t lose you.”
Ichigo was still smiling, unable to meet Grimmjow’s eyes. “Give it a day,” was all he said. “Don’t make rash decisions based on how badly you want me.” Grimmjow bristled, cheeks burning, but then Ichigo searched his eyes. “Or how badly I want you.”
Both stood present in the moment, breathing each other in.
Ichigo gave an apologetic look after lingering too long. “I really do have to go now. Come into the shop when you’re ready.”
The bastard teased him by subtly dragging his fingers down his pecs, making his nipples hard from the touch.
There was a light hum from the reader as he left for La Fortuna, his back a little straighter. Rejuvenated by the non-PDA. Heh. Grimmjow always thought he was good at bagging babes. Now bros was added to the list. What a life.
Although . . . how would he explain this to Nel? That, surprise! He was in love with someone else? A guy of all people? One whose heart housed a –
The chink of metal bounced on the floor, Grimmjow turning to find one of Ichigo’s rings having fallen off the vanity. A unique saddle design with a curved moon in its center. Weird. It really shouldn’t have fallen.
He bent to pocket it, Grimmjow soon looking at his image: heavily styled hair, questioning blue eyes, tingling lips, and ruined skin. He’d kept the bandaid off to give the cuts some air. A terrible decision, really.
Grimmjow traced the ruby line around his throat, grimacing. He’d throw on a scarf before heading next door.
Grimmjow groaned, misery in his brown eyes. Feeling bad about himself would lead nowhere.
Another glance and he was off, looting Ichigo’s closet to find a scarf. Never registering something wasn’t right . . .
+++
The bell above jingled. Grimmjow entered La Fortuna stealthily, as if the angular crystals might become teeth and snag him when he wasn’t looking. The incense sticks would drop and become rolling pins; the dark finish of the hardwood curious but patient. Waiting to swallow him into the basement. Where his skin would be used as wax for candles.
This place was like Santa’s workshop to Nel. To Grimmjow it was a Halloween hellhole.
Tittering came from his left.
A woman stood aside the front counter, lips pinched in her current task – judging him.
Her skin was the hue of an adobe clay pot. The woman was tall, fashionable with some dark oxhide cowboy boots. Her angular nose reminded him of a hawk’s, a piercing gaze which swooped on him soon as he crossed the threshold into La Fortuna. The woman had hard eyes, ones that’d been through some shit.
A girl launched out of the backroom, frantic and degraded. Her eyes shimmered with tears. With a repulsive sniff, she sobbed.
She nearly tripped rushing past Grimmjow, gravel flying behind her sneakers.
“He’s free if you wanna go in, hun,” the woman told him, catching Grimmjow off guard. Her voice was more delicate than she looked.
Grimmjow took the opportunity to slip in, nostrils flaring instantly. The incense, the memory of that day coming back in a flash.
“What the fuck you do, tell her she was gonna die?”
“Marriage proposal,” was all Ichigo indulged. “I’m not supposed to discuss my client’s inquiries.”
Ichigo collected his tarot deck and condensed the cards. The candle had already been snuffed out, Ichigo picking an eagle feather off the shelf from where he sat. He swished smoke around the used deck with steady movement. Years of experience and care piled onto the deck before him.
“Who’s the broad out front?”
“Jackie? She’ll kick your ass, so don’t give her shit.”
Grimmjow grunted, his way of agreement.
Ichigo paused, face forlorn. “I haven’t told her what happened. But she’s sharp. Probably’ll figure it out on her own.”
A longer silence came between them, Ichigo circling the feather around his deck more purposefully than before. “I’ve been thinking . . .”
“Oh?” Grimmjow responded, a little eager, a little coy, mouth twitching into a smirk.
Ichigo gave him a flat look. “I was thinking about redoing your reading.”
“ Oh. ” Grimmjow dropped the word faster than scalding food from his mouth. And almost equally as unappealing. “No thanks.”
“ Grimmjow .”
“No thank you?” he tried again, a tighter inflection on you.
“You’re getting a new reading.”
Ichigo began clearing the table, erasing everything that had to do with Grimmjow's past experience. "No spare cards, no gems, no lit candles," Ichigo said. "Just us."
"Very intimate," Grimmjow observed, Ichigo pausing for a moment before closing his eyes and letting a huff out his nose.
"I wish you wouldn't say it like that."
With Grimmjow across the room, far enough to see all of Ichigo's expressions, all of his motivations and learned habits, he noticed how this routine was all about performance and show. It was about you , and a deflection away from everything the reader, he , was.
In Ichigo's current situation – the perfect sting.
"Why?" he wondered curiously.
"Because there's nothing you need to know about me." Ichigo shuffled the cards a bit aggressively. "Now sit," he commanded.
Grimmjow glowered, approaching his seat. "I think you lead on to a more interesting person than you think you are. Your eyes give everything away."
The muscles under Ichigo’s stylish crocheted sweater tensed, eyes striking like solar flares. Even the pendant lurking through the holes in his top seemed to leer at Grimmjow.
The cards were driven onto the table.
"Past. Present. Future."
They flipped over . . .
+++
Everything superbly amused Jackie Tristian today.
She’d been made aware the blue-haired heartthrob would be popping in, Ichigo doing his damndest to not look her in the eye. She laughed to herself. Ichigo clearly had some weird crush on his former querent, too embarrassed to admit outloud. She’d known he’d spent the weekend with Ichigo through a text message when he’d declined to go on a hike.
Then the dude crept in here like he was on Stealth-Mode, wearing the brightest, sunniest yellow scarf she’d ever seen.
Hilarious.
The boys hadn’t been together ten minutes when Grimmjow emerged. He looked anxious leaving the backroom, pale-faced and stressed. Damn. Ichigo was really swinging today. He didn’t normally give such bad –
It was as if seeing him for the first time, like a stag emerging from the shrub into the mist. Bewitching and memorable.
Potentially deadly.
Jackie’s eyes widened when he exited the Reader’s room.
All his motions. The little quirks and nuances.
Rolling his shoulders back. How his fingers tucked orange hair behind his ear. The sway of his hips when he walked straight to the bathroom.
The eyes too keen on Jackie.
As if assessing her. And choosing to pass as a threat.
Ichigo smirked, blood smeared across his lip.
Oh god.
Jackie lunged over the counter to stop Grimmjow from leaving, going for his wrist and accidentally taking hold of his scarf.
Grimmjow spun out of shock, gripping her own instead.
Their eyes were serious on one another.
Probably looking like a seal from her position, Jackie cautioned in a low voice. “I advise you to be wary of the friend you keep.”
“What?”
Raw, harsh marks came into view when Grimmjow growled, the scarf having parted enough for tapered brows to raise. Before she could stop herself Jackie asked, “What happened to your throat?”
“Jackie. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Jackie nearly gasped, quickly uprighting herself.
Ichigo snuck behind her and she hadn’t noticed. He had an unpleasant look on his face. That also creeped her out. Ichigo’s energy was calming, confident, and vibrant.
She felt nauseous standing beside him now.
“Huh?” she said with surprise. “But you have three more readings.”
“I gotta call Jo,” he said, trouble clouding his features. Ichigo moved past her to the entrance and slipped outside. There was no spared look at either of them. From the window she watched him rip his cell phone from his back pocket.
Startling movements, uncharacteristic attitude, unwelcoming aura, Grimmjow joined Jackie by the glass and remained silent until Ichigo was out of sight. Itching to ask something.
“Yes?”
Possibly feeling safer side-by-side, Grimmjow’s voice echoed when he asked, “What do you think is inside Ichigo?”
That stalled the woman, body going rigid like she’d been possessed. Jackie hesitated, and eventually gave him a dire, hollow look.
“Nothing holy, I imagine.”
+++
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
The Devil. The Moon. And the Three of Swords. Past. Present. Future.
Two palms covered his face in a form of mock prayer. Grimmjow stared at his spread with palpable dread. Past-schmast, The Devil was here to stay. His sign of peace a huge middle finger directed at Grimmjow.
And Ichigo seemed complacent.
Grimmjow made to stand – carefully this time – and spluttered, “I’m out.”
Ichigo clutched his free hand before he could take two steps. Grimmjow wanted to wrench away from that solid grip, hypnotized by an imploring message to remain.
“It’s better we interpret this together.”
Grimmjow gave a weak laugh. “Together.” Then, “I’d rather you smother me with a pillow.”
Ichigo’s brows knitted in remorse, and Grimmjow relented, sitting back down. Doing this goddamned thing all over again.
“What does it say?”
Ichigo touched the first card. “In the past, you’ve dealt with demons – ”
“ – No shit – ”
“ – but not without extraordinary effort to escape them. Accepting your personal limitations, you allowed yourself to be crushed by them. Choosing what you always felt was right, but in your heart knowing what was wrong. Denying that you were bisexual and instead telling yourself you were happy.”
Grimmjow made a noise. That felt backhanded, and a flurry of shame returned.
Ichigo made a face at the middle card. “The Moon. She’s illusion. With all that’s happened,” Ichigo said with sour attitude, “there’s much confusion and double-meaning. Don’t trust all you see and hear ,” he continued, and Grimmjow noted how it’d been desperately released from the reader’s lungs. Sharp eyes shifted to Ichigo’s chest, and the black rock only glared at him more.
“Clarity comes with time,” Ichigo spat, and ended it there.
Both stared at the cutesy heart impaled by swords. “Let me guess. I die,” Grimmjow commented dryly, butchered and unimpressed.
Ichigo didn’t twitch. “Heartache. Your future is met with hurt, injustice, and betrayal.” Grimmjow made a noise of disgust this time. “However, if you assess your situations closely, listening to your intuition, you can heal your wounds. A ‘bleeding heart’ doesn’t always mean you need to be sympathetic to others. Only – ”
A ruby drop splat onto the card, both perplexed by the sight. Ichigo felt his upper lip, and immediately obscured the blood pouring from his nose.
Basically immune to seeing pints at this point, Grimmjow turned in his chair as Ichigo raced to grab several tissues. “You get those often?” he questioned at the reader’s back. Ichigo’s head shook slow in response.
There was muttering, Ichigo speaking another language. His voice was stripped of pride.
“ . . . I think I need to call Jo . . . ”
Grimmjow cocked his head. “Joe?”
+++
An hour or so later a firm knock announced Ginjo’s arrival. Grimmjow got the door while Ichigo remained on the couch, looking like he suffered from a bad hangover.
“ . . . La Fortuna’s owner. He’s the one who initially contracted me Stateside. Ginjo’s half-Japanese, so he was easy to get along with,” Ichigo revealed to Grimmjow while they waited. It was a short tale of admiration.
“My boss explained to me once how inanimate objects have souls. Yeah, I didn’t believe it at first either,” Ichigo said, commenting on Grimmjow’s incredulous expression. “But it makes sense. Especially with tarot cards. The more you use them, the more influential and “powerful” they are. Because you’re constantly engaging with them. Asking them – yourself – your higher self – for answers. So a little bit of your soul slips between your fingerprints and mates itself to the card. Are you following me?”
“Kinda,” Grimmjow frowned. “I get it, but it’s still pretty kooky.”
“Understandable,” Ichigo agreed. “Tarot, and Ginjo honestly, gave me purpose again. Don’t tell him I said that,” Ichigo chuckled.
Surprise was on the man’s face when Grimmjow appeared, eyebrows swept up like eagle wings. Ginjo was roughly Grimmjow’s height, maybe halfway to forty, slicked ebony hair just a tad too long and too greasy for Grimmjow’s taste by the sheen it.
His coat looked like it’d come from a coal mine; that is to say, the leather appeared dingier in odd spots as if it’d dragged through one. His collar of faux white chinchilla had been popped to stave off a harsh breeze signaling winter’s abusive approach. A styled pewter cross hung from his neck, the rest of his attire dressed for business. Nothing else immediately flustered Grimmjow about this newcomer.
Then came a skeezy, sly smirk when russet colored eyes met sky blue. “This your new boyfriend, Ichi?”
“Huh?!” Grimmjow snapped, a growl rumbling as the man slipped past him.
Ichigo gave an exhausted stare when he peeked through splayed fingers. “I told you, I don’t date. Not after my divorce, ” he added conspiratorially, hoping the words would be low enough for Grimmjow to ignore.
They weren’t. Grimmjow’s blunted brows shot to his hairline. “What!”
“Ooh! Never mentioned that I see.” Ginjo waved Grimmjow off. “You look like shit, kid.”
Ginjo settled across from Ichigo and examined him. He grabbed the reader’s chin and turned him side to side like a doctor. Ichigo’s eyes weren’t far-off from bloodshot when they briefly glanced at Grimmjow.
Ginjo made a noncommittal noise after a minute. “You definitely have a sickness inside you. Not sure how I’m gonna help.”
A weary huff was Ichigo’s reply.
A softer look came over the elder’s face, and he began speaking in hushed Japanese.
It was hard to tell what they were saying. The conversation was short, Grimmjow guessing here and there what was said due to inflection. He felt useless being an observer, inept in understanding the subtext.
Whatever Ginjo was suggesting, Ichigo seemed extremely reluctant to comply. He shook his head three separate times, the last with an argumentative snarl.
Ginjo sighed, tossing his hands up before they slapped spread thighs and he leaned forward. “Ya outta options then!”
A fist came up to Ichigo’s forehead, knuckles beating against his third eye. Ginjo stood to make his leave, shaking his head.
Although appearing like a mafia scoundrel at his initial entrance, before leaving Ginjo turned to Grimmjow. Concern in his eyes. They were deeper than tree knots, ravens nesting in the deep hollow.
“There’s a lotta things he doesn’t say. Keep that in mind. He’s gonna need us sooner than he thinks.”
Digging into a breast pocket, Ginjo produced a baggie with a bundle of white sage and handed it to Grimmjow. “Go around the doors leading outside and X out the windows. My number’s in the bag. Don’t hesitate to call me.”
Grimmjow’s gaze went to the bagged sage, not realizing a business card was inside.
Ginjo brought the cross up to his chin, regarding Grimmjow curiously as he played with it. Then it clicked. “You’re the guy that almost burned La Fortuna down running away from his reading. Ichigo told me about you.”
Heat rose, Grimmjow feeling a mix of aggravation and embarrassment all over again.
“Yeah. I’m the reason we’re in this shit situation. I get that. I own that. I need to fix it.” Grimmjow’s scowl fell on Ichigo, looking like he’d crawled out of Hell. His expression dimmed. “But Ichigo’s got that thing inside him. And I don’t know where to begin,” Grimmjow admitted helplessly.
Ginjo hummed with interest. “Like I said. Give me a ring when things get worse.”
A look of panic crossed Grimmjow’s face. “How much worse?”
Ginjo’s look of indifference was unbearable.
He kissed the cross before stepping outside, rattling off the beginnings of the Lord’s Prayer as he took off.
That’s when Grimmjow realized he’d been wearing a rosary.
Was that what Ginjo was? A priest? An exorcist?
It almost made sense. In a completely baffling, nonsensical way.
He crept closer, planting himself where Ginjo sat. He wondered if asking Ichigo if he’d want tea might help, but Grimmjow kinda hated tea and didn’t want to start digging through cabinets to find some. So he asked a different question.
“Divorce, huh?”
Ichigo flashed vexation. “How do you say it in English? Sore spot? I don’t enjoy bringing it up.” And in a rush of anger Ichigo added, “You wanna know if I have a son or not too, right?”
That never crossed Grimmjow’s mind. He blinked at the idea. “Ginjo didn’t mention that. And I won’t pry,” Grimmjow added, nixing the questions even if they intrigued him. Of Ichigo not only being a divorcé, but a father.
Grimmjow tried a different approach. “What was Ginjo suggesting?”
“Nothing realistic,” he grumbled, Ichigo forcing himself to sit upright. “Something we might need to do if things get serious.”
Grimmjow was annoyed by the vagueness of that. “Enlighten me.”
Ichigo pursed his lips. “The New Moon is in three days. But that’s not all. Mercury goes into retrograde that same night. And due to light pollution where we are, the sky will be impossible to see. No stars for me to decipher.”
Grimmjow shook his head in confusion. “And?”
“Put it this way – a heavenly blackout. The demon might pierce the heavens above because the universe can’t see what’s going on below.”
Grimmjow gave a withering look. “Ichigo, this sounds like science fiction. What does any of that have to do with fixing you?”
“Nothing. I’m simply stating the facts. All you need to understand is that it’s prime for the demon. The universe won’t witness it take my soul. I’ll just be swallowed by it. And from there it can conquer everything.”
“ . . . Hypothetically,” Grimmjow offered hopefully.
Ichigo only shrugged. A too-loose gesture. “It’s hungry. Monsters are always hungry. Monsters want the mind, the body – ” and Ichigo cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say. He looked at Grimmjow immediately, and swallowed. “The spirit.”
Grimmjow felt sick. “It's poisoning you to get to me.”
It's a little unsettling when Ichigo places his palm over Grimmjow's heart. It's nothing sentimental, more sterile in the way a nurse might count the beats. Too clinical. Devoid of emotion.
Wondering when it’d become his.
“Perhaps,” Ichigo says quietly, and his hand slips away. He proceeds to quickly do the same, moving to the sliding door and peering out into the garden. Lost in deep thought.
+++
Grimmjow did his best to sage. He twirled the bundle like a baton so the smoke rippled, crossing it over windows as Ginjo proposed. It didn’t seem to do anything in Grimmjow’s opinion.
At Ichigo’s behest, even if only an hour, Grimmjow shuffled home. The chilly air would be good to clear his thoughts. Allowing Grimmjow to think back on the reading.
The Moon. Ichigo’s hate for the card wasn’t discreet. The Moon roused ire in the reader, and potentially the demon itself. Why was that important, what did it mean?
Grimmjow stopped, remembering the ring in his pocket.
Sterling silver, the moon was a waxing crescent detailed with all the pockmarks found on its surface. Seeming to circle the moon itself were stars. No . . . a constellation. Grimmjow scrutinized it further.
“Your lover is under the sign of Cancer, water, which is a rarity.”
“I ain’t interested in getting spicey with a chick who’s got crabs.”
Was this some weird sign from the beyond? Their conversation from the other night brought recognition, Grimmjow absolutely positive this constellation was Cancer. And the tarot card had what on its face between two ugly-ass dogs? Well, okay, it kinda looked like a lobster, but by extension it coulda been a crab. And where did crabs live?
Grimmjow might be pretty, but he wasn’t a complete moron. Ichigo was trying to communicate with him somehow. The real Ichigo. He wasn’t gone yet. Just buried. Grimmjow witnessed his soul straining to be free. Like a bunsen burner’s flame. Bursting then shrinking. And Ichigo fought for dominance.
The New Moon would be his undoing.
Grimmjow pushed the ring on his middle finger and admired its elegance.
Of course. Of course the demon would hate the moon. At its peak, the full moon shined the brightest light in the darkest of places.
No wonder Ichigo spat venom.
Grimmjow needed to call Ginjo. But what would they do?!
“Hey!”
Nel's voice stalled him with a jolt. The jingle of his keys was unpleasant when they crashed against the hardwood, Grimmjow bending to grab the fob before losing them between the slots of his rickety porch.
A few stomps announced Nel’s approach, Grimmjow almost reeling from alarm.
“You're back!” she hollered as she snagged him into a tight embrace. Nel’s gigantic boobs crushed the air out of his chest, a woosh flying past his lips. It took him a second to respond, slowly wrapping his arms around her.
Grimmjow suddenly felt caged, like a tiger.
Cat was outta the bag after all . . .
She let go and looked in his eyes for what felt like the first time in months. “What happened? Nancy flagged me down and said she saw you basically run out of the house the other day. Where have you been? You said you've been at La Fortuna?”
Nancy. She was the retired nurse who bandaged Grimmjow after the knife incident. Apparently she’d been keeping a closer eye on him once he kept popping up with daily lacerations.
Shit shit shit.
“And – ”
“Nellie. Quit yappin, please. For once,” he said, putting a hand out to stop her usual round of Twenty Questions. “I'm fine.”
Nel blinked. She narrowed her eyes, but let it go. Her tone was flat when she observed, “You don't look fine.”
She curved her arm around his and pulled Grimmjow into the kitchen, the warmth of her bare skin sinking into his well-worn Patagonia.
It was actually Ichigo’s, neither thinking when handed to Grimmjow and forced out the door. One of few things that fit and wasn’t dark or moody in its color scheme. Grimmjow never thought he’d be so grateful to borrow a jacket in his life.
Nel noticed the brand. “This’s nice! Find it at a thrift shop?”
“No, it’s from a . . . friend,” Grimmjow hesitated. Still afraid to claim whatever title the relationship he had with Ichigo was.
“Well, that was nice! I see Patagonia, I think about people hiking in the mountains. Adventurers. That shit’s expensive, so you better take care of it,” she said with a poke.
Grimmjow gave her a wilted smile, imagining Ichigo being exactly that: an adventurer. Never would’ve expected a tarot reader to have such a euphoric life. But it seemed natural. Ichigo seemed very otherworldly, in a sense. Especially the worldly part. Grimmjow made a mental note to spy on Ichigo’s passport if he ever got the chance. Was he sentimental, grabbed a mug no matter where he went?
He wondered if Ichigo might take something from Grimmjow’s corner of the world to bring along for the journey.
He would though anyway. Regardless if Grimmjow was physically in the picture or not.
If his heart remained safe.
“Ichigo’s going to be leaving soon,” Grimmjow began slowly, Nel dumping him into a high chair before breaking the news. “He’s going to Toronto.”
Nel had the biggest expression of shock on her face, tearing up instantly. “WHAT! But I love him!” she whimpered, accentuating the love part. She drew tears away with the back of her finger, kohl liner smudging. “That’s horrible!” she bawled. “So soon?”
“His contract’s up,” Grimmjow stated. He gave her a cowardly look before darting his eyes away. “I’ve been talking to him. He’s been kinda helping me. Figure out some stuff.”
“Oh! Honey, that’s really good.” Nel put a hand on his shoulder and beamed. “I know he’s not exactly a therapist, but it’s great to get a different perspective on life. ‘s why I like him!” she added with a wink.
“Yeah,” Grimmjow agreed distantly, already falling back into the same mind-berating patterns he’d been thinking for almost a full year now.
“And he’s really cute. I think you might have a decent rival in the hottie department,” Nel joked, sticking her tongue out in a goofy way.
Grimmjow looked at her. He felt so helpless. His hands were together in his lap, feeling like a sinner in church.
“Nelliel, I can’t do this anymore.”
She blinked, brows being drawn so high you might’ve thought she stuck ‘em up with tape.
“What?”
Grimmjow hated feeling like this. Hated feeling this way. He looked off, refusing to meet her gaze while his eyes hovered on the brink of agony, corneas burnt by the tears he wouldn’t let fall. His chest begging for a breath he was too scared to take.
If he did he’d have to face reality.
“What’s going on?” she asked carefully.
Grimmjow took that breath.
“I feel so alone these days. I haven’t been able to shake this feeling for months.”
“What feeling?” God, her voice sounded so far away.
Grimmjow swallowed. “Before I had the reading . . . I’d been having . . . doubts. About who I was. How I was supposed to be. And that reading, before I screwed it up, Ichigo, ” man it was hard to say his name, “made me realize I wasn’t wrong for feeling the way I did. Probably the way I felt for years but never indulged. Because I was too afraid. Or whatever. That’s why I stopped the reading. I ran. I couldn’t face it.”
The look on her face told Grimmjow that she thought she got it, but then didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. He tried, “Nellie I don’t think I’m all the way there. Maybe I never really was.”
God, what a terrible, stricken look. She was beyond baffled.
Dammit –
“Straight! I’m not . . . totally straight.”
He reached out to clutch her hands in his own, gripped so tight he thought he might break her fingers, and slowly, painfully, she drew them away.
Grimmjow looked at his palms, and his face crashed into them. Finally allowing himself to cry.
Nel wrapped him in a hug he hadn’t expected, hadn’t deserved. He took the embrace and fisted her shirt, Nel patting his hair to help calm him down. “I’m not mad,” she said in a gentle voice. “But I am upset you’ve kept this from me for so long. You’ve been destroying yourself all this time. And I had no idea.” Her voice choked, tears leaking from her hazel eyes. “I’m sorry too. I know I haven’t been home much these days.”
“It’s not your fault you're good at your job.”
“And I can’t pass on the money!” she added, letting a bit of preppy, snobbish pride slip out. “Although it wouldn’t hurt if I asked for some PTO every now and then. Like maybe tomorrow?” Love spread across Nel’s face.
Grimmjow sniffed, knuckling his nose with the back of his hand, and nodded. “I’d like that,” he admitted, and stayed in her embrace until the heartache finally evaporated.
+++
The gem was cold against Grimmjow’s skin, Nel wanting him to wear it. It was her personal favorite and, being cute, forced it around his throat with a fight.
Grimmjow felt lighter returning to Ichigo’s.
They’d discussed everything during dinner (the non-demonic stuff), and Nel was extremely happy for Grimmjow’s upcoming journey. He was happy too, now that he could admit so.
Grimmjow rapped on the guesthouse door and entered.
And he froze.
Things hadn’t got worse. They'd gotten catastrophically worse.
The home was destroyed. Everything heavy toppled. Glassware smashed. Cups shattered. Feathers from pillows everywhere.
He was surprised to see Jackie sprinting toward him, equally shocked to see Grimmjow. She looked petrified.
“I came to check on Ichigo while you were gone.” Her eyes glittered with tears, and Jackie’s voice broke. “I thought he got murdered . . .”
Blue eyes lowering, it appeared as if someone took bottled blood and squeezed it all over her boots.
“Where is he?”
Ichigo was soaking in the tub, his surroundings set dressing for a horror film. Ten candles were lit along the edge, creating ghastly shadows against the tiles. Three separate incense sticks burned, and Grimmjow didn’t know if he was about to experience his own Exorcist nightmare.
Nevertheless, Grimmjow went in.
Ichigo was stock-still, his beautiful hair lank and dripping. His eyes were unfocused, staring forward.
Grimmjow’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "You said to trust you. Do you remember that?"
No response.
Grimmjow dropped to his knees to be at his level and touched the water – it was ice cold.
“What are you afraid of, Grimmjow?” Ichigo hissed, and his head swiveled. Peering at Grimmjow with yellow eyes. The glow of the moon.
The bastard smirked, Ichigo’s head returning to a default position. “I have no fear.”
Grimmjow glanced at Jackie, fingers clasped beneath her chin.
He gave a sigh, deep as his soul. Talking helped, right? “Ichigo. I’m afraid for you. You didn’t need to protect me. I’ll always be grateful. But just because you made a choice doesn’t mean you did the right thing!”
That got a feisty look, entirely human in its display. Disagreeing.
“You should fear the devil. ”
“And you should’ve been skeptical of tying yourself to someone willing to accept you,” Grimmjow scoffed.
“Like you ?” Ichigo’s voice dripped, the lilt growing sexual.
Grimmjow ripped Ichigo's face toward him, not giving a shit candles got knocked all over the place. Jackie shouted, stomping out the flames.
Ichigo was hardly impressed, didn't try to rear back. “I don’t even need to eat you anymore. I already know what you taste like.” A cruel smile appeared. “You think you’re hot shit but in reality you’re a pussy cat. Emphasis on pussy. ”
“Fuck you,” he told the demon.
“Mm, I don’t think you’re gonna get the chance,” Ichigo replied with a luminous veneer, and chuckled darkly. “I like this body better. More grief in his atoms. And he’s got a sharp mind. With a spirit I can devour for ever. ”
Grimmjow’s grip loosened, and he settled back into the tub.
Ichigo ignored him as he stood, honestly unsure what to do now.
“We need to call Ginjo. I don’t know what else we can do,” Jackie whispered, as if the demon wasn’t six feet away.
With the barrier of candles cut in half, Grimmjow found himself staring at the black pendant. It resembled a fat leech on Ichigo’s chest, tickled by the frigid bathwater. What had he called it?
“Jackie. What’s Labradorite?”
Confused, yet wanting to help, her head tipped in thought. “It’s the Stone of Magic, as it awakens the owner’s own innate magic. It strengthens your willpower and spiritual focus. It’s used to cleanse the chakras and block negativity. Though, it didn’t seem to work in this case.”
Magic, huh?
“Hey asshole. Let’s make a bet.”
Glowing eyes rotated in his direction. This might be the biggest bluff of Grimmjow’s life.
“My boss explained to me once how inanimate objects have souls. Yeah, I didn’t believe it at first either. But it makes sense. Especially with tarot cards. The more you use them, the more influential and “powerful” they are. Because you’re constantly engaging with them. Asking them – yourself – your higher self – for answers. So a little bit of your soul slips between your fingerprints and mates itself to the card. . . .”
Maybe not a tarot card, but Grimmjow was willing to bet Ichigo had worn that necklace a lot longer than a few fateful days. If he truly was a witch, anyway.
“What are you doing?” Jackie squeaked.
“I don’t think you can obtain Ichigo’s entire being.”
“Oh? And why’s that, kitty cat?” he asked playfully.
“Because you’ve only gotten a fragment of his soul. Ichigo said he invited you into his heart, but not fully. He sealed you, and put you into that stone.”
A finger toyed with the necklace. “Seal was broken, fool.”
Grimmjow shook his head. “I don’t think it was. Not completely. You don’t have full control yet.” A low hiss came from parted lips. Grimmjow wasn’t afraid. “I don’t think you realized it, but we’ve both touched that pendant. Ichigo said inanimate objects have souls. So like it or not, I’m in there too. Three souls against your paltry one. And I say when the New Moon comes, you disappear.”
The biggest, widest, most horrific smile graced Ichigo’s face, cackling at Grimmjow’s bravery.
“ Oh, I knew you were a treasure . What do you bet?”
“During the New Moon we perform a ritual to abolish you. Ichigo is spared. And you return to the other realm. If you survive, you get both our souls.”
The demon – Ichigo's – smile was too full of teeth, scarily contorting his face in an unsettling way. A hound salivating during a fox hunt. Not yet weary by the fox's agility and stamina. No.
He was in it for the long haul.
In it for the kill.
For the blood.
An icy, pruny hand stretched to shake Grimmjow’s warm, live palm. “Until then, my sweet.”
Grimmjow sneered, and clapped his hand into Ichigo’s. Confirming their contract.
Frightened brown eyes bloomed from the cold glow of the entity’s. Ichigo began shaking from the chill of the bath, uncontrolled tears falling down his face one after the other.
“Get me out of here!”
+++
“It's a little tight. ”
“I thought you liked tight shit, ” Ginjo's voice filtered up the stairs.
There were incoherent words after that, something about Ginjo being a fraud.
They were performing a ritual under La Fortuna, a basement oddly large enough to be a storage facility. There were no windows and only one way out – the stairs which Grimmjow descended.
A ritual which, after Jackie sent an immediate SOS to Ginjo, proceeded to tear Grimmjow a new asshole.
“Do you know what I have to do to find a text that might save your souls? What were you thinking?!”
Ginjo’s wrath was legendary, so Jackie said after he left in outrage. To find an old text and eighty Hail Mary’s under a fuckin rock.
With the guest house in shambles, the group brought Ichigo to Jackie’s place, a modest and well-furnished home. One that also harbored protection symbols above each entryway. Palo santo was burned to purify the air, Jackie circling it around each of them for better defense.
Ichigo wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He twisted the ends of an orange lock while they talked. Playing with it as a form of self-soothing. Fighting off the anxiety.
Standing behind Ichigo, Jackie’s hands covered his shoulders. A form of strength and comfort.
“It’s not just a book, Jo. We need a sacrifice,” she said matter-of-factly.
Ginjo grunted in agreement.
Ichigo stopped. He looked down at his fingers. A humorless laugh came. “Guess it counts when I'm not happy about it?”
Now, Ichigo sat in the center of a pentagram circled by chalk. On each tip a beeswax candlestick was placed, winking wildly.
Ichigo's hair had been shorn, dramatically so. The style no longer showed off the flames of his personality, reduced to an unimpressive fluffy cut barely past his ears. He looked like more of a punk this way, all the mystic allure gone.
“Silver for protection.”
Ichigo chuffed. “I look better in gold. Matches my complexion.”
Ginjo’s brows furrowed. He bent and placed both palms on Ichigo’s face. He looked at Ichigo dead in the eye. “Silver’s not just for werewolves, wiseass. Gimme a break.” Ginjo slapped his cheeks twice and Ichigo griped at the sting.
A ghost of a smile twitched on Ginjo’s lips.
“Kindred spirits, those two,” Jackie said to Grimmjow, who agreed. The abuse had been affectionate. Brotherly. Ginjo might have constructed an illustrious ceremony, it was clear he too was nervous over what could happen.
Then it became Grimmjow’s turn to speak with the condemned reader.
Willingly forced into a chair, Ichigo looked like a hostage with the way he was tied up. Wrists bound behind his back, Ginjo and Jackie made sure to strap his ankles down, for fear of him getting up. Fear of the demon hijacking his body and easily walking off.
The pendant housing Ichigo’s sin sat visible above a fitted shirt. Depending on how bad things got, wide bandages covered both forearms so Ichigo might escape the chafe of ropeburn. Or, God forbid, suicide if the demon was that entitled to off itself and its host.
Ichigo gave him a coy smirk once those tired eyes trailed up Grimmjow’s form. “You here for a reading?”
“Tch. Your fuckin reading got us into this mess.”
A fretful look came over Ichigo’s face, fading into the wrinkles that seemed to have deepened over the last few days. The crow’s feet which he might have hid under eyeliner were noticeable, curving up at the corners like wings. He sighed. “I know.”
Grimmjow grimaced. He opened his mouth –
“Don’t be afraid,” Ichigo said suddenly, halting Grimmjow completely. There was a look of resolve in his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did. And I don’t want you resenting me. Whatever happens – ”
“Shut up, Ichigo. Just because you got some savior complex doesn’t mean I’m interested in hearing it.”
They stared at each other, the fatigue in Ichigo’s spiced eyes abruptly gone. Grimmjow scoffed. “C’mon, let’s get this over with,” he announced to Ginjo, avoiding the bright smile Ichigo had on his face.
Ichigo chuckled. “I knew you weren’t a complete dick.”
“And I hope we’re not in over our heads,” he muttered, avoiding the outer line of the circle to stand beside Jackie.
At the tip of the pentagram, Ginjo stood before Ichigo. He held a plain white book, thin enough to be a journal.
“Is that what I think it is?” Ichigo asked, though his tone assumed he might be correct.
Ginjo thumbed through the pages easily, a stupidly big grin on his face. “Yup! The Book of the End. Had to get it expedited but I think it might do what we need.” Ginjo’s face cleared, growing serious. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Ginjo nodded to Jackie, who picked up a bowl and began walking around the circle, lighting bits of orange clippings until they smoked. It smelled awful. She threw Ichigo’s hair into the circle and moved to the next candle, repeating until complete.
Ginjo began. “By which it ends, we bring full our power. Unto you we wish you well and say you are not welcomed here. To the entity of unknown name and lineage, I ask that you return to your world and release the soul held firm in your grasp. You of darkness, of the soil and the earth, you who fear the purity of light ” – Ginjo looked up when he hailed the incantation – “we bring full our power! ”
Ichigo reacted with a choked-off scream.
Ginjo started the incantation again, louder. “By which it ends . . .”
Grimmjow actually flinched at how the candlelight flickered brighter and brighter, small supernovas expanding the more the demon got agitated.
“Don’t worry, Grimmjow,” Jackie’s voice said with comfort, a sharp extreme to how she truly felt. “Ichigo is ridiculously strong-willed. He originally denied the ritual, but he’d rather Ginjo rip it out of him then lose his humanity.”
“ . . . we bring full our power! ”
Ichigo jerked forward at the waist, head bowed in a fashion of remorse.
Except . . . there was none. It came. Eventually. Slowly. The laughter. His shaking shoulders likened to a near twisted sobbing.
Grimmjow felt his blood run cold.
Ginjo’s eyes glanced from the book. The expression on his face was less of shock and more toward astonishment.
That the thing inside Ichigo retained a fractal of sanity.
Words from Ichigo’s lips tumbled in a slurred fashion. Indescribable. Grimmjow almost imagined it to be Latin because of the fucking demon. But . . . no. Ichigo was speaking Japanese. Speaking to Ginjo. And the exorcist bore his teeth into a snarl.
His voice took on a hard edge. “Damn leech.”
Ichigo seemed to giggle. “You’re wasting your time.” Ichigo sat up straight in the chair, a horrific shade of color streaking across his watery eyes. He made sure Grimmjow was in his sight as he said, “I have a bet to win.”
All the light was snuffed. Each momentarily alarmed, the industrial lights swiftly flicked back on.
Ichigo now stood at the pentagram’s center, ropes untangled from his wrists and legs. A controlled figure, though still bound in place.
Ginjo curled his lip. The Book of the End shut.
Ichigo’s eyes were swallowed by moon glow, snickering at the group. “Time’s runnin’ out, gang. Better think of somethin’ quick,” he taunted in singsong. “I do enjoy seeing my beloved mugetsu on rare occasions.”
Ichigo took the time to glare at them individually. Having marched to his right, Jackie gripped a knife carved from antler taken from a hidden sheath, making it known to the demon. Blessed by a shaman. His eyes flashed with intrigue.
At the center, Ginjo remained loose, laid-back, and disinterested to the bullshit Ichigo was about to pull. Hah. Need to keep an eye on him.
On his left stood Grimmjow, the poor thing. Harassed, vulnerable, and angry, Ichigo noticed the precious mark on his throat had faded somewhat over the last few days, his miserable body trying to heal the wounds he’d etched so delicately.
Still believing he would outsmart Zangetsu.
The demon hummed, taking hold of the pendant. So far, so good. “Okay. ”
Grimmjow blinked, and Ichigo stood before him. Outside the circle. He gasped.
Ichigo took hold of his throat and squeezed. “I’ll take my winnings now.”
Jackie ran at him with the blade aimed high, Ichigo easily dodging and knocked the knife out of her hand. But he was met with surprise – Jackie dodged him and managed to get a solid boot in his stomach, releasing Grimmjow and knocking him several feet back. He had to laugh. Certainly didn’t see that coming. “Nice. Definitely warriors in your ancestral line.” Violence was in his smile.
Jackie abandoned Grimmjow to run full-speed at Ichigo. Like she was controlled. She threw a kick and a punch and missed – Ichigo hauled her over his back and tossed her against the wall, Jackie crying out in pain.
Ichigo made a tsking noise at Grimmjow, swinging the Labradorite like a pendulum. “What are you afraid of, Grimmjow? ” the demon mocked. “Looks like your cute plan failed. There is no soul strong enough to stop me.”
Grimmjow saw the knife close by, over Ichigo’s shoulder. Too risky.
Grimmjow grit his teeth and snarled. “I ain’t afraid of you. You’re in the body of a witch. They’re all about cleansing and purity these days.”
Reaching into his back pocket, Grimmjow felt ridiculous holding it up before the demon like a crucifix and holy water.
As he suspected, Ichigo broke into laughter. “The Moon?! Have you lost your mind?”
“Sure did.” Grimmjow used the card like a weapon and tossed it at Ichigo’s chest. Smacking it away from himself, Grimmjow used the distraction and dove to grab the knife. With a fast turn, he lunged and Ichigo couldn’t evade.
Grimmjow took hold of the amulet and plunged the knife into Ichigo’s chest. A gasping sound clawed its way up from Ichigo’s lungs. Grimmjow refused to let go of the hilt, Ichigo’s hands grappling around his own in agony and panic.
Ichigo kneed Grimmjow in the balls and he yelped, releasing his hold.
Ichigo forcefully yanked the knife out.
“Gotcha you sonovabitch.”
Glossy green light shot through Ichigo’s chest and he howled.
Ginjo stood outside the circle locked in a stance of power. Hands in a form of prayer, Ginjo’s rosary circled his fingers as he bellowed, “Cross!”
A burst of light slashed Ichigo’s eyes, tears of blood running down his cheeks. Grimmjow shouted Ichigo’s name.
Appearing unconscious, Ichigo slumped forward. Though he didn’t collapse. More like a marionette awaiting its strings to be pulled.
Ginjo smirked.
The little glare of mossy light cauterizing his shirt was all that reacted, bobbing in curious waves while waiting to fully ignite. A peculiar aurora borealis.
A rumble of laughter came from the exorcist. Something Grimmjow preferred to never hear again. “Surprised? That knife’s meant to extinguish souls living inside their host.” Ginjo squeezed his fingers tighter, the flare extending by an inch. His smirk grew even more villainous. “Ever wonder what heatstroke feels like? I’ll burn you from the inside out.”
Ginjo edged closer. “We bring full our power . . .”
Ichigo’s body spasmed, shouting in pain. The demon roared at the ceiling.
Ginjo spoke to the creature, as if pitying it. “I researched that symbol Ichigo designed to keep you from hurting Grimmjow. He used Labradorite to cleanse his spirit of all the heartache he’s suffered in recent years. He allowed you into the Stone of Magic, but you misjudged his character. Ichigo invited all of us into his heart. Because all truly strong people are kind.”
Ginjo took a moment to study Grimmjow, doing his best to keep Jackie safe from the chaos. “The strongest people know the worst life has to offer. That he's able to be gentle and kind is truly a mastery. Especially when it comes to forgiving yourself. Being kind is its own type of magic.” Ginjo faced the struggling demon, fanged teeth snarling and gritting.
He split his hands downward, and the demon collapsed. Ginjo walked up to it and let the rosary dangle above Ichigo’s head. “All of what makes Ichigo the man he is comes from strength. What protects Ichigo is love.”
Grimmjow couldn’t speak, knowing that was directed at him.
“The New Moon will become full again. I cleanse you from this world.”
+++
It was a bittersweet end.
Ichigo finished his last reading on a Friday night, expected to be in Canada by the next. The aging woman had been sweet, held both his hands in her bony ones as she thanked him, and after an unnecessary kiss on the forehead, left a $100 tip. For gas or whatever he’d need on the road.
Jackie gave Ichigo a firm handshake and wished him luck. Ginjo wasn’t present, although Ichigo said he’d be in touch.
Helping Ichigo pack was weird. It wasn’t like he had a ton of stuff, but it was odd to walk in and find most of the walls barren, his shelves empty. All the furniture would stay, but the sheets and clothing would be the crux of the next two days. Hilarious, because all the dude practically wore was black.
Grimmjow hadn’t been there fifteen minutes before they started making out. It just sort of happened. A flirty look from the reader thanks to his dark lashes and edgy makeup and a shared laugh over a stupid joke. Then they were on Ichigo's bed. At first Grimmjow had the upper hand, Ichigo writhing beneath him, several breathy moans as hands skimmed down his belly. Then Grimmjow was on his back, staring up at the ginger who pressed a delicate kiss across his brow. A longing look in those dark eyes.
"You always look so sad," Grimmjow remarked. "Lighten up a little." A hand came up to the side of Ichigo's face.
"Guess it comes with the job description," Ichigo returned, and gave a wistful smile.
"Nah. Think you're just moody."
"Coming from the guy who always looks like he's brooding," Ichigo countered.
Grimmjow smirked. "Got me there."
A light dust of color stretched across his face. Ichigo's voice was sober when he admitted, "Thought that was hot when you walked in. Not only are you pretty, but you have such a great body too. That's the first thing I noticed when you walked in. Swagger."
“You think I'm pretty?” Grimmjow teased.
Ichigo looked away, the blush patting his cheeks now simmering.
Hands smoothed up his form, and as if hesitating, Ichigo pulled away, fixing the hem of Grimmjow's shirt. He was growing antsy. “Grimmjow . . .”
“This your first time?”
The sentence hung in the air.
Ichigo made an openly annoyed face. “I'm clearly more experienced than that.”
Grimmjow laughed hard. “Well, then I'll admit it. This is my first time with a guy. So I don't know what to expect.”
That seemed to relax the reader. “Oh good. Least I know you're not expecting me to do backflips.”
He chuckled again. It was odd how at ease he felt with Ichigo. He really wanted this to be the right decision. Grimmjow put a hand on Ichigo's hip, thumb smoothing against the fabric. “Nah. Pony rides only.” And Grimmjow winked, wondering if his overconfidence might be too bold, even for him.
A cheap sort of smile appeared on Ichigo’s face.
“I have a better idea.”
Ichigo moved a pillow from beside Grimmjow and pressed it to his chest. “Let’s play a game.” He played with the corners as he waited for Grimmjow to respond.
“A game?” He smirked. “I like the sound of that.” Ichigo was practically sitting on his chest, crushing the air out of him, but he liked the feeling.
“Hmm . . . How about . . . we see how long we can hold our breath.”
And Ichigo smiled, an eerie sort of way. Shadows haunted his face.
There was a strangeness to that sentence, holding Grimmjow taut, more than someone squeezing his beating heart. Something wrong about it. It wasn’t the inflection of a question. It was something Grimmjow didn’t want to know the outcome of.
“What?” he whispered.
He should’ve bucked Ichigo off when he had the chance.
The pillow smashed over his face and he shouted, Grimmjow turning his face to the side. He began flailing, but his legs were like lead, heavy and impossible to move. Grimmjow began to attack Ichigo – his ribs, his skull, wherever he could reach. To no avail. Ichigo wasn’t scrawny but Grimmjow should have been able to overpower him! Why couldn’t he?!
Grimmjow smacked, clawed, punched, pulled, yelled – despite his best judgment to conserve air – and Ichigo only pressed the pillow into his face harder, cutting off his air supply and suffocating him further.
Ichigo laughed. Sickeningly. Preposterously. Hysterically.
Not him.
The ritual had failed.
And it all started to fade. His thoughts, his willpower . . . without strength or oxygen Grimmjow was literally dying beneath Ichigo. He knew that. And he was still shocked. Senses hyper-aware, Grimmjow gave one last punch to Ichigo’s face, feeling his jaw smash, knowing those bones broke, knowing he should have stopped to process the pain.
But Ichigo . . .
wouldn’t stop . . .
smothering him . . .
It might have been an hour until Ichigo had the decency to budge, removing the pillow from Grimmjow’s face to find distraught features and mouth slightly agape. Ichigo was huffing, like they’d really gone at it. He was almost sorry they didn’t get a chance to fuck.
Excited hands slid down the column of Grimmjow’s throat, Ichigo finding a string tucked into his T-shirt.
It was a protection charm he distinctly remembered Jackie selling several months back. To Nel. When she first started coming to La Fortuna and wanted to “support the small business.”
Puh. People loved that shit.
What was funny though was that it was rose quartz, meant for unconditional love.
Ichigo had schmoozed her into the idea that wearing it would protect her while her heart yearned for love, or if she were already in love be used to protect them.
Vice versa, all that crap.
Ichigo felt a sting as he rolled his shoulders around.
Yanking off the black longsleeve to inspect in the mirror, eight bloody rows from where Grimmjow scratched his flesh off gleamed in the bedroom light, curved around his back and looking like some fucked up caricature of Michalangelo’s winged demons.
The idea made a garish smile form on his face.
He latched Grimmjow’s rose quartz around his neck. After all, Grimmjow had realized Ichigo always took some little bit of the place where he lived with him on his journey.
And now Grimmjow could become part of that journey as Ichigo snaked his way cross-country. He was a drifter, a camper; he liked to be one with nature.
It would be only natural for Grimmjow’s corpse to become one with it.
Ichigo hauled Grimmjow by the ankle toward the edge of his bed. Smoothing up a long leg, an open palm grabbed his knee and covered it with warmth. Another hand wrapped around his inner thigh.
There was something so satisfying as Ichigo hovered over the cooling body, catching his reflection in the mirror once more. Finding a stark contrast between the man who’d become a tarot reader, and the demon who’d won the elements of his soul.
Ichigo’s tawny eyes widened. The reflection beat against the mirror, a silent scream while he witnessed the demon pull a hunting knife from his back pocket.
The knife slashed Grimmjow’s shirt, then poised over the stilled heart.
“Ah.”
If only Grimmjow could’ve seen in those fleeting moments all the good that’d come from knocking Ichigo’s table over.
He would’ve realized it’d all been worth it.