Thanks to Isi for Beta-ing.

Enjoy!

Three

The next day he found himself watching Nick a lot more. If Gerald watched Nick then he didn't see the dark shadows under Jamie's eyes and the way his hand kept moving to his hip. If he watched Nick, he didn't see Anzu always watching him out the corner of his eye, waiting for him to make a mistake, to give himself away.

If he watched Nick, he could lie to himself that little bit better.

But sometimes he was distracted. He saw Jamie flinch when people brushed too close in the corridors. He saw the way he didn't look up or meet people's eyes. He saw him rest his head on his hands in class and thought now he looked more like a boy who needed to be saved. He told himself this was a good thing.

When Jamie and Nick split up, he sent Anzu after Nick. It was probably the wrong decision, but Jamie was heading back into the alleyway and he didn't trust Anzu to intervene before Seb's gang killed him.

Only – once again – it wasn't Seb's gang waiting in the alley. It was Seb, who closed his fingers around Jamie's forearm and pulled him around. Jamie was still looking at the floor. That was good. That meant he was pulling away from Seb and closer to Gerald.

"What's wrong with you?" Seb asked, trying to pull Jamie nearer.

Jamie tried to jerk his arm free but – unsurprisingly – it didn't work. "Two days in a row? What, did I win the lottery?" He pulled his arm again. "And you can let go any time now."

Seb didn't.

"Seriously, Crawford, you haven't looked up from the floor once today."

"Because you've really been watching." Jamie tugged his arm again, more a gesture than anything else it seemed.

Seb grabbed his other arm. "What's wrong with you?" Then his hand moved to touch Jamie's hip and the boy jerked away hard enough to break his grip.

"What's wrong with me?" Jamie hissed. "What's wrong with me is my boyfriend beats me up more often than he kisses me. What's wrong with me is my parents don't even lookat me anymore and my sister thinks she can run my life. What's wrong with me is I'm dreaming of... fuck." He slammed his hand backwards and sparks of magic shot from his fingers into the wall. Gerald pressed his wings tight against his body so he wouldn't turn them back in his arms and pull Jamie close and tell him that he didn't belong here. Parents were overrated and he didn't need them. Gerald had never needed them.

"And," Jamie finished coldly. "It's not like you really care."

Seb snarled and pushed him back against the wall. Gerald clenched his talons against the roof and didn't fly into Seb's face to tell him that Jamie needed a hug and needed to be pulled out of the way. "Fuck you, Crawford," the bully hissed. "Fuck you."

And Jamie raised his eyes from the ground to stare directly into the face Gerald hated completely now. "Go on then."

Gerald flew up in the air and away.

Being a bird wasn't satisfying so he found a dark alley and turned back into a human. Humans had hands, hands that could curl into fists which could punch walls. Which hurt, and didn't make anything better.

He wondered what it would take to get into a fight in this town. Perhaps he should buy himself a lavender shirt and get a piercing. Only he had more pride that that. Or it was nice to think he had more pride than that.

This is your fault, said a small voice in the back of his mind. You got him marked which made him mopey and that encouraged Seb to cheer him up.

Gerald scowled, pushing the voice away. Jamie didn't need cheering up. He was a magician trying to pass for a pathetic human creature. He needed rescuing and teaching. He didn't need some human pulling him aside and telling him everything was going to be okay until he started believing their lies.

He kicked a dustbin over, strewing rubbish all over the pavement and causing an old woman to glare at him. Gerald added her to his mental list of potential demon fodder. A list that would never have Jamie on it Ever Again.

He could blast the rubbish. Burn it down to ashes and dust right here in front of her wrinkly old eyes. What would she think then? Would she run screaming of witches through the town and bring the Spanish Inquisition down upon then?

No. She would run back to her little old house filled with floral patterns. She would make herself a cup of tea in a china mug and talk herself out of the belief that magic could possibly be real. She could see it every day for the rest of her limited life and every night she would go to bed thinking her eyes were just getting worse.

It was pathetic and it was what they hid from and some magicians even tried to join the human world. They tried to get jobs and act human. They did small bits of magic to make their pathetic human lives better.

And Jamie didn't even do that. He was strong enough to, surely? Just a few sparks would be enough to get the bullies to at least leave him alone. But he didn't even try and it was so stupidand –

His mobile vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, raising it to his ear without even looking at the screen. "What?"

There was a moment of silence on the line, as though whoever it was could not quite believe their over-privileged ears. "I'm sorry?" Black Arthur asked, all smooth like a cat about to pounce.

Gerald kicked some of the trash and glared at the old woman until he realised he was acting like a teenager who'd been spurned by his latest crush. He turned his back on the rubbish and the woman and walked away. "Black Arthur," he said, clipped but not actively antagonistic.

"You didn't check in yesterday. Laura was worried about you."

Because you don't feel emotion, of course. "I was out late," he lied. "Watching."

"Did you see Olivia at all?" Arthur asked, in the way that suggested he was preparing a sonnet or two in her honour. "Does she pine for me?"

Gerald didn't snort outwardly because one could get Possessed for that, but he did roll his eyes. "I'm sure she does, sir," he replied, which was a complete lie because from what he'd seen Olivia was just mad and didn't pine for anyone.

"Is there anything to report?"

The words the magician got marked did not even reach the front of his mind. When Arthur asked for a report, you didn't tell him the truth. You told him the good news and hoped the bad would vanish soon enough. "Nothing new with the demon or the magician, sir."

"Magician?"

He should've known better than to expect Arthur to remember something that didn't revolve around Arthur and his Fantastic Plans. "I found a magician, sir. A young one. I was going to invite him to join the circle."

"You were going to invite him, were you?"

Gerald cursed silently at the poor choice of words. "I was going to invite him to visit the Circle, is what I meant to say," he corrected quickly. "So you could meet him and decide. He is very, very unhappy here. The humans are giving him a hard time, he needs to escape."

"Humans," Black Arthur pronounced. "Never understand our kind. Very well, you may bring your Magician to the Circle. But only when there is another magician free to take your place watching the demon, understood?"

"Of course, sir." He hoped he didn't sound too relieved about being given more time.

"Where are you now?"

Gerald looked around the street he was on. There was a hardware store and a small shop that sold cakes but no street signs. "Outside the house, of course."

"Can they see you? You have to be careful, Gerald. I cannot afford for you to make a mistake that will ruin all of this. Laura has great faith in you, it's true, but –"

Gerald hung up on him. He would probably be made to regret it later, but he didn't need to hear Arthur telling him again how much hung in the balance here. He didn't need reminding that any antagonistic behaviour towards Arthur from the demon was a direct result of his failings rather than Arthur's decision to stick it in a human body then let it go and never get it back.

Because of course, leaving the one thing you cared about – or thought you cared about – in the hands of something else that might twist them and turn them away from you was a really really bad idea.

Gerald swore, looked up and down the street, then turned into a bird again and headed back towards the school.

He thought for a moment he had missed Jamie entirely, but a quick scan for magic soon found a likely direction and after a few moments he found him, sitting on the pavement with his back against a building and his head between his knees.

Gerald landed on the pavement in front of him. A few buttons were undone on Jamie's shirt and his hair was messed up but other than that he didn't look particularly violated. Then again, Gerald had no idea how you worked out something like that. Was this an after-sex look or an after-beatings look or a completely unrelated look.

It occurred to Gerald briefly that he was totally unequipped to deal with both crushes and teenagers. He sort of wished Laura was here. But if Laura came Gerald would be asked questions he couldn't answer and Jamie would become her project and not his.

He attempted a comforting caw, but it just made Jamie look at him strangely and stand up, stretching his arms out. As he did so, his shirt raised very slightly and Gerald saw the two small lines on his hip.

He fought the urge to be sick. They could just be scratches, they could be any sort of scratches it if wasn't for the ugly, dark sensation crawling from them. They were a gateway, a path to Anzu's world. A way to let the demons in.

He flew up to the roof where he couldn't see anything other than a sandy head. He stayed high all the way home, flying high enough that Jamie wouldn't get suspicious, but low enough that he wouldn't lose sight of his prey.

He pushed down thoughts of Seb and Black Arthur. All there was now was him and Jamie. Jamie going home, and he'd said his parents didn't care about him and boy did Gerald know what that was like. Maybe it even made sense, with Seb. Reaching out for a connection, any connection.

He wondered if Jamie's parents knew about the magic, or if they just felt that something was inherently wrong with their son. He wondered, briefly, if they knew he was gay. He silently swore that if that was the problem, he would watch them both burn.

Jamie lived in a mansion. Gerald had never lived in a mansion. He landed on a windowsill and pushed that resentment away with all the rest. They were kindred spirits, they were orphans in a parent-filled world. Gerald watched Jamie drop his bag, call out to an empty house. Gerald flew up and stood on another windowsill while Jamie showered behind a translucent window. He continued to observe through Jamie's bedroom window while he pulled out some homework, did a few questions, then threw the books aside.

He looked away while Jamie cried. It didn't seem right to watch.

There was a sound, and Gerald heard it at the same time as Jamie. He raised his head in surprise and wiped his eyes with one arm. His mouth formed a word Gerald couldn't make out. Was it mum? Was this his mum coming home? Was she going to shut him in the back garden?

Gerald flew down before Jamie could get up, hanging on a downstairs window to see a pink haired girl drop her bag by the door and call loud enough to hear through the glass. "Jamie!" She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the stairs. "Jamie!"

Gerald flew up again, reaching Jamie's window in time to see him rubbing his eyes hard as though that would make the redness better rather that worse. "Just a minute!" he called, loud enough for Gerald to hear but apparently not loud enough for pink-hair who barreled through his door at a rate of knots.

Gerald couldn't help it; he had to know what they were saying whether Jamie could sense the magic or not.

"I said just a minute," Jamie protested, still holding his hands up to his face.

"You were supposed to meet me after debate, we were supposed to walk home together." She grabbed his arms, examining them ruthlessly. "You're going to get bruises again, you idiot." Then she had pulled his arms down and his face was bare and it was so completely apparent that had been crying, was really still crying, that Gerald wanted to break through the window and pull him away from this pink haired monster. Gerald wanted to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay.

Then the pink haired girl let out a long sigh and wrapped her arms around Jamie, pulling him close. "You idiot," she said in a gentle, mothering way. "Just tell me who it was, Jamie. Tell me who it was and we can get something done about it."

Gerald didn't fall over, but it was a close thing. No, he thought, with a violence that surprised even him. No, he's mine. Don't you dare, don't you dare.

Jamie didn't pull out of the hug, but he did shake his head. "Just leave it, okay?"

"No, it's not okay." The girl held him at arm's length and sighed. "I just want to help you, Jamie."

No you don't. You want to hold him down, cage him up. Gerald flew back from the window so he wouldn't be tempted to smash it.

Jamie leant back into her arms, apparently finding comfort there, and Gerald felt an ache burning inside because the pink haired girl was holding him. Gerald couldn't remember ever being held like that. Jamie was leaning against her, trusting her, and how was Gerald supposed to pull him away from this?

Gerald left, before someone got hurt, flying back to Black Arthur's house faster than should've been possible. He flew in through an open window, and changed back into his magician form in the time it took to drop to a heap on the floor.

Gerald thought of Jamie kissing tall, dark boys then going home to his mansion house where a pink haired girl would hug him, cook him dinner and ask about his day. And he knew it wasn't Jamie's fault, but how dare he be happy? How dare he have everything Gerald had wanted?

He didn't even realise exactly how angry he was until he was standing in front of Anzu and Anzu was hanging in the air with its back to Gerald and was saying "how did it go?" in his smarmy, mocking voice and Gerald was clenching his hands into fists and saying: "Mark him again."

The demon dropped his head to look between his legs at Gerald. "What?"

Gerald's hands shook and this was why he didn't let himself get emotionally involved, why he always kept such a safe distance between life and everything else. "Go to a window, his window, whatever the words you want me to use. Just get him marked."

Anzu flipped around fully so he was facing Gerald, and the demon was still looking confused and not moving. "I suppose you want power..."

Gerald shook his head and his voice was low and cold and it scared him. "Whatever, if you like, justgo!"

And then Anzu was finally gone and Gerald was left slamming his fists into the wall and cursing his luck and alone.