Mirage Moves

"Hey, come with me."

Victor looked up from his laptop, where he'd been busy rearranging Michel Rose's schedule for the next few weeks. Of course, the man himself had no problem interrupting his work. He leaned over the table, fists on his hips.

Victor had to admit he was a little surprised, since it was the first time Mirage had spoken to him all day. Oh well, no point in complaining. An order was an order.

He got up, closing the laptop, Mirage swept off without even checking if Victor was following. Victor did, of course.

As Mirage led him through the halls of the Infernal Legion's headquarters – a rather nice Victorian mansion on the outskirts of town – Victor idly wondered where they were going. A mission seemed unlikely, considering Greisen had yet to assign the two of them a single one.

The mansion was silent and empty; Victor guessed the others were doing drills in the lair. Which gave Mirage free reign for the moment. Undoubtedly, he was up to something Greisen wouldn't approve of.

What role Victor had to play in it, he didn't know. And he didn't need to. All he needed to do was follow his orders.

No need to think, or to feel. Or to remember the things Theo had said to him.

As he stared at Mirage's back, Victor fought down a bizarre squirm of guilt. He hadn't told his captain about the meeting in the cafe. Why it bothered him, he had no idea. It was nothing Mirage needed to know, and it wasn't like Victor trusted him enough to confide in him.

'The only person I trust is Theo….' But even in his thoughts, the words sounded wan, halfhearted. Because there were things Theo had kept hidden from him all this time. Things he'd had no idea about.

When they started down a staircase, Victor realized with a jolt that they were heading for the basement. Which meant –

Sure enough, the stairs ended at a locked door. Mirage produced a key with a flourish and unlocked it, swinging it wide open.

Victor followed Mirage into the basement. In the dimness, he made out about a dozen silhouettes arranged across the floor like mannequins. They were perfectly still, the only sign of life their soft, steady breathing.

This was where the Infernal Legion stored its thralls when they weren't being used. It had unnerved Victor a little at first, but he'd quickly gotten over it.

Mirage led Victor to the very back of the basement. He hadn't turned on the lights – his demon eyes could manage just fine. Victor walked a little more carefully, but it didn't take his vision to adjust.

Three thralls stood against the back wall, as blank-eyed and slack-jawed as the rest. They seemed like a family – a distinguished-looking man, a blond woman, and a boy who had to be their son.

Seeing the boy made something uncomfortable twist in Victor's chest. He hadn't known the Legion made such young thralls.

"Who are they?" he asked before he could stop himself. Though he kept his voice a whisper, it seemed to echo in the silent space.

Mirage threw him a sharp look, making Victor wish he'd stayed quiet. Then Mirage shrugged and turned back to the thralls. "The Enson family. Apparently they're a big deal among wizards."

Indeed, Victor had heard that name during his days on the streets. He'd never imagined he would end up meeting them like this.

Mirage stepped forward and rested his hand on the side of the boy's face, his touch surprisingly gentle. He tilted the boy's head up, but the boy didn't react in any way, not even blinking his big blue eyes.

What was Mirage doing? If these were the Ensons, then they undoubtedly belonged to the highest-ranking troops – Greisen and his inner circle. Did Mirage intend to steal them for himself?

That seemed reckless even by his usual standards. Victor wondered if he should perhaps raise an objection, but that was when Mirage cast him an expectant look over his shoulder.

"Don't just stand there. I need you to do your part – as my wizard."

"Excuse me?" Victor blurted, wondering if he had misheard.

Mirage sighed. "Must I repeat myself? Cast an elemental spell on me. You do know how to do it, don't you?"

"I do," Victor answered automatically, but his mind was racing. Yes, he cast this spell quite frequently, but only on his armor. In all his time as Mirage's wizard, he'd never once used a spell on his familiar.

Now...Mirage intended to use his elemental powers? Though Victor knew it wasn't his place, he had to wonder why.

When Mirage snapped his fingers in his face, Victor blinked. The demon looked annoyed. "Hurry up. We haven't much time."

"Yes, Captain." Victor responded more as a reflex than anything. But all for the better; his job wasn't to think, it was to do.

So he closed his eyes and gathered his Levia. It didn't take much effort to picture the correct diagram, infusing its lines with his cold purple light. When a corresponding chill flared beneath him, he knew he had succeeded in casting it.

Normally, he sent this power into his armor's hungry, grasping claws. This time, he directed it across the contract. The Levia sputtered a little, as if unused to traveling down this channel, but Victor didn't stop pushing. It flowed through, and a thrill ran down his spine when his Levia met Mirage's.

It felt much like it did when they exchanged Levia – a subtle dark presence that, to Victor's mind, took the form not of light but sensation. Whispers just out of earshot. A fleeting scent of roses.

One might think his icy Levia would easily overwhelm it. Instead, he felt the purple light quiet and soften in response, as if it was being tamed. A strange feeling, but not an entirely unwelcome one.

As his heartbeat pounded, Victor opened his eyes. The purple glow from the diagram cast harsh highlights and shadows across the entire basement, making him feel as if he'd entered a dream. Squinting, he made out Mirage's slender silhouette in front of him.

The demon still had his hand on the Enson boy's face. Victor saw no flashy light show or pyrotechnics, but it made sense considering Mirage's powers involved illusions. Whatever he was doing, only he and the boy had any idea. But Victor could feel the demon's intense concentration through their contract, humming like a string pulled taut.

Sweat beaded on the back of his neck; his head began to ache. Whatever Mirage was doing, it was drawing out large amounts of his Levia.

Just when he feared his knees might buckle, the connection snapped shut. The Levia stopped flowing and the diagram splintered to nothing. Victor stumbled, disoriented by the sudden change in lighting.

To his surprise, a slim, cool hand closed around his wrist. Then Mirage's grip tightened and he leaned up toward Victor, golden eyes glinting in triumph.

"My, you're breathing quite hard. Did that take too much out of you?"

In no way was his concern genuine, but the question didn't hold any malice, either. Mirage was too happy for that. If anything, he seemed to be teasing Victor.

Victor answered as solemnly as he always did. "It's nothing, Captain."

Mirage snickered and tugged on Victor's wrist, forcing him to step closer. Before he could figure out what was going on, Mirage leaned forward and pressed his lips to Victor's.

The kiss was brief, but Victor felt a telltale flare through his Levia. When Mirage pulled away, he wore a cheeky grin.

"There. Gave you back a little bit. You know, you don't make for a half-bad wizard."

Humming to himself, he pranced toward the basement door. Victor threw the Ensons one last glance – they remained stiff and silent as ever – before following. He felt like he'd been spun through a hurricane, and still had no idea what Mirage intended with the Enson boy.

Well, as long as he was in a good mood.