Stolen Love

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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: Stolen Love The third and final installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips

2

A Wonderous Place

I steered south and drove us around the base of the mountain. The vast estate that Shawn and I owned came into view as we rounded the farthest extreme of Fidum's carving. I'd often come up with fanciful names for the place; names like Philipsburg or Summas Palace. I even called it Shawn's secret dark place' for a day until he scolded me over it. None of the names stuck, so we all called our home the estate.'

It was a low-rise black glass structure set about one-hundred-and-fifty yards from the southern base of the mountain. Shawn and I had tried to make the house as much a part of the landscape as possible. Black glass had seemed the best building material as it was the same color as the mountain stone.

I drove around behind the three-story center section of the main house and backed the Vic into its spot in the four-place garage that faced the mountain. Paul and I got out of the car. I told him to leave his bags, that I'd see to them later. First, I wanted to show him around. We walked outside through the open garage door to face the climbing wall.

To accommodate Shawn's hobby, and as a surprise for his thirty-fourth birthday, I'd worked with a designer of artificial mountains to create a recreational climbing wall from the southern face of the mountain. The designer had been a woman of advanced years whose defining characteristic was being as dry and as coarse as a piece of rawhide. She'd used the natural contours of the cliff face of the Demon's Citadel to design several lanes of different skill levels from the base of the mountain, all the way to its thousand-foot summit.

Her team of installers added holds to the beginners' section and carved away holds from the advanced until they achieved a nice balance. They also dug a deep trench the length of the wall and out one-hundred-and-fifty feet from the base of the mountain and installed inertia padding to catch anyone that fell.

I'd witnessed tests of the padding using full sized dummies and watermelons. According to the tests, a free fall from the summit was not only survivable, but aside from the inevitable soiled undergarments, no physical harm would come to the faller. I'd also had a locker room, restroom, and a gang shower installed in the base of the mountain for the convenience of climbers.

Paul looked up at the mountainside and noticed that my nephew, Andy and his mousy boyfriend, were climbing about two hundred feet from the ground. I gave Paul a quick rundown on the functionality of the inertia padding, as he seemed quite nervous at the site of the shirtless young men free climbing so far from the unforgiving ground.

"I thought this mountain was volcanic." Paul observed with his eyes on the cliff face and his hands in his pockets.

"It is." I answered without understanding the point of his question.

"But it looks like something from Monument Valley." Paul referred to the National Park in Utah where many classic western films were shot.

I understood his comment after he made that reference. The side of the mountain that faced the house wasn't black anymore. It had been transformed into a layer cake of warm colors, browns, reds, oranges, yellows, and warm greys. My brother, Joe, had painted it.

"It's a mural." I explained. "Joe did it. It took him a full year. He worked on it constantly. It's one of his proudest achievements. It looks like sedimentary rock from a distance, but it's an impressionist piece. I'll give you some free advice...compliment it if you want, ask him to tell you about it if you're interested, but don't, under any circumstances, ask him what it's supposed to be. He says that kind of question shows a basic misunderstanding of the purpose of art and will likely get you a lecture."

Paul had opened his mouth to say something when shouts from the cliff face captured our attention. Andy and his boyfriend had reached a resting ledge on the intermediate section of the wall and were waving to us from it.

"UNCLE CHURCH!" Andy shouted down. "IF I JUMP, WILL YOU CATCH ME?"

I felt Andy's mind probe mine, as he used it to ask for control of my magic. I held my hands above my head, palms facing him, to stop him from doing anything rash until I could explain to Paul. "That's Andy up there." I pointed to identify my nephew from his boyfriend. "He and his boyfriend are staying at the estate for a while, during the fashion off-season. Andy is a Second-Class empath. He's a clairvoyant and has lower-level mind control abilities."

I noticed that Paul stared at me. He didn't get what I was saying. I tried to clarify. "Andy reads minds and can control others if they don't object to being controlled. He figured out how to use his mind to take control of my magic so he can fly like superman. I'm gonna let him do it as long as you won't freak out when he jumps off the wall."

"He can fly?" Paul asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

I didn't think any amount of spoken description would be able to explain how Andy flew, so I decided that showing was better than telling. "Just watch and don't worry." I said to Paul and turned toward my nephew. "GO AHEAD!" I yelled up the mountain and opened my mind to Andy.

I felt his will take control of my magic and my power activated. My telekinesis reached out to him and wrapped around his body to securely support his weight. Andy took a flying leap off the cliff ledge and dove like he'd jumped from a high-dive springboard into an Olympic pool.

In spite of my warning, Paul freaked out as Andy accelerated toward the ground. I knew that Andy was secure in my magic, and I also knew that even if he wasn't, the inertia padding would ensure he didn't come to harm, but Paul didn't know that.

Paul gripped my right arm, like he was trying to climb up my body with just his hands. He screamed his terror in my ear. "SAVE HIM! DO SOMETHING!" He cried.

Mere feet from the ground, Andy pulled out of the dive and soared up into the sky. He spread his arms wide like a little kid running around a school yard, pretending to be an airplane. Andy looped and barrel-rolled and showed off like anyone would if they were suddenly gifted the power of flight.

He swooped down and buzzed Paul and I, took off again toward the noon day sun, doubled back and rocketed toward us. He threw the brakes on, stopped and hovered, upright, three feet off the ground in front of us. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and smirked, like he knew he was a showoff, and he was right.

Paul released my arm. The tension seemed to leave the old man as Andy floated, perfectly safe, but just out of arm's reach. "Sorry if I scared you." The boy said, disingenuously.

"Liar!" I accused.

Andy ignored me and focused on Paul. I could tell Paul was trying to see the fifteen-year-old boy he remembered in the twenty-seven-year-old man who hovered before him. They were the same person, but no more than just a little similar in appearance. The Andy that Paul had known was a slim boy with dirty blond hair and no more than five-feet-eight or nine inches in height. The current Andy was six-foot-three, lean and rangy with defined muscle, and a ton of masculine confidence that his fifteen-year-old counterpart could only dream about.

Andy had hit an unexpected growth spurt when he was seventeen and shot up like a weed that appears overnight. His dirty blond hair had darkened to a sun-kissed brown that was matted to his head with the sweat of exertion. He usually wore it shaved close to his head on the sides and let it grow out on top to pile up on his head so he could brush it back and to his right in a rakish pompadour. Andy also wore a close beard, about two or three times the thickness of a five o'clock shadow. The facial hair highlighted the leanness of his face and his strong features.

Andy lowered his hovering height to six inches above the ground and offered his hand to Paul. They shook and Andy started talking. "Great to see you again, Father Miller. I know I don't look like I used to, but I promise it's me...and I am sorry about scaring you."

My nephew kept talking and didn't let poor Paul get a word in edgewise. "Oh, sorry...I didn't know you didn't want to be called `Father' anymore."

Surprise appeared on Paul's face, and he started to say something when Andy cut him off. "I can call you Paul if you want," the boy shook his head at the old man, "or not. No, you're right, I probably am a little young to call you by your first name. How about Mister Miller?" Andy shook his head again and recrossed his arms over his chest. "Not that either? You're right, too formal." Andy nodded at Paul. "Mister Paul sounds perfect. I'll call you that."

Andy spun around and looked up at the mountain to see the boyfriend he'd abandoned on the resting ledge on the cliff face. "I'm sorry...I left Com up there all by himself. I'll go get him and introduce you."

Andy flew off and left me with a stunned Paul. I deliberately moved into Paul's line of sight because he didn't seem to be able to tear his eyes from the spot Andy had just vacated. "I'm sorry about that." I said to apologize to Paul. "I meant to warn you. Andy's clairvoyance can be a pain in the ass.

"He reads minds, like I said before. Surface thoughts and stream of consciousness is easiest for him. Since his capacity has gotten bigger, and since reading minds doesn't require much magic, he tends to leave his power engaged all the time. The only way to stop him is to think of something gross or shocking. That normally shuts him down."

Paul used the palm of his right hand to push his gaping lower jaw against the upper one and rub his chin. "He flew." Paul breathed. Apparently, flight was more amazing than mind reading.

"Yeah, he uses my telekinesis to do it."

Paul tore his gaze from the spot where Andy had floated and directed crazed eyes at me. "He flew." Paul insisted.

"Sort of. I told you that part of his power is limited mind control. I let him control my mind enough to use my power to fly around. HIS will uses MY magic on HIS body." I pointed up the mountain to where Andy was trying to coax his boyfriend off the ledge and into the air. I felt my magic wrap around the boyfriend as he allowed himself to be coaxed.

I anticipated an eventual question about how multiple people could use my power to fly and explained. "Andy can read multiple minds at once, so he just opened himself to his boyfriend and is passing his boyfriend's will through his mind to my power so they can both fly independently."

Paul blinked at me, a hard, eyes squeezed shut, athletic blink. "And when we were talking, he read my mind...so all those things he said...he saw what I was thinking and filled in the blanks." Paul said as a question.

"Yup. Disturbing, isn't it?"

Paul nodded a single, deep nod to physically represent his astonishment. "This truly is a wonderous place." He paused and seemed to consider something. He opened his mouth with an objection. "What did you mean when you said his capacity got bigger? I thought you told me before that magic capacity was fixed."

I rubbed the back of my neck with my right palm as was my habit when I was embarrassed or nervous. The explanation I was about to give made me a little of both. "Yeah...that's my fault. It seems that spending time around me, with my constant magic overflow, it actually stretches the capacities of those around me.

"Shawn can explain it better, but it's kind of like making a habit of over-eating. Each time you do it, you stretch your stomach a little bit and a little bit and a little bit, until it takes more and more food to fill you up. My magic does the same thing to everyone's capacity. Everyone around me has had their capacity enlarged, some by a lot."

"Fascinating." Paul exhaled in a breathy exclamation. He seemed to have more to say, but he didn't get a chance to say it, because Andy picked that moment to swoop down and land in front of us with his boyfriend in tow.

Instead of hovering, they both landed and stood to face Paul and me. As soon as they touched down, I felt my power release and Andy's presence withdraw from my mind. Andy's mousy boyfriend registered a complaint. "I hate when you make me do that!" He griped in a deep but nasal voice.

The mousy man immediately busied himself upon landing as he seemed to have a self-conscious qualm about meeting people when he was only half dressed. He snatched his plain white t-shirt from the shirt loop on the back of his plain black shorts and pulled it over his soft torso. He used both his hands to smooth his sweat-slicked mop of wavy, mahogany brown hair, but didn't succeed in making it any neater.

When the `boys,' as I still thought of them, landed, Andy was in front of Paul and Andy's boyfriend, Comitis Dinumero, was in front of me. For some reason that had never been explained to me, Comitis was nervous around me. When he realized how close he was to me, he made a show of shading his eyes from the sun that he wasn't facing.

He stepped around behind Andy to shift himself to the far side of Paul without looking like he was doing it deliberately. His execution of the move was awkward to the point where the three of us stared at him until he came to rest. Andy poked fun. "Uncle Church is NOT scary." He scolded his nervous boyfriend.

"Say's you!" Comitis retorted sourly.

I didn't bother to comment. I'd given up trying to make the boy comfortable around me. Out of frustration for his fear, I tended to fuck with the kid whenever I saw the opportunity. It was probably cruel of me, because all my teasing seemed to do was increase the boy's fear of me, but I hadn't thought that much about it. I figured that he would eventually settle down, or he wouldn't. If nothing else, I assumed at some point, he'd get tired of being afraid.

Either way, each time I saw him and Andy together, the experience was a little odd for me. I'd heard it said that water finds its own level when it came to objective attractiveness of each member of a couple. To my mind, Andy and Comitis were the exception that proved the rule.

While Andy was tall and lean and very masculine, his boyfriend was short, five-foot-six or so, with a soft build on a medium frame, soft features, and lead-grey eyes. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the man except for how taken Andy was with him.

Andy was the head of his own publicly traded, high-fashion outfitter. He was the lead designer and CEO. As such, he was around beautiful people all the time. From the time he was in secondary school, he'd brought home a steady stream of tall, well-built, traditionally attractive men. Comitis or `Comet,' as I called him and no one else did, was the first departure from that model and the one that seemed to capture my nephew's heart. I was thrilled that Andy found someone to love, but the night-and-day looks of the two of them left me scratching my head.

They didn't even seem to have anything in common. Andy was a powerful empath, a member of the fashion and business elite, outgoing and adventurous, and a creative force. Comet was a low-power telekinetic, and an accountant, the stereotypical antithesis of everything that Andy was.

I'd had the boy checked out to make sure he wasn't a gold-digger. I also had my good friend Vulp Dux make sure Comet didn't have Andy under a compulsion. Both checks came back clean, so I shrugged and assumed the boy had something I couldn't see. `Maybe he's got a winning personality...or a massive cock.' I'd thought on more than one occasion. Either way, it made me happy that they were happy, so I left the situation alone.

My mind had wandered over these thoughts until the sound of Andy introducing Comet to Paul snapped me back to the present. "Com," Andy said, "this is Mister Paul. He's from where I'm from. Back there, he was a priest, but he doesn't want us to think of him that way while he's here."

"What's a `priest?'" Comet asked as he shook hands with Paul.

Paul didn't seem to know how to explain what a priest was to a person from a world with no religion. He made a valiant effort and said, "a priest is a man of the cloth."

"You're a tailor?" Comet asked, even more confused than before.

I stifled a laugh and Andy came to the rescue. "I'll explain later." He said and directed his attention from his boyfriend to Paul to continue the conversation. Andy paused to wait for Paul's attention to shift from Comet back to him. The attention he wanted didn't come right away and suddenly Andy's face flushed bright red. He lowered his normally confident gaze to the ground. "It's above average." He muttered into his chest.

Paul started laughing. He had a barking, guffaw-style laugh that melted years off him when he let it out. Andy gathered Comet close to him and trotted toward the house. "We'll clean up and see you at dinner." Andy called over his shoulder as they hurried away.

I waited for Paul to settle down and asked him what was so funny. He directed a sheepish expression at me like I'd caught him doing something he shouldn't. "I was trying to figure out the attraction between them and I couldn't." Paul explained. "I assumed Mister Comitis was...uhm...impressively endowed, and Andy must have read my thoughts."

It was my turn to laugh, which I did until I was breathless. Paul joined me with a reduced version of his former hysterics. When we both settled, I wiped the humor tears from my eyes and grinned at my friend the priest. "And to think I was worried about you fitting in around here." I teased.

"I may be a priest, but I live in the world." Paul retorted through his own grin. "I know how things work even if I don't participate in them."

"Very true." I agreed. "Come on, I want to show you the house. I'll give you a tour, then show you your rooms. Andy set you up with two-weeks-worth of clothes and you'll probably want to rest before dinner. Almost everyone is on the estate, but they're scattered, doing their own thing. They'll all be together for dinner, and you'll need your energy for the gang." I draped my arm over Paul's shoulders and strolled toward the house.