Chapter 39

After lunch, Boyd went looking for Daniel.

The door was opened by a very unkempt young man. He squinted at Boyd through bloodshot eyes. His long golden curls had flopped down over them to the point Boyd was amazed he could see at all.

“Geez, mate, can you tone down the bright light?” Daniel grumbled.

He turned away from the door and stumbled back into the dimly lit house. Boyd followed with a frown. He watched Daniel flopped back into a lounge chair and scoop the hair out of his eyes with his fingers. Daniel brushed them back onto his head with both hands. As soon as he let them go, they proceeded to fall right back where he had moved them from.

“Tone it down,” he grumbled again and shaded his eyes from Boyd.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand?” Boyd replied as he pushed some dubious articles from a second chair and sat down.

“You glow like a lighthouse beacon, mate.”

Boyd closed his eyes, and a spell came to mind regarding reducing one’s magical glow. He performed the spell and then looked at Daniel again.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah. You look more like a mage now. What the hell are you anyway?”

“Hum, a bit more powerful than a mage,” Boyd grinned.

“Yeah, well, you must be to shine like that. Even my mother isn’t that bright,” he replied and then giggled. “She is smart but not bright where it counts either,” he chuckled a bit louder in dark humour.

Boyd couldn’t help smiling. He even knew he had a box in his satchel that would be happy to go to Daniel. However, Boyd didn’t think he was quite ready for that responsibility in his current state.

“My name is Boyd Flinn. I don’t mean to pry, but can you tell me what your mother did to try and fix you?”

Daniel shrugged, “She tried to make me a Therian, but it didn’t work. She told me that something went wrong, and now I can’t have kids even if I wanted them.”

“She was trying to find a way to fix us men so that we can mate with them. I told her there was nothing wrong with us as we were made the way were for a reason, but she wouldn’t accept that.”

“When she failed, she hatched the plot to get people from Earth. I wanted to go there to live, but she refused to let me or any of the other men go. She told us it was too bloody dangerous,” he finished peevishly.

“Did she explain the dangers?” Boyd asked.

“She went on about some plague and technology beyond us and blah ... blah ... blah ... She just didn’t want us to have a life. Very few Therians will mate with us. At least there, we may have found a partner.”

“We are used as toy boys, but we are not good for anything else. We can’t even get good jobs because we are not seen as being good enough. It’s all a crock of shit if you ask me,” he finished belligerently.

He reached down to the side of his chair and picked up a long-necked, dark green and glass bottle. He took several long swigs out of it, shuddered and put it back on the floor. The over-proof alcohol wasn’t the most pleasant that he had drunk, but it did the trick of dulling his pain.

“How can anyone even tell you aren’t a Therian?” Boyd asked with some confusion.

Daniel lifted his fringe of curls from his forehead again. However, this time he held them back so Boyd could see his forehead. Boyd stared in absolute shock and horror at the six-pointed star tattooed on the man.

He estimated it was a good 2cm from point to opposite point. The artist had used thick black lines that made the symbol look stark on the pale pink flesh. A Flash of the yellow six-pointed star the German and Polish Jews had to wear flashed in his mind.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Boyd swore.

Not even thinking about the fact he was using the name in vain. Not that he was religious, but he did try not to offend others who were.

Daniel chuckled with his dark humour. “I’ve heard of that bloke from Father Kelly. He wasn’t much brighter than my mother. He should have run at first sight of a bloody Roman just like our people did.”

Boyd ignored the quip and asked, “Why? Why did they do that to you?”

Daniel shrugged, and to Boyd’s surprise, he reached down on the other side of his chair to grab a small, rectangular, leather packet. He opened the flap and proceeded to remove the contents to roll himself a smoke.

“All boys who can’t shapeshift by the age of five are tattooed. Apparently, they have always done it if a mother refuses to give the child away. On Earth, the child was left at an orphanage or farm, but they weren’t tattooed. Here we are tattooed regardless. It is so that the others know not to try and breed with.”

“That is barbaric!” Boyd said with gritted teeth.

“It is, what it is,” Daniel replied as he clicked his fingers in front of the tip of his rollie, and it ignited.

He drew back, inhaled and then blew out the pungent smoke. Boyd realised it wasn’t tobacco but some variation of very good hooch. He’d not touched that stuff since his Army days. He did wonder just how much of an effect it had on Daniel.

He did know that he could enjoy the smell, but his system would filter out any effects before he got to really enjoy it. One disadvantage of being a wizard, along with not being able to get drunk.