Jared leaned against the cold stone wall and huddled behind the dumpster, trying to stay out of the rain. Erebus curled up at his feet, using his hunched body to keep themselves dry. Jared ran his fingers over the cat's back absently while he looked up at the dark sky.

Everything existed in layers now. He could see the rain falling down between the fire escape and collecting on the metal before it dripped down onto him. But beneath that, he could also see the fine numbers that marched through the universe. The stitches and weave that held things together.

Surely there is somewhere better to sleep than this. Erebus pressed against his wet leg while they sent the thoughts that were laced with the discomfort of damp fur and standing in puddles.

Jared didn't answer. Erebus already knew that he didn't have anything now. There was no where else for them to sleep. Nothing better for them unless they made it. He looked down at his hand, gliding over the black fur. He could see how the universe was constructed, but he could see how he was going to get a warm place to sleep or his next meal.

He let his eyes close. Let the rain run over his face.

"I believe that Gobo here will testify that this is a shitty place to sleep." The voice was familiar.

Jared looked up. Michael stood at the end of the alley, leaning on his cane with his hood covering his face. His blue eyes glowed from the shadow. Gobo stood next to him.

"It is pretty shitty," Jared agreed.

"Come then," Michael said with a gesture of his hand. He turned, not waiting to see if Jared got up or followed.

Gobo approached and held out his hand, "Get up."

Jared took his hand and let the goblin pull him to his feet. Gobo said nothing else, just turned and walked behind Michael. Like picking up strays in the alley was a normal event in their lives. Maybe it was.

We going with them? Erebus asked.

Yeah. They helped us before. And we have no where else to go. Jared scooped Erebus up into his arms and held them close to his chest, trying to cover them with his jacket as best as he could.

I won't melt. Erebus flicked his tail.

Jared laughed softly. No, I supposed you won't.

They led him to a warehouse. The doors opening to the touch of Michael's hand that glowed softly blue in the dark. The door rolled open to reveal what looked like a workshop. The ceilings were high and opened to the duct work and support beams. Hard concrete floors stained with years of use. And despite the large space, it felt crowded. There were things everywhere.

Jared hugged Erebus closer, holding him with both his arms against his chest while he moved through the strange clutter that was stacked and piled in the space.

In the center of the room there were workbenches covered with tools and works in progress. Things piled on top of the work surfaces and on the floor next to the them. Small objects of power, imbued with the Dark. Glass vials filled with Dark Brew for restoring a person's vessel, the pool of Dark that the River filled.

There were books stacked in precarious towers, their spines cracked and faded. Several of them were familiar and had a home within his own stacks. He wondered if he would ever see his own workshop again.

He walked through the clear row behind Gobo who walked behind Michael. Everything here felt comfortable and familiar. The men in front of him were strangers, but he could see that Michael shared much the same driving curiosity and desire to create. He saw it in the tools that were arranged in neat rows beside tools that were scattered in the chaos of a task unfinished.

A suit of armor stood in one corner, missing its left arm. A globe of some world that wasn't Earth spun slowly on a pedestal, continents Jared didn't recognize drifting across its surface.

"This way," Michael said.

He led them through the maze of benches, moving with the practiced ease of someone who knew every obstacle intimately. His cane tapped a rhythm on the concrete. Gobo followed, silent. Jared trailed behind them.

A cage that held nothing but shadows, shifting restlessly against its bars. A mirror that reflected a room that wasn't this one. A small brass bird that cocked its head as Jared walked by, one eye a chip of garnet.

Another door which Michael pressed his hand to with the blue glow. They went up the narrow stairway. It lead into a living space.

It was sparse. Not empty. There was furniture, a sofa, a low table. But bare in the way of someone who owned only what they needed. The walls were white. The floors were dark wood, polished to a soft gleam. A kitchen occupied one corner, separated from the living area by a breakfast bar with two stools. A hallway led deeper into the apartment, promising more rooms beyond.

Clean. Orderly. Nothing out of place.

"This way," Michael said.

He showed Jared the guest room. Small but adequate. A bed, dresser and a window looking out onto the rain-slicked street below. A door that Michael pushed open to reveal a bathroom, white tile and chrome fixtures and a shower.

"There's soap," Michael said. "Towels in the cabinet. I'll make dinner while you clean up."

Jared looked down at himself and the cat.

"There is a robe in the bathroom. I'll wash your clothing while you eat."

Jared stood in the bedroom and listened to Michael's cane tap against the floor as he moved back down the hallway. It felt strange to be in this place with people that he had only met, but it was better than the alley he had planned to spent the night in.

Erebus jumped down and stretched themselves out, purring. They moved around the room, sniffing at everything before finally settling themselves on the end of the bed. They curled up into a tight ball and regarded Jared with their luminous yellow eyes. Waiting.

The Dark ebbed inside him and he let it slip out, seeping into the room. The wash of shadows was feather light and whispered over the surfaces. Everything that the Dark touched responded with a pulse of Dark in return. The blanket were woven with spells for comfort and warmth. The window reinforced against threats. The door locked with a bolt as well as the will of the user, binding out the unwanted.

The bathroom was small but immaculate. Jared stripped off his clothing, letting it fall onto the floor. He looked at himself in the mirror, staring at the film of shadow that rippled over his skin. It would have frightened him once. Now it seemed like another part of him. Like seeing his hair or eyes or teeth in their proper place.

The shower was hot. Steam billowed around him as he stood under the spray, letting the water beat against his shoulders and back. He found soap in a dispenser on the wall and used it liberally, finding gentle enchantments mixed into its base to help him feel calm as well as clean. He worked the soap through his hair, letting his fingers trail down the back of his neck, pausing on the cybernetic port that rested there.

Adrian was no longer watching. Jared pressed his hand against the port and took deep breaths. It felt like his stomach was dropping out. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about Adrian's hands and the way that Adrian always knew what he needed. He leaned his forehead against the tiles, letting the hot water, steam and Dark swirl around him.

Jared turned off the water, stood in the shower letting himself drip. He pressed his shaking hands against his eyes until colors bloomed in the darkness behind his eyes lids.

Jared? Erebus touched his mind lightly.

He took a deep breath. I'm fine. It was a lie. They both knew it, but he couldn't imagine trying to formulate everything he was feeling into words. It was too complicated. Words were hard. They cut and stripped away things without ever really conveying everything that he needed them to. Words were hollow.

I'm fine. Jared stepped out of the shower, not surprised to see Erebus sitting at the door of the bathroom, looking up at him and flicking their tail.

Seeing himself in the mirror, he stopped. Dark roiled off his skin in thick, heavy ropes, coiling up around his arms and neck then spiraling out behind his head into a rolling, churning cloud. He watched the Dark pulse and swirl. He pressed his hands against the edge of the sink and leaned against it, noting that his skin left an oily film on the porcelain where he touched it.

Erebus flicked his tail, but said nothing.

There was a pressure building up in his stomach and his chest, pushing up and outward. He needed to move. Needed to break something. Grimacing, he growled softly at the sink. I can't loose control here.

"Perhaps a shower wasn't the best option," Michael said as he stepped into the room, taking in the Dark and Jared's hunched posture.

Jared gripped the sink and felt it crack beneath his fingers. He could see that he was changing. His nails were black and sharp. The edges of his teeth had become sharp. He breathed heavily, refusing to look at his host.

Gobo stepped past Michael. He looked Jared up and down, something shifting in his eyes.

"Come," Gobo said, gesturing for Jared to follow him.

Jared said nothing. He followed the goblin from the bathroom, through the small apartment and back down into the warehouse. The tap of the cane followed them. Gobo lead him into an area in the back of the warehouse where there was a cleared space. It smelled of damp concrete and old machine oil. Stacked shipping crates formed rough walls around them, their painted symbols faded by rain and time. A single overhead bulb cast jaundiced light across the space.

Gobo turned.

Jared saw the fist coming. He did not dodge.

The impact landed high on his cheekbone, just below the eye socket. Light exploded behind his vision, white starbursts that scattered across his optic nerve. The force snapped his head sideways, sending him stumbling two steps before his feet found traction.

His fingers came up, touched the blazing skin. Heat radiated from the point of contact.

“That all?” The words came out rougher than he expected.

Gobo’s grin spread wide, showing those filed tusks. Amber eyes caught the light as he shifted weight forward. “That was the hello.”

Jared understood now. The tension that had coiled through every muscle and in his gut. This was need. He reset his stance, dropped his center of gravity. The pain in his cheek focused him, sharpened the world to this moment, this space, this body.

Gobo came forward.

The goblin’s reach was deceptive. Those thick arms covered distance faster than Jared anticipated. He ducked under a wide swing, felt the rush of displaced air, and drove his shoulder into Gobo’s midsection.

Contact was like hitting a concrete pillar.

They went down together. Jared’s shoulder blazed with the impact. Gobo’s weight pressed into him, all dense muscle and grinding bone. He tasted dust. Concrete scraped his palms as he twisted, trying to find leverage.

Gobo’s hand found his shoulder, hauled him up, then slammed him back down. The air left Jared’s lungs in a sharp grunt.

“Pretty moves.” Gobo’s voice was a rumble inches from his ear. “Pretty humans. Always dancing.”

Jared brought his knee up.

The angle was wrong. He caught Gobo’s hip rather than anything vulnerable. But it was enough, that fraction of space to get his arm free. He drove his fist forward, felt it connect with Gobo’s ribs.

A grunt. A shift in pressure.

Jared rolled, coming up onto his knees. His vision swam. The world tilted, then settled. Blood trickled from his nose, warm and copper-sweet across his upper lip.

Gobo was already moving, surging to his feet with a fluidity that contradicted his bulk. Jared met him halfway. This time he threw the first punch. It caught Gobo’s jaw, snapped his head back. The impact traveled up Jared’s arm, sharp and satisfying. Before he could follow up, Gobo’s hand closed around his wrist.

The grip was iron.

Gobo pulled. Jared’s momentum carried him forward, off balance. They collided, chest to chest. The goblin’s body was solid, immovable, heat radiating through the worn fabric of the goblin's shirt.

Then Gobo bit him. Teeth sank into Jared’s shoulder, just where neck and muscle met. Not hard enough to break skin, but close. Close enough that the pressure sang along his nerves, reminding him how close violence and something else could dance.

Jared laughed. The sound surprised him. It came out breathless, raw, torn from somewhere below thought. He pushed against Gobo’s chest, creating an inch of space, and headbutted him. Forehead met forehead with a crack that echoed off the crates.

Gobo blinked. Those amber eyes went wide, then narrowed with approval. “That one had teeth.”

“This one has more.” Jared was breathing hard now, his chest heaving. His hands, his shoulders, the side of his face: everything hurt, bright and immediate and clean.

They circled each other.

Jared’s feet scraped against concrete. His blood left small dark spots on the gray surface. Gobo’s chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed almost ceremonial. The goblin cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and the leather shoulder guard caught the light.

Jared wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. He lunged. This time he did not punch. He grabbed Gobo’s left arm at the wrist and elbow, using the goblin’s own momentum against him, twisting and dropping his weight. The throw was ugly, unrefined, but it worked.

Gobo hit the concrete with a sound like a sack of meat. He was up again in a heartbeat. But Jared saw it. That flicker in the amber eyes. The slight hesitation before he rose. The recognition that Jared could move him, could redirect his mass, could take what he gave and give it back.

The fight shifted.

Gobo came forward slower now, more deliberate. His kicks aimed for Jared’s knees, trying to grind Jared down. Jared sidestepped, took a glancing blow to his thigh, and grabbed Gobo’s boot.

He pulled.

Gobo went down hard, swearing in a language Jared did not recognize. The goblin’s elbow cracked against concrete. He rolled, came up with blood smeared across his olive skin from a split in his brow.

“Good.” The word was almost a growl. “You’re not just fast.”

Jared dropped into a crouch, hands open, palms forward. His ribs ached. His left eye was starting to swell. The pain in his shoulder pulsed with each heartbeat.

He had never felt more present.

Gobo circled, eyes never leaving Jared’s face. The goblin’s chest heaved. His scarred ear twitched. The metal rings caught the light as he moved through the pool of illumination beneath the single bulb.

Jared’s pulse hammered.

Gobo’s grin widened. The filed tusk gleamed. He lunged. This time, there was no warning. No telegraph. The goblin moved like something older than thought, something that had spent centuries perfecting the art of breaking things.

His fist connected with Jared’s ribs. Something cracked. Jared folded, his vision going white. The air left him in a sound he had never made before: half groan, half whimper. He hit his knees. Concrete biting his skin.

Gobo stood over him. Breathing hard. Waiting.

“Get up.”

The command resonated through Jared’s bones and he wanted to obey it. Jared’s hands pressed into the concrete. The surface was cold. Gritty. Rough enough to scrape his palms as he pushed himself upright. His ribs screamed. His vision doubled, then merged.

He stood.

Gobo’s eyes tracked the movement. The silence between them stretched, filled with the drip of water somewhere distant, the hum of the city beyond the warehouse walls.

Gobo smiled.

Then the light shifted, and a silhouette appeared at the edge of the cleared space. Michael stood between two crates, arms folded, blue eyes catching the artificial glow. He had been watching. How long, Jared could not guess.

"I believe that's enough for tonight," Michael said, looking at Gobo.

Gobo grunted.

Jared sat down hard on the concrete, noticing that the Dark had gone still and silent inside him.