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Chapter 2

Angel was out of the gym/class room as soon as he got the call. His Master liked to walk, and so let him drive the clunky pickup to classes. He drove as fast as he could get away with to the hospital. A brief tete e tete with the receptionist, a half hour wait when he lost, and he was by his Man's side. Kneeling in the chair as his Master taught him.

He watched his Master sleep, mumbling the calming mantras that Othello also taught him.

"Master is strength. I am His power. Master is King. I am his Knight. Master is Trial. I am Capable..."

The mantra kept him calm and durable when during their sessions. Now, Angel used them to battle panic. He neither touched, nor fretted over his Man. He was patient, as Master I wanted him to be. The doctors had told Angel that Othello had suffered a seizure. Angel knew that such things had happened in his Man's teen years, and rumor had it that they were far more violent. But this was the first time one had occurred during their relationship.

And Angel found it horrifying. Over the year, perhap he'd put this Man on a pedestal. He built Angel up from low, dark places. Made him able to stand on his own. But of course it was just better at His side. That was kind of the point of this whole relationship! He loved his Man, and Othello loved His bitch.

"Angel-mine..."

Angel perked, startled from his reverie. "Sir... My Master, good morning." He tensed, wanting to climb into the hospital bed. "Can I get you anything?"

"Just you, sweetness..." Othello raised a heavy-seeming arm.

Angel happily stood from the chair and enveloped as much of his bulk as he could around his smaller Man. "Sir, what happened?"

"I beat Them," Othello said smiling. "One of them, anyways. I can make them disappear."

"And all it costs you is a seizure?" Angel mused, frowning.

"It'll... get better. I bet." Othello readjusted wrap an arm around his Angel's shoulders.

"Do... Do you dream when you go out like that...?" Angel murmured.

It took Othello a moment to respond. He stared up at the ceiling, somewhat doll-like. Then he blinked. "Not usually... This time, I did..."

"What was it?" Angel pressed.

Othello tried to remember. There was... A stone tower... Monsters.... Trees made of Glass...

"I can't remember, baby," Even recalling that much was giving him a headache. He watched the Dust swirl. They collected on his skin, but not on Angel. He breathed them in, and he felt better. He flexed around his Angel a cracked stiffened joints. "It's time to go home."

"No, Sir." Angel clutched at his Master. "You need to see your therapist."

Othello froze, then yanked hard on Angel's blonde curls. He held the grip and turned Angel's sky-blue eyes to take in the cold anger held in his brown ones.

"Absolutely not."

"B-but this is a major breakthrough! What if something is br-broken?" At first, his expression was fearful. Then his brows fell into a look of anger. "How can you take care of me without taking care of yourself, too?"

Othello lunged hard, and bounced his forehead off of Angel's, spilling the bigger guy on to the floor with a yelp.

The two regarded each other, panting hard. The room, the people outside, the whole world fell away. It was just the Master and the rebuked servant. Each angry at the other, and each having exposed his fear.

"Whoa. Guys?" The world snapped back into place, and it was Neil standing by the door. "Everything alright...?"

Angel didn't answer. He stood, gave an instinctive bow, and almost brushed passed Neil as he left.

"It's fine," Othello glared. "Angel is worried about me, and I'm refusing to do the right thing."

"..." Neil took a moment to log the response away and tossed his friend a bag of Honey Gummies; Othello's currently favorite candy. "Asshole."

"I know... But I can't have him topping-from-the-bottom like that..."

"He wasn't. Sounds like he was just protecting you from yourself," Neil's hawkish nose wrinkled. "Acting like he loves you. You prick."

"Shut up," Othello unwrapped the first chew. "How bad was it?"

"You ran out, started speaking in tongues, then twitched on the ground," Neil took Angel's chair and started on his own coffee hard candies. "Most folks thought it was some form of protest, until you started foaming at the mouth."

Othello snickered at that. "Shitheads..."

"It's not funny, man..." Neil bounced the candy wrapper off Othello's head. "Angel isn't the only one you scared with that shit..."

Othello stared at Neil a long moment, burying the guilt he felt, responding the only way he could to reset the mood: "Faaaaaaaaaaaaggggg...."

"Next one goes up your nose, bitch," Neil grinned. But it faded quickly. "What happened to you, man? It's easy to forget you weren't always... Right..."

Othello had never told Neil about his condition. Not in all the time the two knew each other. Not even as roommates in their freshman year. He hoped he'd never have to, yet...

"Paranoid schizophrenia," Othello began. "I'm certifiably crazy..."

Neil didn't respond. Only gave Othello his rapt attention.

* * *

"Let's go play with the fairies again!" Lothario, Othello's kid brother pleaded, tugging on Othello's sleeve. Othello was eight then. Lothario was six. Almost ten years ago. He ignored his little brother. "O. Thel. Lo!" Rio whined, tugging harder.

"My word, you're..." Little Othello scratched fingers through nappy hair, searching for a good word. "Pesky... like a little bug." Othello let his eyes linger for a moment before turning away.

Rio had gotten that look before and so, undeterred, continued to pester his older brother. "Come onnnnnn!!!" Rio pounced on his older brother's back, accidentally knocking them both to the ground. The two fought and wrestled. It was all apart of the game, until a voice over them startled the two.

"Enough!"Both Othello and Lothario froze. "Look at what you little... Monkeys have done!" The two looked at the carnage of knocked-over papers from their mother's desk as well as at the clothes and pillows strewn about. Othello could have sworn the house was perfectly clean a moment ago...

The two turned to their older brother, Macbeth. He was Othello's senior by almost six years. Despite this, he never seemed to resent being his brothers' keeper. They called him Mac. Other kids called him "Bull-Dog". Mac looked like his brothers, who all looked like their father. Whenever Othello looked at his older brother, he saw what looked to be a million hands orbiting him like moons and planets. They were all the left hands, if the thumb on each was any indicator. Where there would have been nails, there were eyes. Milky and instead of pupils, ripples seemed to emanate from where ever the eyes focused, and spread over the surface of the beings('s) eyeballs. Othello watched these hands actively repel other Bogies in the vicinity. He usually felt safe around his brother.

But now he was in trouble, and knew he had it coming.

"Sorry, Beth..." Both boys muttered sullenly.

Mac sighed at his family "pet name". They only used it to kiss up. Rumor has it that he HATED being called Beth, but that all changed when Othello's first word was "Beth".

"Alright, peons," Mac said, "Go on. Get outside and enjoy your freedom until the 'rents come for your narrow asses..."

Othello pouted while Lothario cheered. The two went outside.

In those days, the Montagues lived on the Fortuna Maw, a ring of jagged cliffs that formed the rim of the Fortuna Crater. Othello could look down on the city and watch it glitter, nestled in its crater. Surrounded on three sides by black cliffs while the south-eastern side dips into the sea, Fortuna lives like a giant geode. Othello liked how the other side dipped into the ocean. He'd heard talk of the family actually moving down there. He imagined that the Bogies there all looked cool and crystalline.

He turned and saw Lothario already running into the little copse of trees near the houses. Those trees led into deeper woods. Children weren't allowed to a certain point, and it was fenced off, and beyond that was an electric fence to keep animals away. Othello didn't like what was beyond the fence. The Things there stared at him with mean, glowing eyes...

"Lothario... You see those?" Othello, trying to look cool, leaned against the inner fence.

Rio gripped the same fence, staring back in naïve awe. "I see them..." He gulped, following Their movements with his eyes. "What are they..."

Othello felt a rush as sounds, almost like words, rushed through his mind. "Trolls, I think."

"Trolls..." Rio whispered, eyes going wide. "The kiddie-eating kind?"

"What other kinds are there?" Othello snorted.

"The jeweled kind?" Rio suggested, lifting up his shirt to show off his belly-button. "You ever see one of Them?"

Othello giggled. "You're such a baby..."

"Am not!" Rio huffed.

"I bet there are some in the city... We'll go find them one day, 'kay?" Othello smirked.

But Rio already back to staring at the wild-Things beyond the fence."I bet I could touch one!"

Othello laughed harder. "I bet it bites your fingers off. One. By. One."

Rio touched the band-aid on his left pointer-finger. He'd had a fit just from cutting that one on a blade of grass! "Stop being an ass..."

"Ooooh..." Othello giggled. "I'm telling."

True terror shone on Rio's face. "Cut it out!" He whined.

Othello ruffled his hair. "Grab the watering can. Let's go see the fairies."

"Whoo!" Rio's mood changed right away and he ran back for the houses.

Five minutes later, the two were watering the community garden. It filled every adult with warm fuzzies to see the young boys working so hard on it. And the blooms were always spectacular, and the boys guarded them fiercely.

Othello and Lothario were actually sprinkling water on the little Beings that called those flowers home. They danced with glee around the boys as Othello watched and Rio played. The Little Ones fluttered about on wings that looked like petals, shedding sparkling pollen in Their wake.

Othello had noticed that there were an increasing number of new ones that had come with the new plants that had crept in. These looked like the thistles and dandelions that had sprouted. Othello eyed them, but Rio took it all in stride, welcoming these newcomers without seeing the Other's' reaction. The spikier Ones were pushing the flower Ones out... And those that wouldn't go were quietly torn to rippy-bits... Othello looked at the flowers and saw them being choked out.

"Weeds..." Othello stood and dusted himself off. He stepped forward and wrapped a gloved hand around a thistle. One of the Thistle Fairies started gagging as he started pulling at the base of the plant. The Others turned their attention towards him and snarled in squeaky voices. They darted at him, but sort of passed through him, like ghosts, but each left a tiny scratch where it touched him.

Othello looked at them and used his Big Voice: "Whither!" His Big Voice gave him a headache, but it could effect little ones like these.

The Prickles all began to gag at once, turning dull before his eyes. The kept up the attack, but they were weakened. Othello went back to pulling up the weeds.

"Tell...?" Rio said softly. "What are you doing? Stop it... Y-you're hurting them!"

"Ugh... Shut up, their killing the flowers..." Othello yelped as one cut just under his eye. "Help me out..."

"But... Tell...?" Rio sniffled. "It's hurting... Seriously, quit!" He pushed Othello hard and the plant came free.

"Rio! Come on!" Othello looked at his catch and looked at the broken stem. "Aw! Dammit, Rio!" Othello started digging through the dirt for the root.

"I said no, Othello!" Rio started pounding on him with his fists. "STOP it!!"

"Rio, if you don't get offa me--" Othello's threat died as he saw the swarm of Pricklies above them. "Get out of here, Rio. Now! Go NOW!!"

Rio didn't have time to argue before Othello kicked him away. The entire flock fell on Othello, biting and scratching him with thorns all at once. It was like getting a hundred shots at once. He tried to get up, but found that he was being held down by the thistles themselves. He was at Their mercy, and there was no mercy to be found.

And Rio watched it all. He couldn't understand what was happening. Othello understood it now, but then, he hated his brother for leaving him.

Othello was left to cry and scream until Mac was lifting him from the ground. "Easy, buddy, shh... I got you... I got you..." His bogey was already fending off the pixies, swatting them to the ground and holding them there.

"Tell... If you just let them be..." Rio started, but the look in Othello's eye scared him silent. He followed his brothers back home.

Othello never went back. He hated himself for giving up, watching the weeds take over, killing the flowers, but the Pricklies made him hate Rio for a little while. Let Them have the stupid garden.

* * *

My brothers could see them, too, at first... But they grow out of it, or just get really good at ignoring them..." Othello went on. Some days, he'd swear they saw at least shadows...

"You still see them...?" Neil questioned. "Even after you got help for it?"

"Some help!" Othello scoffed. "Ultimately, it couldn't fix me. All they did was encourage me to see around them, and tortured me in the process. Pills and treatments and ridicule...." The more he spoke, the more bitterness fell from his tongue. "I pretend so I don't ever have to go back to that"

Niel watched him intently for awhile, before scratching his head, combing out his dreads. "Maybe.... Things aren't so simple as you being crazy..."

Othello didn't look at him.

"I know... things... things I shouldn't." Neil went on. "Doctors think it's some kind of... Neurological abnormality..." He reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled from it Othello's computer. "In the right circumstances, I become a supergenius. But only if I'm around an active computer that's connected to the internet." He smiled shakily. "Dude... I can surf the internet, with my brain!"

"I call bullshit." Othello said, sighing. What was Neil playing at? Did he think Othello felt special? This sucked through and through, so why compare being a living computer to seeing and dealing with impossible monsters? On the other hand... "It's kinda touching, that you'd compare your own ego-driven fantasies to my condition, just to make me feel better. But it isn't working, so stop it."

Neil's reaction gave Othello pause. He looked... hurt. Like he'd shared something private and it was trampled on. "W-well, don't you want me to prove it...?"

Othello shook his head. "How would you?"

Neil grinned. "Type something and upload it! You're connected and everything!" He rummaged through the bag he carried and passed Othello his notebook.

"And... what, you'll see it?"

"More like, I'll kind of remember it... That's what it's like."

Othello booted up, seeing that he was indeed connected to wi-fi. "My password..."

"Yeah, you uploaded it several to your chrome. I just tried the one you use most often."

Othello was annoyed. "You hacked my computer."

"Kinda?" Neil shrugged. "Go on! Upload anything!"

Othello typed: [Stop appropriating my culture. Get a damned haircut!!] It saved to the cloud automatically. "Done."

Neil's eyes darted rapidly, like he was spazzing out on something. The mists on the ground seethed, making Othello jump. He thought he saw a stain in it, but was gone when he went to look at it directly.

Neil pouted. "C'mon, man! Dreads have been in lots of different cultures! Black folks don't have a monopoly on it!"

Othello was dumbfounded. Neil couldn't see the screen. The lid was up and facing away from him! It took several seconds, but Othello knew there was some trick to it.

"Doesn't mean they look good on everyone..." Othello tried to rib, but it sounded just a bit mystified.

"The dreads stay," Neil huffed. Then smiled. "Do another."

Fascinated by this trick, Othello complied: [When did you first notice this?]

Again, Neil's eyes darted. "Um... Maybe when I was twelve? I never studied before tests, but always kinda knew the answers. But one day I was taking this math quiz, when the teacher's computer broke down. It was the first test I ever flunked."

Othello's mouth went dry. This time, he DID see the fog change a bit! It went kinda pink as it moved. He typed more. [You've seen my drawings? I don't show them to anyone...]

"I've seen a few. You're pretty good. You should be a comic artist, or a mangaka!" Neil beamed.

[It's true, isn't it...? Who else knows?]

"You can still talk to me normally lol..." Neil said, his smile dimming a bit. "Just my mom. She pulled me out of school, cut off our modem, and homeschooled me herself, to keep me from... straining myself. Or maybe just make sure I got my education honestly. Dynamite lady, my mom!"

There was a familiar sadness there. "She locked you away."

The color drained from Neil's face. "It wasn't like that, man lol," He tried at a chuckle, but it came out halfhearted. "She just didn't want me treated any different."

Othello typed two more words: [Wendon Hall]

Neil stiffened. "You know about that place..." It was more of an accusation than a question.

"I was a patient there." Othello fixed Neil with a hard look. "You were, too." Also coming out as an accusation.

Neil smiled impishly. "I'll tell you something cool."

Othello knew that smile. It always meant trouble. The kind that was utterly irresponsible for sane human beings... After this little chat, though, sanity could no longer be considered part of the equation. Othello's own lips quirked. "Do tell."

"We weren't the only kids in there, in fact, I'll bet one is making his rounds in this very hospital right about now."