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"Watch it."

The Campbell flinched, caught off guard by a stranger shouldering past him to get to a stall with fresh pastries. How did he get here? Why was he here in the first place? He wasn't sure how long it had been - time was slipping from the gaps of his fingers and disappearing entirely, leaving Jackson in a place where things were equally slow and fast; muddled and lucid. He was back on that stupid roundabout and he was having trouble pretending he was somewhere else. 

There was a banner that hung above the street: MARKET DAY, OCTOBER 29th-31st. His subconscious wanted to look at the pretty jewellery and the second-hand clothes and freshly baked pastries. Brilliant. He wasn't sure how long he had been there but now it was time to do what he had been pushing aside for a little while, his secret thing with Stevie. 

Jackson's eyes - running along the crowd opposite the street - stilled at the woman amongst the crowd. She stood out, her dress a soft pink, with padded shoulders that were typical of the 80s. Her hair, a dark blend of curls and frizz, stood as a stark contrast to her hot pink bow. A silver crucifix necklace hung solemnly around her neck. It was eery to him, almost as eery as her presence. His palms were clammy, curled into fists to stop his hands from trembling. 

Samara.

Samara? He was confused. Did she come back for him? Maybe it was for closure, or she wanted to apologise for how they ended. Jackson fought with the urge to run into her arms and forget every time pain and sorrow washed over him just thinking about her; every time he resented and hated her for abandoning him. He'd breathe in her clothes and lose himself in her lovely vanilla and caramel scent. 

She nudged her head behind her, gesturing him to follow her with a calm expression. The spell was cast. He crossed the street and followed her with a few metres between them, trying to zip through the crowd to catch up, but Market Day in Downtown Portland made it difficult to worm his way through.  

The Campbell wanted to shout in protest, to beg her to wait for him, but the words were caught in his throat. Even worse, the crowd seemed to swallow her whole, leaving no trace of her ever being there. He slowed down, scanning the people to locate where she went. Samara loved pastries - maybe she went to the bakery they frequented every Sunday for a pain au chocolat?

"What're you waiting for? A little dream never hurt nobody."

A new voice, but so terribly familiar. It was a male voice, smooth yet frank. He supposed that the man could never help that flat tone that rang at the end of his sentences, making his conversations between friends at the basketball court or conversations under the sheets with the Campbell sound the same. Jackson realised the man who had spoken was standing a few meters away, so tantalizingly close, but his presence was more ran enough to leave the Campbell speechless. 

A black bandana had been folded in a long strip and tied around his forehead, with black locs hanging over the fabric. Several locs were adorned with delicate bands of silver, matching with the silver rings on his fingers, flashing bright against his dark skin and dark eyes. A denim jacket was fitted over a plain soft blue t-shirt and paired with jeans. A dreamer in his own right, Jackson couldn't think of a memory of Isaiah without smiling in the same way his eyes would well up thinking about Samara. An Old Hollywood fanatic but his favourite movie was the 1992 film Juice, which he'd claim would be a classic in twenty years. Jackson had never been all that interested in philosophy until Isaiah read him The Myth of Sisyphus, sitting on top of a picnic table while Jackson sat on the bench and stared up at him.

Isaiah stepped back, then after a lingering look of invitation, turned and walked the direction Samara had been heading. He picked up his pace, following Isaiah and his ghost's left turn into an alleyway. Jackson had so much he wanted to say; so much he wanted to express for closure after their abrupt break up. But when he finally stopped at the alleyway, the lingering image of him was gone, replaced by an entity that wrapped around him — his Botticelli beauty, with his fair skin and seafoam-covered ocean eyes. Was he there? His clothes suggested otherwise: Metallica t-shirt, cargo pants, high tops. He was an eidolon, stuck in time. Jackson wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, chanting in his head to make him real. Light of his life, fire of his loins. His sin, His soul. Malachai, Malachai, Malachai. 

Kai slowly shook his head, tutting under his breath. His voice was almost like a coo, with a stern tone suggested a mock scolding. "Look at this tangle of thorns."

The Campbell found Russian literature too be pretentious and a mouthful, lacking a particular interest in Dostoyevsky or Nabokov. They had too much to talk about and it often went on for too long. To quote Nabokov, especially Lolita, in times of stress was certainly an indicator of his downward spiral. 

"Jackson?"

His body twisted with a sharp turn, his breath stolen from his lips when he saw a rotting Jennifer right in front of him. Her blonde tresses that used to flow down her shoulders in shimmering waves now matted and half fallen, leaving bald patches on her skull. Her sunken and pale skin had tears and holes littering across her body, so much so that the Campbell would've thrown up right there if he hadn't been so paralysed with shock. Decomposition rotted her straight to the bone, which peeked out along her jaw, her collarbone, her arms and her legs. Her formerly lavender dress took the most damage, with the cotton faded and stained with dirt, and the fabric torn and destroyed by decomposition.

His throat was tightening up, although he was able to let out a frightened yelp despite his constricting eosophagus. Jennifer growled and, with a terrifying amount of strength, grabbed the lapels of his coat and slammed him against the brick wall to his right. His head hit the wall hard enough for him to lose focus. It was when he managed to coexist with the throbbing pain at the back of his skull that he focused on the person in front of him. A person who was definitely not a dead woman walking.

Bleached hair had been cut into a chic, French bob - although he could very well still see her natural brunette hair fighting for the limelight at the roots of her peroxide blonde hair. Eyes as green as envy glared up at him through thick lashes, from a five inch height difference. His eyes dipped to note her outfit: a mink fur coat, a sheath dress, sheer tights and kitten heels. She walked straight out from a fashion magazine. He wasn't sure who she was or why she was scowling at him - or why she was slamming him into a wall for that matter. Was he supposed to recognize her?

"Do I know you?" He asked, hoping that she would stop looking at him like he was supposed to know her. "This position feels a little familiar."

The woman scoffed. "Jeez, you can recognize people through positions? What a slut."

"Well a little help would be nice," Jackson couldn't help the indignation in his voice.

She raised a thin brow. "From the bar down the street? You ordered a vesper and I told you that sad old men who reminisce about the good old days drink vespers? And then we danced to Total Eclipse of the Heart? I mean, it was a while ago, but I figured you'd have the decency to remember."

"Did we eat crepes in your apartment and then had sex on your couch?"

"You said it was your first time eating crepes."

His eyes widened in recognition. She looked remarkably the same since he last saw her. "Adrien, isn't it? Were you expecting me to remember a couple hook-ups from a year and a half ago?" When Adrien tilted her head at him, Jackson realised that Kai was the type to gouge out someone's eyes for looking at the wrong person. Whether he'd be gouging out Jackson or Adrien's eyes was a debate only the Parker could answer. "You probably shouldn't be touching me like this. I'm in a complicated relationship with someone."

He wasn't sure why he said that. He wasn't dating Kai anymore. Even though he had sex with Kai and let him pick something out from Jackson's wardrobe and then had sex with him again, and then gave Kai half an orange. It dawned on the Campbell that he was a complete and utter dick when it came to Kai. He used Kai selfishly without a thought about how the Parker might feel. Then again, it wasn't like Kai took Jackson's feelings into consideration most of the time. It was fair game, if anything. No, it isn't - why say that?

She released him and stepped back. "What? God, no, I'm not interested. I saw you wandering aimlessly. Your lips were moving, and your eyes were sort of... glassy? It was like... like you just weren't there." Her eyes narrowed. "And then when I tried to get your attention, you screamed."

He nodded slowly, glancing around. He was aware she was digging for answers. "Right. Sorry."

"You look like shit. And you're still a drinker."

Jackson frowned. Did he smell like alcohol or something? That would be impossible, he hadn't had a drink all day. "And you know that... how?"

"Jackson, you really need to have a good look in the mirror. You're in the clear now, since your breath doesn't smell like someone's stolen bottle of Scotch."

"Oh, Good," He muttered. "The woman who refused to drink soda without an ounce of bourbon is giving me the green light. Brilliant."

Adrien rolled her eyes. "And you need to stop talking to yourself, it's creepy."

Ouch. "The first sentence is fair, but the second? I couldn't control myself. I..." I don't think I can control myself anymore. "... should buy you coffee, at least. For the inconvenience."

"Jackson?"

The new but familiar voice made him turn, narrowing his eyes at Josette Parker standing a few feet away, to his right. She was wearing a simple blouse with a skirt. He was surprised by her presence, although it wasn't unwelcome. He could use several people around him to keep him distracted from strange hallucinations and waking nightmares. Perhaps she would understand. Or at least, sympathize with him. More than Adrien and Kai could.

He moved his eyes to where Adrien was, but found himself gazing at an empty spot. Empty? Where the hell was she? Panic crept up his throat, his eyes desperately searching around for her. Was she even here? Was she also a hallucination? That didn't make sense, she touched him. She felt real. Adrien had to be there, and yet, she vanished entirely within a single second. Fuck, he really had an entire conversation with a hallucination in his head. Was Josette even there, or was she a figment of his imagination too?

"Jackson," She spoke again, more urgently. Jo sounded real, but so did Adrien. "What's going on?"

Is she illusory? Is she really there? Jackson's lip trembled, feeling the onset of tears sting his eyes as he managed a shaky: "Are you real?"

"What?" She blinked, confused by his words. He was confused too, it was terrifying. "Of course I am, why? What's wrong?"

"No, I need you to prove it. Prove to me that you're real by waving at that lady over there."

Jo hesitated but reluctantly turned around and spotted the lady he was pointing at, waving at her until the lady noticed her and smiled. Jackson felt like he could crumple to the ground with relief, like a rag doll. Josette was real, thank bloody God. She slowly edged her way to the Campbell, visibly worried about him and his mental state.

"What was I doing before?" He asked, trying to figure what he had done. The Campbell could hardly begin to try and process the embarrassment knowing that people were staring at him while he was having an entire conversation by himself.

"You were staring at the pavement, zoned out," Jo said. "I was just making sure you're alright. You need to see a therapist, and stay away from him."

Him? "Kai? Kai didn't do anything. He's trying to help me, if anything. I don't know what's happening to me. One moment I think I'm fine, and the next, I'm hallucinating four different people. And I'm not one hundred percent sure you're real."

"I'm real," She rested a hand on his upper arm. "And I wouldn't trust Kai so easily. He's never done anything from the goodness of his heart. Probably because he doesn't have one." When Jackson squinted at her, she added: "He's a transactional person. Makes investments on things that he thinks are worth it. If he's helping you, then he wants something out of it."

"I'd wager he wants me to sell my soul to him and get back with him," The Campbell couldn't care less how concerning that sounded. "Not a terrifying price. I already gave him my heart, my throat and my entrails. Metaphorically speaking."

Josette looked at him with pity, to Jackson's bemusement. He also noticed the way she was searching his face, like she was trying to analyse something that would link back to Kai. She would be sorely disappointed by the lack of answers. He cleared his throat, glancing around the sidewalk.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Jo glanced behind her momentarily. "The shop over there had a clock. Four-twenty, I'd say."

Four-twenty? What the hell was he doing with his time? "God, I should get back. I need to see Stevie about something - and I need to sort myself out. Somehow, I don't know how, though." He hated expressing uncertainty. What was the point of being an aspiring scholar if he knew nothing? "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

"Book a therapy session, do what you need to do to get better. You've been a total mess this past week with everything that's happened. I'm not surprised you're talking to yourself and seeing hallucinations," Jo let her hand drop from his arm, studying his face. "For now, you really need to be around people. Is there anyone who can look out for you besides Stevie?"

Jackson stepped away from her, with a frown that reflected the offense he took from her words. "I don't need to be looked after like a child, I'm fine. Please just... let me handle my own problems."

"Jack—"

"No," He snapped. "Josette, don't bother trying. It's my life and I won't have someone swoop in and save me like I'm one of their bloody Saviour complex pet projects. It makes the both of us look pathetic."

The Parker recoiled from him, her brows drawn closer and her lips pursed with a visibly upset expression. Fuck, he shouldn't have said it like that. Jackson took that opportunity to quickly back away from her until the obstacle between them was a thick crowd of people ogling the market offers. He could hear her shout his name for a while, full of panic and worry, until it faded nearly a minute later. It wasn't until he made sure he had escaped her that he realized his hands were balled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. Little indents of crescent moons marked his skin a shade of red, though not deep enough to draw blood. 

Something made his chest feel tight - most likely the minimal space between him and random strangers around him. God, this was definitely the worst time to go to downtown Portland. He allowed himself a shaky inhale, only to smell the stench of sweat reeking off a nearby person. Jackson desperately needed to be somewhere where he felt safe. Being under the covers of his bed sounded like a vacation from the noise, and them. Those who haunted him the most. 

He just hoped his ghosts wouldn't follow him home. 

───

"There you are, Jack."

Startled by the sudden voice, Jackson turned to see Kai march towards him. The Parker's expression was completely unreadable, which sparked that pit of uncertainty in his stomach, scrambling to think of something to say. He opened his mouth to respond to the siphoner, but was swiftly interrupted when Kai grabbed his upper arm and dragged him down the hall. Alright, so he was clearly not in a good mood. It wouldn't be personal, right? Did he do something wrong?

Whatever it was, it was potentially damaging the material of his casual blazer. It was the first time in a long time that he decided to wear a blazer over a coat and he wasn't paid a single compliment. He was led into his own room, with him pushed inside first, and the door closed after Kai. This was even worse. Being alone with him meant a variety of things, none of which sounded like a fun, amazing time for him. Jackson tensed, ready for a verbal assault on his character.

Instead, Kai pushed him against a wall and pressed his mouth onto his in an almost bruising kiss. Jackson, surprised by the sudden swing of mood, placed a hand at the nape of Kai's neck, trying to catch up with the fleeting yet intense kisses. There wasn't much else he could do, stuck between the wall and the siphoner's body that was keeping him there. His mind was split between wanting to stay there and trying to build the courage to excuse himself so he could get to his much needed trip to the library.

Kai's hands travelled lower Jackson's waist, stopping at his trousers where he began to unbuckle his belt. Panic caught up quickly, his hands on Kai's upper arms in an attempt to slow down the situation. His zip was pulled down, his skin hot to the touch as the Parker's hands dipped beneath the fabric of his briefs. His own grasp on Kai's arms tightened in anticipation. He felt like heat radiated off of him, burning up so fast that he was left a little breathless.

"What are you— oh," Jackson inhaled sharply when Kai's hands took hold of him with slow strokes. "Fuck. Okay."

"What were you doing with Jo?"

The witch could barely respond, allowing himself a second to whisper out a shaky: "What?"

"Jo was out with you and she came back with mascara running down her face," His voice was soft, and if Jackson had the ability to be concerned, he would've noticed how calculatingly even it was. "Thinking about becoming Jack and Jill together, hmm? I just wanna know how that came to be."

Was he jealous? Obsessed? Both thoughts only worked to turn him on, sending spikes of electricity straight to his erection. His head hung low, the air charged with his soft pants, and all he wanted was to kiss Kai. But when he tried to connect their lips, Kai moved his own head away with a tut of disapproval. Was he reprimanding him? He didn't mind all that much, it was an interesting change of pace.

"What... why... are you doing this?" And why was that such a hard sentence to get out?

"Because I use sexuality to get what I want. It's called being resourceful," Kai said, very matter of factly. "Now answer my question."

"Can't... think."

"Yes, you can," The siphoner's strokes were slowly climbing in speed, cooing out: "C'mon, Campbell. Think. Think as hard as your dick is in my hands right now." He couldn't tell if Kai's voice had gotten darker. "You're already worked up and I didn't even have to spit on my hand."

"Fuck, Kai. You're ruining me."

This time, when Jackson tried to kiss Kai, it was reciprocated. His kisses were softer; slower. Much easier for the witch to keep up while he tried to get himself somewhat out of the fog in his brain. Something about Jo. What did he say about Jo? Jackson could barely remember, his groans hitting a few higher notes. Kai was jealous. Why was he jealous in the first place? Did he think Jo slept with him?

"If you... think I slept with her, I didn't," Jackson muttered when Kai pulled away, biting back the urge to thrust into Kai's hand.

"Did you kiss her?"

"No."

"Did you touch her?"

"God. No."

Kai studied him, blue-grey eyes with dilated pupils, before speaking again with a little smirk curving his lips. "Atta boy. See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Something definitely was. Jackson could only muster a moan muffled by his own closed mouth, his eyes fluttered shut for a few moments. He let his head hit the wall behind him and he could hear a low hum coming from the brunet in front of him. It wasn't so much that his brain was short circuiting as it was someone pouring water directly onto the circuit, causing electricity to fly up in sparks with its last act. Common sense was fizzling in his brain and he was counting down the seconds for it to die altogether.

His thoughts sunk back to earlier, to Stevie's words and her cheeks red with frustration: Your sobriety is completely dependent on Kai and you know he knows it. Kai fucking likes that you're emotionally dependent on him, he gets off on it because he's a sick fuck. And you know what happens? Eventually he's going to ignore you long enough for you to pick up the bottle again so he can pretend to be better than you.

That was the last thing he wanted to think about. His teeth sunk into the flesh of his bottom lip, unable to stop the noises he was making as he felt Kai's thumb roll over the head. He wished Kai would stop teasing him and get on with whatever he really wanted from him.

"I want you to think about me, Jack," He could detect a breathlessness to Kai's voice. "Any time you're lost or vulnerable. Think of me."

Jackson's eyes opened, glancing down at the Parker with an attempt at a small laugh, though it was interrupted with a low sigh. Seemed a bit random. "Anything you want, Kai."

The siphoner let an impish smile curve his lips, as if there was nothing else he could agree with more. His hands slipped out from Jackson's briefs and he sunk to his knees. Hands curled onto his trousers and tugged them down, before they climbed back up to his briefs. Jackson quickly curled a hand over Kai's wrist before he could do anything else.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Did the hand job turn you into a moron?"

"Kai."

"Fine," He stood. "Keep your dick hard all day."

The Parker reached forward and pulled up Jackson's trousers, before his hands tugged the zip up. "And when you're alone in your room, jerking off and trying to imagine my hand instead of yours, and your mouth moaning into mine, well..." His eyes lowered to the Campbell's lips before meeting his gaze, his eyes gazing up through dark lashes and a smirk flickering across his face. "I don't have to repeat myself, do I?"

"No," Surprisingly, Jackson's voice was even, despite the aching down below. He could be a potential winner for the stupidest man alive, he should've just let Kai have his way with him.

"Good. Gotta say, you're great at following instructions," Kai's hands were looping the belt back through the buckle of Jackson's trousers. "You have no idea how many idiots hear harder and decide to go faster."

He didn't give Jackson any leeway to respond, the siphoner's hands making their way up to the lapels of the Campbell's casual blazer. "Dig the jacket. The look is very, uh, Hugh Grant. It's sexy."

"Kai, if you say one more word, I'm going to take you to my bed and fuck you."

Kai's grin turned wolfish, before opening his mouth.

───

"Fuck. Harder."

Kai's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, forcing Jackson's head to be pressed between the crook of the Parker's neck and the mattress. His linen shirt had been made faintly damp with Bergamot and nutmeg scented sweat, courtesy of his fragrance mixing with the perspiration. But the noises Kai was making was easily worth the uncomfortable position and the mixing scents between the two. His own arms were wrapped around Kai's waist, making sure his body stayed relatively still with each thrust.

The Parker's arms loosened enough for Jackson to tilt his head up at Kai, listening to the asynchronous panting and groaning from himself and Kai. Thinking about Kai moaning into his mouth was one thing - but making it happen in real time spiked his pulse enough for him to imagine the Parker feeling his racing heart beneath his fingertips, right on his carotid arteries. Jackson's gaze focused on Kai's features, the way his eyes were fluttered shut, brows furrowed enough for the crease to appear, teeth set on his bottom lip. Gods couldn't compose anything as glorious as the sounds Kai made. He thought he'd known heaven but the only heaven he could and would ever experience was between the siphoner's legs.

His lips pressed kisses up the Parker's throat, worshiping him with his own version of latria. Kai let out a breathy laugh, his hands cupping Jackson's jaw to tilt his head up, before connecting their lips. Kai's right hand moved to the back of the Campbell's head, threading his fingers through the short coils of his hair. When Jackson slowed his thrusts to rocking against Kai's pelvis, he could feel the brunet's tongue semi-paralysed in his mouth, his voice box uttering a muffled whimper. This elicited a smile from the witch.

"Mm God, you're so..." Kai didn't get to finish the rest of his sentence, trailing off with a soft moan.

"I'm so, what?" Jackson was mildly surprised by the rasp in his own voice.

"Good. Great. Fucking amazing," The Parker let out a shaky exhale. "Just shut up and fuck me."

The easiest request he'd gotten all day. He readjusted himself, before thrusting up inside Kai at a much faster tempo than before, hearing the siphoner gasp and clamp a hand on each of Jackson's shoulders. Kai's noises were slightly louder, and as much as he wanted to tell him to lower his voice, the Campbell was too fucking horny to even try to articulate it. All he could do was pant like a dog and bury his face in Kai's t-shirt to quieten his groans. If this was the consequence to eating the apple, then he didn't regret being punished at all.

"Fuck, right there," Kai was barely louder than a whisper. "Don't stop. Please."

Jackson's eyes widened slightly. He could get a nose bleed just relaying that please in such a pathetic tone. "Say that again?"

"Please don't stop," Like a prayer. Jackson could force the Parker down and really make him scream. Kai didn't seem to notice how crazy he made Jackson. His eyes were closed, his nails digging into the witch's shoulders. "God, please. I just need to..."

Kai buried his head into the crook of Jackson's shoulder, clutching onto him so tightly his knuckles were white. His dark hair in such a disarray was so attractive to Jackson - well, everything about Kai was incredibly attractive to him when the siphoner was begging and moaning and trying to get the release he was desperately pleading for. It softened his edges, if it made any sense, to be reliant on the witch to make him orgasm. Jackson would happily fuck him until Kai saw stars.

"So close," Kai breathed, lifting his head up so that he could look at Jackson, noses brushing against each other. "I keep thinking about how hard your dick is right now and-" He stopped abruptly, letting out a small whimper. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

His hips ached but the new wave of motivation stopped him from slowing down. Kai tried to move in time with Jackson's thrusts, but he couldn't seem to move without getting that dazed look on his face. The Parker's moans were getting louder, punctured between cursing and kissing the Campbell. The latter did good to silence Kai's noises, until he did the thing where he was so overwhelmed with an emotion, he couldn't kiss back.

"I need you, Jack," Kai's words came out as a whimper. "So badly. You're mine, all mine."

Jackson answered this with faster thrusts to get over the edge, but he only managed to get a handful in before they both orgasmed. Kai tensed up, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted in a silent scream. White oozed out from his dick, running down the base. Jackson came inside him with a low groan, into the condom that he had hastily rolled on.

He realised the steady feeling of pain through waves of pleasure was Kai's claws dug deep into his shoulders. He let out a long exhale, trying not to notice how goose bumps on his skin appeared under Kai's touch; how sweat slicked their bodies were. Kai's breaths slowly faded from his senses. Of course, his mind would wander to dark places - blind spots where the sun couldn't touch. He hallucinated. Hallucinated Samara, then Isaiah, then Kai... then Jennifer. He couldn't forget how real Adrien felt to him. The realisation that there were no pockets of peace in his mind was a slow, torturous one. With each interaction, imagined or otherwise, new cracks formed in his mind, like a delicate teacup put under pressure.

The teacup will shatter.

"Stop it."

Jackson realised he had been staring at Kai's collarbone, raising his gaze to meet the Parker's. "What?"

"Thinking. Stop whatever you're thinking," Kai was frowning, like he was disappointed by Jackson's mental absence. "You always get trapped by it, and then you start brooding."

"Sorry, I was just thinking about..." He paused. Was it smart to tell someone about something that was clearly a sign he needed help? Kai would probably claim that poor habits was affecting him. Jesus - was there anyone in his life that would believe him? "I don't know."

"Ugh, spare me the coy pretence," The siphoner rolled his eyes. "It's one thing to be a liar, but a bad liar? I know what you're thinking about: killing. You're trying to convince yourself that you wouldn't make someone's insides become their outsides if given the chance. Just admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you're just as much of a killer as the Beaumont Stalker. That deep down, you appreciate that he's giving a voice to the unmentionable part of you hidden by layers of trauma induced amnesia. You're a shrike, Jack. A butcher bird. You know what they are? They're delicate little passerines that kill their prey by impaling them on sharp objects. Spikes, thorns, barbed wire. I think you wanna impale your admirer with a weapon of your own."

The Campbell narrowed his eyes, frowning. "Whose side are you on?"

"Who said there were sides?"

"Alright. Fine. I want to kill him, and I know it will feel cathartic, and..."

"Powerful. It'll make you feel powerful," Kai's smile was a soft curve of his lips. "Killing the wicked, just like God. Killing must make God feel powerful too, right? And are we not created in His image?"

The witch studied him with a uneasiness twisting in his stomach. He didn't exactly expected that Kai would also be a fellow enjoyer of religious analogies, or of the desire for brutal and bloody retribution. Actually, that was a stupid assumption. Of course he would be all for brutal and bloody murder. No wonder he sounded a little like an admirer of the killer.

Admirer....

"You referred to the killer as my admirer," Jackson pointed out. "Why admirer? Killing the people around me and terrorizing me with phone calls isn't exactly an indication of affection. A fanatic, perhaps, but not a suitor."

"On the contrary. Maybe the murders are a courting gift," When the Campbell stared at him with a scrunched up nose, Kai defended himself with: "What? I watch Ricki Lake, sue me."

"Oh, good. I'm getting ridiculous theories from an unstable man who watches rubbish television."

"Says the other unstable man."

"Touché."

Kai made a noise that sounded like a small hum, leaning in to kiss Jackson. An innocent kiss deepened, though, and the witch could feel Kai's grasp tighten on his shoulders. He didn't have much of a say when Kai moved so that he was on top - not that he would've objected to that. The palm of Kai's hand swiped back the sweaty coils that had been stuck to his forehead, and he couldn't help the nagging voice at the back of his head reminding him about his secret meeting with Stevie.

His timing couldn't be worse.

Jackson pulled away, praying that the lie that left his lips would be believable. "Can't. Promised Bea that I'd help her with party preparations."

Kai's lip twitched, moving away from Jackson entirely. "Remind me to kill her when I see her."

"Don't be dramatic," The witch propped himself up. "You can have me after I help her for a couple hours."

"I'm not being dramatic. There's someone out there who's killing people to get close to you and I'm the only one who can protect you. And you're stubbornly refusing my protection," He sat up, visibly irritated by the Campbell's words.

"I thought you said I was a shrike."

"A shrike is still a bird, and a bird can easily be locked in a cage. Or killed," The Parker tilted his head. "The killer's trying to send a message to you. Are you gonna let his love go to waste?"

Jackson furrowed his brows, confused by Kai's question. "I don't think this is love. Hate, perhaps. Pure, unadulterated hatred. Or obsession from a spoiled mind."

He turned away from Kai. "Either way, I'll make sure they're six feet under."