Gabriel sat at the edge of the party, a cigarette in hand as he watched the witches relax. He didn’t notice the time passing quickly.
“Tired, young prince?” a voice said, Gabriel was stifling a yawn as he looked up to see Dorian. The witch king was dressed in black velvet.
“Getting there, yeah.” Gabriel nodded, smiling slightly he shifted on the stone bench and looked up at the diminishing crowds. Dorian took the empty seat beside him and followed the vampyres gaze.
“I'm surprised you're still here.” The king flicked his hand at the bushes behind him and the few overgrown branches moved out of his way.
“You’re a nature mage?” Gabriel asked, Dorian chuckled pleasantly.
“Not at all.” He snapped his jewelled fingers and amber flames curled around his hand.
“Jack of all trades.” Gabriel nodded.
“Master of a few.” The king laughed. He noted without expression as Gabriel brushed the back of his own neck. “And yourself?” Gabriel brushed his neck again something was irritating him. He raised his other hand and sparks crackled between his claws. “That is a rare gift.” Dorian grinned sounding like a child in a candy store. "I’ll have to see more later.” The witch’s voice was almost a purr as he leant towards Gabriel. The vampyres low growl didn’t deter him. “You’re not one for the flirtatious art, I take it?”
“No, I'm not.” Gabriel's tone was sharp.
“Well I am.” Dorian laughed sitting back. “I probably do it in my sleep, do tell me shut up if I ever offend.”
“Don’t worry,” Gabriel smiled brushing the back of his neck, he shifted in his seat again. “I will.” He frowned as a low buzzing began to build under the continuous beat of the music.
“What’s wrong?” Dorian frowned all humour gone from his voice. Gabriel shook his head trying to clear it.
“I'm not sure.” He stood and turned to look at the darkening forest Dorian stood and swept his hand to one side, the bushes parted.
“Wick?” Dorian frowned, the shaman looked up from her kneeling position, dropping the stick she’d been drawing in the dirt with.
“Let me through.” A voice snarled behind them, Sylver and Deacon hurried to Gabriel.
“Are you okay?” Sylver asked
“Fine.” Gabriel frowned at his twin who was looking at Wick.
“He could feel you getting agitated, we were right over the other side of the clearing.” Deacon said slightly breathlessly. Sylver suddenly strode forward and shoved Wick by the shoulders into the dirt, Sylver's eyes blazed as he seemed to read the symbols that she had scratched into the mud. Dorian watched Sylver closely as the warm and slightly sticky evening turned cold.
Behind them people were turning to see what was happening. Lou and Dawn pushed to the front as Sylver turned slowly to Wick, who lay on her back, propped up on her elbows. Dorian used the toe of his boot to scuff out the swirls and shapes in the mud.
“You idiot.” Sylver's voice was a deadly whisper, he took one step towards her and Dorian firmly took his arm.
“Wick,” the king said “go, now.” She scrambled to her feet.
“Now.” Dorian's voice was still clam but Gabriel saw his free hand curl into a fist.
“What was it?” Gabriel asked as Sylver turned to make sure the symbols had all been scrubbed out, Sylver's hands shook slightly.