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(Meta note: thanks again to Draugr for letting me borrow some of his characters for this series, primarily Randall.)

(Thematic note: this is the nearest to romance novels I will probably ever get -- in style or content. I expect my actual opinions on its less literary, and most famous examples, will be made clear if it wasn't already from earlier parts.)

(Homage note: if you are a Harry Potter fan, rest assured that similarity you may observe in the final scene is coincidental.)

The Strangest Boyfriend III

"Ready for the prick?" asked the cheetah in scrubs, as he pulled the large needle out of its package.

"Yep," Randall answered, looking away, but trying to stay relaxed.

The wolf soon winced, as the needle went into the shaved and sterilized patch of skin on his forearm. It was a lot more than a prick, since it was a lot bigger needle than an immunization shot. He closed his other hand, gripping the invisible canine's hand in his own.

"We do appreciate this, you know," the cheetah added, as Randall's needle was taped down.

"I wouldn't have volunteered otherwise," Randall replied with a smile he tried to force through clenched teeth. It still hurt.

"If you feel any dizziness, nausea, other bad stuff, press the button by your bed, and I'll be right over, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks."

The cheetah walked away to handle others in the room. Randall found himself watching the tail once the cheetah's back was turned.

"Tell me something," Nightshade requested invisibly from the chair beside the bed. "What exactly makes a male attractive?"

"It's not easy to put into words," Randall murmured in response, hoping he would not be overheard. "What makes you smell something, and know it's food? Before you can even think much about it, you... react. So it is with tail, I guess."

"But... will any tail do?"

"It's not the tail per se, it's what's on the other side. The tail is just the eye catcher that is allowed to be shown in public. Think about it like... an expensive car, and how that is used to attract others."

"I thought it was aesthetically pleasing."

"It is. And that aesthetic pleasure is in others wondering: who's driving that thing?"

Nightshade chuckled. Randall didn't worry, because only he could hear his boyfriend at this moment.

"Consider the tail of a random furson to be the same," Randall concluded.

"So... the only reason this does not work for females is... you dislike like the answer to that second question?"

"Well, it doesn't get the same reaction, if that's what you mean. I can appreciate beauty in many forms -- as I would think you would know by now," he added with a teasing smile at the blank wall.

"Indeed... Um, Randall," Nightshade said, seeming to change the subject, "I ask for a good reason."

The grip of the wolf's hand by the invisible one suggested this was a serious question. But Randall's hormones were still flowing from looking over that cheetah, so he was relatively sanguine. "What is it?"

"In order for this to work, I have to... show you something. And I am not sure how you will react."

It sounded so much like a previous boyfriend confessing his fetish, that Randall snorted.

"Ehhhhh, I don't knowwww," he teased, "I don't much go for weird."

"I am serious," Nightshade insisted. "This is something that I have never told my other boyfriends about, and I'm --"

Randall snorted again, suppressing a giggle. It was impossible for him not to hear just as much "fetish confession" in the language as before. It was enough mirth, in fact, that he had to clench his teeth and clear his throat with a straight face. One of the other nurses was looking at him curiously.

Randall quickly calmed his mirth, but Nightshade did not resume talking. Randall imagined he was being glared at, if the other canine were visible.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "seriously, what is it?"

"I envision our relationship as... about good feelings, like comfort, familiarity, trust, and... whatever that tail thing is. If it were a house... more than once, I wonder if you will be scared away -- or burn it down for the insurance money."

"Enough with the mixed metaphors," Randall offered, "and just tell me already."

"To be honest... I am nervous about finally getting to taste your blood. I have been wanting this since the day I met you. And... it will be so wonderful... but it will change me. It will be so easy to... dominate you."

Randall had a sense he was not talking in the vernacular. "Domination sounds kinda fun," he teased. But Nightshade did not reply again, so he got more serious.

"Domination, huh?" he tried to start again, "is that like 'possession'?"

"It is far more insidious," answered Nightshade, voice seeming to deepen a little. "Possession is where a spirit manipulates a mortal's body like a puppet. Think back to three weeks ago, when Virgil possessed Corey. What happened when he stopped controlling him?"

"He fell on the floor... and the spirit rose up out of fur. So you're saying... he was... like... surrounding his body?"

"Indeed. That is possession. If a spirit were to posses a dead body, you would have a zombie. But Corey did not act like a zombie, did he? He talked. He acted rather naturally. That was because of what else Virgil was doing: dominance. Influencing his mind."

Randall nodded thoughtfully.

"'Possession' of a living mortal implies dominance, but not the other way around. It is dominance that is truly powerful. Fear of dominance is what drove you mortals to write legends about us."

It still seemed vague to Randall. "So it's like... mind control?" he whispered.

"It is not that simple. It is best described as the source of your happy coincidences," Nightshade concluded.

That intrigued Randall, since it was one of the remaining mysteries in their relationship. "It is?"

"Yes. As you have seen, I can take many forms, which mortals can have varying reactions to. It is less 'mind control', and more just... encouragement of others. It is a natural part of my affect; it is what drew you to me."

Randall remembered how sudden his feelings were; seeing Nightshade that day at the grocery store and how quickly he felt sympathy for him, if not the beginnings of a crush.

"When I become stronger," Nightshade continued, "so will my affect. It is like someone who naturally talks loud. He cannot control it, but it still affects you. The question is, are you willing to go through that?

Randall looked around, to make sure none of the nurses were nearby. "Won't that... expose you?"

"On the contrary, I will be invisible like I am now, or similarly out of the way. No one else will see anything... except you behaving differently."

That did not follow from the question in Randall's mind. "Huh?"

"The point of dominance is to convince a mortal to do something a spirit wants, or prevent them from doing something the spirit does not want. Think about trying to convince someone normally. Many times, it takes a little nudge. Other times, it requires more effort."

"Sure, but... what does that have to do with me behaving differently?"

"In order for you to understand, to really 'feel it', you have to do something... 'not you' because of it. Because I 'made you' do it."

"But... you won't hurt me, right?" Randall asked, not liking the sound of that.

"There will be no pain involved, but... you may surprise yourself."

Randall was genuinely torn. He could get a mystery solved, but it sounded really awkward. Randall trusted him... but the fact that the wolf would not 'be himself' made him ill at ease.

"What if... I say no?" he asked tentatively, lowering his voice even more.

"Then, once I drink your blood, and become stronger... we will... have to see each other less often, and more carefully, to prevent its effects. And not have any more... scary adventures, for a while, until I am weaker again."

Randall was surprised. Even as Nightshade spoke, the invisible hand gripped him harder.

"What?... Is it... really that bad?" Randall asked nervously.

"As I said, it is my affect. It is simply 'me.' It was foolish of me, perhaps, not to think of this until now... I never had to worry about it with Cody, since... he did not have to put up with it for long. In fact, it helped comfort him, after... his infection took hold."

The hand seemed to cling tighter, as if Nightshade was the one enduring the pain of drawn blood. "I'm sorry, Randall. Maybe... maybe this will be harder than I thought..."

"Wait, slow down," insisted the wolf gently, "I didn't say no, okay? I said, what if. And now that I know what if, I... I need to think about it. It's... a hard choice, actually."

"I understand. I will let you think for a while... but just know that... the more the bag fills..."

Randall looked over at the blood bag. The red had finally managed to seep all the way up and down the plastic coating, and the bag was beginning to expand. He felt Nightshade's grip on him loosen. It reminded him of the words Virgil had said: that Nightshade's priorities were not with the wolf, but with the liquid pumping through his veins.

Randall knew that, in a strict sense, it was probably true. After all, in similarly warped logic, eating and sleeping were bigger "priorities" than seeing Nightshade. If he were forced to choose between starvation and giving Nightshade up, he would give up his boyfriend. He would have to.

But he considered Virgil's statements to be equally contrived. And the idea that he was now being forced to 'choose', somehow, didn't make any sense to him. He wanted both.

"Can I... just put limits on it?" he whispered. "Like... agree what kind of things you'll make me do?"

"Absolutely. I do not want to hurt you with it, and anything I know will help."

That felt better. He was starting to feel a little fuzzier. Perhaps it was the blood draw.

Randall sighed. "That sounds a lot better," he answered.

"I just... hope you will be able to get into it."

"I think I will," he reassured, seeing this as his out from the conundrum.

"However, if you would accept it," insisted Nightshade, "I would like to make you do at least one thing you do not usually do. Something small."

It didn't take much pondering for Randall's thoughts to return to the husky he was going to see this weekend, again. "Um... how about something like what Corey did? I mean, minus the pizza."

"Something sexual? That would certainly be easy. If you pick a weekend when you are willing to... be adventurous, I could perhaps... show you some adventures?" he asked suggestively.

"That doesn't sound half bad," Randall sighed quietly with a smile.

"Then take a quick nap, and... I will see what I can do," teased Nightshade.

Randall smiled, and then closed his eyes. He didn't feel particularly sleepy, with the pain in his arm, but decided to at least rest his eyes for a moment.

"You doing okay?" suddenly asked a familiar voice.

When Randall opened his eyes, he saw the male cheetah was back and staring at him.

"Just checking on you," he offered, with the same caring smile.

"I'm just fine," Randall flatly insisted. "I'm not even... well... okay, maybe a little tired, but I'm fine."

"Alright, then. We're almost done sucking you dry," he added playfully.

The way he said it... Randall looked up at him, a little expectantly. He words seemed to carry more than just professional kindness, and as adventurous has Randall had become, he decided he should try to find out -- but in a very understated way.

"Well, if you do that, I'll probably be tired all weekend," he found himself saying.

"The lethargy should lift soon... if it doesn't, you should call a nurse."

Once again, Randall read something else in his body language, despite the clear and professional tone of his voice. He wasn't gesturing, but... there was something about the way he was standing that was... very suggestive.

The wolf lowered his voice, as he asked, "and... would you happen to have a phone number for one?"

He immediately handed Randall a business card from his pocket.

"Here's mine," he explained. "If you call me, I'll be able to tell you... if it's serious."

"Thank you," Randall answered politely, and giving a little extra smile to the double entendre.

The cheetah smiled back, and walked away -- with an extra swish of his tail.

"I presume that was a demonstration," Randall sighed, still feeling a bit of a rush.

"Indeed," answered the invisible voice beside him. "Did you feel 'controlled'?"

This gave Randall pause. "No," he answered, a bit dumb-struck, as he replayed what had just happened in his mind. "But... it was... well, not something I would normally do. That's actually kinda scary," he added with a giddy smile, despite himself.

Nightshade didn't say anything.

"And you just... did the same to that guy?" Randall asked. "How did you know he was gay?"

"I was not actually certain," Nightshade answered. "I merely made him realize you thought him attractive. If he was not gay, or had seen nothing in you, he would have ignored it. And you would not have seen a gleam in his eye that did not exist."

"So... what did you do to me?"

"The same thing," Nightshade answered. "I made sure you read his interest for what it was."

"But... you're sure you didn't give me an itch to chase tail?"

"It was clear you were thinking about it even before our conversation started, was it not? You put yourself in the mood without my intervention. I guessed you would only need a small nudge. And you did."

"That's all, huh?" Randall marveled in a whisper. He could see how, using that power pervasively, Nightshade could get him into a new job, or change the fursons he saw at bars on Friday nights. Merely nudging strangers to act on inclinations they already had was the only power he needed.

"So I take it," Nightshade said dryly, "that I do not have to worry about this power breaking us up."

"No," Randall stated nervously, "but... it certainly does make me want to understand it better. And what else you could do with it."

"You should feel lucky," Nightshade reassured. "Cody was the one who had to put up with a lot of my mistakes, and teach me what mortals want out of their relationships... which is so different from the romance novels they write."

Randall silently rolled his eyes; he knew the canine was naive, but still had trouble imagining that he ever considered romance novels to be relationship guidance.

"The biggest thing he taught me was: affection is tied to trust. No matter how much I may want to, I cannot 'take over' your life -- even without meaning to. That is why I keep my 'affect' small, except when we are 'having adventures' together."

Randall was greatly reassured -- but not completely. Because the mood changes and unspoken directions Randall felt "on their adventures" made them both as wonderful -- or as scary -- as intended. He always felt in control, but not always sure of how he himself would react to what was next.

"I want to see it," he murmured. "I want to know what your affect is like, in the real world, when you are powerful. To know that I can stand up to it... or if I can't, what will happen to me."

"In that case," Nightshade growled, his voice becoming unearthly again and hand disappearing, "it is time for me to drink your blood."

The cheetah, unfortunately, returned just at that moment. "Alright," he stated as if nothing had happened between them, "it looks like you're done. So, let's get the needle out of you..."

As he slowly took the needle out -- which actually hurt, as the pain Randall had gotten used to was disturbed -- Randall saw a dark, wispy cloud of fur appear with glowing red eyes, formless except for a vague shape and a snout. Until, that is, the snout split to an open mouth, and a pair of sabre-tooth steel fangs grew, though they came to extremely tiny points.

Once the needle was removed, the cheetah looked down at him with a pleasant smile. "Now I'm sure you're tired and thirsty, but don't worry. We have plenty of orange juice outside. Let me just stop the bleeding on this, and we'll get you all fixed up."

When he got out gauze and pressed it down on the needle mark on Randall's shaved arm, an amoebic fur cloud in the shape of a hand reached out, and with a glow, gently grabbed the back of the cheetah's head, fingers wrapping around the top with the wrist behind his ears behind.

And there, the nurse kept the pressure on, and started at the wound... or really, as Randall kept watching him, seemed to suddenly be daydreaming as he pressed. He assumed Nightshade was causing this reaction.

Once his main observer was incapacitated -- at least, from turning around and spotting him -- the cloud shifted its weight over to the bag. With a flash of intensity from the eyes, the fangs sunk into the plastic, right above the valve for the tube.

The bag's plastic slowly started to bend in the light, changing shape as the material was redistributed. Nightshade seemed to suck it up on one side, and squeezing it out on the other. However, the liquid seemed to be no different; Randall presumed Nightshade was filtering his energy out, somehow.

While Randall could not read the nigh-invisible face, it seemed to be radiating the nearest thing the wolf had felt to lust coming from Nightshade; the same feeling during some of their "adventures", but much more intense. He presumed it was the nearest thing Nightshade had to a libido; or perhaps a sense of greed.

As the drinking continued, the ephemeral eyes became a more intense, bloody red. And just like the spirits in Nightshade's bridge escapades, the ephemeral fur went from shiny, to reflective, to gently glowing as the energy from the blood was absorbed.

Randall found himself unable to break his gaze; partly in curiosity and wonder, but also because he felt... satisfaction. It was the same satisfaction he felt when he had just given another male a blowjob. This seemed to be the nearest thing Nightshade had to that. He wondered if it was the bigger "affect", but didn't really care. He felt good about it.

It took another two or three solid minutes -- during which the cheetah continued blissfully daydreaming -- for Nightshade to drink his fill; and for Randall's satisfaction to finally peak into almost an orgasmic afterglow of comfort and joy. And then, Nightshade retracted his jaws, released his grip on the cheetah, and vanished.

"Oh, um, sorry," the cheetah started, lowering his voice, "I was just... thinking about what could possibly happen... this weekend..."

Randall just smiled. He knew that he could have it all planned out, with a phone call after the cheetah's shift was over.

***

After getting home from the hospital and comfortably curling up under the blanket, Randall heard a knock on the door. He hoped Kana would answer it.

Instead, it repeated. No such luck. The wolf dragged himself up, annoyed; he was most of the way into a nap.

He slowly opened the door to find Corey in a long trench coat -- except shorter, and with very different eyes. Even before he recognized who it was, he felt a chill run down his spine.

"We need to talk," stated the husky's mouth, with an ethereal voice.

Randall immediately opened his mouth to call for Nightshade, but the spirit interrupted him. "He gave me permission to show up. Because he is now more sure than ever he can dissolve me if I hurt you, and he does not really care what I have to say to you."

Randall was a little suspicious about this claim. "How do I know you're not just making this up?" he insisted, stepping outside and closing the door, rather than letting him in the house.

"Because he cares for nothing right now, except himself. Have a look." He reached under his coat, and pulled out a pair of binoculars which had black tape over the lenses.

Randall took them and couldn't see the point, but he looked. Despite only seeing a pinhole of light, a dimmer portion of his surroundings unnaturally refracted through -- as well as a number of other strange auras, the largest being a yellow radiating patch.

"What is that?" Randall asked, presuming this was the object of Virgil's statement.

"That is how big Nightshade has made his... what did he call it... 'affect.' It is covering half of Morgan park."

Randall let the binoculars fall from his eyes in confusion.

"Your 'boyfriend' has decided to stretch his wings. To enjoy his new, higher levels of power. As we speak, he is creating a mass orgy. Probably by providing a suggestion that there is one to everyone who walks into the field."

Randall could hear the edge in his voice. He knew Virgil was a liaison between Nightshade and the spirit "collective", "government," whatever it was, and thus he had reason not to be happy about this.

"According to him, he has been so dry for so long, he does not care anymore. He is happy. He is joyful. In truth, he is 'high'."

"Why would he... do that?" Randall asked, both to himself, and because his heart hoped to hear another explanation.

Virgil just smiled cryptically. "He has been feeding you so much shit, where should I even start? I bet he is still comparing blood to 'spirit food'."

"... Yes," Randall answered hesitantly.

"He came up with that line long before he started this stupid 'boyfriend' idea. After all, there is a ring of truth to it: without our energy source, we will indeed slowly disintegrate into nothingness. But that way of thinking greatly underestimates us -- just what we want mortals who recognize our existence to do."

Randall now crossed his arms.

"Spirits cannot 'store' their energy. They have no 'fat.' They can only conserve it, spend it, or waste it. And when you get that much energy at once, it has to come out. Those who succeed at their assignments do so by spending it in clever ways to help the mission. They do not become enamored with their powers. They do not create a mass orgy in a public park for no reason."

The mention of assignments made Randall decide this was the only chance he would get to check Nightshade's story -- which, now, apparently needed checking. "But back when he was... working for his people, before he... changed his mind, he was successful and skillful, right?"

Virgil's voice softened a little, but his eyes did not. "Yes. I am sure he has told you the truth about himself. Especially because, as I recall, he promises his boyfriends no less."

"Then how do you know he's not doing it for a reason?" That was what Randall wanted to believe. He couldn't see Nightshade being so reckless and thoughtless.

The husky responded to this question by grabbing the front of Randall's shirt, and picking him up, floating slightly off the ground to do so.

"He talked you into feeding him," Virgil growled, "with a line of shit. Fine. But now you will defend his dangerous behavior? Is that what you are telling me?"

Randall wasn't sure about the answer in his heart; but this obvious attempt to intimidate him strengthened his resolve, rather than weakening it.

"For better or worse, I trust him," he insisted. "He is my boyfriend. You don't get what that means apparently. It means that, even if he is feeding me shit, I will take his over yours."

Virgil suddenly pulled Randall much higher up, floating level with his house's second story window. The wolf's heart surged and a momentary terror overtook him as he felt his shirt arms slowly start ripping under the weight they were being asked to hold.

"If you keep feeding him," Virgil threatened, voice becoming darker and colder, "and he continues this behavior, then he will be declared a danger to our kind. And so will you."

He paused. Randall squirmed a little bit, until he felt another rip, then he became motionless in terror as he looked down at the ground for a moment.

"Do. Not. Underestimate. Us."

Virgil then flew down, and dropped the wolf from a foot off the ground, making the wolf -- still weak from the blood draw -- catch himself on his hands and knees. While shaken, he managed to glare up at the other canine who was now back on the ground.

"Have a nice day," Virgil added with a toothy smile, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Not sure what else to do, Randall locked his front door, and despite still feeling a little weak, went toward Morgan park. Nightshade and Kana agreed he couldn't trust Virgil, and so it was time to see the situation for himself.

During his several block walk, which got him huffing and puffing pretty quickly, he felt a lingering sense of trepidation. He had gone, in a single conversation, from being under Nightshade's wing to possibly dangerous. It was a position no mortal could clearly stand for long.

Normally, this was a situation he and Nightshade could have resolved in five minutes. But, even if Virgil had other motives, he seemed to be telling the truth about Nightshade not caring about protecting Randall.

That was the idea that kept Randall's stomach firmly in knots as he crossed the street toward the big sign and gates for Morgan Park. That was a change that spoke louder than words, and was clearer than any "line of BS".

As he went through the gates, he started looking around. There was the usual foot traffic for a sunny fall day, although Randall did notice, interestingly, there were more couples and groups of adults than usual, compared to the number of solo joggers and kits. Could this have been the affect at work?

In fact, as he kept walking Randall started to wonder if Virgil was lying. It seemed too contrived, too unlike Nightshade. Nightshade did have a "stronger" side to him, Randall had seen that; and he was always still restrained even if the "monster" got "carried away."

Perhaps Nightshade was doing something else here instead, Randall thought; something to advance the assignment Randall would soon get. It surely couldn't be something so pointless, obvious, and flashy as a public orgy.

But as Randall got closer, he started changing his mind yet again. Several of the couples were wandering into the grass by the lake; which he knew was fully encircled with trees, off the path. Could that be where it was?

He thought about going to find out... but he had to find Nightshade first. To ask him about this. To see if he was different. Besides, if anything, he might want to take the other canine with him, since even though he didn't "get" sex, he was pretty darn good at it.

In fact, he found himself getting a little aroused just remembering how good it was last time, which nicely took the edge off of some of his anxieties. He was reminded that he knew Nightshade; knew the spirit did indeed care about him. He wouldn't have done things previous boyfriends refused to do, while getting even less sexual fulfillment otherwise.

It wasn't a trick, Randall concluded. It was that Virgil didn't understand their relationship; didn't understand love, and how mutual it was. He knew only how to trick mortals, and so saw a trick in everything.

And just after his conclusion, he rounded a bend in the path, and saw a bench with a wolf on it unlike any he had seen before.

The jet black fur that somehow shined in the sun was clearly Nightshade's, but nothing else matched him. The face of this furson was much more wolf-like, the fur neat and orderly, as well as shorter. It showed off well-defined arms though his tank top, and athletic legs through his very short shorts. He wore red sneakers and sat lazily arms splayed across the bench, watching the passers by.

Randall's dick was halfway out of his sheath, and his heart was fluttering at the sight of this other male. He was the most attractive guy Randall had ever seen, and was crushing on him harder than anyone since high school. It was his "type" made flesh, straight from fantasy. Could this really be Nightshade?

Just in case he was wrong, he approached gingerly, and asked politely, "is this seat taken?"

The wolf looked up at him, soft brown eyes seeming to complete the look, and allowing Randall's brain the glint of recognition he needed to believe it was a form of Nightshade.

"Not at all," he replied in a much smoother version of Nightshade's baritone voice. "Please, have a seat, pup."

This term of affection -- never spoken to him outside of The Bridge during one of their escapades -- reminded Randall that he was in Nightshade's affect field. In fact, he was at the center of it, if it had one. How long had it been affecting him?

Randall sat down, and with nothing but a gestural invitation, leaned against Nightshade's chest, and the other wolf wrapped his arm around him. Even if his dick weren't rock hard, Randall thought, this would be the most comfortable place he could imagine. He wanted to stay here forever.

"So," Nightshade murmured quietly after a long moment of Randall just basking, "how did your little talk with Virgil go?"

Randall presumed he was using the common name to avoid weird sounds. "Well... let's just say he's not too happy with you," he teased affectionately. Partly he didn't want to spoil the mood, partly because he was now over that drop-scare -- much faster than some part of him thought he should be.

"I'm not surprised. He hates it when I blow off steam. He thinks I should use my powers to advance his cause, manipulating mortal minds with alacrity and power, without their consent of course. Getting information, forcing them to hurt themselves, making them enthralled servants, the usual."

Randall just nodded. It was a different spin on what Virgil had said.

"I told him I would rather add beauty and joy to the world. To express the joy, and warmth, and caring I feel right now. All thanks to you."

Randall smiled again, and leaned in. Nightshade, per their cuddling tradition, rubbed his head affectionately without even thinking.

"Um... but," Randall added, remembering the words he had been told, "I do have one suggestion for you."

"Name it."

"Uh, well, what he's upset about is not the joy and caring... but the fact that it is creating an orgy in the woods."

Nightshade seemed non-plussed. "Is it really? Because sex has nothing to do with the message I'm sending."

"What message is that?"

"You tell me," he teased, stroking the fur around Randall's ears lazily, "You're the one receiving it."

It was hard for Randall to think in this state, but he did his best. "Um... it's happiness, yeah... but... I'm also... ah..."

He found it hard to get the words out, so he lowered his voice to a whisper.

"... I'm also crushing on you really hard right now."

Nightshade looked a bit surprised. "So I'm assuming," he whispered back, "that's the sexual part."

"Yeah. And it's really strong. Those other feelings are just making way for it."

"Oh," murmured the other canine, with a bit of resignation in his voice. "I see. In that case, I will take his point. Shall we depart?"

Randall tried to get up, but Nightshade's arm kept him down.

"No no," gently teased Nightshade, "we're going in style."

"... take a picture!" Randall suddenly heard a girl exclaim from a group of teenage felines who rounded the bend.

"Yeah! Everyone, get ready!"

Nightshade wrapped his other arm around the wolf. "You too, Randall."

"Nonono get closer! Closer!"

Randall presumed those were coy instructions for him to, so he did.

"Everyone! On the count of three! One!"

Nightshade's fur started gently glowing, just like in their escapades.

"Two!"

It got brighter, but only the teenagers could see it and they were all staring at a phone on a stick.

"THREE!"

The phone flashed, and at that moment, Randall was blinded by a while light. He closed his eyes reflexively, and felt himself being pulled through a tube before suddenly returning to Nightshade's arms, in a room that smelled very different: his own house.

"I was thinking," Nightshade continued, sitting on Randall's couch as if nothing had happened, "of offering Kana and her girlfriend a nice dinner tonight. Would you mind?"

It was a surprise; but it was clear from the way he asked Nightshade had an ulterior motive. But given the mood Randall was in, and the fact that Nightshade was indeed proving to be as subtle as he expected, it didn't seem like a bad idea. "No problem... if I can finish my nap first."

Nightshade smiled back down at him. "Of course. I know it must have taken a lot out of you."

But Randall was so comforted and comfortable, he ended up most of the way asleep before he could reply.

***

Randall found dinner to be a little bit strange. He wasn't sure how much of the small weirdnesses were caused by his boyfriend, and how many really were just the way the evening panned out.

For instance, something in the back of his mind told him not to drink, every time he looked at the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He didn't know if it was Nightshade giving him a nudge or whether he was just a little too ill-at-ease.

Just as strange, he found Kana to be... not herself. Not like she was being possessed, but... more girly than usual. Her general self-assurance and assertiveness seemed to have its edge taken off.

At least no hints were dropped that Nightshade was anything but mortal. After having cooked almost everything, Randall watched him eat a little impatiently but without any trouble, something in his previous form he always declined to do because he was insufficiently corporeal. Randall assumed this was part of his new, more fully lupine form.

Either way, it was a conversation that went from pleasant, to energetic, and ended up a little silly as the alcohol seemed to be kicking in. And after dinner, both couples cuddled together in the living room, in front of a movie. The two girls got the couch, Randall took Nightshade's lap in the easy chair -- feeling a little affectionate, despite the lack of drinking.

It was a mere 20 minutes into the movie that Nightshade whispered to him: "I'm sorry to ruin the mood, but would you be up for finishing your assignment?"

Randall seemed surprised. "Right now?" he whispered.

"In the event you are suspected, it is important we have multiple eye witnesses to you being home all evening," Nightshade explained.

Randall didn't see how that would work, given that he would have to leave to accomplish this, but presumed Nightshade had ideas.

"How long will this take?" he asked.

"Only about an hour, if you can talk fast," Nightshade reassured.

Randall was not enjoying the movie; he wasn't really a fan of rom-coms, and was basically outvoted in its selection. Besides, it would be a big weight off their relationship.

"Well... alright. Let's get it over with, huh?"

"In that case, close your eyes."

Randall did, expecting another teleport... but instead what he got was the TV going out, and a loud crack, and a flash. And that flash persisted as a bright light, which then pulled Randall through a very brief teleport.

He reopened his eyes and found himself kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, 10 feet away from the couch he was just in. It was also suddenly pitch dark.

"--t the heck?" he heard Trisha say. "Did the power go --"

And not a moment later, the lights flickered back on -- which would have revealed Randall's new position, were he not hidden by the island with the stove on it.

"There we go."

"Cool," suddenly announced Randall's voice from across the room, "it even paused. This thing is really smart."

Randall presumed this was another trick by Nightshade; and that this is how he would be in two places at once, according to witnesses. Compared to the other things Nightshade had shown him, this was a simple and straightforward deception.

"I will get us out of here," an invisible voice whispered into his ear, "if you can sneak over to the front door."

Randall crept around past the island quickly, getting around the corner. He paused and took a tense breath, but neither of the other dogs heard him. He got to the entryway, and found Nightshade waiting for him.

He opened his arms for a hug -- but clearly, this was not a mere gesture of affection. Randall gripped him hard, and closed his eyes, as the bright light shone through his lids. He was pulled a lot further this time, landing on his feet on concrete.

Randall opened his eyes to find that he was standing on a street corner next to a gas station. And that Nightshade was back to his "weaker" appearance. Had he used up his power already?

"First," Nightshade explained in an ordinary tone, "you need to buy a cigarette lighter."

"What for?" Randall asked with a puzzled look.

Nightshade returned a serious one. "I apologize, but I am not allowed to tell you. You will know if you need it. Call it... insurance."

This annoyed Randall, after their conversation about honesty. "Not even a hint?" he pushed.

"Virgil's orders... really, they come from a lot higher than that," Nightshade answered cryptically. "... Can you just trust me on this one?"

"I always trust you," Randall answered -- but did not smile. He didn't like having to do so blindly in a situation like this.

He headed inside, and with proof of ID, got a lighter and returned outside to the waiting canine.

"Now turn the flame all the way up," Nightshade directed.

Randall did so, and clicked it, showing Nightshade the four-inch tall flame.

"Good," the spirit replied, even as his voice sounded a little nervous.

Randall turned the lighter off, and put it in his pocket, he asked, "now what?"

"Now, we get you into the pathology lab. By invitation to avoid committing any crimes."

"By invitation?" Randall repeated, "and just how are you going to do that?"

Another teleport, thirty minutes of talking mixed with kissing, and a couple whispered questions later, Randall had his answer: a guided tour.

"And if we continued down that hall," explained the cheetah, "we'd get to the pathology lab."

"What's in there?" asked Randall, trying to sound naive.

"Just a bunch of boring samples for ID."

"Oh, is that where the lab technicians do their work? Could I see it?"

"Well, I don't think that would be a good idea. I mean, you'd have to get special access, there's paperwork..."

But the cheetah suddenly seemed to zone out for a moment. And then, he snapped back to reality with a clever idea.

"Tell you what, though," he offered, "I can let you see what a lab technician's desk looks like. Would that be interesting?"

Randall presumed this was the invisible hand of Nightshade guiding him, so replied, "yeah, that's what I'm really interested in. It's been so long since I took biology."

He followed the cheetah down the hall, past a number of nurses, and then an increasing number of technicians. To Randall's surprise, no seemed to object to the VISITOR (according to his badge) wandering the halls at 8 PM on a Saturday.

Randall was taken behind a desk, to a back room, down a hallway, and then to another room. With all of the intermediate windows at the ends of parallel halls, it was difficult for him to follow. But, once the final door was opened with his badge, a well-lit room with four stations was their destination.

However, it was not empty. One of the stations was being used by a tall tiger staring at an untouched lab bench.

"Doctor Goddard?" asked the cheetah in surprise, "what are you doing here on a Saturday?"

The tiger spun his chair toward them. "The better question is," he asked sharply, "why is there a visitor here at 8 o'clock on a Saturday?"

Randall's stomach clenched. The question he was dreading was finally asked. He let his tour guide handle this.

"Well, sir," answered the cheetah, "this is a friend of mine, and he was just curious about th--"

And then, he suddenly stopped talking. But this time, instead of zoning out, he froze, and started to tip forward.

Randall, without thinking, grabbed him. He was heavy, so the best Randall could do was let him down gently.

"I'd really prefer an answer from you," stated the tiger. "Because you, Randall, led him into this, did you not?"

Not only was his voice sounding more ghostly, but that peculiar grammatical construction made Randall's heart skip.

"Virgil!" he demanded, once he had released the cheetah.

The fur of the cheetah rose up out of him, and formed a black shape, which materialized into a short husky.

"I'm right here," Virgil answered.

Randall recoiled in horror. "Then who is that!?"

"I am here to supervise your experiment," answered the tiger sharply. Moments later, he slumped back in his chair, and also passed out.

This time the black cloud reformed into a hazy figure, a heavy dark robe of smoke hanging over an invisible torso -- too short for legs, and lacking arms. The only thing it did not hide was a pair of glowing red eyes; eyes which made the figure remind Randall of "death" as rendered by previous artists.

Besides the visage itself, this spirit was the most terrifying Randall had experienced. Partly it was because he was not in The Bridge, with its horror movie safety, but also because it felt cold and empty; a void which desired to suck everything around it in, rather than projecting any sense of personality outwards.

Randall tried to tell him off... but the words just wouldn't come. He could only feel a creeping dread that something terrible was about to happen.

"Perform the experiment," growled the voice of inky darkness. "Fulfill your purpose."

Before Randall could even ask what to do, he felt Virgil's hand grab the back of his skull. Within moments, he knew what he had to do -- based on remembering more about biology he could remember studying in college.

He would get the separated blood sample on the table, separate it, and through a process he didn't remember learning about but whose name he knew, deplete the ATP from one sample, but not the other.

Slowly, Randall walked over to the desk and sat down, a separated sample of blood sitting in its glass tube near where the tiger once stood. He felt like he was disarming a bomb, and would die in the face of one small mistake. But, keeping his love for Nightshade in mind, knowing that he wanted to know the answer, he got to work.

He drew up the plasma, which had floated to the top, and dispensed half of it into a separate test tube. To this he added a syringe of cells which would metabolise the ATP via luciferase and produce light. One shaken up a bit, he put the tube into the incubator under his desk.

"What is the verdict?" asked the spirit of death.

"You'll have to wait twenty minutes," Randall insisted, "then take the sample out. If you think the sample smells less... tasty than the other one, after the colony has grown and used the extracellular ATP in the plasma, then you will know that is what you... taste."

"Very clever," hissed the ethereal voice, much more sinister than Virgil's. "You are to be commended. Now, step away from the bench. You and I can split him."

"Split... me?" Randall repeated with dread.

"As of this moment," stated Virgil, "you know too much about our kind for your own good."

The other spirit's eyes burned more intensely, and though nothing was visible, Randall could feel a breeze sucking into the black void beneath the cloak. It rippled, revealing only impenetrably inky smoke. The cloud expanded, and then started slowly drifting toward the wolf.

But before Randall could back away, the other spirit suddenly stopped, the smoke contained by an invisible pane of glass.

"You will not touch him," stated Nightshade's voice, as the weaker form of the wolf appeared right in front of them, holding out an arm as if he were a superhero using his powers.

It was a sight that made Randall try to rush up and hug him -- but like the original form of Nightshade, he grabbed a mixture of thin fur and cold air.

"I knew you would protect me," he gushed despite missing his hug, "what is he?"

"That," Nightshade stated, without taking his eyes of the subject of his words, "is an eraser. One of our kind who is doing penance by destroying evidence mortal have of our existence. And he is here for you, it seems."

Randall took another look at the other spirit, and felt the despair creeping back in, tarnishing his relief.

"Then you know," Virgil insisted. "that your 'boyfriend' has learned too much, and is now a threat to our kind."

"Untrue!" Nightshade snapped, "he was told too much! By you! Just so you would have a reason to take him away from me, just like you did with Cody!"

Randall felt a chill of horror. That was why Nightshade was so worried about him surviving the mission!

"You have been through so much, my old friend," reprimanded Virgil, voice the gentlest Randall had ever heard it. "I do not blame you for your loss of judgment, or your desire for companionship. But since you drank his blood, your sense of mortals has escaped you, and I must draw the line for the sake of our kind."

Randall was too stunned and terrified to say anything. Terrified both for his life, and that their relationship was now under discussion.

"Do you truly think, if he is allowed to live, that you two will live happily ever after?"

"Yes!" gasped Nightshade, seeming to weaken in strength but not resolve.

Randall wanted to believe that... but as he watched his boyfriend weaken, and the other spirit seem to grow stronger, he found himself unable to imagine the joy it would bring him.

"You old fool. You have seen mortals up close, and know it cannot work. They are energetic, but fickle. They are afraid of death, and will pay any price to save their own skins. They will betray secrets, and even blackmail those they love. They are too restless, too afraid of themselves, too short-sighted to grasp the real meaning of 'eternity' no matter how much they say it."

With such cruel and sweeping words -- words that were seeming to further weaken his boyfriend's shield against his life, Randall tried to fight back. "That's not true!" he insisted. "We only betray those who have betrayed us! We can be loyal, and trustworthy, and... and love! He just doesn't understand how love can transform our hearts! Don't listen to him!"

Nightshade's mouth trembled.

"Please!" whined the wolf weakly, trying to convince him with what little strength he had left. "Don't listen to him! You know me! You trust me! You know he's wrong!"

"Even if he is right," intoned Virgil, "and you stay together and are happy, it will be seventy years at most. And then you will do as you have always done: grieve, and move on. You can do it again. And, for the sake of our entire species, I am asking you to do it again. Right now."

Nightshade hesitated, but finally said, "no... I will not let you take him away from me!"

But any gratitude Randall felt was shattered as Virgil's fist lit up, and punched Nightshade in the back. The shield did not break, but it stunned the canine just long enough for two black tendrils of smoke to spill over.

"Don't I have a say in this!?" demanded Randall.

Seemingly in response to his comment, one of them formed a black ring around his muzzle, and he couldn't open it. When he tried to lift his arms to take it off, the other black tendril wrapped them in a smoky chain. Despite the black smoke being weightless, now his arms felt heavy, and hard to move.

A wave of lethargy swept over Randall. His body felt hot and sweaty. He needed to lie down, but couldn't; he let his legs fall, and he was caught by the husky, as black ring appeared around his neck. It felt like a snake was twisting its way around him, and preparing to squeeze.

Despite being in perfect healthy, he felt ill. Despite being young, he felt like he was dying.

"Remain calm and still," soothed the inky black voice, now containing a note of strange comfort, "and there will be no pain."

The words suddenly reminded Randall of a conversation that seemed like forever ago now:

"Randall... would you be willing to die for me?" Nightshade had asked.

"What kind of question is that?" Randall had asked, a little unnerved.

"I do not know for sure," Nightshade had said, referring to the mission in retrospect, "but there may come a time... when... things become more complicated. And, if worse came to worst... you would have to die."

"I don't want to die," Randall insisted, "but... that's what love means, isn't it?"

The words echoed in his memory. He stopped struggling, his eyes drooping a little. He took one last look at Nightshade, still keeping most of the eraser away from him.

The spiritual canine he loved looked back, but his eyes suddenly flashed red, becoming piercing.

All at once, Randall's mind snapped to a completely different set of words.

"...more than once, I wonder if you will be scared away -- or burn it down for the insurance money. ... First, you need to buy a cigarette lighter."

"What for?"

"You will know if you need it. Call it... insurance."

Now he realized what Nightshade was talking about. There way a way to let him live if he were backed into a corner, but it would jeopardize everything. And it was to use the lighter he bought.

Randall pulled himself to his feet slowly, fear and anger mixed together giving him strength to resist the weights upon him. Virgil, to his surprise, was not corporeal enough to hold him down, being mostly fur and cold air like Nightshade.

Quickly, Randall reached into his pocket, pulled out the lighter, and clicked it on. The black rings touching him suddenly were sucked into the flame, and vanished.

Nightshade with a weak smile, instantly disappeared.

The wall of smoke went towards Randall, but didn't touch him. Instead, it too went into the flame, forming a giant funnel, as pieces of the spirit of death were sucked away.

Randall was now convinced he could banish this spirit -- and save countless other mortals from an early demise. If he were strong enough to use it.

"DIE, FOUL SPIRIT!" he shouted in a mixture of anger and fear, and charged straight at the shadow.

The other spirit simply watched himself be sucked away, until Randall thrust the flame directly into his formless shape. And then, he suddenly ignited, as if his cloak was an oil-soaked rag.

Randall barely managed to pull back in time to avoid getting more than a bit of singed hand fur.

"Free at last..." the eraser moaned. And after an intense three or four seconds of intense light and heat, the fire consumed him. Nothing but wisps of smoke and hot air remained.

Adrenaline pumping through him, Randall turned to the husky, whose face was frozen in the first expression of genuine fear Randall had ever seen from him. For the first time, he felt like he had the upper hand over Virgil.

"Stay away from Nightshade and me," he threatened, "or you're next!"

The husky quickly composed himself, and repeated words that Randall almost expected: "you are now a danger to our kind. Do not underestimate us." And when Randall blinked again, he was gone.

As Randall put the lighter away, he heard the cheetah stir. He quickly helped him up.

"What happened?" asked his tour guide.

"You and Dr. Goddard both just passed out, when he was about to finish up an ATP concentration test," Randall answered, without missing a beat.

"Oh... wow, that was... strange. I had the weirdest dream while I was out... anyway, um, where were we?"

"I just got the culture in incubation. How long does it take again?"

"Oh... I don't know... probably half an hour should be enough? Maybe we should get him checked out," the cheetah suggested.

"Good idea."

"And then... maybe..." Randall suggested, "we could go back to your place for a while?"

"I don't see why not."

Randall smiled, weakly. It would certainly help put what just happened out of his mind... at least, for a while.

***

To be Concluded in Part 4...