The illusion of choice.

 

Chaos?  

Power?  

Once again he turned the proposition over in his mind. 

Of course he’d dabbled. He knew he had some ability but Rupert had always been the powerful one. His role had always been to support, to lend his strength when Ripper needed it.  

But then, he thought bitterly, Ripper wasn’t here anymore, was he?  The prick had left; run back home to daddy, to a life that didn’t and couldn’t include any reminder of his recent rebellion.  Especially not a black-magic-dabbling lover who’d spent his formative years living on the streets making a crust by whatever means he could. The bastard hadn’t even spared him a second thought.  That was the part that pissed Ethan off the most; Rupert had just disappeared from their bed in the middle of the night.  

No. If he was truthful with himself what pissed him off the most was that he’d allowed himself to trust, to believe that Rupert was different, that he wasn’t like all the other bastards out there. Ethan had allowed his guard to drop, and despite everything that life had taught him up to that point he had been stupid—naïve—enough to believe that Rupert loved him. 

Now he had a choice. Power could be his for the taking. All he had to do was say ‘yes’. All he had to do was sign his soul, quite literally, over to Janus and begin an apprenticeship that would ultimately lead to power greater than he had ever dreamed. Power that far surpassed Ripper’s. The days of living hand to mouth, of a meagre life spent scraping together an existence with a few simple scams and looking over his shoulder constantly in the hope that the law, or worse, didn’t catch up with him would be over.  

When he thought about it there didn’t seem to be much harm; after all chaos was… fun.  It was not of itself inherently evil, merely mischievous. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth he pictured himself flitting about like a gadfly bringing a little chaos, a little excitement, to people’s otherwise mundane, monotonous lives. All quite harmless really, he told himself for the hundredth time.  

He combed his hands through his hair, settling back into the chair with a sigh before taking a long swallow from his glass, his eyes drifting closed as he allowed the fiery liquid to trickle down his throat, savouring the harsh burn; the very rawness of it a sharp reminder that he was alive. Images played against his eyelids; a mischievous smile, laughing eyes, a strong shapely back with muscles that rippled invitingly, beckoning his hands and mouth to trace the warm, smooth skin as his lover bucked and squirmed beneath his touch. 

A harsh growl escaped him as he leapt to his feet, the tumbler sailing across the room to smash into the far wall; the shattering glass bringing a brief moment of satisfaction. Grabbing up his coat he stormed out the door, slamming it behind him, and made his way down the narrow staircase and onto the street. With his decision made he wove quickly through twists and turns of the darkened alleys to the tattered door of the man who would be his mentor and master for the next five years. He’d had enough of mediocrity, the time had come to excel.