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Ripper looked up at the pub sign. The lettering said 'Rose', and that was probably what most people saw in the art- a red rose with two green leaves, simplified by convention. Ripper saw a white five-pointed star on a red circle, a simple pentacle, above a green infinity. The Freehouse called the Rose showed it's true nature plain, to those in the know. A place of magic, unlimited by particular allegiance. In here you could find anyone, and anything could happen.
Giles had been warned off such places all his life.
He'd come to London to find one.
He took a deep breath, resettled his new leather jacket on his shoulders, then pushed the door open and went in.
Inside he got the impression of darkness, smoke, and people, but he didn't notice detail, for as soon as he stepped in one man had caught his eye. A man with a sword has a tendency to get one's full attention.
He was around Ripper's own age, or perhaps slightly older. Tall, blond and muscular, he stood in the one strong bit of sunlight still falling in the bar, and the light bounced off the blade to throw queer reflections through the shadowed room. The mostly golden handle was crusted with coloured stones, a veritable rainbow. It glittered as the wielder swung it through the air in huge arcs that he probably thought of as impressive.
Giles had been first in his class with a sword. He was not impressed.
He walked over casually, to just outside swing range.
"The best part is the runes." The man was explaining happily. "Serious power in there. And the gems are all charged of course. The look of the thing is secondary. But it is a beauty." He swung it in a big arc, narrowly missing the table, and the drinks.
"Mind out, Randall!"
"Relax. I know what I'm doing." Randall grinned, brandishing the sword before him, carefully tilting it to catch the light.
"Then you know that thing would be useless in a fight." Ripper spoke up from behind him.
Randall spun around, sword extended, the steel swinging past in an arc that ended within an inch of Ripper's chest. Ripper didn't even flinch. He'd judged the distance carefully, and pretty much subconsciously, with the ease of long practice. He just looked the swordsman in the eyes, and grinned.
A casual observer might have mistaken that grin for friendly. Someone with more of a feel for people would have backed away. Randall only paused a moment, but a very noticeable moment on a man trying to look hard.
Ripper casually continued. "The hilt would chafe and slip, and probably do more damage to your hand than the other guy could. The balance looks lousy, and I'm willing to bet it's a stainless steel blade."
"So? Easier to look after."
Ripper's expression was eloquent, as if someone had called a Ford superior to a Ferrari on the grounds you could get the parts cheaper.
"It is shinier. Also more brittle. You'll be lucky if it doesn't shatter first time you hit something. Like I said, useless."
Randall looked briefly worried, then glanced down at the blade and grinned. He swung it up to better look at the inscriptions there. "Shows what you know. Doesn't matter what happens when this hits stuff. It's meant for higher things. This is a ritual sword."
"You know what part a sword plays in rituals?" Ripper replied. His carefully common accent slipped as he started using things learned at the academy, and he paused longer than he intended to concentrate on his new persona.
"You walk around the circle with it. You point it at things. It channels power. "
"It represents power, yes. Your power to harm them. Walk the circle and let anything not summoned know what they'd be messing with if they tried to interfere. Point it at a demon to remind it what will happen if it doesn't obey. It is a threat. Meant to be scary. Would you be scared of that?" Ripper nodded towards the gaudy thing in Randall's hand.
He turned it to catch the light and swung it a bit. "It's a whacking great bit of metal with sharp edges. Wouldn't you be?"
Ripper turned away - though never quite turning his back on the other man - and grabbed a chair. Randall's chair. "Hang on, I'm sitting there." Randall corrected him, moving forward vaguely.
Ripper pulled it out, sat down, and slouched comfortably. Then he reached for Randall's beer.
"Oi!" Randall automatically lunged and swung the sword to guard the precious stuff, and Ripper moved. Snake fast he surged up and past him, and somehow when he'd stopped Randall was on the floor and the sword was in Ripper's hand, pointed steadily at the other man's throat,
"That answer your question?" he asked, with a razor grin.
"How'd you do that?" Randall asked.
"You and this sword have something in common- lousy balance. All forward momentum. I helped you along a bit and you'd got nothing left to save yourself."
From the shadows on the other side of the table came a slow clap, clap, clap. Slow enough to be clear mockery.
"Oh, very well done. You've walked into a room full of mages and shown us how muscular you are. Very masterful."
Giles realised with a sinking feeling the other was right. Way to make an impression. He absently lowered the sword as he turned to face the new man, concentrating on keeping his grin in place.
"I'd call it a lesson in practical demonology." Ripper shrugged, and sat down again, leaning the sword up against the table. It was oddly hard to let go of, until he recognised the compulsion it exuded. "And consumer protection. Hope you didn't pay much for this. Brass and glass, with some attraction runes and something on the 'stones' to tart them up."
"What? Nah, I would have noticed..." Randall protested. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed back the blade, twisting it to get a better look.
"Sorry Randall, he's right. Glitter and glamours. All 'Buy me, I'm pretty'."
The other man leaned into the light to tap his fag on the ashtray, and Ripper smirked, since the description seemed to apply just as well to him. Glitter in makeup, glam rock style, and very pretty, if you liked that sort of thing. The man raised dark eyes to meet his gaze and smirked back knowingly.
"Ethan Rayne." He introduced himself, extending a languid hand.
"Ripper." Giles replied, and grasped it firmly.
Then froze there, and sucked in a breath.
The power that hit him was like nothing he'd ever known. Oh he'd been challenged before, certainly. The Academy didn't send its boys out into the world quite blind to this, the mystic sense. And being boys, they'd tested each other, when they were sure of not getting caught. But that clumsy fumbling was nothing compared to this.
Red, and male, and pushing at him. That first thrust coming at him directly, pouring through where their skin touched and into him. Then, on reflex, he brought up his shields, and the nature of the contact changed. Instead of the direct force he'd known before it teased at him, brushed past him, withdrew until he could almost think it wasn't there any more. But still this stranger held his hand, and his gaze. Still there was this power between them. Ripper found himself reaching out, trying to sense the other man more clearly.
Dark, red dark, then a touch like fur against his skin, in places no one should be able to reach. He gasped again, then swallowed hard. There was a taste on his tongue like Turkish Delight, sticky sweet, and somehow promising more. If he'd just drop his shields and let him in...
Feeling he'd been tricked, Ripper's natural inclinations came to the fore, and he pushed back with all the power in him. Now it was Ethan's turn to gasp, and arch, and... welcome Ripper in. Green power spilled into some inner dark, red surrounded, and suddenly Rupert wasn't even sure this was a fight, let alone one he could win. Training told him to pull back and, confused, he did, then rebuilt shields carefully, and stood behind them.
Ethan licked his lips, rolled the taste of Ripper's magic around his mouth, and smiled.
Suddenly he was aware again that they were observed, and that, from the outside, all they'd been doing was sitting there, holding hands and breathing hard. He pulled his hand away. With a brush of fingers across palm, Ethan let him.
"So, Rayne, another conquest?" Randall smirked, a new seat claimed and his beer before him.
"Yeah, right." Ripper snorted, in reflexive denial.
Rayne smiled back at him slowly. "Give it time."