Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4 (MxM)

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* THREE MORE MONTHS LATER *

Quinn had fallen asleep alone-well, with Imp-in his bed, pissed off that Air had been called into work at the last minute. They'd had plans. Mundane plans; mundane plans to stay home and share some peace together, and now they were ruined.

As soon as Air had left the lair, the ether descended upon Quinn, showing him fragments of visions of flames, visions of brimstone, visions of pain and fear. Imp had been there every time he came out of it, nuzzling herself against his cheek and trilling insistently.

This time when he came aware, though? Imp was not happy.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he snarled, bleary-eyed as he came around.

The cat hissed and spat, and it was making his already aching head throb even more.

"That is what we need to discuss, prophet," a ragged voice said in Infernal.

Quinn sucked in a breath, brain jolting back online when he realised he was not in his bed anymore. His heart dropped.

Brimstone. Flames. Dirt beneath his fingers. Oppressive heat.

He shoved to his feet and spun around, coming face to face with a nightmare. A monstrous, nine foot tall demon-in the true sense of the word-glared down at him, battle armour smoking and dark emotions swirling around him. A gnarled, clawed hand closed around Quinn's throat and he whined.

"Fuck."

Red eyes narrowed, and the demon leaned in closer.

"Unfortunately, we do not have the time for that now. Although perhaps very soon, it shall happen," the demon growled.

Quinn swallowed against the iron grip on his throat and tried to keep his head. He refused to give in to the fear of finding himself ripped away from home, naked and vulnerable and at the mercy of a demon lord yet again, but the gut reaction was instantaneous. He was powerless to stop it, even though he knew the heady scent of fear would rile them up even more. Quinn fought with himself and gradually beat the panic back down. He realised, as his thoughts cleared, that he wasn't trapped this time. There was something he could do.

Quinn subtly moved his thumb to nudge at the metal of the ring on his forefinger without taking his eyes off the demon's. The ring Fire and Seren and Helena had made and infused with magic for him. He spun it the way they'd rehearsed and felt it spark with magic, but only for a second before it died away again.

Quinn closed his eyes and inwardly cursed, trying again and shoving the panic welling up right back down where it came from. He prayed the take me home spell would work this time.

It didn't.

"Your trinket will not work here, Fate Breaker," another voice said; a voice Quinn recognised this time.

He slid his eyes to the side, registering the other presences he hadn't sensed yet in his focus on what he'd instinctually known was one of the high demon dukes. Which one was anyone's guess, but he hoped he'd live long enough now to find out, at least.

They were inside a cavern with a high ceiling, lit by red torches arranged in a circle around a huge stone table in the centre of the space. Quinn sensed magic all around them, giving him the impression of this being something like the bolt holes Andras often used. A being could not enter here without being invited. The sick feeling of realisation dawned. A being could not leave here without permission, either.

"Lord Flauros?" he croaked out against the hold on his throat, the panic settling down a little.

Flauros sighed wearily.