Only he didn’t sleep. Or even settle. Even as he eased down into the mattress and lay his head back against the pillow, eyes closing, one arm draped around Lane’s waist. His thoughts swirled on the upcoming events, musing to himself that, perhaps, this was the climax to a book -- and not one that had a particularly happy ending. What was it about stories that always had the protagonist come out in the end, no matter the odds?<br/><br/><br/>So he was going to make a deal with the Winter Queen. One that she couldn’t refuse. Fairies loved deals, more than demons did, and both species were bound by their deals. The trick was in the wording, after all. Going in guns blazing - or in this case, with Lane blazing - was only going to start another war.<br/><br/><br/>James waited until Lane’s breath came slow and even, then carefully slid his arm from around her. Dark green eyes flitted down to her resting face, a regretful smile on his face as he moved from the bed and to the floor. He turned briefly, gazing down at her, then leaned down close. Even though it was like scraping the very bottom of the barrel, he reached deep inside his hollow shell and summoned enough magic to whisper a short incantation for a deeper sleep into her ear, its remnants leaving his fingertips and toes throbbing with pain and a dizzying headache forming just behind his eyes.<br/><br/><br/>He slunk off through the dark corridors of his apartment to his makeshift lab, eyes blinking rapidly as he flicked on the light to adjust to the brightness. From there, he moved to the desk that looked like something out of a mad scientist’s lab and just as cluttered. As the time ticked away according to the clock on the wall, James mixed his concoction, donating bits and pieces of hard drudged up incantations that made the potion pop and fizz, the ultimate cliche to the scene where he set up in his alchemist’s lab. Only the last ingredient he hesitated with, because he knew what that would mean for him. Taking the chain around his neck, he looked into the tiny vial caught around his neck half full of dark liquid.<br/><br/><br/>Blood. Not his.<br/><br/><br/>Sighing, he unstoppered it and poured the remnants into the vial that now thrummed with arcane power, the words he uttered summoning enough out of him that he stumbled on his feet, his eyes turning into violet whorls. Then it was done, his potion complete, the liquid thick like blood but black and smelled charred, but dead. Like roadkill.<br/><br/><br/>Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lifted it up, “Bottoms up.” Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried to pour the concoction directly down his throat so that he didn’t have to taste it, but wound up gagging on it anyhow, choking as he swallowed it down.<br/><br/><br/>“Till death do us part, bitch,” he muttered, slamming the vial back into place. Already, he felt the effects curdling his stomach, nauseating him. It would take some time still to take root. Stumbling from the pounding headache that now pierced the front of his head, he slipped back into bed until light filtered in through his window, his eyes closed, yet sleep eluding him as his spell churned.<br/><br/><br/>“Lane,” he finally uttered, turning over on his side. “Time to get up. Discuss what’s going to happen tonight.”