Chapter 2 #5
“Where’s a gym when you need one?” she called out to her two remaining attackers, limping together ahead of her. “I’m all fired up and need something worthwhile to lift.”
I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing, though if I’d truly been a man, I might be cowering. The spots on my lower back still throbbed, but I’d had them for ‘not months’ now, and I let the pain and uncomfortable thoughts fade into my truth: none of this was real.
One of the guys pointed to the side of a building, and I saw the word ‘gym’ carved above the door.
The pit fighter slapped her leg. “Ha, right there. If it’d been a snake, it would’a bit me.”
She waltzed into the gym, leaving a void of personality in her wake.
A square of light-blue cloth with a white sleeping cat sewn in the middle of it fluttered in the breeze.
Now that I thought about it, I’d seen that same flag in Hope’s office and dotted around.
It would make the gym easy to spot a second time.
I wasn’t much of a fitness person, but I could give it a shot.
If it gave me a shred of the pit fighter’s confidence, I’d be over the moon.
I turned to Brody and crossed one arm, resting my elbow in the opposite palm to drum on my cheek.
“Pigs.” I rolled my wrist. “I think one of us can take that more personally than the other.”
Brody’s face fell. “I was surprised. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it’s like up north, but down here in Edinburgh, women are priceless. You’re the only thing keeping the human race alive. And there are so few of you, assuming you can have kids.”
I widened my eyes and jerked my head forward. “Really, that woman threatened to beat you up for giving me value based on my gender, and your response is to ask if I’m ovulating?”
Brody gave the barest of nods and plowed forward. “How about we continue the tour?” He held out his hand. “I want to show you around.”
“I thought I messed up your day?” I said, ignoring his hand.
He smiled. “It’s a different situation now.”
“Great.” I gestured for him to walk ahead of me. “Lead on.”
I found myself seated at a table in the Happy Rooster, the massive pub in the T-shaped building I’d passed before meeting Rowan.
It was about a third full, and we’d snagged a tall table near the door.
The logo of a rooster, dancing with one leg up and the other down, looked rather phallic, hanging above a massive hearth.
I stuffed my fingers over my mouth before I could laugh.
“Ohh, this is cool, you’ll like this.” Brody’s new knowledge of my gender had turned him from a surly teen to an overly excitable one. He pointed at a wall decorated with a lacrosse stick, making an X with a broadsword. “Look at the wall. This side here, with the rivets, is machined from BT.”
His mention of AT and BT had come up multiple times now. I didn’t know what either acronym meant.
“Then the one on that side, see all the little dents?” He pointed to an uneven surface. “It’s hand-pounded by smiths.” I nodded, growing more curious despite myself. “And this third one, that’s too smooth to be natural, is magic-made. That’s what I want to do. Manipulate metal with power.”
“Cool.” I couldn't believe all of this came from my subconscious. The mix of a medieval pub, magic, and a sports bar was spot on. I focused on Brody’s explanation. “Is manipulating metals hard to learn?”
“I’m not a natural,” Brody admitted. “My Majekah isn’t very practical long term.”
“Ma-je-kah?” I asked, separating the syllables, so I got it right.
Brody made a face. “Yeah. Unique magic. Maybe you call it something else.”
I batted my eyes. “Oh, right. Totally. So, what, um, is your Majekah?” I asked, keeping him talking about himself so I wouldn’t have to admit I had no clue what was going on.
Brody’s entire face lit up at my interest. He proceeded to make a glob of sticky olive-green goop on his palm that matched his hair and eyes. “This holds a command. It will manipulate an object to a point.”
He grabbed a metal fork and covered it in his goop. The fork twisted like a corkscrew.
I grinned. Real or not, magic was awesome. “Cool.”
Brody’s smile got wider. He leaned forward. “The command works on a person, too. It doesn’t last long. I’m not a mentalist. I can’t read minds or take over people’s thoughts or force them to do my bidding.”
I blinked rapidly, trying not to lose my friendly smile. That was a thing? People could do that?
“But I can suggest emotions,” Brody continued, not noticing my reaction. “Like make someone itchy or make them want to give me all their money.”
My attempt to keep my face passive utterly failed. I hated it. Big or small, messing with free will was very, very wrong. I backed away from his hands.
He dropped the twisted fork and hunched his shoulders. “Not that I would ever do that. I mean, once my magic wears off and they realize it was me, er, it would be a disaster.”
He’d done exactly that. I’d bet what little I had on it, and I had a feeling he’d do it again if he thought he could get away with it. We studied each other.
“You have amazing eyes,” Brody suddenly said.
I pulled back uncomfortably, my thoughts going the opposite direction while Brody grinned as if his compliment had fixed everything.
“I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” He gestured around, changing the topic. “A lot of social life happens at The Rooster. Not just for trainees, but for officers and laborers, too. Even the Architect has breakfast here sometimes.”
Brody’s explanations continued, but my mind still dwelled on Majekah and the growing list of ways men had made me uncomfortable in my delusions.
Scenarios two and three started with me roaming the countryside.
Although my waking dreams were unique, by the end, they played out the same.
Each time, a man tried to stick something in me: a knife, magic, or their dick.
I’d black out and wake up somewhere new.
It was disconcerting but also made logical sense if viewed as a series of bad dreams. My surgeon was sticking sharp objects in my brain right now, and Miss Q would echo it.
My hands shook, and I quickly clasped them together. Logical. Series of bad dreams. None of it had happened. My fear eased with repetition.
A bead of sweat formed under my sweater from the warm room. It smelled like comfort food and spice. Light instrumental music, which I couldn’t identify, played in the background.
Where was Miss Q getting these details from?
This was scenario four now. A nightmare about job training, maybe.
I still couldn’t tell. Brody hadn’t actually said what a ‘placement’ was yet.
Given, I didn’t have many good experiences with jobs, but they were slightly better than my school days.
If Miss Q was trying to stress me out, I’d be back in high school, right?
“You’re not listening to me!” Brody said, thumping a wooden mug onto the table. “Do you want to be here?”
I winced and ducked my head. I hadn’t been listening to him. A mug of something smelling of pears and vanilla sat in front of me, and I took a sip, needing an excuse to think before I answered. A rich pear cider danced on my taste buds. I let out a contented sigh.
For months, I’d been alone, living on others’ scraps. My few interactions with people did more to destroy my faith in humanity than gave me a genuine connection.
Maybe Miss Q was trying to brainwash me. Ha. My own brain, brainwashing me. But if that was her goal, why was this time different?
In this scenario, nothing terrible had happened yet.
Women seemed to be in charge of this ‘family.’ Since that pit fighter scared the pee out of him, Brody had been polite enough.
Another blue square with a sleeping cat on it caught my attention.
I’d decided it was the family crest. A sleeping cat. How bad could that be?
Maybe Miss Q was tired of fighting. What if this was her peace offering? A pear cider and a fantasy pub so warm my cheeks were rosy. I loved that idea. This didn’t have to be a battle, right? Maybe I needed to be honest with this kid. Perhaps Miss Q was allowing me an opportunity to heal.
Brody still sat waiting for my answer, and I met his angry gaze. “I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t know if I want to be here.” I squeezed my cider. The rough wood mug dug into the pads of my fingers. “I’m waiting for this world to turn on me, like the dragon.”
“That creature was your own magic.” Brody shook his head. “It didn’t turn on you. It wasn’t real. It was a manifestation of your magic, and you needed to accept it.”
I raised an eyebrow, and there it was. Miss Q; fighting for her life.
My magic. The lies my broken brain told me that couldn’t possibly exist. This wasn’t an opportunity to heal.
It was Miss Q’s newest strategy. Maybe if she were extra nice, I’d accept her lies this time.
I swallowed bitterly. I shouldn’t have reached out.
“You’ve no understanding of how lucky you are to be powerful!” Brody said loud enough to draw the attention of a long table in the center filled with men.
Reaching out a hand, I squeezed one of Brody’s tense wrists to quiet him down. “I’m overwhelmed.” I lowered my voice. “I’m sorry I said those things.”
An image of the pit fighter beating me to a pulp for apologizing to a man to soothe his ego flitted into my brain. I bit back a smile.
Brody’s eyes widened in surprise, and he flipped his hand up to rub my skin with his thumb.
I pulled out of his grip, not only worried about his Majekah, but also giving him the wrong impression.