16. Greg
CHAPTER 16
GREG
I woke to the sound of Cal sitting up in bed and breathing like he’d run a race. I propped myself up on my elbow. “Are you okay? Did you have a vision?”
“Yeah,” he said. The room was dark but there was enough light coming through the gap in the curtains for me to see him run his hands over his face.
I sat up as well, my heart in my throat. “Was it the fog monster?”
He shook his head. “I was playing video games with Steve and Felix. Nothing important. Sorry I woke you.”
I slumped, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I reached blindly for my phone on the side table. 4:38am.
Cal said, “I can’t go back to sleep after a vision. I’m gonna go get some work done on the book room.”
He threw back the covers and slid out. I wished there was enough light to see more than a hint of his thick thighs below the hem of his boxers. But then the scent of him, warm and musky, wafted over. I bunched the blanket over my lap. Dammit, I’d jacked off twice yesterday .
But Cal hadn’t suddenly become a neat and tidy person just because I knew why his backpack had been so tattered.
“I’ll come with you,” I said.
He paused, his hand on the zipper of his duffel bag. “You don’t have to. You should sleep.”
“Nah.” I flicked on the lamp on the nightstand between the beds. Damn. I tried not to stare at his sturdy legs dusted with dark hair. “I’d just lie here feeling guilty about you working while I wasn’t.” Trying to keep my back to Cal as much as possible, I walked over to my own bag to pull out some clothes. “Besides, I could really go for some coffee. Someone will make breakfast around 7am, but in the meantime there are probably leftover cookies.”
“Yeah? Those were awesome.” He walked toward the bathroom, his ass cheeks bouncing in his boxers.
I told my dick to behave. Nothing was going to happen, and I didn’t have any privacy to take care of things myself.
We got dressed and snuck downstairs. There weren’t many people in the building, especially at this hour, but I didn’t want anyone to come check on us.
I started the coffee pot and found the stash of yesterday’s cookies. I put our coffee in lidded travel mugs and took the entire container of cookies to the room we’d been working in.
Cal put his hands on his hips and stared at the books we’d gone through yesterday. “Let’s look for the Elf weapon,” he said. “I think we’ve made enough progress that we can get to the shelves on the left side of the room.”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
We put on gloves and masks before going into the book room and pulling out everything we could reach that wasn’t a book or a bookshelf. Then we lined the items up on one of the tables in the workroom.
“I guess if the weapon exists, it’s buried in the rest of the books,” I said.
Cal stripped off his mask and gloves and picked up his coffee. “Dammit,” he sighed.
We’d found two more small vases, a couple of bookends with gryphons on them, a piece of wood that might have once been a table leg, a three-foot tall stone sculpture of a cat, a set of maracas, a crowbar, and a doorstop.
Cal examined our prizes while he ate a cookie. “We’re assuming if this item is in fact an Elven weapon, it will work against the fog monsters. But if the Elves need a weapon against them, that implies the fog monsters are somehow stronger than Elven magic. Or resistant to it.”
I didn’t like the thought of these fog monsters being immune to magic powerful enough to open a portal between worlds.
After finishing his cookie, Cal put his gloves back on, picked up a cloth, and began wiping the dust off one of the vases.
“I’ll get a new stack of books to look at,” I said.
I went next door and started loading up my arm with books. I was just about to head back when Cal shouted, “Shit!” and something clattered to the floor.
I dropped the books and rushed into the workroom. Cal was standing, cloth in hand, staring down at an old-fashioned typewriter sitting on the floor.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Where did that come from?”
Still staring at the typewriter, Cal raised his arm and pointed at the table where the items we’d brought from the book room were laid out .
“The cat,” he said. “It was the cat.”
I walked over to stand beside Cal. The cat sculpture was gone. I didn’t see it in the room anywhere.
“The cat changed into a typewriter?”
Cal nodded. “I swear it did. I picked it up and dusted it off. It had some weird writing on it, like runes, maybe? I touched some of them, and....” He pointed at the typewriter.
I got down on my knees and examined it. Cal knelt next to me, his magic brushing reassuringly against mine.
The typewriter was black, with open space underneath the keys, which were attached to the mechanism that put the letters on the page by individual metal rods. But instead of letters on each key, there were tiny wavy lines or curlicues. Each was different.
I stretched a finger toward the keys. Cal stiffened but didn’t say anything.
Leaning my body away from the typewriter as far as I could, I pressed what should’ve been the G key. The typing mechanism clacked and the paper carrier moved slightly, but that was it.
“Let’s try two keys.” Cal reached out and touched what should’ve been the X.
I kept my finger on the G. “Okay, on three. One, two, three.”
We pressed down simultaneously, both of us shouting and falling back when the typewriter changed into... a toilet seat. A white ceramic toilet seat, complete with lid. It was etched with runes, or whatever the writing was.
Footsteps pounded in the hall, and Edgar, Bettina, and my mom crowded the doorway .
“What happened?” my mom asked, her eyes scanning the room. She frowned at me and Cal. “Why are you on the floor with a toilet seat?”
Edgar nudged her, and they all came into the room. I got to my feet and gave Cal a hand up. The magic hummed happily when we touched, but I ignored it.
“Well? What happened?” Mom demanded.
Cal raised his eyebrows at me.
I gestured at him. “You found it.”
“Coward,” he muttered. Then he said, “Greg and I pulled out all the non-book items we could reach. I started dusting them off. One of them was a cat statue.” He held his hands apart to show how tall it had been.
They all turned their heads this way and that to look for the cat statue.
One side of Cal’s mouth quirked up. I grinned.
“I cleaned the statue off with a cloth, and there were runes or some kind of writing on it. I ran my hand over the writing to see if it was painted on or what. And the statue turned into a typewriter.”
They all stared at Cal, then they looked down at the toilet seat.
“Greg and I hit a couple of the typewriter keys.” He pointed at the toilet seat.
Edgar lifted one hand to his chest. “Bettina,” he said. “Do you think that’s the Elven weapon Karsha told you about?”
She hummed consideringly. “I’m not sure. She didn’t describe it at all. But how can a toilet seat, or a typewriter, or a cat statue be a weapon? ”
“Intent,” Cal said. He pointed at the toilet seat. “We weren’t asking for anything in particular, so it just gave us whatever it wanted. Magic, at least in games like Dungeons & Dragons , requires you to know what you’re asking for when you cast a spell.”
I stepped back and made a sweeping gesture at the toilet seat. “It’s all yours.”
He glanced at me in surprise, and I winked at him. His face went pink, which was adorable.
Shit.
Cal bent over and gingerly picked up the toilet seat by the edges. I kept my eyes on his hands and did not look at his ass even once.
“Okay, I’m going to ask it to transform into a sword. Um.” He looked around. “I’ll just put it on this table here, so it doesn’t chop my hand off.” He set the toilet seat down.
We all crowded around the table.
Cal took a deep breath and said, “Please turn into a sword.” Then he swiped his fingers across several of the etched runes, yanked his hand away, and jumped back.
The toilet seat transformed in an instant. It was a sword—I was guessing three or three and a half feet long including the jeweled hilt—but the sword was stuck blade-first into a big round rock. Or would that be a stone?
We all stared at it.
I said, “Cal, should you try...?” I shrugged helplessly.
He shrugged as well. “It’s worth a shot.” He walked closer.
The angle was awkward, even though Cal was tall. The table was probably three feet off the ground, and then height of the stone and sword meant the hilt was right in Cal’s face.
“Why don’t you stand on a chair?” Mom suggested.
I pulled over a chair from another table and held it steady while Cal climbed up. He held on to the back of the chair with one hand and grasped the hilt of the sword with the other.
“Here goes.” He pulled at the sword, but it did not move. He yanked harder, but that only dragged the stone across the tabletop. He let go of the hilt and looked around. “I guess I’m not the chosen one. Anyone else want to try?”
“We should all try,” said Edgar.
Cal let go and hopped down from the chair. “Greg, help me put this on the ground. It’ll be safer.”
Carefully we lifted the stone off the table and placed it on the floor. Everyone lined up to take turns pulling at the sword, but it remained stubbornly in the stone.
“Should we have everyone in the compound come have a go?” Bettina asked.
“Hang on a minute,” Cal said, rubbing his finger over the hair on his upper lip. I wondered how soft it was.
He pointed at the sword. “It’s obviously trying to tell us something. It could be that the person it wants to wield the sword isn’t here. But it might be saying it doesn’t want to be a sword.”
He walked back to the sword and studied the runes along the flat of the blade. “Please be a gun,” he said. He ran his fingers over a few runes.
The sword changed to some sort of rifle. Its barrel was stuck in the stone .
“Can I try?” Mom asked.
Cal made a be my guest gesture and stepped back.
Mom examined the runes for a moment, then hovered her finger next to them. “Please become an axe.” She swiped her fingers over some runes. Before she straightened up, the gun had transformed into what appeared to be the handle of an axe, but the business end was embedded in the stone.
I put my hands on my hips. “I think Cal is right. It isn’t a weapon or doesn’t want to be a weapon.”
Bettina crouched down and touched the stone. “It’s full of magic, but it feels... unwelcoming.” She dropped her hands and stood up. “Whatever it is, I’m not the person it wants to handle it.”
Mom, never the most patient sort, snapped, “Well, how the hell are we supposed to figure out who it wants if it can’t talk to us?”
We all stared at the object in consternation.
Cal sucked in a breath. “Hah!” he said, striding forward. He put his hand next to the axe handle and said, “Please become a laptop computer.” He touched the runes.
The stone and axe handle transformed, becoming a smaller stone sculpture of an open laptop. I couldn’t stop a bark of laughter.
“Okay, no electronics,” Cal said. “It was worth a shot.”
“Ouija board,” Bettina suggested.
Cal pointed at her. “Good idea!” He turned back to the stone laptop. Bending over, he said, “Please become a Ouija board.” He ran his fingers over some runes .
The stone transformed again, this time becoming a rectangular piece of granite etched with the letters of the alphabet, the numbers one through nine plus zero, along with Yes , No , and Goodbye .
“There’s no planchette,” Mom pointed out.
Cal said to the Ouija board, “Can you understand me?”
The Yes sparkled with magic. Almost everyone in the room gasped.
Cal glanced at me, then back to the board. “Um, how would you like us to address you?”
The sparkles spelled out M-S-J-A-C-K-S-O-N .
Cal and I, being from Bent Oak where 80s music ruled the airwaves, were the only ones who laughed.
Smiling, Cal asked, “Thank you, Ms. Jackson. Um, are you a weapon?”
The entire board sparkled.
Bettina piped up. “Ms. Jackson, are you what Karsha was talking about when she told me there was an Elven weapon in the book room?”
Yes sparkled.
Cal nodded thanks at Bettina.
The board spelled out, I-L-I-K-E-D-K-A-R-S-H-A .
Bettina smiled. “Me too. I miss her.”
Yes sparkled.
Cal asked, “Ms. Jackson, are you waiting for a certain person to, er, wield you? ”
The entire board sparkled.
“Um, does that mean you don’t know?”
Yes sparkled.
“Crap,” I muttered. Cal grunted an agreement.
He said, “Just so we’re clear, you’re not sure if you’re a weapon or not?”
Yes sparkled.
“Ms. Jackson, there are some creatures killing Wonders, and they can create fog or turn into fog. Do you know what kind of creatures they are?”
No sparkled, and we all let out disappointed breaths.
“Um, thanks for telling us. Greg and I are only here for the rest of the day. Do you want to keep hanging out here at TWIST, or do you want to be taken somewhere?” Cal made a face, probably regretting not phrasing that as a yes or no question.
The sparkles spelled out L-E-A-V-E .
“Okay, where do you want to go?”
The entire board sparkled.
Cal shrugged. “Would you like to go back to Bent Oak with me and Greg?”
Yes flashed.
“Okay,” I said. “No problem.”
Ms. Jackson flashed E-S-C-A-P-A-D-E, and I laughed. “Exactly. We’ll focus on going through the rest of the books, and this evening Cal and I will head back to Bent Oak with you, Ms. Jackson. Wait.” I held up a hand. “What pronouns do you prefer? ”
The sparkles spelled out T-H-E-Y-T-H-E-M .
“Got it, thank you.”
Cal asked Ms. Jackson if he could move them to the tabletop, and Edgar took the other side of the stone board to lift it.
Mom touched my arm. “Come help me make breakfast,” she said. It wasn’t a request.
I told the others where we were going, then I followed Mom to the kitchen.
“You can make the biscuits,” Mom told me.
“You may have to remind me of the recipe,” I said. I washed my hands and pulled out a giant mixing bowl I remembered from my childhood.
Mom turned the oven on for the biscuits, then she put the large cast iron skillet on the stovetop and dumped an entire package of bacon in it.
She still kept butter in the freezer specifically for making biscuits. I grated it, then busied myself measuring and mixing the other ingredients while I waited for her opening salvo.
“I like Cal,” she said, starting off with a softball. My guard went up even higher.
“I do too.” I was slightly surprised to find that to be true. Cal was bristly and defensive, but he was also smart and funny, and he didn’t hesitate to jump into danger to help people.
“I’m guessing that connection you have didn’t happen in a romantic way.”
I snorted. “No, Mom, we haven’t had sex. I met him on Monday.” I dumped the dough out onto the flour-covered countertop .
She glanced over at me with her eyebrows up. “What are you waiting for? Your connection won’t go away, and his magic is crazy strong. You’re foolish to not take advantage of the power boost. Both of you are.”
I flattened the dough with my hands as I tried to decide how to respond. Finally I said, “Certain aspects of Cal trigger my anxiety.”
“Like what?” She whirled, pointing her grease-covered tongs at me. “Gregory Martin Shaw, do not tell me you have an issue with his weight!”
I was so stunned at her accusation I couldn’t form words for a moment. “You know better than that! I have no problem with his weight.” I felt my face heating up. I definitely liked Cal’s body. “Look, I’m not really comfortable talking about this with you.”
She pointed her tongs at me again. “Okay, but are you talking with anyone about this?” She narrowed her eyes at my expression. “That’s a no. Look, you don’t need to go into specifics, but walk me through what the general issue is. Is it you? Are you scared to get in a relationship? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you after all those pretty-boy ding dongs you’ve dated over the years.”
I blinked. “Ding dongs?” I shook my head. “No, that’s not it, Mom. He... certain things he does set off my anxiety.”
She scowled. “Like what? Does he not respect your boundaries or something?”
I held up a hand. “No, nothing like that. He’s... messy. Like, doesn’t pick up after himself and doesn’t take care of his things.” But his backpack’s formerly ratty condition was due to its age, not to Cal forgetting to take care of it. Though his truck was still covered in trash .
Mom poked at the bacon. She said, “Have you told him that these things set your anxiety off?”
“No.”
I was looking at the biscuits I was putting on the baking sheet, but I could feel the eye roll she aimed at me.
“If you told him, Greg, you might find that he’d be willing to make changes. Nothing you mentioned was a personality trait. If he knows it upsets you, he might be willing to pick up after himself or whatever. But if you don’t tell him, then you’re willfully missing out on what could be the strongest bond I’ve ever seen.”
I put the biscuits in the oven with a frown. “I’ll think about it.”
Mom smiled triumphantly. “And then the two of you can move back to TWIST and take over running it so I can retire.”
I gaped at her in horror. “Mom, you know how hard it is for me to even visit. There’s no way I can move back.” I waved a hand in the direction of the book room. “And, even if I was willing to sell my share of the pet resort to Craig, Cal is a partner in a software company. He’s not going to just give that up.”
She slumped, running the tongs through the sizzling bacon dejectedly. “Greg, you know your brother isn’t built to be an administrator. I had hopes that Caroline would feel a pull to come back, but obviously not.” She stared at me with pleading eyes. “I’m sixty-seven years old. Max might still be considered a kid at this age, but I’m just a human magic-carrier. I’m not even bonded anymore, so I don’t have many decades left.” She looked down at the frying pan. “I’m ready to retire, but I can’t just abandon all the Wonders who need a sanctuary. ”
I took the tongs out of her hand and set them aside, then I pulled her into a hug. “I need to deal with these fog monster things, but as soon as that’s done, I’ll help you find someone to take over. I promise.”