Chapter 4 #2
“It’s okay,” I assure him, leaning in and lowering my voice.
“I appreciate you even if you’re unable to access your power.
You’re powerless. Power. Less. Power less .
And your society would judge you for that, making you an outcast, unable to ever be seen or treated as an equal, contributing member of the community.
Don’t worry.” I wink. “It’ll be our secret.
And how lucky are you, that your teammates—friends!
—support you and cover for you so you can keep this secret and continue the work you love so much!
” Tears prick my eyes. They’re all such good people.
I sweep my arms wide, smacking David in the chest. He grunts.
“All of you, so kind and generous. I will aid you in this most noble venture. We will protect David and his secret and ensure that the evil specter of societal expectation is unable to cast him down. We will dedicate our lives to this task, and when at last we all breathe our final breaths, we will know that our existence has not been in vain, for we will have allowed a brave and special man to live the life he deserved.”
Silence. I look around, but they all seem to have been stunned by my eloquence and generosity of spirit. I smile at them all—my new comrades, with whom I will dedicate my life to such noble purpose.
I frown. What was it, again?
“I… what?” David asks.
David! Yes, David is the noble purpose.
“I don’t even know,” Andrew says.
“You should have let me record,” Elinor scolds. “Then we could have played it back and maybe worked it out.”
“Sam,” Lily says patiently. “David’s sorcery works perfectly well. It’s just not the kind of sorcery that can get rid of the alcohol in your bloodstream. You’d need a different kind of sorcerer for that.”
I frown. “You mean… we don’t have to dedicate our lives to supporting David in all things?” I sound super disappointed, even to me, and so I hasten to add, “Yay! So great! Because we want all the good things for you, David. Hooray!”
David coughs. “Uh, thanks, Sam. I appreciate that. And also your willingness to devote your life to me. That wasn’t at all weird and disturbing.”
I beam at him, because obviously he gets me and we’re going to be the absolute best of friends. Then what Lily said sinks in a little further.
“Wait… you mean not all sorcerers can do the same things?”
Glances are exchanged. “Did nobody teach you about this?”
I shrug. “Like, not officially. I read a lot online, and my teammates mostly answer questions. But I didn’t want to ask anything that might seem rude, so…” I shrug again. It’s such a nice motion. It feels so good, loosens up my shoulders, so I keep doing it.
A large pair of hands clamp on my shoulders, holding them down.
“Andrew, get him some coffee and cake and anything the kitchen staff can recommend to sober him up faster.” The dark, gravelly voice even sounds demonic, or at least the way I expected demons to sound before I realized they were just some random species and not the minions of evil.
The first demon I met—well, knowingly met—was the then-receptionist at CSG, a really sweet young woman with a gentle, lilting voice. It was kind of a letdown.
I tip my head waaaaaaay back until it smacks into Gideon’s chest and I’m staring up at the underside of his chin. Nobody should look sexy from this angle, damn it.
“Hey, Gid?”
Lily stops speaking midword and gasps. I tilt my head so I can see her. “Are you okay, Lil?”
Her mouth works, but no words come out.
“She’s fine,” Elinor assures me. “A bit of dust stuck in her throat. Uh, Sam, Gideon prefers not to have his name shortened. So… don’t call him Gid. Ever. But maybe especially when he has his hands on you.”
I cackle. “Oooh, I’d like him to have his hands all over me.”
His hands are gone so fast, I don’t have time to correct the angle I was leaning at, and the chair topples. Once again, I am sprawled on the floor, looking up at the faces of my new teammates.
Because I have to join this team. They need me.
“You need me,” I declare.
Andrew comes back in just in time to hear me. “Do we? I’m inclined to agree, but please, tell us why. Also, why are you on the floor?”
“Gid let me go and I fell. I have to train him so he’s always there to catch me.”
Andrew blinks. “You call him Gid? I’m not surprised he let you fall.”
Groaning, I roll onto my side and then get up on my knees. “Does that mean you don’t want me to call you Andy?”
His eyes widen in what could be horror, but I prefer to think is awed delight that someone is finally willing to bond with him this way. They should all have nicknames, really. It’s how we’ll show the world our affection for each other.
He swallows hard and looks at the others. I don’t know what he sees, but when he comes over and holds out a hand to help me up, he says, “Can we negotiate on that?”
I dust off my knees and think about it. “Negotiate how?”
“I bring you cake, and you call me Andrew.”
Ooooh.
“How much cake?” My gaze wanders to the door he came in through. “Weren’t you supposed to be getting me cake? Where is it? If I can’t depend on you to bring it now, how do I know you’ll be able to keep up your end of the deal later?”
“It’s coming; the kitchen’s plating it up. And it could be cake daily. Every day. Whatever cake you like.”
Now, that’s an offer!
“Let me discuss it with my advisors,” I say grandly, then turn to David and yank him closer by his shirtfront. He’s not ready for it, and our heads collide.
“Owwwww!” I howl. “What the fuck? Dave, how could you?”
He rubs his forehead. “That was all on you, buddy. Was there something you wanted before you tried to permanently lower our intelligence?”
Rubbing my head where it feels like it came into contact with a brick, I pout. “It huuuuurts. Someone make it better.” I glare pointedly at the only sorcerer in the group, but he shakes his head.
“Sorry. My sorcery doesn’t work that way, remember? I can’t even fix my own headache right now.”
“Your sorcery sucks.” What’s the point of having sorcery if you can’t use it to get rid of a headache?
“Before we get distracted again,” Gideon interjects, “let’s determine a game plan. There’s cake coming, right?” He looks at Andrew, who nods.
“Cake, coffee, and something the chef guarantees will help him sober up but that I wasn’t allowed to ask any questions about.”
My eyes go wide. “What? Are you trying to poison me? I thought we were besties! We were going to band together against the whole community! How could you forsake me like this?” Two fat tears trickle down my cheeks.
“Oh, hell,” Elinor mutters. “Alistair never mentioned this.”
“Alistair probably never got him this damn drunk,” Lily counters.
“Sure he did!” I chirp, suddenly more cheerful. “But not on brew. We went out for my birthday a couple years ago and he bought me a few shots of absinthe. I don’t even remember the rest of the night, but it must have been a great party, because I woke up with glitter all over me!”
“Glitter.” Gideon’s tone is flat. “You measure how good a night out is by the amount of glitter .”
I blink. “Of course.” Somewhere in the cloudy recesses of my mind, part of me is shouting about what a fucking pain it was to get rid of all that glitter and how the absinthe hangover lasted for days, but I blithely ignore it. Because glitter is awesome!
“We should go find some glitter!”
The door to the dining room opens, and our server wheels in a trolley covered in plates of cake, coffee cups, and a tall glass filled with a gently steaming glowing purple liquid.
“Ooohhh….” I forget the glitter when I see the glowing purple drink. “What’s that ?”
“Your cure,” Andrew informs me. “I don’t know that you’ll want to drink it, though.” He eyes it doubtfully.
“Are you kidding?! It’s purple and glows ! The only thing that could make it better would be glitter!”
Our server shoots me a disbelieving glance. “I guess I could try to find some…”
“No!” Gideon insists. Man, he’s bossy. I forgot how bossy he is. I didn’t mind it so much when we were in bed. “No glitter. What’s in that thing?”
The server shrugs. “No idea. It’s the chef’s secret recipe.”
“Have you ever seen him drink it?”
Oooh. That’s a very important thing to ask. Good thing Gideon’s watching my back! I settle into a chair to watch avidly as Gideon prepares to protect me from my doom.
“Carry on,” I say grandly with a sweep of the arm. “I am now prepared to witness your brave intercession between me and my doom.”
All eyes are on me.
“Seriously,” Andrew asks, “ how does he manage to say these words while this drunk? Shouldn’t there be a rule or something?”
What a great idea! I nod eagerly. “There is!” I declare. “It’s called Sam’s Amazing Not-Sober Rule. No, wait. That name sucks. The name is still in development. But the rule is, when you’re drunk, you always sound super smart!”
“Only to yourself,” David says dryly as he helps our server pass around cake and coffee. The cake looks amazing—some kind of triple-layer chocolate and vanilla thing with a ton of frosting and decorated with marshmallows. How could anyone go wrong with that?
I busy myself shoveling in the first forkful, and holy fuck, it’s so amazingly good. Two more forkfuls follow rapidly, and it’s not long until I’m scraping the plate clean.
Someone shoves a cup of coffee under my nose— rude —and I take a long sip. It’s the perfect cap to the meal.
Or so I think.
No sooner has my coffee been removed than the purple drink appears. It’s still glowing, still steaming, but the glass isn’t hot.
“Go ahead and drink it,” Gideon orders. “The chef said it’s safe for humans.”
“Yay!” I snatch up the glass and bring it to my mouth. The liquid smells like candy and flowers with a slightly spicy undertone. It smells delicious . I take that first cautious sip, realize it tastes just as good as it smells, and gulp the rest down.
About halfway through, my head spins and my eyelids droop. They’re so heavy.
“What’s this stuff supposed to do, anyway?” someone asks.
Gideon’s gruff voice replies, “Knock him—”