Hunter swallowed down a laugh; Morgan felt him do it, the rumble of mirth in his belly rushing up in him, only to be firmly stopped by his harsh, unforgiving mouth. It reached his eyes, though.
Caleb laughed out loud.
"Where's Darius?" Morgan asked. "I bet he'd pole dance."
"He's with the paramedics," Harlequin said.
"Why?"
Hunter looked more closely at him. "Don't you remember?"
Morgan shrugged. How could he remember if he'd forgotten? That made no sense.
"You ran a bolt of lightning through most of the room," Hunter said.
What?
Everything went still while Morgan's mind raced and panic rose. He wanted to brush it away, to enjoy the buzz, the warmth of Hunter's body, the soothing rub of Caleb's thumb over his wrist. But something was shifting, pushing through the fuzzy blanket of lust and magic, screaming to make itself heard. A memory.
You hurt people. Your magic hurt people.
Morgan couldn't frame a question, couldn't think, couldn't remember. He burst into tears: messy, confused tears.
"We really need to get him out of here," said Harlequin. "Damian, can you carry him?"
"Yes." Hunter hugged him. It felt good. Made him feel safe. "C'mon Morgan. It'll be all right."
"What about Darius?" said Caleb, and Morgan had another sudden shot of memory: Darius, twitching and shuddering, power surging through him.
"It went through the floor," Morgan murmured. "Oh God."
"It was a good thing it did," Hunter said. "It meant no-one died."
"They must have a grounding mechanism, I guess," said Caleb. "Makes sense."
Harlequin tossed his car keys to Caleb. "You bring the car around the front. I'll go find Darius."
Morgan phased in and out as Hunter carried him to the car and settled him in the back seat. He ached with magic, and it took all he had to keep it inside. He didn't dare think about what had happened back there, how he'd lost control, how much trouble he was in or how strong and warm Hunter's arms were. He didn't understand any of it. But he did breathe a sigh of relief when he saw Harlequin and Darius walking towards the car. Darius was walking slowly, but he was walking. Morgan had a flash of a memory. Darius surrounded in a deep, blue glow. A shield. Darius was majos too; he must have protected himself.
Harlequin held the passenger door open and Darius got in.
"D-Darius, I-I'm s-sorry." Morgan strained forwards, but the seatbelt kept him firmly tied to the back seat.
"No sweat, honey," Darius said. "I'm fine. I just lost most of an eyebrow and a few pubes. I mean, you could call that a treatment and people would pay for it, right?"
Morgan wondered if he was telling the truth.
Hunter checked Morgan was properly strapped in, then ducked out of the car.
"Aren't you coming home with us?" Morgan said.
"I've got things to deal with here," said Hunter, and then, to Caleb, who was sitting next to Morgan, "Call me, tell me how he gets on, okay?"
"Will you look at that," Caleb said, nastily. "He cares."
"Don't," said Morgan. Caleb made a disgusted sort of noise and stared out of the window. Harlequin started the car and they pulled away.
Morgan watched Hunter until they turned a corner and he was lost to view.
"I don't get it," Morgan said, frowning. "He hates me. Doesn't he?"
Caleb patted his leg. "Just take it easy, mate. Okay?"
Aiyeda appeared with mottled scales, a blend of sickly green and yellowy blue with patches of white.
She proceeded to have a dramatic coughing fit that ended in a long, painful-sounding wheeze.
"So that's Morgan's magic?" Harlequin asked.
"An outward expression of his magic, yes," said Caleb.
"What's wrong?" wailed Morgan. "I don't understand. There was the club and we were having a nice time and then Hunter was there and everything went weird and now Aiyeda's doing … That."
Aiyeda gave another pathetic cough.
"It looks like your magic is sick, Morgan," said Harlequin.
"Yes, but I don't–"
"Shut it, cabrón," said Aiyeda. "Don't you think you've done enough? Now, someone run me a hot bath. And I would like a smoothie made of, ah, let me see…" The little dragon counted off items on her claws, popping each one out as she went. "Jalapeños, the hot kind, not that rubbish you get at the supermarket. Also some peach juice, a lot of ice, a spoonful of sherbet, a banana and a generous measure of vodka. In fact, make that two measures of vodka."
"Will a mashed up peach do?" asked Darius, from the kitchen.
"In a pinch," said Aiyeda, shaking her head sadly. "We must work with what we have, I suppose."
"Morgan doesn't drink," Caleb pointed out.
"Carinyo, Morgan doesn't do the kissy kissy with lots of people at once, or take the stupid drug. We are paddling in uncharted waters. Please, let me work."
"I didn't take drugs," said Morgan, but nobody seemed to be listening. They just patted him or smiled sweetly at him. They were humouring him. Shit.
Darius came back with a tall glass full of pale pink liquid with flecks of red through it. Morgan stared at it in horror. There was no way he was going to drink that. Darius popped a straw in the glass and set it down on the coffee table.
The little dragon hopped over to the drink and sniffed at it. She took the straw delicately between her rubbery little lips and drank it all down.
Everyone in the room held their breath, including Morgan.
Then Morgan hiccupped, at the exact same time that Aiyeda burped out a little plume of greenish smoke.
"Great jalapeños," said Aiyeda. "You went to the market?"
Darius shrugged. "I found some chilli powder in the cupboard."
Aiyeda's eyes narrowed. "You are dead to me."
"Hey," said Caleb. "You're changing colour."
The greenish cast to Aiyeda's scales was getting worse. Morgan was suddenly worried. What if she threw up fire? What if what she'd drunk made him throw up? What if-
Aiyeda burped a lick of flame. "I beg your pardon," she said. "It must be the inferior ingredients."
Then her scales fluttered and changed colour once again, this time to a pretty aquamarine.
"Better," she said, and waddled over to the remote.
Morgan pulled himself together as best he could, and helped her to pick a CBBC channel. He put subtitles on and turned the sound down. She made a big show of peering at the screen to read them, although her eyesight was way better than any of theirs and she could read in six languages.
Morgan felt a little drunk, or at least he supposed he did. What the fuck was wrong with him? He tried to get up but the other three moved in to stop him. Darius fetched him a glass of water. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted in his life, so he asked for more. Darius brought him a jug full, with ice cubes in it.
He felt guilty that Darius was running around after him: after all it was Morgan's fault he had a very unusual style of eyebrow and apparently less body hair than he'd used to. He'd been unconscious for ten minutes. But he seemed unfazed by the whole experience.
"I didn't take any drugs, did I?" Morgan said, because he was desperate for certainties and that seemed like a safe one. But the others looked at him with an assortment of worried frowns.
So much for that idea.
"Our drinks were spiked," Caleb said.
"I would have noticed," said Morgan.
"Hunter found our waiter. The guy said someone paid him to put Essence in our drinks, but he claims not to have known who it was; he just got an envelope with the money, Essence and instructions in it. The way he saw it, he was doing us a favour. Free drugs."
"Moron," muttered Harlequin.
"It was the same as the stuff I had the other night," Caleb said. "Or at least it felt the same. It's pretty amazing."
"Completely fucks with your inhibitions," said Darius.
"Remember that, Mor," said Caleb, with a l
ittle pat to Morgan's arm. "Whatever you did, don't blame yourself. "
And that was when Morgan realised exactly what he had done. The water and Caleb's gentle reassurance sloughed off the last of the Essence high and it all crashed in. He'd gone down to the dungeon. Joined a sex party. He'd had sex with his friends in front of a bunch of strangers. He and Caleb had broken their promise. He remembered coming down Caleb's throat.
"Oh God." Morgan tried to get up again, but the others gently stopped him. Aiyeda shot him a glare over her shoulder.
"It's okay." Caleb rubbed his arm again, soothing.
"I couldn't help it. The relámpago, I mean. I'm so sorry."
Harlequin gripped the other arm, none too gently. "The lightning wasn't your fault. It's the idiot who gave Essence to a majos."
Darius murmured, "And your ex, for going off on one at you when you were high. That was a dick move."
Morgan vaguely recalled Hunter yelling at him. He probably deserved it: he'd behaved like an idiot.
"Are you okay?" Morgan asked Darius. "You didn't seem to… You didn't lose control."
Darius chuckled. "Oh, believe me, honey, I did. I just don't have the firepower you do. I can fling a shield up and charm the pants off a monk, but that's about it. So, no harm done, okay?"
"I'm so sorry," Morgan said.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Caleb insisted.
"I should never have trusted anything about that place. I shouldn't have gone off snooping on my own. I'm such a fucking idiot."
"Hey, stop that," said Caleb. "We all fell for it. If you're an idiot you're in good company."
"I didn't," Harlequin pointed out.
Aiyeda chuckled at something on the TV, and Caleb said, "We all came out of it intact. Nobody got seriously hurt. And we got what we went for."
It didn't make Morgan feel any better, but it was something to cling to, he supposed. "Did you give it to Hunter?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"The police?"
"I still have it. It's all yours, to analyse to your heart's content. You can still impress the constabulary and show you're twice the detective Hunter is. You might even find who made the shit that fucked up your sad, dead bookie."
Is that what all this was about? Morgan was so disorientated he couldn't really remember. He'd just wanted to help. Hadn't he?"
"For what it's worth," said Harlequin, "Hunter was nice to you, when he realised you weren't deliberately trying to hurt anyone. He was worried. I think he really likes you."
"Shame he's a majophobic arsehole," murmured Caleb.
"It doesn't seem to have changed his opinions very much," Harlequin acknowledged. "But it says something that he blamed the magic for what happened. Not Morgan."
Aiyeda ruffled her scales and got to her feet. Credits rolled on the cartoons she'd been watching. "I am ready for my bath now. With fragrant oils, please. Yes?"
Chapter Eighteen
Morgan woke at noon the next day, after a series of repeating dreams in which he ended up blasting lightning at Hunter again and again. Aiyeda was still curled up next to him on the pillow, but her scales were a healthy, gleaming silver-blue.
"Morgan?"
The door was ajar, and Caleb stood on the other side of it. Morgan flushed pink at the memory of the warmth of his mouth, that moment of shared pleasure. If it was shared. Fuck. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and sat up. Aiyeda grumbled a little, but didn't properly wake.
"Come in."
Caleb sidled into the room and put a cup of tea down on Morgan's bedside table. "I'm sorry."
"Why?"
He shook his head.
"Caleb, you can't have known they'd spike our drinks."
"No, but I knew it was risky, I mean, that's why I like that kind of place, for fuck's sake. But it's not your thing. I should have gone on my own."
Aiyeda raised her head and yawned a long, steamy yawn. Morgan petted her scales gently, and she curled up again.
"It's not your fault. You know that normally, I would never… Christ, Caleb, I just, what happened between us…"
Caleb waited, but Morgan just didn't have the words. He tried out a few phrases in his head; 'I had a nice time but…', 'I'm sorry I came in your mouth without asking…' None of it sounded right. Eventually he came up with, "I would never hurt you."
"I take it this is about the sex." Caleb rubbed at a bit of lumpy paint on the door frame.
"Yes."
Caleb sighed.
Aiyeda pointedly shoved her head beneath her tail, covering her ears.
"I'm so sorry," Morgan said, helplessly.
Caleb came and flopped himself down on the bed. "Me too."
"We always said–"
"I know. Can you forgive me?"
"Of course, there's nothing to forgive. I just wish…"
"Wish what? That it had never happened?"
Morgan frowned. "No. No, just that I wish I knew whether it was what you really wanted. If you hadn't been high."
Caleb looked up at him. "Are you serious?"
"Very."
"Sweetheart, who wouldn't want to have sex with you? Look at you."
Morgan squirmed awkwardly, but he did feel flattered. Even if Caleb said things like that all the time, just because he was Caleb, he got the sense that maybe this time he meant it.
"It's not that, at all," Caleb continued. "It was great. But we always said it could ruin our friendship."
Great, huh? Morgan sat up a little straighter. "So…"
"So, has it?"
A chink of hope dawned. "Well. Look at it this way. We've seen each other naked before."
"Often."
"It's probably safe to say that we've seen each other at our worst way before this."
"Definitely. God, that New Year's Eve party, with the strippers and I drank a whole bottle of Baileys, and you–"
Morgan put up a hand. "We swore we'd never mention that again."
Caleb nodded, pale just from the memory.
They fell silent for a few moments, and then Morgan said, "So. Maybe our friendship can survive one drug-lubricated one night stand, yeah?"
Caleb's face was all wobbly like he was about to cry, but his eyes were bright and shining in all their ice-blue magnificence. "Yeah."
"And I'm really sorry I didn't get you off. I'm not usually a selfish lover, I promise."
"Who says you didn't get me off?" Caleb said, with a very naughty smile. And then they both burst out laughing. Aiyeda muttered into her tail.
"Anyway, here it is. What we went for." Caleb held out his hand and uncurled his fingers. A very small plastic bag lay there and, inside it, a purple and green capsule. There was a decoration around the join, a linked chain.
"Essence," said Morgan.
"It looks exactly like the one I took the first time, and I've never seen this design or colouring before, so it's got to be from the same manufacturer. According to Hunter, it's what the waiter said our drinks were spiked with. So I'll leave you to do whatever you need to do, okay?"
"Thanks."
"Unless you want me to stay? In case anything happens?"
"It won't. If it worked just by touching or breathing it they wouldn't have had to spike our drinks."
"I know. I know. Just…"
Morgan shook his head, no. This required magic, and he'd done enough of that in public lately to last him a lifetime.
Caleb squeezed his shoulder. "Don't forget your tea, twink."
Morgan cleared everything off his desk and laid out some equipment from the old wooden chest in his wardrobe. First he covered the desk in a clean, white cloth. If you looked closely, it had threads that shimmered gold running through it, but otherwise it just looked like an ordinary table cloth. On top of this he placed a pewter dish on a tripod and assembled the channelling apparatus: a glass tube, flared at one end and narrowing to a tiny hole at the other, supported on two wooden stands. He sprinkled a trail of dried dandelion petals around the edge
of the cloth and picked up his book. Aiyeda perched on the back of the chair next to the table, watching closely.
Morgan flicked to Chapter Six, Divination, part 12.4, Composition and source of magical materials. There was an ornate, ornamented diagram of a table laid out exactly as his was. First, he popped the Essence tablet in the centre of the dish. He placed his right hand on the centre of the image in the book and held Aiyeda's paw with his left.
"Definis," said Morgan.
Aiyeda repeated the word, and then breathed softly into the channelling apparatus. Morgan watched the shimmering, gold-flecked breath flow through the glass tube to surround the Essence. It lingered there for a moment, wrapping itself around the tablet, seeping inside the break between the two halves of the capsule. Then it flowed back into a small cloud above the dish. Aiyeda leaned forwards and breathed it all back in.
Morgan's fingers tingled where he touched the dragon's paw. She closed her eyes, took in a couple more deep breaths, and then settled back on her haunches.
"All done," she pronounced. "Are you ready?"
Morgan fetched a notepad and pen from the bed and wrote as she spoke.
"Composite materials include: magnesium stearate sorbitol, distilled essence of majos in form encanté: focus inhibition and wellbeing."
"Is that it? No coercion?"
"None, or I would have said so, would I not?"
Well, at least that meant nobody forced him to have sex with anyone. They just forced him not to care.
"And origin? Who made it?"
Aiyeda blinked, her long, whiskery eyelashes brushing her cheek, and said, "It is a flavour familiar to us."
"Great! Do you recognise the signature?"
He stood, pen poised and ready, but she turned her back on him and said, "I am not sure."
"What do you mean?"
"It is not clear."
"Then we can do it agai–"
"No."
Morgan reached out and touched one iridescent wing tip. "Aiyeda. Please."
Her scales flushed a deeper shade of blue, her tail almost black. She looked over her shoulder at him and said, "Dr Rosero, Guapo. You can taste it yourself, I think? If you try?"
Morgan held his hand over the dish and took a long breath in. It had to be a mistake. Michaela would never do something like this. Everything she had taught him, all her advice and encouragement, had been about control. As he breathed in he caught a hint of lavender and the rubbery smell of new tennis balls. It stuck at the back of his throat. Tears welled in his eyes. Not her. Not this.
Hunter and Morgan: Gatecrasher Page 18
