Her entire expression turned serious. “You didn’t kill anyone. They’re calling it a miracle that the earthquake put most of its force out to sea instead of radiating along the coastline . . . but you did a few billion dollars worth of property damage and you managed to divert an entire shipping lane south.”
I let out a breath. Every time I used the Shaky Stick I expected to become some kind of mass murderer. Twice now I’d dodged the bullet. Injuries, property damage, dead vampires. Only . . .
Paine lives.
And Annie B is smart enough to start wondering if maybe I didn’t destroy the thing in the first place.
I felt a sudden start, almost flying out of the bed, but Val put a hand on my chest to settle me down. “I have it, it’s in my drawer, no one but Miranda knows about it.”
I calmed a little.
“She . . .”
“Won’t tell anyone, King Henry. She’s our friend. She took care of it and the knife Poug gave you, they’re yours as soon as you want them.”
“The knife . . . I forgot about it. It wasn’t cracked?”
Val shook her head. “Not that I can tell.”
A knife that can survive that much geo-anima . . .
Because I need even more questions.
More silence.
“What was he like?” Val asked me. “The Curator?”
“Next time I’ll be running.”
“That bad?”
“I was so outclassed, Val. I . . . he toyed with me and I got lucky. That’s it. We weren’t peers at all. He won’t make the same mistake next time.”
“Did you find anything else out about him? Ceinwyn and the Council will want to know,” she reminded me.
That gave me pause. How much should I tell her? Ceinwyn? The Lady? Plutarch?
About Paine? About Meteyos?
“Val . . . what . . .”
She grinned shyly. “I am but a weak pyromancer unable to remember anything of geomancer dealings.”
“Ain’t you tricky.”
“I am. Let’s hope they don’t try to get a mentimancer to scan us, but as long as you give them a decent lie and not the whole truth . . .”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Not my secret to give away, is it?”
“I seem to have started a collection of them.”
“I noticed you still haven’t told me about him.”
“I’m sorry . . . I just . . . need time I think. To process it all.”
She nodded agreement. “Weeks.”
“Months.”
“Maybe years.”
Running out on things to catch each other up on, we stared at each other for a minute. Yup, still not romantic. Just . . . awkward. Well . . . here we where. Alone. In her room. On the bed.
“I know I’m beaten up and ugly.”
“You’re always ugly though.”
“But the Slush is a miracle drug.”
“It is,” she agreed. Had her breathing quickened? Or was I just hoping?
“But I just faced dragons and demons and I don’t even know what to call the Curator . . .”
“You did,” she agreed again, definitely going a little husky in the voice.
And those eyes were twinkling and . . . and . . .
I grabbed her arms and gave a quick twist to pull her over my hip and onto the bed.
“Please understand that I’m not one-hundred percent,” I apologized, looking down into a mischievous Boomworm smile. “It will be weeks before I’m up to fighting weight.”
“I guess I’ll just have to settle in the meantime,” Val whispered.
And finally, after years in the wilderness, I kissed her good and long and all was right with the world.
And we progressed from kissing to . . . many of my prayers being answered despite the fact I will never deserve it. Or her.
I think I realized something was different this time . . . almost right off the bat, but I was just so focused on Val being in my arms, finally again after so long; her lips on mine, her hands on my face, my hands on a hip and a good chunk of Grade-Triple-A booty—that the hints didn’t click.
You’re probably like . . . huh?
That’s okay, you’ll be as surprised as I was.
Cuz out of all the mindfucks I endured the last few days—the Paine Train, Dragon Meta-Yo-Yo, Poug the Not so Dog—this one is tops.
It’s important for you to know before we get further into this bit of sex that I don’t like going deep into the sex. Guys generally don’t when talking with each other. Get laid? Yup. Nice one, doggy? Cowgirl and some missionary. Good? Yeah. Cool.
That’s it.
That’s why I didn’t get deep into Annie B and me. It was sex. What the fuck you want?
My casual grunting and humping with Annie B had no more effect on my personality than a toaster would have, but that night with Val . . . changed my life in more ways than one. Still don’t like getting into the sex but you need to hear it. So let’s find a compromise, let’s have us what I call the Person-Next-Door-View . . . or what Miranda’s snooping ass probably heard with her ear pressed to her wall.
Val: I’ve waited so long for this . . .
Me: Uhuh.
Getting up from the bed.
Clothes coming off.
Hurried kissing.
Me: I’ve missed you.
Val: Uhuh.
Bodies hitting the bed.
Me: Don’t remember that scar . . .
Val: What was that?
Me: Nevermind.
Val: Are you sure you’re up to this?
Me: Don’t I look up for this?
Val: I’m more worried about all the bruises, not that . . . creature . . .
Me: Val, shut up.
Val: Yes, King Henry.
Followed by the gross, wet, sloppy sounds you’d expect, layered in with some grunts and gasps.
Bed squeaking.
Headboard slapping against the wall.
Me: Why do you have your concentration face on?
Val: Just . . . focusing . . . you know . . .
Me: Relax.
Val: Trying too.
A somewhat more puzzled squeaking of the bed and slapping of the headboard.
Me: Why are you clenching your teeth?
Val: Don’t stop.
Me: You didn’t get hurt too, did you?
Val: I’m fine, just keep going.
Some more grunts and gasps.
Me: Is that fucking blood?
Val: Quit making this more difficult that it needs to be, King Henry!
Absolutely no squeaking of the bed or slapping of the headboard.
Me: What . . . the . . . fuck, Val?
Val: Don’t turn this into a thing, please.
Me: The fuck!
Two bodies coming apart, feet thumping on the floor.
Val: Aren’t men usually happy when they find out a girl’s a virgin? I know I’m older and I know you probably didn’t expect—
Me—screaming—but not like a girl no matter what anyone tells you: What the hell are you talking about? How the fuck are you a virgin? What the fuck is going on?
Val . . . quickly, like she wanted this moment of her life to be over with as fast as possible: At first I was always worried I’d hurt someone. Lose control of the Mancy in the moment and just burn the room down. That’s why I was so stand-offish when you pushed during our time at school and I was so embarrassed by why I was holding back that I didn’t want to tell you and . . . then we graduated as Four Years and we were in Ultra classes by the time I felt ready. Only . . . I couldn’t do anything with a younger Intra—that would have been a disaster. I started looking around at our class and I realized that every guy I could be intimate with was taken or one of your friends . . . or you. I knew one of the older Ultras would gossip if I hooked up with them . . . going after one of the younger teachers just seemed wrong. So . . . I just kind of kept it and then it became a thing . . .
Me, totally freaking the fuck out: we’ve had sex bef
ore.
Val: what?
Me: dozens of times before! Hundreds, maybe!
Silence.
Val: should I ask my hymen to be sure or do you think this blood is just from spontaneous rejuvenation?
More silence.
Me: Val . . . I . . .
Val, worried: Are you okay, King Henry?
Me: I think . . . oh fuck me . . . it’s the only thing that makes since, ain’t it? Oh fuck me . . . Isabel . . . she . . . oh fuck me, I’m going to throw up . . .
Val: Isabel what?
Me: made herself look like you . . . that’s why . . .
Val: you were so pushy sometimes! Oh . . .
Me: why I thought you were two different people . . . cuz . . . you were two different people!
The loudest silence of all.
Me: I fucked Isabel Soto . . . hundreds of times . . . against my will . . .
A bathroom door slamming open followed by someone throwing up every piece of food they’ve ever eaten.
[CLICK]
I ended up back on the edge of the bed, in some boxers I’d found next to the bed and not a bit else. I’d wanted out of that room, but . . . it’s bad enough Miranda had likely heard us. I couldn’t take seeing a smug you-deserve-it expression on her face. I’d snap.
Valentine cleaned up the bathroom and herself, joining me a few minutes later in an oversized t-shirt with some dinosaurs on it and some saying about inevitable betrayal. Other than a pair of panties that was it . . . but I hardly noticed the long legs, the way the fabric held her hips and breasts, the collar as it slid down, showing her neck and collarbone. Mind was elsewhere.
She sat on the far side of the bed, pulling up her legs and wrapping her arms around them. Instead of talking she just watched.
I’ve known for a long time Isabel could be whoever she wanted to be. Or whoever you wanted her to be. She’d offered all the time. Marilyn Monroe? J-Lo? When she found out about my love of Marvel Comics, she went around as a perfect copy of Mary Jane Watson for a whole month. Shit . . . after the teachers showed Avatar for our nightly movie Isabel even turned her skin blue, complete with tiger stripping.
It’s in the name, I guess. Facechanger. But the others in our class never showed her skill, not even close. Nizhoni would change her hair color, Yvette gave herself a permanent nose-job, Jason bulked up to gallons of HGH levels. They could change their faces—for a time, at a price in concentration. Only Isabel was the . . . the freak. Only she had the whole body to such insane levels routine. The teachers gave her an extra name tag around her neck, told her to leave it on, we just got used to it.
I always figured some of the guys might have taken her up on the Hollywood offers but it wasn’t my fucking business. So why give a shit? I’d never thought about how far she could have taken it.
I blinked, finally remembering Val was in the room with me.
She smiled. That sarcastic, knowing, confident smile of hers.
“Can I be romantic or what?” I asked.
Val laughed, more for my sake than it being funny. “It did happen to be memorable . . .”
“And we thought things couldn’t get weirder.”
We both descended into nervous laughter.
I gave a shake of my head, trying to concentrate on her and not memories. “We never had sex at the Asylum.”
“Nope.”
“Sorry I . . . messed up the night for you.”
“Don’t apologize for this. This wasn’t you.”
“Yeah . . . not me. Not you. Shit . . .”
Val watched my face track between disbelief and rage. “Figuring this out does explain a lot about our relationship.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Why you thought I was pushy. Why I thought you were two different people and was so confused.”
“Like, bi-polar or split-personality?”
I nodded. “One minute—when we were with people or walking to class or something—we’d be great friends. You’d laugh at my jokes, we’d tease each other. There was something more, something that could be . . . and I thought was being. But . . . it was like there was this wall you wouldn’t cross. If I worked really fucking hard the best I could ever manage was a stolen kiss.”
“And the other me?”
“Isabel pretending to be you? Complete abandon, there, with me, just us and our bodies, and then gone. In a broom-closet, or a empty classroom, or a picked lock into one of the Hep’s bedrooms.”
Val smirked of all things.
I got it really quick. “You can go ahead.”
“No . . . it wouldn’t be fair.”
“Ceinwyn does it all the time.”
“You’re hurting, it wouldn’t be right.”
“I can see you want to.”
Her dark eyes met mine, the lights twinkling like mischievous stars. “You idiot, King Henry.”
“Yeah,” I agreed again. “It’s obvious now.”
“But back then . . .”
“Fifteen-year-old kid getting sex—didn’t look into it much. Just went where you led after awhile, thought you were playing some type of game. I wanted more, wanted to be with you in public, be the boyfriend . . .”
“You were occasionally.”
“Right and we’d be in public and I’d be the public King Henry and you’d be the public Val and then with you we’d go into private and I’d think we’d transition into the private King Henry and the private Val.”
Her turn to nod, head resting on those long legs—which I finally noticed. Wowza. “I’d stop your advance, break it off.”
“I couldn’t understand it.”
“Now we both do.”
“And we understand how insane Isabel is.”
“We knew that after what happened with Heinrich.”
She had a point, but . . . “I thought that was isolated. One time. I felt bad about it and always blamed myself.”
“Now?”
“Now I feel bad about what she made me do to you.”
Val’s face got soft as she watched me, like I’d just said some magic words. “I think I’ll survive the memory of the occasional hand under my skirt or you unbuttoning my shirt.”
“Wasn’t right,” I decided. “Wouldn’t have done that if not for her. I was a lecher as a teenager, and I’m a downright scoundrel today . . . but I ain’t and was never pushy. If she wouldn’t have been around . . . well, I loved public Val, the sex was nice but she was the one I had a connection to, she was my friend. If I’d have known about all you were worried about . . .”
She smirked. “You’d have zipped your pants and never opened them I’m sure.”
“Well . . . there would have been tons of masturbation.”
She laughed, burying her face in her knees. “King Henry, I’ve always been public Valentine. I’m still public Valentine.”
I moved down the bed, pulled her face back up so I could cradle it with my hands, scars on the knuckles, fingers callused. Her skin was so soft in comparison I thought I might cut it just from running fingers to her chin. “That’s the one good thing about this.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
Thumbs found her cheeks. “All this time . . . I thought you were this crazy girl, bi-polar like Mom. Now . . . it’s fucked up, yeah, but . . . the whole time and going forward, you’re my Boomworm, my Val. The coolest girl I’ve ever known . . . the one I spent all that time with laughing and joking and . . . I lusted after those moments with Isabel but . . . the one’s I was scared to death of losing were with you. I’m not good at relationships, but if that’s not . . . I just . . . Val—“
Her hands found my face too, running over yet more scars, more broken geography. “If you don’t shut up and kiss me already and help me finish what we started right here and now . . . then I hope you know I’ll have to light you on fire.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Plus . . . odds are I’ll be as good at this as I am at everything else once I get some practice under my belt .”
>
“ . . . Yeah?”
“Only one way for us to find out . . .”
B
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About the Author
Richard Raley was born and raised in Fresno, California and even still lives there on account of the city being an evil vortex you can’t escape. He grew up on Star Wars, Transformers, Legos, and Everquest—he never escaped them either. The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm is the third novel in The King Henry Tapes; it will not be the last. Keep an eye out for King Henry updates at:
http://richardraley.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/richardraley
[email protected]
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The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm (The King Henry Tapes) Page 39
