Sumage Solution GL Carriger

by G. L. Carriger

  The judge practically panted in anger. Surges rarely had their will thwarted when power was in play. “You useless piece of sewage. Your daddy should have put you down like a dog the moment he realized what you were.”

  Rassolnik cast again. This time, he shifted quintessence into matter. A hail of glass shards flew at Max and Bryan. Max reached to Place them, to turn them to some other form of quintessence before they could slice him and his wolf into ribbons.

  But once again, he didn’t need to. An invisible barrier formed around them both, similar to the enchanted barrier around the house. The glass fractured against it into powder and evaporated with a whomp, back to static quintessence.

  Too weird.

  The judge was staring at them, goggle-eyed. “How? I’ve never seen a Placer work like that before.”

  “That’s because—” Max started to say it even as he came to the realization of his new reality. He snapped his mouth shut. If he said it, it’d be out there. Truth unwanted. No way to take it back.

  He also knew Bryan had likely guessed already. Had held his tongue, because that’s what he was best at.

  Max succumbed to the horror of it all at once. He stumbled under the certainty that in growing up and breaking free, becoming as much of a disappointment as he could, he’d somehow turned into exactly what everyone wanted. His own nightmare.

  Max turned and fled from the room without further comment.

  The wolf stuck close to his side, as if they were one unit. Bryan was there to touch as they crossed the enchantment, back out into the yard. Quick tingles and a little nausea. Easier than it should be for anyone, let alone a sumage and a werewolf. Except we aren’t either anymore. Or we’re both and yet more. Or less.

  “Wait!” yelled the judge from where he had stopped at the threshold, the invisible barrier trapping him inside. “You can’t just leave me here!”

  Max turned. “Why not? You’re getting what you want. The codex is in there, with you.”

  “But how do I get out?”

  “Ah, so you know the enchantment works both ways?”

  “Of course I do! I was the second Surge involved in its formation!”

  “Were you, now?”

  Next to him, Bryan shifted back to human form, the brief moment of pain on his face quickly hidden. Max adored how unselfconscious he was about his nudity. But then again, if you look like that naked, why not flaunt it?

  “I could kill him for you,” suggested the werewolf casually.

  “Aw, now, honey, I know that’s not your style. You’re not a murderer.”

  “Tell that to the deer I ate last night.”

  “Really? Raw? Yech.”

  “So says the man who scarfed down carpaccio on our last date.”

  “Point taken. Still, no killing judges, baby.”

  Bryan grinned and crossed his arms. “Fine. I could get Judd or Kevin to kill him.”

  “Aw, you say the nicest things.” Max was wondering what to do at this juncture.

  “Pack’s here for ya.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “Takeout?” Bryan played happily along.

  “Thai or Vietnamese?”

  “Ooo, I could murder a bánh mì.”

  “Right, murder sandwiches first, murder judges later.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Bryan grabbed Max’s hand in what was likely a show of solidarity, but which felt like a disgustingly romantic gesture, and a noose around Max’s neck.

  * * *

  There was something wrong with his mate.

  Well, something more than normally wrong.

  They’d left the judge to stew, trapped inside the enchantment with an irradiated codex. Since his Surge powers still worked, no doubt he would simply destroy the thing. Presuming that didn’t release more radiation. Either way, staying alive was now his problem.

  “I suppose we’ll have to get a Geiger counter in there before we can move in.” Biff tried to keep the mood light as they ate their sandwiches. Funny how light now included conversations about Geiger counters. How’d my relationship get so complicated so quickly?

  “Bet that’s not standard in rental agreements,” Max quipped back readily enough.

  At least he’s not gone quiet.

  Nevertheless, it was clear his lover was thinking unpleasant thoughts.

  Biff cleaned up the mess from their sandwiches and washed his hands. Max remained seated on the tiny couch, brow furrowed.

  “You’re thinking so hard, it hurts my head.” Biff put the kettle on a burner and came back to sit.

  “What happened in there, Muscles?”

  “You dragged me inside this enchantment, with a judge, and a codex, and…”

  “No, you dope, I followed that part. I mean what happened with us, and quintessence, and those Surges he cast at us? I certainly didn’t Place those hits. It was something totally different. It felt easy and comfortable.”

  Biff bit his lip. He didn’t want to say what he believed. He was terrified of Max’s reaction.

  Max glared. “Of course. You clam up.”

  Biff lied. He didn’t want to, but he did. “Maybe it’s something about my savage healing and your latent mage abilities. They seem to jibe.”

  “Jibe? Jibe! What the fuck, Bryan, like they’re partying down together? You saying they like each other? What kind of magic-woo bullshit are you spouting?”

  “You got a better explanation?” Oh please, don’t figure it out. Oh please, give me a little more time with you.

  Max winced and Biff pretended not to notice.

  “No. But I got a feeling there’s some internet research in my future.”

  Biff made his voice nice and plaintive. “Could we have sex first?”

  “Oh thank god. Sometimes he has a good idea.”

  * * *

  Max could tell Bryan was intentionally distracting him with sex. But he knew his werewolf well enough now to realize that he did it because he thought Max would be hurt, or sad, or disappointed. Max was all three. But he also wanted to be distracted. Anything not to think about the future. So, he followed his man’s wishes and jumped his bones instead.

  Although that’s a bit of a lie. It wasn’t exactly bone-jumping. He made Bryan lie, still as he could, naked and whimpering under his touch. He pressed him softly into the mattress, face down, Bryan burying his head in the pillows. Max explored all those glorious muscles with his lips and his hands. He trailed slicked fingertips down and inside, slow and gentle. He opened Bryan up with careful hope, the last he had to give. He slid up, against, and in, keeping everything smooth and sure and…final.

  Neither of them spoke. Because both of them knew that what Max refused to accept would drive them apart. So, Max drove instead into his lover, his werewolf, his familiar, in an effort to deny, for a little longer, that he was exactly what his father had made him. Max would rather be lonely than powerful. Max would rather be sumage than Magistar.

  So, he fucked Bryan with secret gentleness, no fire, only silk. He leaned to the side on one arm and one leg, not even allowing Bryan the glory of his full weight. Instead, he kept Bryan pinned with movement, rolls and undulations, long deep strokes that wrung him out, perfect and transient. They floated together. Until Bryan’s breath hitched on a cry and he shuddered. Max dropped a soft kiss to one shoulder blade, like a benediction, and crested too. Anointing his lover with sex, and then semen, and then absence.

  Max rolled to his back, lying sticky and satisfied, next to his werewolf but not touching him. Afraid he might split open at the slightest contact, fruit ripe and rotting, too much for his skin to contain.

  An urgent series of texts on Bryan’s phone came as a welcome distraction.

  Bryan shifted and stood, unsteady, to search the pile of clothing he’d left on the doorstep. He stared at the screen, face blank. Then he shut his eyes, nodded to himself.

  “I have to go. Pack needs me.”

  Max was silent. He could
not bear to meet his werewolf’s kind hazel eyes. They would be too full of understanding. Bryan would accept even Max’s rejection, because that too was in his nature.

  After he’d gone, Max lay for a long time. He lay staring up at the ceiling and thinking about all the choices he had not made that led him here. Thinking about what he might have done differently were he some other, stronger, happier man. Wondering whether free will was as much a fantasy as love with a werewolf. But he was himself, and so he must Place even this future away, dissipate it into nothingness. Because of his past.

  * * *

  Biff was grateful, for the first time since they started dating, to leave Max behind. He was less grateful for leaving him in silence. For once, all the things he’d not said weighed him down. Although, to be fair, the things Max hadn’t said were worse. For all Max’s loving touches and tender need, the quiet had burdened them both. Each of them knew, or guessed, and neither understood except that everything was different now, and Max refused to accept change not of his own making.

  Biff waited for his motorcycle to warm up and glanced back down at the string of distressed texts from his brother.

  Manifest Destiny had returned to town.

  He pocketed his phone, mounted his bike, and split the Friday-night traffic back into the city.

  By the time he pulled up, the rest of the pack was already there.

  Biff climbed up the stairs to the front door without much interest, most of him still buzzing with the absence of Max. He felt spaced-out, floating and lost.

  He opened the door to find his pack assembled in a stilted state of awkward shock. The apartment that had been their home for a month now felt different. They had been, if not comfortable, at least familiar (ironic use of that word) with the space. Now it was entirely not theirs, some other creature’s den.

  “Oh, good. Biff, this is our hostess, Manifest Destiny.” Alec’s eyes were warm and grateful but his tone was cautious, and he smelled stressed.

  Biff approached with the intent of being charming. He was good at conveying welcome without words. One of his Beta skills. But then he caught a whiff of the drag queen in question and his mouth fell open and stayed that way.

  Manifest Destiny smelled like something old and wild – an ancient artifact of immense power. She was also the most beautiful thing Biff had ever seen. Slender, leggy, probably about five feet tall but wearing impressive platform pumps. She had on opaque nylons, a leather schoolgirl skirt, a dark turtleneck top, and expensive-looking silver jewelry. Her long black hair was caught to one side in a messy braid, and her impeccable makeup managed to look both effortless and yet hint at geisha. No one should look so perfect just arriving from the airport.

  “Uh, hello.” Biff stumbled over the words. Trying to process. There was something otherworldly about her. He sniffed again and resisted the urge to show his throat. Shifter of some kind? Old One, perhaps?

  He made an educated guess based on ethnicity and size. “Madame Kitsune?”

  A tinkling laugh – she looked to Alec. “You said he had the best nose of the pack.” She turned back to Biff. He basked under her regard. “Usually, I prefer Mistress, but I don’t think you swing my direction.” She gave Lovejoy a sideways look. The werewolf might be in human form, but his proverbial tongue was hanging out. Biff idly wondered how Lovejoy felt about dominance. Or cock, for that matter. He’d no doubt Manifest Destiny wielded both with wicked skill.

  The kitsune evaluated Biff up and down. “Aren’t you handsome?” She sniffed. “And don’t you smell weird?”

  “I do?” Biff suppressed an odd spike of shame at disappointing her.

  “Very interesting. Candy coolant with a burnt-sugar core. Come with me, Stud Muffin – we must have us a chat.”

  Biff fought the urge to immediately follow and gave a desperate look to his pack. They all just stared at him in surprise. Although Lovejoy was glaring.

  Alec attempted to mediate while avoiding Alpha confrontation, for there was no doubt Manifest Destiny was an Alpha. “Are you hungry, Ms Destiny? You just arrived back. Should we order food? Pack our belongings? Get out of your hair?”

  Manifest Destiny narrowed her eyes at him. “Let me sort this out first.”

  “Biff needs sorting?” Alec’s voice went hard. He was still Alpha. He would recognize the kitsune’s power but clearly felt no urge to bow or follow her. He’d been polite because they were in her den; now he was defending his pack mate. Biff fairly glowed with pride.

  She snorted. “I’ll be gentle, Alpha. No need to bristle. You just stay here, boys. Biff, is it? Come.”

  Alec nodded at him that it was okay, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  Lacking any other recourse, Biff followed her obediently back out the front door. He left his helmet behind.

  She strolled down the sidewalk as if it were a Paris runway. Then paused and gestured him forward, linking her arm with his. With Biff in his motorcycle leathers and Manifest Destiny looking like she’d come off a fashion shoot, he thought they must make a striking couple. He found this idea oddly pleasant, which, given his sexual preferences, was out of character. He thought of Max and his heart hurt.

  As soon as they were well out of shifter earshot and assured none of the pack followed, she said, “Your pack knows you’re mated?”

  “Strong term, that.”

  “Well, fine. Your pack knows you’re a Magistar’s familiar?”

  “Ah. Well.”

  “Do you know you’re a Magistar’s familiar?”

  “I’d recently guessed as much.”

  “Not very chatty, are you?” She looked at him out of eyes so dark, they were almost black – fierce, unafraid, immortal eyes.

  “It’s a common complaint.” Biff trembled under that look but felt no need to play nice where Max was concerned. What business is it of hers?

  “Shall we start this again?”

  “If we must.”

  “Hello, my name is Manifest Destiny. At least it is in this time and place. Most of my friends call me Mana. I think, as you’re likely to be one half of the most powerful practicing mages in this area, I should like to be your friend, Bryan Frederiksen.”

  “Okay.”

  The kitsune puffed out a breath. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

  Bryan was still processing the truth of something he’d only guessed, now stated so boldly. Familiar. So, he said instead, “Nine tails? Old One?”

  “Yes and yes. You smelled that, too?”

  “No. It’s more that we just lived in your den for a month and never guessed you were shifter, let alone kitsune. That kind of hiding is learned the hard way.”

  “Ah. Of course. You post-Saturation babies don’t have it beaten into your blood.”

  Biff inclined his head.

  “How long have you been a Magistar’s familiar, werewolf?”

  Biff frowned. “Can’t quite say. An hour or so, I suppose. Though it might have started sooner.”

  Mana seemed to prefer an expression of mild disgust. One that suggested she objected to your face, your fashion choices, and possibly your existence. But for one brief moment her resting bitch face shifted into surprised-gerbil face.

  “You’ve no real idea what’s happened, do you?”

  Biff shrugged, trying not to look as frightened as he felt. “Nope.”

  “Explain.”

  “One moment I’m dating this sumage.”

  “Placer?”

  “Yep. Next moment, I’m all wrapped up in Surges, and enchantments, and shifting both easily.”

  “When you’re touching and in wolf form.”

  “What?”

  “Everything works perfectly with quintessence, so long as your wolf and your mage are physically touching.”

  “Ah.”

  Mana puffed out her cheeks. “You two need field training. I must make some calls.”

  “Uh.”

  “Spit it out, Motor Mouth.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll s
ee me again.”

  “What?”

  “He’d rather die than be a Magistar.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s what everyone wanted him to be.”

  Mana looked at him out of that impossibly beautiful face. “That’s because it’s what everyone wants to be!”

  “Not in this instance.”

  “Look, Beta, this is not exactly my idea of a stellar homecoming. I mean, a pack of hot men in my house is one thing—”

  “I should tell you that our new housing has fallen through too, because of this.”

  “That’s not important. What’s important is that the last thing I want to deal with right now is a reluctant Magistar. A new Magistar can’t be left untended. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go after this sumage of yours. Right now.”

  “All of us?”

  “Yes. All. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need an entire pack.”

  “I should warn you, there’s an enchanted house, irradiated codex, and pissed-off Surge-level judge there as well.”

  “Boy. When you don’t talk, you really don’t talk.”

  “You got leathers?”

  “For every occasion. Do I look like an amateur?”

  “There’s a fender bender that direction – we’d better take the bikes.”

  “I’ve my own crotch rocket, but I didn’t hook her to the trickle charger, so I’ll have to bitch.”

  Biff gave her a look. “I’m sure Lovejoy would love that.”

  Her militant expression softened slightly. “He is a pretty one.”

  “And available.”

  No reaction, but she turned them back toward the apartment and picked up the pace. “Trying to distract me, Beta? You’ve no intention of explaining the judge or the codex or the enchantment or the Magistar, do you?”

  Biff gave her a contemplative look. “Doesn’t nine tails mean wisdom?”

  “But not omniscience.” She whipped out a small burner phone. “Now shut up, you – I’ve a favor to call in.”

  Biff was grateful someone had finally told him to do something he was actually really good at.