Without Bryan pushing it away, the enchantment rested on them both, inside and against. So far as it was concerned, they became part of the landscape.
Max ignored the tingling of activated energy and looked at it through his seventh sense. He saw it in his head like a tent of amorphous light, particle and energy at the same time. He examined it. To him it appeared iridescent with threads of five colors mixed across it, like oil on a puddle. The dominant one was gray and it reached down, coiling about the judge in the doorway. That was the Surge cast. Then there were webs of blue and green, which netted the spell down, keeping it from drifting away. Those would be the Sluices. Lastly, there were tiny pinpoints of yellow and orange, which sparked all about the ground, tracing over the barren earth, the Siphon power-couplers. They tied the spell not to Place but to time, an infinite loop of supply in a very small dose, keeping the enchantment alive.
It would be easiest, Max felt, to break those pinpoints. Then the enchantment would simply stop working, although it might take a while to fade away. Or he could cut the threads of Sluice and let it drift up into the air like a large soap bubble. Or he could bleed it dry of the bulk of its power, like the Placer he once had been.
It was no onion to peel layer by layer. He need not dismantle each part – any one component was a weak link.
He chose the Surge because it was the root of his father, to be dug up and destroyed, like a rotten tree stump. Because it was connected to the judge, and Max needed Rassolnik to see its destruction.
Max reached forward with his free arm, understanding for the first time why Surges insisted on making movements with their hands. He’d always thought it affected, like Italians talking. But it helped him concentrate when he motioned with his fingers.
When Max the Sumage Placed a spell, he let it hit him and then shifted it, from matter to energy, from energy to matter. He forced quintessence from one state to another. The enchantment was energy, so he thought to Place it into matter, a bucket of slime to land on Rassolnik’s head. Not that he’d ever had that level of control over the outcome.
But it wasn’t necessary.
This time, Bryan was there. This solid, comforting understanding presence. His familiar. In that moment, Max realized how it worked.
He could pull the energy through his wolf, using him like a conduit. Bryan’s savage abilities, his innate shifter nature, would smooth it, converting it back to static quintessence. It would be like purifying water through limestone.
“Are you ready?” he asked his familiar. “I don’t know if it will hurt.”
The wolf snorted. He might as well have said, “I’m a werewolf. I’m used to pain.”
Max reach out and grabbed with his seventh sense, tugging at the swirling gray that only he could see. The wolf tensed under Max’s hand, ears twitching.
A crack reverberated through the headlands and down the cliffs through the streets of Sausalito to the ocean shore. It was a vast shattering noise, like the biggest cracker in all the world splitting asunder. The earth shook, enough to be thought an earthquake in the papers the next morning, but not so much as to make any native Californian flinch.
The enchantment was gone.
Bryan shifted form and collapsed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In Which No One Is Coping
Biff thought he would faint.
But he didn’t.
He thought Max might comfort him.
But he didn’t.
He felt alone, abandoned and powerful.
So. This is what it’s like to be a mage. To change the world around you with intent and will.
It was Alec who rushed over to him. His brother’s arms were sure and warm around him. Alec would take care of everything. His Alpha’s scent in his nose soothed and reassured.
Except Biff wanted it to be rum and burnt sugar, caramel and sweet. And it wasn’t. It was woods and sea, laboratory chemicals and warm fresh fur. Biff wanted the arms to be covered in scars, but they weren’t. They were wiry and strong and unblemished. Biff wanted shards of toffee melting inside him. He wanted…
He wanted and he couldn’t have.
He heard, as if from a distance, Mana confronting a very angry judge.
They spoke of radiation. DURPS would come check the house. Judge Rassolnik thought he’d managed to destroy the codex entirely, but best to be sure. I hope Max gets his phone looked at. I hope Max gets himself looked at. They spoke of prosecution. No, Magistars were not in Rassolnik’s jurisdiction. How did Mana know that? She just did. Would he like to speak to Magistar Ayesha? Oh, he knew that name, did he? Seattle’s most powerful mage. No, he would not? Good.
Biff registered that the judge was leaving.
He registered Lovejoy, Tank, and Kevin hovering close to him, near Alec. Concern radiated off all his pack mates.
And he registered Max, standing apart from it all, still turned toward the house. A house that was now nothing more than an old, abandoned home, unloved, unwelcoming, broken. Max stared at it, pensive and motionless.
Max was always moving, his mouth at the very least. It frightened Biff that he stood so still. When he did move, it was only his gaze. Impossible blue glanced over the pack, skinning them, shifting them into something lesser. The look in his lover’s eyes. It was like watching Max rip out his own heart. Even as Biff’s lay flayed before him.
Biff shook off his pack’s concern, stood, and on shaky legs walked to his mate. His only option was words, and he was so bad at those. Here I am, dependent on my weakest weapon when in greatest need.
He said the only thing he could think of that was strong enough to make this stop. To make Max think.
“I love you.” Biff hurled the truth. A dare. A challenge.
“Go away, Bryan.”
“You could choose it. To be with me. To be a Magistar.”
“I can’t do that to you. And I won’t be that person.
“I don’t think either of us has another option.”
“There is always another option. Opt out. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. God, I’m such a melodramatic asshole. It feels like slavery for both of us. I would be bound to expectations and you would be bound to me forever.”
I already am. You’re my mate, for god’s sake, Biff thought, but what he said was, “That’s bullshit, Max.”
* * *
Max shook his head. Of course Bryan wouldn’t make it easy, and here they were, surrounded by spectators. He glared at the pack, hackles up and radiating concern. And Manifest Destiny. The judge, fortunately, was gone.
He turned back to his lover. “Come along, let’s talk in private and get all adult about this.”
“Oh.” Bryan arched an eyebrow. “You experimenting with maturity?”
“Cute.” Max glared at the others. “We’re going inside for a bit. I promise no damage.”
“Except internal.” Bryan’s tone was cutting.
My, but this werewolf of mine can get bitter. Wait, not my wolf. Gotta stop thinking like that.
“Leave the DOOR OPEN,” said Alec, as if they were teenagers. His tone was all Alpha and his glare was all acid. The words rumbled out, hitting too many notes at once, not human.
Bryan straightened and looked different, obedient. So did all the others, like Alec’s order went directly to the pack’s backbone.
I could grow to hate VOICE command.
They made their way to Max’s garage apartment in silence. The place felt, Max thought, shabby.
Bryan left the door open, as ordered. Unashamed and unconcerned by his nudity.
They stood staring at one another. Arm’s length apart, separated by a whole world.
Bryan sighed, shoulders slumped. “I can’t change your mind and I can’t give you faith in yourself.”
Oddly, Max was crushed. What did I expect? Him to want me enough to fight for me? I wouldn’t let him win.
“You’re just going to walk away?” Max felt like he was dry-heaving out the words.
Bryan charged and slammed up against him, two hundred pounds of beefcake and need and tension. His eyes had gone to yellow but not with lust. He held Max on his toes, pressed to the wall. He forced out words through gritted teeth. “I would stay here with you forever. I would be everything to you. Anything you needed. Lover. Mate. Familiar. Husband. Moral compass. Guide. Conduit. What I would be wouldn’t matter. Because I’d have you.”
Max started to cry. Big, fat, uncontrolled tears like a small, scared little boy. He didn’t try to escape Bryan’s hold or his intensity. He’d earned it. “I’m so sorry. I’m not strong enough. I’m not good enough to take power and still be worthy of love. Of you.”
Bryan’s face contorted and he let Max go.
Weak-limbed and weak-hearted, Max collapsed back and tried to stop his stupid harsh crying.
“No, Max. It’s worse. You aren’t whole.”
Max nodded. Gulping.
Bryan turned and swore. He looked like he wanted to punch something.
Instead, he shifted form, right there in Max’s living room. He became once more a huge mottled cream-colored wolf, made beautiful by conviction. Seconds later, he was out the open door and running into the night.
Max wished he had another self to escape into. He slid down the wall. Reached out a hand to touch the place where his wolf had stood. And hated himself.
* * *
The wolf let himself be released. One last time giving Max what he needed at the expense of his own heart. And then he ran. He ran from that decision, although it had not been his to make.
I can change and heal and fight and none of that works for this. None of that helps. My mate with his fractured skin and me with my fractured heart. He’s accustomed to the pain. I’m not sure how I survive this. Not sure I want to.
As much as Max resisted all of it, every part of Magistar and familiar, it had felt right. The wolf loved the idea of being Max’s familiar. But his opinion on the subject had never been asked.
I’ve waited a lifetime to be his. Without him, I’m adrift.
He ran into the evening fog of the headlands. He ran into a future where there was no Max. No mate. He had no idea why he ran. Perhaps his lupine instincts thought if he ran long enough and far enough, he could escape the pain.
He ran until the breath was harsh in his chest and his tongue lolled. He stopped, far out on the edge of a cliff, and stared at the choppy cold of the Pacific Ocean. He imagined Marvin’s people far beneath the waves, blanketed by watery stillness. It seemed a nice, restful place to be.
But he wasn’t Max. He didn’t think it right to cop out on his life, on his responsibilities. So, because he was a good wolf, a good man, and a good Beta, he turned and trotted back toward the city. Toward his pack.
He used the bicycle side of the Golden Gate Bridge to cross into San Francisco, because he wasn’t sure how pedestrians would react to a massive wolf trying to politely work his way back into civilization.
* * *
Max holed up for the entire weekend. He didn’t leave his apartment – in fact, he barely moved from his bed. It smelled of stale sex and wolf and joy.
When Monday came around, he couldn’t face that, either. Besides, his DURPS coworkers would probably smell the change on him anyway. It’s not like he really needed the money. And he couldn’t face the judge.
So he called in sick.
He called in sick on Tuesday, too.
And Wednesday.
Thursday, he got himself out of bed and tried to get dressed. That didn’t work. So he pulled on his running gear. He forced himself out the front door to run the hills for a while. Which made him think of Bryan changing his form in order to escape the mess Max had made of their relationship. Which made him run harder and faster. Like he was trying to catch up to a wolf days gone.
He kept running, out of the town and onto the trails, up the steepest hills he could find. Resenting the down side as too easy. Throat burning and legs pumping. Until he had to stop and throw up. Although there was nothing in his stomach.
At a loss, he turned around and ran back. Shaking. Stumbling. Miserable.
Friday morning, he called in to DURPS and quit his job.
* * *
Biff made it through the week in a kind of zombie state. It allowed him to ignore the worried looks of his pack and their continued stress over their living situation.
Manifest Destiny let them stay but clearly wasn’t pleased about it. With her at home, Alec and Marvin moved to the office so Colin and Kevin had to bunk down with the rest of the pack in the living room. It was simply too crowded. Lovejoy took on mostly night shifts to get out of the way. Colin spent as many evenings as he could at a friend’s frat house. Which worried everyone, as he really needed to be with pack. Tank and Judd occasionally took to open space in wolf form, sleeping outdoors in fur.
Marvin looked less cheerful than normal.
Alec was tense.
Biff didn’t much care about any of it.
Manifest Destiny said she would look into house-sitting options for them. There had to be someone going away who wouldn’t mind a pack in residence. At least she could guarantee that the place would be kept safe. Biff let her do his job, because he wasn’t motivated to do much of anything. He’d started out a pretty silent guy, but now the most anyone could get out of him was a grunt.
Without Max, nothing smelled right, nothing fit easily. The world was lackluster, and the shape that Biff used to fill in it was skewed and malformed.
The pack seemed to understand this and let him be. They determined which grunts meant yes, which meant no, and that silence meant he didn’t care. Mostly, he didn’t care.
The only one to try getting anything out of him at all was Manifest Destiny.
She trapped him in the kitchen Friday afternoon when, miraculously, no one else was around.
She wasn’t in drag. So, not Manifest Destiny, just Mana. And Biff supposed she was a he at the moment. Without makeup, Mana was still stunning, but in an androgynous way, all high cheekbones and perfect full lips. There was something about him that still telegraphed female, though, even without the trappings. Confused, Biff spoke for the first time in days, voice cracking.
“Do you prefer to be thought of as female or male?”
“It has to be one or the other?”
Biff shrugged.
“The young ones have all sorts of pronouns these days. Nonbinary and flexible. One of those might work.”
Biff narrowed his eyes. “But you seem female. You smell female.”
Mana smiled, a full genuine smile. “Yes. Only with a cock. She is fine.”
“Okay.” If Mana didn’t mind, he’d stick with what his brain and nose told him.
Quiet descended and they puttered about the kitchen together in companionable silence. Mana seemed to be dampening her nature somehow, not so abrasive and commanding. Or perhaps that was coming from him, part of this numbness. Either way, Biff didn’t feel the need to get out of her way, avoid her direct notice. It gave him the ability to pry.
“Would you change, if you could?” Biff asked, curiosity breaking his lethargy.
“There is no answer to that. I self-heal, just like you. So, there is only acceptance and the courage in it. I suppose I should be transgender, under modern parlance. But I like drag queen. It suits me. I like the fabric roughness of drag, and the royalty of queen. It’s a nice change to have the luxury of choosing one’s own semantics, if not one’s own situation. Would you change being gay if you could? Being werewolf?”
Biff considered the nature of courage. He shook his head.
“Being a familiar? Being mated?”
He grunted. Was there enough courage for that?
“You’re depressing everyone, Stud Muffin.”
Grunt.
Mana plopped a blender onto the counter and began tossing cut fruit and spinach leaves into it. “So, go be with your mage.”
Grunt the negative.
“So
what? We all hate being unwanted.”
Grunt the affirmative.
“I love having conversations with you – they’re so absorbing and intellectual.”
Silence.
Mana added juice, protein powder, and plain yoghurt. She blitzed it for a while.
Biff made himself a fresh cup of tea.
Once the sound stopped, the kitsune poured out a glass and offered it to Biff. Biff shook his head, appalled at the very idea.
“No need for a man drinking pu’erh to make such a face. At least this doesn’t taste like a recently excavated peat-bog creature.” Mana leaned against the counter, sipping her green madness. “Explain him to me, handsome. Your Max. Using words. I know English is an imprecise language, but it’s eaten away at all the others and it’s what we tend to use round these parts. Go on, you can do it. Why would that boy give it all up, including you?”
Biff felt the burden of understanding forcing his lips to open. “Max has daddy issues.”
“You think?”
“His was a real piece of work.”
“So was mine. So, no doubt, was yours, or Alec wouldn’t have had to move his pack across the country.”
Biff inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Mana sighed, looking angry and pensive. Well, she always looked angry, so Biff guessed this was her philosophical face.
“Abuse?” she asked, at last.
Biff grunted affirmative.
“Physical and mental?”
Another yes grunt.
“Because of his sumage state or his sexuality?”
Biff looked down. “Both. So cut him some slack.”
“Look, child. I understand you are recently…not straight. We, the weird and the sideways folk, have always walked the line of rejection. It’s what makes us visionaries. We who are pushed away, to the edge, can see beyond the borders of reality. We frighten the privileged with our possibilities.”
Bryan watched the ancient shifter before him struggle to explain a lesson of several lifetimes. “Like quintessence,” he said, trying to understand.
Sumage Solution GL Carriger Page 25
