Oh, the voodoo that you do
EYES closed, arms stretched out, Ry appeared to be in a trance as he chanted, “Anhe. Mhatta. Tu Y. Yakat Untzy.”
Before him was a silver bowl filled with various bones, herbs, wood shards, emeralds, and several other items, including a small rolled-up piece of paper. Tikron recognized the incantation and the ingredients immediately and moved fast. He swiped his arm over the altar, sending everything flying. “What the hell are you doing?”
Ry blinked at Tikron several times, his eyes unfocused, his powers holding him for the briefest of moments. Finally he shook his head and scowled at Tikron. “What does it look like?”
“A love spell? Seriously, Ry? I have just one question for you. Are you insane?”
“Quite possibly, but that’s neither here nor there. We have twenty-nine days to get someone to fall in love with your silly ass, and I don’t see a whole lot of potential candidates banging down your door.”
Tikron ran his fingers through his hair to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tense muscles. “I’m fully aware of the time constraints, Ry. But you can’t use magic.”
“What’s the worst that can happen? If you have a better idea….”
“I don’t, but”—Tikron nodded toward the mess on the floor—“that’s not going to work.”
Ry crossed his arms over his chest, a defiant expression on his face. “I don’t see why you won’t at least try.”
Tikron went to him and laid a hand on Ry’s shoulder. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do. But we can’t use magic. The person has to fall in love with me of their own free will. It’s a waste of time to try and fool Mysdus. It’s not only foolish, it could have grave consequences. Literally.”
Ry stayed rigid for a few more seconds before slumping and letting out a heavy sigh. “Why did you have to wait until the last minute?” he asked once again, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tikron pulled Ry into a tight embrace. “I have a million excuses as to why, but not a single one seems very damn good right now.”
Ry buried his face in the side of Tikron’s neck. “This sucks, and worse, I don’t know what to do. Tell me what I’m supposed to do, Tikron?”
Tikron held him; it was all he could do. He didn’t have the answers. He’d spent hours before dawn lying in bed thinking about the situation he was in. As simple as it would be to let Mysdus dole out his deadly threat, Tikron didn’t want to die, and honestly, he was just as scared as Ry. More so for Ry. Tikron couldn’t imagine what he’d do if the roles were reversed. He couldn’t even comprehend a life without Ry.
They’d been best friends for over a century. They’d met in Richmond during one the darkest periods of Tikron’s long life, part of his past he refused to think about. Ry was the good that came out of it, and Tikron focused on that rather than the circumstances that brought them together. Tikron hadn’t thought he’d be able to come back after the devastation, but against all the odds, he had. There was still a slight chance he’d overcome this as well.
Tikron grabbed Ry’s shoulder and met his gaze. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but I do know I’m not ready to give up. Are you?”
“No.”
Tikron smiled. “Good. Now let’s get this mess cleaned up and figure out what our next move is.” He squeezed Ry tight one more time, then released him.
Silently, they cleaned up the mess. Ry swept the floor and dumped the last of the spell ingredients in the trash. Then he and Tikron took a seat at the dining room table with a couple of cold sodas and a stack of books they still had to go through. “How’d it go at the bakery?” Ry asked.
Tikron tilted his head. “How in the hell did you know I went there?”
“Would you stop pretending like I don’t know you? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’d go hoping to see geek boy again. Plus”—Ry nodded toward Tikron—“you have powdered sugar on your shirt.”
Tikron looked down and chuckled as he wiped away the evidence. “Fine. I’ll concede you know me if you’ll stop calling him that.”
“What? I’m not calling him names. He is a geek, and compared to us, he is a boy. And I don’t have to make any deals. You may not want to admit it, but I know you better than anyone. Maybe better than you know yourself.”
Tikron waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“So…,” Ry prompted.
“He wasn’t there. It’s as if he’s invisible. I asked around, and apparently he comes in, orders coffee—black—ice water, and a bran muffin every time. The only other thing they seem to know about him is that his name is Richard.”
“Maybe he’s new to the place.”
“Nope, that’s the weird part. I talked to one of the employees, and she said he’s been coming in for over a year. She used to try to make small talk with him but gave up. The rest of the staff did too. They serve him, then leave him alone.”
Ry tipped his soda back, taking a big gulp, then grabbed a book. “Sounds like he’s the real life of the party.”
“I think he’s lonely.”
“I heard what he told you, and I quote, I’m alone by choice. I think that makes him a hermit, not lonely.”
Tikron picked at the label on his bottle. He didn’t take a drink, his mind suddenly in another place. He’d seen something in Richard’s eyes. At the time Tikron wasn’t sure what it was or why he was drawn to the man. Now, after learning a little more about Richard, Tikron was convinced it had been loneliness. Regardless of what Richard had said about it being his choice, Tikron didn’t believe it. “There was a connection, at least on my end, and I want to find out what it meant or could mean. I’d like to get to know him.”
“The guy sounded pretty adamant that he didn’t want to give you the time of day,” Ry pointed out.
“Why you want to mash my buzz?”
“That’s harsh my buzz. If you’re going to use the current lingo, you really should make sure you’re using it correctly.”
“Harsh? Are you sure? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yes, I’m quite sure.” Ry shrugged. “Most things the kids say these days don’t make sense.”
Tikron raised his bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”
Ry clinked his soda against Tikron’s. He took a long pull, then tapped the book in front of him. “All right, let’s get this figured out.”
RICHARD sat cross-legged next to the glass patio door, staring out at the night sky, Albert curled up in his lap. Richard ran his hand down from Albert’s neck to his rump, repeating the movement over and over. The repetition was calming, and the warm fur against his palm soothed him. Still, no matter how he tried to focus on something, the night before kept popping into his mind. He analyzed every detail, every word he spoke and those that had been spoken to him. He questioned his responses, his behavior, and vital statistics—increased pulse, clammy palms, above normal respiration rate. He ran different scenarios through his mind. He could have said this, should have said that. It was driving him mad. Why did he care about a different interaction, a different outcome? Why was he even sparing a second of thought for Tikron Amorith? He wasn’t Richard’s type, and even if he were, the past couldn’t be undone. He’d shot the man’s advances down. That was that.
“I think I may be losing my mind, Albert.”
Albert looked up at him with big brown eyes, blinked, then hopped off Richard’s lap and walked away. Seconds later, Richard could hear the dog lapping water from his dish. Richard was most certainly going crazy. If talking to a dog wasn’t proof enough, then the fact that he was hurt that Albert walked away without responding surely was.
He needed to call his mom. He could always count on her to give him sound no-nonsense advice. He checked his watch—8:10. Mom would be sitting in her chair reading while Dad got his nightly one-hour fix of National Geographic. Richard pushed to his feet. After making himself some valerian root tea, he grabbed his cell phone and found a comfortable position on the couch. He dialed the familiar number.
It rang twice before he heard her voice. “Hello, son.”
“Hello. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Son, why must you ask me that each and every time you call? It should be quite evident since I have apparently answered the call. Secondly, since I answered in a generic manner rather than informing you of the timing, you can conclude that it is, in fact, an appropriate time.”
“I ask so you have to repeat that response.”
“For what purpose?”
Entertainment. “No reason.”
“Then shall we get to the reason behind your call?” she asked without a hint of humor.
“How’s Dad?”
“He’s well.”
“Very good. Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Yes.”
Richard stirred his tea, the scent wafting up already doing its magic, relaxing him. He took a sip. “Did you ever consider anyone other than Dad? You know, as a suitor?” He took another sip.
“No.”
“Not even in high school?”
“No,” Mom said curtly.
“What about grade school? Surely you must have had a crush.”
“I don’t recall anyone who stood out, but I suppose it’s possible. Why the sudden interest in my adolescent behavior?”
Richard took another sip of tea while he briefly considered her question. He had no idea what he was hoping to learn. Validation, perhaps? He certainly didn’t want any details if there had been someone. He finally settled on telling her the truth.
“I met someone last night.”
“A colleague?”
“Not really.”
“Richard, either they are or they are not.”
“He’s not. I was at the bakery last night, and a man hit on me. At least, I think he did. He asked me to join him and his friend for dinner. I declined. He then asked me for my phone number, which of course I did not give him. He was one of those all brawn and no brains kind of fellow. Certainly not my type. However, I find my mind constantly wanders to the interaction, and I’m having a difficult time focusing.”
“Did this interaction produce an erection?”
“Mother!”
“I am simply trying to help you discover the reason behind your difficulties in focusing. An erection is usually the most prominent and reliable sign of sexual arousal in males. Now, did you have any other physiological responses, such as increased heart rate or blood pressure?”
“I didn’t take my blood pressure.” Richard was beginning to question the soundness of his decision to call his mom. It was becoming awkward.
“Just a moment, son, your father asked a question.”
Richard took a drink of his tea and choked on it when his mother said, “Richard has experienced sexual stimuli to someone outside his normal parameters of attraction.”
Richard wiped the tea from his chin and shirt. “Jesus, Mother. Do you have to put it like that?”
“Yes, I’ll ask him. Your father wants to know if you have questioned your motivation?”
“My what?”
“Your sexual motivation. Toates’s incentive motivation model of sex suggests that incentive cues in the environment invade the nervous system, which results in sexual motivation. Positive sexual experiences enhance motivation, while negative experiences reduce it. Perhaps this gentleman wore something or behaved in such a manner which triggered a past sexual experience that was positive.”
“Oh. Dear. God. I merely asked about a crush you may have had and how you dealt with it. I don’t need a lecture on human sexuality.”
“But you said—”
“Yes, I know what I said, but I just realized I can handle my difficulty in focusing on my own. Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome, son. I’m always here to help.”
Richard quickly hit the End button and threw the cell on the side table in disgust. That had to have been the most awkward conversation he’d ever had with his mother. At the first sign of puberty, she’d handed him a journal from the University of Maryland Medical Center with an article called “Puberty and Adolescence.” That was the extent of “the talk” that most young teens get. He’d wanted a no-nonsense bit of advice, and he damn sure got what he’d asked for. However, as painfully uncomfortable as tonight’s conversation had been, Mom had pointed out something Richard hadn’t considered.
Perhaps he was projecting some past sexual response on Tikron. He had very little experience to draw from, but he must have subconsciously connected the two events.
Albert hopped on the couch, spun around three times, then collapsed. His head rested on Richard’s lap. Richard stroked the silky fur behind Albert’s ears. “Now that that mess is cleared up, maybe my only abnormal behavior is talking to dogs.” Albert yawned and closed his eyes. Richard chuckled. He could live with that kind of crazy.