Author’s Note: Trigger warning regarding suicide and self harm.
Stamina and fortitude.
That’s what you need when dating a woman, and you’ll need double when dating two. For those with their minds stuck in the gutter, I ain’t talking about no bedroom activities. Yeah, that’s a part of it, but there’s more to dating than mating. Going on picnics at the gun range sounds easy breezy, until you realize I gotta be the one to plan, prep, and pack everything since Josie and Noora are at school all day. Also gotta be sure to listen when they talk, because if the subject ever comes up again and you gotta ask, then they know you wasn’t listening the first time. Once they figure that out, they start wondering what else wasn’t you listening to, and things just go downhill from there. Shopping is another ordeal, because not only do I have to deal with pushy salespeople, I also gotta weigh in on every decision there is. You’d think that with two women, they can decide what they want to wear together without needing my opinion at all, only for them to turn it into a guessing game where I’m supposed to pick the right answer or else they can’t buy what they want and don’t want what I picked.
See, they already done made their decision. They just want me to make the same one for reasons unknown, but they ain’t giving no hints now are they?
There’s a lot more to complain about, but the thing is, tiresome as all this sounds on paper, it don’t play out that way with the right woman. Or women, in my case. Ain’t nothing more invigorating than seeing Josie’s eyes light up as I roll up in the wagon, or how Noora bites her lip when she sees something she wants, even if it’s something simple as a sweet tart. Social interaction is draining sure, but with Noora and Josie, a smile’s all I need to keep me in the game, and everything else is just gravy.
Least that’s how it feels this fine Saturday evening as I haul two armloads of bags back home with both my dates in tow. Ain’t all gifts for them, as I got plenty of groceries and daily supplies too, since they wanted to spend the day with me without interfering with what I had to do. Seemed a little silly cramming all four of us into Danny’s backroom workshop, but Noora’s got a fierce hunger to learn and a keen interest in Artificing that exceeds even mine. She found Danny’s books a while back and devoured them cover to cover in little more than a week, and now she’s picking my brain here and there whenever she can. Got a mind to start building her own Automaton too, though she’s thinking more skitterbot than hand. Makes sense too, since she still got both of hers, and Danny didn’t seem put off by all her questions. Was a little hard to tell though, as he deathly shy of women and develops a stutter every time he sees a pretty face.
And my gals do be awful pretty…
He'll get over it eventually, and ain’t a bad thing to have Josie and Noora help him build up an immunity. Josie ain’t as inquisitive when it comes to Artificing, but she seemed happy enough keeping me company while I built me another model hand. Got the first one down pat a week ago, and this second one has more points of articulation, which makes for some tricky work getting all the parts to fit. It’s still done in wood for the most part, with a bit of wire to hold things together, and while there’s still a ways to go yet before I get a fully working Automaton, trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.
That’s what Josie told me this morning at least, able to sense my growing frustration despite my best efforts to hide it, and I can’t help but give her a smile to remember it. Beaming brightly as she putters about the kitchen, she scrunches her button nose in a show of faux-pique as she helps unpack the groceries we done just picked up and spots me looking at her the way I do. “Not now,” she says, warning me off even as I lean in for a kiss, and she even holds her finger up for good measure. “Later.”
“Just one kiss?”
“No.” Though soft as cotton and sweet as molasses, Josie got some real steel in her as she shoos me out of the kitchen. Which is only about two steps back really, since my place ain’t exactly spacious, but she’s adamant I get out of her way. “One kiss will turn into two, then lead to other pleasant and distracting things, things I have no time for now if we want to eat anytime soon.”
“How about me then?” Sneaking up from behind to slip her arms around Josie’s waist, Noora rests her chin on the other woman’s shoulder and nuzzles her softly. “You got time for me, hermana?”
Slapping Noora’s roving hands lightly, Josie carries on with her act of being fed up with the both of us. “You are worse than Howie.” Still gives Noora a kiss though, a slow and sensual meshing of lips that gets Josie blushing. Glancing at me when she’s done, she crooks her finger and reels me in like a fish on the hook. Gives me a hard kiss too, pulling on the strings of my bolo tie all the while to let me know this is what she wants, rather than an afterthought to keep me from getting jealous. Leaves me breathless when she breaks away, flashing her impish smile that’s got me yearning for more. “There,” Josie declares, waving me off and slipping out of Noora’s embrace. “That’s all either of you’ll get until after dinner. Go sit down and relax Howie. Help me chop the chile verdes, mija. Don’t worry, I’ll make some that’s less spicy for you.”
Noora steals another kiss from Josie as they set to work in the kitchen and I head out to put the wagon away. Been a wild couple of weeks since we started our little ménage à trois, which is about the best description I got for whatever we have going on. Again, the meaning goes beyond the bedroom, as the literal translation of the term is ‘household of three’. One that seems to centre around Josie rather than myself, because I’m thinking Noora’s a little more in love with Josie than she is with me. She still throws those smoky eyes and teasing looks my way, but I seen how she looks at Josie and know when I’m beat. Can’t really blame her either, because Josie’s got me wrapped around her finger too, a sweet, gentle, and loving person who is so warm and caring you can’t help but want to see her smile.
Now, I ain’t gonna lie. We been getting a fair few number of looks galivanting about as a trio these last few weeks, but aside from a bit of arm linking and hand holding, we keep things clean enough to avoid suspicion. At least I hope we have. While I would never call Aunty Ray a gossipy busybody, she do tend to learn the choicest bits of news right quick. If she knew I was two-timing with Noora and Josie, she’d twist my ear clean off the side of my head wringing all the facts outta me, and I’d be tasting nothing but soap for weeks. So far though, all she’s done is try to pry out the name of which one I’m pursuing, while I do my best to maintain that we all just friends. Ain’t working though, because Aunty Ray can read me like a picture book, so she knows I’m sweet on someone.
Two someone’s to be precise. Ain’t a fact to be proud of, but the heart wants what it wants, and mine wants it all.
Thing is, fond as I am of Noora and her adventurous ways, I find myself growing more and more enamoured of Josie’s snaggletoothed smile as the days and weeks go by. I love how she blushes, not because she’s shy, but because she gets all passionate and heated. I love the little Spanish flair she throws into the mix, like the way she pronounces it ‘sal-sa’, or how she’ll grab my butt and shout, “Pompis!” I love the little growl she gives when she thinks she’s been neglected, and the strong, confidant way she asserts herself in every situation. She wants to do something, and she does it, plain as that, and won’t brook no argument about it, as she shows firsthand when I come back in and try to lend a hand. “Wash up and settle down,” she says, shooing me out of the kitchen again. “You spent all morning working hard, and all afternoon keeping us company and buying us things. Now it’s our turn to take care of you.” The last is said after taking a firm hold of my chin and making it clear in no uncertain terms that she means to spoil me well, and Lord help me if I try to step in and do something again.
Like I said, girl’s got some steel in her, and a whole lot of fire to boot. Add in Noora’s encouragement making her more daring and audacious of late, and we got ourselves a real firebrand in Josie.
“So what?” I ask, flipping a chair around so I can sit facing the girls while they work. “I’m supposed to sit here and do nothing?”
“I did tell you to wash up.” Sticking her tongue out at me as she works a mortar and pestle, Josie adds, “But if you’ve forgotten how to relax and do nothing, then you can talk to us.” Seeing my perplexed expression, Josie rolls her eyes. “You know? Have a conversation? Maybe even about something besides guns, Artificing, or the Mindspire for once.”
“Well… how’s school?”
“Wrong!” Giving me a wry glance, Josie says, “Try again, guapo.” Trading a look with Noora, Josie adds, “All looks and no brains, this one.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Giving me a sidelong look that’s got me lost in her hazel eyes, Noora says, “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. I just wouldn’t say it. His ego’s big enough as it is, and I like them dumb.” After their fit of giggles at my expense, Noora lights up and says, “Tell us about your travels. You ever seen the ocean?”
“Yep,” I drawl, thinking back to the good times when my daddy was still around. “By way of the Muskari Steppes up north, where the grass is green same as the old world, and herds of them shaggy behemoths graze all the livelong day.” Still weirds me out to head north to the Emerald Plains and see green fields of grass stretching out in all directions, instead of pastel whites like we got here by the Wayfayer river. Beats the red soils and multi-coloured plants they got down south though, which makes the higher temps feel even hotter than they already are. Good growing soil though, with plenty of yields so long as your plants don’t need too much water, making it a popular area for most folks just looking to get by.
Seeing Noora’s pout due to my extended silence while she chops some sneezeweed, I get myself back on track and tell her about my time spent along the Serpent Coast, with all them ocean-side cliffs and churning blue and white ocean swells hiding them titular titan serpents and leviathan Abby spawned to fight them. Never got to see one in the wild, but I leaned out over them cliffs and peered down into the ocean. Also saw the start of a massive shipyard some mariners were putting together, where they were hoping to build a giant ocean-faring vessel strong enough to survive the trip up the coast and beyond the Snake Fang Mountain Range to connect with the rest of the continent.
“They want to ride boats out into the ocean?” There’s a rare hint of wonder and whimsy in Noora’s voice, one made all the sweeter by how cool and jaded she usually plays it. Josie spots it too and smiles to hear it, but Noora is too busy concentrating on putting together an image of the ocean to notice. “The same ocean filled with giant sea snakes and tentacled Abby?”
“Huge ships made of Darksteel and Adamantine manned by hundreds of sailors and technicians,” I retort, smiling at the sight of Noora’s wide-eyed fascination. “Gotta be tough and strong to survive the waves and whatever else might come tappin’ on their hulls. If you want to make the trip though, I suggest we try a few ferry rides here first, or maybe even a weekend getaway trip down the Wayfarer if you feeling adventurous.”
“No thank you.” Noora shudders before going back to her work, slicing up an assortment of veggies set aside by Josie. “I still want to see the ocean, but I’ll stick to horseback thank you very much. Sitting pretty in your wagon would be best though, long as you put in some padded seats.”
“And a very pretty picture you’ll be,” Josie interjects, planting a kiss on Noora’s cheek. “You’re getting much better at riding though, hermana.”
Thanks to our many, many trips to the gun range these last few weeks, alongside a few rides around town to see the sights and get frisky in the shadows. Good times, but now I’m paying for them in tales of the Frontier, so I regale the gals with what I got. Start with the various villages all along the Wayfarer, which runs all the way to the west coast and comes out at Thunder Bay. Got plenty of tributaries along it too, ones I travelled alongside my daddy. Find all sorts of people out there, ones of every creed and colour there be, though I also saw all manner of atrocities committed in the name of race, religion, and general public safety. I keep mum on those though, because that don’t make for good conversation.
“What about down south?” Josie asks, pulling something that smells divine out of the oven and giving it a few pokes with a fork before deciding it needs a bit more time. “I know you go up to the desert a lot, and out into the badlands at least once a year, but I never here about you going south.”
“I been to New Sonora, but not for a hot minute,” I say with a shrug. Mostly because the last time me and my daddy went that way, my mother’s brother caught us out and had us dead to rights. “Got a mind to go see more of the Fuchsia Flatlands soon though, maybe the next year or two.”
So I can take care of some family business, but Josie don’t know nothing about that. “I’ve heard it’s dangerous down there,” she says, meeting my eyes with concern and affection both as she plays with her hair and chews on her luscious lips. “Lots of crime and conflict.”
“Which makes it my kinda place.” My bravado falls flat as Josie’s worries grow, so I do my best to do some damage control. “It’s a bit of a hotspot yea. The issue is mostly cultural really. Aint no single nation or alliance strong or united enough to claim sole sovereignty of the area, like how the Federation has all along the Wayfarer or the Métis up on the Emerald Plains. Instead, there’s dozens of minor nations and a couple different intergovernmental organizations vying for control, so there’s lots of contested territory and plenty of shoot-outs over resources.”
“Latino nations,” Josie says, with a surly look I know all too well. Though there are plenty of Mexicans here in New Hope, and other South Americans too, she’s got the same disconnect with her culture that I do. Maybe more in fact, seeing how she embraces her Latina roots while I do everything in my power to distance myself from mine. Must be hard to hear about how her people are faring, even if they’re people she’s got no real connection to. Might make her wonder if she’s the same as them, just like I wonder if I’m too Qin to really ever fit in here, a shared inner conflict that makes me feel even closer to her than I already did.
“There plenty Asian Nations there too,” I say, just to cheer her up. “Fact is, the main contenders in the area are UNASUR and ASEAN. Don’t ask me what those names mean, but they’re pretty much most of South America, minus their surviving Indigenous nations, and South-East Asia without Bharath and Nippon. Don’t ever say that to an old worlder who’s from one of those places though. They’ll have a conniption and spend the next few hours trying to tell you why that’s wrong without listing any real good reasons.”
“Oh that’d be terrible,” Noora says, giving me an amused smile that’s got me all twisted up inside. “Almost as terrible as listening to your rant on gun calibre standardization.”
“Would make things easier when it comes to ammo and barrels is all,” I grumble. “Don’t see why 9mm or 7.62 by 25mm is even a thing.” To keep me from getting all worked up, Josie grabs a bottle of fizzy sarsaparilla from the Freeze-box and places it in my hand, like an adult placating a child with a treat. Works though, as I pop it open and take a nice, long swig before telling them more about the nations down south. “The real cause for all that strife is the major players backing each side. Namely the Latin American Catholic Church and the Qin Republic. Nine times out of ten, anyone you run into will have ties to one or the other.”
“Latin American Catholic Church? What? The Roman Catholics do something to piss them off?” Noora asks, her tone breezy and light-hearted as always.
Picked a terrible subject for levity though, so I stick to the facts as best I can. “The opposite actually. South American Catholics were more open to incorporating their heritage into their religion, which the North Americans and Europeans didn’t much like, so they split up a good while back.” That’s how you get folks like Vicente back in Pleasant Dunes venerating Santa Muerte, or more formally, Our Lady of Holy Death. Rubs some religious types the wrong way, but I don’t see why folks gotta get up in arms about that sort of thing. Far as I can tell, all the rules to religion are made up anyways, so who cares if some folks follow a different set from the ones you use? Seems reasonable to live and let live, yet it feels like I’d be in the minority if it came down to a vote.
I don’t say as much though, because I noticed Josie getting real quiet once the subject was brought up, and I move on right quick. “Ain’t all that bad though,” I say. “Long as you find a local guide who’s up on current events, you can avoid most the hotspots pretty easily. Ain’t like up in the Northmoor over on the other side of Deadlock Bay, where you can get shot just for showing up at the wrong time of day.” Which is any time, far as I can tell, because them sheepherders don’t mess around.
“Why’s it so dangerous up there?” Noora asks, always eager to learn more about the outside world.
“Same reason as why it’s bad down south,” I say with a shrug. “Similar song and dance with different musicians and dancers is all. More than two sides too, with plenty of Euro-centric nations feuding with African and Middle Eastern states over who settled the Northmoor first, and none of them happy to see the others stick around. It’s all made worse by the limited space, since the Northmoor is the only place where their durasheep can graze.”
“Durasheep?”
“Big Magical ungulates that graze on the mineral dense shrubbery,” I say, having never really seen one for myself. “Something in the plants let’s them durasheep grow thick coats of razor-sharp wiry wool, which is then spun into a tough and protective fibre that can block Bolts, resist Fire, and won’t be melted by Acid. Ain’t much for insulation, whether it be temperature or Electric, but it’s a prized material to be sure, one made all the more valuable thanks to how slow them durasheep produce wool and lambs both.”
Hence why no one is willing to give up on the Northmoor and the wealth it represents. So far, the conflict has been contained to peninsula itself with only the Africans and Middle Easterners doing the fighting, but there are plenty of other nations are all watching closely to see who comes out on top, including the Métis and United Federation.
What I don’t mention is my plans to head even further south to the Knife’s Edge mountain range, which runs from the southern edge of the Divide all the way to the coastline. That there is home base for the Qin round these parts, and you’d be hard pressed to find one outside their well-guarded borders. If I hadn’t lost my hand, I might well have spent this summer and autumn ranging south to prep for when I’m ready to put paid to past debts. Without the hand though, I figure it’d be better to wait until I’m strong enough to survive the trip and make it back. Day’s coming soon though, because time’s a wasting, with the Watershed growing closer and closer with each passing day.
Don’t no one really know what’ll happen when the Watershed hits, other than the surplus of Abby and Proggies running around that is. Could be nothing, could be Aether Storms and natural disasters the world over, or something somewhere in between. What I do know is that before the Watershed, my enemies will be limited to Third Order Spells same as me, but they’ll only grow stronger after the fact. Can’t be playing catch up my whole entire life, so my window of opportunity is soon to close. If I can’t get good soon enough to match up against most Magi, then it might be time to face facts and roll the dice on whether I make it back out alive. Either way, I owe it to my daddy to at least try. He might not care about getting even, but I can’t rest easy knowing that somewhere out there, there’s a man or a woman who greenlit my daddy’s death and ain’t caught a Bolt between the eyes just yet.
A man who will most likely be my mother’s brother, but who knows. Maybe it’ll be some other bigwig instead. Can’t rightly say I understand how the Qin think, so I got my work cut out for me figuring out what’s what.
It’s only a brief moment of quiet introspection, maybe a full second spent buckling under the heavy weight of the burdens I’ve taken on, but it’s enough for Josie to notice. Gently depositing herself in my lap, she slips her arms around my neck and leans in for a nuzzle, which I take as an opportunity to steal a kiss. She kisses back with more passion and hunger than I was raised to expect from a proper young lady, more than you’d think a sweet and innocent girl like her can contain. When she finally breaks it off, we’re both a little short of breath, and she looks into my eyes like she can see right through me and don’t see nothing she don’t like. “Whatever it is that’s got you down,” she begins, resting her dainty little head on my shoulder and curling in for a cuddle, “We can talk about it, or we can leave it be, but don’t ever think you gotta hide your pain from us.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Just worried about the future is all,” I say, wrapping my arms around her slender body and hugging her oh so tight. “Lots to be concerned about, and I like to be prepared.”
It’s an evasion, and Josie knows it, so she gives me a look to tell me she knows it before planting a kiss on my cheek followed by a love bite. Wiggling out of my embrace, she hops back to her feet and gets to cooking again, only for Noora to take her empty seat. Funny thing is that while Josie likes sitting with her right side towards me, Noora prefers to show me her left, which is pretty standard to how we arrange ourselves whenever we out and about. Probably has something to do with Josie being shy about her snaggletooth, and Noora brushing her hair over her right side. I been told girls have a preferred angle, and this here is proof positive that they work hard to show their best side off at all times. “Josie might like to spoil you,” Noora says, tracing my jawline with her finger, “But don’t expect me to wait on you hand and foot every day and night.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I say, leaning in for a kiss, one she shorts me on with an impish smile because she does so love to lead me on. “Me, I’d rather spoil the both of you.” Because even after so many days together, it still doesn’t feel real, like this is all some illusion that’ll crumble away, or a dream I’ll soon awake from.
Wiggling in my lap as if to get comfortable, Noora bites her lip to further stoke the flames of my ardour before glancing away to watch Josie work. I’m content to do the same, wrapping my arms around Noora’s bared midsection and digging my fingers into her flesh. Though still slim and petite, she’s packed a good bit of meat on her bones and really filled out in her time here, a change for the better in all aspects. While we snuggle and watch, she asks me more questions about the Frontier and I tell her everything I know, all too eager to bring them both out to see what the world has to offer. They gotta both finish Basic of course, as they’ve already signed on for the next class which will run for 6 months same as before, with an additional 6 if you want to join the Rangers. Half a year puts us at January, which gives us a month or two to make sure they can take care of themselves before I bring them out into the Frontier proper come spring. Worst comes to worst, I can always hire on some extra hands to help protect them, maybe even some adventurous souls who finished Basic but ain’t looking to join the Rangers. Won’t be the Firstborn’s Frontier-born, not for a bit, but we can make a fair living running trade routes, delivering supplies, and maybe even the odd hunt or two. It’ll be fun travelling with them, a girl on each arm as we explore the Frontier together before maybe settling down to start a family here in New Hope.
Assuming I survive my run in with the Qin of course.
My mood takes a turn for the worse as I consider what the future might hold, a bleak contrast compared to the delightfully sinful scene I find myself mixed in. Maybe they’d both be better off saving their romance for someone else, someone whose got a real future instead of a one-handed man with what’s almost certain to be a death wish. Chances of me making it back from my trip to the Knife’s Edge mountain range are slim to none, especially with how guarded the Qin are against outsiders. Only thing they hate more than a foreigner is a home-grown traitor of the Republic, which is what I am in their eyes. Time was, I thought I’d made my peace with it, knowing that there will come a day when I ride south to avenge my daddy, and how I might never return home again. Might being the keyword there, because I always figured I’d get good enough before the Watershed to run circles around most. Problem is, that ain’t true no more. Without a right hand, I don’t got that same confidence no more, as it’s been the better part of two months and I still ain’t made much progress to speak of. It’s all fine and dandy to hope for the best, but the flip side of the coin is to prepare for the worst.
And I’ve been doing anything but.
Hope is great and all, but you gotta be reasonable about it. What are my chances really? Slim to none, that’s what, because it’s going to be at least another ten months before I got my Automaton hand ready to go, and even then it’ll be months of debugging, fine-tuning, and learning pains to get through. As for my efforts to create a new Spell or improve the Mage Hand Cantrip through familiarity? That’s going nowhere fast. I got no real direction when it comes to creating a Spell, and while Astrid notes have proved most enlightening, it always feels like I’m on the cusp of something without ever getting anywhere as I run circles around in my head asking questions and coming up empty on answers. Not to mention how May is almost done and I’ve yet to work a single hour, with still a full 250 to go to clear out my back log.
Sure, you could say the threat of the Mafia coming to get me has put a pin in my plans, but I can’t live out the rest of my life in fear, now can I? Even then, it’s not like I’m 100% safe even here in New Hope, as it’s been shown they can get their people in as easy as turning a hand. What’s more, I’m wasting all my time lately with Noora and Josie. Which has been great, don’t get me wrong, amazing in fact, but what am I doing getting mixed up with not one, but two lovely ladies? Forget marriage, that’d only leave them as widows, and then where’d they be? Even worse off than without me, that’s where, because terrible as it is to say, ain’t no man’s dream to wed a widow. If I truly love them, I should leave them be, because they’re better off that way. I can’t do that though, because they mean so much to me, bring so much light to my otherwise dark and gloomy existence. I don’t want to break out into song again, but each day spent with them is better than the last, meaning every day is the best day I’ve ever had.
So why not go out on a high note? End things with a bang and settle this on my terms instead of leaving it up to chance? It’d be so easy. Two shots with the Rattlesnake while they’re not paying attention, and they’ll be dead before they even know what hit them. Then it’s a moment of pain for me, the few seconds it takes to turn the Rattlesnake around on myself and end my misery. A perfect day capped off with a perfect night for a perfect ending for our story.
My fingers close around the polished wood grip of my daddy’s gun, and I lift it an inch out of the holster before slamming it back down with a gasp. Or at least I try to, and the world spins around me as I struggle for breath, fighting for air that will not come, and it takes all the focus I can bring to bear to see the world as it is. Noora’s hazel eyes are opened wide in fury and her caramel skin flushed with exertion as she wraps her slender fingers around my neck and squeezes for all she’s worth. Behind her, Josie’s screaming and shouting, trying to pull Noora off of me in her panic, but the dainty girl is no match for Noora’s maddened strength. And Maddened she is, caught in the throes of a Spell most insidious, one I almost succumbed to myself. Now ain’t the time for self-recrimination though, not with Noora trying to choke the life out of me. Luckily, she don’t know how to properly do it, as there’s more to choking someone out than applying pressure to the windpipe. Even if I can’t breathe, I can still hold my breath for a good minute even without any preparation. It ain’t a lack of air that makes you pass out right quick, but a lack of blood going to the brain, and Noora lacks the grip strength or hand positioning to do anything about that.
Which is what I tell myself to keep me calm, because the last thing I want to do is hurt her. Reaching up with my one good hand, I grab her by the meat of her palm and pry her hand away with a wince. The blood on her pretty purple fingernails tells me it ain’t sweat dripping down my neck, so I hold Noora’s arm out for Josie to take. Once she got it in both hands, I pry Noora’s other hand off of my neck, then turn her around so I can pin her arms against her and hold her by myself. “No!” she screams, kicking and thrashing about, but I keep my head next to hers so she can’t headbutt me easily. “No! I won’t let you! I won’t!”
“Josie,” I say, keeping my voice calm and controlled while speaking over Noora’s screams. “There’s a bottle of high proof vodka in the top left cupboard. Be a dear and pour me a dram, will you?”
Even though this is hardly the time or place for a shot, Josie does as she’s asked without question. Got a generous pour too, and she hands the shot glass over to my Mage Hand which brings it over to hover beside me. Still struggling to hold a squirming Noora in place, I waggle my phantom fingers and Intone, “In – Vino – Veritas.” In wine is truth, a simple enough saying that flows well with the Spell Structure fixed in my mind. The Aether flows through the pattern and dissolves the foul drink within the glass, then renders its effect onto Noora who slumps down in a daze. Which is also the name of the Cantrip, a rather effective one that I don’t use much because it seems like a waste of good alcohol. Well worth it here though, as it helped debilitate Noora without injury, but it’ll only last about five seconds so there’s no time to waste.
Setting her on the chair, I grab a length of rope provided by my other Mage Hand and loop it around the slim, dark-skinned girlie and the chair both. Don’t bother tying it off since I’m only buying myself time to sling another Cantrip, and just as Noora’s coming out of her Daze, I hit her with a Console. “I’m here for you,” I say, filling my words with the power of the Cantrip as I look Noora in her eyes, so bright and beautiful despite the Daze and Madness dampening their lustre. Enchantment is my worst School of Magic, but I use this Cantrip on Cowie every morning, and the other animals too when I’m feeling generous, so I got a good amount of practice making this Cantrip feel sincere. Which is needed, because all it does is reassure the recipient and calm their thoughts and emotions. A metaphysical pat on the back or squeeze of the hand, that’s all it really is, but it’s enough to give Noora just the boost she needs to shake off the Madness that’s taken over her.
The effects are a sight to behold, as she goes from Dazed, to barking mad, then tamps down to fear and sorrow. “Oh Howie,” Noora whispers, her eyes filling with tears as she leans in towards me, and I lean in too to touch heads. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I say, though my voice comes out raspy and strained. “Wasn’t you after all. Was the Spell.”
“I thought…I had to… I couldn’t…”
Taking a deep breath, I let the Aether flow through the Console Spell Structure again and Intone, “No need to worry.” That’s the odd thing about the Console Cantrip. It’s technically got a Vocal Component, only it ain’t a key and lock like it is on most other Spells. It’s more of a vehicle, the vector through which the Enchantment works, and the reassurance hits Noora hard. Strong and tough though she might be, she’s shaken to the core right now by what she just witnessed, and I ain’t doing much better either. I was ready to kill them both and myself just so we’d never have to part ways, a twisted sort of possessive love that I will always know is lurking within me. That’s something for future Howie to deal with though, because there are more pressing matters at hand, like freeing Noora from her bindings and making sure Josie ain’t hurt in all this.
Then again, she might well be the strongest willed one here, seeing how she shook off the Madness right quick. “You’re bleeding,” Josie says, pulling a handkerchief out of her purse and moving to tie it around my neck.
Stopping her before the kerchief touches my skin, I take a moment to study the white embroidered piece. Silk if I ain’t mistaken, which would’ve cost a pretty penny even for a square like this, and the needlework is fine as any I’ve seen. Got green stemmed pink flowers stitched all around the border, with a wreath in the corner encircling a couple letters stitched in pink too. HZ & JR it reads, in big old fancy, swooping cursive, and my heart skips a beat to see it as I gently run my fingers across them just to make sure I ain’t seeing things. “Howie Zhu and Josie Ramirez,” I say, and she blushes to hear it, even as we both got an arm around Noora who’s still shaken up something fierce. “You made this? I can’t be getting my blood on a piece as fine as this.”
Rather than melt at the sentiment, Josie gets all fired up. “Ay, idiota,” she snaps. “Just wash it when you’re done bleeding.” Finished with me, she gestures for me to do as she says and finishes freeing Noora, who’s half laughing and half crying in the chair. Me, I ain’t about to risk Josie’s ire looking for another clean handkerchief, so reluctant as I am, I give the kerchief a couple twirls before tying it around my neck like compress.
“Here’s the gameplan,” I say, once my wounds are tended and Noora’s back on her feet. “We gather up some things and make for the church. No idea if the Madness is one and done or if the Mindspire can hit us again, but either way, chances of the Spell taking effect on Consecrated ground are low at best.” Also gives me a chance to check in on Aunty Ray and the twins, because even though the Padre assured me they’re in good hands, I’m always one to verify. Luckily, we’ve known this day would come sooner rather than later, so I’ve been stocking up on non-lethal defenses, including three cattle prods I done made myself that deliver a Merciful jolt of Electric damage similar to Shocking Grasp. Don’t mean it can’t kill a man, but they’d have to be real unlucky to die from just one zap, or have pre-existing conditions like a bad heart. Josie and Noora get one each, while I loop a long coil of rope around my arm and stuff a bunch of pre-tied rope cuffs into my jacket pockets.
As for my guns, I hesitate a moment before heading into my room and tossing the Rattlesnake and Model 10 into the safe. Don’t want to shoot no one under the throes of Madness, and I’d hate to get into a scuffle with someone who got the presence of mind to go for my gun. Better to carry around the bottle of Vodka and use Daze when I can, plus I’ll always have the Bolt Cantrip if I needs it, and even a Merciful Metamagic bead on my bracelet for good measure.
Which don’t mean much of anything with Big Spells if I’m being honest. Sure, a Merciful Fireball probably won’t kill you, but it’ll leave you burnt crispy and wishing it did soon enough.
“Stay close,” I say, as we step foot outside the house and into the chaos I hear breaking out all over town. Sensing Josie’s concern as she glances towards her house, I add, “Soon as the two of you are safe and sound, I’ll go get your parents. I move faster alone.” There’s no argument from either of them anymore as I step lively out into the moonlight, where my heart breaks to see the wallies slapping away at each other in their ranch. Drawing in a deep breath, I give a wordless bark made deafeningly loud by the Thaumaturgy Cantrip. The booming sound echoes out into the night and scares the wallies something fierce as they all scamper back to their hidey holes, which is just a bunch of hide pouches I hung up under a roof so they could catch some z’s in comfort.
Making my way over to the stable, I stop at the barn door for a listen just to make sure it ain’t all out war inside. Only thing I hear is a bit of stamping and whinnying, but things seem more or less under control. Even then, I gesture for the girls to hang back a tick before cracking open the door, where I find myself face to face with a full-sized Cowie.
My heart leaps in my chest as my partner bodies his way through the door, and my life flashes before my eyes as he stuffs he head in my chest, but that’s all he does. He don’t headbutt me out of this life and into the next, just comes in close for a cuddle because he’s scared and wants a hug, which is what he gets because he’s two tonnes of bull I wouldn’t want to ever mess with. “It’s okay partner,” I say, using Console once again before planting a kiss on his big head. “You’re all good here.” Inside, I spot Dumpling, Momo, and Samosa all huddled up in the corner, while on the other side of the barn we got Old Tux laying down the law with a couple whinnies and stomps. Don’t matter how angry them other horses get, he’s the boss round these parts, so unless they willing to lay down a challenge, them other horses will fall in line and like it. As for the kiccaws, they look like they all fast asleep in the rafters, huddled up in groups of threes and fives with their eyes closed and wings tucked.
Which is all good and well, but we got things to do and places to be. Leaving Old Tux where he is to keep the other horses in check, I reassure the cow gals with a few pats and Consoles before heading out with Cowie in tow. Got both girls up on his back too as he trots along side me, moving at a brisk pace to cover ground quick without taking too much wind outta my sails. The neighbours seem quiet, and intent on keeping things that way, which is one way to go about it, but I dunno how powerful the Madness is or how far it will spread, so better to gather up at the Church where everyone can look out for one another.
As we draw closer to the church and the more populated areas of town, the hubbub of conflict grows louder and louder until there’s no longer denying the Spell’s effect. Madness has descended upon New Hope, with screams and shouts and gunshots aplenty sounding out in the empty night. Been telling people for weeks that they ought to sleep alone in a room with a locked door just in case of this Spell, but that don’t really help when the Spell hits you at dinnertime. I shudder to think what the pub/diner looks like, one which would’ve been packed in tight on a Saturday night like tonight, and I push the thought out of mind since there ain’t nothing I can do about it.
There are other groups headed straight for the church, and most look at us askew, either moving off to put more distance between us or slowing down so we ain’t moving side by side for long. Can’t say I blame them for their abundance of caution, and I’m just glad I didn’t have to hurt no fools to put some sense into them. Aside from a few tense stare downs, the trip to the church goes by without incident. I’m even relieved to see the Padre for once, as he stands outside his open front doors with his guitar in hand, strumming away at some tune and singing a church song that fills me with hope and assurance as soon as I hear it. It’s like the Console Cantrip, only better and more widespread, an area of effect Spell meant to disrupt and disperse mind-influencing Spells like Madness. He’s even smiling as he sings and gives me a little nod as I pass by, like this here is just one of his little church meets and I’m here for the sweet treats.
Say what you will about the Padre, but it takes more than a little Madness to shake his faith.
Inside the church, Aunty Ray’s got everyone grouped up in front of the altar, ready to run or fight should they come under attack. A born leader she is, not in the same way Uncle Teddy is, but a leader all the same as she takes charge and reassures the crowd that everything will be okay. That said, her fa?ade cracks just a bit when she sees me come in with a bloodied kerchief around my neck, and she runs over to hug me tight and make sure I’m okay. Takes some convincing, but I manage to avoid the antiseptic for now by redirecting her attention to Noora, who’s plenty shook up by the night’s events and has gone more or less catatonic in Josie’s embrace while Chrissy hugs them both as moral support. “I’m gonna head out and check on her parents,” I whisper, which earns me a wide-eyed glare all full of ire from Aunty Ray who’d much rather I stayed here, but I don’t back down one bit.
“Well,” she says, struggling to come up with a reasonable argument. “At least I got an answer now, don’t I?” She runs her finger over the kerchief, no doubt thumbing the HZ & JR. “I’d’ve lost money on that. Could’ve sworn it was Noora you fancied.”
She ain’t exactly wrong, but I ain’t about to tell her as much, so I give her a wink and turn to reassure Cowie before heading back out again.
Only to find I got a tail now, with Tina following close behind, holding her own cattle prod and a couple rope cuffs of her own. “Get back inside,” I hiss, while the Padre hits those high notes beside us while doing his Christian rock thing and looking all too handsome in the process. “You keep your mama and Chrissy safe.”
“They’ll be safe in the Church,” Tina retorts, blowing her hair out of her eyes because she done already let it down for the night. “And you got no guns and no Spells left to you.”
Because I’ve already blown them all on Mental Fortress today, keeping her head clear for the morning at least. Chrissy picked it up for herself a few days ago, and keeps trying to show me how to do it proper, so Tina’s been getting my Spell since then. “Got one or two,” I mumble, knowing it ain’t much of an argument, and she knows it too.
“Well I got most of mine.” Because she hasn’t learned the Spell herself yet, as she’s having trouble with the math. Can’t everyone just Intuit it like Chrissy can, now can she?
“Illusions ain’t always the best Spells to use against enthralled targets.” Which while true, is mostly just said for the sake of my ego. “What Spells you got?”
We talk on the go, because Josie’s place ain’t all that close. Normally, we’d go down the main thoroughfare and turn onto her street, but I’d much rather avoid people wherever I can. That’s why I left Cowie behind too, as we clamber over a wall and move along it until we reach the next street where we run into a brawl breaking out. There a trio of fellas carrying a pipe, a bat, and a plank, and they each do their damnedest to brain one another in the streets with no real care or concern for what happens to them. Before I can tell Tina to leave them be though, she rushes on over while waggling her fingers and chanting along the way. Soon as she’s in range, she throws her arm out towards the combatants and shoots rainbows out of her palm, a light show so bright it leaves me seeing spots and her targets flailing about in blindness.
Color Spray, which grants temporary blindness that won’t last more than a minute, but still blind all the same.
“Good Slinging,” I say, before using Living Whip to lasso one blind fella out of reach of another, then taze the second who’s still swinging wildly at the air. Man goes down convulsing like he done been possessed, which is really not what I was expecting. “Holy heck,” I say, as Tina zaps the last fella who goes down just as hard as this one here. “People use these things on cattle?”
“Poor things,” Tina murmurs, and I can’t tell if she’s talking about the cattle or these two unfortunate souls here, who are both weak and spasming yet still trying to get back up and fight. Tina gets right to tying her prisoner up, and I do the same, with the both of us sharing a soft little smile in the midst of all this chaos. Her bright eyes and cheery smile sets my heart to fluttering, and I can’t help but think about what Aunty Ray said. That conversation has been rattling around in my head for some weeks now, about how Tina don’t really understand romance, but I ain’t done nothing about it because I don’t know what there is to do. She’s my sorta-sister, and I love her to bits, but I’ve no idea how to be brotherly about my affection, not when she gets my heart racing with a smile. So do Noora and Josie, but it’s different with them, because it’s wrong and new and exciting, while with Tina, it just… is. I love her dearly, will hurt anyone who ever makes her cry, and while Aunty Ray says Tina don’t understand the difference between familial and romantic love, I’m not so sure I do either. Love is love, and I don’t know how to separate that warmth and affection from the hunger and passion.
Best learn quick though, because while Josie and Noora might be happy to share me between them, I’m not so sure they’ll be thrilled to include another woman in the mix.
Once we got all three men hog-tied and harmless, we haul them onto a Floating Disc I conjure up with a Ritual. Can’t leave them be, not while they struggle against their bindings in a frenzied rage, because who knows who might come across them while we gone? No amount of Dazing, water splashing, or face slapping can shake them out of it, and I thank the Lord Noora’s made of sterner stuff. Don’t know what it is she saw, but she snapped out of it right quick, even if she’s still reeling from the aftereffects. I would be too if I didn’t have a mission at hand, namely find Josie’s parents and bring them back safe. Wouldn’t hurt to get into their good books considering all the sinning I’ve been doing with their daughter, though here’s hoping they don’t find out anytime soon.
With the Floating Disc behind us, we can’t climb no more walls, but I know this town like the back of my hand and Tina knows it even better. There are plenty of small footpaths in between the major streets, ones too small for a full-sized wagon but good enough for a wheelbarrow at least. Bad for defense when the plan is to cordon Abby along main streets, but people will sacrifice a lot for the sake of convenience. Either way, me and Tina got our work cut out for us getting to the Ramirez’s place. We stop three more fights by doling out a few Colour Sprays and Dazes, though we’re forced to put four more men down with zaps when they come running at us. Hear more than a few gunfights in the process too, but those we steer clear of, and do our best not to look too closely at the aftermath of too many encounters which I’d really rather not parse out.
Not too many dead just yet, but plenty bloodied, broken, and injured, while those few who did bite the bullet didn’t go in a pretty way. Once Madness takes hold, there’s no stopping your rage, and the unchecked consequences are unsightly to behold.
Good news is we find a band of holdouts who seem well off enough to hold our prisoners and free us up to be about our way, but our progress is slow going indeed. By the time we get to the Ramirez house, almost a full hour has passed instead of the normal fifteen-minute jaunt or five-minute ride, and my stomach is twisted up in knots from everything I seen. The house is lit up upon our arrival, the kitchen light shining through the window and the porch light on so Noora and Josie can make it back safe and sound. Ain’t no movement inside though, and nothing I can hear from the front door neither. I try it, find it locked, then pull out Josie’s key and slip it into the lock. There’s no keeping quiet about this, at least not when the whole street seems empty and desolate, so I let the clack of the tumblers sound out as I unlock and open the door. “Hello?” I call, sticking to cover as I peer inside the dark mudroom and the house beyond it. Only light on is in the kitchen, and I spot a ray shining out from the left side of the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez? It’s Howie Zhu. Just coming back to check in.” No answer, so I give Tina a look before stepping inside, one that says cover my six. “I’m unarmed and I’m coming inside.”
Which ain’t entirely true, as I got my non-lethal cattle prod, but ain’t no mincing facts. This here is to protect me and Tina, because you gotta look after yourself before you look after others. As I step into the hallway and shut out the noise behind me, I hear a faint sound that’s difficult to parse at first, because it ain’t what I expected. When I finally I.D it, my stomach drops out from under me, a sensation redoubled once the sharp, metallic tang wafts through the air and hits my senses hard. Gesturing for Tina to stay back, I come up alongside the kitchen doorway, and take a moment to steel my nerves before looking.
Because when you take everything I seen tonight, then add in the smell of blood and sound of a grown man sobbing softly, you know it ain’t gonna be pretty.
The blood is always the first thing you notice, a shade of crimson bright and vibrant it almost assaults the senses. Not all of it is that brilliant hue, as time enough has passed for some of the blood to pool and coagulate, darkening to a somber shade of red that is so far removed from the first. It’s everywhere, all across the kitchen floor, streaks and sprays that paints a picture I’d rather not see and tells a tale I’d really rather forget. The long and short of it all is that Josie probably got her grit from her mama, seeing how her daddy succumbed to the Madness and hacked the love of his life apart. With a fruit knife of all things, chasing her round and round the kitchen to get at her, and now the poor man’s covered in his dead wife’s blood while cradling her torn and mangled body in his arms.
That’s the worst part of Madness you see. In the moment, you think that’s what you want, that it makes sense to do what you doing, only for the Madness to fade and the guilt remain.
Then and only then does Mr. Ramirez notice my presence, glancing up with puffy, tear-stained eyes and blood smeared across his face. “I don’t know what came over me,” he whispers, and my heart shatters to hear it. “Mi reina, mi sol, mi alma… What have I done?” Though looking right at me, I can tell he ain’t seeing me for who I am, just someone he can confess his sins to. That is right up until his eyes focus and his stare fixates on me. Not my eyes, not my expression, but on my neck, where Josie’s kerchief sits plain as day and reads, “HZ & JR”.
And wouldn’t you know it, the man, this poor, tortured, guilt-ridden man, smiles and sighs to see it. “Good good,” he says, nodding in approval as he holds his dead wife up to see it too. “You will look after mi chiquita. You tell Josie that we love her. Noora too. Though our time was short together we were a family. Do not let them see this.” That’s all he’s got for me, as he looks down at the love of his life lying dead in his arms. “Do not let them see me.”
His arm comes up to reveal a pistol in hand, and I shout, “No,” as I run in just in time to get hit by the splatter, as Mr. Ramirez punches his own ticket so he can follow after the love of his life.
Because like the song goes, he can’t live, if living is without her.
