Page 49 of Until the End of Ever
“We have the start of many answers about Kleos, and a fair few theories, but no concrete proof. It wouldn’t hurt to getoutside opinions. We present it as a challenge—just a school test, a hypothetical situation. Hell, we can even offer a prize for the best answer.”
“I like it. And it’ll make them think, too…but I have, like, thirty kids that come to mind. Tell you what, come with Elias tomorrow. Bring Kleos. We’ll get him started on his test and I’ll use my open study session for the project.” My friend punched my shoulder none too gently. “We’ll make a professor out of you yet!”
“I’d rather shove my hand in a pit of snakes.”
20
KLEOS
If my ego had needed a boost, it was getting it. As well as hundreds of compliments, I received no fewer than four proposals tonight—one of them was by Cassiopea herself, so I wasn’t sure it counted. But the cherry on top was the old curmudgeon waving a white flag.
“When are you opening a bakery?” she grumbled, a choux in each hand. “It better be in unders. There’s a spot on Life Avenue. Been closed since the old Olwen retired. Just say the word; I know the owner.”
“I just bake in my spare time,” I replied. “Making it a business would take the fun out of it.”
“You sound like my Lucian,” she replied. “Waste of talent, if you ask me. I don’t know what you did to these bloody balls but I can’t even feel my knees throbbing anymore.”
I hesitated for all of five seconds.
In a large crowd, I was always assaulted by the many aches of every person around me—which was one of the many reasons I had become a bit of an introvert by default. The healing spells in my creams had made this crowd less overwhelming, by a long shot, but Andrea Saltzin stood out.
“May I?” I asked.
The crone tilted her head. “May you what, break into a song, start dancing the Macarena?”
“Fix you,” I replied, managing a smile. “Just a little.”
“What’s to fix? I am perfection.”
While becoming as elegant and commanding as Cassiopea in a distant future was still very much a personal goal, I decided that after that, in maybe a thousand years or so, it might be fun to be an Andrea.
“Can I do my thing, or not?”
“Well, get on with it, then. If you break anything, I’ll break yours twice as hard.”
Rolling my eyes, I got started, bringing my hands to her head first, palms facing each other inches from her skin. I let my energy flow between them, passing through her spine, from the base of her skull, then slowly lowered my hand to her shoulder, chest, midriff. I winced, as the echoes of her many woes reverberated through my skin.
Not enough cartilage. And don’t get me started on the alignment of that spine!That would need a hands-on approach.
I took my time at her hips.
“Spicy hydra shit!” the crone yelped. “What are you doing to me?”
I looked into her eyes, canting a brow.
“Well, don’t stop now! Do my knees! Do my feet! And redo my bloody butt again!”
Chuckling, I crouched down to work on the lower half of her body.
When I was done, I couldn’t help but notice I had an audience. The noisiest of the guests had surrounded us, muttering amongst themselves as they watched. The more polite had remained where they were, but were still looking anyway. I didn’t let that bother me.
“Next I need to do something a little less pleasant if you’ll let me.”
The crone grasped one of my hands with both of hers, panting. “Anything.”
I moved to her back, asked her cross her arms around her chest, before cracking her spine twice.
“Nghhaa!” she screamed.
