Page 52 of Elixir of Strife
At least I’d stopped peeing so damn much. And no word from Bakunawa yet, apparently still slumbering somewhere in the depths of my psyche. But sometimes, no news was good news.
What we’d thought of as anomalies — the breaking bottles at the warehouse, the steam at the docks — we hadn’t been wrong about that. Where we were totally thrown off, though, was the presumed involvement of an aquamancer and a pyromancer, when no water or fire magic had even been involved.
Everything was actually another manifestation of time magic, another manifestation of the Quartz Spider’s growing arcane might. These were the memories of water, awakened by the ebb and flow of chronomancy, of all things.
Max had figured it out, only he was trying to tell me while dangling from what was essentially a strand of spider silk. Like an action hero, but like, a super smart one. I might have been too distracted hanging on for dear life to listen to him at the time, but wow. Brains and brawn in one package. And that face. How could I resist him?
The Quartz Spider simply told the water that it had once flowed in rage and turbulence, coursing and whirling so violently that the bottles stood no chance. The steam at the docks? Same thing, reminding the lapping waves that they had once lived in this world as vapor. Scalding-hot vapor, no less.
“And again with that business when we finally ran into him again,” Max said. “Two stolen elixirs. Fuck’s sake. Honestly, I’m only relieved that Brendan Shum guy didn’t do much worse. Although with the hourglass, it seems like he’s planning much worse.”
I nodded. “I wish I could say what was up with him. He had multiple solid opportunities to kill us outright. Some broken glass in the face sucks, and so does a third-degree burn from steam. But he could have thrown down a time distortion field, trapped us outright. Why bother with the theatrics?”
“Who knows, really? Looking back, they felt more like warnings than earnest attacks. Though steam burns aren’t a joke by any stretch.” Max sighed. “Maybe he likes us. Maybe he wants to be caught.”
I sighed in return. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s trying to show us a sign. I just wish we could see what it was, exactly. I wish I could see at all.”
Max grunted. “Nice try. The blindfold stays on. I told you. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
The car slowed to a halt as he gently hit the brakes. Another traffic light, maybe. I grumbled under my breath, saying nothing in particular, but steadily getting more impatient. It smelled nice, at least. Always smelled nice in there, that new-car smell blended with hints of Max’s own beautifully manly fragrance.
Didn’t help make me any less antsy. We’d been in the car for twenty minutes at least. Was Max just driving me around in circles? Were poor Johnny and Roscoe and Tina hanging up streamers somewhere, preparing a surprise party for — well, for who knew what, exactly? And damn, was I supposed to dress all nice for something?
“Max,” I barked. “Was I supposed to dress nice? I swear, if you’re taking me somewhere swanky and all I have on is a denim jacket — ”
“Absolutely not. Wherever it is we’re going, I promise it’s not nearly as pretentious as Divinity.”
I shrugged. “I mean, it wasn’t that pretentious. You got to wear that ridiculous thing that you — ”
The car came to an abrupt stop. I grunted as the force bumped me forward, then again when Max’s hand shot out to nudge me back against the car seat.
“Hey, would you look at that! We’re here.”
The engine turned over. I stumbled as Max guided me out of the passenger seat, a hand on my hip. Very chivalrous, very gentlemanly, but I was about a minute away from shoving him off me and ripping off the blindfold. Not that I didn’t like surprises. They were cool. But this was taking forever.
We had to go up an elevator, for one thing, the ringing silence of it adding to how stifling the blindfold was. A door opened. We stepped into somewhere nice and warm that smelled clean, and yet somehow also delicious. A restaurant? Way too quiet for a restaurant, though. Another door clicked open, slid to my left. Glass this time, heavy. A patio?
Strong hands set me in place on the ground of wherever the hell we were, and those same strong hands untied my blindfold. I blinked hard, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of night, to the hanging garlands of lights strewn around us, and to the many, many more lights of the city scattered out before us.
“But, it’s your balcony,” I muttered. “Only it’s — well, different.”
I bit my tongue, trying my very hardest not to look so damn impressed. But this was so romantic. Too damn romantic. We came here sometimes to chill, to cool down with drinks and enjoy some music, maybe take in the sun if it was nice out. The simple patio furniture suddenly looked classier with that clean white tablecloth, the chairs similarly dressed.
And again, did I mention the lights? Wrapped around the railings, nestled among the plants. A cool night overlooking Dos Lunas, warmed by so very many lights. If I squinted enough, up here in the high darkness? I could imagine us nestled among the stars. I had a sneaking suspicion that Max had done that on purpose.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, squeezed with his hand. “We decorated it special, just for you.”
“What’s the occasion?” I asked, rubbing my cheek, wishing I could stave off the flattered, flustered blush I knew was forming there. “Why special?”
He pressed a kiss against my cheek, making my skin blaze even warmer. “You kind of saved the day again. Pretty dangerous stuff we keep running into, but you and your dragons — honestly, I can’t believe you felt self-conscious about them enough to keep your pact a secret.”
I chuckled nervously. “What? But we didn’t save the day. Not permanently, at least. The Quartz Spider is still out there.”
“We’ll find him,” Max said, his eyes steely with unwavering confidence. “And then we’ll kick his ass. It’ll be amazing. But right now? Let’s just have a little fun, you and me.”
A man stepped onto the balcony from the apartment, handsome and smartly dressed in white. He flashed us a charming smile and swept his arm toward the table. “If the gentlemen would like to take their seats?”
Still literally dazzled by the lights, I followed as Max led us to the table. Simply appointed, no major frills, just the tablecloth with stylish, modern silverware, a goblet for water, another for wine. Cute little centerpiece, too. Tiny little flowers on dark green leaves, their petals white and waxy. And their scent — familiar. Nostalgic.
