Page 111 of Seer
Getting my nose up in there so I didn’t miss any pheromones, I closed my eyes and reached for my magic.
Before I could even visualize it, I was distracted by how warm my ass suddenly felt. I pushed up on my arms and looked over my shoulder at Ms. Jackson. “Give me some room. I can’t focus.”
They somehow managed to look contrite and jerked their head back up in the air.
Karla, standing behind Fantine, shouted. “That goes for all of you. If you’re not doing anything constructive here, back the fuck up!” She demonstrated by moving back about ten feet.
I felt the rest of the onlookers giving us space, and I relaxed. “Thanks.”
I returned to my awkward stance over Greg’s still form so I could get my face in his pit, touching my forehead to his skin. He didn’t have much armpit hair, fortunately. I could smell his deodorant and sweat, but plenty of musky man scent as well.
My shoulders and arms were screaming, but I kept my position. I took a deep breath and reached for the magic again. This time it came easily, and I could see Greg’s wheel spinning sluggishly and sparkling very faintly next to my stronger one. Surely he hadn’t used that much magic replenishing mine earlier. Maybe he was burning through it trying to stay alive.
His wheel did seem to be feeding off the multitudes of tiny lines of unfamiliar magic linked into it, merging and joining his as it turned.
Wait. I’d pushed my magic into Ms. Jackson, and Greg had pushed his into me.
I ducked out of his armpit again. Looking at the crowd, I yelled “Hey! Everybody! Greg’s magic is seriously depleted. I need all of you who are connected to him to push some magic—it doesn’t have to be much—into him. Just find the connection and imagine yourself sending magic through it to Greg. Make sure it’s only a little bit from each of you. All of it will add up and help him.” There were some surprised faces, but most people immediately nodded and closed their eyes.
I bent back down and closed my own eyes again, urging my magic to mingle with Greg’s while asking his magic to weave into mine. Iintendedour magics to combine, to bond. Ipushedmy certainty that Greg wanted this bonding.
His magic absorbed my efforts for several seconds, but then it formed a sort of wall, blocking me from pushing anything else, magic or intent, into it. I got the distinct impression I’d been placed on hold while it processed my request.
“Fuck!” Didn’t it understand if we didn’t bond, Greg would probably die?
Determinedly I pulled away and rotated my body carefully around Greg’s. I knelt next to his left arm and leaned across him, putting one forearm on the ground next to his right shoulder. The pavement dug into my skin, but I ignored it.
Fantine moved so I had enough space to put my hairy pit directly on Greg’s nose, but I was able to position myself so as not to disturb Mr. Cruz and his crucial pressure on Greg’s wound.
Because I was trying not to crush him, Greg’s nose touching my pit was our only skin-to-skin contact.
“His pulse is getting slower,” Fantine warned.
Mr. Cruz said, “But he’s still breathing. Just do what you need to do.”
I nodded in thanks. Then I shut my eyes and concentrated on the magic again.
This time Greg’s magic was waiting for me. It had decided to allow the bonding, agreeing and consenting. I pushed the same consent back. Greg’s magic wheel rotated faster, now slightly brighter and more energetic with the others feeding their magic into it.
Our wheels synchronized, matching speeds, before blending together into one larger wheel. It was beautiful, with small sparks of color here and there. The lines from Greg’s connected Wonders now linked to our joined magic, and if I thought about it, I could get a sense of the person on the other end of each one.
But most of all I could feel Greg, his presence even stronger than I’d experienced before when we’d only been connected. Now it was like I could dip in and out of his mind at will. If I tried, I could probably access his memories. And I could sense his consciousness, trapped deeper than merely asleep.
I tried mentally nudging him. I tried shouting into his mind, but he didn’t stir.
My arms were shaking, and I needed to change position.
But I’d done it. Greg and I were bonded.
I just hoped it wasn’t too late.
I opened my eyes. “We’re bonded,” I croaked. “Somebody help me up.”
Some soft cheers and murmurs came from the crowd, along with the unmistakable sound of a phone taking a picture.
“What the fuck was that? Who took a fucking picture?” I roared over my shoulder at them.
“Um, sorry!” said a woman whose voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Delphia’s asking for an update on Discord, and I thought she’d like a memento of your bonding....”
