Power Addict

~Chapter Eleven~

Virginia was, not surprisingly, the first to the grave. She dropped her flowers on the mound of last years with little ceremony.

“I’m glad you’re dead, you bitch. I’ll never know what my life would have been like had you not existed,” the woman swallowed down the lump in her throat. She could hear someone coming up behind her but she was down wind. She waited until who ever it was to start talking.

“Ginny?” Wendy looked uncertain. Her oldest friend’s sorrow pressed against her like cling wrap. There was a well of sadness. So much. Too much.

“I hate her, even after all this time, I hate her,” Virginia turned to the psychic.

“I know,” Wendy put an arm around the taller woman’s shoulders. The Cling wrap cinched around the women and Wendy gasped at the abruptness of it. Suddenly she saw herself as a twelve-year-old dragging Glen by the arm to meet Virginia, “Here, I think you two will get along,” The twelve-year-old Wendy said, then there was a scene of Virginia and Glen having sex (good sex from the sound of it), then December stood over a bruised Virginia shouting at her, telling her that she was nothing and that she and Glen shouldn’t be together, then more, quicker flashes, indiscernible, blood, a gun to someone’s head, faces of wereanimals and vampires, including the one called Hector, the King of the vampires of California, and there was Virginia giving him a disk with information about the panwere, December beating the shit out of Virginia for her betrayal.

Wendy fell backwards and Virginia leaned against the stone Gargoyle over December’s remains. They looked at each other. Virginia was sure to have seen a similar slide show to the one Wendy had just been a witness to. The werehorse’s eyes were wide with as she stared at her best friend.

“My lips are sealed,” Wendy stood brushing herself off. Her bouquet landed next to Virginia’s as she said a little Buddhist prayer. More people were coming up the hill; the couple who Glen had spoken to very studiously avoided Virginia as she made her way back down. Wendy watched her go right past Glen without a second glance. He had suggested that they try for another baby and she said no. But it wasn’t just a no; Virginia’s heart wouldn’t survive another loss and Glen just didn’t understand. Sometimes being clairvoyant was just another way to spy on one’s friends and look for a hole were one might be able to help.

* * *

At that precise moment, however, Peter wished he was able to read his bosses mind, as infinitesimal as it was.

“But the product works,” Peter demanded. He had been sitting across from the head of his research department. Now he was standing across from him.

“Our backers don’t want a cure, they want money. Curing HIV will end up costing them billions,” Mr., Moss said from behind the safety of his large oak desk, round hands on the high polished wood.

“So that’s it? You’ll stop the treatment because you’ll lose funding?” Peter was outraged, “there are tons of parent companies who would love to back our research. There are people who want a cure.”

“There isn’t enough money in that. Our backers, however, have requested that we stop all lab tests, pull the meds from those in our case study and move on,” Mr. Moss sat his nicely rounded rump in his imported Italian chair.

“They can’t do that,” Peter shouted, “What if our test subjects die because they were taken off of the meds? They are people, not lab rats.”

“That is a risk they took when they signed on for the case study,” Mr. Moss looked at Peter with a weighing gaze, “Your friend is participating, right? I hope for his sake that there aren’t any lasting effects from this. And for what it’s worth I’m sorry.”

“The hell you are!” Peter hadn’t felt like hitting someone this much since high school. Then, he got suspended. Now he would get fired. Mr. Moss looked at him questioningly and, Peter realized, he had a target on his face. Rosacea ringed his head, followed by a smaller ring of white and his bulbous nose sat in the center of his face, red as a cherry lined with blue capillaries. Peter sat down in very controlled movements.

“Could we petition?” He asked finally.

Mr. Moss rubbed his temples, “I’ll bring it up to the board about that. I know how much this project means to you.”

“Thank you,” Peter stood and left. He didn’t want to be trapped with Mr. Moss anymore. The man was a bastard with an annoyingly tempting bull’s eye on his face. He had to go meet with Wendy, she had promised to look up his problem and see what could be done.

Peter’s mother sat in the lobby of his research department, much to his surprise. She sat up straight as always, thin small book grasp delicately in her left hand as the right lay over her wrist. Her honey wood colored hair was pulled away from her face in a bun- or twist- that probably took the maid a while to do.

“Mother?” Peter subconsciously checked to make sure his turtle neck was covering the feathers up to his chin. Morgan had fixed his hair so it covered those encroaching on his face. He felt like is was living in a scuba mask.

“Peter,” She stood, smoothing a hand down her cream and tweed skirt suit, “you need to get your hair cut.” Her hand went out to push a lock back but Peter took it.

“Have you eaten lunch yet? I’m famished,” he inquired politely.

“No, actually I haven’t.”

“Why don’t we go? I know a restaurant you would probably enjoy.”

Jeniana smiled gently at her son, “There is no need to stand on attention with me, your father isn’t here.”

“Yes mother,” Peter smiled back. Separately, his parents were good people. They just caused him a massive head ache when they were together, “It’s not high class but the food is good and the place is clean.”

Jeniana chuckled, “I’ll have you know I slummed a some when I was younger.” Her idea of slumming was shopping at Macy’s, but Peter let it slide. They exited the building, making their way to the parking garage and into Peter’s awaiting Saturn. His mother took her seat on the passenger’s side and waited for Peter to close the door for her before he got into the driver’s side.

They sped off into the city. The restaurant was one Morgan had taken him to when they were in college.

Jeniana’s eyes moved to her son as he drove. There was something different about him, like something that had been weighing on his mind was gone. She felt the need to say as much to him.

“Nothing’s really changed,” He gave her a side glance and smile; “I just figured something out for myself. Indecently, what was the reason for coming to see me?”

“I needed to speak with you about Miranda.” Now there’s his favorite subject. “I had hoped that you two would get along so when we told you about the engagement, you would be more receptive. But you don’t want to marry her, do you?”

“Not really,” Peter tried to keep his voice neutral.

“Why?” She looked at his profile. Peter was lucky his Heterochromia wasn’t as bad as it could have been. One hazel eye was better than pale blue or white. He had perfect vision as well. The doctors had called it a blessing. She was just happy that it was hazel (her eyes) and brown (Charles’ eyes). There would be no question about his parentage.

“I don’t want to merry someone who will…” Peter trailed off. He couldn’t say it. Not to her. Not with the kind of marriage she’d had.

Jeniana finished for him, “who will make you miserable?” Peter nodded once. “Unlike my parents, I do care about your happiness. Do you really think that you and Miranda wouldn’t suit?”

“No,” Peter shook his head, “It’s… how do I put this… We’re too different. Every time I’m with Miranda, I feel as though she’s trying to push my brain out through my nose.” Jeniana politely stifled back a laugh behind her hand.

“Her parents will be upset. I think they rather liked the idea of you as a son in law,” She said at last.

“Nah, I’m sure they’ll find someone much better for her. In fact I think there’s a rich geriatric in a coma in the hospital my company is working with.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” His mother arched her eyebrow, “I also want to talk about this curse you’ve been put under.”

Peter should have known this was coming. “It’s not really a curse so much as a divine intervention.” He knew his mother was religious, that kind of reasoning would be right up her alley. She tried to instill a sense of God in her son from a very early age, but he had always been resistant.

“Meaning?” Was it his imagination, or was his mother suddenly very interested in this?

“I went to a witch for a spell and something happened to make the spell change. It wasn’t anything the witch did, the Gods just wanted to make their presence known.”

Jeniana was quite for a time, watching San Francisco go past her window. They turned down Stockton Street and parked. Peter got out and rushed to his mother’s door, opening it for her.

“What was the spell?” Jeniana asked after they were seated. The restaurant was a family owned upscale Mexican eatery. Peter’s friend Mormon (or whatever the queer’s name was) must have taken him here. She had met him a few times and he was nice enough, but she didn’t want her son to become gay. He had responsibilities and becoming gay would just stand in the way of them.

“You would most likely think it’s stupid,” Peter dodged the question with a small wave of his hand.

“Peter, I could never think less of you,” Jeniana said gripping his moving hand.

“I was using magic to scientifically prove a theory. I don’t really know what growing a plume will prove but the Powers That Be seem to think it holds relevance,” Peter perused the menu. He could feel his mother looking at him. She wanted to ask what it was that he was trying to disprove. Glancing up, Peter could see the want to be proper and the want to pry fight behind her eyes.

Finally she sighed, “We’ll discuss this later.”

“I sure we will,” Peter smiled at her jokingly, “What you going to eat?”

Jeniana made a face, “I haven’t a clue.”

“The burritos are good here; you could try one of those?”

“I think I will.”

“So what is this Wendy like?” Jeniana asked after they finished their meal. That was, in all honesty, the best burrito she had ever eaten. Peter commented that he had never seen anyone eat a burrito with a knife and fork. She could hear the smile in his voice although he didn’t hold one on his face. Maybe he was right, Miranda would just suffocate Peter. He had mentioned something about a rich geriatric, right?

“I’m not in love with Wendy,” Peter smiled at his mother, “She’s the witch who’s working with me to get rid of my problem. I was trying to say anything I could to get Miranda to leave me alone. It was a dirty trick, I know.”

“I see. Miranda doesn’t seem to like her very much, or anyone at that temple, for that matter,” Peter’s mother sighed.

“I don’t think they like her either.” Peter looked at his watch, “I should probably take you back to the office so Simmons can take you to where you are off to next.” He stood and moved toward the door but stopped when he realized his mother wasn’t behind him. Peter turned to look at her curiously.

“I don’t like Diana.” She said truthfully, “The woman needs to get herself to the Betty Ford center before she dies of liver failure.”

“Mother?” Peter looked at her as she took his arm too be led out to the car.

“I’m going to tell you something I haven’t told another living soul,” She sighed wistfully, “I’ve loved Arthur since we were teenagers. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’ve never told him but it hurts my heart to see him tethered to Diana. I sometimes look at him and think ‘how would our lives had been if I were with him and Charles was with Diana?’ I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“How come you’re telling me this?” Peter asked as they neared his car.

“Because I think I know why you went to the witch. But even if I can’t be with him, I stayed close to him and Diana so that if he should ever need me, I’ll be there for him. I carry the weight of our unrequited love because I choose to. Love is the most wonderful pain anyone can experience.” Jeniana’s eyes misted a bit as a tiny smile appeared on her face. Peter decided to just drive. This situation was just getting worse and worse. His mother laid her hand over Peter’s where it rested on the gear shift. He gripped her fingers in return.