Power Addict

Morgan met Peter late in the afternoon for dinner. Peter pulled the other man into his apartment like he’d just figured out how to make an atom bomb and the police were standing just outside.

“What is this about?” Morgan asked almost sarcastically. Peter wore a long sleeved shirt, which was odd because in seven years of friendship Morgan hadn’t seen him wear one before. It was a little lumpy too.

“I got cursed,” Peter said wrapping his arms around himself.

“Cursed?” Morgan asked. He knew a little something about curses. One usually did, when one had a gift for both placing and removing them. Apparently, magick was genetic in his family. His sister Hannah was a very powerful psychic. And his parents were respectively empathic (his father) and a telekinetic (his mother). But he didn’t…feel a curse on Peter.

“Let me see.” He said at last. Peter hesitantly pulled the turtle neck over his head. Morgan tried not to laugh. Whoever had done this was very good. The fine peaches and cream down covered Peter’s upper body like a pale orange sweater. It disappeared into his pants. Morgan was not going to follow. He may like men, but this was his best friend. They were like brothers. It would be like incest. Ew.

Morgan did however run his hand down the other man’s arm, “I’m sorry, I had to.” Yep, they were feathers.

“Can you fix it? The witch said I’d have to come back to her office at midnight to reverse whatever the hell she did.” Peter was obviously perturbed. With good reason, Morgan had to admit.

“Well,” Morgan looked at it more critically. Could he fix it? “No. Looks like you have a date tonight. Put your shirt on and let’s get dinner. I’m starved.” And off they went. Morgan refrained from telling Peter about the little pile of malted feathers he’d left behind.

“Oh my God,” The blond in Wendy’s office, probably witch friend, Sage Rainbowchild, said looking up from her Modern Witch Quarterly to the small clock on the waiting room wall. Peter was finding her high flaky voice grated on his nerves.

“Wendy’s almost never late. Not when she has an appointment”

“Is that so?” Peter raised an eyebrow looking at the clock. Twelve-ten. What the hell kind of person was she?

“Oh, hey,” Sage piped up again, her light green eyes alight with happiness, “I can give you her cell phone number.” She laughed, a particularly irritating sound, “It’s not protocol but that way you can actually get a hold of her and straighten this whole thing out.”

“Sure.” Anything to get her to stop talking.

“It’s five- four- one…”

“You know,” Peter interjected, “I can read it myself, thank you.”

“Okay, you know I just have to help when someone’s here…”

“I can take it from here. I don’t mind if you go back to your magazine.”

Sage laughed again, “I know you don’t like me. It’s so okay.”

“I… what?”

“Yeah, you don’t like the sound of my voice. Your energy swirls differently when I talk. But I can tell you’re trying hard to hide it. Old souls are like that.” She smiled serenely at his dumbfounded inability to speak, “I’ll just be over here reading.”

Peter dialed the number. Anything to take his mind off the scarily perceptive witch. The phone rang more times then necessary before Wendy answered with a very icy “If you’re not dying or bleeding profusely, I’m going to skin you alive with a rusted spoon.”

“You missed our appointment.” Peter was proud that his voice didn’t shake. The woman on the other end of the phone held quiet.
For a very, very long time.

Her voice was still dangerously low, “I’m sorry, (inserted comma) my best friend is currently in the hospital and hasn’t stopped bleeding for twelve hours. Please forgive me for forgetting about your damn feathers.”

“But… y-you made the appointment.” Peter stammered.

Again, silence. A male voice came on, “Wendy wants me to ask you to explain why you want her to leave the only person… what… oh… the only person who has been like a sister.”

“Um…”

“By the way,” He added, “the woman in the hospital bed happens to be my fiancé and she just lost her baby.”

“Will Wendy be in tomorrow?”

The man on the phone relayed Peter’s question.

“Yeah, later in the day. Around two or three.”

“I’ll just see her tomorrow.” Peter hung up.

“That was a low blow.” Glen said to Wendy handing her cell phone back.

“I did what I had to.” She replied looking and (at) Virginia who was still bleeding. Henry had assured both worried adults that is was just blood she would have excreted naturally with her menstrual cycle. It came as little comfort. Wendy looked at Glen. He was one of the only family members who she hadn’t punished for December. Oh wait, she had castigated him. Just not too often.

“Glen,” Wendy looked at him. The man in question looked at her with his odd gray eyes. They probably wouldn’t be so odd if his hair wasn’t snow white or his skin wasn’t that ethereal pale peach.

“Do you remember when the WAMA meeting was called for Kyle and Desiree?”

“Yes, of course.” Glen looked confused. How could he forget the largest were-animal/ magick alliance meeting in years. Besides which, it was only two years ago.

“Kyle was still jumpy from every thing December made me do to him. But I’d have never done it on my own. She made me…” Wendy looked uncomfortable as she searched for the right words.

“Torment us.” Glen added stone faced. He watched as her eyes darkened with sadness and panic making them almost a natural shade of brown.

“So you are afraid of me.”

Glen cocked his head to the side, “I thought all women liked being feared. They are the world leaders.”

“Hey!” Wendy looked at him, “There was a time when men ruled. You all had your chance. Their recklessness nearly-”

“I took history in school too. I know. We man-folk nearly destroyed the planet. Damn nuclear weapons.” Glen tried to joke. “The girls took away our guns and made the boys go sit in the corner.”

“Not all the world leaders are women though. The presidents of Spain and Hungary are male.” Wendy rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “That’s not the point. The point is, do you feel you can trust me?”

“Yes,” Glen said too quickly. Wendy looked him with rapidly blinking terrified eyes. Glen hesitantly put his arm around her. This was not time to be squeamish.

“You wouldn’t have hurt any of us on your own. We all know that. Kyle… he’s just… jumpy because he was December’s ‘favorite’.” Glen said quietly. His eyes stayed on his fiancé, her face pale. She was still sweating. Virginia hadn’t ever been hurt by December. And for that, Glen was grateful.