Rose drained her mug of beer. She held up a defiant finger, as though using it to counter what Scribe was saying.
“I don’t believe that,” she said. “And I don’t think you do, either. Why would you have an exclusive bar for sprytes and demons if you had to worry about them snapping at any time?”
“Because there’s good money in it, and I’m business minded,” said Scribe. “The Champion Authority isn’t very active in small towns like Vanderbrook. When our people flee the big cities where the champions have control, they come looking for places like this.”
“This is all just conjecture,” said Rose. “You don’t know for sure that there isn’t a way for us to live without having these… episodes, or whatever you call them.”
Scribe started laughing. She shook her head slowly, and waved a finger at Rose.
“We’ve had this conversation before, almost verbatim,” said Scribe. “It’s all in my notes. I write everything down. The reason we have episodes, the reason we became like this in the first place, is because of who we are. Our habits, our personalities… those don’t change, Rose. That’s the trap.”
“How can you believe that?” snapped Rose.
Scribe shrugged.
“They call us monsters,” she said. “Me? I think we’re just unlucky. When normal people without powers become ‘monsters’, there’s only so much damage they can do. We’re just better at it than they are.”
Rose glared at Scribe. She was about to say something else when a heavy hand settled on Malcolm’s shoulder and lifted him roughly off his stool.
“You aren’t a fucking spryte or demon,” said Bicep, holding him aloft. “I figured as much when I first saw you, but Bender says he recognizes you from the news. You’re a fucking champion.”
The bar went silent. A few other demons stood up. Malcolm thought that they were going to help break the fight up, but only until he saw their faces.
Uh-oh. I don’t think they take kindly to champions sneaking into their space.
“Let him go!” Rose pulled a couple of tendrils of shadow and tried to loosen Bicep’s grip.
He was stronger than he looked, which surprised Malcolm, and kept his hold. Another demon, a green skinned man with a long tongue, snuck up behind Rose and seized her by the arms.
“Hey!” shouted Malcolm. “Enough!”
“You don’t get to say when it’s enough!” snapped Bicep. “And besides, she’s one of us. When I’m done with you, I’m going to show her what she’s been missing out on, whether she likes it or not.”
Malcolm grabbed onto Bicep’s wrist with his free hand and felt the sudden, familiar tingle as he absorbed his power. The sensation spread through his entire body, and over the course of about five seconds, several hundred new muscles burst into existence under his skin.
It was enough for him to rip out of all his clothing but his boxers, like Bruce Banner turning into The Incredible Hulk. The stabilizer was still on his wrist, stretching slightly to accommodate his added bulk and probably sparing his life. Bicep stared at him in disbelief. Malcolm was taller now, too. His feet reached the floor, and his eyes were level with Bicep’s.
“Fuck you!” shouted Bicep. He tried to twist Malcolm to the ground. Malcolm slammed a shoulder into him, reaching out for the wind at the same time and throwing in a gust for extra power.
He flipped Bicep around, slamming him through a bar table. The green demon holding Rose tried to get an arm around her neck. Malcolm roared, feeling a sudden surge of bloodlust, and slammed his fist past Rose and into his head.
The green demon sailed across the bar, slamming into a brick wall and sliding down to the ground. Malcolm whirled, preparing to attack anyone else stupid enough to try him. Scribe jumped out from behind the bar, holding her hands up in the universal sign of surrender.
“Please!” she said. “The fight’s over! Please, don’t break anything else!”
“Where is the heat demon?” asked Malcolm. “Tell me!”
Why am I so angry right now? Is that part of this dude’s power?
“Hothead?” asked Scribe. “He just got into town a day or two ago. He was only in here for a minute. I swear, if I see him, I’ll get in touch with you! Just call the bar later and give me your number.”
“Malcolm…” Rose set her hand on one of his extremely muscled shoulders. Malcolm set his on top of it, and felt a surge as he absorbed her power in place of Bicep’s. He shrank back down to his normal size, feeling ridiculous in only his stretched-out boxers.
“Alright,” he said. “That… works. We’ll go now.”
He nodded to Rose, and the two of them hurried up the stairs.
The only thing that made the walk home bearable was the fog. Malcolm stayed close to Rose, and they both walked quickly. Besides the incident on their way out, he also knew that she’d be thinking about the things that Scribe had said.
“I don’t know if you should take her at her word,” he said, after a few minutes. “It sounds like she’s basing her assumptions off anecdotal evidence.”
“Maybe,” said Rose, in a quiet voice. “But maybe not.”
Malcolm wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“If I ever… have an episode,” said Rose. “And if it looks like I’m going to hurt, or kill people. I want you to be the one who does it.”
“Rose…”
“You’re a champion,” she said. “It’s your job. And I think… I’d rather have it be you than anyone else.”
“I’m not agreeing to that,” said Malcolm. “I think there is hope. We can find a solution, find a way to keep you from having another episode.”
“I don’t even remember,” whispered Rose. “How many people have I already killed, Malcolm?”
Again, he had no idea what to say. He reached over and squeezed her hand.
“I’m not giving up,” he said. “And if it does happen, I’ll chain you up in my bedroom, or something.”
Rose leaned her head from side to side and gave a tiny smile.
“I might like that, you know.”
CHAPTER 29
Malcolm put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt as soon as they were back in his apartment. Rose was folding her new wardrobe into neat piles when he came back out into the living room. She looked at him with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“So…” she said. “Do you want me to finish modelling my lingerie for you?”
Malcolm grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
She slipped into his room to change. Malcolm sat on the couch, and by the time she walked out in the skimpy underwear and fishnet stocking, he was already excited.
“I saw you eyeing that illusion spryte in the tavern, you know,” said Rose. “Do you think she can do for you what I can?”
Malcolm shook his head no, feeling a bit like a trained dog waiting on a treat. He decided to turn the tables a little bit as she walked toward him on the couch, pulling a gust of wind from behind her and knocking her into his lap.
“I think you’re falling for me,” he said, with a wink.
“You naughty boy.” She leaned in close, letting her hot breath tickle his neck. “Let’s see if you can make it through one of my lap dances without losing control early.”
Malcolm let out a low groan and ran his hands across her butt. His phone vibrated where it lay on the couch next to him, and he glanced over to see a text from Tapestry.
TAPESTRY: Are you up? I’m on my way over.
“Huh,” he muttered, picking up the phone.
“Let me guess,” said Rose. “Your champion mentor?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She said she’s on her way over but… I could always just pretend that I’m asleep.”
He ran his hands across Rose’s hips, feeling her grind her crotch against his hardness.