Slim Chance

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three texts awaited Sean when he woke in the morning, all from Dane, all sent a few hours ago, probably when the Decrypter had been drinking enough to fall asleep. Sean glanced at them, requests to meet up with Dane when Sean wanted a break and go do something together—not sub-Lair cleaning, not Decrypting.

“Asshole,” muttered Sean, and tossed the phone down on his bed before heading to the shower. Dane would be so much easier to handle if it didn’t seem like he was trying, at least sometimes. Probably that had something to do with why they were still together. Whenever Sean started thinking they were both better off apart—Dane with someone closer to his own age, Sean with, well, the same—somehow Dane managed to rally his adult motivation and put forth the effort.

It was infuriating, and Sean knew it wasn’t healthy, but Dane brought something to his life he didn’t want to reject just yet. He didn’t like to think it was because Dane was in his late twenties and added a bit of youth to Sean’s life, but he wouldn’t object to it being the danger and mystery.

Against his better judgment, he sent, We’ll see. I have a meeting with the department chair today, in response. He dressed, made the bed, and went down to the kitchen to brew coffee and speed-grade the rest of the midterm papers. He made a second pot of coffee, ate leftover lasagna, and just finished posting students’ grades with ten minutes to spare before he needed to leave.

Where are we going? asked Chip as Sean pulled on his boots.

“You’re staying put,” said Sean, sighing at the thick sense of displeasure Chip shot his way. At first it had been a shock to learn he could communicate with the corn snake, then it had been fun, and now Sean wasn’t so sure about it. Chip was like a roommate who couldn’t do a damned thing for themself. No thumbs. Or hands. “I can’t take you to campus with me.”

Bring me back something tasty and terrified, said the snake.

Sean rolled his eyes and headed out.

The department chair, Seth Smith, liked to touch base with professors and instructors at midterms in person. It was a bit of an inconvenience, but he always had coffee and doughnuts available and he went to the good bakery in Bleu Falls. As Sean sat in front of Seth’s desk and helped himself to cloud-soft sugary fried dough, he wondered how offended Dane would feel about him salivating over another baker’s goods. Sean smirked, looked up at Seth, and nearly choked.

He’d met this man hundreds of times before—Seth had a slender, almost bony appearance but otherwise looked ordinary—only today, he wasn’t Seth. Before Sean sat a nightmare. Where the man had been long and thin, he now seemed to stretch, limbs and fingers unrealistically lengthy, torso too slight to hold his necessary organs. And his face…was unrecognizable, absent. Sean couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t smudged out, exactly—it simply didn’t exist.

The crystal warmed in his pocket. Sean put his hand to it to steady himself. He hadn’t seen Seth Smith since before his witch powers properly awakened, and he feared what this meant. But he couldn’t let on, so he picked an area in the nothingness that could have held the man’s eyes, and forced himself to relax.

“I’d ask why so nervous, Sean,” said Seth. Even his voice sounded different, stretched out, like being tugged through some kind of effects manipulator. “But I’m sure you know I’ve been receiving emails from students concerned about their grades.”

“I’ve finished all the midterm papers and everything’s up-to-date,” said Sean. The crystal in his pocket grounding him didn’t seem like enough. His mind felt foggier, slower than normal, and his sinuses ached. “All students are currently able to see where they stand at this half-point.”

“And you feel prepared for your eight-week course starting next week?”

Shit. Sean had forgotten about it, but he nodded. He and Seth seemed to talk a little more, but it was all in a slow kind of haze. Then the department chair said something that made more of an impression.

“Is there anything going on in your personal life you’d like to discuss, anything causing you difficulties?”

“What?” asked Sean.

Seth leaned forward on his desk, bringing his now-monstrous face closer to Sean than ever. Sean had the impression he was smirking, somehow, and it only caused him more confusion. He pressed harder on the crystal in his pocket.

“Frankly, I remember how it was a decade or so ago,” said Seth. “I struggled with my age, where I was going in life—”

“I’m not having a midlife crisis,” said Sean, feeling himself heat. He wished people would stop suggesting it.

Seth sat back.

“Fair enough,” he said. He moved on, to what, Sean wasn’t sure. His mind seemed to fog out again.

And then the meeting was over, and Sean found himself in the corridor outside Seth Smith’s office, still holding half a doughnut in his hand. He blinked, dazed, at the ugly brick of the walls, trying to process what had happened with his slowed mind. One thing stood out to him: Seth’s monstrous face. Or, it would have had anything been there.

Sean walked back to his car slowly, finishing off the doughnut as he went. This was definitely something to tell Dane about, but he was still pissed at the Decrypter. He didn’t want to go to his Guild for answers, either, and have to admit he was so far behind in his studies. He unlocked his car, got in, and started it, his options dwindling. Who did he even know?

He needed an oil change, and as if his mind suddenly cleared, he realized he could get that seen to and ask a few questions about what he’d seen looking at Seth. He drove to Lynne’s, not the side of town that was closest, but he didn’t much care. When he pulled in the garage lot looked overrun with shitty vehicles, as usual. He talked to one of the mechanics about an oil change, handed over his keys, and made his way to the creepy looking door behind which Javalynne had her office.

“What do you want?” she asked when she opened the door to him.

Sean winced. Javalynne was a Hmong woman in her fifties and carried a javelin, and he knew she knew how to use it. The smell of burnt coffee rolled out from the office around her, assaulting Sean’s nose, and he placed his hand on his crystal to steady himself. Lynne took this in with a flick of her eyes, then, seemingly deciding she wanted to talk to him anyway, stepped back.

“Shut the door behind you,” she said, moving behind her desk and reaching for a chipped mug with the cursive logo, “Lynne’s,” on it. “Coffee?”

“Yes, thanks,” said Sean, even knowing how shitty this burnt coffee was bound to be. Maybe it would help clear his mind a little. He sat in the old chair in front of her desk and she banged the mug down in front of him before crossing her arms and examining him again.

“Well? Has Sanders got himself into some trouble I should report to the Order?”

Sean shook his head, had a sip of coffee, and shook his head harder. Lynne was also a member of the Order, although she didn’t see active duty so much as dispense weaponry.

“Dane’s fine, as far as I know.”

“The hell are you doing in my office? Weapons? Technically I’m not supposed to sell to witches without special permissions—”

“No,” said Sean, and cringed again. He set the coffee down, stomach churning. “I…have questions.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow, no doubt wondering why he couldn’t have gone to his Guild, but she didn’t press. Sean knew she liked him, as far as Lynne let on she liked anyone, but he likewise knew he shouldn’t try her patience. Still, he wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. He rubbed his forehead, the side of his nose. His sinuses still ached. Maybe he was getting sick.

“You look like you just ran into a wall, so you’re not surprising me. What’s confusing you?”

Sean looked up at her, grabbed the coffee, and took two gulps. With Lynne, better to just spit it out, however it came out.

“I saw something weird while having a meeting with the department chair. At my school.” Sean had another gulp of coffee and described Seth as best he could before rubbing the side of his nose. “I shouldn’t bother you with it. I’m probably coming down with something.”

Something warm and wet dripped onto his palm and Lynne opened a drawer in her desk, pulled out an assortment of fast food napkins, and shoved them his way. Sean accepted them, pissed his nose decided to choose then to bleed. All the dry air from being indoors all winter must be getting to him. He shoved scratchy napkin under his nose and pinched the bridge, leaning back, aware Lynne was watching.

“Thanks,” he muttered, “Didn’t mean to bleed all over your office.”

Lynne dismissed that with a sharp hand motion.

“I’ve had all blood types and then some spilled in here at one point or another,” she said, leaning thoughtfully on her javelin. “You ought to tell your shitty boyfriend about this one.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

“You’re here why?” asked Lynne. She moved to top off Sean’s coffee and he silently despaired having to drink more of the burnt brew.

“Oil change.”

She gave him a look that said she was ignoring that.

“Get on speaking terms with him again and tell him. I’ll be reporting it to the Order, and he’ll look bad if he doesn’t have any plans on how to handle it.”

Sean checked his nose, found it had quit bleeding, and reached forward to grab the coffee mug.

“How to handle what, exactly?”

“A Lithe Fellow in the area,” said Lynne.

Whatever a Lithe Fellow was meant nothing to Sean. Lynne seemed peeved at his lack of reaction, so he lifted the mug and drank the entire thing in several gulps. He almost gagged.

“Thanks,” said Sean, standing before she could refill his mug again. “For the explanation, and the coffee.”

Lynne didn’t stop him from leaving.