by Lucian Bane
“Where to?” She immediately started the vehicle while Kane bubbled with introductions in the back seat, thankfully oblivious to the danger they were under.
“Anywhere away from here, as fast as you can but not too fast.”
“Roger that, Mr. Poe.” She angled her head and looked out the window and pulled into traffic. “Seat belts!” she yelled as she went.
Poe looked over his shoulder at the girl. “We’re going to a safer place.” Poe kept his voice soft and soothing, not wanting to accidentally inject the wrong power into his words. Instead of being low on energy, it felt like he had an overabundance.
Aren’t we the sweet host.
Poe looked at his Scribbler, noticing her eyeing their new passenger with suspicion in the rearview mirror.
“Where to now?” Scribbler said.
Poe removed his t-shirt, much to his disdain of having Scribbler see him. “Kane, can you look for me? Tell me what you see.”
Kane bounded up to his seat. “It changed again!” he exclaimed. “There’s another one.”
Show off. Getting naked for your newest friend I see.
Poe could hardly believe his Scribbler had just thought that. Just when in his time with her, had he gotten naked for anybody but her?
Kane called out the coordinates and Scribbler typed them in to her little machine. Poe realized one thing. When he was angry with his Scribbler, that disease seemed to remain at bay. Maybe he could control this after all.
“Wow, if this is correct, the next Ark is only twenty-two miles from here.”
Finally, a favorable outcome. “We pick them up and—”
“And then we stop. Kane needs to eat.” Your world saving will have to wait.
Poe shook his head, astonished with her selfishness.
“What!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Nothing? You’ve been being an ass all morning,” she whispered now. “And you will be telling me what your problem is, first chance.”
“I most certainly will, Ms. Howe. Or Briggs. Or whatever name you’re currently going under. Is my name still Jeramiah Poe by the way, or have you changed that?”
“Oh real funny.”
“It’s not funny at all, Scribbler.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said quietly. “And lower your voice, I don’t want Kane hearing us argue.”
“I’m not arguing with you, Scribbler.”
“Good, Poe.” Put your shirt on for crying out loud.
Poe winced and closed his eyes when he sensed where his Scribbler’s thoughts went. She’d called up images of what they’d done the night before and while she didn’t think about them, she was experiencing it and he was feeling that.
Quarks, he was more broken since she fixed him! She’d fixed him alright. Fixed him to be broken for good. She was a Scribbler witch, is what she was. How utterly disappointing she was.
Twenty miles later, Scribbler pulled up at a gas station. He looked at her.
“I need gas,” she said defensively. Not like you care if I’m starving or thirsty.
A pang of guilt hit him at the idea, as she got out and mumbled outside the vehicle. Instead of going in the store, she got in and drove off.
“I paid with a card,” she explained to him.
“Weren’t you thirsty?”
She eyed him with a narrowed, maybe suspicious gaze. “Why do you even ask that?”
“I just thought you might be,” he said.
“Is that a fact?” she muttered, pulling back onto the road then whispering, “If I find out you’re somehow in my head listening? You’re in super big trouble, mister.”
Poe looked out the window. “Don’t worry, Ms. Howe. Your thoughts are safe with me.”
She gaped. “So you are?”
“You’re my Scribbler. I hear some things.”
“Define some!”
He angled a look at her. “Not all.”
“Okay, Mr. Obtuse. You will be explaining exactly what you mean by that.” She suddenly jerked the vehicle right. “This is the exit.”
They drove a few more miles and she pulled up at a rundown house. “Lock the doors, geeze,” she muttered. “You’re not just going to go in there without finding out…”
Poe opened the door, already securing the shields around them and the house. It seemed to be getting easier somehow. He didn’t understand it but he was grateful. Before shutting the door, he looked back at his Scribbler. “Everybody stay put. Doors remain locked.” He looked in the back seat at the two Arks and Kane who chattered nonstop to Lark.
He realized he hadn’t blocked his Scribbler’s voice when he heard, you sure do like to look at her a lot, Mr. Non-Romance. Poe lowered his head and shook it barely, not understanding why she said half the things she did. They made exactly no sense. And to think she’d created him. He added the annoyance to that thing inside him that seemed to help keep that disease at bay. It wasn’t easy. His mind bombarded him constantly with flammable images that he was having to dispel. He was getting better at it, and he attributed that to the increase of power he felt.
Shutting the door, he headed toward the home, keeping to the power grid he laid out. He’d reorganized the atoms and molecules after coating them with reversal energy, creating a façade or mirage, a corridor hidden within a corridor of duplicated yet reflective space.
Knocking on the door, he probed the space beyond the walls, his ears picking up on sounds that sent his disease exploding inside him. The smell of something strange hit his nose hard and he wrinkled it. Four humans inside. Two female, two male. Poe stood transfixed, listening to the humans engaging in sexual acts, his body ensnared with unravelling the puzzle of what they were doing exactly. He fought to lower the volume on his keen hearing.
The brilliant idea to knock sent his fist pounding on the door.
The sounds stopped immediately, thank Octava, followed by harsh whisperings and feet scurrying as though he might barge in unannounced. Poe waited, looking around at the filthy neighborhood that was not far off from something you’d see in the horror genre.
Poe knocked a second time, louder and longer. He realized the feet shuffling got farther away then came the distinct sound of a door closing. Poe hurried around the house and rounded the corner in time to see four people running for a half standing fence.
The second Poe looked at the man, his name came to him. “Lucas!”
The man turned, frozen in a crouched position and Poe held a hand to him, slowing his steps. “I just want to talk to you.”
The man gradually straightened, responding to the power in Poe’s words. Poe waited as he headed back to him. With every step he took, Poe was given the summary of his life, one year at time, until the seventh year—then the slate was blank. The man finally stood before him, eyes full of confusion.
“I’m Jeramiah Poe.” He held his hand out to him.
The guy looked down at it and Poe felt him knowing he was supposed to take it then wondering why he knew that. When he put his hand in his, Poe gripped hard and injected a coded power into him that would require his complete and peaceful compliance.
“I need your help,” Poe said, releasing him then.
The guy suddenly looked worried and shook his head. “Me? I don’t know man, I don’t really know how to do anything. I mean I don’t have any skills, you know?” He said this with an easy smile, like he hoped this didn’t ruin his chances at what he felt was a great opportunity even if he had no clue what Poe wanted or needed him for. “I been reading a lot though.” He shot his brows up. “Got a library card just last week.” He nodded and sniffed, digging his wallet out and fishing a card out, showing him. “See? I got a plan. Gonna get my act together, get a real job. Settle down somewhere.” He folded the tattered black wallet and returned it to his tattered back pocket before angling a gaze at him. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet. But you will soon.”
The man smiled as though completely fine wit
h that. “Cool deal.” He shot his hand out to him for another hand shake. “I’m a real fast learner too. Don’t mind working for food and shelter.” Poe shook his hand again, injecting him with a little confidence. “Or just to help even, I think this world could stand a little selfless giving if you know what I mean?”
Poe nodded. “Indeed I do.”
Lucas put his hands back in his pockets with an eager laugh. “Indeed you do.” He held a big smile, showing nicotine stained teeth and a life of very little personal hygiene.
Poe glanced at his friends who huddled in worry at the fence behind them. “Do you wish to let them know?”
The man glanced back then at Poe and gave a careless shrug. “Nah. They don’t care.”
A sting hit Poe at realizing how true that was. And how numb the man was to it. They headed back to the vehicle and the man began rattling, “I feel as though I know you. It’s so weird. Nice vehicle, wow,” he said when they got to it.
“Listen,” Poe said quietly before opening the door. “There are four people in this vehicle. The woman driving is my Scribbler. The youngest boy is Kane, he’s…” Poe thought about it. “He’s like a son to me. The other boy is Cado, a male of about fourteen and there’s a female of maybe twenty, named Lark. Cado and Lark both have the same unanswered questions that you do, and I need you to not ask anything until I can answer them for all of you. You okay with that?”
A wave of dizzy hit Poe and Lucas grabbed his arm. “You okay man? Yeah I’m fine, no questions, I got your back.”
Poe shook his head to clear it and the shield vibrated with the movement. “Get in.” Poe opened the back door, glad to see Cado and Lark had made room. Lucas hopped in and Poe shut the door before opening his own and falling into the passenger seat. “Drive. Quickly.”
Scribbler didn’t ask questions—out loud—she just did as he asked, thankfully. Poe laid his head back on the seat, fighting to hold his shields. They shuddered like thin metal in a windstorm making Poe grab his head when the shuddering became a fierce walloping sound.
“Poe? Are you okay?”
He barely heard the words above the noise. “Just drive,” he yelled, thinking she couldn’t hear.
Suddenly the noise stopped. Poe listened to the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, followed by the sounds of his Scribbler’s. His senses… they were too sharp.
“I think I need to eat,” he realized out loud. “And sleep maybe.” His human body was overloaded. He could feel it at the edges of the power, especially in the silence, the brief reprieve. His body trembled in strain and he wondered just how close to shut down it was. “I need to sleep,” he whispered, leaning forward. But he needed to hold the shields.
“Kane,” Poe said when he felt the tattoo tingling.
“I’m here, Mr. Poe.”
His voice sounded worried and Poe reached a hand back and rubbed the boy’s hair. “Tell me what you see.” Poe grabbed at his shirt behind him and pulled it up.
“There’s two this time,” Kane said excited, then gave the symbols and their coordinating numbers to Scribbler.
She typed it into her machine while driving. “That’s only an hour away,” she said. “But food first.”
“Yes,” Poe agreed, relieved. “Food first.”
Chapter Eighteen
Fifteen minutes later, Poe took the first bite of food and his body and mind lurched for so much more. “I need more food,” he said after consuming his entire meal.
“Okay…” Scribbler sounded astonished as she pressed the button for service again.
“I feel like I’ve been teased with a morsel of bread.”
“Wow. Your appetite is growing.”
“I’m starving and yet my clothes are strangling my body.”
“Your… hair seems longer too. Could you possibly be growing?”
“I certainly hope not, I’m large enough!” The idea that any part of him might grow—particularly that abominable limb between his legs—made him severely irate.
Three burgers and two large French fries later, he felt he’d reached the outer edges of only half-starved. Was there no bottom in his stomach?
“Now can we go to the hotel?” Kane asked eagerly. “One with a big TV and games!”
“I think that would be fine,” Scribbler said joyfully while eying Poe for confirmation.
He nodded, laying his head back. “I need to try to rest.” Before I accidentally kill something.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
He glanced at her, curious over her sudden concern for anything but her… sexuality. “I have enough energy to cloak the entire Earth at this time, I think we’re fine.”
She started the vehicle. “Wow. That’s a lot of energy.”
“Just hurry. I need to not sit another second more.”
“Hurrying now.” She pulled out then spoke into her machine. “Nearest hotel please.” A jerky mechanical voice gave out directions. “Only two miles to touch down my dear Poe. Hold on tight.” She drove quickly and Poe couldn’t help but be grateful. “Maybe a vigorous swim or workout might help you?”
Poe stifled a growl at what his body demanded of him, what that disease demanded of him. Now that his stomach was somewhat sated, it was either worse or he was more aware of it. And his sense perceptions were off the charts in various departments, smell especially, with his Scribbler’s scent making him… impossibly ravenous.
Three rooms, that’s what he insisted on this time because he needed his own space, and he wanted Kane with him—not three strangers. The other woman could stay with Scribbler and the two males had the third room. Despite the fact that Kane was right at home with each of them, Poe didn’t need to worry about whether the happy serum he’d coated his collected Ark’s minds with would fail somehow.
But of course his Scribbler saw fit to have issue with his idea. “I don’t want to sleep with a stranger.”
Poe would argue what was he except he knew better to draw the erroneous comparison. “Well do you want four rooms?”
She choked. “Are you paying for all of this?”
“You’ll have to charge it to my Octava account, or take it out of my ass by finishing my story.”
She gasped. “You cussed! Fine, four rooms, but you need to not bring my work into every argument, dearest Poe!”
And yet they argued about it all the way until he was entering his room. “Your insufficient funds?”
Scribbler entered his room after him and shut the door, raising his guards as she faced him with hands on her hips. “Fine, I’m rich, but does that mean I have to spend my money however you say? I’m the Scribbler here, you’re the…” she wagged her finger over him, “the scribbled.”
In a burst of anger, Poe injected his power into his words. “I am the Muse Master, Scribbler. And it will be as I say.”
She gasped. “Over my dead body!”
Poe drew back a little, shocked that she’d just openly resisted his power as though it were nothing. Why in the worlds wouldn’t it work with her?
“What’s wrong? You seem surprised!” She pointed at him and Poe suddenly felt trapped. “And explain to me what you’re doing with my thoughts?”
“Explain what you’re doing with them,” he countered.
“Me?!”
“You’re suddenly projecting them right into my head. Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to hear your every intimate and deceptive thought?”
Her mouth dropped and her brows drew together. Poe’s anger faltered in the sudden swimming scent of her and for the first time that day, his gaze travelled below her face. It was there, in the valley of cleavage doom that he slipped and fell. Fell hard.
She seemed to sense it and took a step back. Poe fought for the anger defense. “You played a very naughty game with me, Scribbler.” His anger no longer served him the way he needed but instead seemed to make the disease more… volatile. He took a step toward her and seeing her take a step in reverse, licked at some hungry powe
r inside him. “You played the innocent teacher didn’t you, Scribbler. You played with your naïve student, helping him with his issue, didn’t you?”
Her back was against the door and she stared up at him, breaths coming rapidly. But right there in her fear, he smelled it, saw it, tasted it. That… thing. That very craft she’d used with him to beguile him into submission to its will. Poe wanted to do things to her for that. Poe wanted to return the favor only he didn’t want it to feel good. He wanted it to burn endlessly in a way she’d be sorry and swear to never do it again.
He no longer cared to resist the power roaring through him, hungry, angry. It didn’t just want her, it wanted to control her. Dear divinities, he recognized that power. The Muse Rider’s power. It pounded with a ferocity in all the wrong ways and places with a will that burned to be executed without an ounce of mercy.
With his mouth upon her cheek, and his hand at her throat, he clenched his fingers until he felt her pulse banging under them. The words in his mind no longer matched anything he coherently knew. “You wanted me enough to play the coy teacher? Was it fun? Did you have fun using me?” Poe pushed his leg between hers and pressed with enough force to make her gasp. “You had your way with me?”
She only answered with those moans and gasps, adding to his hunger. He released his tight hold on her neck and she cried out as he slid his fingers along the edge of her top. “You made me want it. You made me burn for it. Now I have to have it. And I will take it the way you did, only there will be no trickery about it.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
Poe sensed the answer was of her own accord, not his powers and it made him need to control more. “You even dressed the part, didn’t you? I heard all of your naughty thoughts Scribbler. You told on yourself.” He slid his nose along her face, smelling while moving his leg slowly against her. “How good it felt here. How hot. How much you loved it. Wanted it again. How you planned to seduce me with your tricks. You’re going to get it. You’ll get it how I say. Like I say. When I say, Scribbler. I am Jeramiah Poe. Muse Rider,” he whispered his lips over hers, “Diviner of Destinies… and you are my Muse.” He hovered at her parted lips, feeling the blast of her breath on his mouth as he moved his leg on her then abruptly removed it, bringing a sharp cry at disconnect.