by Liam Lawson
“I’ve healed her,” Lilian said, looking up from her mother for the first time. “Nothing seems to be wrong, physically—what the hells happened to you?” Her hand shot up to point to Trorm’s neck.
Trorm’s hand flew up to slap over the place where Oana had kissed him. “Nothing.”
Abigail and Nymal turned their attention to him.
“Show me,” Lilian demanded.
Trorm was too tired to argue. Besides which, it wasn’t like he could go around concealing his neck forever. He let his hand fall away.
“Oh, that just—come on!” Lilian said, slumping down. “Really?”
“I don’t see anything,” Nymal said, leaning in close to examine Trorm’s neck.
That was a relief. Trorm had half been afraid he’d ended up with some kind of kiss shaped tattoo on his neck.
“What is it?” Abigail asked.
“He’s been blessed by Oana,” Lilian said sourly. “The freaking goddess of hedonism. She marked him and he’s living in our house.” She turned her gaze toward the heavens. “Thodos, did I do something to offend you?”
“Who’s offended who now?” said Trisha-who-might-be-Trixiel, her eyes fluttering open.
Lilian held up a hand to forestall Abigail, who looked like she’d been intending to pull their mother into an embrace. “What’s your name?”
“Trisha Madden,” Trisha said, brow furrowed. “Wha—”
Lilian pointed at Abigail. “What’s her name?”
Trisha blinked. “Abigail. Lilian, what’s going on?”
Trisha Madden
Gender: Female
Emotion: CONFUSED. CONCERNED.
Interest Level: 4
“It’s her,” Trorm said. He’d learned to trust his sunglasses.
Lilian pulled her mother into an embrace and began weeping. “Thank Thodos. You’re all right. You’re all right.”
Police cruisers arrived then and officers, both local and campus poured out. Black SUVs and a pair of helicopters followed. Men in suits got out of the unmarked cars with unimpressive looking guns, wands, and swords that Trorm knew were anything but. The group was promptly arrested.
Trorm fell asleep in the interrogation room and awoke an unknown amount of time later when a police officer was uncuffing him from the table at the direction of a woman in a skirt suit that was far too sexy to be professional.
The woman was in her early thirties and stunning with an hourglass figure and her blonde hair done up in an elegant, slightly messy style. She glared at the officer over glasses that made her both stern and sexy at the same time. Her skirt was high enough that Trorm could see the tops of her thigh high stockings and she didn’t seem to be wearing a blouse underneath her suit jacket. She wore a necklace from which dangled the holy symbol for Oana.
“You, my dear Mr. Coldstorm, are going to the hospital,” she said, moving around to his side and helping him to his feet.
Trorm’s legs didn’t seem to want to support him. He tried to say something and all that came out was a string of gibberish.
“Definitely a hospital,” she said with a decisive nod and a glare at the officer who’d uncuffed him. He’d been checking out her ass and his face went red at her glare and he seemed to shrink in on himself. She returned her attention to Trorm. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Mr. Coldstorm. My name is Cherry Tempest. I’m part of the church of Oana’s legal team and I’ve been directed by the goddess herself to be your legal champion.”
Trorm blinked at her stupidly. She was a lawyer? She looked like she’d been heading off to make a porno. “That’s…good.”
It was good, wasn’t it? Did he need a champion? He staggered and she caught him. Maybe just this once.
Chapter Twenty
The next week went by in a blur.
Trom was in and out of sleep for the first two days or so while he was hooked up to dozens of monitors, put on an IV drip, and plied with more healing potions than he could keep track of. He was fairly sure that he could have left by the third day, but both the hospital and his new legal counsel advised against it.
Cherry Tempest was not at all what Trorm thought was a typical lawyer in Aflana, but she was effective and for all that she dressed like she was going to an exceptionally provocative photoshoot, she was good at her job. It was a lot like having a sexy attack warg. She was all soft words and caresses around Trorm, only to whirl upon some unfortunate victim and savage them to tears. Trorm watched this happen several times.
Once with a nurse who muttered something about orcs he didn’t quite make out, twice with a pair of detectives who wanted to question him, three times with other legal representatives, and most brutally of all with a reporter who tried to sneak into his room. That woman left weeping after Ms. Tempest—please call me Cherry, Mr. Coldstorm—finished with her. There was something decidedly attractive about watching Cherry work that had nothing to do with her appearance or the fact that she was a cleric of Oana, though those things certainly added to the effect.
Apparently, there’d been a lot of pressure to find a villain to pin the entire debacle on and a few people had decided that he’d make a good scapegoat before she’d gotten hold of them. Now all the fault fell upon Soliana. Everyone in power was very happy about this as Soliana had not reverted to her proper age with the death of the living spell.
As a toddler who would remain so for years to come yet, she could hardly defend herself against their accusations. Legally, according to Cherry, it was a bit of a mess since the court was trying to decide whether or not she qualified as a minor and whether or not it was ethical to punish her at this point. Trorm honestly didn’t give a damn what they decided about Soliana so long as they left him the frozen hells alone.
After the three days of recovery, which Trorm hated, he was allowed visitors apart from his counselor, each of whom was cleared by Cherry and her legal team.
First came the Maddens. Cherry hadn’t wanted to let Trisha visit him but Trorm had overruled her. Abigail had hugged him, and Trisha hadn’t been able to stop apologizing. She had no memory of what she’d done while she’d been Trixiel. Lilian had been more subdued, thanking him stiffly for helping out.
It was during this visit that Trorm learned that the university had been shut down. After two major incidents the board had decided that the school needed upgraded security and that until they could provide extra protection for their students, classes were canceled. There was to be no football for the Stallions that season. Not with the school shut down and the stadium’s defenses so easily manipulated.
When Trorm had worried aloud what that meant for him staying in Aflana, Trisha had grabbed his hand. “You’re living with us for as long as you want. Okay? Football scholarship or no.”
“You did nothing to violate your agreement with the school,” Cherry informed him. “You’re still a student and will stay a part of the football team. You’re not going anywhere unless you choose to.”
Nymal visited next. They didn’t say much. She crawled into the hospital bed and simply cuddled into him. They read together for a while.
When she did speak it was to tell him, “Soliana’s mother died.”
Trorm held her while she cried.
The team visited next and the hospital room was decorated with memorabilia and balloons and he was plied with trays of party food. According to them, everyone on TV was calling him a hero. They certainly seemed to think so.
Coach had not cut them all from the team like he’d threatened to do. Practice was cancelled while the school was down, but they were all to resume as soon as the school was up and running again. They were getting a new stadium with upgraded protections. A lot of new wards were going up around the school. There were rumors that the new security wards would summon elementals to attack anyone who acted with hostile intent on campus. Trorm didn’t think he believed that.
The Maddens, Nymal, and various teammates rotated through his hospital roo
m, keeping him company when they could. Trorm was grateful for them. But as they days wore on he grew more and more worried.
Winnie hadn’t come to visit him and when he asked after her, nobody could tell him anything. He wasn’t a family member and the hospital staff refused to tell him anything. It was Cherry who brought him the information he was after.
“She’s awake,” she said. “Still recovering. That spell was nasty and they’re keeping her under observation.”
“I need to see her,” Trorm said.
“You’re a good friend, aren’t you,” she said, trailing her fingers over his chest. They were alone in the hospital room and night was coming on.
“I try,” Trorm said.
“Think you’re recovered enough to try something else?” Cherry asked, smirking and glancing pointedly at his groin.
“You are stunning,” Trorm said. “Winnie is my girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Cherry said, withdrawing her hand. “I apologize.”
Trorm shrugged. “No need. She’s…I think you and she will get along.”
Unbidden came the image of himself, Winnie, and Cherry naked in bed together in a tangle of limbs and flesh.
Cherry laughed. “Mr. Coldstorm, you are adorable. I am not the kind of women men’s girlfriend’s get along with.” She straightened up. “You’ll be checking out tomorrow. You ready?”
“Gods above yes,” Trorm said, a tension fleeing from him. Not pulling the sexy lawyer into his hospital bed, ripping that tiny skirt off, and ravaging her right there and then had been hard. He shifted, trying unsuccessfully to disguise his erection.
Cherry spotted it and laughed. “Gods above indeed. Good night, Mr. Coldstorm.”
She left.
Trorm waited another two hours for the hospital to begin closing down and then pulled himself free of the hospital bed. He wasn’t built for stealth and stood out like a sore thumb in this primarily human hospital, but he made his way through the cold halls to Winnie’s room without incident.
He knocked on the door and poked his head in. The lights were all on and she was curled up in her bed watching a reality show on the television. One of those shows where a couple looks at houses for sale and then buys one.
She looked over at him and the fur on her cheeks raised in a flush even as her ears fell. “Trorm.”
“Hey,” he said. “May I enter?”
She nodded. “Yeah, like, of course you can. I’m….” she trailed off.
He made his way across the room and took a chair beside the bed. “Are you well?”
She nodded. “I still…I’m still having bad dreams. Trouble sleeping.”
He nodded back. “Not unexpected. That was a particularly nasty spell.”
Winnie sniffled. “Yeah.” She didn’t look at him. “I heard you were here. The nurses told me you were doing okay when I asked about you.”
Interesting that they’d been willing to share with Winnie but not him. “They wouldn’t tell me a thing about how you were doing.”
Winnie ducked her head lower still, bunny ears drooping. “I…asked them not to.”
Perhaps not so surprising then that they hadn’t shared. “Why?”
Winnie began to shake. Trorm moved from the chair to the bed and pulled her into an embrace. She shook in his arms and buried her face in his chest.
“I can’t do that again,” she whispered. “Trorm…that…that was horrible.”
“I understand,” he said.
“Of course, you understand, you’re like, super fucking smart,” she said, sniffling. “And kind and strong and a beast in bed and…dammit this is hard!”
Trorm wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about any more, so he said nothing. Perhaps she didn’t understand what she meant to say either. He’d noticed that sometimes happened with people. So, he stayed silent and gave her time, holding her while she pulled herself and her thoughts together.
“I was useless when Arlen sent his monsters after you,” she said after a while, breaking the silence. “I couldn’t do a thing to hurt any of them. Not even when I got my baseball bat. When we fought him at the stadium, I thought, I thought I might be able to do something useful. I didn’t help, Trorm, I got in the way. I was a fucking hostage!”
Apparently, Abigail wasn’t the only one struggling with memories of that night.
She sniffled and shifted, pulling away from him. “And I couldn’t help this time either. I couldn’t get the drop on Trish went she went all evil and shit. And like, I can’t…I can’t handle the magic.”
“You don’t have to,” Trorm said.
“That’s the thing, Trorm,” she said. “Magic is like, always going to be a huge part of your life. You want to be some major magical advisor to the Glorious Horde.”
He nodded.
“That means you’ll be fighting with magical things,” Winnie said. “And I won’t be able to help.”
“You don’t have to,” Trorm said again.
She hit him in the chest. He supposed it was hard because she pulled her hand back, shaking it and glaring up at him.
“Ouch?” he said.
“Shut up!” she said, ears flat against her skull.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” he said. “Fierce little bunny.”
The ferocity fell away, and she shook her head, ears going limp. “I’m not though. Trorm, things are pretty serious between us. Like, way more serious than I expected and going fast. We keep going like this…I can’t stay back and let my mate do all the fighting, it’s not in me any more than it’s in you. And I can’t do this again.” She gestured around the hospital room. “I could deal with, like, scars or regular injuries. If you were a normal orc that wouldn’t be an issue. But you’re a wizard. And the things magic can do to people…I can’t do this again.”
“Winnie,” Trorm said, looking into her eyes. “This will never happen to you again. I will not allow it. It is my job to protect you, you’re my—”
Winnie cut him off with a shout. “I’m not!”
Trorm went silent. They both knew what he’d been about to say. It hadn’t been girlfriend and he’d had no right to say it. They’d made love in the way of married orcs, but that didn’t make them married. They hadn’t been together long enough by either of their people’s standards for that kind of union to be reasonable. And yet that was how he’d been thinking of her.
“I’m not Trorm,” she said, more quietly. “And I can’t be. I know the kind of life you want to lead, what you’re striving for, and…I don’t think I can be a part of it.”
Trorm took a deep breath and felt something inside himself break. The shards cut into him, as if trying to burrow their way out through his chest. “You’re breaking up with me.”
She nodded, tears falling down her cheeks. “I am. Fuxdas help me, I am.”
Trorm sucked in air through his teeth. “If that is your decision.”
“It…is.”
“Then I’ll leave you,” he said.
She grabbed him as he was standing up. “Stay. Please? I…I want your arms around me for a little while longer.”
He stayed there for several more hours, feeling like he was bleeding out. He stayed, thinking about what could have been, lamenting what was lost, and worst of all, still loving her. He stayed until she fell asleep and then stayed a little longer before tucking her into the hospital bed and making his way back through the quiet, cold hallways to his own room, crawling into his own bed, and letting sleep take him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Trorm checked himself out of the hospital the next day. The doctors had told him he shouldn’t drive, but a quick visit to the parking lot revealed the draco-truck waiting for him in the parking garage. It had driven itself to the hospital and had been waiting for him, much to the irritation of the garage attendants and security, who’d been trying unsuccessfully to put a ticket on the windshield. Not only did the draco-truck have G
PS, it could drive itself. No need to call for a ride. Trorm grinned. He’d have to talk to Cherry about whatever paperwork he’d need to make certain the vehicle was registered to him and that he wasn’t breaking any road laws.
The draco-truck got him back to the Madden residence in record time, where he found parking a little difficult due to the trucks parked out front. Several men he didn’t recognize were going in and out of the house. They stopped when he parked and stared at his truck, then at him. The Maddens had brought him a change of clothes and his sunglasses, so when he stepped out of the truck, he was dressed all in black again, his sunglasses on, and his staff in hand. He ignored the men, rubbing the snout of one of the dragon heads as it curled around to check on him, and made his way to the Madden’s house.
He smelled sawdust and something else that made his stomach rumble as he drew close to the door. Was that…roasted pork with cactus apples? His stomach rumbled again. After so many days of hospital food, supplemented by the junk food the team had brought him, a real meal—a traditional orcish meal at that—was more than welcome.
“Can I help you?” One of the men said, intercepting him at the door.
“I doubt it,” Trorm said absently, lifting his head to get a better whiff of the aroma of cooking meat.
IRRITATION flashed across the sunglass’s lenses. It was quickly replaced with ANGER. Trorm looked down to find the man glaring up at him. “What are you trying to sell?”
Trorm had no idea what the man was talking about.
His silence did not go over well. The man glared up at him. Then, very slowly and very loudly said, “What. Do. You. Want?”
“Inside,” Trorm said.
“That ain’t happening,” the man said. As he spoke, the other contractors closed in. Some were still holding their tools. They didn’t look like warriors, but Trorm recognized men readying for a fight.
Trorm, you’re early!” Abigail bolted from the doorway and threw herself into a bodily embrace. Trorm suspected that had he been human she might have staggered him, or perhaps even knocked him off his feet. “We were supposed to come pick you up this evening.”