Pears and Perils (21 page)

“Let’s begin.”

* * *

Thunder’s life-changing moment hadn’t come in the form of watching a clown get into a brawl or a near-death experience with a shark. In fact, to anyone watching from the outside, his moment would have seemed completely mundane. Such is the problem with seeing only what rests on the surface.

Though his body was twenty-three years old, Thunder had only existed for five of them. Before his moment, he had been someone else entirely. Not-Thunder was a quiet young man, studious, organized, and dedicated to his work. He made his father constantly proud with his wit and academic prowess, securing a spot in a prestigious university without even having to resort to using the family connections. He was on track for a successful corporate life. He was a child any parent would be happy to show off. He was perfect.

He was miserable. Work, books, papers, rinse, repeat. Life was like tofu: nutritious, but lacking flavor. Not-Thunder was smart enough to be self-aware; he knew he wasn’t happy. What he couldn’t figure out was why. He came from wealth, there was a bright future ahead of him, he was in good health. There was no objective reason he could discern why he shouldn’t be happy. It wasn’t until college that Not-Thunder had the idea that would change everything.

With a sampling of like-aged students as big as his university offered, he could conduct a study: catalogue people from various walks of life, plot their respective contentment, find the common denominator in those with the highest scores, and incorporate it into his own life. This was the kind of idea that most people would have laughed off, but Not-Thunder was far from most people. He was an achiever, and this was something he wanted to achieve.

It took months of work to get all the data he needed. Interviews, surveys, analysis of a myriad of nearly untrackable factors, all had to be balanced with maintaining his grades. It was a darn good thing Not-Thunder was smart, otherwise he would have failed out. Still, he kept at it, and by March he had finally generated a defendable output from his study.

That was his moment: sitting in the library amidst people talking about their plans for spring break, checking and re-checking his data. To anyone observing, he seemed to be focusing on a particularly important assignment. They wouldn’t be wrong in that evaluation, not technically; they would just never truly grasp the depth of how important it was.

For his part, Not-Thunder could scarcely believe what his work told him. The happiest people he’d measured were the ones who never seemed to think about their happiness. The ones who lived in action, who made choices that were often the very epitome of stupidity. Especially worth noting was a nearly-universally high rating amidst those who participated in the fraternity and sorority lifestyles. Though some of them were quite intelligent, it was that single factor that seemed to most determine how content they were with life: the willingness to act. Taking chances, even when they rarely paid off, still generated more joy than careful analysis and preparation.

Applying the theorem to his own life, Not-Thunder realized the pattern held true. All he did was plan and prepare for the life he would one day have. He was treating his youth like it was the night before an important presentation, building a strong base of knowledge for when all eyes eventually turned to him. But… would that ever happen? His father managed his company from an upper suite that didn’t permit most other employees to interact with him. The man went to socials with other wealthy people who were keeping others at arm’s length. There was no warmth, no impulse, no life. And that was where Not-Thunder was heading. He was preparing for life, but on this path he was never going to live it. The data was right there in front of him. Data didn’t lie.

The next Fall there was a new face at one of the less academically rigorous colleges in Dallas. He wore a bright pink collared shirt, silver aviators, and flip-flops with beer openers in the bottom. This young man was noted among the frat he rushed as the most enthusiastic of all the pledges in his class; really, the most gung-ho participant that any of them could remember. No matter what trial the brothers organized, he was jumping up and down to participate. It wasn’t that he had no shame or lacked common sense: he was just sincerely happy to be there. Sure, he had a strange way of speaking, and his name was ridiculous, but the guy bubbled with happiness. It made everyone else a little more cheerful just having him around. Thunder was welcomed to the brotherhood with open arms, even if those arms were attached to a person who was never entirely sure what Thunder was saying.

Five years later, sitting on the dusty floor of an ancient temple with his friends, wrists bound by some strange kind of rope and surrounded by natives who were not exactly brimming with friendliness, Thunder marveled inwardly at the strange turns his life had taken since that lonely library night in March. Not-Thunder would never have ended up here: that was certain.

Thunder looked over at the others. Falcon was silent, her eyes darting about as she assessed the room and all potential threats. Mano seemed curiously calm, as though he had reached peace with his mortality a long time ago and all of this was old-hat. Kaia had a look on her face Thunder had seen many times, one that usually was followed by a slap to the cheek or a swift kick to the junk. He had a feeling at least one of these guards was going to need some ice on their family pears before the day was over.

Only April seemed outwardly distressed, using what small amount of control over her body she had to chew nervously on her lower lip. Thunder caught her eye and flashed her his trademark grin. She gave a weak smile back, though whether that was because of the effects of the spell or because she was still terrified was hard to tell. Thunder wished he could tell her it was going to be okay. No matter what happened, it would turn out all good, because Thunder had a plan. It didn’t involve anything as complicated as Falcon was likely hatching, nor did it center on any contingence of events that would create an opening.

Thunder’s plan was simple: when the time came, he would act. It was the same plan he used for every hurdle he faced in his life, and it hadn’t let him down yet.

19.

“That was certainly informative,” Lawrence said, levitating out of the hole and back onto the stone floor. “I had no idea such enormously powerful beings existed.”

“
You know me, always glad to help. Maybe after this I can give you a nice rim job while I fan you with a palm leaf.
”

“I would very much like to express how not on board with that I am,” Clint said on Kodi’s heels. “Especially since I think my body would be the one he used.”

“Relax, I understand your… passenger doesn’t speak for you. Once I’ve finished my work, I’ll pluck him out of your head and stick him back in some plant, just to show there are no hard feelings.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I’m not a monster. I simply saw an opportunity for tremendous gain and decided to seize it,” Lawrence explained. “I did what anyone would do in my situation. Assuming they had the brains and tenacity to pull it off, obviously. I’ll be back to free you from your mind parasite soon.” Lawrence walked calmly out of the room, leaving Clint still unable to move from the neck down.

He’s lying.

“Really? And here I thought the guy holding us all hostage was a respectable gentleman.”

No need to get snippy.

“I’m not. You are, and it’s bleeding over,” Clint sighed. “I thought you were going to stop him from finding what he wanted in my head.”

That was the plan, up until he mentioned he would kill everyone if I messed up his brain.

“Right. Probably a good call on that one.”

Thought you’d approve. On the plus side, he was so busy rooting around that he didn’t notice me doing some snooping of my own. I know what he’s doing now.

“You do? That’s great! What is it and how do we stop him?”

He’s trying to steal my divinity, and we don’t.

“We don’t?”

The guy has us completely beaten. He’s trapped Felbren in a pearl, which is how he’s controlling everyone. When he calls Nature using the pear, he’ll pretend he’s the emissary. She’ll sense Felbren’s divine power and think it’s me, so she’ll channel my power to him. Without me there to flow into, it will be stuck inside him, where he’ll be able to take control of it.

“Can’t Nature see through his trick?”

She could if she gave a crap. To her, this is just a minor annoyance to be done and forgotten about. Hell, she probably doesn’t even remember trapping me. That’s why the energy in the pear is so important. It’s like a dog whistle, except made specifically to summon her for this task.

“Gotcha.” Clint dearly wished he could sit down; his legs were getting stiff from holding the slightly hunched position Lawrence had left him in. “Is there anything else?”

Yeah. He’s going to kill us all when he’s done.

“What?!” Clint’s voice echoed across the stone chamber, bouncing down the hallway to ears unknown.

He doesn’t want witnesses. He’s not trying to start a religion; he’s trying to covertly seize power. The only reason we all aren’t dead yet is that he’s smart enough to save crimes that carry a life in prison for after he no longer has to worry about mortal authorities.

Clint’s head swam and for once it wasn’t just at frustration from dealing with Kodi. They were going to die. Everyone. Kaia, Mano, Falcon, April, even Thunder. And it was his fault. If he’d just gone to a shrink to talk about the voice in his head instead of going off on some crazy adventure, Lawrence would have never known about gods. They’d all be drinking cocktails made from Kenowai Pears and watching the sun drift below the horizon. Now… now they were probably living their last minutes of life because of Clint.

Hey, are you okay? Things are getting a little… swirly in here.

“Your voice thing. We can use that, can’t we? Free ourselves, go off and stop Lawrence?”

I told you: that relies on ambient faith. We’re in the temple of one god with another binding us. Even if I could channel enough juice to pop us free without completely shredding you, there’s no way we could beat the full power of a god. Not even a half-breed could do that, and those are way stronger than we are right now. For that sort of thing you need direct Belief fueled by one hell of a Want.

“No… no, I don’t accept that.” Clint’s breathing was getting hard; he could swear he was beginning to see spots at the corners of his vision. “There has to be something we can do. Those people are our friends.”

Clint… you need to calm down, kid. I can see inside your head and let me tell you, things are beginning to get kind of crazy.

“I don’t care.” Clint realized his legs had stopped hurting; then he noticed that at some point during his mini freak-out, he’d managed to sit down. He tested his legs and found them still completely immobile. Weird. Very weird. “I don’t care about how much power he has. I don’t care how hopeless this is. We’re going to do something. I will not let him win. He is not going to hurt anyone.”

Kid, what the hell is going on with you? This is getting seriously… Oh, shit.

Kodiwandae finally recognized what was happening inside the mind of the mortal where he had set up shop. What had begun as a light blaze of panic had fed upon Clint’s fears and guilt, building until it was a roaring inferno tearing through the young man’s thoughts. Kodiwandae was seeing something truly miraculous. He was actually witnessing the manifestation of a mortal’s first Want. Much like the first Love and the first orgasm, this was going to be a doozy.

It shredded all coherent thought, engulfing every aspect of who Clint was, consuming every memory and dream and hope that comprised what made him Clint until all of him, every last piece, was burning with the same desire:

I Want To Keep Them Safe.

Kodi felt himself growing warm, his attempts to hold it back beginning to falter. It was enveloping him too; he could sense himself being filled by Clint’s Want, an unspoken prayer of desperation practically vibrating with need. As the last of his defenses fell and Kodi began to be swept away into the blaze, he felt his own existence expand, filling him with a tingling sensation of power he’d nearly forgotten the flavor of. That was when the jist of his own earlier words came back to him and he realized just how crazy things were about to get: “Mortal’s Wants direct and power gods.”

Well… This is going to be interesting.

* * *

“So bro, what’s the policinaltude on last requests?” Thunder asked.

Lawrence stood at the altar, arranging a few final touches for the ceremony. He presumed most of it was formality; however, his careful nature refused to let him skip something that might be important. This was a one-shot opportunity and he refused to see it fail because he’d lit the wrong color of candle. He was momentarily surprised at Thunder’s voice; he didn’t recall releasing their ability to speak. Perhaps his control weakened as his attention faltered. Something to keep in mind after his ascension.

“Last requests apply to the condemned. I have no intention of killing any of you; I just want to proceed with my business uninterrupted.”

If Thunder doubted the man’s words, he kept such worries to himself. He’d felt something a few minutes ago, a strange ripple in the force holding him down. Testing had revealed that while his body was still slow to respond, as though he’d beer-bonged a bottle of vodka, it would move under his command. Lawrence’s cronies were on the wall, but they hadn’t stepped up to guard more closely, so Thunder had a suspicion something had weakened Lawrence’s power. If there was going to be action, this was the time.

“Well, then how about letting us get our refreshment on during the shizow? Still a few brewskis in the backpack.”

Lawrence resisted the urge to sigh in frustration; it was unbecoming for men such as him. He’d tried to quiet Thunder once more, yet the boy still responded. It was worrying; however, at this point, the most opportune scenario was merely to press ahead in an expedient manner. That meant quieting the boy so Lawrence could think.