chair with one hand while with the other he tried to control the soup bowl. He wasn’t notably successful. Soup sloshed across his hand as he failed to keep the bowl balanced. Then the spoon shipped overboard and rang and clattered on the polished slate floor. Cross picked it up, blew across it, sat down, and began slurping. Noodles clung to his lower lip like a walrus’s bristles, then were quickly sucked in. Broth dribbled into his beard. Watching the homeless god eat was a stomach-turning experience. I swallowed hard a few times. My stomach sank back down.
I found myself staring at the Old One. In the weeks before Kenntnis’s capture our enemies had kept up a constant assault on Cross to keep him splintered. He had been reduced to a fragile stick figure barely able to muster up the strength to “see” magic, which was his primary use to the Lumina. But now that sickly creature was gone. Color shone in his cheeks. His eyes were clear. The envelope in which he wrapped his alien form looked strong and virile. I said as much, and got back Cross’s usual tactless response.
“Thanks. You look like shit.”
“I got shot. What’s your excuse for being so chipper? I thought you’d be almost permanently splintered with all the crap that’s going on in the world,” I countered.
“Yeah, things are getting rough out there, but when bad shit happens, good people, I mean truly good people, tend to get even better. They’re worshiping me
hard
, so I’ve got a little reserve built up against my asshole brethren. And, don’t forget, the chaos feeds me, too.”
Well, that was an alarming thought. “Help me up,” I ordered. I so didn’t want to face what that might portend while flat on my back.
Cross set aside his soup bowl, grabbed me by the forearm, and helped me sit up. He snatched up the pillow and revealed the Starfire and the sword hilt that had been hidden beneath it.
“Little paranoid?” Cross asked. He plumped up the pillow and leaned it against the curving steel and glass headboard. Thrusting his hands beneath my arms, he hoisted me back until I rested against the headboard. He was amazingly strong, and the pressure of his hands both tickled and hurt the muscles and tendons in my armpits. Moving also changed the throb in my thigh to a white-hot line of pain. I clamped my teeth together so hard that my jaw ached, and I still couldn’t hold back the strangled moan.
When I could talk again I snapped, “Can you blame me?”
“Nah. Your dad told me what happened. Talk about a co-worker gone bad.” Cross paused and cocked his head, considering. The flippant expression faded. “You gotta make sure no one in this building gets similar ideas.”
“And just how do I do that?”
“Use the sword.”
“Snyder tried to kill me out of greed, not because of all the craziness.”
“Yeah, but as our dimensions push deeper into your universe, your reality is going to get really fucked up. People are going to believe crazy, crazy shit, and sometimes the crazy shit’s going to start happening. You’ve gotta at least protect the people around you.”
I reset the pillows supporting my injured leg while I chewed on that. “Great, I can just picture how well that’s going to go over. Oh, by the way, if you want to keep your job you’ve got to let me touch you with this
sword.
”
“Tell ’em to think of it as your version of a drug test.”
I wasn’t buying it. I shook my head and then asked, “Will the madness affect your worshipers?”
“Richard, hello.” He bopped me on the forehead with the palm of his hand in a send-up of the V8 commercial. “Remember, believing in me is crazy, too.” It was said with that patient gentleness you reserve for the old and senile, or the very young.
With an irritable wave of my hand, I brushed off the condescension. “But you appeal to the best of our natures. Even if the underlying belief is irrational, I’ll settle for the good result.”
“Problem is,
I found myself staring at the Old One. In the weeks before Kenntnis’s capture our enemies had kept up a constant assault on Cross to keep him splintered. He had been reduced to a fragile stick figure barely able to muster up the strength to “see” magic, which was his primary use to the Lumina. But now that sickly creature was gone. Color shone in his cheeks. His eyes were clear. The envelope in which he wrapped his alien form looked strong and virile. I said as much, and got back Cross’s usual tactless response.
“Thanks. You look like shit.”
“I got shot. What’s your excuse for being so chipper? I thought you’d be almost permanently splintered with all the crap that’s going on in the world,” I countered.
“Yeah, things are getting rough out there, but when bad shit happens, good people, I mean truly good people, tend to get even better. They’re worshiping me
hard
, so I’ve got a little reserve built up against my asshole brethren. And, don’t forget, the chaos feeds me, too.”
Well, that was an alarming thought. “Help me up,” I ordered. I so didn’t want to face what that might portend while flat on my back.
Cross set aside his soup bowl, grabbed me by the forearm, and helped me sit up. He snatched up the pillow and revealed the Starfire and the sword hilt that had been hidden beneath it.
“Little paranoid?” Cross asked. He plumped up the pillow and leaned it against the curving steel and glass headboard. Thrusting his hands beneath my arms, he hoisted me back until I rested against the headboard. He was amazingly strong, and the pressure of his hands both tickled and hurt the muscles and tendons in my armpits. Moving also changed the throb in my thigh to a white-hot line of pain. I clamped my teeth together so hard that my jaw ached, and I still couldn’t hold back the strangled moan.
When I could talk again I snapped, “Can you blame me?”
“Nah. Your dad told me what happened. Talk about a co-worker gone bad.” Cross paused and cocked his head, considering. The flippant expression faded. “You gotta make sure no one in this building gets similar ideas.”
“And just how do I do that?”
“Use the sword.”
“Snyder tried to kill me out of greed, not because of all the craziness.”
“Yeah, but as our dimensions push deeper into your universe, your reality is going to get really fucked up. People are going to believe crazy, crazy shit, and sometimes the crazy shit’s going to start happening. You’ve gotta at least protect the people around you.”
I reset the pillows supporting my injured leg while I chewed on that. “Great, I can just picture how well that’s going to go over. Oh, by the way, if you want to keep your job you’ve got to let me touch you with this
sword.
”
“Tell ’em to think of it as your version of a drug test.”
I wasn’t buying it. I shook my head and then asked, “Will the madness affect your worshipers?”
“Richard, hello.” He bopped me on the forehead with the palm of his hand in a send-up of the V8 commercial. “Remember, believing in me is crazy, too.” It was said with that patient gentleness you reserve for the old and senile, or the very young.
With an irritable wave of my hand, I brushed off the condescension. “But you appeal to the best of our natures. Even if the underlying belief is irrational, I’ll settle for the good result.”
“Problem is,
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