Jack held the blue stone up to his ear, and listened to the gem sing in tones that were almost colors, slipping between sight and sound, they softly resonated with his own magic and the memories of the night flashed across his mind. He dropped the chain around his neck and the music slide away into the background hum of the casino.
Jack remembered the party and Michael patting him on the shoulder and saying “go have fun.” Then a woman pressing him against the wall and music pounding through his bones. There was the park that was halfway home and he’d lost his shoes and one sock, and the rain started. He’d stepped under a sculpture and there were kids, teens dressed up in costumes, good ones. He’d shifted to give them a scare and they’d laughed and handed him the bottle they were passing around. Then the dream started, stars that swirled across a screen and blurred into streaks. More drinks and then this place where you gambled away bits of your life.
It was fun, fun, but long for a dream, and too real. Because you didn’t have scents in a dream did you? And this place was awash with them. The floor was cold under his feet and the haze of alcohol and drugs fading from his thoughts when he felt a shift in the room. He shrugged and refolded his wings.
People (Aliens?) were moving subtly around an advancing man, tall, lean a shock of white hair and blue skin and eyes that glowed. Power blazed across Jack’s true-sight almost blinding his physical eyes as his psyche was overwhelmed. The ancient heart of this place coiled and pulsed around the figure. This was not a man. This was a star, an inferno of energy masquerading as something vaguely human.
“Another round?” The creature said.
Jack gaped in awe. Fleeing was futile, fear or bravery pointless reactions. Instead he reached out and brushed his own magic across the corona of light that flickered around the being, breathing in the barest hint of his power. Which was beyond foolish. It was like trying to fly in a tornado. He swayed on his seat and dug his short claws into the table to stay upright.
“Yes.” Jack said. Not sure whether it was fatalism or his love of riding the edge of the storm that drove his answer. He grinned. If he was going to go down in flames this was one hell of a pyre.
