Page 27 of Psycho Gods

“Give me the lighter.” I nudged Orion.

He hesitantly reached into his pocket.

“Stop!” Dr. Palmer’s shrill voice made all four of us wince. “No one—” She breathed deeply like she was trying to get control of herself. “—is lighting anyone on fire in this room.”

“So we should do it outside of the room?” I asked.

Knuckles whitened against a clipboard, and she stared at the ceiling like she was having a mental breakdown. Extremely relatable.

A timer went off.

With a fluid movement, she sat up straight and smiled at us. Her voice was honey sweet as she said, “Your hour session is over. Please leave.”

I stood and stuck out my hand for her to shake.

“Get out of my office.” She held her clipboard tight to her chest.

I let my hand drop and nodded as I took a long drag from my pipe. “You’re truly a goddess at your craft. Great stuff—I really liked how you just repeated the same phrases.”

“Out!” she snapped.

“I’ll let you know how lighting him on fire works.” I yawned.

“I didn’t suggest that.” Her pen snapped. “As an accredited professional, I’m informing all of you right now that I will report you to the relevant authorities if any of you light each other—or anyone else—on fire.”

The smoldering picture frame fell off the wall.

We all knew there were no authorities that would punish the champions of the gods. We were the appointed authorities. More proof that lunatics ran the realms.

Who looked at Malum and thought, “That man seems stable. Let’s give him insane powers and put him in charge?” I’d like to speak to that person’s manager…and shank them.

The kings stood up and embraced one another.

Then they turned, and all three of them crowded my space.

I looked down and noticed the water left in my cup had frozen into solid ice. Peculiar.

Shadows and muscles widened around me.

I pulled the RJE device with “therapy” engraved on its surface out of my pocket and grabbed Orion’s wrist. Scorpius and Malum wrapped their fingers around my forearm.

They could have just grabbed Orion, but in the last three weeks, they pointedly touched me every time we RJE’d.

As if the split second of contact meant something to them.

They were trying to show they chose me.

Like it wasn’t too late.

It was.

Fat droplets streaked drearily across the window, and I said cheerily, “I’ll keep you updated.” I pressed the glowing device.

Dr. Palmer shook her head frantically. “Please, don’t.”

“I will,” I whispered as I blinked and the therapist’s office disappeared.

Crack.

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