Page 8 of Scion of Chaos

Still, while washing my hair, I give my scalp a good once-over, checking for any sign of head injury. I did wake up amid the ruins of a building—maybe something hit me on the noggin? But I find no soreness or contusions whatsoever. And after a perusal of my body in the mirror, I find not even so much as a hickey unless it’s hidden somewhere under my tattoo.

The big purple octopus that clings to my side peers back at me, inert and silent. I tilt my head to get a closer look, scanning the lines and shading that stretch all the way from the side of my neck down to the top of my hip. Then I turn, craning my head to examine the part of the design that extends to part of my back. I’m interrupted by one of my dorm-mates popping in and hurriedly wrap my towel back around me. She just eyes me curiously before slipping into a stall to pee.

When I get back to my bed and slip into boxer shorts and a tank top, I throw a sweater on top and grab my sketchbook out of my bag along with a pencil.

“I’m going to go scrounge for a snack. Want anything?” I ask Rachel.

She looks up and cocks her head. “Actually, do you want some company? I could use a snack too.”

The first floor of our dormitory includes a small kitchen and a great room that doubles as a library and cafe during the day. Behind the counter is a fancy cappuccino maker and a full-sized fridge, along with a cabinet filled with assorted boxes of cereal—hot and cold—several loaves of sliced bread, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a cookie jar that never runs out.

I grab a box of granola and a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter. Rachel retrieves two clean bowls, and we tag-team making granola with sliced banana on top. We settle at one of the small cafe tables beneath a light and dig in.

“Fuck, this is good.” I stare into my bowl in wonderment, because it’s the same experience I had when I took my first bite of burger earlier tonight. Is it just because I’m starving?

“Eh, it’s passable,” Rachel says. “The banana helps.”

But it’s more than passable to me. It’s like I can taste every molecule of life that went into the grains and fruit. Flavor explodes across my tongue with every bite.

I slow my eating and stare into my bowl. “Something weird is happening to me, Rache.”

She nods. “It seems that way. Your aura said as much. It’s changed over the last few days.”

I stare at her. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You seemed spooked the first time I mentioned it, so I wasn’t sure how much detail I should give you. I didn’t even know what it meant. Just that things were different today.”

“Different how?”

“Just-got-laid different, for one thing, which I told you. But aside from the glow everyone’s aura has when they’ve just boned—something I see alotat St. George—the colors were all brighter. You’re the only person whose aura is like a crazy rainbow kaleidoscope, but tonight all the colors looked like the saturation was set to max.”

I crunch on my cereal for a few and shake my head. “That’s the weird thing. I feel like I got laid too. Except I didn’t. Or if I did, I don’t remember it.”

She stops eating and stares at me. “Did you lose time?”

“About eighteen hours.”

My friends all knew about the dildo part of my project, but Audra’s the only one who saw the whole finished assignment, since it was for a class we share. I explain to Rachel about the jewelry portion of the assignment, and our instructor’s suggestion of summoning a god to tell me what I am. Then actually attempting to do it.

Her eyes widen to saucers and her half-eaten bowl of granola goes soggy by the time I finish.

“Holy shit, Nem. What if you succeeded? What if some uber-powerful god answered your ritual, fucked you silly, then made you forget?”

“Well, they did a shit job if they left all that mess. I hadcumdripping down my thighs when I woke up, Rache. That’s what it tasted like, anyway.”

Her mouth drops open and she lets out a stuttering cough. “Wait, youtastedit? As in put some in your mouth and swallowed?”

I frown. “That’s the literal definition of tasting. It tasted like semen. Better, actually.”

She shoves her bowl aside and takes a breath, spreading her hands out on the tabletop. “Okay, there’s something you need to know that I don’t think you do yet... and the reason theyreallyneed to have a higher races sex-ed class at this place, for fuck’s sake. For most of the higher races, bodily fluids carry serious magic. The significance of the magic depends on which race the fluid belongs to. But for nymphaea it’sespeciallysacred, because it’s how they form a mate bond.”

Something flutters in my belly and I tamp it down. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know if it means anything in your case, but it’s something to consider. If you were with a nymphaea—a satyr—and you tasted each other’s essence, that’s a big fucking deal.”

Ever the skeptic, I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you saying I inadvertently bound myself to a god?”

“Not necessarily. It takes three exchanges for it to be official, but all it takes is one taste for a nymphaea to know you. Not to mention there’s a whole deal with the barrier protecting the island. For someone to come through, they have to be fated to be here—to be with someone who is already here.”

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