Page 123 of Shroom for Improvement

“I’m just renting a room,” he replied, but the smile that curved the corner of his mouth told me Claude was onto something, that John was being rumbled.

“How long?” Claude said.

“Sixteen years.”

Claude sucked in a breath and leaned forward in his seat. It wasn’t a threatening gesture, but it was astop bullshitting me right nowone.

John smiled, his tongue popped out. “I have notepads in my room. Hundreds, spanning back a long time—a very long time. I have a lot of notes about your father, too, if you’d ever like to flick through those.”

Claude looked at me, and I knew without him having to say anything what that look meant. He was saying,“I’m not interested in reading them, but you, Sonny, are more than welcome to take a look.”

I thanked him by squeezing his fingers tightly. He squeezed mine back.

“John, is there anything in your notes that might tell us about the rhizome ritual?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not. Angus was very particular that no one other than his current flame could be present during the ritual.”

“Thank you.” Claude dropped my hand, pushed his chair back, and got to his feet. “And you’re wrong.”

John was still smirking. “How so?”

“I’m not stuck here. I’m honoured to be the one to continue the ritual. I’m not my father.” He walked towards the door. Not aggressively, but in a way that told both John and me he would not invite any further questions about his loyalty to Jenny or his duties.

I offered John a polite nod and followed Claude out of the breakfast hall.

“Three thousand and eleven,” John said. We stopped in our tracks. “That’s how many years I’ve been here. But only sixteen under my current guise. I can’t seem to leave this place either.”

All Aboard

Claude

Sonny was due to leave in—I checked my watch—seventy-two hours. Fuck, three days.

Three days and he’d be back in Remy, being all amazing and Sonny-like a thousand miles away from me. Even if I wanted to go with him, I couldn’t. I needed to stay here and save this fucking house before I did anything else.

I was so close to cracking this whole lightning thing. I’d been able to create a storm cloud and make electricity leap from my hands, but after that, it sort of fizzled into nothingness. Never made it back down to the tablet.

I knew if I hadn’t figured this glamour out in seventy-two hours, Sonny wouldn’t hesitate to stay behind and help me during the solstice. We’d done the magic together before so we both knew it was obtainable.

But I couldn’t be the person responsible for his missed career opportunity. One he’d been working towards for decades. I wasn’tthatguy.

I also couldn’t bear him hanging around while I practiced. For one, it was raining. The earth at Stinkhorn Manor and beyond had become so parched and dry recently the rain was welcomed, but standing outside as I failed yet again to conjure a lightning strike while it pissed down was about as shitty and miserable as it got.

Besides, I needed to know I could do the magic by myself, without him nearby.

So, I’d bid Sonny farewell and sent him to his lab or the library, and I headed to the paddock alone. The field itself had become dry as a dust bowl, and the rain seemed to do little to reinvigorate the soil. It ran off the surface like water off a siren’s back, and collected in the chasm-like cracks that sliced open the ground.

I planted my feet shoulder width apart and held my palms up, ready to start the magic. Raindrops pattered my shoulders, turning my shirt see-through, and dripped from the brim of my hat.

And I concentrated. With all my might.

It took six hours.

I tried not to think about Sonny the entire time. I really did. But I couldn’t wipe him from my thoughts. When I closed my eyes, I saw him lying beneath me on my bed, his mouth open, eyes fixed on mine, the sheets pulled over our heads. And when I opened them and tried to focus on the distant flora, I saw us beside the pool—watching the sunset, holding each other, growing chillier by the second, but there for each other.

Warmth blossomed in my chest. That bittersweet, happy feeling I always got when I thought about Sonny, but somehow... more. The tiny fissures of electricity on my hands I’d conjured earlier grew bigger. Now they were balls of plasma, balancing like puffball mushrooms a few inches above my palms.

But as quickly as they’d appeared, they vanished. I’d gotten too excited.

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