Page 11 of Strength of Desire

“Sure, but when all my other options are decidedly worse…” I sighed. “Yeah, I’m up to it. Let’s get this over with.”

4

CORY

It was harder to relax tonight, with everything that had happened, and Romero had to remind me multiple times to let my weight settle onto the couch, to release the tension in my muscles. To remember that I could pick up my worries again later, that they didn’t need to be solved now.

It was actually that comment that finally put me under. I’d been thinking about the large wall of windows behind the sofa and wondering what would happen if a moragh came crashing through them while I slept, before remembering that Romero’s rooms were on the third floor.

Could moraghin climb? Their claws certainly looked sharp enough to gouge into Vesperwood’s brick walls. I supposed that even if they couldn’t do it unassisted, they could use ropes and picks and so on. But then I wondered if they’d have the presence of mind to do so. Could a mindless magical zombie stop long enough to properly tie a climbing rope?

My last thought was about how odd a moragh in a climbing harness would look, before I was pulled under.

Once more, I was swimming in the starry sea, my head still above water for now. Each lesson, I’d had to force myself to go under, to follow the tugging in my core. The swirling lights below the surface beckoned. I knew I would be fine, once I was under. But going under brought the inevitable one step closer.

I might as well give in, though. Like I’d said to Romero, all my other options were worse. I sighed, closed my eyes, and dove down. I kept my eyes closed until I felt my lungs run out of air, until my chest was bursting with the desire to breathe. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I opened my eyes and sucked in a breath, letting the water that wasn’t water wash through my lungs that were no longer lungs.

It was so beautiful. I still hadn’t gotten used to it. The twirling galaxy of colored stars spiralled out around me. I ached to touch each of them, to feel their colored warmth drift over my skin.

Each one was unique, no two shades of pink or chartreuse or royal purple quite the same. And the textures…this one a swirl of snowflakes, that one an eddy of autumn leaves, still another a twirl of electric blue and mint green music notes.

One that was two inches from my not-elbow looked like a spiral of soap bubbles emanating from an impenetrably glowing center. I wanted to run my fingers through it, to feel that center for myself, but instead I kicked backwards, away from it.

Geoff, I reminded myself.You need to find Geoff.

Buthow? I had no idea. I spun around lazily, the stars swishing by in a slow circle, and came to a stop facing in a new direction. Should I go that way? Or do the opposite? There were no signposts down here. His star could be right next to me, or miles away. How would I ever know?

Did the stars around me belong to the people physically closest to me? Romero had no more idea than I did. All I knew was that I had to pick someone, because time passed differently here, and Romero would have to wake me up by the end of fifth hour, whether I’d dreamt or not.

I sighed and closed my eyes again, but this time I tried to center myself.Geoff. Geoff from Duluth. That’s who I’m looking for, and when I open my eyes, I’ll know where to go.I’ll find Geoff from Duluth.

I opened my eyes, and the soap bubble star was floating in front of me. Had it moved? HadImoved? I looked around, but I couldn’t remember which other stars had been near it before.

Was this the star I was supposed to find? I had no idea, and there was only one way to find out.

I brushed my invisible fingers across the star. It was soft and warm, sending tingles up my arm. And that lightest of touches was still enough to wake it up, or bring it to life, or whatever happened when I brushed against a star. It grew and grew, swirling around me, expanding to fill my entire field of vision. It enveloped me, sending me tumbling down, down, until—

“Cory? You looked like you wanted to say something about Jim’s proposal.”

I was in an office conference room, wearing a suit and tie. I was sitting in a rolling chair, pulled up to a shiny wooden table, around which sat four men and two women. A fifth man was standing at the front of the room, next to a screen displaying a slide with a bar graph for regional sales numbers across the past five years.

“Cory?”

The voice came from an older man sitting at the head of the table, a leather-bound writing pad in front of him. He had a crisply trimmed gray beard and eyes that looked like they didn’t suffer fools gladly. I stared at him, utterly baffled as to what his name was. And then he flickered.

What? I blinked, staring harder. People didn’t flicker. It had to be a trick of the light. Or my eyes. I did feel kind of tired.

“I, uh—” I cleared my throat. Why was I sitting here? What were we talking about? Why couldn’t I remember what had happened two seconds ago? “I just…thought it was really interesting,” I finished lamely.

What the hell was going on?

“Me too,” said the man sitting next to me. His voice was warmer, and the smile he gave me was downright pleasant.

Hasan, I thought, putting a name to the face. That was Hasan. The other summer intern. And that was Jim up at the projector, our direct supervisor. Hasan and I had helped put this presentation together. Of course. I remembered now.

My mind flashed back to long evenings spent with Hasan in the office, the two of us double-checking sales numbers and isolating target demographics. Hasan with his head bent low over his macroeconomics textbook in a free moment—we were getting college credit for this internship, but we still had our summer courses to complete too.

I flushed, remembering two nights ago, when Hasan had caught me staring at him.

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