Only a Game (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 17: How far is Greece from North Carolina???

Dean

I've been on a plane for seventeen hours now. It feels like that anyway. It feels like forever I've been cramped in this seat. I'm sweating and shaking like a leaf. I have such a high fever my skin feels like it's going to boil off. And I can barely see straight.

"Have a drink."

"And then the next thing we know this plane is an orgy," I hiss to Maya, who is sitting next to me. Thankfully there's no one in the middle seat so we're a bit spread out. She's slumped in a big t-shirt and faded jeans, hair coming out of short braids. I helped her braid it earlier, when my hands were shaking less. I, for one, am in a vomit stained button up and black jeans.

"Look at you! You're dying! I'd rather everyone here join the 20,000 mile high club than you go into cardiac arrest," she hisses.

"Pretty sure it's just called the mile-high club."

"That's stupid. Planes flight way higher than a mile."

"They do?"

"Yes like---at least much higher, more 20,000 feet, or more, I don't know."

"Then why would it be called the mile-high club?"

"I don't know! I don't think it is called the mile high club!"

"Who here is the god of sexual deviancy me or you?" I ask, folding my arms, "I think I know that it's called the mile high club."

"Okay, well, that's a dumb name but we're off topic—"

"What is the topic? I forget? Why is the plane spinning?"

"Because you're dying! You were hospitalized last week, I don't want to land in some foreign country and be immediately rushing you to the ER," Maya sighs.

"You may have to," I say, looking at my shaking hands.

"I don't want to! That's the problem, Dean---I know your dad and your mom have a point and what you're doing isn't good but, this isn't good for you," she sighs.

"I don't want to hurt people anymore," I say, reaching out to touch her arm. Maya herself fell victim to my lewd charms at one point. Apparently I live by sapping people's life energy while they party and get drunk on alcohol I summon. When I do it, I burn their skin as I sap their energy. Maya has my hand print burned into her upper arm.

"I know you didn't mean to," she says, taking my hands.

"That doesn't make it right. And I get a hell of a lot more complicit in it now that I do know I'm doing it," I say.

"I know—but look, it's just like any of your sibling's weird powers----there has to be a way you can like—use it gradually? Like a happy medium," Maya says, eagerly, "Look, you have to try something. You can't go on like this. And there has to be a an in-between between total abstinence and actual black-out-drunk orgy."

"I've tried! I tried having just a few drinks and a small party and the next thing I knew my dad was dragging me out of a pile of comatose party goers," I groan.

"Okay, well, you're not doing it alone this time. I'll be with you. Like an AA sponsor."

"Except you're helping me to drink, right?"

"Not just drink, do whatever it is you do to stay alive by feeding off of energy, just a little," she says, picking up her can of coke, "Here, this tastes like it has Jack in it—"

"Sorry! See? I can't control it!"

"It's fine, it's fine---just take a few sips, then leave it, then a few more in like, an hour," she says.

"I don't want to hurt you," I say, shaking my head.

"You're not going to. you start going too far? I'll shock you," she holds up a taser, proudly.

"Where did you get that?" I ask, shoving it back down.

"Your brother gave it to me," she says, cheerfully.

"Of course he did," my brother Thyme distributes enchanted weapons to small girls as a hobby. I'm not being sarcastic, that's literally what he does. I am like, the only person who has EVER noticed that the weapons he distributes are inexplicably concealable and surprisingly durable.

"One sip. I'll tase you if you go too far. But, dude, we have to try something. You don't deserve to hurt people, no, but you do deserve to be happy," she says.

"Not at the expense of other people though."

"So take them with you---Dean, look at me, we both know I was suicidal that night you took me with you to the rave. I don't care. I still remember having a lot of fun—"

"I scarred you for life!"

"I know—we're working on that part. That's a minor flaw in your powers, we're gonna work on it. Come on. What better time to test it? You're far away from your family who are understandably worked up about it. Worst case scenario I just have to call them to come get us. But for now, let's experiment," she says.

"Shock me if I get out of hand," I say, reluctantly taking the coke.

"I will. We can do this," she says.

I roll the can between my hands before taking a sip. It needs to make me better.

Instead of blessed wonderful life-giving alcohol, what do I get? It tastes like thick honey, only even sweeter. It burns all the way down my throat though, and seems to seep into my lungs. I cough.

"You okay?"

"Try this," I say, holding it out, "What'd I turn it into?"

"I don't know," she sniffs then takes a small sip, "That's weird."

"Yeah, well, we'll see what it does," but I already know what it does. I feel better already.