Only a Game (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 26: Minos Industries

Maya

"I think you're getting worse," I sigh, leaning against the door of the bathroom while Dean throws up. He tried to eat. A mistake apparently. We ditched our tour group a half an hour ago and found a suitably quiet employee bathroom to try to get him cleaned up, but he just kept throwing up.

"No, I haven't kept food down for months," he sighs, spitting again, "Not for long anyway. This is just—it."

"Here, you were better after---" I sort out the now repurposed soda bottles and my own water-now-vodka bottle. "Here—the fermented honey or whatever."

"It's not helping," he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, "The only time I feel—moderately okay---let alone good, is when I'm in the middle of it."

"It being a rave, or whatever?" I ask.

He nods.

"Okay then—you know what --screw it? You can't keep living like this. Let's see how well you can control just getting everyone slightly intoxicated, just slightly," I say.

"It's not---I don't think it's actually the intoxication," he says, accepting the honey, "I think it's more that I am draining their energy. And that's easier to do when they're drunk and don't notice it."

"Do you know what it feels like? When you do that?" I ask.

He nods.

"What?" I ask, curious now.

"The best thing in the world—it's like---like you need air to breath right? It's like pure oxygen right there in front of me, I just have to breath it in. Except I'm forcing myself not to because I know the consequences," he says.

"Okay then, we need to try, for your sake, doing it, just a little. Like there has to be a way you can do it for a little while and then stop," I say.

"I'm not really good at stopping we've determined," he sighs.

"That's why I'm here---look we have to try. We're on an island, it's a perfect controlled setting," I say.

"Promise you'll---tase me or whatever?" he asks.

"Yes, I promise. Just have a few drinks and---leech a little bit off of everyone, including me," I say, shrugging.

He shifts his feet.

"You've been doing me?"

"Like I said, it's like breathing. I can't not—completely. That's why I stay at my dad's all the time now. My siblings aren't so bothered as other people," he says, taking another drink of the honey, "Here have some. It's good once you get used to it."

"One of us has to remain sober," I point out, taking a small sip anyway. It burns my whole mouth.

"I don't think it's alcoholic," he says, taking my water bottle of vodka from my bag to do a shot.

"What is it then?" I ask, wincing.

"I don't know. I don't know why I turn ---whatever soda into that, I guess we used to have water in that? I don't usually focus on what I'm doing, it's involuntary but if I focus then sometimes I've gotten beer if I wanted it instead of wine," he says.

"Is there anyone we can ask about this? I mean, I know your dad didn't know any more than you do," all we know about his family is everyone has some sort of super power. They're all different and all weird. The little kids are weirdest I feel like. His dad is really strong but beyond that I don't totally know what he does. He's slammed doors closed from across the room so maybe he's telekinetic? I don't know.

"My dad's dad might now---he sometimes knows things if he's feeling helpful. He's sort of at that stage in immortality where he thinks people should find out things for themselves," Dean says, shrugging. He's looking better after the drinks though. This is bad.

"Let's at least find out what he knows, then like I said we can practice on this island," I say, as encouragingly as I can. I'm well aware my friend is dying.

"Okay," he sighs, taking his phone out of his pocket to make the call. He puts it on speaker.

"You all right?" I have no idea why but I should address the fact that his grandpa has a British accent and so everyone in the family has some derivative of it. That said, I've had enough family dinners with them to find out that none of them reliably know where England is.

"Yeah, no not really um----so other than regular alcohol I'm randomly turning water and such into this other substance it's kind of like honey but it's sparklier ----?"

"Ambrosia?"

"I have no idea what it's called, hence the question," Dean says.

"That's what it's called—where are you? Don't drink too much you're a bit over powered as it is—it'll augment your abilities for lack of a better explanation—where are you?"

"No place special working on my powers bye----shit," Dean hangs up and we both wince.

"Okay, you're not drinking any more of that that's the last thing we need," I say.

"Nope, not doing that, okay put that someplace I won't grab it by mistake—okay you're right. We can do this," he says, confidently, doing another shot of vodka.

"Sure we can, let's go find the tour group," I say.

"Hey. What are you kids doing in here?" a surprisingly armed guard opens the door to the bathroom, nearly knocking me over.

"We are desired guests," Dean says, deadpan, "What are you doing here?"

Now to be clear, I think Dean was trying to be funny. Or just sassy. He's kind of like that. His whole family is actually. They'll generally give some BS response when posed with a valid question like that. For example one of his brothers spent twenty five minutes pretending to be Jesus to my very Baptist mom. So, Dean's answer is in character and I'm sure he planned on following it up with the fact that we're part of the tour group (except, you know, we aren't).

Anyway the guard does not take it that way. Either because of Dean's intoxicating effect on people (literally. Even without a drink people act drunk if they're around him too much), or because of something beyond our control. The guard takes us seriously.

And that's how we wind up being escorted to meet 'the lady of the house'.

"We'll see if the lady recognizes you. If you're lying."

"We're lying, drop us at the embassy," Dean says, carelessly and very bravely considering how many armed guards we've walked past. Paranoid much? Why all the guards and crap? I mean, I get that it's like a business or whatever but is this amount of security really necessary? What are they afraid of?