The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 30: The Fear of Falling Apart

Mads checked the time again. Three more hours till eleven. Not long. Mads looked down at her hands, bandaged in blanket scraps and finally clean. Her right palm was swollen and sore from the slash, but at least it wasn't dirty anymore. She'd tied the scraps tight enough to almost take all the feeling out of her hand, in an attempt to decrease the pain. It worked halfway. But the whole process hadn't taken more than fifteen minutes, and so now she was bored all over again.

Mads pulled Luc's map out of her bodice and unrolled it. A small vial of brown, crystalline powder fell into her palm. She turned the vial over, looking for an inscription or something that might give her a clue as to its use or contents. But there was nothing. Mads set it aside to examine the map.

The map was of Ga'naa, according to a scribbled note in the worn right corner. The caverns and tunnel systems were clearly marked but they were far more extensive than Mads had imagined. The paths and rooms were labeled in several different peoples' handwriting. Most of it was illegible. Mads squinted at each room, trying to figure out where she was in the labyrinth.

It was useless. It looked like a tangled pile of intestines, and equally confusing. Mads glared at Luc's prone body. "Why did you have to get beaten so badly?"

Well, that had been his intention, as far as she'd understood. But it didn't make sense to her then, and it didn't now. Mads felt herself getting angrier by the second, now that the shock was wearing off. All of this, everything, and he'd been freaking Jupiter Jive the whole stars-damned time? She wanted to strangle him. And beat him to a pulp herself.

As if he could feel the intent of her thoughts, Luc groaned and shifted. His eyelids fluttered.

Mads scrambled to his side and tipped a bit of the drinking water into his bloody mouth. "Hey, hey, you alive?" She prodded his cheek. "Don't choke."

He did choke, spitting watery blood onto the floor. But his eyes flickered open. "Unnn, 'mm I dead?" he managed, his voice garbled and thick.

"Not quite," said Mads. "Not for lack of trying."

He squinted up at her, his eyes watering, from sleep or pain. "Map?"

Mads nodded. "On the cot. It's fine."

Luc sighed. "Bring it, please."

"Sure." Mads retrieved the map, and on second thought, the vial it had contained. "What's this stuff?" She dangled it in front of Luc's mostly-closed eyes.

To her surprise, Luc smiled. But he immediately winced, as his lip caught up with him. He held out a filthy hand. "Perfect."

"What is it?" demanded Mads.

Luc groaned and dropped his arm back to his side. "Stimulant. Painkiller. Strong. Highly illegal."

Mads stared from the vial to Luc and back. "You planned on getting beaten?" She stared at him, incredulous. Jupiter Jive is always one step ahead . . . or ten.

Luc cupped his palm, resting his hand against the floor, waiting. "Mm, not exactly. Please."

Mads sighed, but she dropped the vial into his open hand. She watched him fumble with the cap one-handed. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, irritated by his weakness, how it made her feel guilty.

She snatched the vial back and unscrewed the tiny cap. "Do you mix it with water or something?"

"No," he grunted and closed his eyes again. "Take my advice. Never get whipped."

Mads snorted in surprised amusement. "I don't plan on it. Here." She carefully placed the open vial in his trembling fingers. "You, uhm, passed out before I could tell you. The Priestess offered me a position as an acolyte. She gave me till tomorrow to think about it. But I don't think you have that long, do you? That bruise on your head looks bad. Do you think you have a concussion?"