The Walls of Jericho

Sorting Things Out

“The last time, the dragon betrayed me. Right or wrong, this time, I’m paying him back.”

“Okay.”

It’s all Channing says. My chest still aches, but now my heart hurts too. “Frankly, that feels like a letdown, Channing.”

“What do you want me to say?” He shrugs the words and looks sheepish. “Why are you so hard on my ego?”

“Somebody has to keep you humble. And it's probably because I’m starving. What happened to dinner?” I lift my morphine-dispensing button so he can see. “Or is this it?”

“Sadly, Ferdi and Mr. Adriani got what I ordered for us,” he answers in a dramatic sigh. “But if you’re hungry, I’ll fix you something. I’m kind of handy in the kitchen, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yep. Popped that lid right off that jar of marinara.” I snap my fingers. “Just like that.”

He eyes me resentfully and I stare at him unapologetically. Then he hits me with that megawatt smile and that strange staticky sparking leaps between us again.

“Brutal. Absolutely savage, Jinks,” he says with a shake of his head, but he’s not mad. He wheels the chair back against the wall and rises. “What do you like on pizza?”

Maybe it’s because I’m practically naked in this hospital gown. Or maybe it’s because I can’t stand his moping, even when I antagonize it. Most likely, it’s because I’m an i***t. I tip my head to the side and bat my lashes. “I like it hot. And a little cheesy. With nothing else on it,” I drawl, arching a brow and letting my eyes slide over him.

Channing doesn’t miss a beat. He drops his gaze from my face to the little lumps that pass for my breasts and inhales. The sound of his breath slides over me like a touch. In the dim lighting and the flimsy gown, the pebbled tips are darker shadows and completely unmistakable. “I knew you were the girl for me.”

I flush hot all over and it’s not from the morphine. I can’t hold his gaze anymore. He routs me every single time I drop my guard. “Damn it, Channing.”

His low snicker draws closer, right up next to my ear. Bending at the waist, he presses a lingering kiss on my cheek. “One hot, cheesy pizza with nothing else on it coming right up, babydoll.”

While he’s gone, it gives me time to think and reign in my emotions so I'm not such a basket case. I relax against the raised back of my hospital bed and rest my eyes. In a matter of seconds, I have a mental three-dimensional rendering of where I am, including the surface structures of everything in a mile radius.

It’s impressive. Especially for me. And it makes me feel accomplished.

It’s also a little frightening.

What the hell did that dragon do? It’s as if using my ability against him has sent it into exponential growth. Or maybe it was always this way, but this is the first time I’ve tested it.

Channing’s right. I have no idea what the limits are. With the right access though, it should be impossible for the dragon to hide, even if he does look human.

Which fits nicely into my original plan for working at KDS, also known as Kemp Data Solutions, after I graduate. Last year, KDS signed a huge contract with a company called Heritage after pursuing it doggedly for months. The KDS C-suite had refused to accept Heritage’s ‘no’ for an answer, even when the company’s value plummeted. Even though there were hundreds of companies globally actively seeking KDS contracts, and those companies had far deeper pockets than Heritage.

Which was strange for a company as successful as KDS is. Then again, it’s not strange for its CEO. Supposedly he’s a genius. He’s also prone to erratic behaviors and wild mood swings and most investors expect either they’ll get rich or go bust when the CEO goes into a fugue state and burns the company down. The latter seems more and more likely with the Heritage project.

The newspapers regularly report that KDS’ Heritage deployment is fraught with difficulties. Difficulties that stump the most brilliant database architects in the business. It has KDS way over budget and well behind the scheduled completion date.

With my abilities as a technomage, I could get that job done. I’m certain of it. And as a KDS employee, once I did, I’d have access to Heritage’s personal genealogy repository. The largest one on the planet. One-hundred twenty-three million DNA profiles. Twelve billion historical records.

There’d be no place for the dragon to hide.

I wonder if Channing and Avernus can help me get a job at KDS, then my stomach growls ferociously. Now I wonder where he is with the promised pizza.

I also wonder how long I’m going to be in here. My ribs hurt every time I breathe. A whole lot. And I expect they’ll keep hurting for a while. I wish I had my tablet so I could look it up. Or my phone. But the tablet’s at Mr. Adriani’s house and my phone was in the front pocket of my hoodie. I have no idea what’s become of my clothes.

The best I can do is ask the doctor or nurse who’s taking care of me. Except I haven’t seen any medical care providers. The only people I’ve seen are Channing and Damien. Weird.

As if on cue, Channing appears with the pizza. He’s got plates and napkins and even two cans of Coke all piled together with the pizza on a rolling tray.

“Are you hurting?” he asks, wheeling the tray alongside the bed where the chair is.

“No. I’m good. I’ve got my new best friend right here.” I wiggle the morphine button to draw his attention to it. “Now that the issue of food is resolved, I’m wondering how long I’m going to be in here. No matter how much Ferdi might like Sweatin’ to the Oldies, Mr. Adriani’s bound to get on his nerves. And what’s Esteban going to do without me? Plus, I do still have a final to take and a dissertation to finish.”

“Ferdi and Mr. Adriani will be fine.” Channing sets a Coke in front of me and pops the top with one hand. With the other he peels the foil cover off the pizza tray and the most mouthwateringly delicious scent hits me.

“You’ve got three cracked ribs, Jericho. You’re going to be here for a few days,” he advises me. “I’m not sure I want you to go to work looking like you do either. I’ll talk to Esteban for you tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?”

“Nothing. You’re beautiful,” he replies without missing a beat.

The staticky sparks tell me that’s not entirely the truth and I wonder how bad I actually look.

“But you did get thrown about forty feet and have a four hundred pound motorcycle land on top of you, so it might be worth taking it easy for a few days, don't you think?”

A four hundred pound motorcycle he flipped off of me with one hand. I peer up at his face. God, he’s handsome. He certainly doesn’t look like he was locked in mortal combat with a dragon a few hours ago. Yeah. I remember. “So did you and you look fine.”

“I wasn’t in the direct line of it, you were.” He eases the rolling table over my bed.

 I’m not buying it, but it’s pretty clear he’s not interested in debating with me. Switching gears, I look for a way around his defenses. “Did you actually prepare this?”

One side of his mouth pulls up in a resigned smile and he shakes his head. “You are so bad for my ego. Yes, Jericho. By hand, even the crust. All from scratch, just for you. I really can cook.”

Flicking it off to one side, Channing opens my napkin and lays it over my lap. Then he slides a gooey cheesy slice of pizza onto a plate and hands it to me. The cheese stretches into strings, the slice clinging to its compatriots with drooping limbs, and I don’t doubt his culinary expertise at all.

“Taste it. You’ll see. Go on.” Standing upright, he crosses his arms over his chest and waits.

I admit, I’m hungry. And when I’m hungry, even Esteban’s cooking starts to taste good.

There’s no comparison to Channing’s pizza though. Not anywhere on earth.

The crust is blistered in all the right ways. It’s crispy on the undercarriage and supple-tender at the holding edge ringed with lacy cheese. I can tell as soon as it touches my tongue, it’s been anointed with a drizzle of olive oil then slathered with the tastiest tomato sauce and finally seasoned with wilted basil leaves, sea salt and cracked black pepper. Then it’s topped with a blanket of gooey mozzarella, but as the pizza’s cooled, it all melds into blissful harmony.

It’s cheese, and lots of it, so it’s slightly greasy, but the first bite is something that approaches transcendence.

“Mmmmm,” I groan in pleasure. Closing my eyes so nothing distracts from the pure delight of it in my mouth, I chew slowly, savoring every second. “Oh my God. This is fantastic.”

With a vindicated ‘hmph’, he plops onto the wheeled chair and rolls it closer to the tray. One-handed, he pops the top of his Coke and takes a big gulp. Then he grabs the other plate and pulls a slice of pizza onto it for himself. “I told you so.”

“Yes, you most certainly did. I bow to your culinary mastery.”

As we eat, the silence that settles over us is surprisingly comfortable. He polishes off his first slice, then takes another. Downing more of his soda, he asks, “For your schoolwork is that tablet beside your bed the only thing you need?”

I nibble on a corner of my crust. “Even if it was, you’re not going to get it.”

“I’ll have—.”

“No, you won’t have Ferdi get my school materials.”

He wipes his mouth on his napkin and peers as me with amusement. “Damien?”

“Nope.”

He frowns. “Then why did you bring up your school stuff if you’re not going to let anyone get any of it for you?”   

I take a sip of my Coke and wish I had a straw, then set the can down. “I don’t want you or any of your goons rooting through my bedroom.”

“Ooh.” He grins like he’s stumbled onto the biggest ah-ha moment of his life. “That lacy black bra’s still laying on the bench at the foot of your bed, isn’t it? God, I miss that thing.” He looks me dead in the eye and takes a huge ravenous bite off his pizza slice.

I blush furiously but try to keep my cool. “’Miss’ it? You’ve only ever seen it once,” I retort, pulling  another slice from the remainder on the tray. “On a bed.”

Channing ignores me and continues on. “Although that translucent peach one you had on was pretty sweet. Looked fantastic when it was off too.”

I freeze, and a greasy glob of cheese slides into my lap off the tip of my pizza. Even the morphine can't calm my panic. “Did—you—undress me?”

“Did you want me to have Ferdi do it?” He stuffs the last bit of his crust in his mouth, talking around it. “I mean, I guess he’s seen a lot more naked women than I have. It’d be like old hat to him. But I figured you’d want someone who actually cares about you—.”

“Oh my God.” Mortified, I drop my pizza back on the plate and cover my burning face with my hands. They smell delicious—like pizza— but I’ve completely lost my appetite. “Don’t you have any women working here?”

“I suppose I could’ve had Damien do it,” he adds and I catch the faintest hint of laughter in his voice. “Then again, he had that whole thing with the inflatable doll for a while. It might’ve been weird. Besides, I’m the boss. Which makes it my privilege to do it.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mumble through my hands.

“You’re welcome.” He fumbles with the cheese gooped napkin in my lap. “Let me get you a new napkin.”

A second later, I feel him tug at my wrist then lay a fresh napkin over my open palm. “Thanks.” Completely humiliated, I wipe off my fingers. In my periphery, I can see Channing’s laughing.

“I didn’t undress you, Jericho,” he chuckles. “The medical staff here did. They just brought your clothes to me in a bag. I went through it to make sure we hadn’t lost your phone.”

Tossing a furious glare at him, I shove my plate away from me. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Oh. Jericho.” His expression morphs to moderately contrite and I know he’s bought my fake temper tantrum, hook, line and sinker. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just playing around.”

Snatching my slice of pizza off my plate, I take a bite and chew with a smug smile on my face.

He grins back. “I suppose I deserved that,” he says with surprisingly good humor. “Obviously, the restorative properties of my lovingly home-cooked meal are working.”

“I already said it was fantastic. Stop fishing for more compliments. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Oh,” he groans. “My poor ego has never taken such a beating.”

“Somebody’s got to keep you humble, beefcake.”

He helps himself to a third slice of pizza from the tray and takes a bite of it. “What’s the process for appealing that nickname?”

“No appeals.” I sip my soda. “If you can call me ‘babydoll’ then I can call you ‘beefcake’.”

“What’s wrong with babydoll? You’re cute. It suits you.”

I flick a disgusted glower his direction. “Just like ‘beefcake’ suits you.”

“Ok. Fine. How about ‘doll’? Can I call you that?”

“Why don’t you call me by my name?”

“That’s no fun. Besides, all couples have pet names for each other.”

That gets the little static sparky thing he causes firing on all cylinders. “We’re not a couple.”

A corner of his mouth curves up like curling ribbon. “You’re lying. I can feel it.”

Crap. The man doesn’t miss a thing. I wonder what else about me he’s noticed that I’d rather that he didn’t see. I wipe my fingers on my napkin with a sense of foreboding. “Why don’t we just take this slow? Okay?”

He gazes at me with those knock-out blue eyes almost like his mind’s somewhere else. “Only if you promise not to sabotage a relationship before you give it a chance.”

He’s got me there. There’s a whole lot more to that request than just the words, and we both know it. I have to admit, I’ve earned his suspicion. I’ve spent years taking potshots at him whenever the opportunity presented itself and ignoring all the nice things he’s done for me. The t-shirt he’s wearing clings to the contours of his wide chest and I remember vividly the delectable V at his waistline. I should be focusing my attention on getting my degree and getting a KDS database architect position so I can hunt down a dragon that I owe a thing or two. Instead, I’m getting sort of sappy inside remembering how hard his fit body is and how gorgeous his stupid blue eyes are.

“You know that’ll ruin everything.” I need to say the words, even if I don’t really intend to do anything to stop it. They sound a little breathy, even to my ears and the sparks start to fly between Channing and me.

Rising, he slides the rolling table back. He takes a seat on the edge of my bed and props his hands on either side of my hips. He's a lot bigger than me, and for some reason, that's exciting, but not as excting as his words. “We’ll sort it out as we go.” The murmur is a soft caress across my cheek and the dim light plays along the fine angles of his handsome face.

He’s so close to me that anything I say will brush our lips together. That realization gets me all pins-and-needly anxious and exasperated at the same time. It also reminds me I have no idea what I’m doing. “Channing.” It’s barely a whisper.

His mouth finds mine, his tongue dancing across my lips, slow and tantalizing. The whole world feels like it’s closed in around us, and the static sparking has become an exhilarating tingle I don’t want to stop. I strain towards him as he retreats then a sharp pain stabs along my side, clawing and biting its way into my brain as I yelp.

“Crap! Jericho, I’m so sorry!”

Before he can say anything else, I knot my fingers in the front of his t-shirt. I raise the morphine drip dispense button to eye level between us and depress it. The warm wash of morphine pours into my system and the shooting pain from my ribs subsides. A husky little giggle escapes me as the euphoric sensation flows over me. “All better. Now, do something else with your mouth.”