limitless, for better or worse. âHowâs Gunn going to pick his seven?â
âDonât think he is.â
âWhat do you mean? Then whoâs deciding?â
âI tried to mine Gunnâs mind, get some answers on our car ride here, but the man keeps his thoughts locked tight. But I was able to amplify some of his conversations in the car with his lackey, Dawson,â she whispers. âAnd I almost donât believe what I heard, but I swear Gunn was talking about the importance of having the sorcerers choose themselves.â
Choose themselvesâ meaning the group of us chooses our strongest seven, instead of Gunn?
I want to crack open this conversation, push Grace a little more on all she knows, but Stock starts stirring across from her, his cot whining like a child in a tantrum. We grow quiet as he sits up, looks around. His eyes fall on the two of us, and he flashes me a smile that reminds me of his rodent manipulation last night.
âAw, how precious. A little morning powwow. You lecturing New Girl on the wise ways of Dune family magic, Grace?â Stock reaches for his own pack of cigs. âTelling her all about the way you Dunes fuck cows to bring on the rain?â He laughs as he lights his smoke. âAnd shit in fields to make the sun come up a little earlier?â
âEat it, Stock,â Grace mutters, but a horrible flush starts to crawl around her ears.
âThe Dune family is known up here as a flock of strange, strange birds, New Girl,â Stock laughs. âHate to cut off this budding friendship and all, but if youâre looking for some kind of sugar daddy, I suggest a real contender.â He blows a puff of smoke toward me. âSomeone like me. I can take care of you. Iâll make sure youâve got something warm and fuzzy to hold on to,â he says with a shit-eating grin. He wiggles his eyebrows. âThat rat was just the beginning.â
âSo you conjure a rat when youâre lonely at night?â I say slowly.
His smile falters a little bit. âThatâs not what I meant.â He gives a sharp, forced laugh as he takes another drag to recover. âYour headâs completely empty inside that doll-face of yours, isnât it?â
I take a deep breath, quite aware that Grace is watching, that others might be watching too. If sheâs right, if everyoneâs supposed to be judging and assessing everyone elseâs strengths and weaknesses, and I donât know how to use magic to earn their respect, I sure as hell better find an alternative.
âDo me a favor,â I tell Stock, slow and evenly, like Iâm not somebody to mess with, like Iâm someone like Gunn, âdonât speak to me, and donât speak to Grace, until youâre ready to act like a gentleman.â I steal another breath before bringing it home. âI donât care what a big man you think you are âcause your daddyâs dying and you somehow stumbled into this chance. I can see right through you.â I let my eyes fall over him, from top to bottom, till I glance down at the front of his pants. I arch my eyebrow theatrically and take a chance. âAnd youâre small, Stock Harding. Limp .â
Stockâs face erupts red, and he instinctively puts his hand over his crotch. A few of the eavesdropping sorcerers around us start chuckling.
âYou little bitchââ
âUh, uh, uh.â I raise my finger, lean forward, feel the magiccoursing through me that I donât know what to do with, but whose heady hold emboldens me just the same. âBe a gentleman.â
I turn around and bury my gaze in my satchel, keep my shaking hands busy by grabbing a flask of water and towel to freshen up, as Grace does the same beside me. I hear Stock shift on his cot, like heâs going to move, maybe confront me, but then he stops, pauses, and mutters, âPsycho skirt.â
He launches off his mattress