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I shrugged it off for now and got into the car, cranking the engine to get the AC going. “Put your seat belt on. Are you all right?” I asked again.
He complied with my command. “I’ll be fine. Just need to close my eyes for a bit,” he repeated.
“You look like shit,” I said, as I pulled out into traffic.
“You’re one to talk,” he replied. I glanced at him sharply. It hadn’t been delivered with any tone of joking, but I bit back my reply. He obviously didn’t feel well, and there was no point in me overreacting.
I maintained my silence as I drove back to my house, and when I pulled into my driveway I saw that he was asleep. At least I hoped he was asleep. I felt a quick stab of fear that something awful had happened, but his chest still rose and fell in a nicely reassuring manner.
I parked the car in front of the house and gently nudged his shoulder, really hoping I could wake him up, since I didn’t want to think about carrying him into the house. But his eyes snapped open as soon as I touched him.
“We’re at my house. Do you want to crash here for a bit?”
He rubbed at his face, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”
He seemed steadier on his feet as he walked to the house and up the stairs. The twenty-minute nap he’d taken in the car had obviously helped a lot. “Are you hungry?” I asked as I headed to the kitchen.
He hesitated, then nodded again. “I should probably eat something.”
I searched through my fridge for something quick and easy. I finally settled on a microwaved mini-pizza. I half-expected him to make a crack about my cooking, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash, merely wolfed it down in about three bites. I was relieved to see some color come back to his face after he ate, though he still had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept for a week. I thought I had the monopoly on those.
I stuck another pizza in the microwave, and when I turned back around he had an empty wine bottle in his hand, looking at it with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. I groaned inwardly.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t have a drinking problem. I was trying to relax enough to get some sleep last night. And for the record, that was emptied over the course of about a week.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “I never said you had a drinking problem.”
“You didn’t have to.” I took the bottle out of his hand and dumped it in the trash, wincing as it clanked harshly against the two other bottles in there already.
“My, aren’t we touchy.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself. “You’re right, I am.” I busied myself with getting the second pizza out of the microwave and putting it on his plate. “Sorry.”
He lifted the pizza and blew on it to cool it. “Did you summon again Saturday night?”
I blinked at the non sequitur. “Yeah.”
“That’s cool.” An oddly strained silence fell for another minute or so while he ate. At least he was looking better. I expected him to ask me more about my summoning, but if he wasn’t going to ask, I wasn’t going to offer.
Finally he leaned back in the chair and pushed his empty plate away. “Okay, much better,” he said, giving me a more normal smile. “So, what did you summon that wears boots?”
I stared at him, then twisted to look at the floor by the back door. Great. A damn near perfect boot print. Shit. Teach me to mop my floors more often. “I … uh, I summoned Rhyzkahl.”
He frowned at me. Or, rather, he gave me a facial expression that was about ten times as frowny as a frown. “How the fuck? Why the fuck?”
I forced a laugh, trying not to look guilty, which was how I felt for some reason. “I know, I know. But he wanted me to summon him, and I was given his oath that I would not be harmed.”
He lowered his head and looked at me, gaze penetrating. “What did he want?”
“He, uh … wants me to be ‘his’ summoner.”
His expression didn’t change. “And how does that work?”
I briefly explained what I knew, especially pointing out the bit about how he would still be constrained by the summoning protocols. “I don’t think he’s been to this sphere for centuries, except for the botched summonings and the time I called him, and he didn’t exactly get to see the sights then,” I said.
Ryan snorted. “I’m trying to picture him walking through a mall.”
I laughed. “That would turn some heads.”
