Chapter Seven

"You have got to be kidding me," Harrison muttered for what had to be the hundredth time that night.

"If you're going to keep complaining, can you at least make it entertaining?"

"How can this be entertaining?"

" Anything can be entertaining," I pointed out. "I mean, you're talking to the girl who makes pap smears a party!"

Harrison gave me a deadpan look that called me an idiot with no words needed to get the gist.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back, my head still killing me.

"Headache?" he asked, his gaze back on the work before him. It was almost impressive how he could do something so technical while somehow paying attention to me and my state.

"How can you tell?" I closed my eyes and rubbed at my temples. "Can you sense that?"

"Usually, yes. I can feel not only the emotions of those around me but also the physical issues."

I opened one eye to peer across the room at him. "Does that mean you get off if others are having sex?"

He narrowed his eyes but didn't look my way, answering the question for me.

"Well, well, well, who would have figured you for a voyeur? It's always the quiet ones, I'm telling you. I'll make sure to have some solo fun while in the same house. You could use the excitement."

"You know, normal people don't bring that sort of thing up in mixed company."

"Yeah, well, when have I ever been normal? What's the point in that anyway? Normal is boring."

He shook his head, closed his eyes, and moved his hands across the items in front of him. He had a metal tray out on the large dining room table, his body hunched over it.

It had started as sugar, but after a very boring and complicated process that had involved me ignoring it and napping a few times, now resembled the clear crystals I knew Cloud to be.

"This is a mistake," he said again, his voice soft, as though he couldn't help saying it even if he knew it would do no good.

"This is our only choice. If you have a better idea, go ahead and tell me," I pointed out—again.

He let out a short huff but didn't respond—proof that he couldn't argue with me over it. The fact was that we were stuck.

We needed to find this supplier to track down the person using the Cloud. Given what I'd learned from Trey, it was clear that the supplier was a powerful Mind, so sneaking up on them was unlikely.

It meant creating our own product to add pressure to the supplier. Giving him a rival would draw him out, and mad people made mistakes.

Given Harrison was the only Mind I knew who could actually make this shit, he'd basically volunteered himself.

"You know," I said, my eyes closed again. "I'm surprised you know how to make this."

"It's not easy to do, but it isn't all that complicated. It is more a matter of available power. Few Minds have blood powerful enough to actually create it."

"It won't hurt you, right?"

"What, are you worried about me now?"

"Nope, not at all. You're just my current shield. If something happens to you, I'm a sitting target again."

He snorted, the sound calling me a liar. Still, he didn't come right out and say it, moving on instead. "No, using this amount of power won't harm me in the least. By morning, I will have replenished anything I use, especially because I've made this batch differently."

"Differently? Did you flavor it or something? Personally, I'd go fireball. Kids today love fireball."

"I reduced the mental effects while increasing the euphoric sensation."

"You can do that?"

"Of course. Cloud is created using the powers of the Mind who makes it, along with their blood as a binder. With enough power and control, they can steer the effects. I made this batch with the purpose of drawing in users without offering them the increase in power that can put others in danger. The last thing I want is your little plan to backfire and harm others."

"You might just have a future as a chemist," I said with a laugh. "Why don't we both quit the council and become drug dealers?"

"This has less risk, but far from none. Someone could still overdose on it, and another powerful Mind could tamper with it. Make no mistake—I don't care for creating this. I've seen what Cloud can do to Minds, and I dislike putting more of it out there, even if I don't have any better idea or plan." His tone was low, as though sulking.

Still, I understood. I'd never really liked drugs, and I sure as fuck didn't care for the idea of selling them at school.

However, it would put us exactly where we needed to be, like it or not. Sometimes we had to do some shitty things to deal with a bigger problem. It took me back to Trey's words, to the idea that no one was forcing anyone to take it. If doing this got the really bad stuff off the street?

I'd lived with worse.

The conversation dwindled, and before I knew it, exhaustion pulled me under. I slept fitfully, waking every hour or so to find Harrison still hunched over the table, hard at work.

Yet, something about him there helped to ease me, as though he took some of that stress from me. I knew I shouldn't have felt safe there, but he made me feel it whether or not I wanted to.

The headache refused to ease, and I'd taken enough ibuprofen that any doctor would have lectured me for it. That didn't seem to even help, anymore. My skin felt feverish, like a cold I just couldn't kick no matter what I did.

"Grey?" Harrison's voice came from so close, whispered and oddly sweet. He normally spoke to me so coldly, but I had to admit, I rather liked this tone.

It was strange to hear, sure, but I found myself turning toward it in pleasure. Warmth touched my cheek, and I nuzzled against it.

"Grey, wake up."

That time, the words drew me back to consciousness. The throbbing headache that ran through my brain made me instantly regret it, however.

How was it possible for me to still feel this horrible? Just sleeping should have helped.

"You're still hurting." The words weren't a question, and I doubted he needed me to confirm it. Instead, I forced myself to sit up, aided by Harrison's hand on my back.

I peered to the side, toward the light through the window. It told me that the sun had risen, which meant I'd slept through the night. A look at Harrison's face—and the dark circles under his eyes—said he hadn't. Guilt hit me for a moment before I pushed it away.

When had guilt helped anything? Never. It hadn't done anything for me, so why waste my time with such nonsense?

So instead, I looked toward the table where he'd worked.

"I finished," he said, clearly knowing my next question.

I forced myself to my feet, hating just how bad I felt. Not that it mattered—I could whine and bitch later. For now, I needed to work. I headed for the table, finding not the mess of the night before. Instead of the sugar, the now clear Cloud was already in a number of small bags, the same size and shape as the ones sold by Trey.

The main difference? I picked one up, impressed that it appeared even more pure than the shit Trey had sold. On the front was a different sticker, white with a line art image that made me give Harrison a dirty look.

"Really?"

"I thought it fitting."

Hard to argue that as I peered at the simple design of a crow, the lines flowing and ethereal. "I guess you have a point," I admitted. "It's not like this will work if they can't track the product back to a single supplier."

"This is your bad idea—I thought you'd want your symbol on it."

I shook my head, too tired and my headache too bad to argue with him over it. Instead, I sighed and looked at the baggies. "How much is there?"

"I created thirty-two bags. Cloud is only good for a few days after created, so making more than we can sell will do us no good. This much should get the other supplier's attention, however. Assuming you can find buyers, that is."

"Are you doubting me now? Trust me, I can find people to buy it all. No problem. I'm good at that."

He pressed his lips together, seeming far less sure than I felt. Then again, Harrison struck me as the type who had no idea how many people would buy shit like this. The truth was, finding buyers wasn't that difficult, not when it came down to it. So long as the product was good, buyers would always be lining up.

And no matter how much I enjoyed ribbing on Harrison, I had zero doubts that he could make a good product. If it really was all about the power of the Mind who created it, then he'd have no problem making some good shit.

"So tomorrow I'll bring this." I gestured at the bags on the table. "If it only lasts a few days, by the end of the week, the other supplier should catch wind of the new players."

"Which means you need to remain vigilant," Harrison pointed out. "You need to ensure you are not more than a few hundred feet away from me at any time. A Mind using this could do serious damage in a matter of seconds."

I waved off his concerns. "I get it, but you worry too much. I'll be on campus, so it'll be fine."

He pressed his lips together, then shook his head. "Well, you should sleep more."

"I slept all night."

"Not well, and judging by your pale skin, it wasn't enough."

"You're worse than Galen," I muttered.

"Perhaps, but I can't say I don't better understand him, now. I used to wonder why he worried for you so, why he always appeared worn out when dealing with you. I believe you may have removed years from my life already, and as you know, Minds still have normal life spans. It makes it a more troublesome thing for me than it does for Galen."

I waved off his concerns—or complaints—but I couldn't quite ignore his suggestion.

He was right—I felt like shit. While the thought of sleeping again sounded about as good as cold, canned meat, I knew it was still what I should do.

So I took myself toward my room, ready to fall into my bed and try to finally rid myself of this lingering exhaustion.

Just what the fuck is wrong with me?