Page 92 of Psycho Gods

Reverie (noun): the condition of being lost in thought.

DAY 9, HOUR 19

“A safe place for the soldiers to unwind.”

That was what Lothaire had called Elite Academy last week. The unspoken I’m doing this for you, my daughter had hung in the air between us.

Yesterday, he’d burst into our sleeping barracks and dumped RJE devices onto the floor. “In recognition of your sacrifices, I procured these for you and your soldiers. Your old room and the academy’s servants are yours to use. Thank you for your service.”

He’d ruffled my blue curls and whispered, “You’re doing great.”

Then he’d RJE’d away, and I’d gaped at the place where he’d stood.

One day, a man’s hitting you with a baton and the next he’s trying to be a cool dad.

Life comes at you fast.

Now we were back partying in our bedroom at Elite Academy, and it didn’t feel like a safe place.

It felt wild.

Muted red light, so dark it was almost black, filtered through the stained-glass windows and cast shadows over the dancers.

I wanted to scream with grief over the war, and I would have, but…

I couldn’t feel my face.

I also couldn’t feel my back or my limbs.

Or the crushing existential despair that was squeezing my—wait, never mind, that was still present.

I danced as the party raged around me.

My hands waved in the air, diamond bracelet glittering for all to see, as my hips rolled against the masses of sweaty flesh. The floor beneath my feet was covered in black ice and sent some partygoers falling to the ground.

I bared my teeth with satisfaction as another student fell.

We were all just carnal beasts looking for our next fix.

A few feet away, Ghost kissed a burley male student, who liked to make homophobic and misogynistic comments, on the lips, and he fell to the ground, convulsing and foaming at the mouth.

I gave Ghost a high five as he floated past. His incorporeal hand went through me, and I shivered.

We loved an ally.

Apparently, he was not constrained to the library, because he glided around the party, sending students into comas.

Tears filled my eyes.

I’d missed Ghost so much, and things just weren’t the same without him around because no one traumatized people like he did.

He had a rare gift.

Demon brew coursed through my veins as bodies gyrated around me, and instead of crying, I did what I did best in life.

Drugs.

Sun god bless the demon culture; they were the true silent heroes of the realm for helping us all get so gloriously wasted.