Page 34 of Demon Demands

It would be days before he was totally sober.

There was no sleeping the cappa beer off. You drank it, you tripped, and if you tried to sleep it off… you would wake up still tripping.

I used to go to my favorite cavern and take a little more than a shot of the beer, relishing in all the psychedelic colors around me. I’d never drank as much as he had, though.

If I’d been under the influence for eight hours and felt the aftereffects for two days with just two ounces… Vaughn could trip for days and have flashbacks for a week or longer.

I studied my fae as he lay across Helios’ back, his feet dangling off one side of my hellhound while his head hung off the other. His pupils were so dilated that I could hardly see the icy blue of his irises. He was repeatedly reaching up, trying to snatch objects from the air. No one could see them, except for him, and he kept murmuring, “Come here, dammit. I’m trying to save you.”

Vaughn was quiet for a few minutes, so I took the time to peek at Jack. He was passed out, leaning against the neck of one of Lira’s pups. Grim and Dolyn kept their hounds close, ready to stop his prone form from slipping off as we trotted slowly to the edge of Lilk’s territory. We’d cross over into Motus soon, but it would still take six hours or more to get to Hell.

Sitting up abruptly, Vaughn startled me out of my brief thoughts again. “The stars are falling out of the sky,” he shrieked, genuine terror in his voice. “Help me catch them!”

“I got you, dude. You want me to put them in my pocket or toss them to you for safekeeping?” Novak asked, his lips twitching as he provoked Vaughn’s paranoia.

“Just hold them! We can’t let them get hurt.” Vaughn stretched both of his arms toward the sky, growling in frustration. “Why won’t you let me save you?”

Dolyn scratched his jaw. “Gods, he’s on a whole new level. How much do you think he drank?”

Grim shook his head. “Have you guys ever been that fucked up? I haven’t.”

None of us knew how much had been in the canteen, but Stone had described its size. If it had been full, we’d be lucky for him to ever come down from his trip.

Hopefully Jack could help when he woke up. He’d once chugged around sixteen ounces of cappa beer while chewing on the root.

“Jack was close one time,” I admitted to the group, scrunching my face up in distaste. “He jumped off of a cliff in Voletan, landed in the water, and then freaked out because he thought he couldn’t swim. He could, but he’d shifted and sank, then shifted back and… there was a ton of crying afterward. We collected seashells for four hours to make it all better. He named every single one of them too. And he threw a fireball at me for calling Morticia Monica.”

Grim released a surprised laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.” I popped the p.

“Why am I just now hearing about that?” He glared, widened purple irises flashing at me.

I grimaced. “Honestly? I’ve been trying to forget about it since it happened. Jack is a handful on a good day. He’s like seventeen handfuls after drinking cappa beer.”

As expected, Vaughn was having the time of his life — so far — while the rest of us giggled and groaned. He might not remember everything, but he’d be able to recall chunks of his trip for the rest of his life.

Knowing the little bit that I knew of my fae, I could safely assume that most of his experience would embarrass him. I wished our phones worked in the Underworld so that we could record him.

After a few more minutes of peaceful silence, Palmer waved his arms wildly in the air. Vaughn snapped his attention to my mage, reeled back, and freaked out over all the tracers Palmer was leaving.

He tumbled off Helios right as the sand began to give way to the more firm ground of Motus, landing flat on his back. We all stopped moving as we waited for him to signal that he was okay. While Palmer and Novak chortled, Helios shoved his snout into Vaughn’s chest as gently as he could.

My fae grunted. “I’m fine.”

“We know,” Novak quipped.

Vaughn gazed at Helios as if he was contemplating the universe and all its secrets. “Am I the hellhound?” he questioned thoughtfully. “Or am I the man riding the hellhound?”

“You’re the man laying on the ground beside a hellhound, Fae. He’s waiting for you to get up so that we can go,” York replied in amusement.

“Are we men? Or something more?” Vaughn wondered aloud. “I feel like we’re so much more, but I can’t understand why.”

I sighed, grinning as I shook my head. “He’s definitely fine.”

“Get up, Vaughn,” Briggs grumbled. “We need to keep moving so we can get you into some kind of padded room or something.”

Vaughn sat straight up, glaring at Briggs. “Why?”