Free Vision Quest by A.F. Henley; Kelly Wyre Page A

glasses. "Have you seen these kinds of things before?"
    "Not with that kind of intensity, no," Arik admitted.
    Blaze sat down on the arm of the couch, adjusting the towel to fall between his legs. "With what kind of intensity, then?"
    Arik shrugged and sat across from Blaze, on the coffee table that spanned the front of the couch. He reversed Blaze's previous movements and readjusted Blaze's towel to allow for a far more daring view, grinning at Blaze's chuckle. "Mostly just... well," Arik took a small sip of wine before setting the glass aside. He began to trace light circles along the inside of Blaze's bare thigh. The sharp intake of breath Blaze gave him for the effort made Arik's gut clench with delight. Whether it was Blaze's attention that spurred the bravery for Arik to continue, or just the need to finally spit it out, Arik wasn't sure. "I call it my 'watch, review, record' mode. I see things that I know will have importance later, and I make a note of how and why in my head. Then I store it up and set it aside so I can recall it when I need it."
    "For example?"
    Arik's lips twitched. "Little things. Weird things. Things that end up relating to one another. Like, yesterday morning, before I met you, it was everything red. The week before my father jumped, it was things with wings."
    Blaze frowned. "Jumped?"
    "Off a bridge," Arik explained with an eye roll. "God was calling, you see."
    "So foretelling, more or less—"
    Arik cut him off before Blaze could finish, frowning. "Tell that to our young mini-golf guide, Craig. That was obviously not foretelling. If it was anything at all, it was a taunt." Arik dropped his voice to a creepy, snarling parody of himself. "You can see it, dumbass, but you can't do a damn thing about it. Enjoy the view."
    "Or it was," Blaze suggested. "Maybe it was the start of something huge. Maybe that really was the warning. Have you thought about digging into it, rolling with it, trying to figure out if there's some kind of indicator, or path, or—"
    Arik snorted. "No. See, the thing is? I don't really pursue it. I'm more inclined to shut it down when I feel it creeping up on me."
    Blaze laid a palm over Arik's fingers, holding them in place, and it was only then that Arik realised his previously light touches had become more of a dig. "Can I ask you why?"
    "Long story." Arik stood; started pacing.
    "I have time," Blaze prompted.
    "My father—" Arik caught a breath and stopped. He swallowed a couple of times to force down the sudden rise of bile. "He was maniacal about things that were beyond the normal realm of consciousness. Books. Pamphlets. Scrolls." He turned and lifted an eyebrow at Blaze. "Yes, scrolls even. Where most religious freaks fear the metaphysical, Dad considered them gifts. But not gifts for one's own use, Blaze. God, no. They were tools. To right wrongs and vanquish evil. To manipulate thought and correct the things he saw as shortcomings in other people. Godlessness. Homosexuality. Whorish behaviour. Fuck, I don't even know. I wasn't that old when he finally flung himself into his deities' arms the hard way. But I do know this—he terrified me. It was easier to deny that there was anything there, than to get stuck being part of any of it. He'd tell me to watch, and I'd tell him that I didn't see anything."
    "Did you?"
    Arik's reply was a whisper. "Yes."
    "Like?"
    "Awful things," Arik admitted. "Let's just say that the goat has cousins everywhere."
    Blaze nodded. "Things little boys shouldn't see."
    Arik parroted the head bob, and Blaze reached for, then handed him back his wine. "Okay. Good to know. Whatever it means, at least now we both have an idea of it." He leaned his own glass forward and tapped it against the side of Arik's. The bright sound of crystal checking crystal pinged through the room—a cymbal, a bell, as though announcing the call to game.
    On your mark ... get set ...
    Blaze smiled. "Ready to eat?"
    "Not quite." Arik took a sip to seal the toast, and