As he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, I forced my gaze to remain locked on his face.
“Do you think everyone is ready to leave?” I asked, pretending my face wasn’t fire engine red.
“Yes.”
He turned and started walking away. I had no choice but to follow the full moon out of the woods. It was a nice walk back.
When we reached the building, Carlos pointed at the back door as he veered left to walk around to the parking lot. I went inside and found everyone sipping water at the bar.
The seat next to Bethi was open, so I carefully made my way to it. It seemed the clarity from the run in the woods and those intense moments on the ground had started to fade, and my eyes refused to focus as they should. It made walking a little tricky. That my head felt light and fuzzy didn’t help either. No one else looked like they felt any better than I did. I couldn’t be sure if it was the alcohol or the mysterious and slightly creepy mood change they’d all gone through just before I’d left.
“Are you all right?” I asked Bethi as I sat next to her.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“What happened to all of you?”
“You did.”
“What do you mean?”
She glanced at the bartender. Winifred, at the far end of the bar, called the man over to her and started a conversation.
“You can take people’s emotions, pulling so many that people lose their will to live. Like those Urbat you...” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, when you’re full of emotion, you can also push it back out, forcing foreign emotions into the people around you. When there’s enough of it, the emotions seem to overload their brains and make for a very violent death.”
“How do you know this?”
“Been there, dreamed it.”
“Why didn’t you say something before now?” I asked, getting angry. I might have done something different the night that Ethan—
“You didn’t survive in the dream.”
That cut off my growing anger.
“Oh.”
So when I’d felt so full of happiness before, I hadn’t pushed it out into the air but into everyone around me. It hadn’t hurt me, and it hadn’t hurt them. But I hadn’t been that full of emotion, either. I realized what that meant for me. The next time I faced the Urbat, I could pull/push emotions like a pulse. They wouldn’t be able to get close to me. And, I bet the more I held in before pushing it out, the more it would affect the people around me.
Carlos came in just then, drawing my attention. Dressed once again in slacks and a polo, he looked just like his old self. However, the image of his naked backside was burned into my retinal memory.
“Are there any other hidden talents I should know about?” I asked Bethi, trying to distract myself.
“If there are, I haven’t dreamt them,” she said. “I really hope you’ll be able to fix the hangover I’m going to have tomorrow.”
“Sorry, babe. Hangovers aren’t emotions.”
Carlos strode across the room, his focus entirely too intense. I looked away and caught sight of my flushed face in the mirror behind the bar.
A second later, Carlos stood behind me. Our gazes met in the mirror. My chest felt tight, and my heart didn’t want to beat right. The dumb organ couldn’t make up its mind if it wanted to be fast, slow, or just stop.
“You should try to eat,” he said, placing the leftover container in front of me. “Please.”
I nodded, flustered by my reaction to him, and opened the box. The burger was cold from being in the car so long. I took a bite anyway. It was good and made my stomach feel better. Bethi stole a piece of my bacon.
By the time I managed half the burger, I felt normal. Still drunk but not flustered. I set the rest of the burger back into the container.
“Finished?” Carlos asked.
“All yours,” I said, nudging the container to the side. He reached around me, and his arm brushed mine. The skin under my sleeve tingled at the contact. So much for normal. I kept my gaze locked on my glass of water. Twice, I almost used the mirror behind the bar to see if he was looking at me.
A stool scraped along the hardwood floor.
“Looks like it’s time to go,” Bethi said.
I glanced up and saw the Elders standing. Winifred was handing the bartender a decent tip for a thankfully slow weekday afternoon.
Carlos set the empty container next to my elbow and offered me his hand. I knew he only meant to help me from the stool, but I couldn’t touch him.
“I’ve got it,” I said. My ungraceful slither from the stool didn’t support my words.
He followed closely as I moved toward the door.