Sorcerer's Luck

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Authors: Katharine Kerr
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ate in silence.
    â€œI like cats,” Tor said abruptly, “but I was afraid to get one once I was—” He lowered
his voice. “bitten, you know.” He glanced around, but no one was in hearing
range. “What if the bjarki killed it? They’re omnivores, bears. They eat
animals when they can catch them.”
    â€œThey do? Crap! I always thought they lived on berries and honey.”
    â€œOnly in the kids’ movies. They even paw fish out of streams.” He paused to put the last
piece of the dosa onto my plate. “If you’re going to be there for those days, I
guess I could get a couple of kittens. You’ll be locking me in. They’ll be
safe.”
    â€œAnd I can play with them when I’m there.”
    He smiled, and the cute dimple got a little deeper and cuter. We lingered over chai and
halvah for maybe another half-hour. When we left, he shook my hand and strode
away. At the corner, at a crossroads as he’d called it, he disappeared. As I
walked back to my car, I had to admit that I wished he’d stayed a little
longer.
    Maybe I’m stuck with being a vampire, but I refused to sponge off my friends in that way
or any other way. Tuesday I offered to pay Cynthia and Brittany back for the
lunch they’d shared with me. They laughed and waved me off.
    â€œWhat’ll you bet, though,” I said, “that my brother shows up soon? He always seems to
know when I’ve got money.”
    â€œWhat kind of drugs is he on, anyway?” Brittany said.
    â€œI don’t know, for sure. It can’t be heroin, because I’ve seen him in short-sleeved
shirts, and he doesn’t have needle marks.”
    â€œHe could be snorting it. I saw this on the news. People who never would have used
needles, but they breathe this stuff in through their noses.” Brittany made a
sour face. “Yuck! Real glamorous, huh?”
    â€œYeah, for sure! Maybe that’s it, then. Sometimes when I see Roman he’s really out there
somewhere. He sees things moving that aren’t moving, letters on billboards,
pictures, that kind of stuff.”
    â€œThat sounds more like opium,” Cynthia put in.
    â€œI’ll take your word for it,” I said. “The only drugs he’s ever actually mentioned are
painkillers, codeine and oxy-something.”
    â€œHe might use those when he can’t get the other stuff,” Cynthia said.
    â€œCodeine’s super-addictive,” Brittany put in. “It’s bad all by itself. Not as bad as
heroin, but still! Yuck!”
    Sure enough, Roman smelled money and tracked me down. On Wednesday the three of us
had just come out of class when we saw Roman walking toward us across the lawn.
In the hot bright noontide he was wearing a pair of torn-up jeans and a faded
olive khaki T-shirt, but at least they looked clean. He smelled like he’d had a
shower and a shave recently, too.
    The T-shirt hung loose on Roman’s chest. He’d cinched in the jeans with a belt. I hated
seeing him look so hungry, but if I gave him cash, he wouldn’t spend it on
food. He smiled at me, a wan little twitch of his mouth.
    â€œMaya?” he said. “Can I um uh talk with you? Just for a minute.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I’m not giving you money. I’m not going to help you hurt yourself.”
    He blushed scarlet, glanced at Cynthia, then turned around and took a few steps away. I
could guess that he’d just realized my friends knew about the drug problem. I’d
humiliated him without meaning to. When I went after him, he kept his back
turned toward me.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said. “But I get so worried about you I have to share it with someone.”
    He turned around, trembling, and stared at the ground in front of my feet.
    â€œRo, please listen!” I used his childhood nickname on purpose. “Please! Can’t you get help
somewhere? You’re never going

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