Rayguns readied, swords drawn, energy shield activated, fangs bared — they charged into the Smoking Lounge, and within a minute, they safely disposed of all the shades. Arthur felt good about how easy that had been. He wasn’t really afraid of the shades anymore, but he was worried about the wraiths, since they were supposed to be a lot tougher. Still, the numina had taken out one of them earlier on the way to the Armory, and that was without any help from his guns or Morgan’s shield. And while Lady Ylliara had spoken of the warlock in a way that had made Arthur assume he’d never stand a chance, he was starting to think otherwise. He was a Paladin, after all. He may not have had the training, but he was born for this. Maybe he’d be okay after all.

The Smoking Lounge did indeed have big, plump leather chairs and couches, along with a bookshelf packed with musty tomes, a small table with a chess set, a pool table in the back, and a jukebox — in mint condition — with vinyl records. Beside each chair stood an engraved silver ashtray on a wooden pedestal, and on the wall hung a collection of ornate smoking pipes, some with strange curling shapes. Grandpa Nelson had left Arthur his smoking pipe when he died, but Grandma Nelson had taken it away saying Arthur could have it when he grew up, because by then he would have the good sense to never try smoking one. Grandma Nelson was a firm believer that when you turned eighteen years old you suddenly attained a heap of wisdom, as if by magic. Arthur had tried to explain that he didn’t need to be an adult to know that smoking was bad for him, but she just wouldn’t listen.

Arthur examined the jukebox. “I’ve never heard of any of these people: Thelonious Monk … Duke Ellington … Count Basie … Dizzie Gillespie … Sun Ra …”

“I’ve never heard of them either,” Morgan said, “though Ra is the Egyptian God of the Sun.”

“Jazz artists, my dear,” said Lexi. “There is no finer form of music than jazz.”

“Almost half the songs are by this Sun Ra guy,” Arthur said with a shrug. He started to hit the button for one, but Morgan shook her head.

“I can’t handle music right now. I need quiet.”

“Maybe later, then.”

Morgan cringed. “Yeah … maybe …”

Arthur was asleep within a minute of sinking into one of the soft, high-back leather chairs … until a paw batted him hard on the nose.

“Stay awake,” Lexi said.

Arthur took a book from the shelf: Rocket Ships of the Andromeda. He flipped through it … his eyes widening with each page … then excitedly, he read the title out to Morgan.

“Is that fiction?” she said.

He showed her the book and its pictures of rocket ships that looked like they’d come straight out of old sci-fi movies.

“Surely it has to be,” Morgan said. “Those can’t be actual — hey! I can read this.”

“Well, obviously.”

“Look at the letters, Arthur. Look real close.”

Arthur peered at them, focused, and — “Hey, those aren’t English letters! But … but I can read it.” He shook his head. “I honestly thought it was English. Must be magic.”

“Stop saying that,” Morgan said.

“I’m going to keep saying it until you come up with a better explanation.”

“You just wait — I will.”

Arthur curled up in the chair with the book open … and he fell asleep. When Lexi pawed him awake again, Morgan was flipping the pages of another book and saying things like “yuck” and “disgusting” as she went.

“What are you looking at?”

“Creatures of Pagagluck,” she replied, “which is some planet on the other side of the galaxy. Mostly it's pictures.”

He walked over and looked. Morgan was right — the creatures were disgusting. Everything on Pagagluck was slimy, scaly, tentacled, and oozing something: venom, poisonous vapor, acid, or … muck spiders?! How could something ooze a spider? And he could tell this book — if he squinted just right — was also written in an alien language with twisting letters.

“So,” Morgan said. “Are you ever going to explain how you managed to save me from the training monster?”

“What do you mean?”

“You jumped out in front of it.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You shouldn’t have been able to make it there in time, but you were moving fast — almost superhuman fast.”

“It was just adrenaline,” he lied. He really didn’t want to discuss the power that had come over him, because it was like the feeling from his tantrums, only far stronger — and it scared the crap out of him.

“No, it was definitely more than that,” Lexi said. “I’m not sure that I could even run that fast.”

Arthur sighed. “It felt … sort of like … you know when the Manse shifted, and I told you it was like I had a second heartbeat? I’ve gotten that feeling a few times before, like earlier today when I got really angry at Derek. Usually, it’s like I’m surrounded by darkness, but this time it was like there was light surrounding me instead — and it was stronger.”

“The Power of the Multiversal Paladin,” Lexi declared. “Er … I mean … I guess that’s what it is.”

“It’s happening more as I get older, but it’s usually very brief and I don’t get stronger or anything, I just get uncontrollably angry. Like when I threw that book in class.”

“What triggered it in the Training Room?” Morgan asked.

He stared into her storm-blue eyes. You did. I didn’t want to see you get hurt.

Of course, there was no way he was going to tell her that.

He shrugged. “I guess the danger we were in … or … whatever.” He glanced rapidly around the room, looking for a way to escape this conversation. “Have you ever played pool before?”

“No,” Morgan replied after a pause, perplexed no doubt by the sudden shift in topic. “And I don’t want to.”

“Well, I’ve got to do something more active if I’m going to stay awake. I’m too tired to read, and if I sit down, I’m going to fall asleep.”

“Fine,” she huffed, “but I’ve never played before.”

“I have … a few times. I know how to play nine-ball … I think. I’ll show you.”

For what seemed a long time, they played pool badly. Morgan was brilliant and beautiful, but she stunk at pool — her aim was just as bad with a cue as it was with a raygun.

“I’m not unathletic,” she said, after losing a third time without sinking a single ball. “I can run for miles. I just can’t do this sort of … precision stuff.”

Lexi and Vassalus cheered them on, though Vassalus couldn’t keep the rules straight and kept referring to the game as snooker. During the fifth match, Lexi leapt onto the table and attacked the balls, sending them flying all over the room. Once she calmed down, she was terribly embarrassed.

“I have no idea what came over me,” she said, as she hid behind one of the big leather chairs.

Finally, halfway through their eighth, or maybe ninth, game, Morgan groaned and tossed her cue onto the table.

“Arthur, I don’t care if I die from going to sleep with a concussion. I’m exhausted and I’m hurting all over. My head doesn’t even feel as bad as the rest of me.”

“All right then. Let’s each take a couch.”

Arthur curled up on one couch, wishing he had a blanket, while Morgan took the other. Lexi and Vassalus took up positions in front of the door that led to the hallway, while Arms and Valet guarded the door leading back into the dining hall.

“Valet, is there some way to dim the lights?” Arthur asked.

Valet clapped his hands once, and the lights dimmed to halfway. He tilted his head toward Arthur.

“That’s good,” Arthur replied. He didn’t want to sleep in total darkness — not here. “Goodnight, Morgan.”

She didn’t respond, and he figured she’d already gone to sleep, but just when he started to drift off she said, “Arthur …”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“Thanks. Thanks for … for saving my life.”

“You saved me first, remember? Don’t worry about it. We'll probably be saving each other a lot, you know.”

Again, just as he was falling asleep, Morgan said, “Arthur …”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“We are friends …”

“We are,” Arthur agreed. Now.

“Arthur … you … you're my only friend.”

Arthur sighed. “You're my only friend, too, Morgan. Now let me sleep.”