Retribution(8)

Morrigan and Daleen took a long look at each other. Then they breathed deep and turned to their granddaughter.

“You’re right,” Morrigan conceded, leaning over to kiss Layla’s head. “Rhosewen would tell us to leave and come back when we were ready to see the glass half-full.”

“Well don't make me kick you out,” Layla playfully warned.

Morrigan stole one more whiff of Layla’s hair then straightened. “I can hear Rhosewen as clearly as I hear you.”

She kissed Layla's hand then let it slip away, but apparently she wasn’t strong enough to handle this one on her own, because she immediately fled to Caitrin, who welcomed her with open arms.

He lifted a palm to her cheek as he worriedly searched her face, and she reassured him with a small smile. “Help me get everyone coffee?”

“Of course,” he agreed, taking her under his arm. Then they headed for the kitchenette. “Does everyone want some?”

Mumbles of agreement floated through the room as six more seats were summoned to the table, and within seconds the golden family was gathered with fresh coffee in hand.

Caitrin summoned a pipe and lit it with a flaming fingertip. Then he passed it to Morrigan, who took a pull before passing it to Daleen. Layla curiously watched the exchange while sniffing the air, but every time someone exhaled smoke, they waved a magical hand and swept the fumes away.

When Daleen passed the pipe to Serafin, who also partook, Layla raised an eyebrow at Quin. “What are they smoking?”

“Cannabis,” he answered, as casual as ever, like they were passing around tea and cookies.

Layla flipped her stunned gaze to Kemble, who took his turn before passing the pipe to Cordelia.

“Are you serious?” Layla asked, turning back to Quin.

He smiled as he tucked a curl behind her ear and smoothed her wrinkled brow. “Yes. It’s a natural relaxant; eases stress and helps us think calmly when emotions are high.”

“Do you smoke it?”

“Sometimes.” He slid a forefinger down her nose and lightly tapped the tip. “You've never tried it?”

“No. I’ve seen people smoke it, but I thought it was bad for you.”

“Smoking isn’t good for your lungs, but we're healers, so that's not an issue for us.”

“It's also illegal,” she pointed out, and several people in the room laughed.

“We don't live by the government's rules,” Quin returned, accepting the pipe from his mom. “And the law doesn't make much sense in the first place. Luckily for the hexless, state legislatures are catching on. Medical marijuana is legal in Oregon.”

“It is?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm… So you guys wait until I’m bonded into the family to spring the drugs on me?”

Again, several people laughed, and Quin smiled as he wiggled her nose. “You’ve seen Caitrin smoke it.”

“I have?”

“Yes, and you’ll see it again. Most magicians smoke as often as they drink.” He paused and held up the pipe. “Would you like to try it? Few people could benefit from its calming effect more than you. You’ve had a shitty week.”

“Um… I probably shouldn’t. I don't know how, and I don't want to be stupid.”

“It won't make you stupid, Layla. I promise.”

“I've seen people smoke it, and they’d get goofy.”

“Do they look stupid or goofy?” he asked, motioning to the others.

Layla looked at them, noting their auras were more peaceful than before, and their expressions held calm amusement as they watched her and Quin's conversation. “No, I guess they don't, but they've done it before. It might be different with me.”

“It's your choice, love, but I promise it would merely relax you.”

Layla stared at the pipe, thinking it would be an interesting experience if nothing else, and the relaxation he spoke of was tempting. “I don't know, Quin. I feel weird about it.”

“How about I help you, and you just inhale a small amount?”

“How would you do that?”

He stared at her face for a moment, then her aura. Then he winked and tucked the stem of the pipe in his mouth. Layla watched closely as he lit the weed and sucked, and when he pulled the pipe from his lips, he pulled her to them, kissing while releasing half the smoke into her mouth. His mental voice invaded her head, telling her to inhale as he deepened his kiss, and she lazily obeyed, so wrapped up in him she practically forgot about the herb. The smoke hotly entered her lungs. Then it rolled from her nostrils, but she was concentrating on the softness of his lips and tongue, so she barely noticed.

The weed… or his mouth… or a combination of the two, made her melt, and he enhanced the experience by blindly passing the pipe along and wrapping her in a warm hug. A long and blissful moment passed before he pulled his lips from hers. Then he searched her eyes and aura before kissing her nose. “How do you feel? Stupid or goofy?”