Chapter 10 Knox
Knox
Mason's truck rolls to a stop near our apartment.
Beth is asleep, the side of her head against the passenger window, Mason's jacket still around her shoulders, one hand curled into the collar. The streetlight catches the fog of her breath on the glass.
Nobody moves for about ten seconds.
"We should get her inside," Mason says quietly, and kills the ignition.
He gets out, rounds the hood and eases the passenger door open while I lean forward from the backseat and reach over to cup the back of her head. She lolls into my palm and her eyes flutter.
"Mmm." She opens her eyes. "Hi."
"Hi," I say, smiling as I gaze into her eyes.
"Hey Beth." Mason's voice drops from the open door, the usual gravel in his tone smoothing out into something impossibly gentle. "We're home."
"Oh." She turns her head and looks at the apartment building. Her eyes are doing about fifteen percent of their job. "Mm-hm. Far."
She yawns into the jacket collar and puts a hand out toward Mason. "Help me up?"
"I got something better," he says. Reaches in. One arm under her knees, one behind her back, and lifts her out gently, like she weighs about as much as a light bag of groceries. Beth lets out a soft oh and curls into his chest, her fingers finding the front of his shirt.
"Comfy?" Mason asks, almost not a question.
"Mmhm." Her eyes are already closed again.
Arthur and I get out. I close the truck door. Arthur holds the building entrance. I catch it behind them, and Mason takes the stairwell steps carefully, adjusting his grip at each landing. For a man I saw once carry a dishwasher up these stairs, he's being considerably more gentle with Beth.
"Don't drop me," she mumbles on the second flight.
"Never," he replies, his voice still low.
Arthur gets our apartment door. I move past them into Beth's room and flip on the low light, pull back the sheets.
Mason crosses the room and lowers her down slowly, easing her back until her head finds the pillow.
His hand stays behind her neck an extra second.
Then he slides it out, careful, and Beth makes a small sound.
Arthur works her shoes off, sets them side by side at the foot of the bed. Slips out, comes back with a glass of water for the nightstand.
"Could you... could you get me my pajamas," Beth says into the pillow. One arm extends vaguely toward the wardrobe. "The soft ones."
I open the wardrobe, find them, and come back with the pajamas folded over my arm.
Beth opens one eye. Registers the pajamas. Registers my face.
"Thanks." She takes them. "I will manage that part myself."
"Oh—yes... naturally." I step back, feeling my face go crimson.
Mason's jacket is still around her shoulders. He doesn't take it back.
"Night, Beth," we all say from the doorway.
"Night." It's already mostly a sleep-sound. "Thank you for carrying me."
Mason actually smiles.
We file out. I take one last look, and pull the door shut.
The lock clicks into place with a quiet, final sound, and the three of us stand in the hallway.
"The smell," Arthur murmurs without any preamble. "At the clearing. What was that?"
Mason's jaw tightens. So they both smelled it.
"I don't know," I say. And that's the problem. We've been around Beth for weeks. She smells good but she sure never hit us like that.
"It was sweet," Arthur says. "But not—sweet isn't the right word. It was—"
"Intoxicating," Mason says.
Can confirm. It was like her scent enthralled me.
"But it doesn't make any sense at all," I say. "She's been living with us and we all know she doesn't smell like that... and I'm quite sure she's not on scent blockers."
"So what do you think happened?" Arthur asks.
"Don't laugh but, we ate rich food. Pheromone response can be affected by diet, alcohol, environmental—"
"So the tacos did it," Mason says, deadpan.
"I'm saying it's possible," I reply.
"Come on man, you can't be serious—"
"I'm saying we're exhausted," I cut in, keeping my voice low. "Scent profiles fluctuate. A sudden spike like that could be triggered by a dozen different variables. Yes, food included. There are studies on this."
Mason stares at Beth's door. It takes a visible physical effort for him to finally pull his gaze away.
"Let's keep a cool head guys," I say. "If this wasn't a fluke, we'll know soon enough."