Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
HANNAH
I wake up feeling like I actually got decent sleep for the first time since arriving in this supernatural hell, and my first thought is: Holy shit, he actually respected the barred door.
I sit up, blinking toward the entrance I blocked last night. Part of me expected to wake up to Abaddon looming over my bed like some stalker vampire, but nope. The door is still barred, still intact, and I’m still alone.
Maybe there’s hope for him after all.
My stomach chooses that moment to remind me it exists with a growl that could probably be heard in the next mountain over. When did I last eat? Did I even have dinner last night? Everything after the Four Horsemen revelation is kind of a blur of emotional devastation and existential crisis.
Speaking of which...
My hand flies to my stomach. Right. Still pregnant. With Pestilence’s baby. Because my life has officially become a supernatural soap opera.
What the actual fuck am I going to do?
For a hot second, I hear Drew’s voice in my head: “Don’t worry about anything, babe. I’ll take care of everything.”
And God, for about six months, that felt like the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me.
He swooped in after Grandma died and Mom was too much of a mess to take care of anything.
Drew just... handled it all. He got estate dealers to clean out her house, he dealt with all the logistics of the funeral, and he made all the decisions Mom was too grief-stricken to make.
Then it just seemed natural for him to start taking care of other things for me, too.
It started small. Sharing a phone plan. Then, after we moved in together, having him handle the bills made sense; he was better with money.
And if we had so many joint bills, it was only logical to have a joint bank account.
We were getting married anyway, right? And when he suggested getting rid of my car—why have two when we worked in the same building? —well, that just seemed logical, too.
Everyone thought it was so romantic how he’d show up at the end of every workday to “help” carry my bag.
“You’re so lucky,” they’d say. “Especially considering...” And their eyes would drop to my wheelchair on the bad days, finishing the sentence they were too polite to say out loud.
Yeah. Lucky me.
Little by little, my world got smaller. Safer, he called it. Book club was too stressful after work. Craft circle with my friends made me cranky, which I took out on poor Drew, who didn’t deserve it. He was so good to me, after all.
So fucking good to me that I ended up with no friends, no car, no bank account, and no life outside of what he decided was best for me.
But that was love, right? That was what a good man did. He protected you from stress and difficulty.
Except now, sitting in a monster’s castle, pregnant with a supernatural baby, that old life feels like someone else’s dream. Or nightmare. I’ve felt more like myself in the past week than I did in the entire year I lived with Drew.
Which is either a sign of serious personal growth or a complete mental breakdown. Could go either way, honestly.
I slap myself across the face. Hard.
“Ow! Fuck!” I blink away the sting and look around. Still in a castle. Still knocked up by a Horseman of the Apocalypse. Well, it was worth a shot.
Time to face the music. Or the monsters. Same thing, really.
I head to the bathroom to grab one of the aprons I washed last night.
It’s basically frozen solid, but when I put it on, I find it barely bothers me.
Actually, nothing about this cold-ass castle bothers me anymore.
It’s like my internal temperature got cranked up to a “supernatural furnace” setting.
I’m headed for the kitchen when I hear voices from the dining room. All three brothers are sitting around the massive wooden table like some twisted version of a family breakfast. There’s even a bench that wasn’t there before.
“You’re late,” Abaddon growls from the head of the table, his eyes dark and moody. “I was about to send Thing to fetch you.”
Then—and I shit you not—he points to a plate of food on the floor next to his hooved feet.
Like I’m a fucking dog.
“Yeah, we’re done with that,” I say, swooping down to grab the plate before he can react.
I plop myself down between Thing and Remus, partly because it looks like the safest spot and partly because I know it’ll piss Abaddon off. Win-win.
The food is incredible—eggs, some kind of meat that probably used to have a face, and a whole tree of broccoli. I don’t care about utensils or manners or anything except getting this food in my mouth as fast as possible.
“Oh my God, this is amazing,” I moan around a mouthful of eggs. “What kind of meat is this?” I hold up a hand before Abaddon can answer. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know if I’m eating Bambi or something.”
“Does she make noises like this all the time?” Remus asks, abandoning his own food to watch me with fascination.
I wave my greasy fingers at him in a “shut up” gesture, but it’s too late. Abaddon goes full caveman mode.
“Don’t speak to my Hannah-consort.”
My Hannah-consort. Like I’m his personal property.
“Thing,” I say sweetly, turning to my unofficial bodyguard, “could you please remind your brother that he doesn’t own me and can’t control who I talk to?”
Thing looks between us uncertainly. “Hannah-consort says—”
Abaddon roars and sweeps his plate off the table. Food goes flying everywhere, and I actually gasp in horror. “The waste! All that perfectly good food!”
“You will speak to me!” he demands.
“Thing,” I continue calmly, still addressing my gentle giant, “please tell your brother that I’m not a dog who barks on command. He lost the right to give me orders when he grabbed me by the throat.”
Remus chuckles beside me. “See, brother? Father would be so proud. You really are a chip off the old block, treating everyone like animals.”
Abaddon jumps to his feet, growling like the very literal beast he is. At least he’s wearing pants now that his brothers are around. Small mercies.
I keep eating because this food is incredible and I’m apparently hungry enough to eat a whole cow.
“So how does the two-headed thing work for meals?” I ask Remus conversationally. “Do you share a stomach or take turns or what?”
Remus grins at me like I’m the most entertaining thing he’s seen in centuries. “Ready to ditch the animal yet?” He jerks his thumb toward Abaddon. “You need a real man.”
I choke on my food, and Abaddon loses what’s left of his mind.
“I think I’ll finish eating in peace somewhere else,” I announce, grabbing my plate and standing up. “You boys have fun working out your issues.”
I slip out as they start yelling at each other, but instead of going to my room, I head for the kitchen. I’m still hungry, and I can eat down there without worrying about supernatural temper tantrums.