Chapter 10 #2
Jade’s eyes went huge—absolutely humongous—and she stared directly past me.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “That’s that bat!
” I would have thought she heard him, but that was impossible.
It was still a pretty big problem that she’d seen him, her hand trembling as she pointed.
I froze, unable to do anything but watch as her gaze tracked upward to Belfry, dangling from his perch.
Shock widened her eyes until they shone.
“He’s real?” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“I’m going nuts, aren’t I? I’m actually losing it. ”
I shot Belfry a murderous look that promised a long and painful reckoning.
He flinched guiltily, but that lasted only half a second, then he had the audacity to wink.
Fantastic. “You’re not crazy,” I said quickly.
“He’s mine, and he’s perfectly safe! It’s normal.
” A lie. That was such a giant lie. Normal?
There was nothing normal about a talking bat wearing a red silk vest.
“Here.” I grabbed the nearest bottle of red, unfortunately, a two-hundred-year-old vintage worth more than her car, and shoved it into her hands while steering her toward the exit. No taking that back now; that would be even more rude than I was already being.
“Wait...” she tried. Her hands nearly fumbled the slick glass bottle.
I steadied them, my skin tingling at each point of contact.
With a little push, she ended up cradling the pricey vintage against her chest, and the next made her turn toward the door.
Heat was streaking across her cheeks, and my gaze wanted to drop lower, to the pulse point in her throat. I refused.
“Goodbye,” I said, opening the door and practically depositing her onto the sidewalk. Then I slammed it shut; the silence afterward was deafening. Very slowly, I turned. The blood rushing in my ears indicated the level of my fury.
Belfry dangled upside down, watching me with a smug, knowing expression.
You’re welcome, he chirped, as if he had no clue at all what kind of mayhem he’d caused.
From Jade’s reaction, it was obvious she’d spotted him in the library earlier that day, and it had rattled her, a lot.
Now I’d made things worse by throwing her out of my store like she was the criminal, when in reality, it was me—me and my obnoxious bat companion.
“You,” I said, advancing, “are the reason I can’t have peace for even ten minutes.
” I rounded the counter, my hand trailing over the smooth oak surface, grounding me with its steady presence.
Belfry did not seem to think he was in any danger, hanging from his branch-like perch, a wooden sculpture of a tree ísarr had made for us years ago.
Oh please. Belfry fanned his wings dramatically and blinked. Then he straightened his little waistcoat with the thumb claws jutting from his wings. She didn’t even hear me this time. Not like earlier in the… He abruptly trailed off when his brain seemed to catch up with what he was about to reveal.
I froze, horror flashing through me, bright and powerful. She heard him? “What did you just say?” Even though I had heard him just fine, I had to ask, had to hear him say it again. There was no way that could be right; I wanted very badly to be mistaken.
He blinked innocently. I said she didn’t hear me this time.
Earlier, she… To his credit, he forged on rather than backtrack, not denying that he’d messed up and shown himself either, although, of course, he didn’t come right out and say it.
Perhaps he thought that aiming his big eyes my way and cutely flicking his ears would get him out of trouble.
“Earlier.” My voice scraped low, the anger in my veins simmering until it combusted.
“Earlier, she WHAT?” I clutched the counter next to me, and the wood groaned in my tight grip, threatening to splinter if I did not let up.
I yanked back my hand as if I’d been burned; control, I needed to stay in control.
This was no time to slip up and turn into a savage, whatever my instincts might say.
He flinched, his wings shuffling again, but there was nothing easygoing or casual about him now.
Well. She. Might have. Heard. Me. A little?
he stuttered out, his words ending on a high note like he was posing a question.
Might have heard him, a little? Either she’d heard him, or she hadn’t…
We both knew what the answer was to that.
I stared at him; he stared back. Then, for the first time in my entire undead existence, my knees gave out.
I dropped hard into the chair behind me.
The weight of the truth slammed through me like a falling cathedral.
No, this was impossible. It was utterly unthinkable.
Unwanted. Inevitable. Ah, hell… now what was I supposed to do?
Oh, Belfry said, head tilting. Why do you look like that? Did I say something wrong? It seemed he had finally caught on that something was seriously not right. His unease spread as he opened his wings and fluttered, soft wind fanning against my overheated forehead.
“No,” my voice was barely a whisper. “You said something impossible.” So impossible that it had been staring me in the face all this time, and I hadn’t been willing to see it—hadn’t believed it—and I’d blamed every inconvenient thought and feeling on her, on this town, and even on poor Belfry.
The bat fluttered down, landing lightly on my shoulder.
Luther? he asked, concerned. He butted his furred little head against my jaw, huddling against my skin and offering comfort in his small way.
I closed my eyes, because I knew what it meant—what it had always meant—and, thank every ancient power in existence, Belfry hadn’t figured it out yet.