Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
EZRA
Lilith was purring loudly enough to wake the dead, the vibrations rumbling down through his chest. Ezra cracked open an eye and saw his darling familiar nose to nose with him, her golden eyes unblinking.
“Breakfast, huh?” He turned his head just enough to see the flap that served as a doorway, and sure enough, there was a hint of light that appeared to be natural and not from the huge lightbulb banks looming over the camp.
Lilith kneaded her claws into his chest, and he winced, though he heeded her unsubtle demands and got up. Or tried to.
“Good morning, baby,” Ezra hugged her to his chest and planted the required kisses to her forehead, her purrs increasing in volume as she accepted her due. After five kisses he opened his arms and she leapt daintily to the floor of the tent, meowing insistently for her breakfast.
Her Royal Highness required feeding before anything else could be done, and so he rolled off the dismally too-short cot assigned to him and stretched, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping on a thin mattress pad.
He was used to horrible sleeping conditions on missions, but he always woke up sore.
Too much comfort between contracts to truly become acclimated to roughing it.
His bags were deposited in the tent sometime the evening before while he was busy with Monica, and he double-checked that everything was there before cracking open the travel case holding Lilith’s food.
Temperature controlled, the case was sealed by spells and helped maintain the freshness of anything stored within.
He sourced her food from a specialty shop in San Francisco, and it was worth the expense.
The case held her food and a small jug of filtered water.
He read the label of the first container he grabbed.
“Fresh quail and hare. Yum.” She meowed, louder, impatient as only a cat could be.
He dug out her food bowl, refreshed her water from the water jug, and hurried to feed her before she tripped him in her haste to eat.
She happily dug in, growling a bit as she tore through the fresh ground meats and supplemented kibbles.
“Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll be back. Don’t stray too far from the tent. ”
Digging out his toiletry kit, Ezra grabbed a towel from a short stack set on the tiny table in his tent and clean clothes before ducking out of the tent. He squinted in the odd light, lifting a hand to block the sharpest rays of dawn.
The huge light towers were at about half-power, and in the far, far distance in the east, the sun was rising.
The trees of the dense forest blocked most of what light made it under the distant edge of the storm, and he suspected that once the sun rose high enough, the storm would block out the light entirely.
A few lucky rays of light cut through the forest, nearly blinding him as his eyes struggled to adjust, and he quickly looked away.
Following dimly recalled directions from the previous night, Ezra hurried to the latrines to take care of his most urgent need, and then ambled off in the direction of the showers.
Nothing fancy at a MERS base camp—just the tall, dark-green tent with multiple huge hundred-gallon blue water tanks and pumps at the back, and a few roped walls with tarps hanging to partition off stalls.
It was empty when he got inside, and he took advantage, getting a stall closest to where the water got piped in through the rear wall of the tent.
He smelled and heard a gas-powered water heater turning on as he flipped on the shower head and stripped down.
It might have been the middle of summer, but the cloud cover kept it far cooler than it should have been, so he washed up as thoroughly as he could in a handful of minutes.
Thankful he couldn’t grow a beard and never needed to shave, Ezra rinsed off before he brushed his teeth in the cooling spray.
No magic wasted here in maintaining the comforts of home—a decision he understood completely, even if he still wished for a longer shower.
He could warm the water himself, but he didn’t want to make the effort.
It took him nearly twelve hours to reach the base camp, and he was glad to wash off the previous day’s traveling.
Ezra turned off the water, alone with the sound of water dripping and the increasing, though muffled sounds of the camp waking up.
He dried off as best he could with the thin towel and gave up trying to dry his hair after a few passes over his head.
Blessed with his mother’s thick, straight black hair, he kept it no longer than four or five inches at the top.
If it was shorter it stuck straight up and looked ridiculous, and any longer and it took a whole day to dry, and he hated blow dryers.
They took up too much space in his bags when he traveled for jobs, and the noise irritated him.
And the last time he tried a spell to dry his hair, he ended up burning off a good portion and he looked ridiculous for several months.
Somehow his fire affinity failed him at the worst moment.
Personal hygiene magics were not in his wheelhouse.
Dressing in his skintight armored and bespelled pants, Ezra checked the spells set in the leather and poly-mix cloth.
It had metal rings set along the outside of each thigh where he could attach different gear components, and it regulated his temperature and prevented injury from sharp weapons and high-velocity impacts.
He was immune to fire thanks to his affinity, and therefore didn’t need that spell component included, which saved him several thousand dollars.
He made sure his plain, black cotton t-shirt was tucked into the waistband, ready to go if he needed to put on the rest of his gear.
Cotton was the best choice after silk to prevent chafing.
Voices interrupted his musing, and Ezra tugged on his boots, thankful he was dressed before two men walked into the shower tent and headed down the aisle, pausing at his stall. It was the last stall on that side, and he figured they chose it for the same reason he did.
One man blushed red-hot and stammered an apology, and the other, a brick house of a man, eyed Ezra from top to bottom before smiling widely.
They were wearing pants, boots, and MERS-issued undershirts, and had towels slung over their shoulders; the bigger guy had an arm wrapped around the other man.
Maybe not quite the same reason Ezra chose it, then.
“Hey, you’re the curse-breaker, right?” the tall guy asked, looking at Ezra with blatant curiosity, dragging his gaze from head to toes. Ezra didn’t mind in the least—both men were hot and he liked the way they leaned into each other.
“Yup, that’s me,” Ezra said as he gathered up his stuff, double-checking that he wasn’t forgetting anything.
He squeezed out past the tall guy and winked at the smaller dude, who blushed even redder and looked down at his feet.
Ezra might be oblivious more often than not but even he was able to grasp what they were about in the shower tent. “You two have a lovely morning.”
A snort of amusement followed him out of the shower tent.
Lilith was lounging in the grass outside their tent cleaning her front paws.
Her toes were spread out and while the hair was sparse due to her breed, her nails were brilliant white and needle-sharp.
She didn’t even acknowledge him as he ducked inside the tent, tossing his stuff on the cot and hanging the towel to dry on one of the support beams holding up the roof of the tent.
It wasn’t horrible as far as tents went—big enough for him to stand up straight without hitting his head, with space for a cot, a small folding table and chair, and his stuff. It was a deep green in a camo pattern, fitting with the MERS vibe.
Now that he was awake enough to be thinking, he dug out a water bottle from the travel kit and then went hunting for his meds, finding the prescription bottle in with Lilith’s food.
He never forgot her gear when he was traveling with his familiar, and keeping the pills with her stuff meant he never forgot them.
He struggled for a second to fish out one of the small, round brick-colored pills, swallowed it with a few hearty mouthfuls of water, and made sure to secure the lid on the pills and put the bottle back exactly where he found it, reinforcing the habit and reassuring himself he hadn’t misplaced it.
He kept his eyes on the pills the whole time, so he had the memory of taking the meds and putting them away properly.
Sometimes on hectic cases he would have trouble remembering whether or not he took them and where he put the pills, and that led to trouble further down the line—getting early replacements was impossible, and he didn’t want the pills accessible to someone else in case of misplacing the bottle.
He set about unpacking Lilith’s gear. Her plush bed that he set near his cot, a few toys, and her vest covered in dainty charms and spellwork.
Most of the time he took her with him on location and he made sure she was as protected as possible.
Her vest covered her chest, back, and sides to about mid-flank, the same deep red as his armored corset.
After MERS hired him, he made sure there would be a base camp, a secure place for his stuff, and enough guarantee that she’d be safe—rarely did he decide not to bring Lilith along on a contract case, even the dangerous ones, unless there was no safe place for him to set up, like a hotel or a guest room.
Ezra made sure the miniature red armor harness was in good shape, no worse for wear after being packed away, admiring the deep-red hue and the embossed designs in the leather and silk, identical to his own armor.
They had to match, after all.