Chapter 8 Consequences
CONSEQUENCES
RAE
Groaning, I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. My body ached as if I’d sparred ten rounds with Ronda Rousey.
All night I tossed and turned, tormented by nightmares. Monsters and blood. Screaming and fire. Nothing eased my mind, and I blamed the vodka.
Too much vodka, greasy pizza, and occult books made the perfect cocktail for my mind to play tricks on me, making me believe demons invaded my home in dreams so vivid they felt like memories.
There was no other explanation for why I felt comfortable feeding horned demons pizza while chatting in the living room as if it were a normal weeknight with friends.
Granted, they didn’t look demonic the entire time, but my mind betrayed me the same way it had betrayed Mom and Grandma. I couldn’t separate dreams from reality.
Maybe I should seek professional help. I’d finally reached the point where I believed I could interact with my hallucinations. Tim and Patricia would put me on the first bus to Broughton Hospital if they knew.
I sat up, threw my legs over the side of the bed, and stretched until my back popped. I needed coffee and then a long shower. Grabbing my pajama pants off the floor, I shimmied them over my hips, wincing when I put weight on my foot.
I sat down and lifted my foot, unwrapping the gauze to find fresh cuts of various sizes. I’d thought the glass was part of my dream, too. When had I wrapped my foot?
I rubbed my eyes and exhaled. I couldn’t think without caffeine.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and left the bedroom, discarding the gauze. I wasn’t bleeding, so I’d rewrap my foot after a shower and ointment.
Limping down the stairs, I turned the corner and jerked to a stop. My gaze fell on the sectional sofa, and reality crashed into me.
I hadn’t been dreaming.
This couldn’t be a hallucination. They never lasted this long.
Ash sprawled on the chaise at the end of the sofa, sleeping soundly with his hands folded over his stomach. Beside him, Zeke lay face down, one arm dangling off the sofa. Ezra sat at the counter with his back to me, hunched forward. Cyn stood at the stove, frying sausages.
When I cleared my throat, Cyn’s gaze snapped to mine.
The way his amber eyes lowered, taking in my rumpled appearance, made me want to sprint upstairs and fix the rat’s nest on my head.
Had he not slept? He appeared as impeccable as he had the night before. No pillow creases on his face. His artfully messy hair wasn’t a knotted disaster like mine.
“Sit down,” he said, returning his attention to the pan.
I crossed to the stools at the counter, unsure what to say now that I was sober.
Ezra occupied the middle stool, leaving only the seats on either side of him. I crossed my arms beneath my chest and worried my lip.
“Sit,” Ezra said, voice hard and commanding.
Who was he to tell me what to do?
I turned my head, ready to tell him exactly what I thought about his bossing me around like he had the others last night, but I swallowed the retort. His cold eyes dared me to argue.
I lowered myself into the seat on his right, and he turned back to the book without a word.
I looked at Cyn, who moved sausages around in the pan. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
It took way too long for my brain to catch up to the fact that breakfast items littered the counter. He’d raided my fridge?
“Zeke needs to eat,” he added when I didn’t answer.
“So you take over my kitchen?”
He lined a plate with paper towels, dropped the sausages on it, and ignored my question. He wiped the pan before pouring in whisked eggs.
“Oh man, that smells good,” Ash said. I looked over my shoulder as he sat up, twisting to crack his back. “Morning, Little Blackbird.”
“It’s Raelynn,” I snapped, then winced. I was in a foul mood thanks to Ezra bossing me around and Cyn’s attitude. No, that wasn’t fair. The aches and confusion weighed on me, too. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I need coffee.”
“No, it’s Rae,” Zeke said, ignoring my glare. He rolled off the sofa, climbed to his feet, and stretched his long arms over his head, making his shirt rise to reveal a trail of dark hair below a toned stomach.
When he caught me staring, he grinned, brushing the silvery white hair from his forehead. His black brows and body hair made it obvious the ashen hair wasn’t natural.
I turned around in my seat, huffing. It was too early for this.
Like before, Zeke’s warmth pressed against my back as he curled around me, reaching for a sausage.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a sausage.” He took a bite of the link.
“No. Why are you touching me?” I looked at his hand on my shoulder. “You keep touching me.”
He hummed and swallowed the bite in his mouth. “You’re nice to touch.” He bopped my nose with his finger.
Ash chuckled as he entered the kitchen, pulling a stack of plates from the cabinet to help Cyn.
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the alluring smell of warm vanilla and sweet honey surrounding Zeke. “Have you ever heard of personal space?”
“Well, yeah.” He lowered his arm. “You’re not… I-” When he averted his eyes, his playful charm faded. Something in my chest tightened.
“Wait.” I twisted in my seat. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh. Nothing.” He shook his head, the brightness in his eyes dimming as he glanced away.
He was lying to me. I hated lies.
All my life, people had lied to me.
Mom and Dad lied when I said I saw monsters and shadow friends, until I learned it wasn’t normal and stopped mentioning them. My extended family lied about Grandma to keep her away. My ex lied about cheating after I refused to sleep with him during our first week of dating.
I hated liars. I didn’t understand why, but it upset me more because I didn’t want to hate him.
“Don’t lie to me.” I stood, drawing Ezra’s gaze, but he still said nothing. “I get that you’re demons, and I don’t know how your social rules work, but no.” I rubbed my eyes and sighed, softening my tone when I saw Zeke’s discomfort. “I can’t deal with it. So just don’t.”
I turned away, ready to escape into the kitchen. If I didn’t get a cup of coffee, I might turn into a demon myself. No one wanted to see that.
“Whoa. Hey.” Zeke grabbed my upper arm, bringing me to a stop. He immediately released me when I glanced at his hand. “Um.” He scratched the back of his head and looked at Cyn across the counter, panic on his face. “Fuck. I—”
Cyn shoved the spatula at Ash. “Finish these.” He stormed around the counter, stopped in front of Zeke, and cupped his cheeks. “Stop.”
“But she—”
“She’s nothing,” he spat.
“No. She’s—”
“Noth-ing. She’s a stupid human. Don’t let her upset you.”
Cyn’s words stung, but Zeke’s distress was impossible to ignore. It unsettled me. If I’d caused him to have a panic attack… Do demons have panic attacks? They acted as human as I was.
My gaze ping-ponged between Ash, Ezra, and Cyn. “Did I do something wrong?” My tone came out harsher than I intended.
Ash sighed, plating the scrambled eggs. “No. Zeke’s just—”
“Yeah, you did.” Cyn glared over his shoulder.
Zeke took a deep breath and shook his head. “Stop it.” His hands covered Cyn’s and pulled them from his face. “She didn’t do anything wrong. I overstepped, and I also lied. She’s got every right not to like it.”
My shoulders dropped when his sad eyes met mine.
“I wasn’t thinking. I’m used to these guys, and I dunno… I can’t explain it.”
Ash chuckled, leaning on his hands braced at the counter’s edge. “We let him get away with far too much.”
Nothing about Zeke aligned with what my family’s church taught me demons were supposed to act like. He wasn’t a fearsome, cruel, and destructive force. He appealed to me in all the ways the church warned temptation would.
Still, his behavior contradicted their teachings, reminding me of why I never embraced organized religion. There wasn’t anything wrong with institutionalized religion, but it wasn’t for me.
“You don’t have to explain anything,” I said, hoping to reassure him.
Cyn glared at me.
I averted my gaze. “I didn’t mean to upset you with the personal space comment. It was just a question. I’m sorry if it sounded rude.”
Ash shifted in his seat, studying me.
“I don’t really understand why it upset you, but I hate that it did.” I drew a deep breath through my nose and let it out sharply. “And I could’ve chosen a better way to say I didn’t like lying. I let little things put me in a bad mood.” I looked up at Zeke. “I’m sorry.”
He pushed his way past Cyn and approached me. “I didn’t mean to lie. I mean, sure, it wasn’t true, but it wasn’t meant to be bad. You know what I mean?”
I blinked. “No?”
“Uh…” He glanced at the others.
“I think he meant it as malicious deception,” Ash said. “Got any juice?”
“There’s apple and orange juice on the top shelf of the fridge.” I looked at Zeke. “I get it. But just say you don’t wanna answer. It’s better than lying. While you’re here in my home, at least give me that respect. I’ll do the same for you.”
“I can do that. I won’t touch you anymore, either.”
Cyn rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t—I mean…” I scrubbed both hands over my face. “This is way too heavy for first thing in the morning. I can’t think straight without coffee.” I frowned, peering up at Zeke. “I’m not saying you can’t, just that you’re touchy for someone who doesn’t really know me.”
“So it doesn’t bother you?”
“No—I mean, yes. I don’t know! I need coffee to have this conversation.”
The bright smile I’d seen the night before returned to his face. “I’m growing on you.”
I shook my head, slinking into the kitchen. “I wouldn’t go that far. I hardly know you. Besides, why aren’t you acting like demons are supposed to?” I loaded a K-Cup into the Keurig, set a mug on the metal tray, and switched the machine on.
Ash turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest, a wry smile lifting the corner of his lips. “And how are demons supposed to act?”