Chapter 10 Rest, Relaxation, Recovery
REST, RELAXATION, RECOVERY
Artur
Getting Cesar home proved to be a task. We ended up walking around the neighborhood, grabbing some tacos to go, having at least one shot of tequila from a stranger sharing a bottle, and a quick stroll on the beach while listening to him talk poetically about the stars.
After some easy negotiating, I finally managed to get him home.
We did not go back to Fridas that night, which was exactly where he wanted to go. Again, careful navigation and clever distractions meant we didn’t end up in his favorite bar. I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with more undead, regardless of how friendly they had all been the first time.
I let out a sigh of relief when I turned and bolted the inner doors to Cesar’s house closed, shutting out the night, the dead, and keeping a sick man safely inside.
“Alex, are you staying to look after me? That would be nice,” Cesar called out from his bedroom down the hall where I had taken him and coerced him into getting ready for bed. It was not a room I had been in yet, but I knew the location.
I had anticipated a tawdry night of fun, one I had fantasized about multiple times that day, but that wasn’t going to happen now.
“If you’d like, I will stay,” I called out.
“Good, good!” I heard him shuffling about and mumbling to himself.
Left unsupervised, I took a look around the living room; it didn’t take long to become overwhelmed by the multitude of skulls.
The creepy things were everywhere. Tiny ones, large ones.
A hummingbird here, a frog there, a whole snake skeleton, and an entire iguana were lovingly placed in nooks and crannies.
As I passed into the kitchen, the theme continued.
Out onto the terraza, several bones of indiscriminate origin lay scattered along the floor. As much as I could forgive the rather overwhelmingly morbid theme in the house of a bone witch, it seemed excessive.
A crash sounded from the bedroom followed by angry yelling.
I ran to the room only to find Cesar naked, standing in the midst of a broken mirror, with cuts to both his hands and feet.
“Oh, no! Cesar, don’t move.”
“What happened?” He glanced at his hands, covered and dripping red.
“Just don’t move. I don’t want you to cut anything else. I’ll get a broom.”
I scrambled around the villa trying desperately to find the cleaning supplies necessary. Once I had my arms full, I returned to the scene of the crime.
Cesar stood motionless, staring at his wounded hands.
Tears streamed down his face.
“Artur? What happened? How did I get here, and why is my mirror broken?”
“Oh, Cesar.” I made quick work of the shards of glass, making sure there were no slivers that would cause further injury. Once that was done, I guided him to the bathroom and had him sit on the edge of the soaker tub. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I honestly have no recollection of the last several hours. I remember standing at your stall waiting for the wight.”
“We banished him, successfully, but not without a cost. Once again my magic got away from me and threw us against the wall. You hit your head again, but I hadn’t thought the reaction between the banishment and my magic was that powerful.
Neither of us were bleeding from the impact, you were still conscious, but you had no idea who I was, or what had just happened. ”
“I think I know.”
“Please, enlighten me.” I found a tiny spear of mirror and gently tweezed it out of Cesar’s palm. He flinched. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s I who should be sorry.”
Guilt coiled in the pit of my stomach, thinking Cesar felt it necessary to apologize for his condition when it had been my magic that had once again caused ruin.
“Absolutely not!” I held my finger up to him. “You never have to apologize for what you’re going through.” I soaked a facecloth and began wiping the blood off Cesar’s skin.
He sighed. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I continued to patch him up.
“You’re quite good at this. Gentle. Caring.”
“You’re welcome. Would you like a robe now? I think I’ve managed to clear away most of the blood. Nothing should stain.”
“That would be nice.”
“Give me a minute.”
Running into his bedroom, I located a bathrobe and as I glanced around the room, more skulls peered out from the shelving units lining the walls.
I returned to the bathroom and held out the garment. Cesar stood and lifted his arms so I could slip it on.
“I’m sure you’re tired and would like to go home,” he said, but his voice was tinged with disappointment.
“No. Actually, I wouldn’t like that at all. I don’t want to leave you unattended. Who knows if you’ll slip away again.” I tapped my temple to get my meaning across.
“It’s not going to happen, I promise. It’s the interaction of my physical body with magic. Yours, in particular, because it’s so strong, raw, and unbridled.” Cesar smiled gently.
I hung my head. Another blunder on my part. Imagine the looks I’d get when people found out I had knocked down a revered and respected member of the community.
“Artur, do not blame yourself. I can see it in your eyes. Stop it. It’s the disease.
And it could have been my abilities just as easily as it turned out to be yours.
Remember what the healer said? I shouldn’t be using magic at all.
This is the fate of all bone witches: we lose our minds.
You can’t play with death and rip a soul through the veil with your bare hands and not be affected.
We are supposed to stay dead. Our journeys don’t stop at death, and pulling someone, or something back has a price.
“Well, here it is. You are looking at the cost of a forced afterlife.” Cesar placed his bandaged hand on my forearm.
“It’s not fair. It’s not right.”
“Of course it’s not, but it is reality. I am honoured that you chose to stay tonight and assist me, to make sure I’m all right. Trust me, I am. You can go home.”
“I don’t really want to,” I said. “I would feel terrible and never forgive myself if something happened—”
“Nothing will happen.”
“But if it did, Cesar, if it did… I would never recover from that. Please, if you’ll have me, I would like to stay. I’ll sleep on the couch.” I got up to leave him in peace when he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“Then stay. I am flattered. There is a spare room down at the other end of the hall should you wish to sleep alone. If you want to be closer, you can share my bed. No shenanigans, though, I’m far too tired at this point, regardless of what I promised you.
That will happen, but maybe after these wounds are all healed.
Hard to paw you when I’ve been ripped to shreds. ”
Cesar grinned.
“Fine, let’s retire then,” I said. “It has been a long night, and I am exhausted.”
We transitioned to the bedroom from his ensuite. Cesar dropped his robe displaying his taught muscular body that would normally have me salivating, but now I just wanted him safe, healed, and rested. He pulled back the light comforter and crawled into the bed and between the sheets.
“Come.” He patted the bed beside him. “And don’t you dare keep all those clothes on.”
I stripped and followed suit.
As I got comfortable in his bed that seemed to be made from clouds, he snuggled up to my side, wrapped himself around my torso, and placed his head on my chest.
“No shenanigans, I promise, but it has been years since I have had the pleasure of a deep sleep knowing I am safe and protected with a partner by my side. I hope you don’t mind.”
Knowing my nether regions were rapidly stiffening, I had to will it all to go flaccid.
“No, I don’t mind at all,” I lied.
I wrapped one arm around Cesar’s shoulder and settled in for the night. As much as I didn’t think I was going to get any sleep, it didn’t take long before I silently slipped into nothingness, skulls from every angle leering at me.
Cesar
Shadows chased me. Disembodied hands reached out, flesh grey and putrid, rotting and malodorous, attempting to touch me. The dead were everywhere I looked. Glaring eyes. Accusing stares. The shining white light beaming from within a dead shell was everywhere I looked.
I wasn’t safe.
Decay made their flesh sag. Some were nothing but bone. Most were something in between—rotting.
They surrounded me, crowded me, attempted to pull me down and under, into hell, into a world of torture and punishment. Yanked into their deaths as I had ripped them away from their rest and back into the world of the living.
Until they parted. Like the sea split in half, they separated.
At the end of the channel, with the undead flanking each side, a black-veiled woman appeared. Her black lace dress rippled and swayed from an unfelt breeze. She floated toward me.
Silently.
Deadly.
As she came closer, inches away from my face, her veil was lifted by the surrounding crowd, her legion, her army, her worshippers. An eye socket held a mass of writhing spiders, as the jaw opened and exhaled the dying breath of a long-dead, rotted corpse.
She leaned into me and whispered, “You thief.”