Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
The morning light streams into the shed. I stretch in my bed and let out a yawn. But I stop mid-stretch when I realize something is wrong.
The light should not be streaming into my side of the shed. There’s a curtain for that.
I dare pry my eyes open, and at first, the light is blinding.
But moments after, I note the lack of curtains. But that’s nothing compared to the fact that there’s currently a bed attached to my own.
Mine’s eyes are wide open. He’s on his side, his arm tucked under his head as he watches me.
“Morning,” he whispers.
I blink. Once. Twice. On the third blink, I let out a loud screech and scoot back, seeking distance from him. Unfortunately, these beds are far from luxurious or big. And in less than a second, my body makes contact with the hard ground. A loud groan escapes my lips as pain ricochets through my bones.
“Minnie?” Mine asks in a worried voice. “Are you all right?”
He shuffles closer and peers down at me over the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing there?” I ask in outrage, momentarily forgetting the pain.
“What do you mean?” He frowns.
“We agreed on something. You’d stick to your side of the room, and I would have mine. Why is your bed suddenly next to mine?”
“Ah, that.” He sighs. “I did not mean to break our agreement. But you see…”
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“There was something odd when I got back last night.”
I wait for him to continue. After an unsuccessful conversation on the subject of the demon, he’d left to do work . By the time I went to bed, he hadn’t returned. And that was around midnight. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him where he was—and with whom—and what he did. But it’s more important to ascertain the reason behind this blatant violation of rules.
“I was returning from the cantina and I felt that someone was following me. Even when I entered the room, I kept having this feeling that I was being watched.” He lets out a shudder. “I tried to fall asleep but couldn’t.”
“I still don’t see why you got rid of the curtain and put your bed next to mine?”
“Because you’re the strong one,” he states suddenly. “Where else would I have felt safe if not close to you?”
I stare at him for a moment.
“You…”
“I was afraid it was a demon or something watching me from the shadows. But they wouldn’t have dared to do anything with you close to me. Right, Minnie?”
“Right.”
“Because you’re a strong demon slayer.”
“Right.”
“And I’m just a puny human.”
“Right, right,” I mutter.
“So you see, it wasn’t a breach of rules, per se. Isn’t your role as the badass goddess in this relationship to protect your weak human?” He looks at me sweetly.
I open my mouth to agree but then stop.
“Relationship?”
“Partnership,” he corrects. “Really, Minnie. Here I am going against my manly pride to tell you how much stronger than me you are and you’re misconstruing my words.”
“But you said relationship?—”
“You misheard. Partnership,” he emphasizes.
“But—”
“So the situation is now settled, no?” He interrupts me.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.
“I suppose so,” I mutter, still a little unsure.
“Excellent. Now we can discuss what I have learned.”
My ears prick at that.
“What did you learn?”
He smiles at me.
“I was out late last night because I was conducting some research of my own. You said you can channel spiritual energy from an object.”
I nod.
“Would a magical object work?”
“Magical?” I frown.
“Used by a witch,” he clarifies.
“But where would we find a witch?” I ask as I get to my feet and dust my nightgown. Mine is dressed in a white shirt and a pair of loose pants, nothing scandalous, nothing interesting. So why are my eyes straying to his side? Why can’t I help the way my gaze rakes over his body, noting each hard muscle and the way it pushes against the material of the shirt.
I swallow hard—audibly so.
Good thing he is too focused on bringing me a tray of food to notice. Though I could always blame my reaction on the food.
“I don’t know about finding a witch. But we might be able to find objects used by a witch. They should work, no?”
“If they’re imbued with magic,” I reply absentmindedly.
He pulls a chair for me to sit at the table—we’ve already converted his desk to a table—and lays in front of me an assortment of breakfast items.
My mouth salivates at the sight and smell of them.
There is my daily donut, of course, but a variety of scones with butter and jam on the side accompany it. That is just the sweet part of the meal. Next is the savory, which is comprised of bread, ham, and three types of cheeses.
I have to wonder where he could have procured this from. Army food might be a tad better than civilian food, but it’s still nothing fancy.
Nothing like this .
It’s an entire feast—and it’s just breakfast.
I should probably question him about it, but later. Now it’s eating time.
Before he takes a seat next to me, he brings over an electric kettle and pours hot water into two cups, each containing a tea bag.
“What qualifies as imbued with magic?” he asks as he finally joins me at the table.
He grabs a scone, cuts it in two, and adds jam on one side and butter on the other. I emulate his movements.
“If it’s been used in a ritual,” I say as I take a bite of the scone.
This is wonderful. Oh, my!
I quickly eye the number of scones on the table. Six more left. Then my gaze flies to Mine. He’s a big male, so it stands to reason he would need plenty of food. Does that mean he will eat most of the scones?
As the thought enters my mind, I quickly shove the rest of the scone in my mouth and grab another, repeating the process—though this time I only add the jam since the butter takes away from the sweetness.
“I asked around,” he says as he slowly and methodically butters his second scone, “and there is a place that might house such items.”
“House? As in they’re just…there?”
“It’s a museum. Some forty-fifty minutes away from here by car. It houses a lot of artifacts from the witch trials in the seventeenth century.”
“But…” I chew slowly as I think about what he said. “How do we know they were actual witches? I’ve heard about the so-called witch trials you humans had. Most of the women accused of witchcraft were innocent.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But it’s worth a try.”
“All right. We can try it. But I have questions.”
He smiles. “Of course you have. Go on.”
“How will we get there? We have no car.”
“I’ll get us a car.”
Of course he’d have access to a car. I think that proves my suspicion that he’s incredibly wealthy for this world.
“What about your duties? You’re an airman. Won’t you get in trouble if you leave the base?”
“Already talked to my CO. I’ve been granted leave for a week due to my last injuries.”
“But they weren’t that bad,” I mumble.
“Trust me, Minnie. They were ,” he replies in a tight voice.
“Fine. So you can leave the base and we have a car. But how can we access that museum? Aren’t all centers closed because of the war?”
Another shrug.
“Maybe. But we will get in somehow.”
He seems so sure of himself, so…
I put down my scone and narrow my eyes at him.
“Just how rich are you?”
His brows go up in surprise. Then he chuckles.
“How rich?”
“Yes. Tommy said you come from a wealthy background. But it must be very wealthy for you to afford all of this.” I wave to the food in front of us. That in itself is a luxury. Never mind the fact that he can get a car, leave the military base as he pleases and get into a closed museum.
“You could say so,” he murmurs in a low voice. His cheeks are slightly flushed.
“You could say so? What does that mean?”
“My family is very wealthy. We moved to America when I was younger and we invested in the right ventures. With time, our wealth and influence accumulated.”
“Why are you here then?” I ask suddenly. “I mean. If you’re so wealthy, why would you risk your life in war? I’m sure with your influence you wouldn’t have had to join, no?”
“You are correct. I did not have to join the Air Force.”
“Why did you then?”
“Because you’re here,” he answers smoothly.
“Hey!” I slap his arm playfully. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. You don’t believe me?” He feigns an offended tone.
“I can’t believe you’re being so shameless this early in the morning,” I grumble and roll my eyes.
“Why else would a man risk death if not for the love of a beautiful woman?” He wiggles his brows at me.
“You’re impossible.” I shake my head. It’s clear I’m not going to get an answer out of him, though the curiosity remains. If he is so wealthy, why court death in the Air Force? It’s…baffling.
“Might be.” He chuckles. “But my brand of impossible is getting you a way to siphon spiritual energy. You should thank me.” He leans back, pushing his chin up and smirking at me.
I glare at him.
“Right. I’ll thank you after I’ve successfully siphoned the energy, since we don’t know if it will actually work.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He winks.
I let out a frustrated groan and kick him in the shin under the table.
“Ouch.”
“Serves you right,” I say as I grab the rest of the scones—and the donut—and bring them to my side of the table. He can have the savory stuff. I’ll keep the sweet.
He has a perpetual smile on his face as he looks at me. Even when he should be annoyed, he’s not. Is this part of his courting ritual? I suppose the food is, but what about the rest? The fact that he’s both teasing me and letting me get away with being mean to him.
And to my shame, I am mean to him. I’m not yet sure why exactly, but whenever I see him being too nice to me, I want to kick him.
Then I want to hug him .
I shake my head to dispel those dangerous thoughts.
Perhaps this is his plan. Drive me to be mean to him so I can be apologetic afterward and allow him to get away with things I wouldn’t normally do. Like the bed situation.
Ugh! I don’t like this. I don’t like feeling out of my element, and I certainly don’t like the fact that I’m not very versed in this courtship thing.
In battle, at least you know what to expect. In courtship? I fear it will hit me harder than in any battle I’ve taken part in.
“Finish your meal and change. I’ll get the car ready.”
“This is not a military car,” I add with a frown.
“It’s my personal car.” Mine smiles as he opens the door for me.
I get into the front passenger seat and make myself comfortable. Leather seats and a luxurious interior. I am once more reminded of how wealthy he is.
I glance back. “What’s that?”
“Oh, that? I packed some food to have on the road. You’ll get hungry.”
“That is thoughtful of you,” I murmur.
It doesn’t escape me that he said I will get hungry, not he or we. He did this with me in mind. Warmth spreads through me. I’ve never had anyone be so nice to me before.
He might be trying to impress me now that he’s made his intentions clear about courting me, but even before that, he’s been nothing but kind. I might have been a little harsh on him in the past, but that was because my sudden misfortune colored my perception. And though I searched for anyone else but me to blame, the truth is that no one forced me to break the rules.
I did it because I wanted to.
And if I were to go back to the past—though messing with time is forbidden too—I would make the same choices.
I’m startled from my thoughts when Mine starts the car. We barely leave the base when something catches my eye in the mirror on the car.
I swivel, my eyes wide with shock.
“Tommy! What are you doing here?”
He gulps down guiltily.
“I don’t want to stay behind with that demon!” he bursts out.
“He’s a greed demon. He won’t eat your soul.”
“No, but he’s awful to me! He makes fun of me every day when he sees me. I hate him,” he cries out.
Based on my own experience with that greed demon, I’d have to agree. He is very obnoxious and if he realizes you can see him, he derives pleasure from making you squirm. Perhaps he’s found a way to channel greed in that, too?
While Tommy prattles away about his experiences with the greed demon, Mine smiles indulgently behind the wheel. Somehow, I would have expected him to be annoyed that a ghost has come into his car uninvited. But it doesn’t seem to be the case.
“Have you sent the letter to my Delilah, Major?” Tommy asks.
“Of course. I am sure she will be happy to read your last words.”
Tommy’s face falls.
“If only I didn’t die…”
“It’s the order of things, Tommy. We die and we get born. All over again,” Mine says in a stern yet oddly wise tone.
“And if you move on, you still have a chance to be with her,” I chime in. It might not be my duty to escort souls to the afterlife, but given the abundance of demons on Anthropa, I don’t want to take any chances that one might prey on Tommy before he’s able to leave.
“I know.” He nods solemnly. “But I need to find one of those messengers you spoke of.”
“Nothing yet?”
Tommy shakes his head.
“All the recent deaths occurred off base,” Mine adds. “The planes were shot down over Germany.”
“Damn it,” I mutter a curse under my breath.
“Is there no other way, Miss Minnie?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He sighs. “Do you think I can join you? Or will I be whisked back to the base?”
I spare a glance at Mine. He doesn’t say no, so I don’t either.
“We’ll see how far you can go.”
He smiles brightly at me. “You’re so kind, Miss Minnie. Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it,” I mumble.
“He’s right, Minnie. You’re so kind,” Mine drawls in an odd voice. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes, his hands wound tightly around the steering wheel. What is wrong with him now?
I decide to ignore him and find out more about Tommy.
“Why did you join the military? You’re so young.” I bite my tongue when I realize I spoke in present tense instead of past. He doesn’t realize it, though.
“All the eligible men in my town had to.”
It’s Mine who speaks next. “Men were only allowed to refuse if they had a robust reason. Depending on the state, some faced prison time while others were required to pay fines.”
“I had no money for fines,” Tommy adds. “And I was deemed too healthy to be exempt.”
“What about you, then?” I ask Mine. “Wouldn’t these”—I point to his scars—“help you escape mandatory conscription.”
He shrugs. “Perhaps. But I never tried to evade it.”
“Why? And don’t give me that flimsy excuse that it’s because of me.” I roll my eyes.
He smirks. “This war? Of course it was for you.” He winks at me.
“Come on.” I punch him lightly in the shoulder.
Tommy also joins me in asking the question. “Tell us, Major.”
Mine doesn’t appear too comfortable with this line of questioning, and my smile slowly dies on my face. Is it a sore subject for him? From what I’ve gathered from my time on Anthropa, the military is a dignified profession. It is as respectable as it is in Aperion, though much more dangerous. Of course, not in terms of actual danger, but because humans are such fragile beings that they can instantly die.
It takes a lot more to kill an Aperite. And since our military’s sole purpose has been to hunt demons across the universe after the war with Tartareia ended, fewer and fewer Aperites have died in battle.
Mine clears his throat.
“My best friend was in the military. He was a few years older than me and I always looked up to him. So I started training to join him.”
“Your best friend?”
He’s never mentioned a friend before. If anything, Tommy has been saying just how much of a recluse he is. I’ve never seen him on overly friendly terms with anyone at the base.
“Where is he?” I ask.
Mine grits his teeth and I instantly regret asking the question.
“He died of the same sickness I had,” he answers after a moment.
I blink. When he mentioned that sickness, I assumed it was some type of childhood illness—humans seem to be particularly susceptible to those. I did not realize it would have been so late in life.
“Oh, no!” Tommy exclaims. “Was it influenza? My mam’s sisters died of it, too.”
“Something like that,” Mine adds in a low voice.
I look at him intently as if waiting for him to add more. But he doesn’t. He’s staring up ahead, almost as if he’s lost in his mind, or I should say, his grief.
But what I’m most surprised at is my reaction to it. I want to apologize for bringing up bad memories. If my best friend died—though I suppose I don’t have one unless you count… Mine—I would be sad too. Devastated, really.
My brows bunch together as a cold shiver racks my body.
The thought of Mine dying doesn’t sit well with me. In fact, it threatens to make me physically ill. I shake my head. This isn’t the time to think about death—despite the fact that we have a ghost in the back of the car. Though as I glance back, I note that Tommy has momentarily disappeared. Perhaps he’s been dragged back to the base? Somehow, I’m thankful for the reprieve, for being able to be alone with Mine when I can sense the turmoil underneath his calm facade.
His features contort with pain, and a restless desire grows within me to comfort him and alleviate his pain. I reach out for his hand—a move as antithetical to me as acknowledging that he might be my best friend. He startles, and his sad eyes slowly find mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
The corners of his mouth tremble as he gives me a small smile. He grabs my hand and squeezes it before bringing it to his lips for a light kiss. Yet it’s a kiss that I feel in my bones. The warmth from his mouth spreads up my body, enveloping me and causing my skin to erupt in goose bumps.
“You’re sweet,” he murmurs. “But such pain can never go away.”
“Was the sickness…painful?”
He nods. “In his last days, the pain was crippling.”
“And you felt it too? That pain?”
Another nod, a bitter one.
“And you said there was no cure for this sickness?”
“None that his parents would have been able to enact in time. He was already dead when I exhibited the first symptoms. And with the knowledge of what was to come, my father decided to take matters into his own hands and do something extreme.”
“I’m happy,” I tell him.
His eyes widen in surprise—I surprise myself, too.
“I’m happy he found a way to save you.” I pause and wet my lips. “Otherwise, I would have never met you.”
He stares at me for what feels like moments on end. He’s not paying attention to the road, though the car never veers off course. He’s only looking at me. A hard, pressing stare that befuddles me just as much as it fills me with an odd certainty.
Holding my hand tightly, he brings it once more to his lips. His eyes are on mine as he whispers against my knuckles, “I survived so I could meet you.”