Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
When I open my eyes, I’m looking at the ceiling of Wanderlust, blinking at the stars that twinkle there.
I make a mental note that I need to dust up there because I can see the filth.
For a moment, I don’t remember why the hell I’m lying here.
Did I decide to take a nap at the store? That doesn’t make sense.
A movement on my chest alerts me to the weight there, startling me. Lifting my head, I see two silver eyes staring back at me.
“I told you she’d be fine.” Flint says.
I turn my head to look at him. He’s sitting on a reading chair, one foot propped on a knee, watching me.
It’s then, I realize, that I’m stretched out on the sofa and a throw has been tucked around me.
Thankfully, not the same throw he used to put out the fire.
Thank Gods for Bits and her unshakable belief in infinite comfort items.
Fuck. There was a fire. I still have to clean up that mess and then try to explain to Betsy how there even came to be a fire. I also have to chide her for not having the fire extinguisher serviced in forever, while also thanking her for neglecting to have a working sprinkler system.
‘You did not know,’ a young voice says.
I look around, confused. Did he let a child in here while I was passed out? Maybe he is a raging psycho. Who would let a kid into the shop, today of all days? Nothing has gone right, and the smell of smoke and burning bestsellers is still lingering in the air. It’s probably a health hazard.
Wait. If I’m on the sofa… that means that he picked me up and carried me here. Or did he levitate me? I mean, when I wrote about him, he didn’t have any levitating powers that I knew of, but given how this day has been going, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Assuming he didn’t levitate me onto the couch, he must have touched me and I was unconscious for it.
Damn it!
‘You hoped, which is not at all the same thing. Luckily, she was already sitting on the floor, so she didn’t have far to fall. Her head should be fine.’
I’m still looking around as best I can without displacing the purring dragon who is staring holes into me.
“Did you let someone in? Is there a customer? I cannot be laying here with a dragon if there’s some Karen wandering the stacks!” Nothing scares me like an angry bitch with a bob.
Flint looks confused. “No, it’s just the three of us.”
The three of…. “What?”
He gestures at Calida with an inked hand. “I told you. She can talk to her chosen and those that she likes. I guess in the moment when you were waking, you were okay with making the connection. So, now she can speak to you.”
He’s saying this like it’s a totally normal thing to hear a dragon speak. Or to believe that dragons can speak. Or to believe in fucking dragons.
‘Maybe she is broken. She is not speaking back.’
At this point, I realize I’m not hearing the girl’s voice in my ears. It’s coming from inside my head. It’s sweet, high and almost musical.
Looking back down at Calida, I say, “Holy shit.”
She bares her teeth at me in what I think is an attempt at a smile. Given that hers are very pointy and appear to be very sharp, it doesn’t do a whole lot to make me feel better.
‘He’s sort of an idiot, but he’s right.’
Flint looks unamused. I bite my lip and try not to laugh. Of course my chosen dragon would be a smart ass.
Girl power.
Wow. Guess I accepted that quicker than I would have thought possible.
I shift my weight, causing Calida to spread her wings for balance. To my amazement, she lifts herself up into the air, circling the room twice, before coming back to land on the table.
‘Apparently you two have a lot to talk about. I’m gonna find a snack.’With that, she lifts herself into the air again and soars into the back of the shop, in the direction of the kitchen.
“Should I be worried? She’s not going to like… eat all the pastries or anything, right? Annemarie worked all night on those.” Not that it really matters. There are no customers anyway and I still have the closed sign on the wide open door.
Flint glances in the direction Calida took off in. “I don’t think she has any interest in cookies right now. She probably went searching for some sort of meat.”
Meat? Where is she going to find meat in a bookstore? You know what, that’s a later problem. Later Casie can deal with it.
“So… wait. You’re telling me that you, Goira, fucking Aisling… it’s all real? The Fae exist?”
He looks perplexed. Why am I forever confusing this man?
“Yes,” he says, slowly. Oh my Gods, he thinks I’m an idiot.
“We do, in fact, exist.” He reaches out and cups my cheek.
I am totally not swooning at the feeling of his big, calloused palm against my cheek.
Absolutely not. “I’m proof. Hot blooded, flesh and bone proof.
” He pauses. “Although, I’m not sure who Aisling is. ”
Hot blooded, muscled, fucking tattooed, hot as sin proof. Yep. Got it.
“But I made it all up,” I continue to protest. “I was trying – and largely failing – to write this stupid story. About you, and Aisling, and The Three, and Goira. I. Made. It. All. Up.”
He laughs at me. This motherfucker.
“You may think you made it all up, but I’m sitting here, aren’t I? You can feel my skin against yours. You have seen Calida and felt her on your body, heard her in your mind. Clearly, we are real.”
He has a point. He’s still touching me, and his skin is warm against mine. His eyes bore into me. I did feel Calida on my chest, on my lap, under my fingertips. I refuse to linger on what else I’ve felt.
Holy. Fuck. Balls.
He appears to be… I don’t know… waiting for something?
Casting around in my mind for something to say, I somehow end up uttering “and you think I’m pretty?”
Fucking Christ, Casie. Get it together. That is hardly the fucking point and should not be what you’re focusing on!
He blushes again. Even his ears turn red. It’s adorable.
“I think you’re the most exquisite creature I’ve ever encountered. I love the rainbow hair. It’s so vibrant.”
Now I’m getting flustered.
Okay, time to change the subject.
“You called me ‘female’ earlier. What did you mean?”
Again, he looks perplexed. This poor man. If he’s from a patriarchal society (more so than mine), he’s doomed before he really gets started, isn’t he?
“Female. Not male,” he states. Upon seeing whatever micro expression crosses my face, he hastily adds, “...better than male.”
“So… a woman?” I offer.
He shakes his head. “No. Woman is a word used to describe females of the human species. Fae… women are not women. They are … simply Females. Didn’t we just have this conversation?”
We did, but I’d hoped that banging my head would jostle the information into something resembling logic or, at the very least, shock him into changing his tune. “But I’m a human, so….”
He just stares.
And stares.
And stares some more.
“So… they’re better than the males?” I’m not going to press, even though he never actually responded. I have enough processing to do. One more bombshell might be the one that tips me into a grippy sock vacation and I’m too poor to afford that particular medical resort.
Well, at least he’s stopped staring. His gaze is on his boots now, and his ears are turning red again.
“I’m not sure how to explain. The feminine strength, the power you find in our worlds…
it’s quieter, deeper than the masculine power.
Masculine power is more… overt, obvious.
It’s… it’s quieter, softer, unyielding. For that same reason, Females are far more deadly when they’re roused beyond just surface temper.
So, I suppose, it depends on your definition of ‘better.’”
I ponder this. “Are Females powerful? Feared?”
He nods.
“Oh, then definitely better. I should visit immediately.” I’m only kidding but he pales considerably. “Or not. So,” I pause, “What brings you here?”
He finally looks a little uncomfortable. “Well, now that there’s peace…”
“What?! There’s peace?”
“Is that not what I just said? Yes, there’s peace. There’s very little for me to do and Calida wanted to go on an adventure to find her person, I wanted to explore other worlds so, well, here we are.”
How can he just say that? He’s talking like he just, I don’t know…
hopped in the car and drove a couple hours to get to the nearest city rather than leaping through realms from a place where magick and dragons exist, to a regular suburban city bookstore owned by a slightly questionable old lady, and run by a wannabe writer with ADHD and trauma issues.
Okay. Maybe I’m not processing this as well as I initially thought.
“How, exactly, did that work?”
“How did what work?” He’s confused. That makes two of us. This relationship is off to a rough start.
I will not raise my voice. I will not raise my voice. Iwillnotraisemyvoice.
“Crossing the freaking galaxy?!”
Shit. Total party foul.
He seems to shrink into the chair.
I take in a deep breath. In-2-3-4. Hold, 2-3-4. Out 2-3-4.
I feel like I just kicked a puppy with the look he’s giving me.
“I’m sorry. This is just… it’s a lot, okay?
I’m just a lowly book clerk. A college drop out.
A failed writer. I live in an apartment owned by my boss, within walking distance of my loved, but very dead-end job – for which I am grossly overpaid.
Now, I have a Fae… warrior… sitting in front of me, a dragon searching my store for snackies, a box of cinders, that used to be books I was donating this week and, frankly, a fucking headache. ”
In-2-3-4. Hold-2-3-4. Out-2-3-4.
“I have no idea how any of this works. Or where you came from. Or where you’re going. I don’t understand how you just ended up on my doorstep with a tiny dragon. I don’t understand how I can possibly be Calida’s person. I just… I don’t understand.” That was a lame ass finish. Go Casie.
“Oh. Of course.” He straightens. “It’s complicated and as simple as breathing. It’s just a matter of accessing the magick inside. I thought of what we needed to find and let it guide me. Although this… world… wasn’t what I expected to find.”
“What were you looking for, Flint?”
His eyes pin mine. They’re so beautiful. Fuck, I hate eye contact, but I can’t look away.
“I was looking for you.”
My heart surges and bounces down to my knees.
Oh, shit.
And that is the exact moment that Betsy chooses to bounce back into the shop.
Ironically, and because my life is a fucking shit show, that is also the moment in which Calida comes soaring back into the room and drops an enormous rat on the coffee table.