Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
The whimper dies on my lips as I bolt up in bed, the covers fall around my waist, and my body shakes. I feel sweaty, as if I’ve been running on the treadmill all night. The gargoyle stands in the doorway. He’s been calling my name. The ward is barring his entry.
He lets out a low growl, and his wings twitch. He’s wearing pyjamas; the stripy bottoms cling to his thighs, and the T-shirt clings to his abs. For some reason, wearing nightwear makes him look bigger, bigger than he does during the day.
Soren presses his hand to the barrier. His skin sizzles and he pulls it back with a wince. “Let me in,” he grumps, his voice rough from sleep.
The ward dissipates, and he silently pads across the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”
I rub my face. “Bad dreams. I’m so sorry I woke you. I dreamt that everyone from my hometown was dead, and it was all my fault. This time I watched them die.”
Instead of buildings, the Dragon’s Eye ripped people apart while I stood there frozen and let it happen.
“They’re not dead.”
“No. They aren’t dead. I know everyone’s safe. It’s just hard to tell my brain that.” My voice cracks at the end, and I rub my face again and swallow a few times. I don’t want to cry. “I’m sick of crying. Why can’t I just be normal?”
“Emotions aren’t bad,” he tells me. “It’s normal to be frightened. I’m surprised you’re not having more flashbacks with everything that you’ve been through. Come on.” He gets up and offers me his hand.
“What?” I ask, my nose wrinkling as I move to the side of the bed to get out.
“We’re going to have a cup of tea, and I’ll make you some cookies.”
“Cookies?”
“Yeah, cookies. I have a recipe for sticky toffee pudding cookies. They’re gooey in the middle, oozy, and amazing. Do you want me to make them for you?”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” I can eat cookies.
“Come on then, nothing girl. Let’s go downstairs, make cookies, have tea, and chat.”
“What do you want to talk about? My dreams and fears?”
“If you want.”
“You’ll listen?”
“We’re friends. Of course I’ll listen. I might be a foolish man. I deal with such evil that I’m glad you can’t comprehend. I’m forever fighting, and sometimes I forget how to deal with genuine people. I’m sorry our start began so bumpy, but I hope that we can be friends.”
I grab his hand and I follow him down the hall.
“I’d like to be friends.”
This new safe house kitchen doesn’t have an island, but it does have a wooden table. I sit down and watch him move around, opening drawers and closing them with a grunt when things that should be there aren’t. But it’s well stocked, and it doesn’t take him long to get everything he needs.
Then he starts making cookies, and I watch while drinking my tea. He really is beautiful.
“Tell me about your dream,” Soren asks as he adds the measured dry ingredients into a mixing bowl.
To explain my dream, I have to explain what first happened with the Dragon’s Eye. Then I tell him about my nightmare. As I talk, he listens intently while he makes the cookies.
I was back in the town square, and I’d just woken everybody up from the spell.
I turned to run to the library. I could hear the helicopter coming.
Damien appeared, his mouth opened, and magic roared out like a black plague.
The buildings were eaten and destroyed in real life, but the people were eaten in the dream.
They screamed and cried, and then they were all gone.
“It was horrendous.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for listening.”
There’s a crash outside. Soren walks to the kitchen window, moves the blind, and peers outside. He grunts.
“What’s wrong?” The house is warded. It’s not one of mine. It’s an excellent witch ward that’ll keep the baddies out.
“Oh, some unwelcome visitors.” The gargoyle winces and then chuckles. “We’ll leave for another safe house in the morning. We’ll try another town.”
Oh no, they found us. I go to stand and he waves me to sit down. “I’m making cookies,” he says. “Drink your tea.” He goes back to the oven, nods happily, and pulls out the baking tray. The kitchen smells divine as he sets it aside to cool.
The back door opens and Forrest prowls inside with a soft, relaxed smile. At first glance, Forrest has freckles across her cheeks. Freckles? She doesn’t have freckles.
No, is that blood splatter? I realise that, yes, there are spots of blood all over her face. She’s wearing black, so you can’t tell if it’s on her clothing.
“Ooh, cookies!” she says. Her smile gets bigger. “Ooh, can I have one or twenty please?”
“You can have two,” Soren says as he puts another tray in the oven.
“I’ve been on guard duty all evening and fighting for a solid five minutes.
I deserve more than two cookies.” She stretches and rotates her wrists.
“It was brilliant. I don’t get to do this much.
I love chasing shifters around and frightening the fae to death.
But sometimes I need a good no-holds-barred, hand-to-hand fight.
Granted, they weren’t the best, and I had to fight six at once to get a proper workout, but it was great. ”
Forrest nods and wipes her face. She frowns at her palm, shrugs, and wipes her hand on a dry spot on her leg. “Yeah, it was great.” Forrest grabs my cup and takes a swig. “Oh, it needs more sugar,” she says, pointing at the cup as she sits and smiles at Soren. “Are those cookies ready yet?”