Chapter Nineteen
Sage
“Iknow you’re awake.”
The deep voice isn’t wrong. I woke up about ten minutes ago but instinct told me I wasn’t alone so I kept my eyes closed, internally debating who could be in the room with me. It doesn’t help that my head is pounding and opening my eyes is too much effort.
I know I’m not at the cottage with Baba Yaga because this bed is like resting on the softest of clouds. The room has a comforting scent that I can’t quite place and it gives me this feeling of safety I probably shouldn’t trust.
“At least you’re not dead.” I hear a heavy sigh, followed by a light rustle and a thud.
“That’s rude.” I can’t help myself.
Opening my eyes, I roll onto my side and find myself in a room that looks eerily similar to the one at Hack’s home in Georgia, right down to the color scheme. I’m positive the bed is exactly the same with the way the wood of the posts twists around itself like vines.
A chuckle draws my attention to the armchair…still empty.
“Stop being a creeper and show yourself.” I sit up, fully dressed—gross—and stare at the corner of the room and the comfortable looking, plush armchair.
It may appear that nobody is there, but I know I’m not alone.
The creeper chuckle coming from that direction was a dead giveaway.
My head is all heavy, making my movements feel slower than they probably are, and I barely contain a groan when I shift too quickly.
“Just eat the damn candy and drink the damn drink.” With the voice, this time, comes the physical form.
I don’t know how, but even in his demon form I still recognize him.
His head is like a sack material, tied at his neck with thick string like a terrifying scarecrow, and his eyes are nothing but black triangular holes.
His mouth is half sewn, very loosely, with a thinner string than at his neck, and he’s wearing a battered black hat with a silver buckle, reminiscent of the pilgrims. The rest of him is almost mist-like, as though he could disappear at any moment from a strong gust of wind, but I know it’s a partial illusion. I can see beneath it.
It’s Slay. Death, as Hack so kindly explained.
The normal reaction to finding Death hovering around when you wake up wouldn’t be to sass him, but none of this is normal.
“Are you just going to stand there?” I continue to stare into the dark depths of where his eyes would be, my brows raised.
“Stubborn as always.” Shaking himself free of the black mist, he now looks a lot more human. Well…that’s debatable. He’s not as muscular as Pierce or Hack, but he’s still packing more than the average man and he’s almost as tall as the door.
The way his dark-brown shoulder-length hair hangs around his face, paired with his full beard, makes it easy to imagine the hooded figure everyone dreads. Only his almost-black eyes stand out, made darker by the shadows surrounding them.
For whatever reason, I no longer fear Death—ha, I’m hilarious—so I continue to stand my ground. Metaphorically speaking, of course, because I’m not positive my legs are strong enough to hold me upright.
He rolls those black eyes, gestures his head toward the table beside the bed, and leaves.
I stand by my earlier assessment of calling him a creeper.
Still, I look at the things he so desperately wanted me to have and smile.
“Thank you, Slayme!” The nickname feels natural, like it’s not the first time I’ve used it, and I suppose that could be true. Either that or Slay and Lame just fit so well together, and I know Danika would’ve found it funny.
There’s a low huff in response to my name-calling, making my grin grow wider as I first pick up the coffee. It’s not steaming, but it’s hot enough for the delicious scent to waft up my nose and calm me. Next to it are several wrapped candies, and I’m curious enough to open one.
It’s not easy with the cup in hand, so I drink a little of the black liquid down first, devouring the notes of blackcurrant…
“Did you steal my coffee bags?” I speak loudly, just in case Slay has actually left, but the doorway darkens and I know he wasn’t far away.
“No.” He doesn’t physically appear again, but his presence doesn’t leave.
I can feel it, the same kind of sensations as I get around my spirit guide, who seems to have packed her bags and left since all of this started.
Either that or I’m just not paying attention or listening to the right vibrations.
“Then how is this the exact same brand I have at home?” I swallow the last of the coffee, then realize I’m actually being a bit of a bitch. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful, I appreciate the shit out of you for making it, but…well…how?” Because I know I’m not wrong.
He chuckles before reappearing and moving to sit in the armchair again.
“In every life, it has been your favorite. It’s a real witch-made brand, not anthros as they would have you believe. Hack makes sure all of our homes are stocked for your return.”
I think that’s the most words I’ve heard him say in the short time I’ve known him. I’m curious as to where Hack is, but I’m glad to be free of the constant war inside myself whenever he’s close.
“Well okay then. Thank you.”
Beneath the beard, I think he’s cracking a smile, but I can’t be sure, so I won’t bring attention to it.
Picking up one of the candies, I untwist the shiny black wrapper to find a cute little blue treat. It tastes like blueberries as I suck on it, too hard to bite down, so it takes me a few minutes to finish and wow. Yum.
“What are these?” I hold another up, unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth as soon as the first one is gone.
“Faerie candy. Good for clearing out your system and giving you back your energy after being poisoned.”
“Wait, what? Who was poisoned?” He raises his brows, leaning back and crossing an ankle over his knee, waiting for my brain to catch up with the situation. I wasn’t just sleeping? “Me?” I point to myself in disbelief.
He nods in response, his long hair falling into his dark eyes.
“Fuck, did Baba Yaga poison me? My own mother?” I knew that stew was too good to be true.
It’s not like she gave off warm and fuzzy mom-vibes at any point, but I have never felt that anyway so I expected it would come eventually.
After she had time to calm down from her crazed demon hating tirade.
Not so much now. “How long have I been out?”
He tilts his face toward the door for a second, sighs, then leaves the room quicker than I can blink. No explanation…nothing.
I’m beginning to think that all supernaturals are just plain rude. Zero manners.
“You’re awake!” The doorway is quickly filled by a body almost as large and muscular as Hack’s. If I didn’t know differently, I’d assume Hack and Pierce were real brothers, and not just in name.
They’re both blonde, with short hairstyles, but Pierce’s is a lot lighter, almost white, and a little longer on top by a whole centimeter. The same beautifully square jawline is shared, too, but where Hack’s stubble is dark and unsculptured, Pierce’s is perfectly shaven with neat lines.
“How are you feeling?” Pierce doesn’t move from the entrance, but he’s not being all mysterious and weird like Slay was, either, so that’s a win.
“Like I was hit upside the head with a frying pan. A heavy one. But other than that, I’m great.” I have to stop myself from talking his ear off about how that’s actually a total lie because I’m not great at all.
“You should get some more rest. Hack will be back in a few hours…probably.” He turns to walk away, leaving me with that ominous final word.
“What do you mean? Where is he?” I half expected Hack to slide from beneath the bed as soon as I woke up. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved that he didn’t.
Pierce pauses and turns back to face me. “He was summoned to the Library of Souls.”
It’s difficult to be sassy and snarky with someone with a face as kind as his, and also a little annoying. Maybe he’ll be more knowledgeable than my demon though. No, not my demon. Hack. Zelos.
“Do you know anything about this whole me dying before I’m thirty thing?” I’ve been putting off the reality of it all, focusing instead on Danika being missing or having a birth mother…who apparently poisoned me.
He sighs and folds his arms across his chest, his long-sleeve T-shirt hiding what is very likely some fantastic forearm porn. Just like Hack, his forearms are…
Focus, Sage.
“All I know is that you are likely hexed—”
“I know that. It’s apparently why I want to run far away from Hack instead of whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Is it all the same hex?” My questions are burning, my need for information clawing at my insides, so really, I should let him talk instead of interrupting again but it’s not easy.
“No. This hatred for Hack is new in this life.”
I’m biting my tongue because I’m pretty sure I knew that already, too. So now I feel like I’m asking the wrong questions and I’ve probably wasted my opportunity because Pierce may be friendly, but he’s beginning to look bored.
“Hack has been looking for a cure to your death hex for a long time. All I know is that it always happens, and you always come back, never fully reaching your kyn maturity.” He shrugs and nods toward the offerings from Slay on the bedside table.
“Finish the candy and feel free to come out for lunch when you’re ready. ”
He really does leave this time.
The dull throb behind my eyes ever since I woke up has gone completely by the time I finish the last of the faerie candy and my coffee cup is now empty.
I think I’m ready to go out and experience this new world.
Before I passed out, for the milliontyeth time lately, I remember seeing some fantastical beings that weren’t even real in my wildest dreams. So I can only imagine what I’ll see with the chance to explore.
May as well see shit before I drop dead.