Chapter Eight
Austin
Austin crept up the stairs at first light.
I’m being silly. She can see me. He wanted to apologize for his behavior, especially the hug.
I won’t do that again. Not if it brought old memories that didn’t belong to her.
Especially not since it was a terrible one.
So, he took a cue from Sebastian and Smith, taking a tray of food up to her room.
A pile of scrambled eggs full of cheese and garlic, buttery biscuits covered in jam and cut up sausage patties.
She wasn’t supposed to be eating fully solid foods, but these were the softest in the house and…
well…he’d eaten waaaaay worse when he was first created.
In fact, he had a distinct memory of eating a chicken, beak and all.
A memory he was preparing in his head to tell her.
It’s one of my first memories, so it counts.
Excited to tell her the silly tale, he opened the bedroom door with his foot.
Only to stall, tray raised in one hand, other out to the side to balance himself, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
Hyacinth lay face down in her pillows like a log.
A dead log. A dead log full of rocks sank to the bottom of the ocean. His heart lurched.
“Hyacinth!” he yelped.
“Huh!” Her leg kicked and the dead woman flopped to the right.
She swiftly careened off the edge of the bed, arms flapping rapidly to catch herself.
Unfortunately, Austin couldn’t get to her before she fell.
She hit the ground with a thud as Austin set the tray on the floor beside her.
She’d tangled herself up in the sheets and thrashed.
Every tug she gave was in the opposite of where he pulled.
His fingers were too big for such fiddly work.
“You were—no, this way. You’ve made a knot.” He gasped for air inbetween trying to kindly bark instructions.
“I feel like a knot.” Came her muffled reply.
“Left, no, my left.”
“How do I tell who’s left I’m turning?”
Austin opened his mouth to teach her the trick of hands when he grabbed ahold of her hand…
and it wasn’t her hand in his grasp. He stared down at a mangled palm, ripped flesh and gnarled bone, claws like that of a cat.
Austin followed the forearm into the sheets where Hyacinth kicked and found another woman in there with her.
A woman who stared out through her auburn hair.
Deep set eyes surrounded by dark purple half-moons, they glared at him.
The nightmarish palm curled around him and he wrenched back.
Austin stumbled away from the sheets, crawling backward as the second woman disappeared. When Hyacinth huffed, flipping the fabric off her, he was already hidden from her at the end of the bed.
“Austin?” she asked, but he couldn’t look her way. Instead, his eyes were leveled at the bedroom door. His heart rapidly slammed against his ribs. Sucking in air through his nose, he tried to find words to answer her. What was that? Who was that?
He felt the shake of the bed, and he chanced a glance over his shoulder. Austin found her with her back to the side of the mattress, the tray of food in her lap.
“Hyacinth?” he exhaled.
“I remembered you didn’t want me to see you,” she answered.
A fork clanked against the plate. Austin hung his head.
Dang it! Again! This was supposed to be his moment to show her his face.
He could still do it, but the second he tried to round the corner of the bed, he remembered the angry woman living in Hyacinth’s hair.
It forced him to swallow hard. Is that a Fae thing?
“I, uh, brought you breakfast.” He managed to say through a cowardly, heavy tongue.
“Thank you!” her voice was cheery, and it eased the tension in his shoulders. I’ll do better next time. He settled his back against the footboard, laying his head back against the tousled sheets. The ones she didn’t dislodge when she fell out of bed.
“Hyacinth, can I ask you a question?” He turned his head, as if his words were a snake that needed direction to reach her.
“I ask you plenty, it’s only fair,” she snorted through a full mouth, clearly enjoying her breakfast. It made him smile to sneak a peek over the top of the bed and find her swaying happily while she ate.
“Why were you face down when I walked in?” he chuckled.
“Oh!” She put up a finger as if to ask for a moment while she threw back a handful of biscuit crumbs. After a long moment of chomping, she cleared her throat. “I like screaming but I don’t want to disturb anyone.”
Austin sat, frozen for a moment. Eyebrows furrowed, he let the information wash over him.
I like screaming? She liked to scream? Did that mean?
No…he couldn’t assume but maybe? A glimmer of hope bloomed in his chest that she didn’t scream at him.
Maybe she’s part banshee? Like Agatha who screams to use her magic?
A warm smile curled up on his face as he nodded. “Right on.”
She giggled, then gasped, “Oh! That was a joke! Wasn’t it! It made me laugh! I am funny!”
Austin sputtered, “I think you’re funny.”
“Maybe I was made to be funny?” she murmured mostly to herself, and he felt weird correcting her.
She wasn’t made to be anything but a person.
Even Sebastian said he simply wanted to add to the family.
Another person in the world who knew what it was like to be undead.
But that put a strange pressure on her that he didn’t like.
Austin didn’t want her to be his friend solely because she was made for that purpose.
Or because Sebastian was worried about him.
He wanted her to be his friend because she was a delightfully curious person who made him feel important.
Wise, even, for having answers to questions no one else would have.
“What were you made for Austin?” Her question broke him out of his thoughts.
“I was Lord Rosemont’s proof that he could bring something to life.
” Austin returned his focus to the bedroom door as he replayed the moment.
Sebastian sat him down on a dock, the pair staring out at a destroyed ocean, Austin having been alive for only a day, and the lich beside him confessed.
I just needed to prove I could still do something good…
when all I’ve done is kill. “He was much more practiced when he made you. And you weren’t in pieces. ”
“Just the big hole in my torso, I suppose,” she hummed thoughtfully.
“And your wings,” he grimaced. She made a noise somewhere between a grunt and grumble of acknowledgement.
When he glanced over the bed, he found her finishing up her last biscuit while her other hand used the fork like a spear.
Stabbing her eggs like fish in a river, she finally got a soft stack on the spikes then ate them viciously.
When she finished, she put her tray aside and flopped back against the bed.
It hardly made the thing shift. While if he had done the same the bed would be outside and suddenly there’d be a new window.
She was so odd, he liked how she moved about without question.
When she spoke, he hung on every word. “Austin, where did you find me?”
“Oh…uh…” How do I tell her that? Austin grimaced as he glanced back down to his fingers. Like the dead man’s blood was still stuck to his palms, he tried to wipe them off on his thighs. Nothing would get the imaginary viscera out from under his fingernails. Finally, he answered, “In the woods.”
“Do you think you could take me there someday? When my legs or wings can take me?”
“Of course,” he croaked. It was a fair request. “You sure you want to see it?”
“I think so but…if I don’t like what I see, can Lord Rosemont just take out my eyeballs and give me new ones that didn’t see it?”
Austin sputtered, choking on his tongue. “I don’t think it works that way.”
Hyacinth huffed, “What good are replacing parts if it doesn’t work like that.”
There was a sound, a shuffling sound that confused him.
It took too long for him to realize what was happening and by the time he did, it was too late.
Austin gasped, frozen in place as Hyacinth rounded the corner of the bed.
He stared up at her terrified for a moment till he realized her eyes were closed.
She knelt down beside him and stretched her arms wide.
Her face was so pretty and at peace, lips curled up in a small smile.
“I would like to retry the hug. Could I have one, please?”
Austin brimmed with electricity as he shifted to the side, putting his arms past hers and around her torso.
Don’t mess it up. You got this. Just hug her like a regular person and don’t break her very delicate spine or wings.
He slowly scooped her forward till her face was nestled into the center of his chest. When her arms were wrapped around his torso, his heart leapt up into his throat.
He had to swallow the organ back down before he tasted his own anxiety.
Hyacinth nuzzled her face against his shirt and hummed, “Much better results.”
“No hands? This time?” he wheezed.
“Other than ours, no hands.”
“Good,” he sighed with utter relief. “Good.”
No hands coming out of trees. And definitely no scary ladies hiding in your hair.