Chapter 9
nine
Dust Mites from Another Dimension
Idon’t even mention the shirts to him because I doubt he’d put that on gently, either. If he rips everything I’ve gotten him an hour after buying it I know I’m going to be upset, so I just let it go. He can be shirtless—not that it bothers me.
I haul in the litter box, Oscar’s food, toys, and beds first, then go back for my things.
Bastian stands in the doorway watching, arms crossed.
After my fourth or fifth trip, I notice that some of the boxes have moved from the doorway to the stairs.
On my seventh trip, the boxes are gone. Hopefully they’re upstairs, but knowing this beast, they could be in a smoldering pit or sacrificed to whatever monster he’s trying to summon.
Suddenly, the May chill feels more like a heatwave. There’s sweat on my brow, and I’m panting a little. I stop on the eighth load to pump my sweater and take a drink from my bookish, sticker-plastered water bottle.
My car was really packed to the gills.
I lock it up and when I come back into the shop, Bastian is hefting the last box from the floor into his arms.
“So, he can be useful,” I say snarkily.
His expression hardens and he opens his arms. My mouth hangs open as I watch the box drop to the ground with a whoomph.
“Seriously?” I demand, my voice cracking.
He shrugs and walks toward the stairs.
I growl as I retrieve the box. Fortunately, it’s just art prints from my favorite books and some knickknacks wrapped in towels so it’s light and likely undamaged. I carry it as I follow him up the stairs, mumbling more curses at his backside.
He’s ripped another hole in his sweats to allow space for his tail to emerge and I grumble. They’ll never survive a coin laundry like this. I’ll have to sew them.
The apartment is brighter than before, and I realize Bastian has pushed open the interior shutters on the windows. He’s piled all my things in the corner by the wood burning stove, and Oscar is currently enjoying lying across two of his beds that look purposefully placed.
My gaze shoots to Bastian. I can’t get a read on the dragon. Is he a jerk? Or not?
I close my eyes and shake my head. That is not anything I need to care about right now.
My phone is only at fifteen percent battery, but that’s more than enough to make a few phone calls.
I pull up my notes app and locate the list of to-dos I made for myself before we left L.A.
I mark off “Handle the Lizard Problem” which I had scrawled in between “Assess the Space” and “Call Utilities.”
The first utility on the list is Electrical. It’s an automated system that goes pretty smoothly. I get a text a few minutes into my call with the water company telling me the power is on, so I try a light switch.
Nothing.
Bulbs must be dead.
Bastian pretends not to listen to my conversation with the water company as I walk through the apartment. I find the bathroom first, which has an enormous clawfoot tub that I cannot wait to fill to the brim with searing-hot Epsom salt water.
I’m on hold with the water woman, so I move on to the next door in the apartment.
“You shouldn’t go in there,” Bastian says.
I roll my eyes and pretend like I didn’t hear him.
The door opens to a room about twelve by fifteen feet.
Not too shabby for a bedroom. It has a window overlooking the business beside me on the right.
It’s a little dirty, but the wood floors are real and just need some elbow grease to really shine.
The walls need a good layer of Keelz and some paint, but they’re totally salvageable, unlike the main room.
I walk to the window and dust motes swirl around my feet. The woman clicks back on the line and I stop at the window, looking out. I scratch my ankle as I give the water lady my date of birth and the last four of my social.
She takes my information to set up an account in the online portal as I stare out across the street. The town really is cute and—
Oh my fuck, my ankles itch…
I glare down at the spot just above my boot to see something chewing through my stocking!
Not just one thing, but dozens of tiny little glowing bugs!
I yelp as I bat at my ankles, trying to smash the bugs.
The woman on the phone asks if I’m all right—no I am not—and I barely get out a, “Yeah, sorry.”
I run from the bedroom to the bathroom and get into the tub, sitting on the edge.
Please turn on the water already, lady!
I bounce my legs as she goes on and on, batting at the little beasts crawling over my legs to no avail. It’s as if they’re ghosts, or I am. I can’t touch them, but they’re definitely eating my stockings. I have several holes already.
Bastian leans against the doorjamb, a self-satisfied grin plastered to his face.
“Okay, Ms. Kennedy, you’re all set up,” the woman says and I nearly cry with relief. “Water should be flowing in the next hour.”
“Hour?” I screech. “Okay, great, awesome. Thank you so much!”
“Uh, yeah, if you’ll stay on the line to take a quick survey—”
I hang up and look at Bastian. “Help me!”
“I told you not to go in there,” he says.
“Please, please Bastian! They’re eating my legs!” I scream, slapping at them with the same result: nada.
“They’re not carnivorous,” he says as he leans over my shoulder.
I keep slapping my legs because cheese and rice, they ITCH.
Bastian snatches my wrists in his iron grip with one hand and sniffs the air.
“Dust mites,” he says, then grumbles something in a language I don’t know.
His other hand snaps out like a whip and he captures one of the bugs eating through my stockings. He pinches the green glowing thing between his fingers and holds it closer to his face with a snarl.
“These little beasts ate the cover off my Dick.”
A little “heh” escapes me because how could it not.
“Dust mites don’t typically glow,” I say. “They’re little brown bugs that just live in the carpet.”
“These are not your frail, pink flesh dust mites. They are of the Dust Devourer phylum, a group of species not native to this realm.”
“Realm?”
“Plane, domain, sphere, dimension, whatever you want to call it, the being is not from this world, nor from the universe your Earth inhabits.”
He presses his fingers together and the bug audibly pops as it disappears.
“Where did it go?” I ask, my voice a little frantic. I try to take a deep breath but hell on earth my legs are on itchy fire.
“I…sent it home,” he says as he reaches for the next bug.
That’s when I see it, a black sheen surrounding his fingers. He’s not grabbing them with his hand, but with his magic. He plucks them free, one by one, and the incessant itch that had me on the brink of madness decreases steadily.
When the final bug is pulled from my legs and squished out of this realm, I groan in relief. “So much better.”
His grip tightens on my wrists, and I look up at him. His pale eyes bore into mine. I know I owe him gratitude for this, despite him being a total jerk all day.
“Thank you,” I say. “Sincerely.”
The golden scales on his cheekbones glimmer, but then he blinks, and looks away.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he says, releasing my hands. “They would’ve eaten my treasures.”
I grunt. “Well, thank you for not killing them, either.”
He raises an eyebrow.
I scoff. “I know it’s silly, but I try to avoid killing creatures when I can. It just doesn’t seem right, you know. They’re just going about their business. I wouldn’t appreciate it if some higher being squished me for no reason.”
He studies me silently for another uncomfortable moment, then turns away.
Awesome bedside manner.
I blow a raspberry and open my to-do list, then check off the water utility box. Next up, internet. Please, for the love of god, let there be an internet option.
I stay on the side of the tub, picking at the holes in my stockings as I talk to the local Disch Network dude. Apparently, satellite is the only game in town, so, whatever. Wi-Fi is Wi-Fi, and I’m going to need it for processing sales.
I remember how the kid at the grocery store said it was down, then ask the technician, “Is the service pretty reliable?”
He “uhs” for a long time.
“Never mind.”
The technicians will be out in a few days to install my Disch, so I mark off another item.
Oscar mewls loudly from the other room and I realize it’s already evening.
It’s still so light out for eight, it seems more like six.
Maybe that’s just what it’s like living this far north.
I bet winters are going to be so cozy. I’ll be lighting that wood burning stove every night.
I walk back into the main room to see Bastian is once again at the center of his summoning ring, eyes closed, meditating or whatever. I get a hefty scoop of food out of Oscar’s bin and drop it in his bowl next to his water dish that I filled from my bottle earlier.
My stomach growls, so I shove a protein bar in it and hook my phone up to my portable power bank. I decide I deserve dessert, so I have an apple with a smear of peanut butter that I have to lick off my fingers.
I swear Bastian’s face is a different shade of green when I catch him looking my way. Can he see better than he’s letting on? Maybe the books are helping?
Doesn’t matter. Not my business. I don’t care.
Time to get back to work.
I close off the bedroom and put a checklist item on my to-dos to handle the infestation, somehow…
I sweep the floors and pick up large debris, and then when my body demands a tinkle, I test the water. Thank science it flows, so I flush the toilet a few times to get it going, crossing my legs all the while, and then handle my business.
Toilet paper.
I forgot toilet paper.
Fuck.
I shuffle off the toilet with my holey hose around my ankles and hoist my skirt up as I sit backwards on the edge of the bathtub.
I let the water run for a few minutes until it’s clear, then splash some on my bottom and crotch to get clean.
I scroll through my phone and set up an auto-order from Purchazon for TP, paper towels, and several other must have consumables.
When my booty has finally dried, I pull up my panties and stand, only to wobble on my feet. It’s not even that late, but I’m so pooped. No point in fighting it.
I pull my night bag into the bathroom and change. Stars and moons pants over my shorts I think, since it will probably get cold, and a baggy shirt. I set the girls free, groaning at the freedom my back suddenly feels.
There’s a sharp intake of breathe on the other side of the door and I pop it open. Oscar is sitting in front of it like a sentry and Bastian is meandering around his Bookhenge casually—or in an attempt of casualness. He looks guilty.
My eyes narrow to slits. “Were you peeping on me?”
He points to his eyes and the cataracts flash.
I look down at Oscar and he glances up at me.
“Was he peeping?”
“Muurf,” he grumbles.
Bastian scoffs. “You made a noise. I thought you were”—he shrugs as he stammers—“being attacked by dust mites.”
That was not the noise I made, at all.
“Uh huh.” I pat Oscar. “Good boy. Scratch his scales off next time.”
Oscar leans into the touch and gives a throaty purr.
I brush my teeth as I roll out my air mattress and start the arduous process of pumping it up with the foot pedal.
Back in the day when the air pump was outside the mattress, you could replace it.
But with this new-aged tech, they have to put it inside the mattress.
So when mine broke years ago and I decided that I didn’t get enough visitors to justify buying a new one, I committed myself to this… pumping by foot.
And pumping.
And pumping.
Bastian pretends not to watch, but I catch him smirking. Stupid dragon. I know what he would say, too. Weak little pink flesh needs a bed of air to sleep on. I sleep on the floor just fine.
I scoff as I dress the bed, then flop into it with an ungraceful oof. Oscar jumps up with me immediately, and curls against my side. Seems like he’s pretty pooped, too.
I glance over at Bastian in the near darkness and catch the shimmer of his golden scales between the pillars of books.
If he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve done it already. It’s not as if I can put up any real resistance while awake, why wait until I’m sleeping?
I sigh out the last of my worry as exhaustion takes me, closing my eyes to the sweet oblivions of sleep.