Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Winter
"Ineed to get out of this apartment before I lose my mind," I announced, bursting out of my bedroom where I'd been staring at the ceiling for the past hour. "I'm going grocery shopping."
It was just Fenric and Rook with me.
Fenric looked up from his tablet, his expression somewhere between horror and constipation. "That is absolutely out of the question. The risk assessment we would have to go over, not to mention we have the vending machine."
"I don't care what your matrix indicates," I cut him off, grabbing my purse from the counter.
"I haven't left this place in days except for that spa trip, which ended with me covered in magical relaxation goo.
I need normal human activities or I'm going to start turning people into houseplants for fun. "
As if to emphasize my point, the blue markings on my arm flared briefly, causing the lights to flicker. Frank swam in frantic circles in his bowl.
Rook, who'd been silently monitoring the windows, turned to face me. "Grocery shopping." His tone made it sound like I'd suggested bungee jumping into an active volcano.
"Yes, Rook. Grocery shopping. That thing where people who eat food go to obtain said food if they don't have a magical vending machine.
" I crossed my arms. "I'm not some helpless prophecy pawn who needs to be bubble-wrapped.
I managed to feed myself for thirty-one years before this whole mess started. "
His amber eyes narrowed slightly. "It's dangerous."
"So is keeping me locked up until I snap and accidentally remake reality into a world where everything is made of cheese," I countered. "Besides, you'll be with me. Isn't that your job? To protect me while I live my life?"
Something flickered across his face, surprise, maybe, that I'd acknowledged his role as something other than an imposition.
"Fine," he finally grunted. "But we take precautions."
Fenric looked like he might spontaneously combust. "This is highly irregular! Protocol dictates…"
"I'll file the paperwork," Rook interrupted, which shocked me into momentary silence. Rook, voluntarily offering to deal with bureaucracy? "Winter needs..." he seemed to struggle with the words, "...normalcy."
Thirty minutes and what felt like seventeen thousand forms later, Rook and I stepped out of the apartment building. The autumn air felt gloriously fresh after days of recycled apartment atmosphere. I took a deep breath, savoring the scent of fallen leaves and city exhaust.
"There's a farmer's market three blocks east," I pointed. "We can walk."
Rook grunted, falling into step beside me. His eyes constantly scanned our surroundings, his head turning at the slightest sound. He walked slightly behind me but to my left, positioning himself between me and the street. The protective gesture wasn't lost on me.
"You know, normal people make conversation when they walk together," I glanced at him. "They say things like 'nice weather' or 'how about those sports teams?'"
He gave me a sidelong look. "Nice weather," he deadpanned.
I couldn't help the laugh that burst out of me. "Was that a joke? Did the big bad wolf just make a joke?"
The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation."
"Your secret's safe with me," I promised, my smile lingering as we continued walking.
As we rounded the corner, the farmers market exploded before my eyes in a riot of color and magic that made my breath catch. Unlike the sterile grocery stores with their neat rows and fluorescent lighting, this place pulsed with wild, vibrant energy.
Floating lanterns bobbed between stalls, changing colors based on shoppers' moods, turning pink near couples holding hands, deep purple beside a brooding teenage witch.
Vendors hawked their wares from booths where produce literally sang its freshness.
A cluster of tomatoes harmonized a jaunty tune about their ripeness, while nearby a bunch of asparagus whispered promises about their nutritional benefits in sultry voices.
"Fresh transformation fungi! Change your appearance for up to six hours!" Called a gnome, his mushroom display glowing in hypnotic patterns.
At the center, a massive oak tree stretched skyward, its branches laden with fruits that shifted seasonally, one branch dripping with summer peaches while another sprouted autumn apples. Pixies darted between the leaves, sprinkling enchantment dust that made the fruits sparkle.
"Careful," Rook murmured close to my ear, his warm breath sending unexpected shivers down my spine. "That vendor's selling mood-altering berries. One bite and you'll be singing show tunes for days."
"Maybe we should grab a few for Fenric."
Rook cleared his throat and I knew he agreed.
I watched two humans haggle ferociously with a troll over a sack of color-changing potatoes, the negotiations punctuated by small magical sparks.
"Okay," I looked at my hastily scrawled list. "I need actual food, not whatever that vending machine thinks I should eat. Fresh fruit, vegetables, pasta…"
"Protein," Rook interrupted. "You need more protein."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you my nutritionist now?"
"You're too thin," he frowned, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking.
"I'm many things, but 'too thin' has never been one of them," I laughed, patting my round stomach. "But I appreciate the concern. We'll get protein too."
We made our way through the market, Rook took my bag from me and we gradually filled it with actual food instead of the "nutritionally optimized" food the Bureau's vending machine provided.
I lingered over a display of peaches, testing each one for ripeness.
"These look good," I held one up to Rook. "Want one?"
He leaned in, sniffing it cautiously. The proximity sent an unexpected flutter through my stomach. He was close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes, the shadow of stubble along his jaw.
"Too soft," he selected a different one and placed it in my hand. "This one's better."
Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and I could have sworn I felt him tense at the contact. I quickly added the peach to our bag, and tried to ignore the lingering warmth where his skin had touched mine.
As we moved through the stalls, I was surprised to find Rook becoming more engaged.
He had opinions about bread (That one smells like chemicals), cheese (Too processed), and pasta (Get the kind with protein).
When we reached a specialty stall with magical ingredients, he even cracked another joke about moon-phase sensitive werewolf treats that had me giggling like an idiot.
"I didn't know you could be funny," I admitted as we navigated around a goblin vendor aggressively promoting something labeled "Probably Edible! No Refunds!"
"I have my moments," Rook shrugged, but there was a softness to his expression I hadn't seen before.
We turned down the next area, where two spell vendors were having a heated argument over shelf space, their competing enchantments causing nearby products to rattle ominously. Rook steered me away with a light touch at my elbow, his hand warm and steady.
"See?" I smiled up at him as we moved toward a stall that had some dairy products. "Normal grocery shopping. No prophecy disasters, no reality breaches, just two people buying food like regular…"
"GET DOWN!" Rook suddenly shoved me behind a display of magical yogurt, his body covering mine as something whizzed over our heads.
The yogurt display exploded, splattering us with blueberry-infused probiotic culture. Shoppers screamed and scattered as four figures in floral-print aprons emerged from behind a stall, their hands glowing with sinister energy.
"Cultists," Rook growled, his eyes flashing yellow. "Disguised as produce vendors."
"Seriously?" I wiped yogurt from my face. "I can't even grocery shop without this prophecy bullshit following me?"
One of the cultists, a woman with an unnaturally wide smile and a name tag reading "Happy to Help!" pointed at us. "The Chalice-Bearer! Seize her for the Master!"
Rook pushed me further behind him, his body beginning to change as claws extended from his fingertips. "Stay behind me."
"Like hell," I grabbed a can of enchanted whipped cream from a nearby stall and sprayed it at the nearest cultist. The cream expanded on contact, encasing his head in a sugary foam prison. He stumbled backward, clawing at his face.
The second cultist, a thin man with dead eyes, reached into his apron and pulled out what looked like an ancient stone, covered in runes similar to the ones on my arm. Before I could react, he hurled it directly at us.
Rook lunged to intercept it, but the stone grazed his side before clattering to the floor. He stumbled, a pained growl escaping him as an angry red burn spread across his ribs, visible through his now-torn shirt.
"Rook!" I reached for him as he fell to one knee, his face contorted in pain.
"It's nothing," he gritted out, though the magical burn was clearly anything but. Despite his injury, he half-transformed, features sharpening, muscles bulging as he launched himself at the cultist who'd thrown the stone. He pinned the man to the ground, claws at his throat.
The third cultist and the woman circled around, cutting off my escape route. The woman's hands crackled with dark energy as she approached.
"Come quietly, Vessel." Her voice had an unnatural echo. "The Harbingers await your arrival."
Something inside me snapped. Seeing Rook injured, these people threatening me, invading the one normal moment I'd managed to carve out for myself, it was too much. A wave of white-hot fury washed over me, and with it came power, raw and uncontrolled.
The blue markings on my arm blazed like fire, spreading up my shoulder and across my chest in a network of glowing lines. I felt the magic surge through me, no longer a foreign presence but an extension of my rage.
"Get. Away. From. Us." Each word sent a pulse of energy outward, distorting the air around me.