Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Of course Nick had to stay behind. I got checked and released by the paramedics with strict instructions to rest and go to the hospital if I began feeling any effects of magic depletion. Zahide cleared me with a brief exam before sending me home.
When he found out my plan was to call an Uber, Nick insisted on sending one of the uniformed cops working outside the building to take me home. It would have been cute if it wasn’t a little overprotective. Still, given the way my finances were, I wasn’t going to turn down a free ride.
By the time I got home, it was morning, the sun painting the sidewalk a warm yellow. I waved goodbye to the cop and then headed inside. Every part of me was ready to collapse into my bed, and when I got off the elevator, I winced.
Jeffrey Jenkins stood near my door. He had a large toolbox in one hand, and grinned when he saw me.
“Hello, Parker,” he said. “So sorry to tell you, but your apartment has been having power issues! Probably won’t get fixed until... oh, maybe next month?”
I clenched my teeth so tightly I could practically hear my fillings cracking. Behind Jeffrey, Shannon’s head popped out of the door, her brown eyes going wide and then she was running towards me.
“I was so worried,” she said. “I felt something going on, but I couldn’t get to you.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Sure. I’m sure if anyone can survive in the dark it’s you,” Jeffrey said. “But just as a reminder, any open flames in apartments are forbidden.”
I looked at Shannon and an idea formed. “Dragon’s breath, Jeffrey! Did you turn off the power?”
Pushing past him, I opened the door and revealed Shannon’s bed inside. With the lights off, it looked eerie, her skin painted blue. She was breathing, but it was so shallow I bet Jeffrey wouldn’t even notice it.
“You killed Shannon!” I turned on Jeffrey. Running to the body, I lifted her arm, letting it fall with a solid thump back on the bed. “She was alive and you turned off her power!”
Jeffrey turned ashen, his mouth hanging open. “What— But— Who—”
“My mother!” I said. “She needed that power to live!”
“A little much?” Shannon asked, her hands on her hips. She raised an eyebrow and I shot her a narrow look. Cracking a smile, she squinted at Jeffrey.
He was looking around the room, panicked. “But, what? How—?”
“You’ll have to tell people someone died here,” I said. “And I’ll be telling the cops all about how I had power yesterday when I left, and you with the tools...”
“No,” Jeffrey said, shaking his head. He backed away. “No. I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
One of my neighbors, one I didn’t know by name so much as the fact she always let her kids run in the halls, cracked open her door and peeked out. Her eyes widened when she saw my dark apartment, Jeffrey’s tools, and what looked like a corpse. Hastily, she shut her door.
“I didn’t kill anybody,” he shouted.
Turning tail and running, he slammed open the door to the stairwell. Shannon’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the look of him. I think he’ll be having very bad dreams tonight.”
“This is why they kicked you out of your care facility,” I said. Moving to the windows, I threw open the blinds and let in some bright morning light.
“Well,” Shannon huffed. “What’s the point of being a ghost if you can’t haunt some people who deserve it?”
Shutting the door, I gestured after Jeffrey with a sweep of my arms. “Go ahead. If anyone deserves bad dreams it’s that guy.”
Giving me two thumbs up, Shannon walked through the door, hot on Jeffrey’s heels.
I glanced at her body, unsure if I should be creeped out by sharing the room with a shell.
Making a face, I shrugged. I had bigger issues.
My whole body felt sticky; a thin layer of grime had worked its way into every crevice.
Shower first then food, I decided. With the decision made, I headed for the bathroom, tossing all my clothes in a pile. The shower was glorious, even if I had to take it in the dark, feeling for the soap and washcloth by memory.
By the time I got out, morning light had bathed the bedroom a warm white and I picked out a pair of track pants and a t-shirt from a local band Laurel used to like. I tripped over the pile of dirty laundry and groaned.
‘Pile’ was perhaps underselling its size. I’d put a load in the washer downstairs before making myself dinner. Breakfast. Dinfest?
Shoving everything in a laundry bag regardless of color, I hefted it and grabbed my keys before leaving my apartment. Halfway down the hall, a door creaked open. I turned, expecting it to be the neighbor I’d scared with Shannon’s ‘corpse’ but it was Malcolm’s door.
With a sigh, I shuffled towards the door, unsure what else the day could hand me.
Stepping inside, I was back in the San Amaro hills, in whatever incredibly expensive house Malcolm had linked to the door in Las Vistas.
I was pretty sure the actual house existed in the hills, but how did the doors work? And why did Malcolm need so many?
The house was still and I left my laundry near the door, blocking the door from shutting just in case the house got any funny ideas.
“Sorry I haven’t been back. The past few days have been hard. But, I got the guy who killed Malcolm,” I said. “So, if that’s all this is, then you can... rest? You can go?”
There was a hissing sound and I followed it to the kitchen where the chef’s stove had two pans on it; one held snapping bacon and the other was full of eggs. Both looked almost done and so I shut off the gas and grabbed a plate from the cabinet, serving myself a generous portion of each.
“This is for me, right?” I asked, bacon already halfway to my mouth.
A fork appeared on the counter and I took that as a yes. Pulling out one of the stools from the kitchen island, I sat down and began shoveling food into my mouth. I was so hungry I barely tasted what I was eating. When my appetite slowed, I looked around.
There was less stuff than the last time I’d been in the house. In fact, other than the furniture, it looked like almost everything personal to Malcolm was gone.
“I think I’m getting a message here,” I said. “You want me to move in?”
Tapping my fingers on the counter, I thought out loud. “This is the Windrose’s house and I’m the Windrose now?”
Well, at least it had electricity, which was a step up from my current place. I stood, and started to give myself a tour when someone called my name from the entryway. Nick had one hand on the door, his other on his gun.
When he saw me, he sighed in relief.
“How’d you know where I was?” I asked.
He pointed at the laundry bag, which had my name written on it in large letters.
I hadn’t looked at it in so long I’d forgotten.
It was one of the bags from foster care.
They’d use big bags like this because trash bags might tear, and they could fit all of our things in a bag like this.
No folding necessary. Schoolbooks, clothes, toys, anything we called ours would have to fit in the bag or get left behind.
I looked around the house, my eyes catching on the space for all my things. If I lived here, it would be mine, for as long as I was Windrose. No shoving everything in a bag necessary.
“What is this place?” Nick seemed hesitant to step inside, but I waved him in and shut the door behind us. When I looked, my laundry bag had vanished.
“You better be doing my laundry and not eating it,” I muttered to the house.
“Parker?” Nick said, confused.
“I don’t know, this house is sentient, maybe. This is where the old Windrose lived. I think I inherited it.”
“This house is an apartment in your building?” Nick asked.
“That’s just a portal or a shortcut or something,” I said. “I’m pretty sure the house is in the hills. Don’t ask me to explain, I don’t know yet, either.”
Nick looked around. “Well, it’s certainly big.”
“Yeah. I don’t even have enough stuff to fill up this place.”
“Really? I assume you’ll need one room just for your laundry,” Nick teased.
“Okay, I was on my way to do my laundry when I got sidetracked,” I said. “How’s your uncle doing?”
“He’s still in and out of consciousness. I left Sam with him. My dad is flying down tonight.” He tightened his lips, like he wanted to say more, but kept silent.
“You should get some sleep,” I said.
“So should you,” he said.
He looked like he’d come directly from the scene; his skin had the same haze of dirt mine had had pre-shower.
“Come on,” I said. “There has to be a shower around here somewhere.”
It turned out there were several. We decided on the master bathroom, which had a pile of towels and scented soaps. While he showered, I went to make him food, deciding on a BLT to use the leftover bacon.
“Thanks.” Nick took the plate from me.
I pointed. “You’re naked.”
He had one of the thick towels around his waist and a few remaining droplets of water on his shoulders.
“My clothes were—” He made a face. “Can I borrow some from your place?”
“You could,” I drew out the word. “Or we could enjoy what we have going here.”
“And what is that?”
“Why don’t you finish your food and we can find out?”
Nick scarfed down the sandwich, whether out of hunger or desire, and followed me to the nearest bedroom. I pushed him back on the bed, and straddled his hips. His shoulders were broad under my hands, and black hair dusted his stomach, leading down to where he’d knotted the towel.
“Can I suck you?” I asked, the words awkward on my tongue. I wanted to just take him, but I remembered our first time, and waited.
“Yes.” He leaned back.
Scooting down, I dipped my head and wrapped my mouth around him, enjoying the feel of his soft cock hardening between my lips. I increased the suction and moaned a little as he bucked his hips, a shudder of need. His fingers tightened on the sheets and I moved one of his hands to my hair.
He groaned, a desperate sound as he twisted my hair in his fingers. The sharp tug was perfect, grounding me and reminding me who I was with. He whispered my name, a mantra that sounded like he was casting me into being with magic.
When he came, it was hot and salty, and I swallowed it down, pulling off with a wet sound that made me grind my own dick into the covers. For a moment, I lay with my forehead on his stomach and felt his chest rise and fall, panting slowing after a bit.
“Come here,” he coaxed, and he drew me up, until I was spread out on top of him. His fingers ran up and down my back, and the motion was so soothing, I was sure I was going to fall asleep, hard-on or no.
After a bit, I felt his hand dip lower, teasing the waistband of my pants.
“Can I finger you?”
I was so relaxed I was sure I was half dreaming. “Yes,” I said to his chest.
He hummed, and I felt the vibration in my lips where they rested near his nipple. With a flip so fast I barely had time to blink, he’d turned us so he was on top, me still face down under him. Shifting his weight back, he pulled my pants down just enough to show off my ass.
Slowly, he pressed a fingertip to my hole. It was dry, but I didn’t protest. I trusted him.
When he pushed it inside, I gasped. It should have felt like a breach, but instead, it made me whimper. It wasn’t enough. I shifted again, my dick leaking into my pants where I was trapped between the bed and Nick’s weight.
“More,” I said, the word pleading.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nick agreed. He pushed in a second finger, still careful not to move them too much, and then curled them, hitting my prostate and rubbing small circles.
I cried out, pressing down into the bedding. His other hand worked its way around me and I felt his fingers tighten on my dick as his heavy weight held me down, his fingers still hitting me just right inside.
It was impossible not to come.
My vision whited out and when I came to, Nick was wiping me off with a wet cloth, his expression smug.
“Oh, please,” I said. “I’ve had better.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I teased. “I’d give that a B-plus. You’re going to have to come back for some extra tutoring. It’ll mean lots of practice.”
“Maybe some more practice exams?” Nick sprawled next to me.
“Daily,” I confirmed. I pressed a kiss to his lips and enjoyed his palm on my back where it had snuck under my shirt.
“I can do that,” he said.
“Good,” I said. “We’ll start work after a nap.”