~*~
Hunter reformed in his cabin, lost in the Norwegian wilderness.
It might have been small, but that place was nothing short of a shrine for sensory pleasure. Say what you want about humans, and he would have a thing or two on them after millennia in their nightmares, but when it came to physical indulgence, their bodies were simply superior.
The cabin was made with that in mind.
One massive room held it all.
A huge bed, because he loved to sleep. A TV, because he loved movies. A huge fridge for the human food he’d get from wherever he had a taste for. And at its center, his altar of choice: a Jacuzzi large enough to baptize all of his sins in bubbles. He fired it up with a flick of his fingers, the jets growling awake in promise. Foam churned to the surface.
Hunter slid into it with a groan and a sigh and closed his eyes.
He’d been around for a long, long time. He’d done things, lots of them. Seen things. But never, ever, had it felt like now was the best time of his existence while shit poured from everywhere.
Obviously, the best part of his life was because of her.
Daphne was doing something to him, and whatever it was, he loved it. He’d promised her he’d stay away from her thoughts, and he had. Honest. At some point, he’d stopped tipping around her feelings, too, because he didn’t need it. It was like he’d developed an extra consciousness that was linked to her.
And as for the shit... it was a lot and it stank, bad.
That memory. It felt like it had happened a lifetime ago, not just a couple of days. But it had happened, and he’d better think about it. Or, more specifically, what happened at the end of it.
Now that all the puzzle pieces had clicked into place, he could see it clearly. How that bastard’s words during the mugging had been the spark, and the Christmas song the gasoline. Together, they’d ignited the memory she’d buried so deep she hadn’t even realized it was missing.
Everything had aligned perfectly for her to break free.
That was good. Great, actually.
He sloshed out of the tub like a sea monster with zero shame, leaving a glistening trail of water across the floor as he made a beeline for the freezer. He retrieved the carton of rocky road ice cream, a spoon, and padded back, dripping and smug, to his bubbling kingdom of indulgence.
Yes, unlocking her memory was fantastic.
But.
Why was he in there? It hadn’t been a nightmare, only a memory dressed up as one. He’d been a mere spectator. Because it was not a nightmare.
So that was the first question with no answer.
That led to the second, possibly bigger problem: what had happened at the end? When the pain and the heartbreak and the physical hit had shattered her? Something that was neither nightmare nor memory, but somehow both, had slithered off, fast. So fast, he’d have missed it if not for the residual feeling of wrongness.
He eased the now-empty box of ice cream onto the floor.
Was the next impossible thing about to happen? Would he be ready? Because he had a very uncomfortable hunch that this thing was bigger than Daphne’s trauma and its resolution.
He closed his eyes, going back to that moment over and over again, as if he could catch a detail that would explain more. No luck. When he opened his eyes, the clock was saying it was time to get ready and go to her.
Damn, if it didn’t make him happy.
He got out of the tub, and in a blink, he was dry, ready, and reformed in front of the library.
It was dark, as expected for the end of December, but... He looked around. Sniffed the freezing air and opened his power.
Alright.
Something was up.
Awareness crawled up his spine, made him want to run inside, grab Daphne, and take her anywhere but there.
