“Worse. It’s an eternal bond.” His lips twisted in a half smile, eyes sad.
“My father is going to kill me… And you. Both of us. We need to leave this plane. Like, now.” My heart raced as I pushed the covers away and scrambled to the edge of the bed, losing myfooting as my wrist slipped into the mattress…which I suddenly realized was two twin mattresses pushed together.
Vertically.
Gre reached out and grabbed my upper arms, stilling me. “There’s a phone on the nightstand. I’ve called him twice already. He sort of demanded I do the rite. I gave you a choice. I’ve never seen a demon hope like that before.”
I stilled. “He what?”
Gre explained, starting from him being taken to the station, the magic he wrought, the sacrifice, and the choice he made.
“Alright.” I took a deep breath. “One question before I call my father.”
He stared at me openly, lips parted. “You’ve been out for about ten hours.”
“Okay, good to know. We’ve got thirty-eight hours to knock boots.” My shadow rose up against a wall and made some very pointed gestures and hip thrusts, grinning maniacally. Strangely, though, Gre’s shadow, while composed and in place, offered Ausmius a high five. “Two questions…”
“Anything.” Gre released my arms and placed a hand on my thigh.
“First. Why do you have two twin beds toe to toe?”
He pointed at his head. “Giraffe.”
“You know, I feel silly for asking.” I glanced at our shadows once more only to find Ausmius molesting Gre’s giraffe-headed shadow. Gre wasn’t even in his shifted form. “Okay, three questions. Are our shadows both doing daeva shit?”
“Part and parcel of our union. Ausmius means well, I assume.” Gre shrugged.
“Well, fuck.” I took a deep breath. “Last question. Bathroom?”
He nodded once and gestured toward a door at the other end of the room, where a peaceful soft yellow light glowed.
I stood and made my way toward the door and cringed when my stomach growled, my shadow streaking up a wall and mocking it with a toothy snarl.
“How do you feel about Italian?” Gre offered me a hopeful smile.
“Probably my favorite food in the entirety of this plane.” I smiled. “You can never go wrong with pasta or garlic.”
“Well then, at least we’ll be fantastic roommates.”
I dodged my way into the bathroom and took care of business. “Mind if I take a shower?”
“Towels are in the standing cupboard.” I glanced around and found a cabinet with several drawers standing tall. I opened sticky-painted doors to find an odd assortment of towels, most of which were of a softness only gained by time and use, ends tattier than a wind-whipped flag. I pulled a rag and towel free.
“Pleasant damnations,” I said with a smile and stripped from too-big pajamas to hop into a claw-footed tub with a sad plastic curtain that had traces of magic from many cleaning spells. I approved of the use of magic before turning the tub water on and adjusting the temperature to my liking. I pulled a knob, and the shower jumped, giving just enough warning for me to dodge the first wave of ice-cold water.
I kept it quick, scrubbing myself from head to toe with a bar of soap in an unnaturally green shade. I made use of his shampoo and conditioner before calling it good and rinsing down. I ran a perfunctory clawed hand through my hair to keep most of the tangles at bay.
By the time I got out of the shower and strode out, a worn towel wrapped neatly around my waist, Gre was gone and the scent of garlic, tomatoes, and Parmesan wafted from up a set of stairs. I followed the scent, feet bare, treading on soft and cared-for wood floors, the gentle creak of them reassuring. “Gre?”
The poltergeist swept around the room, a vapor of basil-scented miasma following his every move. “I hope you enjoy minestrone. It is good for healing.”
I rested a hand on my stomach and nodded as my shadow spread about noisily, slipping between cracks and crannies, nooks too. I was so hungry I ached. “Pasta.”
“I added roast chicken to it to make it heartier. It’s not traditional, but Mister Gre assures me protein will aid your recovery.” The ghost smiled at me in a wispy, morose sort of way before lifting a ladle and inviting Gre over to taste. And he did, leaning in for a sniff and sip. After, the ladle floated to the sink and plopped into soapy water.
At least I won’t be an omega expected to do dishes and cook all day.I nodded in thanks and took a seat at the table, my legs weak beneath me. “Food. Praise the pit.”
Gre smiled when I spoke, the corner of his lips upturned. I adored the way his eyes sparkled, full of mischief and order in chaos. Mages could be such unorganized slobs, but Gre pleased me. Gre also pleased me physically. The fresh crease of starched linen of his shirt stood out, a pristine eggplant that didn’t quite complement his pallor, but competed with it. Still, it was neat and tidy. “Please, eat and be well.”
