“Who knew we had anything in common, huh, Trifecta?” The tangible blame, coupled with the hateful nickname, eased my conscience.
I took my gun back and walked out, rewarding his malicious baiting with glacial silence.
“I was just stating a fact.” He could choke on his facts.
“I think the inn has a basement. Good thing you still have that nifty pen,” I called out before shutting myself inside the first bedroom.
I leaned against the door, half expecting him to grumble something about my family being a bunch of murderers before stomping down the stairs and out the inn.
Oh, Skies, what if he returned to the train and left me alone in this world?
I rushed to the window, but it gave onto a side alley, not the front door. I squeezed the gun, vanquishing its solid shape.
I didn’t need Remo. I had dustandrunning water. And pie.
I’d survive just fine on my own.
17
The Bathrobe
Idrew myself a bath, kicked off my boots, then sank into it fully clothed. Dried blood and mud darkened the water, but I didn’t drain it. I soaked inside without moving until the water became unpleasantly cold, then I sat up and scrubbed my suit with a handful of soap, before peeling it off my bruised body, being extra careful with my tender arm. How I missed the digital application and removal of clothing. So much simpler than getting dressed and undressed.
Casting a longing glance at my Infinity, wishing it would reactivate, I slung my suit over the shower rail. Droplets beaded out of the black fabric, plinking into the muddy bath. Even though I worried about draining the pipes, my long hair didn’t feel clean yet, and neither did my body, so I turned on the shower head and lathered myself from top to bottom a second time.
My skin didn’t morph into tiny copper scales here; didn’t even glimmer like it did on Earth. How very strange . . .
What sort of dark magic blocked out fae powers? And could this magic be wielded in Neverra? I hoped that was impossible, because it would destroy our world.
When my black hair slid through my fingers like silk, I turned the tap off and stepped onto the cold tiles. For some reason, probably because the inn’s amenities had made me forget where I was, I expected the water to steam off my skin and hair. Instead, a chill skittered over my fire-less body, and I shivered. I searched the bathroom for a towel, but all the racks were bare.Damn.I opened the door and tracked wet footprints over the white tiles and then over the navy runner.
Just as I remembered I could fashion a towel from mywita, I spotted a bathrobe laid out on my bed.Bingo. It hit me that the spun-cotton garment hadn’t been there before, which meant someone had come inside the room while I was in the tub. Even though I sort of hoped it was the pie-baking person, I imagined it was Remo. I imagined the fluffy robe was his version of an olive branch, and my heart softened a little.
I tied the robe around my body, then worked on unsnarling my hair with awita-made comb. Once that was accomplished, I banished my dust back into its tracks and headed toward the door to find the mercurial fae.
“Remo?” I called out.
The bedroom doors were all ajar except the one across from mine. I crossed the hallway and knocked. No answer came. I stuck my ear against the wood to make out any sounds. When I didn’t hear anything, not the creak of a floorboard or the groan of a mattress spring, my pulse ratcheted up.
What if he’d left the inn after dropping off the robe? Or what ifhehadn’t dropped it off and itwasthe pie person?
Instead of knocking a second time, I twisted the doorknob and barged in. There, lounging atop the bed, one arm slung under his head was a bootless, shirtless, and pantless Remo. He had a towel wrapped around his waist that covered just enough for me to stick around.
“Didn’t you hear me knock?”
He was reading a book with a faded cover. The title readKiss the Girlseven though it didn’t look remotely like a romance considering the man on the cover held a rifle. “I did.” He flipped a page.
“Then why didn’t you answer?”
“Maybe because I wanted to be left alone.”
Oh. I shifted on the rug, which was navy like the one in my bedroom. “Well, I just wanted to say thank you for the robe.”
He finally looked away from his book. “The robe?”
I pointed to it.
His frown deepened. “Why are you thanking me for it?”
