We observed in silence as he finished the paper, folded it up, then got up with his empty mug to go to the kitchen. We followed, but at once encountered an issue.
It was a small galley kitchen with only enough space for two people to pass each other. The door opened with a view of the refrigerator, but the rest of the space couldn’t be seen. If we wanted to keep a close eye on him and how the wraith got to him, we couldn’t do so from this vantage.
While I didn’t have to fear bumping into anybody, Kessian was another story. A fact made abundantly clear when his hip bumped the kitchen towel hung on a hook off one end of the counter, and it dropped to the floor.
We backed out of the doorway as Grandad turned to appraise it. Anyone else might have assumed they’d brushed it by accident, but he stared out into the hallway with a heavy, scrutinizing eye.
After years of investigating wild magic, wraiths, and a ravenous river, he didn’t trust these things were just a trick of the light or a draft.
After a moment of waiting, he seemed satisfied it was nothing to worry over, and returned to his business in the kitchen. He pulled a roasting joint from the fridge, then vanished out of sight.
“We can’t see much from here,” Kessian said.
“We could hide in the pantry. The doors are slatted enough to see through.”
“What if he needs something from in there?”
“He always gathered everything he’d need and laid it out on the countertop before he started cooking. We should be safe.”
We stuck our heads through the door. Grandad was collecting all the spices, duck fat, and potatoes he’d need for his roast. Once he’d finished and started greasing the chicken, we snuck by him. While his back was turned, we slipped silently into the pantry.
The inside was cramped and smelled potently of herbs and spices. Kessian leaned his cane against a shelf and, to keep from bumping anything, drew me in close with both arms around my waist.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Oh. Maybe he wasn’t hugging me just to keep us from bumping into things. “Do I seem not okay?”
“You seem like you’re only half here. Operating on autopilot.”
Our purpose here didn’t inspire intimacy, but being read so well made an ember in my chest glow. It reminded me of the moment at the wedding when Mum misread me, and Kessian had played translator, untangling the gnarled knots in nine years of familial tension.
“Grandad used to make us a roast every Sunday. Used to always give me the chicken oysters,” I said.
“Must have been hard missing them when you first left.”
“Every Sunday, I knew they’d be gathering around his table without me. I wondered who got the oysters instead.”
“Are all your memories of him good?”
“Mostly. That first memory, with Mum and Marlowe … I’ve never heard him talk like that.”
Kessian leaned his ear against my chest. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
“Part of it.” I inhaled the damp smell of Kessian’s hair, citrus shampoo mixed with strid water. “I guess I’m trying not to think of what might happen if we fail.”
“So let’s not fail.”
“Trying. We can time travel here, but it still feels like time is working against us.”
Kessian warily consulted the pocket watch. He frowned, staring at it. “That can’t be right.”
My stomach dropped. “How much time have we lost?”
He turned the clock to face me. I struggled to register the total lack of movement. After a long delay, the second hand ticked forward. Once.I kept watching, and it felt as though minutes passed before the second hand progressed a second further.
“None,” Kessian answered. “We’ve lost almost no time at all. It’s like we’ve entered a pocket dimension where time moves slow rather than fast.”
I wondered how that could be, but whatever the reason, relief settled over us both. It was unlikely to be more than a temporary reprieve, but we’d had so little time to breathe. The pantry was a sanctuary by comparison, with the comforting kitchen noises, the smell of spices, and Kessian’s hands warming two brands against my ribs. Grandad sipped from a cup of tea he had on the go while chopping vegetables. I could almost forget this was the day he died.
