Friends With The Monsters

by Albany Walker

  “Why bother?” I ask slowly.

  “Why bother what?” Calix eyes me.

  “Any of this.” I wave my hand in their direction and look down my nose at them. “Is it just the competition of it all?”

  Calix lifts his arms wide and shakes his head. “I can’t even fault you for thinking that. It’s not like any of us have behaved as a mate should.”

  I open my mouth, but find I don’t have any words. I didn’t expect him to agree with me or validate my thoughts.

  I look at the three of them standing before me. They couldn’t be more different. Calix is somewhat relaxed, with his hands loose by his sides. Grim is stoic, I would need a hammer and chisel to break past his hard exterior, and then there’s Gunnar. His arms are crossed over his puffed-out chest, and he’s separated himself from the others by space and with his attitude.

  “It would never work. You understand that, right? Not long-term. I’m just trying to make it easier for all of us,” I confess. “What do you see happening with all of us living here like one big family?” I snort, even though I secretly would love something like that. I wouldn’t have to give up my friends, wouldn’t have to worry about one of them finding Uncle or Aeson visiting me.

  “It might be a little early to discuss the future now, but eventually, something like that,” Calix hedges.

  “This is ridiculous.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t even know why I’m listening to you.”

  Grim reaches for my arm when I turn to walk away from them. I look down at his hand, then up at him. He releases his hold immediately. “No one said it was going to be easy, but it’s got to be better than not even trying.” His eyes beseech me.

  My forced resolve wavers, but then I look up at Gunnar and see his angry scowl. “Don’t you see? This only ends in heartache. And I’m not sure I could survive it.

  I do walk away then. I need to make building my proverbial walls my number one priority. They seem to crash through them like they’re crumbling a sandcastle. “We’re not going anywhere, Dami, so get used to it.”

  “Shut up,” Gunnar growls at Calix. I sense a shift and I slow my steps. “You can put that away, Death, it doesn’t scare me.”

  “It should, Berserker. I’m older than the sands of time, yet you try my patience.” Grim’s voice is layered with many others. “Make her doubt us again, and I will seek her forgiveness after slaying you, rather than ask her permission.”

  That shouldn’t send a tingle of heat and excitement through me, but I’ll be damned because it does. I don’t want him to kill Gunnar; that would actually make me mad—sad? I’m not sure, but I like that Grim is willing to do it for me. Good thing I’ve accepted I’m a twisted bitch; otherwise, that thought might just bother me if I hadn’t.

  I’ve been moping in my room for the last hour, and I’m not sure how I can come out without looking like an asshole. They’re still here, I can hear them moving around the house. It’s so stupid, but a big part of me is happy they didn’t leave. Maybe I’m the one with the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old.

  This is probably the first time in my life I wish I needed to take a shit. It’s not like I have the excuse to go out there because I’m hungry. I stand up, but sit right back down on my bed again. If I go out there, I’ll seem weak.

  I stand up again. Sitting in here makes me seem like I’m hiding, and that seems weak, too. I’m no closer to a decision now than I was a half hour ago.

  Pounding on my door interrupts my warring thoughts. “What?” I shout through the closed door, angry I was startled, and still kind of pissy from earlier.

  A throat clears and Gunnar’s smooth voice comes through the door clearly. “We’re going to discuss the witches. Would you care to join us?”

  Now there’s an idea: a safe, neutral topic. I take a few steps closer to the door. “Shut up,” Gunnar hisses to one of the other guys. “Damiana?” he calls louder.

  I feel as if this is a trick to get me out of my room, but that’s exactly what I want, too, so I’ll pretend to fall for it.

  “Yeah…I’ll be down in a minute,” I yell back.

  “See, was that so hard?” Calix goads Gunnar.

  “It would be a lot easier if you would leave me the hell alone,” Gunnar grates. I snicker at their bickering. I wonder where Grim is and what happened after hearing him threaten Gunnar.

  When I walk into the hall, I almost hiss like a cat. All the drapes are still open, and the sun is blaring through the windows. “Stupid ball of fire,” I curse, covering my eyes with my hand and dragging the heavy curtains closed as I pass them.

  I make my way to the TV room. The guys are so damn loud that they’re easy enough to find. I plop down on one of the chairs, pretending we didn’t have a heavy argument a little while ago. If I ignore it, maybe they will too.

  Grim is on the couch, and he looks slightly out of place, as if he doesn’t really know how to relax. He’s holding his back stiffly instead of leaning into the cushion. Calix comes in from the kitchen with a big bowl of something in his hands. I take a whiff of the air, and yummy, buttery goodness hits my nose, except I never think that butter smells like yummy goodness.

  “What have you got?” I push myself up in the chair, trying to see inside the bowl.

  “Popcorn.” Calix tips the bowl toward me, letting me see, and a fluffy, yellow kernel slips over the edge of the bowl. He reaches out with his other hand and snags it right out of the air before popping it into his mouth. I eye him and his catlike reflexes.

  “Do you want some?” he asks, sounding curious. Popcorn has always been on my list of temptations, but just thinking about how violently ill I get when I eat has always been enough of a deterrent. Plus, I never kept it in the house.

  “What’s it taste like?” I lick my lips.

  “You’ve never tried it?” I shake my head in denial. Why is my mouth watering?

  “Do you want to?” Calix comes a little closer. He digs into the bowl, searching, and then he brings out one kernel, pinched between his fingers.

  “I don’t want to get sick.” I eye him and the popcorn. One bite probably wouldn’t hurt, right?

  Calix pulls his hand back. “You would get sick?” His brow furrows.

  I swallow and my stomach lets out a loud gurgle. “Let me try it.”

  “I don’t want you to get sick.” Calix looks around to see if anyone else has any input. Grim edges forward on his seat, his attention locked on me.

  “I’ll be fine—come on.” I roll my wrist, eager for him to let me have it now that I’ve decided I’m going to try it.

  Calix closes the distance between us, and he lifts his hand as if he’s planning to feed it to me. I lean forward a bit and open my mouth. The moment it hits my tongue, the saltiness is almost overwhelming. The texture is a little strange too. It almost melts, but it’s kind of crunchy at the same time.

  “I can’t tell from your face if you like it or not.” Calix moves over a little, and I see Grim and Gunnar both watching me.

  “I’m not sure…it’s weird. Nothing like I expected. So salty.” I scrunch up my face a little and stick out my tongue.

  “Do you want to try some more?” Calix offers.

  “I don’t think I do,” I mutter. I’m a little disappointed, to be honest. I feel like it was a big letdown after all these years of wanting it.

  Calix slinks over to the couch and lounges into the opposite corner from Grim. I look over at Gunnar. He has one palm against the wall and is leaning forward, looking down at his phone in his hand.

  “I thought we were supposed to be talking about what happened with the witches,” I snap. I don’t like that his phone has his attention, and that’s just kind of fucked up. Gunnar jerks his head up and stands upright, his phone forgotten in his hand.

  “Give me a breakdown of how the coven works,” Calix orders, while crunching through a handful of popcorn. “Is there a hierarchy like with animals?”

  Gunnar lumbers over and
takes a seat in the remaining chair. “Vanessa has been the High Priestess for a little over twenty years. She runs the coven.”

  “Twenty years?” I question dubiously. “She barely looks older than twenty.”

  “I assure you, she is much older than twenty. Try closer to sixty.” Gunnar leans back in the chair.

  “I’d like to know her skin care routine.” I think I hate her a little more now.

  “I don’t think you’d be willing to follow her procedure. Besides, it’s not like you’re aging anymore either,” Gunnar supplies.

  “Wait.” I scoot forward in my chair. “Are you saying I’m not going to age?” I couldn’t have heard him right.

  “You haven’t noticed?” Gunnar’s eyes travel over me. I reach my hand up to my face and trail my fingers over my cheek. I look over at Grim and Calix to see their reaction to Gunnar’s words.

  “That can’t be right,” I whisper.

  “Are you really that surprised?” Gunnar asks, his brow furrowed. “Have any of your baddies aged over the years? Why would you think you would be any different?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even really understand what I am.” My voice grows shrill.

  “Damiana, why are you upset?” Grim stands up and takes a few steps closer to me. “I told you I tethered your soul to your body.”

  “I not upset. I’m freaked the fuck out. I’m going to be stuck like this forever?”

  “You would rather die slowly?” Grim crouches in front of me.

  I think about his words. Would I? Why hadn’t I thought about this before? I mean, I know that things like Dare’s nettles never hurt me—nothing ever really has—so why didn’t I already come to the same conclusion?

  I know why: if I had to think about living like this forever, with only my monsters to keep me company when they had the time to stop and visit me, I would slowly go insane. I would rather age and die if that’s all I had to look forward to.

  Grim places his hand on my leg just above my knee. “How long are we talking about here, surely not forever?” I inquire, staring into Grim’s eyes.

  “Nothing is forever, Damiana. At some point, we will all cease to exist.”

  “Exactly how old are you?” I examine Grim’s features. His gray eyes are calm, lacking the embers that sometimes burn there. I notice a slight bit of stubble beginning to darken his jaw, and it somehow makes him more human. His beauty is almost too ethereal at times.

  “Old.” Grim’s voice sounds tired.

  “How did you become my guardian?” I look up at Gunnar and Calix to include them. “How did all of you end up with me?”

  Grim drags his hand off my leg and rises from his crouched position. It sets off little alarm bells inside of me. Calix is suddenly busy digging through his diminishing bowl of popcorn, while Gunnar shifts uncomfortably on the chair. “Well?” I prompt. “Anyone going to answer me?”

  “I can answer, but I’m not sure you’ll be satisfied,” Grim reveals cryptically.

  I turn my body toward his, giving him my full attention. When he doesn’t begin speaking right away, I clear my throat, encouraging him to continue.

  “I was drawn to you,” Grim admits, though he sounds reluctant.

  “Explain please,” I demand.

  “I’m not sure I can. I’ve never been a guardian before,” Grim confesses.

  “I have.” Calix sighs. I watch as he sets the bowl aside, drops his elbows on his knees, and folds his hands together. “I’m a born shifter. There’s not very many of us—a few dragons or a kitsune here and there. I’ve accepted the responsibility of guardianship over newly born shifters a few times over the years.” He pauses and looks up at me.

  I sense a ‘but’ coming. “It’s always been pretty straight forward before. There’s really not too much involved until the shifter reaches maturity. But it was different with you from the very beginning.”

  There’s that ‘but’ I was expecting. I don’t have time to ask why I was different before he continues, explaining, “With the others, I was just doing it to pass the time. I could have walked away and not thought twice about it. I did it to make sure my job was easier down the line, really. If I teach them from the beginning, I don’t have to worry too much about them later in life.” Calix relaxes against the sofa, his arms spread over the back. I nod my head, seeing the wisdom in that. “I couldn’t have walked away from you, not even from the very beginning. I didn’t realize how different you were, but I should have suspected something.”

  “I’d never accepted a guardianship before you,” Gunnar admits.

  “Who passes out these ‘invitations’ to be guardians?” I wrap the word in air quotes, trying to understand this whole process.

  “A Cherub visited me.” Grim watches me as if he’s waiting for a reaction.

  “A cherub, like a baby angel?”

  “Not quite. A real Cherub isn’t at all like man has portrayed them.” Grim’s lips curl into a tiny smile.

  “Freaky-ass things, four faces.” Calix gives off an exaggerated shudder.

  “Right,” Grim agrees. “I hadn’t been visited by a Holy One in…ever, I don’t think.” He looks past me, into open space.

  “You’re making me think that’s unusual. Was it the same for all of you?” I look around and watch Gunnar and Calix nod in agreement.

  “I’d never been asked by an angel,” Calix adds. “I knew there must have been an important reason I was asked. It was only after I accepted that I found out they had been asked and accepted the position as well.” He lifts his hand and indicates the other guys.

  “Same for me,” Gunnar supplies.

  This is the first time, I think, that we’ve all sat down and had a conversation that hasn’t ended with yelling or one of us having a fit. Most of the time it’s me, but whatever.

  “As the Nemean mentioned before, we normally wouldn’t have come into your life until you were much older. But I knew, the moment you were born, that my task had changed.” Grim brings his attention back to me.

  “Well, aren’t I just special?” I mock slightly, feeling a little strange about the whole thing. Why did a freaking angel push me on them? And if angels are real, why the hell didn’t any of them visit me? An angel might have been a tad more comforting than a Yowie when I was a child. But then again, from the way Calix reacted to the Cherub, maybe not.

  I’m not really sure learning how they came into my life is helpful, but I did want to know.

  A heavy silence falls over our group. It’s not like any of them are usually talkative, except Calix occasionally, but it still feels too oppressive.

  “Weren’t we supposed to be talking about Vanessa?” I pretend like I’m not the one who brought this entire topic up.

  Chapter 19

  “She’s been the High Priestess for the past twenty years,” I remind Gunnar, so he knows where he left off, just in case he forgot.

  “Yes, and I’ve been overseeing her coven in particular for the past ten years.” Gunnar resettles himself into the chair.

  “What exactly do you oversee, and how come I never saw you before if you’ve been around for ten years?” I ask a little skeptically.

  “We had a deal, remember?” Gunnar’s voice has an edge as he glares over at Grim and Calix on the sofa. “I wasn’t allowed to be in contact with you.”

  Calix lets out a loud snort. “Yeah, you just sneaked into her house and left rocks all over the place.”

  “At least I didn’t try to trick her into thinking I was just a human. And they’re not just rocks,” Gunnar mutters defensively.

  “Stop,” Grim orders. “There is no point in arguing about what was—we are here now.” He levels a scowl at Gunnar. “We need to figure out what’s happening with the witches. There’s no way she should be as powerful as she is and not show the evidence of her magic.”

  Gunnar’s nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. “Over the last few years, the coven has doubled in size. I didn’t only stay here becau
se of Damiana.” He pauses, as if to prove a point. “I also wanted to keep a closer eye on Vanessa and the club she’s running. She’s always had new seekers joining, but not at this rate.”

  “She must be siphoning the magic some way. Her followers weren’t leaking magic the way she was, but they showed all the markers of magic usage, dark magic,” Grim reasons.

  “And you think it has something to do with the Charmed dead bodies you’ve found?”

  Gunnar nods a little, his eyes going unfocused.

  “I’m concerned about the number of bodies, and where the rest of the power is. Even the coven leader wasn’t holding that much magic. She’s either sharing it with someone else, or someone else is sharing it with her.”

  “Fuck!” Gunnar punches the top of the chair arm and I hear a crack.

  “Hey, knock that shit off,” I scold him. When Gunnar lifts his fist up from the chair, the arm has a huge dent, and a thick piece of wood is jutting out like a broken bone through the fabric. “Really?” I blink at him, expressionless.

  “I’ll fix it,” he offers, trying to poke the wood back through the rip.

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t bother, you can replace it.”

  “I will.” Gunnar is still trying to piece the arm back together.

  “Why are you so upset anyway? If Vanessa is breaking the rules, just kill her and be done with it.”

  “I would be happy to, but if I kill her without evidence, then we would have a war with the witches on our hands.” Gunnar gives up trying to fix the chair and a piece of wood crashes to the ground, but everyone pretends to ignore it.

  “I don’t really see a problem with that, either. If they’re causing trouble, get rid of the whole lot of them. If they’re killing monsters, they deserve it.”

  “If we did that, it would make all the other factions uneasy. They would think we were trying to take over, and I just don’t want to deal with that headache.” Gunnar circles his fingers over his temple.

  “Well, what are we going to do about it then?” I look at all three of them.