As the coin spun down, he remarked, “It's the gift that keeps on giving.”
Edith covered her mouth to stifle her laughter if only so it wouldn't encourage him, but Isaac was far from done.
Just as she'd finished dressing, he remarked, “Hey, check this out.”
From a nearby rack, he grabbed a black bra with red cups that were obviously meant for a well endowed woman, and Edith hid her grin in order to properly chastise him.
“You're being a child.”
“Better than being an adult,” he retorted, placing the cups over his eyes. “So do I look like the king of the insect people, or what?”
The red cups definitely looked like bug eyes, and Edith couldn't stop herself from laughing this time. “Do you do this every time you go shopping?”
“Maybe,” he answered with a grin, tossing the bra over his shoulder when she exited the dressing room.
And his grin faded.
While Isaac was out obtaining money for the garments, Edith had decided on a specific outfit she'd hoped might get his attention, and if his stare was any indication, she'd done a damned good job. It wasn't exactly revealing, and certainly nothing she wouldn't normally wear—a black top, plaid skirt, thigh high stockings, and boots with a long coat.
But the shirt was tight, and the skirt was short enough to show off a little thigh above her stockings.
As she stuffed her old clothes into a bag from the boutique, Isaac pinned her with an intense, fiery gaze, sending a shiver through her body. But she pretended not to notice while pulling on a knitted beret, then stood and waved him along to the door with a hidden sense of feminine satisfaction.
Perhaps she was a glutton, but after their encounter with the harpies, she wanted to see if impressing the demon would always feel so good, and so far?
She'd say this much; it wasn't disappointing.
What would it be like to capture Isaac's attention in such a manner everyday? To get those looks without having to ask for an opinion? To Edith, it was one of the most attractive parts of considering a relationship with him—he'd never ignore her, or just fail to notice.
But the more she thought about the prospect, the more she had to wonder just how well they'd actually get along. Partnering up on her Calling had worked better than she'd initially thought despite a few hitches, but a relationship?
Without knowing more about him, it was hard to say, and she only had herself to blame for her lack of information—shyly avoiding him over the past week hadn't offered many answers.
So perhaps now was a good time to ask questions, and as they walked down the street, she started with, “Where do you live, anyway?”
“Nowhere really. I rent a couple of places, and I have a few storage spaces for some junk I've collected, but I don't have a home.”
“What kinds of places do you rent, then?”
“Just rooms put up by private homeowners. Ulric and Charlotte thought you'd appreciate it if I found a nice place to stay, but I never tried.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of reasons,” Isaac began, “but mainly, you weren't here to give an opinion, and I'm not gonna buy a place just for you to end up hating it and have to sell. Besides, I knew you'd be traveling on your Calling anyway.”
“So … I don't wanna sound presumptuous, but does that mean you've basically planned your entire future around me? Or us, whatever.”
“Would it bother you if I said yes?”
“I'm not sure,” she answered honestly. “I've had time to adapt to the idea of how immortals bond, and I know why you would, but I guess it's just weird to think about when we still don't know each other very well.”
“Yeah, but you're asking questions because you're curious about me, right?”
“I guess I am,” Edith conceded, trying to ignore how awkward she felt admitting that to him, and searched for something else to say while casting her gaze around the snow-dusted streets of Belfast. “What are your interests anyway? I mean other than helping me with my Calling, you've gotta have goals.”
“Sure. I wanna make you happy, and help you usurp Rothario when the time comes.”
Edith blinked, pointing out, “Isaac, you're several centuries old.”
“So?”
“So your interests can't all revolve around me.”
“Why not?” he asked, idly pointing out, “I don't remember anything prior to the Pit, and there weren't a lot of places in that shithole to sit and quilt a fucking afghan or practice baking cakes if you know what I mean.”
“Okay, point taken,” Edith conceded. “But it's been two hundred years since you came to Terra, so what about that?”
He only took a brief moment to think over his answer before stating, “After I came here, it took me a while just to learn how to trust, and when I finally did, I spent most of my time helping Ulric and his family on jobs, dodging Rothario's bitches, and having fun. Never really wanted much more out of life than that until you came along.”
Edith watched him quietly, and in taking his statements to heart, she realized his simple interests actually weren't so unbelievable despite his age. Isaac had suffered in the Pit, and until he was freed from it, he probably had no idea what it meant to enjoy life. He'd already admitted that surviving there seemed pointless when nothing ever changed, so his current interests were all about living in the moment and discovering what the world around him actually had to offer.
And she truly admired him for it, suggesting with a smile lifting the corners of her mouth, “Saying the world's your oyster?”
“If it is, you're the pearl at the center,” he remarked, their gazes locking for a brief moment—and they simultaneously snorted in amusement.
“That was so corny,” Edith snickered.
“Closest to fucking poetry I've ever gotten.”
Grinning, she shook her head, coming to a stop in their walk at the middle of a small square. At the north end stood an old church with scaffolding erected on each side of its gothic clock tower, and a crane stood tall in the distance, suggesting the area was undergoing reconstruction.
But it didn't take away from the view, and even after seeing the beauty of Mystikkar, she was impressed by the sights the city had to offer.
As if he'd noticed where her gaze was centered, Isaac stepped in behind her and asked, “Wanna find out how nice the view is from the top of that dome?”
“Uh … ,” Edith looked back at him and cringed. “I'm actually a little afraid of heights. I mean, if there's solid ground, I'm good. But that dome's pretty … round.”
Still, Isaac lifted a hand. “Don't trust me?”
Edith wasn't prepared to say yes, but there was a strange lack of worry over her well being at the thought of standing on that clock tower with Isaac in particular. So she gave in—though not without warning.
“Alright, but if you drop me, I'm taking it out of your ass.”
“Don't think I wouldn't enjoy it,” he grinned, winding an arm around her back to teleport up onto the tower.
Edith closed her eyes in the process, then looked to see Isaac first, standing with one arm still around her while the other hand was grasping the rod jutting up out of the dome. And beyond him?
It's beautiful.
The view was vast, the river flowing through the city surrounded by buildings dotted with tiny lights, and the mountains lining the sea beyond were breathtaking. It could've only been better if the snowfall wasn't strengthening and obscuring her vision, but Edith adored it nonetheless.
After several moments of staring, she finally realized Isaac was watching her, and locked her gaze on his to ask, “What?”
“You're fucking gorgeous.”
The inflection in his voice was unassuming, as if he wasn't aiming to gain any favors by complimenting her, and simply wanted, or perhaps needed to say what he thought.
Still, Edith's throat went dry. Any movie or book about fantasy would've declared that moment standing so high above the city to be perf
ect for a kiss, and she certainly wouldn't have objected. But in this situation, she'd have to be the one to kiss him, and wasn't sure he wouldn't start acting smug because of it.
So instead, she swatted his arm. “Shut it, Isaac.”
The response made him grin, but only momentarily before he cussed, “Shit, I forgot something.”
“What?”
Because his hands were currently occupied, he directed, “Reach in my pocket. I got you something from the Spire.”
Edith blinked, suddenly recalling how he'd so questionably disappeared there, then returned looking deviously pleased. Apparently, he'd acquired a gift for her, and she did as directed, curiously reaching into his pocket to extract a small, elegant silver box. Ornate carvings were etched on the lid and sides with various latches that could be flipped to allow some sections to move.
A puzzle box.
Edith's heart melted. “They sell these at the Spire?”
“Yeah, there's a warlock who crafts them and lets you pick out a gift to lock inside. It's just a piece of candy though, nothing special, but I thought you'd like to try opening it anyway.”
“No, it is special,” she countered, admiring the intricately designed box before stuffing it into her own pocket, then cast him a warm smile. “Thank you.”
As if her gratitude had shaken him, Isaac's expression faded to what she could only describe as irritated longing. “And now all I can think about is kissing you.”
Appreciative of his thoughtfulness, Edith leaned up to do it for him. But a freezing gust of wind picked up without warning, blowing the knitted beret right off her head just before their lips could meet.
Clutching Isaac more tightly, she hid her cheek against his shoulder for cover while stating, “Okay, it's getting too windy. We should … oh my god, what's that smell?”
Randomly, the gusting wind had brought the horrid stench of decay to her nostrils, and Edith looked up to ask Isaac if he smelled it as well.
But she stopped in noticing his expression was now nothing short of murderous.
“Isaac?”
Suddenly, he looked sideways toward several buildings behind them, and Edith craned her head in that direction. But sadly, she couldn't see a damned thing because her view was being blocked by a large metal I-beam flying through the air toward them.
Wait, what?
Before Edith could figure out what she was even seeing, the heavy beam mercilessly plowed into the clock tower's dome, breaking away the mortar and brick with a cacophony of screeches and groans. By that time, Isaac had already teleported them safely into the square below, and they both looked up to watch as the beam that had decimated a portion of the dome began falling to the ground with a good bit of debris.
“What the fuck was that?”
Growling, Isaac answered, “The Brute.”
“What do you mean the Brute?”
Edith knew what a brute was—the necromancer version of a sentinel—and wondered if this might be the same thing. But Isaac didn't elaborate, and instead, directed on a more serious tone of voice than she'd heard him use yet, “Just get the fuck out of here, Edith. Teleport to Ulric's. Now.”
This had to be serious if he was actually telling her to use magic to escape, but she refused. “No fucking way, I'm not leaving you here to—”
Edith stopped when an interplanar vortex opened about thirty feet from where they stood, just in front of the steps leading up to the church's entrance. From the swirling portal stepped a creature that had to be at least eight feet tall, towering over the hood of a sedan that was parked between them.
It was definitely a brute, and his size made Edith think this one was constructed from the corpse of an ogre, meaning it was physically powerful. Furthermore, he wore black armor that was worn, with a closed helmet masking his face, clawed gauntlets on each hand, and spikes jutting from the pauldrons. Starting to see why Isaac told me to go.
Proving her assumption correct, the Brute suddenly rushed toward the sedan, grabbing and hoisting the entire vehicle off the ground with a single push. As a result, the car flew up into the air—and directly toward them.
Before Edith could react, Isaac showed off his own strength by immediately teleporting toward the vehicle. Meeting it in midair, he rammed his boots into the roof so hard the windows shattered into a million pieces, sending it flying back toward their assailant.
The car impacted the exact spot where the Brute was standing. But the monster had drawn a large broadsword that glowed green with some questionable type of energy, and used it to cut the sedan through the middle, successfully preventing it from crushing him.
As the two halves of the car flew away, skidding across the pavement to a stop, Isaac landed about fifteen feet from where Edith stood. Simultaneously, the Brute took off in their direction, his weapon held in readiness to attack as his heavy footfalls grew louder and louder.
Yet Isaac took a brief look back as if wanting to make certain Edith had escaped the brawl—and the moment he noticed she hadn't left him behind, his eyes seemed to spark with anger.
But with no time to spare, he started running toward her. It was questionable why he didn't simply teleport over, but even more strangely, he was removing his jacket on the way.
Whatever his reasons, with the Brute closing in, Edith lifted her hands to use a bit of defensive magic.
Promptly, Isaac yelled, “Don't!”
The command confused her long enough to allow him to reach her, shoving his jacket into her arms with the command, “Hold onto this for me.”
The Brute was right on top of them by that point. Still, as Isaac quickly wrapped his arms around her, he took the time to warn, “Just know this isn't gonna be pretty,” and teleported them both out of harm's way right as the broadsword came down on the spot where they'd once stood.
And Edith had no idea what Isaac meant until they materialized in a storage facility—one that was much farther away than he could safely teleport in a single try.
Thirteen
• • •
The moment Isaac materialized, he was in too much pain to even think straight.
Jerking away from Edith, he stumbled back and fell, instinctively trying to angle his body so he'd land on his stomach. It was difficult to accomplish when all of his muscles were weak, even rubbery, but he thankfully managed.
His cheek smacked into the cold cement floor of the storage unit he'd teleported them to, the low temperature a welcome sensation in comparison to the charred flesh now burning across his back, arms, and neck—not that it offered any relief. Instead, the mute festered, leaving Isaac motionless, weak, and sick to his stomach.
“Isaac!” Edith exclaimed, quickly kneeling next to him.
Breathlessly, he growled, “Don't touch my back. The mute's … flared up.”
“How far did you teleport?”
“Too far. Grab my pocketknife … cut this shirt off.”
“Okay,” she agreed, and he felt her digging through his jeans to locate the item.
Only a moment later, she sliced the material open, and slowly peeled it away from his skin—not that it mattered. Even the light brush of material against the surface of his injured tissue was like pulling a band aid off a wound too quickly, and the resulting pain had him snarling in agony.
“I'm sorry!” she rushed out, and he could easily tell she was trying her best to be gentle.
But he only relaxed once free of the shirt, and as soon as Edith spied the harshly burned flesh, she gasped, “Oh my god! It … it's horrible, Isaac.”
“I know,” he muttered. “Just need a few minutes to heal.”
“I can soothe it with magic.”
“No!” he snapped more harshly than he'd intended due to the pain. But using magic to soothe a wound that would be healed in only a few minutes would've been a waste.
“Okay,” she replied hesitantly, and he could sense her settling next to him. “So this is what happens when you use too much of your strength?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “The mute expands, starts burning my body away. Kinda ironic, actually. I'm supposed to be immune to fire.”
Edith didn't respond to his comment at first, and he tried to crane his head back to see her face, but she was just out of his line of sight. Still, the anger in her voice was evident as she announced, “When I have my staff, I'm gonna find a way to erase this damned thing once and for all.”
She sounded so determined that Isaac growled, pissed he wouldn't be able to kiss her as soon as he was better for showing such concern on his behalf. Can't believe it, but I'd actually rather keep the damned mute if it meant being released from this oath.
He couldn't count how many times it'd stopped him from seizing a perfect moment now, not that it was impossible to get around the vow when he had more than one motivation for passing Edith a compliment, or giving her a puzzle box. But Isaac preferred the direct approach, and damn it all, he needed to admit both his admiration and lust from time to time.
Though not necessarily in that order.
“Where are we, anyway?” she asked softly during his thoughts.
“London. This is one of my storage units.”
Though storage units were typically meant to house random items, and this one had a good bit of clutter, it was actually furnished. A full bed stood against the far wall with a dresser next to it, and there were several bookshelves filled with more than just books, such as a few light spheres that illuminated the area in a dim blue glow.
There were also several runic markings spray painted on the walls, a facet of the unit Isaac explained once Edith inquired, “Why here? I mean, why so far from Belfast?”
“Closest warded unit I have. Those runes stop the Brute from tracking through Limbo.”
Edith must have known at least a little about the subject because she suddenly drew out, “Oh, right. Brute's see and travel through Limbo, so even being out of his line of physical sight, he can still track someone's soul from a long distance.” Sighing as if annoyed, she asked, “Did Rothario send him?”
The Final Calling Page 12
