Bookie ignored my frustrated comment and continued, “If I could heal, I’m not showing any aptitude. If it was this place, then this should’ve worked. It didn’t.” Back to square one. I hadn’t realized how much I’d hoped to narrow down what Zarrod was using my magic for until I felt the crushing disappointment.
I poked the poor dead bird. “And we stole a rooster for no good reason. You think we could bring it back and cook it?”
I heard a gagging noise behind me. “Have you fed yourself, like, ever?”
“That’s a no, right?”
“Unless you feel like spending a week puking, we leave it.”
I took the stick and pushed it back into the grave. Bookie had walked back over to the bike, and I used the free moment to poke around in his grave a couple more times while he wasn’t looking. I’d given him a brand-new Moobie when I’d buried him. There was a chance it had made it. It hadn’t rained that much.
“I appreciate that you buried the books for me, but they’re all ruined.”
Bookie was looking right at me. I stood and threw down my stick, reminding myself it wasn’t his fault he’d destroyed my book. “I hadn’t read that one.”
“I’m not the one who lent books to a dead person,” he said.
I headed over to the bike, packing the shovel away and waiting for him to get on. “Come on, we’ve got more dead birds to go dig up.”
He got on. “I’ll get you a new Moobie.”
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault your dead self doesn't respect books,” I said, and I really tried to sound sincere.
Chapter 27
Bookie and I put the bike away in the barn, and his steps seemed as weary as mine, and I didn’t think it was just from lack of sleep. With each dead bird we’d dug up, it became clearer we were no closer to what Zarrod was after than when we’d started.
I stepped to the door and tried to soak up all that was at stake as I watched life continue on the farm.
Bookie came over and paused beside me. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.
It was his equivalent of my “it’ll be okay.” I nodded, just as he did when I was the one saying it.
Bookie straightened up a little as a figure crossing the lawn caught my eye. Amelia was heading toward the house with a cheese basket.
She looked over at us and smiled at Bookie before turning away quickly.
“What’s going on with you two?” I asked.
“Nothing. She’s just a nice girl.”
I looked at his cheeks. “Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not.”
His face was as red as a ripe tomato, but I took the hint. I was getting a lot better at those.
“I’m going to get a nap in before dinner,” he said, and took off toward the house as well.
“Sure. See you in a bit,” I said, pretty much to myself, as he was near jogging in order to not miss accidentally seeing her.
I leaned a shoulder against the barn and waited until she left the house a good ten minutes later. If I didn’t make it back one of these times, I needed to know Bookie was going to be in good hands.
Amelia made her way across the lawn, her basket a little lower than it had been. They gave jobs like delivering cheese to fluff. Lucy had been right about this one.
“Amelia?” I asked as I caught up with her before she got to her next delivery.
She stopped walking and turned toward me. Her eyes shot to my hand, since I never bothered with gloves anymore. Secret was pretty much out anyway.
“Dal?”
“Yes. Figured I’d introduce myself.” Nice of her to pretend she wasn’t sure who the girl with the scar and flaming red hair was. I’d give her back one point for politeness out of the ten I’d taken away for being fluff.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I wasn’t sure how I must’ve appeared after she said that, but it couldn’t have been good, because she immediately added, “From Bookie. He says really nice things.”
“Oh yeah. Bookie and I are tight.”
“He told me you were his best friend here.”
Damn right, and I was going to make sure he was protected even if I wasn’t going to be around. “He is. I hate when he gets upset…about anything. And I mean about anything.” I narrowed my eyes.
“I totally understand,” she said emphatically.
Lucy might’ve called this one right. Fluff was the right word. Amelia had no idea I was speaking about her. The idea that she could even pose a threat wasn’t something she could obviously wrap her mind about.
She hoisted her basket a little higher on her arm. “He said he’d teach me about medicine.”
“You want to learn about that stuff?” This had to be an act. I’d seen him do his medicine. It was disgusting. All those people coughing all over you while you stared into their mouths, and that was before it got real ugly.
“Oh, definitely! And especially from him. He’s so smart and perfect and…” Her face started to redden. “You won’t tell him I just said that, will you?”
“No, of course not.” Too damn embarrassing to be uttered again. Who said things like this?
“He’s just…he’s everything I’d want a man to be. I swear, I think my knees get weak when he’s near me.”
Bookie? I mean, he was my best friend and he had some stuff going on for him, mostly how easy he was to be around. But knees weak material?
“Have you met Dax?” I asked. Now he was a man to make your knees shake. She’d probably lose her footing altogether around him.
“Yeah, he’s…nice,” she said, in that way people used the word when they weren’t thinking of that word at all.
“You think so? Really?” I dug, seeing how quick she’d crack. “You look a little tense there.”
“He’s… He’s…”
“What? Spit it out!”
“Scary.”
That had been pretty easy. She would’ve crumbled in the Cement Giant.
But scary? I thought back to the first time I’d met him. I mean, yeah, he was intimidating, disconcerting, sometimes I didn’t know if it were heads or tails around him, but I wouldn’t really say scary.
“I gotta go in and make my drop,” she said at the door to the butcher, pretty much looking to run away from me as well.
I stepped a bit closer before she walked in, just within range to see if I could pick up anything. She was standing in a field by herself sobbing. Her worst memory was everyone dying and being left by herself. That sucked.
I smiled at her and watched her go inside, knowing I’d just made her scary list too. I could see why this was working out with Bookie and her.
“I’ve got your trunk. Bringing it up to Dax’s room,” Hank, the carpenter, said as he walked past me while I was still pondering Amelia.
“Wait!” I yelled, and ran after him. “What are you doing? What is that?”
“The trunk Dax said you guys needed because there wasn’t enough storage in his room since you moved in.”
That jerk! I knew Dax wasn’t fond of my bag and stuff piled up along the wall. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d pause and look down at my items every time he walked past them. Still, just because I’d turned down a drawer didn’t mean you got me a trunk without asking that everyone would see.
“I don’t sleep there.”
Hank’s face bunched up, and there was a pause before he asked, “You don’t?”
“Oh no. Definitely not.”
“Then…” He looked down at the trunk in his hands. “Where am I supposed to move this? Because Dax said you did. Where’s your room?”
I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought of an answer that wasn’t Dax’s. Tiffy was back in my room, which had been her room. Bookie was in his, Lucy was in hers, and I certainly wasn’t going to have him bring it to the basement, yet he knew I slept in the house… What was I going to do with this thing? “Don’t worry about it. I can bring it,” I said, holding out my arms.
; “You can’t carry this. It’s as big as you are.”
“Yes, I can. Give it to me.” I grabbed the edge of the trunk and tried to pull it from Hank’s grasp. “Let it go. I’ve got it,” I insisted, tugging on the wooden box.
“No way you can get this inside on your own, let alone up those stairs.”
“Yes I can!” All I needed to do was figure out my target. If I could take down a Dark Walker, I could manage a damn trunk. Except I was always trying to take Dark Walkers down, not lift them up. I wished this magic shit came with a manual. “Now give it to me!”
Hank finally released the weight and I nearly toppled over, but managed to stay on my feet with a couple of backward steps.
Once I stopped the backward momentum, I found I had another issue. I couldn’t see where I was going in order to start my journey forward. The idea of placing the trunk on the ground briefly crossed my mind, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to lift the thing back up if I did.
The weight lifted from my hands as I tried to hold on to the trunk. I lost the fight as it was plucked from my arms, and couldn’t compete with the pull. “I said I had it!”
“I’ve got it, Hank,” Dax said.
“She wouldn’t let me take it up—”
Dax was already walking with the trunk. “It’s fine.”
Hank was squinting at me.
“What?”
Hank walked away mumbling, and I caught up to Dax. It was a nice-looking trunk.
“I’m starting to doubt your sanity,” Dax said as I opened the back door for him. “Why wouldn’t you let Hank carry it up for you?”
“Because I don’t want everyone to know…” I looked around the living room as we made our way to the stairs, and saw Lucy paying rapt attention. “You know what I’m talking about.”
He paused on the landing. “They. Already. Know.” He began climbing the rest of the stairs.
“Then I’m casting doubt,” I said as I climbed up after him.
“We didn’t invent sex.”
“Say whatever you want, if they saw what happened in that room—”
“If it’s so distasteful, you could choose to stop.”
“I wasn’t saying I wanted to stop. This has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want everyone knowing. I don’t know why you even care.” I didn’t think it should be an issue. Why did he care if I didn’t want people to think we were sleeping together? “This is all your broken edges poking out and irritating things. You’ve got a lot of them.”
“My broken edges?”
“Yes, you’re about as craggy as a cliff over the ocean.”
“And what are you? The smooth sand on the beach?”
Sand. I liked that. I had some bumps, but nothing as bad as him. That analogy worked quite well. “Yes. I am.”
“And what about the delusions? You don’t have any of those either now, do you?”
He moved into the bedroom and put the trunk at the foot of the bed. It was beautiful, all warm and homey, like the house was. I ran my fingers over the wood grain. It was the first piece of furniture I’d ever owned.
Dax must have liked the trunk a lot too, since he wasn’t looking annoyed anymore.
Since his mood seemed to be improving, I might as well hit him up now. “Oh, and before I forget, I need you to not talk to Amelia.”
I lifted the lid to the trunk and check out the inside. I was going to need to get more stuff to fill up all this room.
“Why would I do that? She’s living on my farm.”
Moving over to where my stuff lined the wall, I grabbed my bag and some books and carried them back to the trunk. “Because I don’t want you screwing this up and scaring her away.”
“Screwing what up?” he asked, watching as I put my stuff away.
“Doesn’t matter. Just do it, okay?” I asked as I piled my books in one corner, and started arranging my clothes on the other side.
“Sure.”
I almost wished I had some more demands, since he was suddenly in such an agreeable mood.
Chapter 28
I made it downstairs but hadn’t taken two full steps in the direction of the kitchen when I spotted Bookie. He was making jerking motions with his head toward the back porch, and his actions weren’t the least bit subtle. He might as well have screamed, “I want to talk to you right now, it’s important,” instead of looking like he’d developed the world’s worst tic overnight.
I shook my head. I didn’t talk until after breakfast, and only then when the bacon was tasty, especially after last night with Dax. I didn’t care what needed to be said—I needed to get my energy back. If no one was dying, it wasn’t that important. I walked toward the kitchen, bypassing the line. The world was on the brink of going to hell anyway. What was one more express meal?
Bookie intercepted my path and his eyes popped open like a snowy owl’s. He made his silent argument that yes, breakfast had to wait.
“You might as well say it. You’re being about as slick as fingers covered in honey.”
He looked around and realized nearly everyone in the buffet line was paying attention to him, whether they were looking at him or not.
“Fine. We need to talk. Now.”
“Is someone dying?”
“No.”
“Then it can wait.”
I took a step and he shadowed me.
I could smell the food. Why was he doing this?
I walked; he walked. I might’ve muttered something about friends being a pain in the ass but then walked toward the back door, grabbing a biscuit from the table as I went. I kept walking until I got away from prying ears.
“The bacon is getting cold. This better be really important and really fast,” I said as soon as Bookie joined me, which was quickly, as he was right on my heels.
“There’s something wrong with the people Dax is bringing here.”
Not the conversation I wanted to have, but not like it was out of the blue. Every day one of the beast men did something new, whether it was rubbing against trees like they were marking their scent or actually peeing on them to do it. Dax had said it might be a tough transition, but that if we wanted this to work, this was the best way.
“What exactly is wrong?” I looked over to where Bart’s tent was, and there were now ten more alongside it. That was why Dax hadn’t noticed our outings. He’d been too busy himself.
“They’re odd. I don’t know how else to put it.”
“So what? You’re dead. It’s not nice to cast judgments about people for things they can’t help.”
“Dal, look at them and tell me you don’t see something weird.”
I looked over at Bart, now joined by one of the beast men I’d seen the other day and one of the newcomers I hadn’t met yet. It looked like they were taking turns picking things out of each other’s hair. “Maybe they find it soothing, like a lullaby at night or something?” I hummed a couple of bars from a song I’d heard Fudge humming to Tiffy.
And stopped as soon as Bookie got that glint in his eye, like he’d figured out a mystery.
His mouth dropped open for a second before he said, “Did you sneak in my room last night and listen to me breathe?”
Damn me for humming. I thought it would make him sleep better and now look? “No. Of course I didn’t do that. What kind of crazy person do you take me for?”
“So you did!”
“It’s not like I don’t have cause for concern that you might stop breathing again.”
“Is this going to happen regularly?”
I folded one arm around me and bit a nail on my other hand. This was way too much heavy lifting before bacon. How was I supposed to come up with lies without fat coursing through my blood? “I can’t say for sure.”
“Wait, how many times have you snuck in and listened to me? You do this all the time, don’t you?”
I felt like he was hitting me with trick questions. Damn him, I needed cholesterol before I could speak. “I wouldn’t say no.”<
br />
He blinked a couple of times, and I waited to see if he’d resign himself to these late night visits or if he was going to put up a fight. It was important to determine this now, as I’d need tools to pick his lock later. It would be really inconvenient to dig around in the barn at night for something to pick a lock. I liked to be prepared whenever possible.
He shook his head a couple times and then it turned into a few nods. If I were to guess, he’d resigned himself, but best to have the tools nearby anyway.
“Fine. But you’re going to tell me what you know about the weird guys, because I know you know something.”
More questions I couldn’t handle before bacon. This was going to be a rough day if it kept going like this. Then I spotted Dax walking out the back door.
“One minute,” I said, holding a finger up to Bookie before I stopped Dax.
Dax looked over to where Bookie was waiting. “What’s wrong?”
“Bookie wants to know what’s up with the weird guys. I think it’s time to tell him.”
Dax looked back over to where Bookie was a few feet away. “You think he’s ready, or did he finally catch you listening to him breathe at night and this seems like a good distraction?”
“He already knew something was wrong. Plus, he died. Who’s he to judge if you and the new guys break out in fur?”
“He got you before you had time to eat your bacon.”
Sometimes, I really hated how well he figured me out. “Yes. As a matter of fact, he did,” I said, and grabbed a few slices off his plate.
“Fine. Tell him to keep it quiet.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t want to do the honors?” I said, smelling a whiff of food with every person walking out the door.
“Too much talking before food?”
“Way too much.”
Dax strode off toward Bookie, and I was fixing my plate in the kitchen when I heard Bookie say, “No way!” in his shocked but excited tone, as if he’d just discovered a new miracle of the universe.
* * *
“Wake up, Dal.” Little, pesky hands were pulling covers off my body and ripping me out of one of the nicer dreams I’d had lately. It had been full of fudge and bacon. Dax had been there, and…
The Magic: Wilds Book Four Page 17
