“You’re not staying alone with him, either,” Logan says.
“Okay, first of all, she won’t be alone,” I say. “I will be here, too, and second of all—”
“—and second of all, Munchkin, how exactly are you going to protect yourself from anyone when the two of you put together have the strength of a chipmunk? Besides, I’m pretty sure the minute we’re out the door, he’s going to brand your best friend with a witchmark that will get her killed at some point,” Parker says.
I so regret having asked Jessie to bring food for Azzie. I should’ve just sneaked out myself and none of this would be happening right now. Parker would have never found out about Azzie, Jessie and I would find a way to make a new witchlight for him, and we would all live happily ever after. Yeah, right.
“Why do you keep saying that a witchmark will get us killed? Are you just trying to scare us? If they are demon hunters, why would they try to kill witches?” Jessie asks.
“Because they hate witches as much as demons,” Parker says. “They think that witches are responsible for all the damage that demons do in this world, which is true for the most part.”
“But we’re not hurting anyone,” Jessie argues. “What reason could they possibly have to kill us?”
“Just the fact you’re a witch is usually enough,” Parker says.
“Well, you’re a demon hunter and I don’t see you rushing to kill us. Unless you mean to do so slowly by torturing us with your very presence. If so, then please just do it quickly and painlessly.”
“I’m not trying to kill you,” Parker says as if he feels the need to justify himself. Surely, if he wanted to kill us he would have done it a long time ago. He did have plenty of opportunities. “But just because I’m not trying to kill you, doesn’t mean that someone else won’t.”
“Okay, we’ve established that you’re not trying to kill us,” I say. “I’m pretty sure Azzie is not trying to kill us, either.” Parker opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “I think we should all go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. We can figure out what to do next tomorrow.”
Parker and Logan stare at my bed with their eyebrows raised. Really? Are they even more tired than I am or are their brains that stupid on their own?
“Let me clarify what I just said. We should all go to our own homes and have a good night’s sleep in our own beds.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Parker says stubbornly.
Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows.
“I can sleep on the floor,” he says quickly.
“Like you sleeping in my bed is the problem,” I say without thinking. Then blush. “You staying in my room is the problem. I don’t need anyone watching over me. Thank you for the food,”—I give the melted ice cream a sad look—“but it’s really time for all of you to leave.”
Nobody moves. Great. It’s not like I can call police or anything. And I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single person in this room I can kick out of here. Maybe I should be the one to leave? Sleep on a bed of leaves somewhere in the woods? Or in a hollow tree? No, way too creepy.
Jessie says, “Why don’t I stay and you guys can leave?”
“If you’re staying, I’m staying, too,” Logan says.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Parker says.
I look at Jessie in despair. She shrugs and says, “Sleepover? We didn’t get to finish ours, and our parents are not back from the trip yet, so no one is going to worry about us.”
“That’s not exactly how I envisioned our sleepover. Besides, what if my parents see you? I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life.” Actually, I probably won’t. Mom will most likely be happy that I have two boys in my room. Well, two and a half, if I count Azzie, which I so shouldn’t. “Or worse, what if Chloe sees you?”
“Nobody is going to see us,” Jessie says. “Come on, this is going to be fun.” She gets up on her feet, excited.
“What if you need to use the bathroom?”
“Isn’t that the door to the bathroom?” Logan points at the bathroom door.
“The one I share with Chloe, yes.”
“They can go outside,” Jessie waves her hand at the window like it’s no big deal.
“You’re joking, right?” I ask.
“Only half-joking.” She winks at me.
“Well, it’s not like I can kick you out of here,” I say to the guys. “But you have to promise me two things. First, no harming Azzie.” I hesitate for a moment. “You know what, don’t even touch him. I’m talking to you.” I look at Parker. “Otherwise, I don’t care what kind of trouble I’m going to get in over this, I will call my parents. And the police, if I have to. Nobody’s getting mangled under my bed anymore.” That came out wrong somehow.
I wait for Parker to confirm that he is all right with this rule. He stares at me for such a long time I’m afraid he’s going to burn a whole in me and then do the same to Azzie who is still hiding behind me. But Parker just says, “Fine.” That’s what his mouth says. His eyes are definitely saying something along the lines of: I can’t believe you’re making me promise not to hurt this little shit when all I really want to do is rip his throat out with my bare teeth, but I let it slide.
“And second?” Logan asks.
“And second is that you entertain yourselves. As you can see, there are no books here anymore. No books, no laptop, no TV. Make your own entertainment, and don’t bother me while I’m doing my homework. Except for you, you can bother me,” I tell Jessie.
“And what about him?” Parker points at Azzie.
“Oh, he’s pretty good at entertaining himself.” Azzie nods vigorously at my shoulder.
“Fine,” Parker says grudgingly. “But can you promise at least one thing?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t get into any more trouble until we figure out what to do with him.” He jerks his chin at Azzie.
“I promise,” I say. When did I ever—intentionally—get myself into any kind of trouble?
BY MIDNIGHT, I’M FINALLY caught up with my homework. All I want to do now is burrow under the covers and fall asleep, but when I imagine myself doing it, I see Parker creeping up on Azzie and strangling him. Or pulling his horns off. Or doing some other ghastly thing.
I do my best to get these images out of my head, then put my homework away and try to find a comfortable position on my bed. Jessie is sprawled next to me, drawing something in a sketchbook. Logan and Parker sit on the floor at the foot of the bed, playing cards. I found an extra blanket for them, but there’s no way they’ll be comfortable. Which serves them right. Azzie is in his chair, sleeping. At least I think he is sleeping at first, but every time Logan or Parker say something or move, he jolts and peeks an eye open. Then, when no one seems to be attacking him, he goes back to his restless sleep.
When I’m finally too tired to worry about Azzie, I close my eyes and drift into slumber.
Chapter 18
Thump!
I hit the floor as I fall off the bed. I open my eyes and sit up, rubbing the back of my head—I’m pretty sure there’s a nasty bruise forming there. I look at my bed and immediately understand why I ended up on the floor. Apparently, at some point during the night, Azzie crawled into the bed and fell asleep between Jessie and me. And then he decided to roll over, thus pushing me off my own bed.
“Why are you jumping off beds, Munchkin?” Parker whispers. I can barely see his silhouette stretched out on the floor on my blanket. Logan is fast asleep beside him.
“You do realize it wasn’t on purpose, right?” I whisper back.
“You do realize I’m making fun of you, right?”
“Sorry. I must not be completely awake yet. Did my head hit the floor so hard it woke you up?”
“Nah, I couldn’t sleep for a while because of your snoring.”
“You’re lying,” I say, not entirely convinced that he is. I look up at Azzie again. He is sprawled across the bed, with his right
foot on Jessie’s stomach, and drooling all over my pillow. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have crawled into my bed if I were snoring.
“Am I now?” Parker asks and waves his phone in front of me.
“You recorded it?” I ask incredulously. Oh God, please let there not be a recording of me snoring. I grab his phone and try to find the recording, but there’s nothing there. “There’s nothing on your phone,” I say, a little relieved, and give him his phone back.
“You’re so gullible, Munchkin,” he grins.
“I hate you.”
“Go back to sleep.”
I probably should. I assess the situation on the bed. There’s definitely no place for me there. “I can’t. Azzie is in my place.”
“I can fix that.”
“What time is it?” I ignore his offer.
Parker’s watch flashes in the dark. “Four thirty-five,” he says.
I consider my options. “Do you think my mom will think I’m weird if she finds me sleeping on the couch?” I ask.
“You mean will she think you’re even more weird? I think you’re pretty safe.”
“Great.” I don’t really feel like going back to sleep, though. I suppose I can curl up in Azzie’s pull-out chair—since when did I start calling it Azzie’s chair?—and sleep for a couple more hours in it, but I don’t feel tired anymore. It’s a little strange. I feel like I’ve slept through the entire night. This is the second night I’ve slept so well. Ever since—ever since Parker gave me that necklace. I touch the necklace under my pajama top. I have completely forgotten about it. But it couldn’t have affected my sleep, could it? It must be the placebo effect.
“Do you want coffee?” I blurt out without thinking.
“Sure,” he says, a little surprised.
“But we have to be very quiet,” I say. “And we can’t use the coffee maker—it’s too loud. I think we have an old French press somewhere.”
“Works for me.”
We sneak out of the room and tiptoe downstairs. Parker produces a flashlight. What guy doesn’t go to his friends’ house—um, his friend’s sister’s friend’s house?—without a flashlight? But I guess what normal teenagers do doesn’t apply to demon hunters. He is also really quiet for someone his size and makes a lot less noise than I do.
Once in the kitchen, I set a pot of water on the stove and start searching through the cupboards. I can’t find the French press. I do find an old flat iron stuck behind some pots in the pantry. It doesn’t look broken, so I put it on the counter to test later and possibly appease Chloe.
“I can’t find the French press,” I say. “We’ll have to prepare it the old-fashioned way.”
I grab two mugs from a cupboard. I deliberately ignore the ones that don’t have any cartoon characters on them and pick the ones with pictures of Winnie the Pooh. I put some ground coffee grounds in each mug, pour boiling water to the brim, and cover the mugs with matching saucers. The smell of coffee permeates the kitchen.
“Nice,” Parker says when I present him with the mug. He turns it in his hands, looking at the picture. Finally says, “Cute.” A pretty genuine cute. Okay, cups with cartoon characters don’t do it. I’ll have to think of some other way to annoy him.
Parker sets the flashlight on the table so that the light beam points at the ceiling. It creates a mystical feel to the room, as if we’re in a cave filled with bioluminescent algae.
I take the saucer off the mug and blow on the coffee grounds that gathered on top. They float to the bottom of the mug, but not before the entire kitchen smells like a coffee shop. I take a sip and it’s delicious. Parker doesn’t ask for milk or sugar, so I don’t offer him any. He seems to be engrossed in his thoughts. I don’t feel like talking, and I don’t know what to talk about anyway, so we just sit there for a while, drinking our coffee and not talking. It turns out I don’t mind Parker that much. As long as he doesn’t open his mouth.
“Nice coffee, Munchkin,” Parker says. And the feeling is gone. Who says a compliment and an insult in the same sentence?
“Thanks,” I say dryly, not wanting to start an argument over the stupid nickname again. Just one more year and Parker will be out of our little town, in some college far, far away.
“So what’s up with you and Chloe?” Parker asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You two seem particularly on edge around each other lately.” Huh, he noticed? Apparently demon hunters are very observant.
“Wait, are you trying to have a conversation with me?” I gasp.
“Why is it so shocking?” he asks and sips his coffee. I can’t tell from the tone of his voice if he is mocking me or if he is genuinely surprised by my reaction. And the limited light from the flashlight that barely reaches his face doesn’t give many clues, either. But who am I kidding? When there is a choice between mocking and something else when it comes to Parker, it’s a safe bet that it’s mocking.
“I didn’t think you considered me conversation material,” I say and sip my coffee. I didn’t think he considered any girl conversation material, misogynist that he is, but I’m not rude like him to say it to his face. Or maybe I’m just not honest? Should I be polite or honest? That’s quite a conundrum. Why can’t a person be both?
“What kind of material did you think I considered you?” he asks curiously.
“Mostly mocking material, I guess.” I go for honesty, but it sounds like I’m complaining or something, which I’m definitely not.
“What gave you that impression?” I think his silhouette raises an eyebrow, but I can’t quite tell.
“Um, Munchkin, Kiddo? Should I continue?” Constant remarks about my eating habits are not very helpful, either.
“You don’t like it when I call you Munchkin?”
“What possibly gave you that impression? Could it be my constant mentioning of the fact?”
“Good point, Munchkin. And a nice try at avoiding answering my question about Chloe.”
I sigh. “You know about Derek, right?”
“That they started dating? Sure. I think the entire school knows by now. Almost as popular a rumor as your little incident in Mr. Mason’s class. Almost.”
I clutch the handle of my mug until my knuckles shine brighter than the flashlight.
“Right. Only they are not actually dating yet. You see, Chloe is not allowed to go on a date with him unless I’m there, too. As a chaperone. Apparently they don’t think she should date a boy who’s two years older than her, at least not without adult supervision. Or someone who’s more adult than her, aka her big sister.”
Even in the dim light I notice Parker’s eyebrows lifting in surprise. Apparently this information is new for him. I thought Jessie told Logan and Logan told Parker, but maybe guys just don’t talk about these things? No, who am I kidding? Of course they do. Jessie must have kept it a secret from Logan. That’s the only plausible explanation. And here I am, giving Parker ammunition on how to really mess up my life. Eh, how much more messed up can it get?
“Um, I should have prefaced all that with a request to keep it a secret,” I add belatedly.
“No problem,” Parker says. “But how can they make you go along with it? Wait, is that why they took away your books?” he realizes.
“Yep.”
“That’s—creative,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“That’s not the word I’d go for, but okay. Anyway, I could survive the chaperoning part, only that’s not all they came up with.”
“God, what else could they make you do?”
“Apparently, my parents have decided that I spend too much time reading books and need to, er, widen my horizons, so to speak. By going on dates. So not only would I have to chaperone Chloe on her dates with Derek, I would need to have a date, too. So, basically, she can’t go on a date unless I have a date as well.”
“Oh, that’s simply—genius. Absolutely messed up, but genius.”
“Yes, we’ve established the fact
that my parents are evil geniuses. Technically, I don’t have to do any of those things. I don’t have to go on any dates and I don’t have to chaperone Chloe. However, if I don’t, I will never see my books again, I won’t be able to use my laptop for anything other than schoolwork, and Chloe—”
“And Chloe will make you wish you were never born.”
“Exactly. Not that she isn’t already doing her best in that department. She’s not even bothering me about Brian’s party that much, even though she’s really looking forward to going there with Derek. I think she’s pretty sure I’m so intimidated by her that I’ll just do whatever she wants me to, which is find some stupid date to go to the party with me. But I’m not giving in.”
“Why not?”
I almost spew my coffee out. “What do you mean why not?”
“Why don’t you just ask someone to go with you? That would solve all your problems.”
Oh, my problems wouldn’t even begin to be solved by that. If anything, I’d be in such a whirlwind of fecal matter I wouldn’t know where to hide.
“Chloe would be happy, maybe even a little grateful.”
“A little—grateful?”
“Okay, maybe not grateful, but she’ll get off your back for a while.”
“That’s assuming I ask someone and they say yes.” Which is already assuming too much.
“Why not? Some people might find you cute.”
This time I do spew a little coffee out. Some people? Might? That’s encouraging. And what makes him think I even want to ask someone out? I thought I made it pretty clear that I don’t. A flush spreads across my cheeks and I try to grab the flashlight to divert the light so Parker doesn’t see how flustered I am, but he grabs it before I can—damn that football player reaction, or is it demon hunter reaction? He directs the light toward the kitchen counter, so I don’t think he can see my face. I so do not want to talk about my personal life with him. I should have nipped that conversation in the bud rather than take his bait.
“So?” he says.
A Witch and a Secret Page 17
