Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
He sets down the last of the meat he hasn’t devoured yet. “So tell us the story. Hannah-wife likes to believe the best of everyone. I am the opposite.”
I narrow my eyes, breaking the gaze I’ve been working so hard to keep as my muscles tense again. Is he trying to say this is some sort of trap?
“I have invited you to my table, so there is peace between us for the moment,” he continues. “But we have been under threat.” This comes out as a rumbling growl from the back of his throat. “So please, tell me how you came to my doorstep.”
“Abaddon,” Hannah chides. “I told you I wanted this to just be a nice dinner.”
He looks at her. “And I want you and our child to remain safe. It does not seem like a coincidence to have an intruder at our door when we know we are being watched by a rogue angel.”
I understand wanting to protect one’s territory, so I hold up one hand. “I’d think it’s obvious I’m no threat to you. I don’t know anything about anyone named Angel. I got lost in the forest this morning, and all I want is to get home.”
“Where is home?” Abaddon asks.
“No offense,” I say, dropping Social Ksenia’s mask and glaring his way. “But I don’t even tell my friends where I live. Much less my enemies.”
“I am your enemy then?” Abaddon says, lifting out of his chair.
I move to stand as well, hands to my knives. “If that’s what you decide.”
“Stop it,” Thing says, getting to his feet. He glares at Abaddon. “Brother, you will keep your thoughts to yourself.” Then he turns to me, his face earnest. “I meant it when I said you are safe here. We are not your enemy.”
I move away from the table, my fists clenched. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Is there a room where I can spend the night?” I glance in Abaddon’s direction, thinking, preferably one with a door that locks. “I’m going to have a long journey tomorrow, so I’d like to rest now.”
Chapter Nine
THING
I glare my brothers down. Hannah looks unhappy but says, “Of course. I’m sorry. I should have allowed you to take dinner in your room.”
Then she turns and glares at Abaddon, too, not that he looks remotely remorseful. I want to do violence upon the fool.
Romulus at least keeps playing with baby Raven in his lap, the only one who knows how to mind his own business. Or is tactically minded enough to avoid the brewing fight.
I look to the woman who seems ready to flee our sight the moment she knows which direction to go and ask, “Would you prefer Hannah or I to show you to your room?”
“You,” she says immediately, surprising me. I would have thought she’d be more comfortable with her own kind, but my chest goes warm. Does that mean she does not see me as an enemy? Or just the most familiar enemy?
“Take your plate.” I gesture at the table. “You will need your strength tomorrow.”
She nods reluctantly, then reaches for her plate, holding it close to her stomach. I breathe out in satisfaction, knowing she will be fed.
Then she follows me out of the room.
Once we’re in the hallway toward the staircase, her soft voice says, “I hope your, er, sister-in-law knows I’m grateful for the food.”
I nod, feeling uncomfortable about everything that happened at the table. I fear it only showcased my sometimes unspoken worries for Hannah-wife—ones that Abaddon can either not see or will not acknowledge. She misses her own kind. It is not good for her to be locked away here with only monsters for company. I am glad this woman will be able to escape our dreary existence tomorrow.
“So,” she breaks the quiet as I lead the way up the stairs. I’m glad for the electric lights Romulus installed throughout; I can see through the windows—also newly installed—that it’s pitch-black outside. I shudder to think of her earlier, wandering in circles. If she had continued in the darkness which falls so early in winter. . .
“Is there actually somewhere safe to sleep? By a fire?” Then she repeats, “Safe, with a door? Maybe one that locks?”
My heart clenches in my chest.
It is not fair, or even possible, to make penance for all the sins I have committed against humanity by helping this one human. . .
But still, I will not let harm come to her.
This one, at least, I will protect.
“Yes. A room with a door that locks. Follow me,” I say.
I move up the stairs two at a time, then worry I am moving too fast. But when I pause to look behind me, the woman is at my back. So I turn around and continue to the third floor. My floor.