Refuge (16 page)

There was a short pause. “Not yet. If Brendan
thinks it’s safe – ”

“Nate, you promised!”

“I know. I’m just having trouble with the
idea of taking something I know nothing about.”

I repressed a sigh of frustration. Nate had
accepted the existence of the supernatural world, but he still
couldn’t handle it all. Every time we spoke, I asked him about the
Ptellon blood I gave him to help keep him safe from demons and
other nasty things, and every time he said he would start using it.
Even knowing the dangers out there, he would rather not ingest
something with magical properties.

“I
know what it is. You have to trust me, please. If
you only knew what I went through to get that stuff.” I’d never
told him about my little adventure at the marina. With everything
else going on at the time, I didn’t think he needed to hear about a
pack of possessed wharf rats. “It will make me feel a lot better if
you take it.”

I heard his chair squeak as he shifted
position. “I’ll do it. I just need to talk myself into it.”

“Promise me.”

“I will, I promise. So, what’s been going on
with you?”

I opened my mouth to tell him about the demon
attack and shut it just as quickly. I couldn’t tell him something
like that; it would freak him out. The only reason he was okay with
me moving here was he thought it would be safer for me. And it was,
just not as much as he believed.

“Hugo and Woolf are doing a lot better, and
they don’t growl as much at people. Did you get the picture I sent
of them?”

“Yes, and I thought someone was spamming me
until I realized you were using a different email address. That
picture’s not Photoshopped, is it?”

I chuckled. “Nope.”

He let out a low whistle. “When you told me
about them, they didn’t sound real. Who would believe hellhounds
really exist? But then, a few months ago, I didn’t think a lot of
things were real. Do their eyes always glow like that?”

“Yes, but I think the camera flash makes them
look redder than usual.”

“They look terrifying. Are you sure it’s safe
to be around them?”

“Absolutely. Trust me; Tristan wouldn’t let
me near them if he thought I’d get hurt. He’s almost as bad as
Nikolas.” Nate knew all about Tristan being my grandfather, and
he’d said he was glad I had family here. If he found the idea of me
having a grandfather who looked almost young enough to be his son
strange, he didn’t let on.

“Ah, I knew you sounded out of sorts, and I
can guess why. No word from Nikolas yet?”

I threw down my pencil and it skidded across
the desk. “He’s back.”

“And?” Nate asked slowly.

“And he showed up out of the blue today to
tell me he’s going to train me now. Just like that!” I still
couldn’t believe Tristan was making me do this. I’d tried to track
him down after dinner, but he was suspiciously unavailable. I was
contemplating not showing up for training tomorrow, but something
told me Nikolas would not let me out of it that easily.

“I know you were upset when he left and you
missed him, but he probably had a very good reason for
leaving.”

“I did not miss him.” I got up and started
pacing. “I just think he could have had the courtesy to say he was
leaving. I don’t see him for weeks, and now he’s back and he thinks
he can tell me what to do again. I don’t think so. You should see
how the others act around him. They talk about him like he’s a god
or something. As if he needed to be more full of himself.”

Nate waited until I finished my rant before
he spoke. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m glad you’ll
be working with him. You told me yourself that your training is not
going well. Maybe Nikolas can help you. If I learned anything about
him during the weeks you were gone, it was how dedicated he is and
how much he cares for your wellbeing.”

“More likely he wanted to make sure he did
his job right,” I said bitterly.

“That’s your anger talking. You don’t really
mean that.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore. He left,
Nate.”

“And now he’s back.”

I didn’t say anything, and for a long moment
there was silence on the line.

“Listen, I have to get back to work. I told
my editor I’d let her have the first five chapters this week.” I
heard the soft whir of his chair and knew he was headed back to his
office. “Don’t be too mad at Nikolas. I’m sure he had a good reason
for being away this long.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Dejected, I
sank down in my chair again. “I’ll call you in a few days,
okay?”

My stomach growled when I hung up, reminding
me I hadn’t finished my dinner. I went to my small kitchenette to
grab the blueberry muffin I’d stashed there earlier. Pulling off
the plastic, I nibbled at the muffin as I walked back to my desk.
The cooks here were amazing, but their blueberry muffins had
nothing on Nate’s.

Thinking about Nate’s baking made me homesick
again. I laid the muffin on my desk and went to my closet to start
going through the boxes I hadn’t had the heart to open yet. The box
containing my grandmother’s quilts was ripped on one corner, and I
pulled them out to make sure they hadn’t been damaged. Nate had
collected them from my home in Portland after my dad died, and I
treasured them as much as my dad’s books. My favorite was a blue
one with a different bird beautifully hand-stitched into each
square. I shook out the quilt, thinking it would look great on my
bed. In fact, it was time I started to add my own touches to the
room and make it feel more like mine.

“What the – ?” Something squished between my
bare toes. I looked down at the blueberry muffin I had left on the
desk. “How the hell did that get there?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a
flutter of the bed skirt, and I whipped my head around to see a
tiny pale face peering out at me. Imps in a Mohiri home? I almost
laughed at the notion of the great demon hunters’ stronghold
infested with the thieving little demons that were considered
vermin in the supernatural world. This one was a bold little fiend
too, showing himself to me like that. It had taken years to form an
unlikely truce with the imps in our home back in New Hastings. Was
I going to have to lock up my things now to keep them safe from
these new imps?

I tossed the quilt on the bed and bent to
scrape the squashed muffin off the floor. Rising, I moved to throw
it in the wastebasket, but a small chattering from under the bed
made me look at the imp that had come farther into the open and was
watching my hand intently.

“Are you hungry? Do you want this?” I
extended my hand toward him, and I was so shocked when he nodded
that I almost dropped the muffin. Imps are not the friendliest of
creatures and they usually go out of their way to pretend not to
understand people. Suspicion filled me. There was no way an imp
would reveal itself to someone, let alone communicate with
them.

“I know you, don’t I? You hitched a ride in
my boxes from home.” The ripped box made sense now. Sneaky little
buggers.

The imp shifted from one foot to the other
before he nodded again.

“I know you didn’t decide to go off and
explore the world on your own. Where are your buddies?” When he did
not move, I said, “If you guys want this muffin, you better come
clean with me.” I had no intention of withholding the food from
him, but he didn’t know that.

A long moment passed before two more faces
appeared around the edge of the bed skirt. I held back a groan.
What was I going to do with three stowaway imps? And what would
Tristan say if he discovered I’d infested his home with the little
demons?

“I hope you guys didn’t come here to get away
from Oscar, because if so, I have bad news for you. Nate’s bringing
him when he comes for Thanksgiving.”
Which reminds me I need to buy a litter box and
some cat food
. My room was going to get very crowded all too
soon.

I broke the flattened muffin into three
pieces and laid them on the floor near the bed. Then I backed away
so the imps could run out and grab their treats. As they
disappeared under the bed again, I wondered if they had made a home
under there or somewhere in the walls like they had back home.
“Hey, you guys better not go to the bathroom under my bed or I’m
going to find some new roommates,” I called after them.

Shaking my head, I pulled my grandmother’s
quilt over the bed, and it immediately made the room feel homier
and more like a place I would live in. I replaced the expensive rug
with my faded blue-and-yellow one and installed my dad’s old stereo
on a table in the sitting area along with my stack of CDs. A soft
red throw blanket lay across the couch, and a framed drawing I’d
done of my dad a long time ago took the place of honor on the
mantel. Against one wall I stacked a few drawings and framed photos
of Nate, Roland, and Peter to hang when I found some tools. When I
finally stood back and looked around my transformed room, I felt at
home in it for the first time.

There was one more thing I wanted to do
tonight. I reached under my desk and pulled out the bag containing
the antique chessboard I’d bought at the jewelry store to replace
the one that had been burned.

I hadn’t seen Desmund since the night we
played checkers, and I felt a mix of eagerness and trepidation as I
approached the library. Had he noticed my reaction when I touched
his skin? Was my sudden hurry to leave what made him angry enough
to rip apart the book I’d been reading and burn the chessboard? It
was impossible to know how much pain he endured or how that
affected his mind. It had hurt to see the destroyed book, and I had
to remind myself that Desmund was not well and not responsible for
his behavior.

When I entered the library, I was happy to
see it had been restored to its previous state. The fire burning
low in the hearth and the empty brandy glass on the table by
Desmund’s chair told me he had been there recently, and it
surprised me how disappointed I was that I’d missed him. I told
myself that I just wanted to check on him and make sure he was
okay, but the truth was that despite his volatile moods, Desmund
was interesting and unlike anyone I’d ever met. When he turned on
the charm he was almost endearing – in a Mad-Hatter-meets-Mr.-Darcy
kind of way.

Even if I did not see him tonight, I could at
least leave the chessboard.
And hope he doesn’t torch this one, too.
I laid it
on the table by the window where we’d played and looked around for
some paper to leave a note with the board. I found some stationary
supplies in a small desk and scrawled a quick message:
Looking forward to our rematch.
Sara.

I left the room and started back toward the
stairs but stopped when I heard music coming from somewhere at the
far end of the hallway. The haunting melody called to me, and I
found myself walking toward it until I stopped in front of a
half-open door with soft light spilling into the hallway. I stood
there for several minutes listening to the music before I quietly
entered the room to find a man sitting at a grand piano, his long
fingers moving deftly over the keys. His back was to the door, but
I recognized Desmund immediately. I stood in the doorway as still
as a mouse for fear of disturbing him and causing him to stop
playing. As moody and reclusive as he was, he might not like an
audience, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the achingly
beautiful music.

The piece came to an end and Desmund sat bent
over the keys, unmoving. I watched him for a moment then moved to
quietly slip away.

“Did you like it?”

I turned back to find him watching me with an
unreadable expression. “It was beautiful. I’ve never heard anything
like it.”

His expression did not change, and I wondered
if he was angry at me for intruding on him again. “I’m sorry; I
didn’t mean to bother you.”

“I have not seen you in days.” Something like
anger or hurt edged his voice, but I could not be sure which
one.

“It’s been kind of crazy lately.” I winced
inwardly at my thoughtless choice of words. “I went to the library
to see you and I heard the music.”

“You came to see me?” I nodded, and his eyes
softened. He patted the piano bench. “Come, sit with me.”

I hesitated for a moment before I walked over
to the piano. The thought of sitting in such close proximity to him
after my last experience unnerved me, but I had a feeling it would
upset him if I refused. He shifted over to make room for me, and
when his sleeve brushed harmlessly against my bare arm, I let out
the breath I’d been holding.

“What were you playing when I came in?”

Desmund played a few notes, and I noticed
that his long hands were perfect for playing piano. “That was
Beethoven. I like to play him when the mood strikes me. Would you
like to hear another one?”

“Play one of your favorites for me.”

He started to play again, and I was
immediately mesmerized by his fingers dancing across the keys and
the captivating music that filled the air around us. Before I’d
come here, I’d never given a second thought to classical music, but
listening to Desmund play made me feel like I had been granted a
rare privilege. It amazed me that he could play with such precision
and beauty while struggling with the sickness and instability
inside him.

My research on Hale witches had turned up
nothing to help me understand Desmund’s affliction, and I knew the
only way to learn more was first hand. I really did not want to
experience that horrible sickness again, but I also couldn’t bear
the thought of him suffering it alone. I would have gone mad a long
time ago if our roles were reversed, and it spoke volumes about his
strength that he was able to function at the level he did.