I closed my eyes and drifted in a pleasant haze while recalling the night before. Snippets of betting and drinking floated in my mind along with the memory of winning some good food. Food always made Emily happy. What made me happy were the bottles that still sat on the counter when I’d stumbled to bed well after midnight.
I vaguely recalled a new bottle of something that had tempted me. I might have taken a little sample of it before I went back to bed. I couldn’t remember.
After quickly washing, I left my bedroom. My steps weren’t quite steady, but the carpeted stairs didn’t make a sound under my feet as I clung to the railing. It was a good thing because Emily was a light sleeper, and I didn’t want to be caught going down to look at our haul. Well, my haul.
The light above the sink guided me to the tidy kitchen. All evidence of a party was gone, including the bottles.
Confused, I spun in a slow circle. My eyes had to be seeing things wrong, or maybe I was drunker than I’d thought. The alcohol couldn’t be gone. There had been at least seven bottles sitting right there when I’d gone to bed. I squinted at the counter for a moment then smiled.
Emily had probably put them away. She was always cleaning up like that.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, I opened the cupboard above the stove and peered into the inky emptiness. Undeterred, I continued searching until every single door in the kitchen gaped open. There wasn’t a single bottle of liquor in any of them.
Gripping the counter to stay upright, I struggled to cope with what this meant. There would be no escape from the pain and memories once I sobered. If I sobered—
I heard a muted rustle behind me and froze. How many times had I been in this situation since the quakes? Hearing something and knowing what was coming for me? After all, that whisper of noise was usually the only indication a person had before becoming infected.
I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t. The only thing I felt was tired…of everything.
Pivoting to face the living room, I peered into the gloom and watched a form slowly sit up on the couch. It didn’t do anything more than that, though, which was unusual. Infected typically ran at their next meal.
I flicked on the light and felt like I’d been gut-punched when Merdon blinked back at me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered harshly.
“I was sleeping. What are you doing in the kitchen, Hannah?”
“Shh. Why are you sleeping on our couch? Go sleep on your own.”
“I have no couch. Or home. That is why Emily told me to sleep here.”
I almost swore. Emily’s soft heart was going to screw us over. Just like a person should never feed a gremlin after midnight, a smart human never invited a fey to sleep over. The grey men tended not to want to leave. No way I wanted to be stuck with a stray fey.
Instead of cursing, I pasted on a smile and moved to the front door.
“I’m glad you were able to stay warm while you slept. I’ll ask around to see if someone has an open couch for you tonight.”
I opened the door and waited, expectantly. He didn’t stand up to leave like a normal person would have. Annoyingly, he just stared at me. I held my ground, letting my toes go cold. It didn’t take long for the furnace to kick on.
“This is where you leave, Merdon,” I said finally.
Fey didn’t always understand human subtleties.
He rose from the couch, unfolding to an impressive height, and prowled toward me. Dawn’s pink light painted his grey skin, making him appear almost human if not for the pointed ears and freakishly yellowed eyes.
He stopped before me, towering over my diminutive height.
“I’m not impressed,” I said. “But I am cold. Could you just leave already?”
He tilted his head, studying me.
“You are very used to getting what you want.”
I snorted.
“If that were true, I would have a drink in my hand right now.”
I didn’t let myself think of what I really wanted.
“You drink too much.”
Anger spiked up, and I grabbed his bicep to turn him toward the exit. Unfortunately, a human couldn’t move a fey unless the fey wanted to move, and this one was being stubborn.
“Stopping that infected from killing me doesn’t mean you own me or have a right to tell me what