Friends With The Monsters - Albany Walker Page 0,46
miss.
“No, you’ve just never had my hot chocolate.” I strut into the kitchen, waving my hand at the bar stools lined up opposite the stove under the island. Funny how perfect all three of them look lined up there. Oh, how I do love a captive audience. I start to spin on my heel to grab my pot, but stop myself. I want to get them talking. In my experience, when I ask the hard questions, everyone suddenly has some other place they need to be.
“You guys are staying until all my questions are answered, right?” I regard the three of them.
“That could be a long—” Gunnar starts, but Calix reaches over and swats his arm.
“Yup, we’ll stay until all the questions are answered,” Calix offers instead.
“Unless one of us is called away,” Grim adds. “We each have duties where our presence may be required, but if that should happen, the others would stay.” Grim nods to the two other men.
“Agreed,” Calix and Gunnar both declare at once.
“Spooky. It’s almost as if you guys have done that before.” I pick up my wooden spoon and pot to get started.
It doesn’t take much focus to make the drink—I’ve done it countless times—but I wait until all I have to do is stir before urging them to begin.
“Who’s going to start talking?” Each of them takes turns looking at the others. “Well, someone has to. How about you?” I point my chocolate covered spoon at Gunnar, then at the other two. “They said you broke the covenant, or whatever, by showing up here.”
Gunnar makes a sour face and glares at Grim and Calix. “A long time ago—”
“When?” I demand interrupting him.
“About thirty-one years ago,” he supplies, not sounding very happy, “it was decided that we would be your guardians.” He opens his hands on the island like ta-da, that’s all there is to the story.
I continue stirring my hot cocoa. “First, why would I need guardians, and second, where the hell were you?” I shout the last part of the question, letting the spoon go; it continues on the circular path for a few moments then stops.
Other than the sound of my breathing, the room is silent. Grim licks his lips. “We also decided that we would be your guardians from afar,” he explains slowly, his voice just loud enough to be heard, as if he’s worried that he’s going to set me off.
“Which one of you assholes thought that was a good idea?” I accuse all three of them.
“It was a mutual decision, one that wasn’t made easily,” Grim continues, his voice calm.
I flick off the burner on the stove, no longer in the mood for hot chocolate. “So, let me get this straight. You three were charged to be my guardians and thought the best way to do that was to dis-a-fucking-ppear from my life. Only, this idiot almost gets himself killed and somehow ends up bleeding to death on my bedroom floor.”
My statement doesn’t really require an answer, but Gunnar gives me a resounding, “Yes,” with a head nod included just in case I don’t get the verbal reply.
“I wish I drank, ‘cause I could use something right now.” I glance up to the ceiling, asking for patience. “Okay, let’s come back to that idiocy in a minute. Tell me why I need guardians.” I plant my hands behind me on the counter.
“Well…” Calix looks at the others. “Well, you see, you could think of us like family.” He winces as he says “family”, and his palms flip up as if he’s at a loss for words.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fucking hell, so you guys are like my dads or brothers or some shit?” I can’t even look at them. I’m going to have to accept the fact that I’m a twisted bitch.
Several noes resound through the room, some louder than others.
I peek up through my fingers. “I think I need to sit down.” I walk away then, expecting them to follow.
I drop into my cushy sofa, ignoring the fact that Calix had his hand up my shirt in this room less than twenty-four hours ago.
“Has anyone ever told you that you guys suck at this? I mean, really, who put you in charge of being my guardians? Seems kind of irresponsible.” I purse my lips to show my distaste.
“Guardians are appointed when a soul decides to be born on this plane,” Grim states, trying to rein in the conversation.