since the bedroom door is open and I left his cage open. I haven’t been able to play with him as much as I normally do, but luckily, he’s sleeping soundly tonight, or at least for now.
“You’re up.” Ethan comes into the room and closes the door behind him. He sets a glass of water on the nightstand. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” I say as he gets back under the covers. “I had another dream about having my wrists slit and bleeding out in the forest.” I sigh. “I’m fine.”
Ethan pulls me to him and I resituate, resting my head on his chest. “You feel hot,” I say, pushing up on my elbow and put my hand over his forehead. “You are hot. I’m going to take your temperature.”
“I’m fine,” he insists but then turns his head to cough.
“You didn’t take your antibiotics today, did you?”
“The wound is healed. I don’t need to anymore.”
Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I shiver as soon as I’m away from Ethan’s body heat. My thermometer is in the bathroom and there’s a good chance it’s out of batteries. I rustle through my very full medicine cabinet and find it. The low battery warning pops up, but it has enough juice to let me know Ethan has a fever.
“I’m going to get you some Advil,” I tell him and turn on the light. “Your scratches don’t look infected. Does your arm hurt?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Come back to bed and I’ll sleep it off.”
“It’s a fever, not a hangover, and if you’re coming down with something, it’s best to treat the symptoms right away so you can recover faster.”
“Hot water, a splash of lemon juice, half a teaspoon of cayenne pepper, and a shot of whiskey is the tried-and-true hunter cold remedy.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“It is, but it works.”
“In what sense? It sounds like a mix between a cleansing drink that clears you out and a Hot Toddy.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m getting you Advil.”
That hair standing up on the back of your neck feeling starts to settle on me, and I close my eyes, forcing my mental shields up as high as I can get them to go. Ethan sits up when I return with the medicine and sounds all stuffy. I know colds can hit you hard and fast, but for something to come on this all of the sudden, it’s more likely he has the flu.
“Thanks,” he says with a cough.
“Go back to sleep,” I urge. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but I kinda need you not to be sick so we can fight demons.”
“I’ll be fine in the morning,” he insists again, and we both settle back down. I rub his back until he’s asleep, and then roll over, trying to get comfortable so I can fall asleep, but I can’t turn off my damn mind.
I miss my friend, of course, but there’s something else nagging at me, and the feeling that I’m missing something glaringly obvious is starting to eat away at me as well. The creepy dreams, the ghost Ryan, the bird-demons, and the Pricolici…they’re all connected somehow. I just don’t know how. I roll back over, hooking my leg over Ethan’s and close my eyes. If Ethan has the flu, it’s only a matter of time before I get it. I need to sleep.
Aunt Estelle…if you can hear me, I could really use you—I sit up as the thought enters my mind. For years, Aunt Estelle has been sending me weird presents. I wonder if I’ll find them weird anymore. Careful not to wake Ethan, I pad out of the room, Hunter in toe, and go into the basement. It doesn’t take long for me to sort through the boxes in the storage room before I find the one I’m looking for. It’s too big and heavy to carry upstairs, so I drag it to the little clearing in front of my washer and dryer, sitting cross legged on the floor as I pull out random items.
“I remember getting this,” I tell Hunter as I pull a tattered and worn book from the box. It’s the size of a large chapter book, and the cover is sage green with no text or image on it. “I thought it was about creepy fairytale creatures and this pig-thing with fangs on the first page freaked me out. But it’s not about fairytales. It’s a book about demons.”