Reckoning Page 0,7
yellow crackle. His eyes ran with orange sparks, and his expression was such serene contentment it was hard to believe he was the same creature who’d been almost-eight feet of unstoppable Broken werwulf.
Now there was a thought I didn’t want. Could he change into his wulf form now? And once he did, could he come back?
Don’t borrow trouble, Dru.
“I’m not complaining,” Graves added hurriedly. “Can I help?”
“You can check the icebox.” I pointed with one of Gran’s old wooden turners. “If it’s working, load the stuff from the cooler in there and put the cooler on the porch. And don’t bitch if you don’t like scrambled eggs; that’s all I’m making.”
“Won’t bitch. Scout’s honor.” He gave me a fey grin, green eyes lighting up. “Well, I was never a scout. Couldn’t afford it. But still.”
Well, ain’t we cozy. I was beginning to get whiplash, he was going back and forth so fast between hating me and actually seeming to think I was okay. “I kind of wanted to be one too, but they don’t take girls.”
“What about Girl Scouts?” He opened up the ancient, tiny fridge and stuck his hand in. “Looks like it’s working. This is really cool.”
“Girl Scouts have great cookies. But too many girls. I don’t get along with girls.” Except Nat, and she probably hates me now. I poured pancake batter, heard a satisfying sizzle, and poked at the bacon. Considered cracking some eggs, decided to leave them for last. “I guess I never will.”
“There’s time. I don’t get along with chicks either. Well, except you. You’re, like, the only girl I’ve ever met who isn’t . . .”
Maddeningly, he stopped. I was too tired to even wonder what I wasn’t. There was a long list of things I wasn’t, starting with cute and probably finishing up somewhere near lovable.
I brushed my hair back, wishing my ponytail would hold. Tomorrow I’d find some string and braid it up.
Braiding made me think of Nathalie at the Schola Prima again. I’d gotten along with her just fine, until I’d been a total bitch. Granted, I’d been getting ready to go rescue Graves . . . but still.
The longing to see Nat, her sleek head tilted to the side and her wide cat-tilted blue eyes considering an outfit or the mess my hair had become, shook me right down to my bones. I sniffed, wiped at my nose with the back of my hand, and turned the pancakes. Graves busied himself loading up the fridge. Ash rocked back and forth in front of the stove, humming tunelessly. Graves carried the cooler out on the front porch, and when he didn’t come back, I figured he was lighting another cigarette.
The way things were going, I might almost take up smoking myself. Dad would’ve killed me for even thinking about it.
But he was dead. He’d never take me up about anything ever again. My throat was sore, something stuck in it, but I just cleared it a few times and concentrated on cooking.
The ancient Folgers can for coffee grounds, eggshells, and vegetable scraps to go in the compost heap was rusted but still sound. I tossed the eggshells in and had a plate together in a trice. “Ash! Come on. Take this to the table. Graves, get him a plastic fork, and one for you too.” I felt like Gran, hollering from the kitchen.
“You gonna eat?” Graves ambled back in, his chin set stubbornly and his eyes dark. Almost black.
I looked back down at the skillets, the pop and fizzle of bacon filling my head for a moment.
“Yeah,” I lied. “But there’s work to be done first. Come on, you two. Tuck in.”
The wide loft held Gran’s big four-poster and my smaller corn crib, and the mattresses reeked of mildew even though we’d wrapped them in plastic. But the quilts, packed in mothballs and plastic, were still good. The moths hadn’t gotten at them at all.
I meant to carry my brand-new sleeping bag downstairs after a while. I thought if I sent the boys up to get settled and gave them enough time, they’d be out cold and I’d be able to sneak my bag downstairs and stretch it in front of the door.
Plus, there were things to do to close the house up for the night. I finished by warding the walls again, watching the faint blue lines running through the wood take on fresh life. They didn’t need to be redone so much as refreshed, and it was amazingly