The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,10
Corr,” he said, extending his hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Remarkably okay, I think?” Instead of taking the offered hand, Keira stepped back, inviting him inside. “I just woke up, so I’m still taking stock, to be honest.”
He had to dip his head slightly to get under the doorframe, but the smile didn’t falter. “Sorry about that. I would have come at a more reasonable time, except Adage said you had a head injury and that’s not really something you want to ignore.”
“That’s fair. There’s, uh, seats and stuff if you want one.” Keira grimaced, but Mason either didn’t notice her awkwardness or tactfully ignored it.
He stopped in front of the wooden chair, put his briefcase on the ground, and patted the couch as an invitation for her to sit. “Adage also said you had some memory loss last night. How’s that doing this morning?”
“Still…lossy.” She shrugged as she sat. “I remember waking up in the forest. Nothing before.”
“Do you remember everything after that?”
“Yes.”
Mason nodded. “That’s good. I’d be more worried if the loss was ongoing. Mind if I have a look?”
Keira obligingly bent forward and pointed to her hairline, where the skin still ached. Mason’s fingers were unexpectedly warm and careful as he brushed her hair away from the mark.
“Odd,” he murmured, so quietly that she guessed he must be talking to himself.
“What is it?”
His piercing green eyes glanced over her, and she knew he saw everything in that one swoop: the tear in her jeans, the way her wrist bones protruded, and the mud still caked over her boots. He made a small noise of discontent in the back of his throat and rose. “I’ve been a terrible guest. You said you’d just woken up; you probably want something to drink.”
“Huh? No, I’m fine—”
Already at the kitchen, he threw her a smile over his shoulder. “Well, I’m getting myself something, so I may as well boil the kettle for two. What would you like? Tea? Coffee?”
His tone was nonchalant, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to lengths to be nice to her. Keira followed him into the kitchen. “Let me make the drinks.” She opened the closest cupboard, but it turned out to be full of dusty dishes.
A warm weight rested on her forearm, and she looked down to see his hand there. Mason gave a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. My dad and I used to visit Peterson, the old groundskeeper, so I know my way around. Why don’t you light the fire? It’s a brisk morning.”
Keira pulled away, her pulse unpleasantly fast, and crossed to the fireplace in two quick steps. She knelt, shoving fistfuls of kindling on top of the previous night’s ash, and poked fire starters underneath it.
She didn’t like being touched. She’d had the same reaction to Adage the night before when he’d tried to take her arm. And she thought she knew why. It had been a long time since she’d had any meaningful human contact. Possibly years.
She scrunched her mouth and glanced toward Mason. He was facing away, washing two mugs in the sink. Steam was already rising from the kettle’s spout.
Keira dropped more wood onto the growing fire. Part of her wanted to finish the visit soon. Mason would probably leave if she said she wanted to sleep for a few more hours. But at the same time, the idea made her feel horribly alone. Surrounded by monuments to the dead, in a house that wasn’t hers, she found she was grateful to have some company. Even if he’d only come as a favor to Adage.
“Keira?” Mason was standing by the counter, an old-fashioned tin raised in each hand, and rattled the containers. “Tea or coffee?”
“Uh…” She couldn’t remember if she had a preference. He might as well have asked her if she liked her eggs to come from dragons or sea lizards. “Why don’t you pick?”
Mason quirked his head. He was still smiling, but she sensed her answer concerned him. “Let’s try the tea first, and we can switch to coffee if you don’t like it. I didn’t think to bring milk. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
He popped open the lid on one of the containers and turned back to the cups. “Can you have a think back for me, Keira? Do you remember anything from your life?”
“No.” She’d already tried—multiple times. “Everything before last night is blank.”
“Hmm.” He dunked the tea bags several times then dropped them into the sink. Keira climbed onto her couch as he