Witcher Upper - Amy Boyles Page 0,18
that until you see where you’re sleeping.”
“I’m following you.”
I watched Rufus as we got into my truck and kept a side glance on him while I drove. I cursed myself silently, wondering what had gotten into me. Why was I helping my enemy?
Because he’s not acting like it, maybe? Because he’s wounded, just like you, unsure of who he is and where he belongs?
Shut up, I told myself. We drove a little ways until we reached the old barn that we were converting for Dooley.
“My, my, my,” Rufus said as the truck tires rumbled over the gravel, “this will be a beauty when it’s finished.”
My jaw dropped. “When it’s finished?”
“It’s being renovated, right?”
“How do you know that?”
He winked. “I can see the freshly poured foundation from here, and the lumber. Is it yours?”
I cleared my throat, annoyed with his question. “No, but my company is the one doing it.”
“So you’re a businesswoman?”
I slammed on the brake and threw the stick into first and yanked the emergency brake. “That’s none of your concern. Now come on, let me show you where to sleep. It’ll be perfect.”
Rufus said nothing as he followed me from the truck.
I remembered a walk long ago, one where I followed him instead of the other way around. But that was a younger, naive me, not the confident woman I was now.
Then I realized that I had my back to him, and I whirled around. His gaze met mine with surprise.
“Yes, I’m still here,” he said.
“Hmm,” was all I replied.
“You look as if you don’t trust me.”
“I’ve never met you.”
“More the reason not to trust me, then,” he said, sidling up to me. “I doubt I’d trust me, either. A man shows up claiming not to know who he is? Sounds suspicious.”
This whole scenario had me screwed up and pinched in such a way that I didn’t know up from down.
“Just come on,” I said hotly.
“You don’t have to help me,” he said gently, too gently.
“I know that, but…” What was I going to say, that I wanted to? Total lie. The only thing I wanted was to keep Rufus from hurting anyone else.
“But your sense of Southern hospitality demanded that you assist a wounded wizard, is that it?”
He teased me and I wanted to punch him, but when I glanced over, I didn’t see the amusement in his eyes that I expected. Instead I saw sorrow in them.
“Yes,” I said numbly, “it’s because of my sense of hospitality or something.”
His gaze cut back to the barn. “I like what you’ve done so far.”
“It’s barely even begun,” I remarked. And since when did the leather-wearing Dr. Frankenstein wizard know anything about barn renovations? “The patch of hay is around back. That’s where you can sleep.”
Moonlight slashed through the holes in the roof that needed patching, illuminating the newly poured foundation. It gleamed under its celestial bath, suggesting that spots of it were still wet.
I started to walk around the barn when Rufus grabbed my arm. I instinctively yanked away.
He flinched but didn’t comment on my action. “Wait,” he murmured, staring into the barn. “What’s that?”
“Foundation,” I replied caustically.
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“That there.” Without my permission, Rufus stalked into the barn and knelt beside something.
I peered into the open doors and saw a shape in the foundation. Forgetting all about how much I hated Rufus and how it would be best if he didn’t exist, memory or no memory, I strode over, curious.
“What is that?” I said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t see this,” Rufus said, acting like he was one step ahead of me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pulled out my phone and snapped on the camera. “I can’t have animals coming in here and ruining the foundation. This will have to be done all over again.”
The light bathed the hump, revealing a pair of feet.
I screamed, dropping the phone. Rufus quickly retrieved it for me. With shaking fingers, I illuminated the body again. Two feet in high heels were embedded in the foundation. One of the heels had fallen off and I wanted to shut my eyes then and not see the rest, but I forced myself to look on.
The feet led to a knee-length skirt and pale pink cardigan, now smudged with concrete. A mess of tangled brown hair covered a face that was embedded in the foundation.
Rufus tenderly placed two fingers alongside the woman’s neck. “She’s passed and cold. It’s too late for