Chapter 26: The Key is Communication

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My pillow is weirdly firm.

It’s warm, though. I like that about it. I grumble, still half asleep, wriggling to try and get more comfortable. Come to think of it, my pillow is especially warm. Do I have a fever? Is the thermostat in here cranked way high?

My eyes flutter. I register the heartbeat underneath my ear then, and I open my eyes fully, freezing in place as I gaze upwards.

William must have fallen asleep beside me, in spite of his assertion that he doesn’t really sleep. His chest rises and falls gently beneath my head. One of my legs has managed to curl itself between his, and one of his arms is looped around my waist.

Upside? He’s wearing pants.

Downside? He is not wearing a shirt.

I pull back, trying to be as silent as possible. I can’t get far - in spite of being asleep, he seems to have a weirdly firm grip on me. I guess he was serious about making sure I didn’t run off again. I try damn hard not to stare at his chest - it’s a fuckboy chest, I tell myself. Nobody looks like that unless they sleep around. But oh my god. Lucas’s body is exactly what I figured it would be: chiseled, with the kind of abs you could use for a washboard.

And listen, that’s still not my type, but my lizard brain is licking its lips anyway. I can’t help it.

I shift again, trying to figure out a way to worm out of his grip without waking him. “Fuck me,” I mutter to myself, twisting awkwardly and lifting my leg off of his.

“Was that an order?” he asks.

I yelp. He has one eye cracked open, and he’s watching me with amusement on his face. I’m trying to stop touching him - I can’t imagine he appreciates waking up and finding some strange woman clinging to him. Especially given his history…

My world whirls for a dizzying moment. I gasp, tensing up ramrod straight. I find myself pressed down into the mattress - the softness is the only thing that keeps the impact from hurting. My heart jumps into my throat, and I manage to get out: “No! Shit. Fuck. It wasn’t an order! I…”

“I know,” William interrupts me. I peer up at him tentatively. He has one hand braced beside my head. The other he still has curled around my waist, pressed against the base of my spine. “I was teasing you.”

“…Oh,” I reply dumbly. “Okay.”

“I just wanted to have a little chat about something,” he continues. He’s looking at me with amusement and some other emotion that I find hard to read. Annoyance, maybe? Irritation? I feel anxiety start building in my gut.

“…Okay,” I repeat, uncertain.

“You appear to have some mistaken notions about me, Miss Grace.” He gives me an arch look. “You’re behaving as though I’m made of glass.”

I furrow my brows at him, confused. “I don’t…”

“Dorothy Cain was an unmitigated bitch, it’s true,” he says, speaking over me. Usually that would frustrate me to no end, but I can tell he’s going somewhere with this so I make an exception. “But her treatment has not left me a fragile little flower. I am a demon, my dear. I have seen atrocities you cannot even imagine - and committed a great deal of them.”

I gulp. My heart picks up speed again, flying out of my throat to sink into the pit of my stomach. Where is he going with this? Maybe I should start making an exit plan…

William lowers his face down to mine. I go rigid, staring up at his eyes. I swear there’s more green in there than there was before, mingled in amidst the brown and gold. His breath is hot against my lips. I barely had a chance to register that kiss in the Aether - but it’s definitely not a bad memory. I don’t think I’d mind another one. But no, I could never…

“That,” he murmurs. “That is precisely what I’m referring to, Miss Grace. Why could you never? Hmm? Tell me.”

My throat goes dry. “I. I, um.”

“Because you think I am broken, yes?” He traces his fingertips along my cheek, then the sensitive skin of my ear. I suppress the urge to shiver.

“No!” I reply, mortified. “That’s not it at all! I just. I…”

He sighs. “Lydia,” he murmurs. “I do not hate women because of Dorothy Cain. I would never allow her to have that much power over me. Her or any of the others.” He smiles at me in that lopsided way of his. “I happen to think you’re a very lovely woman. So should you ever decide to release some…stress.” He runs his gaze down to my neck for a moment, his eyes lingering there. Then he brings them back up to meet mine. “Don’t hesitate to ask. Yes?”

I should be angry. I mean, who says I’m interested in him, right? But then it occurs to me: I do. Convention doesn’t really work when he can literally read my goddamn mind. I’m attracted to William - it’s the confidence, mostly. I mean, the physique certainly doesn’t hurt anything. And he did come find me in the Aether. Hell, he saved my life. Twice. Three times, if I count Mr. Darcy.

I reach out to him tentatively over the bond between us. I’m trying to be sneaky about it, but to be frank, I’m not sure what sneaky would even entail in this situation. I know he can tell what I’m doing, because he smirks at me, mirth crinkling at the corners of those frustratingly gorgeous eyes.

It feels like cheating to get a read on him this way. Maybe even a little insulting, like I think he’s lying to me. I can’t help it, though. It’s not that I think he’s weak. It’s more that I just couldn’t live with myself if I found out he was sleeping with me out of some sense of obligation. I…

Images pour into my head so abruptly I reel back, pressing deeper into the bed. Listen, as I’ve mentioned, I’m hardly virginal, but the scope of ideas that drift around William’s mind. Well. I get the distinct impression he’s been thinking about this for quite a while. I feel my face turn bright red, clenching my eyes shut and trying to disentangle us again so I can think straight. I hear him chuckle above me and the images vanish - snuffed out by him more than me.

“You did that to yourself,” he says wryly.

“I know,” I mumble.

“Perhaps you’ll learn to take me at my word.”

I take in a deep breath, then slowly open my eyes again. He’s staring at me with quiet intensity, the flecks of green in his eyes almost seeming to grow brighter.

After a moment’s hesitation, I say softly: “I wouldn’t mind another kiss.”

He blinks at that. His brow puckers, and an odd softness comes over his features. “You’ve had a very difficult week, haven’t you, Lydia?”

The kindness in his voice makes a ball of tears surge up my throat. I blink them back desperately. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean. So have you.”

“Mmm. But I’m accustomed to dealing with the things we’ve faced.” He brushes my hair from my brow, then slips his hand around to the back of my head. “I think you’re due for something sweet.”

This time, when he presses his lips to mine, I’m aware enough to really feel it.

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His mouth is soft. His breath has a scent to it, something that makes me think of freshly brewed tea. Vaguely minty. His thumb makes gentle circles in the spot behind my ear as he leans into me, pressing me into the mattress. My chest catches in a sob - not because I’m afraid of him, or because I don’t want this - I do. It’s just that I’ve been put through so much shit lately I think I started to forget about the good stuff. I forgot about this: being in somebody else’s arms.

People think intimacy is just a fancy word for sex, but they’re wrong about that. You can have sex without being intimate, and you can be intimate without sex. When William moves his lips up the side of my face and then lets them linger against my brow, the catch in my chest grows stronger, my breathing ragged and unsteady. When he murmurs against my skin: “It’s alright to fall apart,” his words are a blow that shatters the catch entirely, suffusing my body with all the stress and strain and sadness I’ve been holding at bay.

The memory of being chased by things wanting to consume me.

The thought of that darkness in the tunnel, reaching up to drag me down.

My mother’s voice, telling me that she hates me, knowing that she meant every word.

I let the tears come. It isn’t one of those pretty movie-star kinds of crying. My weeping is ugly and convulsive. William uses the arm looped around my waist to pull me in closer, rolling us onto our sides so he can tuck my head beneath his chin. He rubs my back, murmuring into my hair. Eventually, he stops using words and starts humming instead. It’s a beautiful song, whatever it is, like a lullaby. A few times I try to rise back out of the flood - I tell myself I shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not to someone who’s been through more shit than I could possibly imagine.

But those thoughts don’t linger long, and I get the impression he’s the one snuffing them out.

When I’m done, I’m spent. I suddenly feel tired again - completely exhausted, and it occurs to me that I wasn’t quite bright and chipper in the first place. I sag against William, feeling the firmness of him, the reassurance of his arms around me. One of his hands is tangled in my hair now, scratching idly at my scalp.

“You’ll need a few more days to recuperate,” he explains, preempting my questions. “I have some errands I’ll need to run. You’ll be safe - I’ll take the book with me, as I did before. But Lydia.”

He pulls back enough to look me in the eye.

“You need to stay here. Promise me that you will, alright?”

I peer up at him. I could probe, if I wanted to. I could try to dig around and find out what he’s planning to do. But if I’m honest, I really don’t want to. I want to trust him. Stupid as that sounds, I want to be able to trust this man. If I don’t come up with some kind of anchor point, I don’t think I can keep going. I need something steady and stable.

And William’s as good a pick as any at this point. At least he’s proven he doesn’t want to kill me.

“I’ll stay here,” I murmur. “I promise.”

He smiles warmly at me. He uses the pad of his thumb to brush some of the tears off of my cheek, then trails kisses over my face to clear away the rest. My eyelids flutter with each gentle touch.

“By the time you’ve rested up, I’ll have made contact with one of my experts. Started up talks to get things moving.” He pauses as if considering something. “It’s quite possible they’ll be interested in you in particular, Miss Grace. You should be aware of that ahead of time.”

I frown at him. “Why would they be interested in me?”

“Not everyone can do what you did during the attack with that creature,” he explains. “Change me, that is. Change the essence of a spirit. That’s a rare talent. Now that you’ve done it - now that your soul has wandered the Aether - you’ll be more…noticeable.”

I nervously lick my lips. “…Like. Noticeable how?”

William is obviously trying to figure out a way to word things carefully to avoid freaking me out.

Unfortunately, this only serves to freak me out even more.

“Creatures may be drawn to you,” he finally says. “I’ve set up precautions here to keep you safe, and drained as you are, nothing will be able to detect you in this state. But once you’re recovered, I want you to stay by me. Do you understand?” He studies my face carefully, trying to figure out if the gravity of his words has set in.

“And, uh,” I clear my throat. “Your expert friend? What’ll they do? I mean, if they can ‘sense’ me or whatever.”

He smirks. “Ah. I suspect they’ll try to recruit you.”

I squint at that. “Recruit me for what?”

“They’d be far better at telling you that much,” he replies. “I should hate to rob them of their sales pitch.”

I can’t say that answer sits right with me. William’s penchant for being cryptic is starting to get on my nerves.

Of course, he could just be trying to spare my feelings because I had a full meltdown two minutes ago. Let’s be fair, that’s probably what it is.

“…Fine,” I say, breaking the feeling of tension that’s insidiously risen between us. I see his shoulders relax, and for once I’m glad I let something go. “But I expect you to start being more forthcoming with information, alright? I mean, I know I just blubbered all over you and everything, but I’m not weak, William. I’m not.”

He looks at me soberly. “No,” he agrees. “You are not.”

I can tell he means it, and this satisfies me. I’ll let him squeak by for now.

Besides. Now that we’ve skirted the topic, something occurs to me that I should probably bring up.

“I, uh. When I…changed you. When I did whatever I did to help you fight that…thing.” I pause, licking my lips. “Well, first of all. It didn’t hurt you, did it? I wasn’t really sure what I was doing.”

He quirks a brow at me, propping his head on his palm. He makes lazy circles against my hip with his other hand. I don’t think he’s even conscious of doing it - physical contact seems to be remarkably casual for him. Not remarkably, I remind myself. Stop thinking about him that way.

“It did not hurt,” he says, slowly. “You simply enhanced a certain aspect of what I am. I suspect the creature you poured power into is what grants me my enhanced speed and senses. Thus those abilities are now more pronounced, while others have grown dim.” He lifts his fingers off of my hip for a moment, wriggling them slightly. “I can no longer levitate objects with my mind, for instance.”

“…Oh,” I reply. “Whoops.”

“Never fear. It is about balance, really. A spirit only has so much…potential, shall we say. So many aspects it can maintain.”

“Well you must have a lot of potential, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got five different aspects floating around in you.”

He pulls his head back at that, as if astonished.

“…What, is that a high number?”

“It is more than usual,” he answers slowly. “I admit most mortals I have been bound to do not usually communicate the particulars with me.”

“…Why not?”

He gives me an incredulous look. “Because they did not trust me. I suspect they also saw no need to explain themselves to what they perceived as a tool.” His tone is calm, but I’m attuned to him enough now that I can feel the anger simmering in him when he says those words.

I scowl. “Well we’re starting a new tradition. Besides, there was something I wanted to mention to you. There’s something in there, wriggling around. It…it looked like a black thread. I couldn’t quite get my fingers on it, though I tried to. I don’t know what it was, but I didn’t like the feeling I got from it. And every time I reached for it, it slipped away.”

William’s brows pinch together as he studies me, and I get the sense that he’s altogether confused. Trying to puzzle out what I’m referring to, yes, but also bewildered that I’m bothering to tell him any of this. I roll my eyes in exasperation.

“William. Listen. Whatever the hell is going on, we’re in it together. Right? So I’ll cooperate with you, and you’ll cooperate with me. That’s how I’d like to do this. If I learn something that could be potentially useful or harmful, I’m going to tell you about it. All I ask is you do the same for me.”

“Lydia,” he says, carefully. There’s a kind of pain in his words. “You must understand. I’m a…”

I shove lightly at his chest. I know it’s not enough to knock him over - I think he falls back more to placate me than anything. But I lean over him regardless, planting a hand between his collarbones.

“I get it. I do. You’re a demon. You’re terrible and you’ve done terrible things. I accept that. But listen, William. You haven’t exactly been operating under ideal circumstances. I’m not going to pretend I know everything about you, but I know enough. If you ask me, you’re a good guy who got dealt a shit hand. I can’t judge your circumstances because I can’t even begin to wrap my head around them. And I’m not going to grill you about them either, because that’s your story to tell. When you’re ready.” I take a deep breath, studying his face, feeling his reactions over the bond between us. “But. I mean, I like you. As a person. And once things are more stable, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little better.”

He watches my face, a mingling of pain and longing wafting from him. The pain is a deep throbbing, an ache I couldn’t begin to understand. The longing is its own kind of hurt, one that I want to reach out and soothe.

“You should be careful with your kindness, Lydia,” he says gently. “Not everyone is worthy of it.”

“Shit no they aren’t,” I say, and he blinks. “But you are. I’m afraid you haven’t proven otherwise yet. Until you do, consider this a rain check for a dinner date. I’d like to wine and dine you a little.” I pause. “Then, if you’re still feeling like it, I wouldn’t mind trying an idea or two you’ve got floating around in here.” I reach up and tap the space between his eyes. “Deal?”

He gives me a mischievous grin. “I don’t suppose you’d enlighten me as to which ones caught your eye?”

I grin back at him. “You’ll just have to find out.”

He feigns a pout at me, squinting at my own brow as if considering digging around for the information. I stick my tongue out at him, and he relents, holding up a hand in an assuaging gesture before chuckling and rising to his feet.

“Much as I’d love to continue this line of inquiry, I’m afraid I should start making my arrangements. You’ll be safe so long as you stay in this hotel - there’s a lounge downstairs, and a fully stocked bar.”

That surprises me. “Wait, really? In Iowa?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.

He shakes his head. “We’re in Chicago, Lydia,” he replies.

Chicago. I must have been out for hours. We drove through an entire state and I didn’t even notice. Jesus.

“Get some more rest,” he says, peering down at me. “I won’t be gone long.”

I almost ask him to stay until I fall asleep again - but I realize how absurd that request would be. Besides, like he said, he’s got things to do. Balls to get rolling, and I need to let him.

“Alright,” I say. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

I watch his back as he walks towards the door, and I don’t stop staring after him until it closes in his wake.