Chapter 37: Morning Calls

Making phone calls to everyone you know telling them you’re going to be out of the picture for a while is a journey, let me tell you.

My reputation probably exacerbates it. I’ve never been adventurous. I’m not a stick in the mud, but I’m no hop-on-a-greyhound-and-ride wild child either. The people I’ve known for my past four years of college know this. I get away with contacting a number of them via email, which is good. The few phone calls I felt obligated to make didn’t go well.

“Lydia.” Mrs. Applegate, the woman who set me up for tutoring microbiology, sounds almost distraught. “This isn’t like you. Are you sure everything is alright?”

My leg is bouncing up and down so aggressively that I’m surprised I’m not vibrating the floor. I haven’t left the room Easton led us to yesterday—one thing at a time. Honestly I probably won’t drag myself out of here until I get so hungry there’s no helping it.

Besides. William really wore me the fuck out.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “And I’m really sorry. Some personal things came up that I have to deal with. I may have to take a leave of absence for the rest of the semester.”

She sounds exasperated. “Lydia, you were only a few months from graduating.”

The reminder makes me grind my teeth. I haven’t really had the wherewithal to consider just how obtrusive this whole situation has been to me. I feel a wave of looming frustration, but I exhale and let it bleed back out of me. One thing at a time. Just one thing at a time.

“Again, I’m sorry. I’ll let you know when something changes. I’ll keep in touch. Thank you, professor.”

I hang up before she can protest further, grimacing as I do. It feels rude, but it’s necessary. She’ll just keep pushing otherwise, and I don’t have the creativity to bullshit any more about my situation.

There’s a knock at the door, and I stiffen, setting my phone down. The pan flute is on the table beside me, and my fingers almost twitch towards it. I haven’t seen the woman since that time in the car, and part of me is starting to doubt my memories in that department. I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind.

But for some reason I like having the flute near me, so I won’t question it for now.

“Yes?” I call.

“I’ve brought you coffee,” comes William’s familiar voice from the other side. “And the rest of the clothes from the hotel.”

I laugh under my breath. “Good. I need a new shirt. Someone ruined my last one.”

The door opens a crack and the incubus slips inside. I watch him carefully as he moves about, taking him in. The color of his eyes are solidly green now, unchanging, and his hair is that coiled red I saw in the Aether. Everything else about him is still distinctly Hallowsworth—his facial features, his body. But I took a look at that photo I snapped of him way back in my apartment. I’m not just losing my mind. He started off as a brunette.

“Hey,” I say as he sets the coffee down. Two mugs, one for each of us, mine swirled with cream. “Question.”

“Mmm?” He claims the second, empty chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Somewhere he must have scrounged up some clothing. Nice clothing. As in, three-piece-suit nice. He’s even wearing a tie.

It gives me pause. I stare at him for a moment, long enough that the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement.

“You don’t shapeshift, do you?”

“…Not what I imagined you would say,” he replies. “No, not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?”

I frown. That niggling at the back of my head from the night before comes rising back to bite me. I don’t answer right away—instead, I pick up the coffee and give it an experimental sip. “Don’t know,” I answer. “I guess you just look a bit different than I remember you.”

“Different how?” He studies me. I can feel him probing softly at my thoughts, but he’s not nearly as up close and personal as he was last night. Which I’m grateful for. I don’t think I could stay like that for long. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but I’ve always been a somewhat private person. William got a look at things I probably haven’t told anyone but my closest friends.

“You, uh…” I begin. Then my phone starts to buzz aggressively on the table, and I pluck it up, bringing it to my ear and mouthing an apology to him.

“Lyds?” Nathan’s voice comes through crisp and clear.

“Yeah. I’m alright, Nathan.”

He lets out a long, relieved sigh. “Thank God. Listen, I just want it on record that I don’t like any of this. I don’t think you should be over there.”

I sigh. “I told you why I have to do this on the car ride over to meet with the Templars. The Archive’s the only shot I have at getting all this bullshit under control. I’m sorry, but there wasn’t another option.”

“Why not?” He presses. “Listen, Lydia, these folks over here—I’ve been watching them. There’s a lot of them. They’ve got quite a bit of manpower from what I can tell, and they’re a hell of a lot less shady than that Archive is.”

I laugh. “You realize you’re talking about a church, right?”

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There’s no laughter in return. “Yeah. So you should consider just how bad that place must be for me to hold the Order up as an alternative.”

Reaching up, I run my hand through my hair, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to just stick around for a week, Nathan,” I say, keeping my words gentle. “God knows you’ve got shit to do.”

“I do, yes,” he agrees. I can tell he’s getting aggravated, but I don’t hold it against him. I would be too in his shoes. There’s a pause, before I hear him loose another sigh. This one the sort that consists mostly of hot air. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to give you more stress, Lydia. But you need to think long and hard about what you’re doing and who you’re siding with.”

“…Did they tell you something more after the meeting yesterday?” I ask. “Did Jessica or Dakota…”

“Dakota’s been telling me some shit,” he offers. “Trust me, I’m taking what he tells me with a grain of salt, all things considered. But even with that, the Archive doesn’t sound…safe.”

William sets down his own mug of coffee. He holds his hand out towards me, the tips of his fingers slightly curled. “May I?”

Dressed up like that, you may do whatever you want, I think. Then I grimace, ignoring the way his lips quirk upwards at the corners, certain that he heard me. I nod.

“Nathan, William wants to talk with you for a sec.”

“Fine by me.” There’s no small amount of steel in my friend’s voice. I knew he wasn’t entirely on board with going in to save the incubus—something I can’t really fault him for—but I guess I didn’t realize just how bad the rift was.

William accepts the phone and puts it to the side of his face.

“Nathan?”

I can’t hear the response, but I watch, my lips pressed into a thin line.

“I understand. But I need you to know something.” A pause. “I will not let anything happen to Lydia Grace. I will do everything in my power to assure her safety—and that is a considerable amount of power.”

Coming from anyone else, that line would strike me as egotistical, but coming from William it sounds more like simple fact. He’s a bit different this morning. His posture was always straight, his demeanor confident enough, but it’s as though something has taken it up a notch. And while I’d like to pat myself on the back and say it was because of the sex, I doubt it.

It’s something else.

William nods. “I do give you my word.” He pauses again, listening, and I find myself itching to know what Nathan is saying to him. I probe at the bond between us, but I still can’t quite keep up with his thoughts with the same clarity that he can mine. Then the incubus smiles, sliding his eyes to me. There’s a gentle look in them, one that makes my insides melt. “And I as well,” he murmurs. “Take care, Nathan. We need to be going.”

He pulls the phone away from his ear and ends the call.

“…Do we need to be going?” I ask, standing from my seat.

“You can finish your coffee first,” he replies, gesturing towards the mug. “Though I’d recommend maybe putting on a shirt, or neither of us will be leaving this room anytime soon.”

The once-over he gives me is suggestive, and I feel my face turn bright red. “Where’s the shirt?”

William nods towards the wardrobe nearby, taking his own mug back into his hands. “They’ll start you off slowly today, I suspect. Maybe show you some of the grounds, give you a tour of the less objectionable parts of the compound. Nothing that will be taxing, but you’ll still need to be on your guard.”

“Got it.” I reach into the wardrobe, stopping at the shirt hanging inside. It’s a pretty silk blouse, dark purple, with golden buttons. Lovely, even if it’s not my style. I take it out and slip it on, then notice a pair of sleek black dress pants. I opt to put those on as well.

“Shoes in the bottom,” he advises, never taking his eyes off me. He’s not leering though. I get the sense William is thinking about a million different things at once, staring into space. I just happen to be in the space he’s staring in.

“…How did you know my size?” I pull out the shoes—a pair of smart black flats. Sure enough, size seven and a half. I slip them on and give my toes an experimental wriggle.

“Lucky guess,” he answers. I don’t buy it, but I don’t question it either. Shoe size is the least of my concerns, especially after what he got a load of yesterday. On that thought, I finish dressing and turn towards him.

“Listen.” I move closer, lifting my hands. “I hope last night…”

“Was wonderful,” he offers. “I hope the same is true for you?”

I laugh. “Well you’ve ruined sex for me, so there’s that.”

He smiles. The expression looks thoroughly pleased. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, continue.”

“Right.” I clear my throat. “I mean, you saw a lot of pretty personal things. I hope they don’t make you think any less of me.”

His brows pinch. He looks almost disgruntled. “Why on earth would they?”

“I just.” My lips press together for a moment, pinched. “You’re what, hundreds of years old? I imagine it probably put in perspective just how much…less…than you are I am. The kinds of trivial things I’m bothered by.”

“Your father leaving you is not trivial, Lydia,” he says, his words so soft I almost can’t hear them. “Your mother’s verbal abuse is not trivial.”

I feel a sting behind my eyes, but I swallow it down. I’m not in the mood to get all weepy today. “I just mean, if you ever have something you want to tell me about. Anything you want to share with me that you need help with like that, you can show me. You know? I realize I may not be as equipped to handle it, but…”

“You cannot quantify pain,” he interjects. “You cannot measure it. You cannot weigh it out on a scale. Yours is no less poignant than mine.” He opens his mouth as if to continue, but stops and glances down at his wrist. A gilded watch sits there, quietly ticking away. Where did he get all of this shit? I didn’t get the impression the Archive and him were on the best of terms, certainly not enough that they’d dress him up to be on the cover of GQ.

What if he’s part of the sale’s pitch? comes the thought. He led you here, after all. He’s the one who dragged your ass across state lines.

I shake my head. No. I know damn well it’s not that simple. I’ve felt hints of how William feels about me. I know that he cares, at least on some level. And the way he told me to run earlier, while I was in that alleyway…to do whatever I needed to do to survive…

You think a centuries-old demon can’t act? Can’t put on a good show?

I suck in a breath, watching him carefully. He doesn’t give a hint that he’s caught wind of the direction my thoughts have gone. I’m grateful for that. I’m ashamed of them, truth be told. I shove that nugget of doubt down deep, ignoring the way it settles in my gut like a stone. A week. I have one week, and it’s not like people don’t know I’m in here. I’ve got a failsafe. A backup plan, one my best friend is a part of.

Worse comes to worse, I just walk out of here with a shattered heart. No big deal.

“Lydia,” William begins, no doubt sensing something is off. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about. It concerns…”

There’s a knock at the door, and it makes me grind my teeth together. Really? Now? Can I not finish a single damn conversation?

“Miss Grace?” Easton’s voice comes through bright and chipper. Morning person. Definitely a morning person.

Those sorts can never be trusted.

“Yeah, I’m up. Need something?”

“I was hoping to get the first part of your tour underway, assuming you’re ready?”

I turn back to study William, nodding once and muttering, “Might as well get it overwith. Put a pin in this?”

He gives me a nod and a bright, warm smile that makes my earlier thoughts feel even more traitorous. Then he gestures towards the door and steps up beside me, placing a warm hand against the small of my back.

“After you.”