Page 80 of The Quiet
Her body still rested peaceably in the wake of their passion, warm, and open and trusting. Each time he loved her, he transformed her and staring into the darkness she was painfully aware that she no longer recognized herself.
Samual’s casual explanation from the evening pushed into her mind, and she realized that he’d spoken of Lambspeak’s arrival as if it could not be avoided. Furthermore, he’d warned about feeding the Strike more than just fear, and it had not felt like a general statement. It had felt like a warning made specifically for her.
Ella searched the room of the cottage, the single room in the single cottage that Paris had prepared for them. She sat up slowly and leaned against the headboard behind her.
Paris was nudging them together. She’d suggested it from the start and had been so presumptuous in giving them this shared space. But had it been presumptuous?
Ella looked down at Jackson.
Here she was, lying in bed with him, living with him, all but completely infatuated with him.
Her heart began to race and she swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. What for a moment had just been a dream quickly became a nightmare. They were preparing the way for Lambspeak as if he were a certainty, and so often Strike had their muses, their favorites, their slaves. Was she also being prepared as a certainty?
Samual had warned her about feeding the Strike. Would feeding it be her burden to bear? The way Lambspeak had described it, described himself, his feelings, his attachment to her, it had seemed so.
It was hard for her to breath, Ella grabbing the covers and pulling them up toward her chest.
Jackson stirred beside her, Ella nearly jolting as he took her fists in the warmth of his large palms.
“Ella,” he whispered her name, calling to her in the darkness like an invitation back to the present where he now rested. “Come back,” he said.
She nodded stiffly, not wanting to explain herself the version of this man who was anything but a Strike. She curled back under the covers as he pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms.
“The future is uncertain,” he whispered in her ear, always seeming to have an uncanny sense of her worries, even if it was vague. His words settled her instantly like a kind of magic.
She nodded again and closed her eyes, feeling his body flush to hers, she was safe again, at least for a moment.
†††
Months passed peaceably. Lambspeak never fully appeared. No signs of Peter were seen.
Life was perfect.
Perfect.
Ella repeated the word in her mind, over and over again. She was back at the shrine in the town center, children playing in the streets again as families perused nearby stands. The sun was out, the air light with a kind radiant positivity that seemed to only come with the springtime. Ella and Jackson had gone into town for lunch and were sitting in the afternoon sun.
“Do you want them?” Jackson asked, stroking her hair. It was an affectionate gesture, but also a call, a small and subtle touch that helped ground her when he saw her mind drifting.
She realized she’d been staring at the kids, and Jackson, knowing she was drifting off, was using it as an opportunity to prod her.
“Kids?” she asked. In the strange, romantic delirium she swam in, she’d thought about it, and that didn’t scare her any longer.
She’d accepted by now that she was in love with him, and it came with every array of strange ideas she hadn’t considered in a long time.
In a place where everything moved slowly, relationships seemed to move faster. Work, school, time itself passed with such laziness that the most natural thing in the world seemed to be cultivating friendships or having a family.
Her? With a family? No longer having to hunt Madness? Just…children? She thought she’d disconnected from the simplicity of such dreams. She blamed Jackson for their resurrection.
She looked over at him accusingly and saw that same, wide grin he returned any time she offered a threatening glance or gesture.
“You want them, millions of them, I already know it,” she concluded with false grimness. She was convinced he’d die without being completely surrounded by people. There likely wasn’t a naturally better suited man out there to handle the crowded noise and relentless energy of toddlers. Children were drawn to him, and if he didn’t have his own, she was convinced he’d adopt every available orphan. He might be inclined to do that anyway.
He grinned wider and propped his head up on one of his hands, watching her with a content and playful expression.
“You know, I was one of the top scouts for the Imperia?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I know,” he replied, expression unchanging.
