Page 17 of Eldritch
Swiping up the lantern from the table beside him, he pushed up from his chair and strode back toward the door in the floor. A long creak of the old wood had him clenching his teeth, and he glanced back to make sure the sound hadn’t awakened Maevyth where she lay beside the hearth. Aside from some minor stirring, she appeared to remain sleeping, and he stepped down into the crawl space that stood about two meters in height, ducking low to avoid the ceiling of it.
The air below was significantly colder, far too cold for a human. While Aleysia didn’t appear to be infected, at least not in the same sense as the creatures outside the window, that cold should’ve killed her, for as long as she’d been down there.
He positioned the lantern over something he’d noticed earlier in the afternoon. Long, deep grooves scored in the wood, as if something had tried to claw its way out. He placed his fingers against them, trying to imagine how hard he’d have to dig his nails into the wood to leave such a mark.
Twisting around brought into view a weathered wooden chest without a lock. He crouched and opened it on a quiet creak, but found nothing but clothes and worn boots inside. Beyond the chest stood a rickety old shelf that reached the top of the crawl space and held a few scattered jars of canned food, some broken and empty on the floor. He strode closer, the crunch of glass under his boots bringing him to a halt, and he knelt beside a strange black substance that’d dried into the wood. When Zevander angled the light closer, the stain left behind absorbed into the flooring.
Disappeared before his eyes.
Frowning, he stared down at it, wondering if he’d imagined it there. Maybe a shadow?
“Everything okay?” Maevyth asked from behind, and Zevander swung around to find her peering down on him.
“Found a treasure chest of clothes and a small trove of food. Might get us through the next few days.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She lowered herself to the floor and dangled her legs over the edge of the crawlspace. “I couldn’t bear the thought of her leftover stew for days on end.”
Abandoning his examination of the markings on the floor for now, he eyed an interesting discovery on the second shelf and grabbed two bottles of wine from there. He handed one of the bottles to her, smirking as her brows lifted in surprise.
“That sneaky old witch…she swiped these from grandfather’s cellar.”
Zevander noticed the dark circles forming beneath her eyes, exhaustion weighing on her. “Why are you awake?”
“I’m finding it difficult to sleep. Are you still angry with me?” She kicked her feet and lowered her gaze.
“I was never angry with you.” Zevander pushed out of the crawlspace and sat on the floor beside her. Even if he had been angry in the moment, she made it impossible to stay that way. “You’re going to be exhausted by the time she wakes. Then it’ll be you sleeping for the days that follow.”
“So, youdothink she’ll wake.”
“Eventually.”
“And if she’s bound by a blood spell?”
“These are the mortal lands. If she’s tied to another life, the chances of that person surviving are slim. I suspect she’ll wake soon enough.”
Maevyth sighed, and he couldn’t help but stare at her profile. Even weighed down by little sleep and worry, she was unbearably beautiful. “I don’t wish death on anything, but I certainly wish things would hurry along.”
Zevander chuckled. “I see my selfish apathy toward others is rubbing off on you.”
“I onlywishthat it wouldhurryalong to its demise. I never said I’d burn down an entire world for one person.” She gave a shy glance toward him, a coy smile playing on her lips. “That would mean you’d perish, as well.” The smile faded and she lowered her gaze.
“What is it?”
“The thought of such a thing terrifies me.”
He reached out and pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“To be fair, your chivalry, however dark and morbid and brimming with lunacy it may have been, warmed my heart. No one has ever offered to destroy the world for me.”
“I’m nothing if not fiendishly and soullessly chivalrous.”
She chuckled, and Zevander’s own heart gnawed at his ribs to kiss her. To let her scratch and push and try to resist him. Gods, he could practically taste her lips.
Brows lowered, she glanced back at the pile of blankets beside the hearth. “I can sleep on the floor, if you’d prefer the bed.”
The words bit into his heart with sharp fangs. The idea of them sleeping apart left him fighting the urge to sweep her up into his arms. Part of him wanted to tell her she was sleeping with him whether she wanted to, or not, but he knew she was too damned stubborn to simply follow his demands. Forcing her close would only push her away. “I insist that you have the bed. I’ll likely sleep out here, where I have a better watch of things.”
“You are forever the vigilant guard, always keeping watch. When do you manage to rest?”
