Page 25 of Bloody Bargain
“It’s our young couple’s suite,” she sighed, hand and rag on hip. “Lovely view towards the road into the village. And the water pressure is alright. You’ll share the W.C. with the blue room down the hall.”
She motioned to a restroom behind an old, solid wood door. There was a new brass lock on the handle. My guess was that it had originally been a key hole large enough to see through.
“Tea is always available downstairs, and you can use the kitchen for light cooking. Do you need a knock up in the morning?”
“No, I think we’ll be happy to sleep in,” I assured her, glancing at D’abel for effect. She gave me a wink.
“Iawn, iawn.Name’s Owena, if you happen to call for me. Get settled in and when you come down next, we can sort your deposit and that.Mwynhewch!”
She closed the door with a hush behind her, and we remained standing there in silence until her house slippers shuffled down the hall. When the creak of the stairs faded off, I sat down heavily on the bed, knees aching from days of hard hiking. D’abel set my duffel by my feet and I unzipped it with an exhausted, cold-nosed sniff.
D’abel hadn’t stopped staring at me since we entered the room, and the weight of his attention was immense. The room was cozy and altogethertooprivate. From the heathlands to this, D’abel’s presence suddenly felt suffocating. I’d regretted our deal every time I thought about it, but this time… Let’s just say the bed didn’t help now that I knew what I’d really agreed to.
“Myn chalishas more illusory talent than I’d assumed. Truthfully, I thought you were a dud,” D’abel observed, breaking the silence.
I sighed a snort of numb amusement, too exhausted to really engage. “Being antisocial is suspicious.”
“And you are in pain.”
The implication was clear–exchange blood with me–but there was no point in engaging. If it were up to D’abel, I bet we’d have sucked eight pints out of each other by the first light of dawn. I wasn’t so eager to give upmyn ghost,though, so all he could do was sit there and be the pretty fiend encyclopedia I thought I’d signed up for.
“Nothing a hot shower and meal can’t fix,” I said, toeing off my boots with a groan. I set them by the coil heater and turned it on, laying out a new pair of socks on the vanity stool nearby. When I was done with my shower, they’d be nice and warm. Change of clothes and toiletries in hand, I slid past D’abel. “Stay here. I’m going to take a shower.”
“A shower?”
“I’m going to bathe.”
I got into the bathroom, locked both doors, then tossed everything in my arms into the dry sink. I leaned against it like it was life support.
The mirror was small, a medicine cabinet with the reflective mercury coating peeling away at the edges to a muddy green beneath the glass. It was a romantic little touch, with an antique wooden frame and a potpourri pouch hanging from a hook next to it.
My reflection was an abomination to the rosy little room. I had large circles under my eyes, the hollowed expression of a trauma survivor, and the telltale strangeness of not recognizing myself in the mirror anymore. My wavy hair was knotted, bangs plastered to my face and neck in oily clumps. Dirt filled every crevice of my skin, my nails, and cuticles.
I turned away, leaning my hip against the sink, and peeled off my long sleeve shirt. It landed on the toilet lid with a damp flop. My socks and jeans came next. My skin crawled with an itch that spoke of several unaccustomed days without water or soap. As the showerhead sputtered on and hot water filled the room with steam, I forgot about the ache in my legs, anxiously trying to get my underwear and bra off.
I couldn’t get under the spray fast enough. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash were already stocked on the shelves. Abandoning my own modest supply on the countertop, I closed the marbled glass door behind me and just stood, breathing in the heat as the cascade of scalding water poured life back into my bones. The water washed the heathlands away and pounded on the muscles in my shoulders. Although I had bruises from my pack, it was a welcome tenderizing.
Owena hadn’t lied during her tour; the water pressure was exquisite.
I took a deep breath, filling my chest with steam, and breathed out. I’d made it across the hills. I’d killed two.Four,actually, if you counted D’abel’s help. And I’d survived. I smiled to myself, a big glorious smile and lifted my face to the water. I would be able to hunt the next one. And if it took me down, that was fine, as long as I took it with me.
Twenty minutes later, I turned the water off. I’d shaved my legs with a cheap bottle of conditioner, combed my hair, washed my face. My nails were clean for the first time in almost four days. When I slid a new pair of underwear up my smooth legs, it felt like heaven.
After I’d donned a plain black ribbed tank top and grey sweatpants, I looked in the mirror. It had unfogged now, the cracks under the doors tall enough that air had escaped quickly into the adjoining rooms. Although I was still gaunt, there was new life in my eyes. I recognized a little of myself, and that gave me hope.
Then reality came crashing down. I opened the door to my room and found D’abel standing there as if time hadn’t moved. I’d forgotten he was with me, as if the heathlands had been a dream.
“Feeling renewed, my lady?”
I grimaced at the term, tossing my towel a little harder than necessary into the corner.
“Your turn.”
D’abel’s eyes flicked to the bathroom.
“There is a laconica in that little room?”
I squinted at him. “I don’t know what a laconica is… I’ll just show you.”
