Page 26 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
“Maybe?”
I swallow down what I want to say.If they let us.That’ll just set Dane off.
Better to cut him off now before he can really dig his heels in. I swing around to Otto, who’s been studiously avoiding looking at any of us.
“Somewhere to wash up?”
Otto opens his mouth, but Mason interrupts him before he can tell me where to go.
“I have somewhere,” he says, voice sly, and I don’t know why he’s taking that tone, but I’m not impressed.
Something about his smile tells me he knows that. Can I read him that well already, or is he just showing me what he wants me to see?
“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Dane snarls, but I slam the end of my bat on the ground to cut him off.
“I have brains on my fuckingface,” I snap. “I’m going to wash up, and then I’m going to sleep. All right?”
Dane glares at me, but I really am too tired for this. At least we ate while we were out and about today. Being hungry would only make things worse.
“Go, Isaac,” Rae says, and her tone brooks no argument either. Blake has wandered over, circling us all like some kind of angry beast. “We’ll take the watches tonight. You can sleep through.”
We both know I won’t do that. I nod all the same and grab my bathing stuff out of my pack before I leave the pack by Otto’s side. He’ll keep it away from Blake, but I think Callum’s unwavering presence has him and Dane on edge anyway.
Mason leads me to that little door, which is open now, candlelight spilling out into the church. It’s grown dark since we’ve come in, and Mason grins over at me.
“I’ll go first, shall I?”
I wave him on. He huffs but descends the spiral staircase in front of me, each narrow, crumbling step steady under his feet. I juggle my shower bag into the crook of my arm where I’m holding my bat so that I can cling to the metal banister as we go.
I see no one when we reach the base, and we must be ten or fifteen feet underground now. There are lights in the distance, but Mason leads me to the right, down a narrow, draughty corridor.
“They’re not catacombs,” he says, “so you won’t find any bodies down here.”
“Right.”
“We’re not sure if they were dug out during the war. Maybe not. Not a lot to bomb around here.”
“Does it make a difference?” I’m not being terse. I’m just so tired.
Ahead of me, Mason shrugs. “Probably not.”
He takes me to a small room, obviously his, with a narrow bed and shelves crammed with knickknacks that spill over onto the floor. Another, smaller room is connected to the first, with no door, the walls and floor all made of stone.
“Might not be the kind of working bathroom you’re used to,” he says, “but it should be fine for cleaning up.”
He’s not wrong, though there’s a toilet in the corner. Someone must have dragged a table in here at some point, and there’s a steaming bowl of water atop it. A mirror’s been hung on the wall,too, and all in all, it’s not the worst place I’ve cleaned up since I started going out on jobs.
I grabbed clothes, too, but a glance to my right tells me that Mason hasn’t moved. He’s shut the door to his room—though not quite all the way, which makes me feel a little better—and he leans against the archway that leads to the not-bathroom, not even bothering to look abashed when I glance over at him.
“You don’t have to watch.”
“What if you were somehow injured? Your team would never forgive me.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s going to injure me? The water?”
He comes into the room with me, and with the low ceiling, he’s an imposing presence as he moves to my side. He dips his fingers in the water and mock winces. “You’re right,” he says, “that might be too hot. I suppose you’ll have to wait a while.”
“Like fuck I’m doing that,” I mutter. I finally put my bat down, though on the table, where it’s within reach, and well, if Mason wants a show, I suppose he can have one. Not like I have the energy for much else anyway and if he starts to piss me off, I can just hit him a few times. I think he’ll get the message.
