“Barricading yourself in,”he shrugged towards the chestof drawers, “is stupid. Have you forgotten why I’mhere?”
I deliberately let my jaw drop open asslowly as it could. “And why are you here, exactly? To make my lifehell?”
He snorted. Somehow he could make eventhat move attractive. “I’m here to keep you safe, to stave off thecurse so you can fulfill your end of the bargain.”
“Really? Because so far you’ve just insultedme and chased me around with a knife.”
He met my gaze and locked his jawtightly.
“And now you’ve broken into my room. Do youmind leaving?”
“Why? So you can cry into your pillow?”
Bam. He’d gone too far.
I pushed up from my bed, real slow. Thekind of slow that cannot be mistaken for friendly. “You know, Idon’t understand you. Sometimes you’re like this – a total friggingasshole. And sometimes you’re like that—” I gestured fruitlessly inthe direction of the bathroom.
“Like what?”
“Like—” I kept gesturing stupidly towards the wall. “You know, likethe bathroom.”
“Sometimes I’m like an asshole, andsometimes I’m like a bathroom. Ha. I can’t say I understand you,Chi McLane.”
I kind of paled and kind of flushed at the same time. “You know what Imean. You run hot—” I stopped myself just in time. Because this wasabsolutely the wrong analogy. I cleared my throat. “Look, just goaway.”
He didn’t pause this time.“No.”
I spluttered. “I told you to leave, nowleave. This is my bedroom.”
“I know it’s your bedroom, but I’m notleaving. Not when you’re like this.”
“Like what – pissed off? Unbelievably angryat what you said? Look, I know that I’ve… bent the truth in the past, but those were little white lies. Iwould never—”
“What? Dodge responsibility? Run away? Lienow so you don’t have to face something in the future?”
I just stopped myself from throwing mypillow at him. It was much more satisfying to hug it to my chestand hide behind it. “You are such a horrible man. What exactly wereyou back in Scotland, some kind of warlord? I bet you were somebrutal marauder who went from village to village—”
“You know nothing of my past,”he spat. His whole countenancechanged, morphed, became angry. I’d seen Max irritated before, butnothing like this.
I receded, suddenly extremely thankful formy pillow as I wrapped my arms around it as tightly as I could.
Silence. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I.
… But he was wrong. I did know somethingabout his past, or his magic at least. Every time I was close tohim – which seemed to be frustratingly often – I heard thosehooves, felt that grass, caught that far-off angry shout.
We continued to face each other in angrysilence, neither willing to start the argument again.He just stood there, simmering, those dark eyes evenchoppier than they usually were.
Me? I hugged my pillow like I reallymeant it,like I wanted to chop the damnthing in half and crush the stuffing within.
It took him to make the first move. Hetook a step forward then a step back. He drew in a deep breath andlet his shoulders deflate. Then he tilted his head up and faced meonce more. “None of this matters,” his voice was softernow.
I was struck by how much I liked that voice.It drew me in, kind of like the vocal equivalent of a soft griparound my wrist or an even softer embrace around my middle.
Though I desperately tried to tell mystupid mind to stop – as Max was a total asshole – I was startingto doubt that. Max, though obviously a jerk, wasn’t just a jerk. Heobviously had a history, a prickly one. One prickly enough that themere mention of it changed his personality and countenance atonce.
I was nosy. I knew this. My friends knewthis. Heck, anyone who managed to stand me long enough and hangaround me for more than a few hours soon picked up that I wasinquisitive. It came with the territory. Whenever I had the time, Ialways googled my clients, trying to find as much about their liveson social media so I could tailor their fortunes to them and makethem sound more legit.
But I’d never faced a mystery like this. Ireally doubted that a quick google of Max the Fairy would bringmuch up.
Nope. The only way to figure out who Maxreally was was to see this through.
Slowly, hesitantly, I let go of my pillow.Though a part of me still wanted to throw it at his head considering what he’d said to me, I restrainedmyself.
“So… what happens now?” I finally asked.
Max looked at me evenly. Or was it an even expression? Therewas an edge to it, wasn’t there? A curious one. Was Max the brutesuddenly pausing to reevaluate me? Perhaps I was turning out to beless of a brat than he’d imagined.
He briefly looked at hiscamel-colored leatherboots, then turned hishead up to face me. He nodded. “Now we wait.”
I scrunched my nose up. “Sorry, we wait?Isn’t there a murderer out there? What if he kills again?” My voicekicked up uncontrollably, showing the choppy emotion that stillswelled through my heart. Sure, Max had been a distraction – a heckof an irritating distraction – but I couldn’t forget what hadhappened in the bath.
I tried to swallow my fear as I waited forMax to answer.
“The police will track him down.”
My brow crinkled into a scrunched up line.“Sorry? It’s just that easy? But I’ve barely given them adescription—”
His eyes flashed, and I knew exactly what hewas thinking.
I hardened my jaw and brought up a hand,using my everything not to snap at him, I kept my tone even, “Ihave told you everything I remember. But surely it’s notenough?”
“Just go to bed, sleep it off, and we’lltalk in the morning.” With that, he turned on his foot and walked, not towardsthe chest of drawers blocking the door, but towards thewindow.
“Ah,” I spluttered, “You can use the door.”
“The window is fine,” he muttered as he was half way out. “Plus,you moved that heavy chest of drawers, and you can move it back.”With that less-than-chivalrous statement, Max the fairy jumped outof the window.
Before my heart could explode at theprospect that he would hurtle down to
