Rans had left the front door of the cottage open, but he hadn’t returned to check on me despite the fact that it was taking me a ridiculously long time to move.
Good, I thought viciously. I didn’t want him to come back. I was angry and confused and exhausted and in pain. I wanted to crawl into a fucking hole and never crawl back out.
I’d made a decision... taken action for once in my pathetic life, and done something to try and protect the people I cared about. What a shock that it had backfired on me, and might well have left those people in even more danger than before, right? And here I was, stubbornly not dead like I was supposed to be, which meant I was going to have to deal with the fallout of my actions.
But I couldn’t face any of it right now. Hell, I could barely stand up right now, and I’d chased away the only shoulder that was available for me to lean on. I eyed the short cobblestone walkway leading to the front door, and the grass on either side of it. It was a testament to the state I was in that I seriously considered lying down on that grass and saying fuck it to the world for a few hours.
But, no.
I eyed the distance between the car and the nearest wall, and pushed off. My knees wavered, but I aimed the resulting stagger in the direction I needed to go, and the wall hit me before the ground did. The wood-plank siding was rough against my palms, reminding me unpleasantly of the tree-cell. By the time I made it to the open door, I had no doubt that I’d acquired a bunch of new splinters to add to my collection. But I was fucking well going to walk through that door under my own steam if it killed me.
I made it inside, but any delusions I’d had of entering to an impressed audience of one vampire were dashed as I gripped the doorframe and looked around at the place. It was tiny—even smaller than the Fae cottage where Dad was being kept.
I clenched my jaw at the unwelcome reminder of one of the many ways I’d failed, and pushed the thought away. In front of me lay a cozy room with a living area with a large hearth on one side, a cooking area with a second exterior door on the other, and a small table with two chairs set in between.
Three interior doors were set in the far wall. Through the left one I could see the end of a bed. Through the center one was a bathroom. The rightmost one was firmly and pointedly shut. Even in my current state, I could read the message contained in those tea leaves just fine, thanks.
I kicked the front door closed with a clumsy movement of my foot, and used the conveniently placed table as a resting spot in my final push to get from the front door to the empty bedroom. When I made it, I closed the bedroom door behind me with more force than was strictly necessary, because fuck it all. Fuck this. Fuck Rans. Fuck the world.
Fuck me.
My eyes fell on an overnight bag. The very same bag I’d abandoned in Chicago when I left with Albigard for Dhuinne. The bag Rans had apparently dragged halfway around the world to a bolt-hole in rural Ireland. My eyes burned, the room growing blurry around me.
No. Fuck all of it.
I stumbled to the bed and fell facedown onto it, fully clothed and probably stinking to high heaven after days of imprisonment and terror. There was no way I’d be able to sleep right now, I thought. Not with so many terrible things swirling around the edges of my mind like ravenous carrion birds sensing a meal.
Darkness swallowed me almost before I’d completed the thought.
* * *
When I awoke, it was dark. I had no idea what time it was now, or what time of day it had been when we arrived—only that it had been daylight. I was hungry and thirsty, and it felt as though a small, furry animal had crawled into my mouth and died of some horrific disease.
With tentative movements, I rolled over and sat up. The terrifying weakness had eased a bit, to the point that I now felt more like I was recovering from a nasty bout of flu, as opposed to being at death’s door. My stomach growled when I registered the smell of something rich and delicious wafting under the closed door.
Was that what had woken me?
The cramping hunger pangs in my belly drove me to shaky feet, propelling me with single-minded purpose toward the source of that mouthwatering aroma. I didn’t even stop to think that venturing out of my bedroom would probably mean interacting with Rans until I entered the main room to find it empty.
My eyes shot to the third door; the one that had been closed before. It was open, and also empty. Rans wasn’t here.
That might have worried me more if it weren’t for the pot warming on the stove. A single light over the counter area illuminated my surroundings—clearly, this place at least had electricity and running water, for all its isolation and rustic charm.
I lifted the lid from the pot, revealing soup. It looked and smelled like vegetable beef, hints of marjoram and thyme teasing my nose. It wasn’t as though it could have been meant for anyone else, so I rummaged around in the cabinets and found a bowl, a spoon, and a wooden ladle that had seen better days.
The small fridge held an assortment of bottled water along with more sports drinks.
