Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (11 page)

Then something bit down on my arm.

I sat up in my bed, gasping in surprise. Wide-eyed, I stared down at my arm in dismay. I expected to see gashes, some deep wound, anything.

It was only my smooth skin, lit by greenish sunlight from the window.

The blankets beneath me felt dry, reminding me that the dream hadn't been scary until the last second. Not waking up in a panicked sweat was a tiny upside to having a nightmare.

Groggy, I looked around the room, remembering where I was. Across the way, I caught a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror. My hair was a giant knot, sticking up all around.

Smoothing it with my fingers, I slid out of the bed. There were no clocks to tell me the time. The weird glass in the window didn't make it easy to judge, either.

Stretching until I felt dizzy, I looked around until I found the copper tub in the corner. It was surrounded by a curtain, nothing more.
Huh, how... historical?
The novelty wore out when I realized the only water coming out was ice cold.
Alright, revoking that. It's ancient, just ridiculously ancient.

Dejected by the start of my morning, I slipped on some jeans and a blue sweater. It took a bit, but I managed to tug my hair into a messy bun. I wanted hot water, hot breakfast, and knew I'd need to leave my room to get it.

Wiggling my toes in some thick wool socks, nothing more, I cracked my door open. Carefully, I peeked through the slit, eyeing the one side of the hallway I could see.

It was brighter than last night, which seemed obvious when I considered it. Sunlight filtered in where it could, desperately trying to illuminate the rows of doors.

I wasn't sure if I was hoping to avoid the guests, or to spot them.

Hmn. Well, I guess I should go downstairs. If anything, I can figure out what's for breakfast.

Stepping forward, I stubbed my toe against something hard. My squeak was pathetic, followed quickly by a confused glare at what lay just outside my room.

Recognizing the thick stack of papers, I bent down to grab them.
Ah, right. My 'duties' or whatever. Grault was supposed to go over these with me, but we never got a chance.

Recalling the tension of the night before set my neck on fire.
I shouldn't have gotten so mad. I'm sure he didn't mean to make me feel like a failure.
My tiny smile was sour.
He should just have waited till I gave him a real reason, is all.

Sighing, I flipped through the pages. The list was gigantic, a detailed explanation of everything I, apparently, needed to do.
Did Tessa actually do all of this alone?

Holding it under my arm, I shut my door and walked quietly down the hall. The morning chores listed coincided well with what I was interested in.

Food, and hot water.

Passing by the strung lights at the base of the stairs, I pondered the problem that had plagued me the most.
Lights that work by magic. Or, lights that worked only for Tessa. Hmn.

With only my thoughts for company, I considered how I would, or could, fix such a thing.

I had no answer by the time I made it to the long hall of windows.

Outside, through the glass, I was able to finally see the yard that the late hour had hidden before. It wasn't a pretty sight, it was as bad as the greenhouse.

So many problems, so much work... I need to tackle one at a time if I hope to fix any of this.

My heart was thumping, anxious at the realization of all the labor ahead of me.

In the kitchen, I set the paperwork down on a counter. My nose brushed the page as I read it from top to bottom, then flipped to the next.
Tessa made breakfast for everyone, every morning. But not just that... she made specific things...

So much stuff, my goodness.

Shaking my head, I pushed the papers away. There was no reason to work so hard, not that I could see. In normal hotels (though this was far from normal, admittedly) there was just a basic breakfast for the guests to eat.

Turning, I headed into the larder. Grault had arranged everything I'd bought on the shelves, but the room was big enough that it still looked bare.

Scooping butter and eggs into my arms, I shoved out of the chilly locker hurriedly. I'd done very little baking in my life, but I knew one recipe by heart. Pancakes were surely the easiest breakfast to make in bulk.

The pantry attached to the kitchen was full of spices, containers without labels, but sugar was easy to spot. I also saw the bag of bagels and package of cookies I'd bought. They'd been shoved into a bottom corner, like Grault didn't know what to do with them.

My first bottleneck was understanding the stove. It seemed Tessa didn't have a gas range.
No, that would be too easy,
I sighed mentally.

Squatting down, I eyed the big metal thing thoughtfully. It had two doors, and inside one of them, I found some unburnt logs.
You're joking. It actually burns wood. Hmn.

Lifting my eyes, I followed the long tube that extended from the back of the stove, into the roof.
And that's where the smoke goes. Alright.

It seemed inefficient, but I was relieved it was something I could figure out.
No magic here, wonderful.
Nodding to myself, I looked around the kitchen for matches.

The pantry saved me again.

Sticking my head into the stove, I wondered if I just had to light the wood.
Will that be enough?

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said behind me. I smashed the back of my head on the hard metal, my shout echoing in the stove. Old soot floated around and into my hair.

Turning, I held the spot on my skull that I was certain would swell up. There, floating by me, was the yellow slug-thing from yesterday. “Oh!” I said stupidly, one eye still shut from the sharp pain spreading around.

“I'm sorry,” he said insistently, still unsettling me with his lack of mouth. “I didn't mean to scare you, Miss Blooms!”

Looking at my hand to check it was free of blood, I decided to stay on my knees a bit longer. Standing had a good chance of making me nauseous. “No, it's alright. I just wasn't expecting anyone to show up. I haven't seen anyone all morning.”
Or much of yesterday, after my little freak out.

He bobbed in place, a ribbon on the wind. He was close enough that I could have touched him, I resisted the urge. I wondered how the creature might feel. “Well,” he scoffed, “you did leave a bit of a bad impression yesterday.”

“I know,” I sighed, trying to meet the thing's tiny beady eyes. “I'm sorry about, you know, screaming at you.”

He gave an armless shrug. “As I said, a bad impression.” He quickly brightened his tone. “We never were properly introduced. I'm Junlit, Miss Blooms.”

I smiled uncertainly. “Nice to meet you, Junlit. You can just call me Farra, Miss Blooms is way too formal for me.”

“Farra,” he said, judging the name. I saw him move, assumed he was looking at the stove over my shoulder. “What were you doing?”

Blinking, reminded of my task, I climbed to my feet. “I was trying to make breakfast. Do you know how this stove works?”

“Of course,” Junlit said proudly. I leaned towards him, my excitement flaring. “Just do it like Tessa did. She always used magic, and poof! Fire.”

I didn't hide my frown. “Right, of course. But I was hoping to use these,” I said, waving the matches.

Junlit floated close, his knobby eye-stalks wobbling. “Hmn. That's not how she did it.”

“It is how I'm doing it, though.” Peering at the open stove, I flicked the match to life. I hoped one would be enough, but it ended up taking five before the logs were ablaze.

Shutting the tiny door, I watched the red heat grow through the tiny glass window. “That should get things hot,” I mused.

“And then what?”

Turning, I gestured at my array of ingredients on the counter. “I'll make breakfast when it's hot enough.”

Junlit didn't sound convinced. “How will you know when that is?”

“I—well, I guess I'll just...”
Hmn, how will I know? I've never used a wood stove before.

“You know,” the yellow creature said, “Tessa was able to cook right away. The stove was exactly hot enough every time. She always used—”

“Magic,” I snapped, not hiding my irritation. “Yes, I know. She used magic. I'm using
matches
, that'll be good enough.”

He hovered over to the counter, swirling above the eggs. “You're not able to use magic, are you?”

Lowering my chin, I started cracking the eggs into a big bowl. It was messy, bits of shell landing inside.
How do people make this look so easy?
“I don't know.”

“You don't
know?
” He sounded horrified. “How could you not know?”

Chewing my lip, I wiped my sticky hands on my jeans.
I need to find the towels, and a trash can.
I didn't want to have this conversation with Junlit, but he didn't seem to pick up on my mood. “I just don't know. I guess I assume I can't use it, since I never have before.”

“Then why on earth are
you
the one taking care of this house?” he asked, moving so close to my nose that I had to lean backwards.

I lifted an egg between us. “Do you want breakfast or not?”

Junlit flitted away, floating over to the bag of flour. “That depends on what you're making. I
am
hungry, though. Without Tessa, we've all just been scavenging from the larder.”

“That's why it's so empty.” It wasn't a question. “Wait, Junlit... what were you all going to do if I never came here? Surely you'd have had to start cooking for yourself.”

He managed to look baffled, a strange sight to witness. “Certainly not. I imagine we'd all have just left when it was clear things weren't improving.”

I found a whisk in a drawer and began beating the eggs. Junlit wasn't impressed by the bits that went flying out of the bowl, I could tell. “I don't get it, that seems extreme to me. Why not just take care of this place on your own?”

“Because we can't,” he said, curling into a partial knot. “You didn't know that?”

I slowed the stirring to stare at him. “You can't take care of the house on your own?”

“Nope!”

“Impossible. I—then why would you even stay here, why live in such a place?”

The slug-spirit swirled, snaking my way until he hung a foot from my wrinkled brow. “Because, Farra, we are safe here.”

The fire in the stove was making the kitchen toasty. I'd wanted that earlier, but now, sweat was trickling down my neck. “Safe from
what?
”

“From your world,” he said softly, “and our own.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that. Peeking at my bowl of eggs, I started adding in the sugar. “Grault never told me what you all even are.”

He was circling over the stove, almost riding on the heat waves. “That's rather rude. We're your tenants, you know?”

“I meant, you're not
human
,” I said carefully, “so what are you exactly?”

“You don't know that either?” His voice was tainted by disdain. “Farra, I'm wondering if you're prepared for any of this.”

Amazingly, I laughed. “I've been wondering that, myself.”

He stared at me, quiet as I mixed the pancake batter. Then, Junlit stopped circling. “We're revenants.”

My expression was flat. “I don't know what that is.”

He must have thought his explanation would amaze me. The way he sank down, almost landing on the top of the stove, it made me move to warn him. Of his own accord, he halted an inch above the searing metal. “Farra, really now! A revenant... it's—we're—like phantasms.”

I didn't blink.

“...Spirits?”

That was a word I knew. “You're all
ghosts!?
” Pancake batter splatted as I dropped the wooden spoon into the bowl.

Watching a slug roll his eyes was weird. “No, not exactly.”

“Not exactly. Go on.”

“What else is there? We're all revenants, unable to really go anywhere permanent. Well, except for here.”

Looking down at the thick, tan sludge I'd made, I grabbed a frying pan from the wall. “Okay, what makes a dark and crumbling old house a permanent home?” I was pleased by all the information Junlit was giving me, but it also reminded me angrily of how little Grault had offered up.

“Generally, it's because we have no where else to go,” he said, watching me while I set the pan on the hot metal.

I dropped a slab of butter into the pan. “How could that be?”

“What,” he balked, “you've never heard of the concept of 'homelessness' either?”

“Of course I have,” I mumbled. “I—sorry, I wasn't trying to be insensitive.” Poking the handle of the pan, I flinched at how it stung. “You think this is hot enough?”

Junlit drifted towards a wall, grabbing a pot holder I'd missed. “Use this, before you burn yourself.”

I was more than happy to do so.

“Anyway,” he sighed, moving out of the way while I hugged the giant bowl in one arm. “I'm sure you didn't mean any harm. It's just a sore spot to have no where to go, to be unsure where you'll sleep next.”

His words cut at me with hard familiarity. “I can relate to that, yes. Before Grault showed up... there was a good chance I would lose where I was sleeping, too.” Distracted by thinking about how his hands had felt on me, I poured too much batter into the pan. Some spilled over, burning black on the iron. “Oh, shoot!” Fumbling, I put the bowl down on the counter. Smoke wafted up in thick curls. “Is that bad?”

The slug spun in a lazy motion. “It's just smoke, isn't it?”

“I guess.” Warily, I ignored the acrid scent, grabbing a spatula from the wall hooks. “Can't do much about it now. Should I open a window?”

Junlit froze. “Oh, no. That would make Grault very upset.”

Crinkling my nose, I grunted and flipped the massive pancake. More bits flew off of it, dissolving into hard lumps of charcoal on the stove. “What? Why would he care?”

Like he'd heard us talking about him, the dark-eyed man stomped into the kitchen. His hair, short as it was, appeared messy; his expression wild with concern. “What in the hell is going on in here!?” I turned stiff under his fierce glare. “Miss Blooms! What are you
doing?
”