Taken By Storm (32 page)

Ten minutes later, still nothing from Mira.
 

My sandwich tastes like glue and gym socks, as nervous as I am. When there's a knock at my bedroom door, I almost jump off the bed. Nana scuttles under it, making little thumps on the carpet.
 

"Come in," I say.

It's Mason. Because of course it is.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi."

He sits down on the bed next to me. "Are you okay?"

I give him an are-you-kidding-me look, then glance down at my phone. Still nothing.

"What do you want me to say, Mason?" I put my phone facedown on the bed, which doesn't help. My brain goes through all the possible explanations. She needed some alone time. She ran into demons and is taking out her fury by cutting them into tiny pieces. She ran into demons and is getting cut into tiny pieces. Her car broke down. Her phone is dead. She got lost. She got in an accident. She got kidnapped by Gregor.
 

I want to throw up.

My phone buzzes.

I snatch it up, ignoring Mason completely. It's her.
 

Stopped for a beer. Home in fifteen.

Thank every fucking star in the sky.

I text back,
Glad you're safe.

Then I put my phone back down and face my ex-boyfriend.
 

He's looking at me like I just offered him a rabbit stew made of Nana. The moment I make the comparison, I feel terrible. I reach down and scratch her between the ears, even though she's not a psychic bunny that I know of. I don't even want to joke about Nana stew.

"Evis told me you tried to put your stuff in here," I say. I don't know why I lead with that. I close my eyes, having a surreal moment where I feel a surge of gratitude that I'm in this kind of discomfort because it means the world still exists.

Mason is silent for a moment. "I don't know where to sleep otherwise, when you're around."

I close my eyes. They feel like they're made of gravel. I think my heart might break all over again.
 

"You can't just do that," I say softly. "Not without asking. Even if there wasn't somebody already sleeping in here. You left me, Mason."

"I know."

"What did you mean by it, then?"

"I miss you."

"It's not about whether or not we missed each other," I say. "You don't get to make the decision to come back and then just turn up and climb in my bed with me. That's not how it works. I'm a person. I have feelings. You hurt the fuck out of them when you left."

Saying it out loud actually makes me feel better. There's anger smoldering in me that I haven't let surface because I haven't had time. First Carrick showing up, then Gregor having me start a shade army, then Gregor being Gregor, now all of this. I may not be able to shove that arrow up Gregor's ass right now or be able to do fuck all about the hells that are about to swallow my world whole, but I can face my ex and give him a piece of my mind.

"You left me a six word note and an
animal
. Like,
hey, you taught me love, thanks, here's a bunny
. I love Nana, and I'd rather pluck out all my toenails than lose her now, but a rabbit is not a substitute for a lover, gods damn it!" I realize I just accidentally made a stupid vibrator pun, but Mason doesn't get it, so I don't give a shit. "You treated me like I was disposable. You just got up and walked away and left me to deal with all of this alone!"

"You're not alone," Mason says, looking bewildered and hurt and even a little afraid at the strength of my declaration.

"No, I built this gods damned family. They were there for me. They fought beside me. They pulled rakath spines out of my body. I carried them out of death. I watched too many of them die. They stayed and fought while you went on a world fucking tour. Gods, Mason, what the fuck were you thinking? I've been fighting a war every night for my entire life, and this is the realest it has ever been. I don't know how much I really taught you about love."
 

He flinches as if I've slapped his face full of rakath spines myself, and part of me recoils from that look, but tears burn at my eyes. Every part of me feels on fire, like I've taken Mira's burning home into myself and my skin is starting to singe from the inside out.

"I'm sorry." He means it, or at least I think he does. "How can I make it better?"

I take a deep breath and let it back out again, but the air does little to cool me. "I don't know. Helping us find Gregor is a good start."

Mason looks at me, and for the briefest instant, his face has that open, earnest vulnerability that I used to see in the early hours of morning when I'd lie down next to him, take his hand, and settle in to sleep.

"Do you think there's ever a chance…" he doesn't finish the sentence because the door to the bedroom opens, and it's Mira.

Her face is puffy and dotted with soot, with tear tracks on both cheeks. Mine probably looks the same. I put my face in my hands.
 

"You can start by letting Mira and I have our room back," I say to Mason. I don't address his question because I can't. Not right now.

He gets up and walks to the door, looking back at me once. I only see it barely, because I can't look at him straight on.
 

Mira opens the door the rest of the way to let him pass. She's not looking at him either, and I cannot blame her.
 

She shuts the door, and I feel like the rest of the world recedes.
 

Gods, I feel like the world's biggest dick. She just lost her home and everything she's built for herself, and she comes back here to find him in her bedroom with me. If Evis is right and she is in love with me, this is a gods damned titty twister after getting a swirly.
 

"I'm sorry," I say. "He came in a few minutes ago. We were just talking."

Mira sits down right where Mason just vacated his spot on the bed, raising a weary hand to her head. "You don't owe me an explanation."

"I kind of feel like I do."

The air hangs heavy between us for the span of several breaths.
 

"Everything is a humming blank right now," she says finally. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Join the club."

"Can I be president?"
 

Her heart's not in the silly question, but I go with it anyway.

"You bet."
 

Nana hops back out from under the bed, heading for one of her toys on the floor. I need to re-stuff it with hay. Tomorrow.

"Maybe we should talk," says Mira. "About…whatever this is."

"That's probably good," I say. Though if I don't know my own feelings, I don't know how I'm going to even talk about this at all.

"I have feelings for you," she says simply. "As more than a friend. I have for a long time."

To my utter surprise, that makes tears spill over. "Why didn't you ever say anything before?"

"I don't know. You always seemed more interested in men than women, if you dated at all. But mostly you just didn't seem to have any interest in dating in general." She has a bewildered look on her face like she can't believe this conversation is happening.
 

I kind of can't believe it either.
 

I don't know what to say. Her admission is so frank — and also true — that I don't think it's even possible to countermand. I'd be lying if I told her I've had a crush on her for ages, and she'd know it.

"I never really cared about dating because…I don't know why. I was so lonely, but I couldn't let anyone get close to me." Admitting that is harder than I expected it to be. "I'm not exactly the typical Southern belle ready with a glass of sweet tea and a plate of fried anything for anybody."

"Neither am I, if you haven't noticed."

I smile at her. She's looking at me and waiting. I can't just say nothing about my feelings after she's confessed hers. I can't do that to her.
 

I wipe away the wetness on my face. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Mira. You've stood up for me and stood by me even when no one else would."

Her body deflates almost imperceptibly, and the sight of her preparing herself for what she must think is an inevitable
but
makes my heart wring out in my chest like a washrag.

"Lately…" I don't know what I want to say. I have no fucking clue what to do. Instead of finishing my sentence, I reach my hand up, fingers brushing the pink scars on her left cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you. And I don't just mean that as a friend."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she doesn't move.

It's the closest I've come even in my own head to articulating what I feel for her, and saying it makes me realize that it's true. I look at her and I can't picture the world without her. My hand falls back to my lap.
 

"You're so brave," I tell her. "And you fight so fiercely for the people you love. I love the way you swear, because it's always made me feel better about being potty mouthed at the Summit meetings. You don't take anybody's shit, not even mine. And I don't know what we should do, because the world could end, and on one hand the typical thing to do is scream
YOLO
into the wind and whatever else seems like a good idea, but on the other the world could end, and we have to try and stop it, and there's demons killing people I love and my ex-boyfriend can probably hear everything I'm saying right now and —"

Mira leans forward and kisses me.
 

It's not a long kiss. It's not the kind of kiss that plays as the end credits roll. Her lips taste of ash and tears and sweat and flames. She smells like smoked vanilla. Her lips meet mine only for the barest instant, a simple press, and then they're gone.

She pulls back and looks at me. "We don't have to decide or do anything right now," she says.
 

Her violet eyes are luminous, tear filled, and bloodshot. She's beautiful.
 

Standing up, she goes to the door. "I'm going to go wash my gods damned face. You should do the same. You look like a chimney sweep."

She pauses with her fingers on the doorknob, just the pads of them resting on the slightly-dented brass. "Even if this is a
maybe when this is all over
thing, thank you."

"You're safe with me," I say. The words tumble from my lips.

"I know."

I creep out of bed early the next morning, careful not to disturb Mira. We didn't touch as we slept, which is probably for the best, but it feels strange to me, this sense of being in limbo.

Carrick is the only person in the living room when I go out there after my shower, feeling more rejuvenated than I have in weeks. Jax, Evis, and Mason must all be out hunting.
 

Carrick confirms that, though he gives me the good old shade stone-face when he mentions Mason's name.
 

"What?" I ask him, my rejuvenation fading into testiness.

"Not you," he says. "Him. Good guy. Not that bright."

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe it's my long and illustrious career on this planet, but I should think the average person with even a hint of sense would know that barging in on an ex with expectations is foolish."
 

His tone makes it clear he's not opening it for discussion, and I don't feel like talking about it, so I throw together a breakfast burrito and sit down with Carrick at the table and gesture at the checklist with my food.

"How's it coming?" What I really mean is
will this work
, and I'm pretty sure Carrick gets that.

"Good. We should have everything in a few days." He smooths the checklist out, wiping away a crumb. It's written in his careful, flowing hand. "Once we get everything, it won't take too long to put together. Alamea said Gryfflet will come help with it."

"I don't know if I like that idea."

"If he turns on us again, I'll make him into an umbrella."

"I don't really want to give him the chance to turn on us." I didn't think too much cheese was possible, but I think I overdid it. Biting into the burrito sort of feels like it's egg wrapped in cheese instead of the other way around.

"Do you trust Alamea?" Carrick reaches for one of my hair ties and pulls his chest-length auburn hair up in a top knot.
 

"Yes, with an asterisk. If she's willing to stake Gregor's fate on Gryfflet, she either trusts him pretty implicitly or she's so desperate she could get us all dead before the demons have time to eat us."

"I think it's a gamble we have to take," he says.

"I think you're right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." I ponder for a moment. "Let's think about this. No other Summits are reporting any rogue Mediators, right?"

"Keyword, reporting."

"Fine, but let's just make an ass of you and me and assume that they're not reporting anything because Gregor's the biggest bigwig in the Summit's hells-zealots." The thought of there being more hells-zealots in the Summits of the world is enough to make my toes curl. "Whatever plans they have for a total full-scale attack, they're clearly waiting on something. I'll bet you my favorite silk robe that whatever they're waiting on has something to do with Gregor. If we can get him over and out, it probably won't stop them from sticking their flag in our planet, but it might just give us a little advantage."