Page 9 of Adepts and Alchemists

The door opened around ten minutes later with a discreet beep. Modern hinges glided soundlessly because I didn’t hear the door close until the mechanism slid softly into place behind the intruder. Only sheer, morbid curiosity made me lift my head out of the pillow to get a look at my temporary bunkmate. I half-expected to see Wanda in a nightie, ready and willing to pester me all night for answers.

Instead, I found the mundane standing feet away from the bed, wringing his hands in an effort not to collapse into the human personification of a flop sweat. He looked nervous, though not for the reasons he ought to be. When his gaze swept over my stolen body, he wasn’t looking for weapons or any indication I was looking to cast. The suspicion was automatic when you knew who and what you were dealing with. Anthony did. It hurt to see him give me that appraising look when he thought I wasn’t looking. He cared about me. I knew that.

I just wasn’t certain it was enough, after everything I’d been through.

The mundane man was handsome if you liked the brawny ex-surfer type. His hair was too long, his beard a little too thick, like he was constantly a day behind on shaving it. The stubble made him more attractive in my opinion, not less. I enjoyed the rasp over my skin. Anthony rarely grew his beard out, after several close calls with fire and facial hair had nearly scarred his face.

Unlike many men in their middle years, RJ hadn’t let himself go to seed. There was an undeniable core of strength to him, even if he looked too befuddled to access it at the moment. He shuffled from foot to foot near the base of his bed, still wringing his hands. It was almost cute. If I’d been in my original body, it might have earned him a kiss. But this was Lydia’s. I wasn’t inviting anyone she didn’t want into her bed. It wasn’t my place. Not my body. Not my life.

“Did you need something?” I asked, wincing when there was a caustic note in the question. I hadn’t earned the right to cop an attitude with the mundane. He was irritating, but ultimately trying to be helpful.

To his credit, he didn’t retreat with a yelp of fright. I’d managed to get more of a rise from him when I’d been in his bathroom, carefully trying not to see or comment on the impressive asset he was working with. After going full-frontal in front of an entire coven, he seemed to have come to terms with his new reality.

“You’re Indigo, right?” he began.

I flinched at the sound of my name. How long had it been since someone had looked into Lydia’s face and seen me hiding beneath? No one had said my name in a friendly fashion since learning the truth about my continued existence. I was being tolerated in this coven, not looked after. I was a danger, and they were dealing with me the best way they knew how. Putting me into a room alone until they figured out what kind of dangerI posed. The poor man had been selected to be the canary in the coal mine, even if Wanda would keep that particular line of thinking to herself. She was a witch looking out for her coven. It made sense she’d keep them far away from me until I could be trusted. Whenever that might be.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s my name.”

“I’m RJ.”

I vaguely remembered Poppy mentioning this man, but the details surrounding him were still fuzzy. We hadn’t exactly had time for introductions. It had taken Maverick and Anthony heading off some of Murrain’s people at the town limits to get us clear of the Hollow. Maverick was going to cut through faerie, courtesy of his wife, and meet us at a safe house I’d eked out before abandoning Murrain entirely. I was certain that the spells I’d placed would hold, completely obscuring the safehouse from anyone but myself.

RJ waited expectantly for the compliment that would never come. I wasn’t going to tell him it was good to meet him. If things had gone well for me, we would never have crossed paths. I was a witch with power and more enemies than I could shake a broom handle at. He was a mundane obsessed with monsters, but no practical experience with them. He was like an adorable golden retriever puppy, paws far too large and clumsy to allow for fluid movement. His innocence and clumsy and well-meaning attitude would probably get him killed.

“So,” he said, scrubbing the back of his neck to disguise his discomfort. “You’re a witch.”

“Yes.”

He winced at the caustic note in my voice. “Sorry if I’m being a pest. I just want to understand. Was Lydia a witch also?”

My chest twinged unbearably. Lydia had settled somewhere near my heart, a small, annoying burr beneath my skin. I’dgotten used to having her there. The causal use of the past tense drove a sharp, curved dagger through my guts.

“I’m surprised Angelo didn’t already tell you the answer to that,” I mumbled, speaking more to my pillow than him. I wished unconsciousness would reach up and beat me about the head and shoulders. Sleep would be a welcome respite from reminders.

RJ shrugged. “Sure, he told me a lot of stuff. That doesn’t mean he’s right about all of it. It seems to me that monsters would be just as varied as people. I know about Angelo’s reputation, and well… I just think Lydia deserves better than a playboy.”

Which... was more nuance than I usually received from a mundane. Lydia seemed offended by my views on her species, as though I was accusingherof being a terrible person. I had a general disdain for mundanes because they were either too ignorant or cowardly, in my perspective. Murrain’s faction of the Lords held to the idea that total separation between humans and supernaturals would be the wisest course of action, and we’d started making attempts at doing so.

I rolled over onto my side, offering him a weary smile. “And just for that, you’ve earned my attention. What are you wanting to know? Try to keep it brief. I haven’t slept in months.”

RJ gave me a dubious once over. “I’m not sure you should fall asleep with all of that—blood? on you. It’s probably going to cause an infection or something.”

“I don’t have the time or energy for a shower,” I replied. “And, yes, it’s blood.”

RJ thought about that for a second and then shrugged. “I could help wash it off you. I think there’s a little tub in the bathroom. I’d be a perfect gentleman, I promise. I’d just feel better if you didn’t go to bed covered in...”

Covered in Lydia’s blood. The stuff seemed source less now. With the healing factor I’d adopted, nothing short of decapitating me or blowing me to pieces would do the trick. Andrea hadn’t been trying to kill Lydia with her attack. She’d been trying to kill me. Lydia was only a victim because she’d been in the Manananggal’s way. Which was my fault again, damn it.

I should have argued. Should have told him I could take my own damn shower. I should have tried to do exactly that. But I couldn’t move. I felt too sore, too heartbroken to do more than crawl under the covers and close my eyes. RJ seemed to take the silence as assent, because he disappeared for a few minutes, coming back with a plastic tub (that must have belonged to the cleaning crew) full of warm water, a stack of washcloths, and the generic soap one always found in establishments like these. I watched him with interest when he used the bar of ivory soap to lather up the washcloth. He reached for my leg but paused before his fingertips could make contact.

“I can just give you the washcloth if you don’t want me to touch you.”

“It’s fine. You’re not going to hurt me any more than I’ve already been hurt.”

RJ grasped my calf gingerly, using the other hand to peel Lydia’s sneakers and socks off. Cool air wafted over my arches and I sighed in spite of myself. I didn’t deserve the gentleness, but Ilikedit. Silly to feel so fond of him already, simply because he wasn’t shouting at me.

And that brought up an interesting question. “I’m sure Angelo told you about me.”