Page 22 of Stalked By Shadows

“And full of cat hair,” Micah said. He made his way to a wall that opened magically into a dresser that had been invisible moments before, pulling out clothes. “I don’t mind sharing the futon. Sky stays over sometimes. She’s a bit like sleeping with an octopus, legs and arms everywhere. But I’m used to her being around.”

“Are you and Sky a thing?”

“Nah. She’s really into your brother, and not quite comfortable with herself yet. I’m more into guys than girls, even transitioning girls. She’s a bit too girly for me. She’s saving up for top surgery so she doesn’t have a place of her own. Does a lot of couch surfing. She’s here probably two or three nights a week. Most of her stuff is actually at her cousin’s place. They butt heads a lot, so she doesn’t stay there much.” He pointed at a door that seemed to lead to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a few.”

“Sure,” I said. He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door, and I pulled open the drawer below the futon. There were half a dozen different sheet sets in the drawer, some of them very colorful and interesting, including a set with cactuses, and another with cat mermaids. Jet examined the contents of the drawer with me, glancing back in my direction with that cat judgment on his face.

“What?” I asked him. “I promise to keep my hands off.” For tonight at least. We both could use some sleep.

I chose the mermaid cats and had to shoo him out of the drawer before closing it and figuring out how to get the back of the futon to lay down. A few seconds later it was flat, I stripped off the colorful wrap that appeared to be decoration over the plain brown cover, and pulled the sheet onto the bed.

I glanced at the loft and the stairs again, sucking in a deep breath before making the climb on my hands and knees, clinging to the small railing on every other stair. Tiny houses were a thing. I knew somewhere in the back of my head that they were a big thing in some parts of the country, maybe the world. Lukas watched a lot of random home improvement shows on the rare occasion he was home and wanting to get his mind off work. Sometimes they featured tiny houses. Micah’s house was much like the tiny houses I’d seen on those shows. Only his space was more wide open, less focused on narrow room stacking and more one big simplified space with the loft. Having lived in Tokyo, Japan, likely Micah was used to living in small multifunctional spaces. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet though I’d spent plenty of time crammed into tents with a bunch of other soldiers. It was different to have all the amenities of a normal home in such a small area.

The loft was exactly as Micah said, narrow, with a small section open to the rest of the condo. It was really just a big shelf built into the curve of the ceiling above the windows. There actually was a handful of short windows off to the side, also covered in thick window treatments. I could see how the sun might bake the space in the morning. A plush rug softened the wood floor, and small bookcases lined the area, some filled with books, others filled with fabric and yarn. There was a sewing machine on a short table near one wall, and a cat bed beside it, which was covered in black cat fur.

There was also not enough room to stand up, which explained why there were no chairs in the loft space. There were pillows set in specific areas that seemed to fit that section. Like one near the sewing machine that had a little back to it, likely to help Micah while he sat at the machine working. Another was a beanbag type. And two others seemed to be big floor pillows that I’d seen while dining at a restaurant or two in Japan.

In a set of cloth-covered chests near the stairs I found the pillows for the bed, and a handful of very beautiful and fun looking quilts. One of them was covered in spooky Halloween fabrics with skeletons, ravens, and witches. Another was a panel sort of quilt with pinups dressed as witches, zombies, and sexy maids on one side, the other side had half naked men fishing, camping, firefighting, and swimming.

I brought them both down in case Micah didn’t want to share blankets. When I slept, I tended to burrow myself into the blankets, until nothing was left uncovered but the top of my head. It wasn’t due to being cold, but more a comfort of the weight of the blanket. Both the quilts were thin, but big enough that I hoped they’d be that perfect wrap.

Lukas had bought a special blanket for me as a gift when I’d finally gotten out of the hospital. It was one of those weighted things that was supposed to help with anxiety. Which I really liked, but it was sort of small, so I couldn’t wrap myself in it the way I liked. Usually it ended up pooled at my feet while some cheap Walmart quilt snuggled me like a burrito.

Jet jumped onto the futon and sat in the cat loaf-of-bread pose, staring at me intently. I reached out and stroked down his back, which he seemed to like. At least he wasn’t growling or biting me. When I sat down beside him on the bed, he curled up next to me.

Micah emerged a few minutes later, clean, his hair very dark when wet, and wearing a pair of his bikini briefs. He pointed to the bathroom. “All yours. I put out towels for you, along with a fresh shower scrub, and toothbrush.”

“Thank you.” I leapt up from my perch on the edge of the futon and headed toward the bathroom trying not to stare at Micah. I couldn’t help that my body responded to him. It hadn’t done anything in months, and now it was doing the happy dance for one man who didn’t seem to realize the effect he had on me. Not that he had to care, my body was my problem, I reminded myself. I darted past him and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

The bathroom was big for the space of the apartment, with a full-sized sink with drawers, a linen cupboard, a toilet with a lot of buttons, and a large, white, claw-foot, soaker tub. The walls and floors were tiled in bright sky blue, white, and a patchwork of colored mini-squares running in strips of three around the upper portion of the walls, and while there was a curtain strung on a rod hanging from the ceiling, it only covered a small portion of the bathtub/shower combo. The towels and stuff sat on a small bamboo bench near the shower. I used the toilet, figuring out that the buttons ran different for a number one or a number two, and there was even a bidet, which I’d never used before, but had seen overseas enough to recognize. Nice.

I made my way to the shower. Would there be hot water in a place this tiny after Micah had already used it? I turned on the spray and it was warm and soothing. I sighed, stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the lush blue rug beside the shower. When I stepped under the spray, I worried for a few seconds that the liquid bandage wouldn’t hold, but with the heat washing away the grime, I didn’t care right then. The water turned pink and brown at my feet.

I used his shampoo and body wash, both smelling of honey and frankincense, sort of reminding me of Christmas. Once the water finally ran clear, I turned off the spray and dried off, using the action to focus my thoughts. The racing of my heart had eased, and exhaustion was tugging at me hard. But I felt… safe? Which was odd as I was in an unfamiliar place and ever since the day my base had been decimated, I’d never liked being someplace unfamiliar.

I tugged on the boxers, folding up the rest, then brushed my teeth and tried to work through the tangle of my hair. Surprisingly the wide-toothed comb Micah had left out for me slid through my hair like a hot knife through butter. What was this magic? There was a small tube of some sort of hair thing next to the comb. I glanced at the back of it, browsing the instructions, before adding a bit to my hair and working it through. It smelled nice, and seemed to ease some of the tight tension of my curls and soften my hair.

I gathered the mess into a ponytail, pulling it back as tight as I could. I’d have an afro in the morning anyway, but I was too tired to care right then.

When I left the bathroom, the overhead light was off and Micah was curled up on the futon, wrapped up in one of the two blankets much like I planned to do myself. Jet sat at his feet, and the multicolored lights from outside filtered through the curtains on the windows, leaving the room pretty bright in a rainbow array despite the late hour.

I set my clothes on the chair with the bag and made my way to the bed. Micah held out a black piece of cloth for me. I stared at it for a minute trying to make it out.

“Eye mask,” Micah said. “Helps with the lights.”

I wondered why he didn’t turn them off, but maybe the main house had control? Or maybe he didn’t like waking up in the middle of the night to complete darkness. I took the mask, slid it on my head, resting the eye parts on my forehead and climbed in beside Micah. It took only a few minutes burrowed up in the blanket, listening to his soft breathing, and smelling the delicate Christmas scent of his body wash, before I fell asleep.

Chapter 9

The sound of some sort of animal chittering woke me. At first I struggled to figure out where I was. The black mask over my eyes blocked most of the room until I shoved it up and realized I was at Micah’s. He was still sound asleep. His own eye mask firmly in place, and Jet curled around his head on his pillow, also sound asleep.

So what was that noise?

I sat up and pulled the eye mask off. The digital clock on the microwave read after three a.m., and it was still dark. The filtered lights still wafted through the curtains, making me wonder why Micah hadn’t put room darkening ones in, though I imagined in the small space it might make it feel a bit like a cave.

The sound came again. A weird chittering I didn’t recognize from anything I’d ever heard in my life. Not from years camping, or from the time spent serving my country. It was almost like a monkey, but that didn’t sound right either. Was there such a thing as a hyena monkey?

I stared at the windows, searching the length of the curtains for a gap, only there was none. They were shut tight, even fastened at the edges with little hooks and strips of fabric. No real shape came through the curtains, only a hint of the lights in the distance. I stared for another minute before lying down again and pulling my blankets up. I hadn’t been in New Orleans long. Maybe it was some weird bird or something. Would Lukas know? His apartment was in the middle of the French Quarter, up the stairs on the second floor of a row of apartments above art galleries and coffee shops. There were no trees or greenery to attract wildlife, just cobblestones and French architecture. He didn’t have time for landscaping and gardens. So he might not know. The sound was more than a little unsettling, making goosebumps rise on my skin and my stomach flip a little with anxiety.