Page 72 of Winter Lost
Not even the sting of my elbow where it had hit something at some point in the proceedings put a dent in the joy that was my body. He’d started out on the bottom to keep my elbows safe.
“The floor’s hard,” he’d said. “Any bruises I get will heal up quick.”
That had lasted for a bit, but my elbow and both knees attested that sometimes passion and good sense have only a passing acquaintance. We’d ended up back where we started, though I was pretty sure I was way more comfortable than he was. Adam’s hard body only made a good bed if I was relaxed enough to achieve near bonelessness, which I was.
“I’ve got to get up,” I told Adam’s chest reluctantly. “Now that you aren’t quite so distracting…that smell.”
His quiet laugh bounced me up and down. “Rank,” he agreed.
The remnants of the ghost reeked like a skunk ten days dead on hot pavement—considerably worse than it had originally smelled. If we left it in here much longer, the room would be uninhabitable.
I got up and examined the problem. Coagulating on the bedding was a gelatinous mound roughly the mass of a large watermelon, with what looked like a few bone fragments in it. A grayish stain that might have had green overtones in better light spread around the remains where the bedding had absorbed liquid.
“I don’t think that a washing machine is going to clean that bedspread,” I said. “The obvious answer is to chuck the whole mess outside where it can freeze.”
But when I tried to open them, the windows proved to be old, fragile, and frozen shut.
“How did you stop it?” Adam asked.
“It wasn’t me,” I told him. “It was that silver spider.”
He’d been heading over to help me with the window, but stopped at my words.
“I thought the spider was an enemy,” Adam said cautiously. “Why did it save us?”
That’s right. We’d gotten into a fight before I could tell him what I knew about the spider.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “She told me to change to coyote when it had me. Apparently, it is an obligate human predator. Foiled, it went for you. When I couldn’t stop it, the spider informed me that I was to repay her efforts with information and then dropped down on the hungry ghost and turned it into goo.”
“You bargained with her?” asked Adam, and not in the tones of someone admiring their spouse’s intelligence.
“The spider isn’t fae,” I said. “She didn’t wait for my consent, just made an assumptive close like a pushy salesperson.”
I shoved again at the window—which remained stubbornly in place.
“Are you going to keep staring at my butt or help me with this window?” I had no idea where he was looking, but I was done arguing with him for the day. Distracting him from the (hopefully harmless) bargain I’d made seemed like a good idea. “I can’t get enough force at the right angle, and if I keep going, I’m going to break it. Which seems stupid given there’s a blizzard going on outside.”
He patted my bare butt with an appreciative hand and a huff of a laugh. “Let me get the bedding bundled up and ready to go. That way we don’t have to leave the window open so long.”
Thanks to a waterproof cover, the mattress had escaped being destroyed, but the bedspread and the pretty quilt were toast. In a few quick moves he had everything in a neat bundle, the goo on the inside and the waterproof cover clean-side out. He set that on the floor and had the window open in a couple of wiggles and a crack that worried me.
“It’s just the ice,” he told me. “Nothing broke, but I have to hold this up. Can you—”
I grabbed the bundle of bedding and dropped it into the snow outside.
“What about the umbrella?” I asked.
“Chuck it.”
I did.
With the remains of the dead thing outside and the window closed again, the room smelled a lot better. It would be a while before it was pleasant again, though. The radiator rattled in an effort to bring the temperature back up.
“I didn’t think ghosts left a rotting corpse behind,” Adam said.
“Me, either,” I told him. “First time for me. I was able to bite it—sort of—when it was feeding off you.”
As soon as I said it, I felt my gorge rise, though there was no lingering taste in my mouth. But. Ugh. “Excuse me while I brush my teeth.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72 (reading here)
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122