“We have to feed them, Pell. They can eat the hay or we can make them food, but either way, it will cost money.”
“Why are they here?” he demands.
“Well, Saint Mark’s is a sanctuary. And they are orphan monsters. So. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“What are we supposed to do with them? We are not a charity! Shouldn’t we be finding them a real home? This isn’t even their world! We need to find them a new home. A place where they can… be free to wander. To live.”
“What makes you think this is not their world?”
“Look around, Tomas. Do you see any other monsters here? They don’t belong here.”
“Well, this town is filled with wayward eros, isn’t it? Maybe they do belong here.”
“They don’t,” Pell growls.
“Let’s table that conversation for another time. Right now, we have to decide how much hay to buy and how we will get it home.”
“Get it home?” Obviously, Pell didn’t think this through, either.
“They have delivery,” I offer, holding up a finger.
“Delivery? We can’t have a delivery, Tomas.”
He turns his back to me and paces again, angry now.
“Perhaps we should buy a truck,” I say. “Then we could haul it home ourselves.”
Pell turns back to me. “Where the hell are we going to get a truck?”
CHAPTER SEVEN - PELL
Tomas points over my shoulder, and when I turn, I see the sign. “Used cars?”
“Look,” Tomas says. “There’s a truck. Right there in the back of the lot.”
My gaze skims over the cars and lands on a flatbed in the corner. Even from here, I can see the price tag in bright yellow windshield paint. “Great. So not only do we have to buy thousands of dollars’ worth of hay, we have to spend fifteen thousand dollars on a fucking truck? Are you insane? Pie is going to kill me. And how will we get it home? I can’t drive two cars. I’ll have to drive the truck, drop it all off, then… what? Walk twenty miles back into town to pick up the Jeep?”
I’m so mad.
“I can drive it.”
“You don’t know how to drive.”
“I don’t think it’s that hard.”
“It is.”
Tomas narrows his eyes at me, fed up with my dark mood. “Then I guess it will be a long walk. You can stay here and pout or not. But I’m going to buy the truck and then I’m going to buy the hay, and then I’m going to drive it all home.”
And with that, he walks off.
I stand there for a moment, unable to make a commitment about any of this. But… what choice do I have?
I follow him across the street.
By the time I get there he’s already sitting in the driver’s seat chatting up the salesman.
“It’s an automatic,” Tomas exclaims as I approach. “Driving it home will be no problem at all.”