“It is nice to have her home.”
He was accustomed to talking to creatures who couldn’t reply in words. He honestly preferred the company of his plants in the garden and the animal creations he made. People could be just so…talkative. And “talkative” always seemed to come with “trouble.”
The door to his house opened. He winced as he heard the knob slam into the wall. It probably had made a hole. Someone shouted from the foyer. “Hey, asshole!”
Case in point.
Gideon groaned.
* * *
Maggie wokeup with a yawn and a stretch. She was comfortable, and cozy, and she didn’t want to move. But two things demanded her attention. The first was the smell of something cooking. She was starving, and whatever it was smelled amazing.
The second was the muted sound of two voices arguing.
Sitting up, she rubbed her face. She’d accuse Gideon of putting something in the chai tea, but she knew she had honestly been that tired and overwhelmed. She should be terrified of him, especially with how much information he was withholding from her. But he had always felt—even when she had just met him—oddly familiar. As if they had known each other for a long, long time. For better or worse.
Now…she was starting to come to the realization that it wasn’t just a feeling.
Motion on her nightstand caught her attention. She looked over—and sure enough, perched there, sitting up on its hind legs, little hands clasped in front of him, was…the taxidermy rat.
But it wasn’t really a taxidermy, was it?
Taking in a slow breath, she held it for a moment, before letting it out slowly. “Well, shit.”
It twitched one of its few remaining whiskers that clung to fur on its skeletal face. She jolted in surprise and pressed her back against the wall. When she moved, the rat scrambled behind the lamp on the end table.
It was hiding from her.
It was afraid of her.
The absurdity of it poked a hole in her own terror. Why was it afraid of her? Then she remembered. “Oh…right.” She had whacked it with a book. She paused. Taking a breath, she let it out slowly.
Undead creatures were real.
Gideon had never come out and said it, but it was clear that he was, in fact, a necromancer. That meant magic existed, and her world just got a lot more complicated. But the little rat that had been harmlessly watching her was afraid of her, and that felt wrong. That bothered her a lot more than it should. She felt bad about it. “I’m sorry I smashed you earlier…I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just—you’re really freaking scary, and I—I’m a little out of my league, here.”
The rat peeked around the edge of the lamp.
Could it understand her?
Well, magic was real. An undead rat was peering at her, as if she were the monster in the room. How it could see without eyes, she had no clue. So, who was to say that it couldn’t understand her? Why not?
And there was a really good chance that she had more in common with the rat on her nightstand than she’d like to admit.
Shivering at the idea and shoving it to the back of her mind to deal with later, she focused on the undead rat that was still staring at her. “I’m sorry. I really am. You didn’t do anything to deserve getting smashed. I hope it didn’t hurt.”
Carefully, clearly nervous, it crept out from behind the lamp to sit at the edge of the nightstand again. Sitting up on its hind legs, it reached out a paw to her, grabbing at the air in her direction.
What was it asking for? Attention? Affection? This is so fucking weird. But she had two options—panic, scream, and devolve into a crying fit of despair…or accept the fact that magic was real. And that the undead rat in front of her wanted her attention.
I’ve only been aware of the year and change, and before that, nothing. Nothing but memories that I didn’t believe could be real. But maybe…maybe I’m not insane. Maybe I’m just not human. Or really alive.
The notion made her stomach churn, but she was sick of crying and panicking. She was sick and tired of being afraid of every shadow, whether they were in reality or in her mind. It seemed like that was all she did every day of her life—slink from one terrifying moment to the next. Sometimes it felt like she didn’t even have a personality beyond panic and fear and confusion.
The creature tilted its head at her. She could almost sense its disappointment. As if it was wondering why she didn’t want to interact with it. Her heart sank. Now she felt bad again.
The little creepy rat was…cute, in a weird, Tim Burton-esque kind of way. And with how it was reaching out for her, it was too sweet to be afraid of.