Dreams of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 2) - Page 66

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Maggie wokeup first for a change. Tangled in Gideon’s limbs, she let out a quiet yawn and stretched. She expected that any movement on her part would send him out of a dead sleep, jumping up in a panic to see if she was all right or angry with him.

But it seemed he had burned himself out last night. He was sleeping soundly and didn’t even stir as she slipped out from under his arm. It was morning, the light streaming in through the curtains. They had gone to sleep in his room after a joint shower in which they managed to keep their hands mostly to themselves.

Poor Harry. She felt bad about him being the proverbial third wheel. She’d have to apologize to him later and promise to keep their antics to a minimum in his presence.

Gideon’s bedroom was exactly as she had expected it, with just a few more piles of books and papers than she would have pictured from a guy who seemed so neat and tidy in every other aspect of his life.

Coffee.

She needed coffee.

Slipping on enough clothes to be decent, she headed down the stairs barefoot. She liked the feeling of the plush carpet and the hardwood floors against her feet. Algernon skittered out from somewhere, she had no idea where, and she paused to crouch down and let the little thing scramble up her arm to perch on her shoulder. “Morning, cutie.”

He nuzzled into her hair and found a cozy spot. Heading to the kitchen, she quickly found what she needed to put a pot on. She took out three mugs and poured cream into two of them. Once the coffee had filled up enough, she pulled the pot out and filled two of the mugs. She picked them up and headed to the room Harry had claimed as his own.

Leaning against the wall next to the door, she kicked it with her heel. It was a routine she had done a hundred times in their shitty apartments in Boston. She heard Harry let out a muffled response from inside, and she waited.

Different setting, same thing. It made her smile. When Harry opened the door, she wordlessly handed him one of the mugs. He took it and walked into the room, and she followed him. He slumped onto the edge of the bed and took a sip of the scalding-hot substance.

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You drinking coffee that should burn somebody. You can’t burn. I never put it together.”

He frowned. “Glad you never asked me about it. Would’ve felt bad if I had to lie.” He sipped from the mug again and put it down on his nightstand, clearly not caring if it left a ring on the wood surface.

“Would you have? Lied to me, I mean?”

“Not sure, honestly.” He flopped onto his back on the bed, shutting his eyes. “I was there to protect you. Keep you safe.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who hit that guy in the head with the lamp. You just helped me move him before he woke up.”

“I still helped.”

Laughing, she nudged his foot and sipped her own coffee. It was still too hot, though, so she blew on it and let it sit for a second. “Sorry about last night. I’ll try to keep it down in the future.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I can just imagine it now. ‘Dear Journal. They’re at it again. Please, God, give me death. Love, Harry.’”

“That’s honestly pretty damn accurate.” He yawned sleepily and dropped his head heavily on the pillow.

“Are we okay?”

“We’re always okay, Mags. You know that.”

“I know, I know. I’m just…I’m fucking your arch-nemesis.” She watched as Algernon jumped from her shoulder to the bed and began digging through the folds in the sheets for no particular reason that she could tell, except for the fun of it.

“He’s not my arch-nemesis. The only one of those I have is the goddamn waking world.” He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Damn it, Mags, I want to sleep.”

“So go back to sleep and I’ll leave you alone.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean I’m tired of it. Of all of it. I don’t know if I can do this again.”

With a long breath, she stood and put her coffee down next to his, before flopping on the bed beside him and resting her head on his chest. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re like this. If I were okay—if I were right in the head—then he wouldn’t need to keep dragging you into this along with me.”

Tags: Kathryn Ann Kingsley Memento Mori Fantasy
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