11
“Rue.”
Zooming for all she was worth, Colby shot into my room and made wide laps around the ceiling.
Dizzy from the acrobatics, I dropped my gaze. “How much sugar have you had today, ma’am?”
For her to be this hyped, she must have stayed awake all day, probably raiding and pillaging.
Ignoring the question, which was answer enough, she asked, “I get to go with you, right?”
“Last night wasn’t exciting enough?” I made up my bed. “You need more adventure?”
“Yep.” She brandished a silver rod in one hand. “I’m ready for action.”
“What’s that in your hand?” I squinted, then wished I hadn’t noticed. “Who gave you a sword?”
“Clay and I did arts and crafts on the porch.”
“Please don’t poke an eye out, yours or anyone else’s.”
“I make no promises.”
“Scoot.” I dug through my luggage. “I need to dress.”
“Okay.” She swooped so close, she could have parted my hair with her art project. “Later.”
Alone at last, I rushed through my hygiene routine, pulled on fresh clothes, and strapped on my kit.
Pulse kicking up at the prospect of facing Asa, I joined the others in the kitchen for breakfast.
Sadly, the kind that didn’t taste much different from the box you poured it from. There had simply been no time to bake, and I hadn’t been in a mood for it with Asa recovering. Now we all had to suffer.
The remaining black witch had lost their partner, and their zombigo. They would come for us. Tonight. We needed to be ready when it happened, and that meant we had to eat and get out there.
A wig box sat next to Clay’s elbow, its lid covered in silver moth footprints and its sides full of holes.
Leaning on the counter, I studied Clay. “Who thought giving Colby a sword was a good idea?”
“You’re always telling the kid to unplug.” He twirled his spoon. “What’s the problem?”
“You weaponized her.” I leaned in close. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“The edges are dull.” Asa moved in behind me, almost touching. “There’s not much of a point either.”
As nice as it felt having his warmth at my back, I had to keep my wits about me. “You made it?”
“I whittled her sword, yes. On the drive here.” He reached around me, caging me in his arms, and poured cereal into bowls. “I also carved her a shield, and other items relevant to her interests, to occupy her if the internet went down.”
“I’ll teach her how to use her new arsenal,” Clay promised. “I haven’t used a sword in years, but it’s like riding a bike. It comes back to you.”
About to address the issue of an arsenal, and a battle-trained moth, I opened my mouth only to have a spoon shoved into it as Clay leaned across the counter.
A subtle growl rose over my shoulder, and Asa froze halfway to filling our bowls with milk.
“You taste that?” Clay’s lips pulled to one side. “It’s like fu—” He cleared his throat. “It’s like cardboard.”
Crunching the cinnamon-sugar mouthful, I shrugged. “What do you expect from a box?”