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I frown. “In what way?”
“I’m not going to tell you,” she says, lifting her chin. “I know how you are. If I tell you how much I enjoyed that sandwich, not only will you never make me another one, you’ll probably swear off keeping jam in your home and bury your butter knives in the back yard.”
I grunt, knowing she’s right.
Or would have been, even a few days ago.
But now, no matter how many times I remind myself of my promises and vows…I’m softening. Weakening.
I should start making plans to leave Nightfall as soon as Darcy and Colin are prepared to defend the clan against whoever stole those plans. Instead, I push thoughts of ships bound to Europe and epic wanders through the Canadian arctic during the pitch black of winter from my head and cover Annie’s hand with mine, warming it through her mitten as I grumble, “If you’re rescuing my library, the least I can do is make you a decent sandwich.”
“It was so much more than decent,” she says, clutching her stomach as it lets out a long, low growl. “See? I’m already craving another one. Maybe with pickles this time.”
“I may have been without a human digestive system for a few hundred years, but even I know pickles and fig jam don’t belong on the same sandwich.”
“Oh, sure they do. And maybe something crunchy, too. Like candied walnuts.” Her stomach rumbles again. “I wonder what Kitty’s cooking for dinner. And if she made enough for one more…”
I turn right at the next street, causing Annie to turn her head, staring back over our shoulders. “Where are we going? The house is that way.”
“But the gyro cart is this way.” I tip my nose up, scenting the air. “Smells like Milo has lamb and chicken on offer tonight.”
“Lamb and chicken? Omg, can we get one of each? Or maybe two?” Her wide eyes lock on mine, the excitement in her expression making me laugh. “What?” she asks, her grin stretching wider.
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen someone so small so thrilled about food. When I met you, I assumed you were one of those women who survived on milky tea and a stale cracker every now and then.”
She snorts, and I find it adorable, the way I do nearly everything about this woman. “Heck, no. I’m a food lover from way back. All we Wonderfully girls are. A side effect from never having enough of it growing up, probably. Wait until spring equinox and you’ll see. We always make five or six cakes to celebrate and by the time the sun sets we’ve eaten every one.” She squeezes my arm again. “But, of course, this year we’ll start the celebration later. So all our nocturnal friends can come. Is there a vampire substitute for cake?”
“Yes, but it’s repulsive. Not something you’d want at a party. Best to stick to blood punch,” I hear myself saying, instead of insisting that I don’t intend to be here in the spring and that if for some reason I still am, I won’t be attending a party at the Wonderfully compound.
I try to work up the will to draw that line in the sand, but we’re already at the gyro cart and Annie is bouncing up and down with excitement, and I’m too busy insisting she let me pay for her supper to push her away at the moment. Besides, we still have six more days together. There’s plenty of time to re-establish boundaries.
No need to make her miserable the entire time she’s staying at the cabin.
Misery, after all, is easy to create. I’m an expert when it comes to summoning sorrow to my side. Once I decide to pull the trigger, I’ll be able to alienate Annie without breaking a sweat. I’ll do so when the time comes, even if simply thinking about it fills my mouth with a taste like lemon-tainted blood.
We settle at one of the picnic tables under the tarp behind the stall, watching the people of Nightfall bustle past on their way home from work or to play rehearsals or music lessons or one of a dozen other things the living find to occupy their time.
If only they knew how short that time truly was…perhaps they would slow down and make their decisions more carefully.
As if reading my mind, Annie murmurs, “Everyone’s always so busy, aren’t they? Even here. It makes me miss our cabin in the woods sometimes. Sure, we went without food and heat when things were tough, but we had so much time. All the time in the world. Time for daydreams and naps and being bored on a summer day.” She sighs wistfully. “Remember being bored? Wasn’t it kind of wonderful?”
Fighting the insane urge to lean over and wipe a dab of dill sauce from the corner of her mouth, I murmur, “Yes, it was.”
She smiles. “You don’t get bored alone in your cabin?”
“No. I…”
“You what?”
“I spend too much time in pain,” I hear myself confess and regret it immediately. I shake my head, cursing beneath my breath. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re like truth serum to me sometimes. It’s…”
She sets the uneaten half of her final pita on her plate, wiping her fingers with a napkin. “It’s…”
I shake my head again. “Nothing.”
“Irritating? Frustrating?” She drops her voice to a whisper as she adds, “Terrible?”
I nod, a tight laugh escaping my throat. “Yes. How did you know?”
