Chapter10
Off Kill-ter
BREXLEY
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Red asks, sliding her coat off. She sets it down on a table that looks like it might collapse under the weight of all the open textbooks and her laptop.
I’m not surprised often, but she keeps managing the feat.
“You live here?” I say, hoping against hope this is some kind of sick joke.
Red furrows her brow in a full out scowl. “Yes,” she snaps. “Now in or out, little doggie, and shut the door.”
I’m too stunned to even respond to her insult.
Red disappears into the next room.
I begrudgingly shut and lock the door behind me with asnickt.
Still hovering at the entrance, I can’t help but notice how one of my legs is bent while the other is completely straight. The floor is horribly tilted. I’m well aware old construction in New England has a tendency to shift and slip, but my senses are shouting at methe whole damn building is going to come down and to get out now.
When Red emerges, she’s in black sweatpants and a soft-looking forest green University shirt. She wrestles with her massive locks, wrapping them up into a messy bun again, tendrils still managing to escape her wrangling. Big puffy slippers cover her feet as she padsupto the kitchenette where she begins to fill the kettle with water.
The small apartment has been painted tangerine and the kitchen cabinets are eggplant purple. I wrinkle my nose, wondering how many of the furniture items she got from a thrift store. I can smell the remnants of all the other families, the other houses, the history.
I’m not a fan of history, or the way it smells.
The scent of mildew wafts off the book-cluttered table. I’d bet my fluffy ass she likely plucked that piece of garbage right off the street.
A human is unlikely to smell the layers of what is assailing my nose, but I feel attacked in this small space. Not only my nose, but my equilibrium, because of the fucked-up floor.
“Want some tea?” Red asks without turning around, pulling down a box of tea from a mostly empty cabinet. “I always need a cup of chamomile to signal to my brain that it’s time to sleep, otherwise I’ll be up past dawn.”
“Why—why do you live here?”
Red turns around, resting her hip against the counter. “Excuse me?” She raises an eyebrow.
I still refuse to move from the doorway. “You’re right, that came out wrong. Why do you livelike this?” I cast a look of disbelief at her place.
Fae lords, if I weren’t so horrified by her living conditions, I’d be more affected by that pout.
“If you don’t like it, you are more than welcome to leave,” she says coldly.
I start to take a step forward, and I’m immediately disoriented by the floor and stop again. “Seriously, you’re related to the most powerful witch, known for her lifestyle brand of throw pillows, cookie recipes, and comfort. Why in fae lords are you living in a dirty little hovel?”
In a second, she’s across the room poking me in the chest. “First off, we don’t say witch or warlock anymore. It’s an outdated term. My Gigi is a mage. Secondly, my apartment is not dirty.”
She may think I’m crass, but I’m far too much a gentleman to tell her about the smell coming from the magenta fabric she fashioned into makeshift curtains.
“Did she cut you off?” I lean in. “Because the way you talk about your grandma led me to believe you have a good relationship, but this. . .a person would only live like this if exiled to it.”
Red’s eyes flash, a blush building in her cheeks. She lets out a pissed off snort that reminds me of a bull.
“I’ll have you know, I choose to live like this.”
I’m not fast enough to mask the horror that crosses my face.
Red’s eyes turn to slits. “Is this why you work for my grandma? You want the bougie lifestyle and sweet pay? I wouldn’t have pegged you for one of her shallow servants who kiss ass to get the perks.”
