“—and a kind young—” she paused and asked, “Will you be a man or a woman?”
“Man,” I said through clenched teeth.
“And a kind young man saved me. He’s a mage, you know, quite useful on a quest.” She beamed at me. “What do you think?”
“It might work.”
“Perfect!” She clapped her hands together and hopped up and down in excitement. “Now, I can’t arrive in Misfortune until a reasonable amount of time has passed.”
I certainly did not want to spend the next ten days with her. “This isn’t an inn.”
“It is now,” she chirped and skipped past me.
I could forcefully remove her, but if she wanted to stay here as my willing guest rather than a prisoner, at least I could keep an eye on her. “Don’t touch any—”
She was gone before I finished my warning.
Cursing her into a cat sounded more and more appealing. At least then she couldn’t interfere with my work. Though catswereknown for knocking things over and getting into places they shouldn’t. Having a smaller body would only help her efforts.
I sighed and called for Mimsy. The green imp fluttered into the room so quickly the little fiend had clearly been listening at the door. “Prepare a room for our guest.”
Now that I had a much needed ally, this time would go better. I could feel it in the air.Thiswould be the time Treasure and I finally reunited.
Chapter Twelve: Trey
Back at the Beginning
The Same Damn Bedroom
Sick of this Shit
I was tired of waking up in the wrong gods damned place.
Worse, I didn’t knowwhyI was annoyed about waking up in my own bedroom. The same bedroom I’d woken up in thousands of times before. It should be comforting, or at least so routine that I barely registered the location. Instead, I was already scowling before even opening my eyes.
I jumped out of bed and threw the door open. On the other side, Dad took a startled step back, his raised fist shifting from a knocking position into a fight stance. Once he realized I was his son, not an intruder running from the scene of a crime, he relaxed and pressed his palm to his racing heart.
“Trey—”
“Someone is either fucking with my head or with everything else.”
He blinked at me. “Fuck.”
That was it. No questions, no doubts, just a simple curse. “Have you felt it too?”
“Since I’m not exactly sure what you mean, no, but I trust you.”
The word ‘trust’ needled my heart with a sharp, mocking pain. Why did I feel guilty that my dad trusted me? When I tried to think of any time I’d lied to him, the memories were like an empty room—bare walls, nothing personalized, just the knowledge I’d donesomethingto lose that trust.
“We should tell your father,” Dad said, then turned on his heel and walked down the hallway toward the dining room.
Father was already at the table. His freckled face lit up the moment we walked into the room. He shifted in his seat and opened one arm in invitation. Dad slotted himself perfectly into that space, allowing Father to wrap an arm around his waist and leaning down to kiss him gently.
Another needle pricked my heart. With it, the briefest memory—a sweet kiss turning rough and bloody as teeth joined the mix.My teeth, or someone else’s? Or both? Was it a passionate kiss or an angry one?
I heard the murmured conversation of Dad explaining what I’d told him. Father’s brow furrowed and he said, “We should take breakfast in my office.”
That felt right and wrong at the same time. I loaded a plate with food and led the charge to my father’s office. Father and Dad were several steps behind me. Although they were worried, they didn’t feel the same urgency. We needed to get throughthispart to get to thenextpart, whatever that was.
