Page 26 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

I lean over her and kiss the middle of her forehead. “There you go,” I say. “Get some rest.”

She levels a pout at me. “That’s not a real kiss,” she says.

“I don’t really want to risk triggering another seizure for you,” I say.

“You think you’re that good? You can kiss me so hard that you press my factory reset button?”

“Sweetheart. We are in your bedroom and you’re not wearing a bra and now all I can think about is the fact that your underwear might match that pretty lavender lace you just threw to the ground,” I say. “But also, yes. I am that good at kissing. And you need to rest. Period.”

She lets out a disgruntled sound before sighing. “Fine,” she says. “Could you please turn on my fan? I need the white noise to sleep.”

I look around until I find a standing fan near her bedroom window and a little writing desk. I walk over to it and click it on, catching a glimpse of a photo on her desk of a much younger, black haired version of Lillith sitting with an older woman with gray hair down to her hips. Lilith is smiling easily and she has a cake sitting in front of her with some of those chunky number candles on it. It looks like it’s a picture of her seventeenth birthday.

“Nan...” Lillith says—or more like slurs.

“Hm?”

“Miss her,” she says. “All the time. S’lonely here without her.”

My heart squeezes as I approach the side of her bed and kneel at the foot of it. I fold my arms and rest my chin there. “If it’s alright with you, Lillith, I’d like to crash on your couch until I’m sure you’re not going to seize while I’m gone. Is that alright?”

Her eyes close and she sighs. “Mmkay,” she says, nuzzling her plush a little harder. I’m honestly not even sure if she’s actually hearing me or is too far gone to her sleepiness already. I decide I’m enough of a bastard to take advantage though. I’m staying. I’m too worried just to bail on her now.

The fan brings in enough of a breeze that it stirs her hair and I watch as she drifts into a peaceful slumber. I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Oren to let him know I’m staying at the apothecary, and head down the stairs to grab the bag of books and the box of pastries. When I come back in, I get a little nosy and look around her shop in the dim illumination of the string lights.

There are signs about readings, spellwork consultations and apothecary classes. Her shelves down here have a lot more by way of oddities. Wet specimens of snakes and octopus and jellyfish. I pick up a pamphlet with a little about section for the shop and read it as I head back up to her apartment. There are cool pictures of her ancestors. Apparently, every one born to her bloodline is always a woman—a strange genetic quirk that I’m not sure I possess the math skills for as far as determining how unlikely that is.

But it’s bizarre, she’s the spitting image of so many of these women—even the ones who lived over a hundred years ago. It’s in the easy way they smile, in the soft look of their large eyes.

I peek into her room again, admittedly a little paranoid that she might seize again. But she’s exactly where I left her about fifteen minutes ago, sleeping soundly.

I linger for a little too long, watching the way Lillith’s pouty lips part as her breathing slows, thinking about how she tasted like tea and honey when I kissed her. Damn, she’s cute. I wish I could climb into her little double-sized bed with her and hold her all night. But that would definitely be taking my bastardry to another level.

I push off the doorframe, finally, and leave the room. I leave the door open so I can hear if she falls from the bed or makes any sounds of distress and I walk out to her living room. The sofa she has is more of a love seat. A cool antique piece but definitely not long enough for my height. Still, I’ve slept in worse spots and I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.

I sit on the couch and unlace my converse before pulling my sweatshirt and my muscle tee off over my head. I unfasten my belt as quietly as possible, cringing a bit when the metal clangs. Thankfully, I don’t hear Lillith stir, so I fold them neatly and drape my beanie over my little pile of belongings before settling into the soft cushions of the couch with my ankles propped up over the arm rest.

Something about Lillith’s apartment feels so safe. Not that the entirety of Del Lune doesn’t already feel like some sort of pocket where crime doesn’t exist, but there is a sort of intimate quality to the small space that feels like nothing could get to me here.

I’m asleep only a few minutes later.

ㅤ

When I wake up the next day, I feel like hell.

It’s not uncommon for me to feel like garbage the day after a seizure, and this one was triggered by an encounter with a demon, so I’m not surprised that I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. I reach up to my neck by force of habit and feel my heart sink all over again when I find the Nightingale pearl gone. It’s surreal in the worst way; the feeling of falling up instead of down and wondering when you and the other shoe will drop.

I’d say it felt like a breakup if I’d ever actually been in a relationship. But, unfortunately I have no past experience to actually contextualize that.

I roll out of my bed and sigh as I stumble out of my bedroom and into the living room.

I make my way toward my kitchen and—Oh, fuck there is a half-naked drummer on my couch.

Uhm.

What?!

He stayed? I remember him taking me home and getting me changed and situated in bed. I remember cracking a joke at how he was suspiciously good at unclasping a bra with only one hand. But things get pretty hazy after that.