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25
When Maggie woke up,she was lying in bed. She jolted, shocked for a moment that she wasn’t soaking wet and covered in a ridiculous dress. After her momentary panic passed, she recognized the room. She was back in Boston at Gideon’s home. With a groan, she dropped her head back onto the pillow. “Fuck.”
It was morning, the sunlight streaming in the windows. She could smell coffee and breakfast cooking, and that was enough to motivate her. But not before she showered. Something about the rush of hot water and the simple task of soaping up and rinsing off was always so cathartic. It was a time for her to just think. And be.
Toweling off her hair, she changed into a new set of clothes, opting for a light sweater instead of a hoodie since it was still warm, and…honestly, she didn’t feel the need for the bulky hoodie that morning. She walked downstairs and into the kitchen, where Gideon was predictably making breakfast. After grunting a good morning at Harry as she passed him where he sat on a stool at the counter, she sat beside him. Folding her arms on the marble surface, she dropped her forehead onto them and shut her eyes.
“Which one was it?” Gideon asked. She heard a clink and looked up to see a mug of coffee with cream sitting in front of her. He already had his back to her, paying attention to the crepes he was making.
“Paris.”
His movements hitched. “Ah.” He cooked in silence for a moment. “One of my overzealous attempts at wooing you.”
She laughed once. “Sorry I didn’t take it well when you snapped your fingers and the butler was a corpse.”
He still didn’t turn around. “I could have been more subtle, I suppose. I took to showing you less dramatic revelations after that. Such as Algernon, or the like.”
Speaking of, she wondered where the little guy had gone off to. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Lounging in the greenhouse with Mephisto.”
“You brought your dog here? I thought she stayed in London.”
“Yes, well…” Gideon trailed off.
She glanced at Harry, but he just shrugged. Looking back to Gideon, she frowned and sipped her coffee. “Well, what?”
It was a long time before Gideon answered. When he did, his voice was flat and emotionless. “If I am to die, I wish to do it with my beloved pets at my side, so they aren’t so afraid when the end comes.” After a pause, he continued. “And so that I am not as frightened.”
Oh, God. It felt like he had punched her in the stomach. She cringed from the visceral pain of it. “I…”
“No.” He waved dismissively as he poured out another crepe into the pan. “None of that. It is what it is. Life ends. That is the purpose of it, and I have lived longer than any man has any right to.” He picked up a plate of finished crepes and placed it in front of her, then went back to cooking.
It didn’t stop her from feeling vaguely nauseated. She poked at the crepe with her fork and, with a sigh, resigned herself to eating. Even if she felt like she had an empty void inside her. “You’re afraid to die?”
“Of course. Why else do you think I sought eternal life?” The second plate went to Harry. It seemed he was too morose to even pick a fight with the revenant.
“I don’t know…search for knowledge, betterment of mankind, whatever.” She realized she hated seeing him like this. Absolutely down to her bones hated it. He looked so defeated. So empty. So broken.
He shrugged. “On the surface, yes. I thought my mind was a value to humanity. But over the years, I think I’ve come to accept it’s my own childish fear of death that inspired me in the first place.”
God, she really, really hated seeing him like this. He finished cooking his own plate of crepes and took it to the separate kitchen table to eat, as there were no spots left at the counter. She glanced to Harry.
“Go on,” he urged her quietly. “It’s all right.”
Picking up her plate and her coffee, she went to join the defeated necromancer.
“I’m going back to bed.” Harry picked up his own plate and coffee. “Thanks for the grub, twatwaffle.” For all his hatred of Gideon, at least the revenant knew when he deserved a moment of privacy.
“I really don’t understand that invective, but all right,” the necromancer mumbled as he picked at his own breakfast.
Once Harry was gone, she scooted her chair close to Gideon and dragged her plate and mug over. She nudged him with her elbow. “Hey.”
When Gideon didn’t answer, she let out a long sigh. “Look, I don’t know where the fourth piece is. My vision didn’t tell me where it was, so we have plenty of time to figure—”
“I have it.”
Then she understood his mood. And his growing dread back in Northampton the night prior. “Oh,” was the best she could come up with.
