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Scratch. Scratch.
My eyes whip to the bathroom door. I hold my breath and squeeze my fingers around the shotgun, which will do absolutelyno good against thousands of knife-wielding carnivores the size of a grain of rice.
Scratch, scratch.
Okay. That’s not a troll.If it were, they’d come in under the door. If it’s something large, I can take it on.
I tiptoe out of the tub and get my shotgun ready. I unlock the door and jerk it open, lowering my weapon in one fell swoop.
Looking up at me is a black and white polka-dotted Great Dane.
“Master? What the hell are you doing here?” He’s supposed to be hiding. I dive down and wrap one arm around his neck.
“Lake, why are you in the bathroom with a shotgun?”
I look up, and hovering over me in jeans and a red flannel shirt is Bard. My mouth falls open.
“Is that rat back? I told you I’d set the traps. And I really don’t advise shooting a gun inside the house.”
“Bard? Wha-wha-what are you doing here?”
He gives me a funny look. “Did you hit your head?”
I step out into the hall and hug him tight. He’s warm and breathing. Am I dreaming?
He gently pushes me off.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Unable to speak, I look around the hallway. This looks like my grandma’s mansion, but the floors are shiny and polished. The plaster isn’t cracked. It even smells clean. No mold.
“Let me take that.” Bard swipes the gun from my hands and urges me to come with him. “Let’s get you sitting down.”
He takes me to the parlor, which is beautiful and bright. The ceiling has no water stains. The books aren’t rotting on the shelves. There’s a fire crackling in the pristine, soot-free fireplace. I sit on a couch with golden tapestry. It’s an antique but in perfect condition.
“I’ll get you some water. Stay right there.”
I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I do, but I don’t know how I changed things.
Master comes and sits at my feet.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper. “You’re supposed to be hiding.”
He stares but doesn’t do much more.
“So we’re back to this?” I hiss. “Can’t you at least nod?”
Bard returns, and when he does, he takes my breath away. The blue, blue eyes. The strong jaw and wide shoulders. He’s a little less gray, but his thick dark hair is down to his shoulders. His beard isn’t a bushy mess either. It’s neatly groomed.
“I thought you weren’t speaking to Master after he dug up your favorite rose bush?” He hands me a glass of water.
“Bard, you have to tell me what’s going on. Do we win? Do you win? Did the wall fall? Is it over?” Because if the wall was defended, then there’s no way he can be here right now. “What happened to all the monsters?”
“Lake, are you sure you’re okay? Is it the hormones? I know the doctor said you’d be a little moody but…”
I look down. My stomach is huge. I gasp and push back into the couch. “When did that happen?”
“Uh, eight months ago. What the hell is going on, Lake?” He sounds like he’s losing his patience. That, or I’m freaking him the hell out.
