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“Told you I’m a gentleman.”
“What are you pulling from anyway?” She turned back to the pantry and picked out a package of noodles. “Hopefully not the microwave. All you have in this place is microwavable or ramen.”
“Sounds like me. Meals of champions and college kids.” He walked past her to a panel on the wall, a metal door covering the breaker box. “The solar panels have been keeping a charge in this place. I seemed to have drained a third of the reserve last night.”
“Only a third?” she asked flippantly as she tossed the prepared package into the microwave.
“I’m game to try for half if you are,” he tossed back and laughed as she felt the damn blush burn across her face. He walked close to her, stopping before he could touch her. “I have to use my emotions, too. Just drawing on energy isn’t enough. Like you thought, there has to be enough of both.”
“What kind of emotion?”
“Passion is the most effective.” He kept leaning forward, waiting for her to lean away from him. She didn’t. She wouldn’t. He should know better by now. She didn’t back down from a challenge.
Her autumn-colored eyes blinked, and she reached through him to get to her noodles. He fell through her to the other side of the kitchen, catching himself on the counter. She peeled off the last of the film and blew innocently on the food to cool them.
“Is there any way I can talk you out of facing Knight?” He pulled himself up on the counter, flicking his gaze back to her after no response. She was happy to note he reeled back when he saw the simmering fury in her expression.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I get it. Shoot me again for trying to keep you safe from the homicidal maniac who killed me.”
Anastacia leaned back against the counter next to him.
“I know you don’t think bringing him in is worth it since you know who it is now. But it is. You’re worth it.” She paused, taking another sip of her soup, slurping some noodles in thought. “After our escape from the hospital last night, I’m sure Knight has figured out I know something. He’s a deceitful bastard, but he isn’t an idiot.”
“I’m racking my brain trying to find ways to keep you alive,” Mel sighed, leaning back on his hands. “I’m dead. That can’t be helped and nothing much more can happen to me. I like you a little too much to have you just waltz right back into the station without a plan. And since you won’t run—”
“Nope.” Her voice echoed in the cup.
“What do we do?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t let me run, either, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent Curtis after me. Twice.” She turned back to him, voice softer and more understanding. “I’m going to take a shower and try to figure out something that doesn’t result in me dying and you getting dragged off to God knows where. I’d like to see you again after I die.”
“Years from now if we can help it, please?”
“If we can help it," she agreed, tossing the container into the small trash can by the fridge and speeding to the bathroom.
Mel remained on the counter after he heard the shower turn on. Since the night she was at death’s door, the Gatekeepers were more active than ever. They were everywhere he turned. Every time he and Anastacia had a moment with one another, they were there in the background, peering through a window or hiding in the shadows. He never knew where they were on the spectrum of good and evil. Doing what they did to her mother in front of her made him think they leaned more toward the latter. They were a clean-up service for the less desirable souls struggling on the surface with the living. So, what did they want with Anastacia?
A buzz from the dryer went off, dragging him out of his thoughts. Hopping off the counter, he turned toward the back of his home.
Mel’s body froze at the dark shape on the other side of the frosted glass of the backdoor as if his thoughts had summoned it. A Gatekeeper’s gaze peered through the glass, now completely clear despite the frosted distortion. A gnarled, pitch-black hand, more smoke than a solid shape, pushed through the cracks of the door. The salt border was ineffective against the living shadow. The form of the creature broke apart from one side of the door to bleed into the shadows on the other. It molded itself into a copy of Knight, but the eyes were black instead of Knight’s shocking green. Its focus was locked on Mel, now standing between him and the back door.
As if he would leave Anastacia there to face it alone. He scoffed at the thought.
“Well, hello there. I’ve never been one to turn away company," Mel greeted, his voice unwelcoming and his ears straining to hear Anastacia. The shower was still running and probably blocking out any noise he or the creature may make. The creature tilted its head at the greeting.
The Gatekeeper studied Mel.
“Waiting for me?” Mel pointed to himself as it only answered with another tilt of its head, this time in the other direction. “Okay. I have, uh, questions. I’m sure— even though you seem like the tall, quiet type— you could answer them for me. I know you’re curious, too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be lurking around us.”
Its form shifted a little in place, turning from a dark version of Knight to a smaller form. Halfway through the shift, Mel knew exactly what it was doing.
“You don’t need to change into her. You already know my fear.”
The Gatekeeper stopped before it completely shifted into Anastacia’s silhouette. It bubbled in agreement, like what one would hear from someone grunting in affirmation. It shifted into a large, shapeless black mass, its unblinking eyes never leaving him.
“You already know what I would do for her. I don’t want her to have to make the same decision for me. Is there a way for me to stay after we turn Knight in without you hunting me?”
A shiver went through him as an answer. It was cold with no end, a piece of the darkness the Gatekeepers were a part of and where they would drag him to if he stayed past his time.
