opened the door to Blackwood Lodge, I could only pray that she was right.
ith Cassandra’s arm around me, supporting at least some of my weight, I suddenly realized how tired I was. Exhaustion hit me in a wave, threatening to pull me under. I tried to remember the last time I’d slept, truly slept, and couldn’t. Fighting and running in the Dreamtime didn’t exactly count as restful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, either; this fact announced itself in the form of a loud, angry growl coming from my stomach. By my own reckoning, I had only been gone for a few days, but those days took their toll all at once. I swayed where I stood.
Cassandra reached for me immediately. She didn’t bother with stupid questions, just gently steered me into the front room of the Lodge, then paused to put her free hand on her hip and glare at me as if I had already dared to disagree with her.
“You’re going to eat some breakfast and have a rest,” she announced like a woman who was rarely disobeyed. “We’ll find you some clean clothes, and a bath, too.”
Her nose wrinkled ever so slightly as she looked at my torn and, by this time, filthy gown. I felt like I had been wearing it for days. I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered, and I probably smelled like a dungeon, too. Cassandra would get no arguments from me. Her plan sounded absolutely heavenly.
A sudden thought stopped me. “How is it breakfast already? It was still night when we passed through the portal.”
Cassandra shrugged.
I knew she didn’t have the answer I was seeking.
“There were some… difficulties in the portal,” Asheroth answered, leaving out the part about my gift going wild on me. “Sometimes, time passes oddly between Gates.”
Cassandra nodded as if this made perfect sense, even though it left me with more questions than answers. But I decided they could wait until the promise of a hot breakfast had been fulfilled.
“Ethan, you’re coming too,” Cassandra announced. She cast a backward look at Asheroth, seeming to hesitate.
I remembered that Fallen angels didn’t eat; never once had Asheroth touched a morsel of food in my presence.
“I’ll stay outside, thanks,” he said, sounding mildly alarmed. “I’ll just wait out here for the others to arrive.”
With that, he slunk into the shadows of the porch. I had just enough time to wonder what he meant by others when Cassandra roughly propelled me forward. Ethan and Logan followed.
Several doors led off the small front room, which seemed to serve as part foyer, part mudroom. Shoes of all sizes, some of them quite dirty, stood arranged in rows to the side of the main entrance. A bucket overflowing with gardening implements leaned against the far wall. Logan had slipped around me; he stood right in front of one of the heavy wooden doors. His eyes were playful as they locked on to mine.
“Whatever you do, don’t panic,” he said mock-ominously.
Panic? What?
Cassandra merely rolled her eyes theatrically and shoved him aside, something he tolerated with amusement. I knew he must have let her shove him. Someone as strong as Logan couldn’t be moved by a mere human unless he let her. I had no time to think about that, though, as I entered a cavernous space that was both kitchen and dining room.
The scene in front of me stopped me in my tracks as soon as I walked through the doorway.
Logan and I had lived on our own for so long that I had gotten used to just the two of us at meal times. Our house was usually quiet, and we rarely invited guests over, especially after Logan got sick. I was used to a home full of peace, and the chaos in front of me was anything but. My head swam and my vision blurred as I looked at the loudest, wildest household I could ever have imagined.
A cacophony of movement and sound swelled around me. A blonde woman with sky-blue eyes stood over a wood-burning, cast iron stove. She vigorously stirred a pot of what looked like
ith Cassandra’s arm around me, supporting at least some of my weight, I suddenly realized how tired I was. Exhaustion hit me in a wave, threatening to pull me under. I tried to remember the last time I’d slept, truly slept, and couldn’t. Fighting and running in the Dreamtime didn’t exactly count as restful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, either; this fact announced itself in the form of a loud, angry growl coming from my stomach. By my own reckoning, I had only been gone for a few days, but those days took their toll all at once. I swayed where I stood.
Cassandra reached for me immediately. She didn’t bother with stupid questions, just gently steered me into the front room of the Lodge, then paused to put her free hand on her hip and glare at me as if I had already dared to disagree with her.
“You’re going to eat some breakfast and have a rest,” she announced like a woman who was rarely disobeyed. “We’ll find you some clean clothes, and a bath, too.”
Her nose wrinkled ever so slightly as she looked at my torn and, by this time, filthy gown. I felt like I had been wearing it for days. I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered, and I probably smelled like a dungeon, too. Cassandra would get no arguments from me. Her plan sounded absolutely heavenly.
A sudden thought stopped me. “How is it breakfast already? It was still night when we passed through the portal.”
Cassandra shrugged.
I knew she didn’t have the answer I was seeking.
“There were some… difficulties in the portal,” Asheroth answered, leaving out the part about my gift going wild on me. “Sometimes, time passes oddly between Gates.”
Cassandra nodded as if this made perfect sense, even though it left me with more questions than answers. But I decided they could wait until the promise of a hot breakfast had been fulfilled.
“Ethan, you’re coming too,” Cassandra announced. She cast a backward look at Asheroth, seeming to hesitate.
I remembered that Fallen angels didn’t eat; never once had Asheroth touched a morsel of food in my presence.
“I’ll stay outside, thanks,” he said, sounding mildly alarmed. “I’ll just wait out here for the others to arrive.”
With that, he slunk into the shadows of the porch. I had just enough time to wonder what he meant by others when Cassandra roughly propelled me forward. Ethan and Logan followed.
Several doors led off the small front room, which seemed to serve as part foyer, part mudroom. Shoes of all sizes, some of them quite dirty, stood arranged in rows to the side of the main entrance. A bucket overflowing with gardening implements leaned against the far wall. Logan had slipped around me; he stood right in front of one of the heavy wooden doors. His eyes were playful as they locked on to mine.
“Whatever you do, don’t panic,” he said mock-ominously.
Panic? What?
Cassandra merely rolled her eyes theatrically and shoved him aside, something he tolerated with amusement. I knew he must have let her shove him. Someone as strong as Logan couldn’t be moved by a mere human unless he let her. I had no time to think about that, though, as I entered a cavernous space that was both kitchen and dining room.
The scene in front of me stopped me in my tracks as soon as I walked through the doorway.
Logan and I had lived on our own for so long that I had gotten used to just the two of us at meal times. Our house was usually quiet, and we rarely invited guests over, especially after Logan got sick. I was used to a home full of peace, and the chaos in front of me was anything but. My head swam and my vision blurred as I looked at the loudest, wildest household I could ever have imagined.
A cacophony of movement and sound swelled around me. A blonde woman with sky-blue eyes stood over a wood-burning, cast iron stove. She vigorously stirred a pot of what looked like
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