Chapter 4.37 – Daze

“Wakey, wakey, Sleepyhead.”

Broof blinked his eyes open and rolled them around the forest until they landed on her. Lilith smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh…” Broof made some sort of guttural mortal noise and shifted into a seated position. “Like I’ve been run over by a—”

“Werewolf?” Lilith finished and patted him on his arm, which must hurt quite a bit as he flinched and reached up to stop her.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing the wound that Leyla had accidentally inflicted on him in the scuffle that had ensued when Bruno rampaged down the dock.

“It was a full moon and, well, Bruno got out of his pen.” Lilith fished in her inventory and pulled out a crumpled flower. “Oh, and I somehow came by this.”

Broof nodded then stopped, lost in his thoughts as he added two and two together.

“You!” he finally said, leaping to his feet. “You let him out so you could steal the death flower!”

Lilith carefully placed the flower back into storage. “Don’t be mad—”

“Mad?” Broof coughed. “Mad?! Lilith, they needed that flower—”

“So do we!”

“You let a werewolf run riot – Lilith, people could have died! People might’ve died! Oh my god, we need to go back! We can’t go back, they’ll kill you. I can never go back either. Lilith!” Broof finished, exasperated. He swiped his errant curl back from his forehead, counted to ten, and turned to face her. “What do we do now?”

“We go home,” she said simply, dusting herself off and turning towards the path. “Can you walk with your poorly arm and weak disposition, or do I need to carry you the other half of the way?”

“You carried me halfway?”

“Yes.”

“…Why didn’t you leave me?”

Lilith faltered and turned back. “Why would I leave you?”

His eyes glistened. “I was injured; you could have left me. But… you didn’t…”

Lilith rolled her eyes. “You got a little bolt in the arm and fainted; you were hardly at death’s door. Besides,” she blew her fringe from her eyes. “You are my willing donor; I couldn’t very well leave you behind.”

Broof’s shoulders dropped. “Oh right, yes, of course. I’m sustenance.” He began to walk down the path.

Lilith looked at the back of the bearded man and got that annoying feeling in her chest again. She caught up in three paces and stopped in front of him. “Stop sulking.”

“I’m not sulking, I just know my place, is all.” He rubbed his neck. “I see you had a snack while I was unconscious.”

“Only a small one.”

“Technically, I didn’t consent to that.”

“Technically, I’d just saved your skin.”

“Well, technically you were the one who put my skin in danger.”

Lilith growled. “Did you want to wait decades in that backwater village for another flower to bloom on the off chance that someone might not need it more than we did? No, didn’t think so.”

“I just think there would’ve been another way to get it that didn’t involve letting a rabid wolf loose on a village where there were children.”

“The children were well out of the way.” Lilith huffed. “Trust me, no one died. The man you were talking to got knocked into the swamp and you got hit while Leyla and the elders were restraining Bruno, but other than that it was fine.”

She stomped on ahead as Broof caught up, this time blocking her path. “How can you be so blasé? Things could have gone horribly, horribly wrong with your plan, Lilith. And now, not only can I never go back to that village, but we have a flower that we don’t know how to use and have burned any bridges we were building with those who might’ve known how to use it!”

“I’m sure you and Wyatt can figure it out—”

“And what if we can’t?” Broof ran his hand down his face and groaned. “What if the flower dies before we figure it out, did you consider that?”

“Well, no but—”

Broof laughed around a sob. “We’ve blown it. You. You’ve bloody blown it.”

Lilith didn’t know what to do. She gently twiddled the flower and looked out into the forest. She could already feel the petals softening, the stem losing its firmness. She was annoyed. With herself. With him.

Broof shook his head at her and started off down the path without another word. It was so unlike him. She’d really upset him and she cared and she didn’t know how to fix it.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she had blown it.

There really was bugger all to do with no electricity. And nobody seemed to be around, except for Caleb, who she was avoiding. She knew that he’d want to fuck the day away and, to be honest, Faith wasn’t sure she wanted that.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to – Caleb was pretty hot, after all even with his empty eye socket and cracked skin – just that since he’d left her by herself the previous night in favour of yet another blonde girl, she felt like she wanted him to stew a bit.

That and – whisper it – a certain dark and handsome someone had started to wheedle his way back in and she – whisper it – thought that she might, might be starting to feel a little something for him again.

The whole thing had left her confused.

Faith had taken a long but cold bath with lots of oils.

Too many oils really, she’d had to slither out of the tub into a puddle on the bathroom floor. Trying to get up had put her into the splits and now her bits were sore. After she’d managed to scrape off most of the sheen, she’d gone into her room to try on some of the gowns in the wardrobe. She’d thought they were Kitty’s but some were huge and some even smaller than Kitty was so she guessed they’d once belonged to prey or something.

Faith took out a ridiculous, frilly thing and pulled it on over her head, fussing with the laces and straps until it was sort of closed.

She walked over to the mirror to check herself out, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t do that anymore. Staring into the empty mirror, she imagined that she looked like a flouncy cupcake and was about to rip the thing off when the sound of heavy boots stopped her.

“Ugh, you again?” she teased, turning to face Seth.

He entered the room, his eyes scanning her from head to toe to head. “You look—”

“Like a ribboned minge?” Faith offered, and did a little twirl. “You still would though, wouldn’t you?”

The corner of Seth’s mouth turned up but that was all the response he gave. He lingered for a moment then left.

Faith huffed and tried to tug the dress over her head.

The half-tied laces of the inner corset catching on her arms and becoming a tangle above her head, leaving her completely and utterly stuck with her lower half exposed.

Shit!

She struggled against the dress, tried tugging it down and then pulling it back up but it only seemed to make the situation worse. She fought against her fabric prison until she stumbled into something and felt herself fall, face first. She braced herself for impact but it never came; the cold hands at her waist steadying her and setting her back to her feet.

At first, she thought it was Seth but when the fire and ice laugh started, her heart sank.

Caleb slapped her naked ass. Faith struggled in the dress, managing to free an arm to steady herself and turning to where Caleb was standing. Peeking through a gap in the lace, Faith could just make out Caleb, grinning at her.

With her arm free, she managed to yank the dress down into place.

Caleb eyed her hungrily and advanced again, running his hands up and down the bodice of this ugly dress. He leaned in to kiss her, tugging at her lip with his fangs and offering his tongue to her own as his roaming hands found an opening she’d ripped into the skirt. She groaned into his mouth as his fingers found her sweet spot, reciprocating his kiss.

His mouth moved from her lips to her ear and he purred, “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

She squirmed and tried to rein in her wild brain. “Caleb… wait a minute.”

“Mmm,” Caleb murmured as he unfastened his trousers. “I don’t want to wait.”

“No, seriously.” Faith dragged Caleb’s hand away and pushed him back. He stumbled slightly and blinked at her in a horny daze.

“Come on, Faith,” he whined. “It’s my birthday.”

“Not like you to pull a line.”

“But it is,” he grinned. “August 8^th. I’m 308 today.”

“You should’ve said; I’d have got you a present. You like socks, right?”

“I don’t mind socks.”

“Sorry, no socks in here only fugly dresses.”

“That dress is nice. And never mind the socks. You can still give me a present,” he growled, advancing on her again, this time pulling at her corset strings that seemed to unravel easily at his touch. She slapped his hands away.

“Not today.”

He pouted. “Why not?”

“I’m just… not in the mood.”

“You smell like you’re in the mood.”

“Well, I’m not. Go bother your blondes.”

Caleb tilted his head; a shadow passed across his broken features and his remaining eye turned glassy. “All right. I suppose I will.”

He turned and headed out of the room, glancing back a couple of times before he disappeared.

Faith closed the door and, with the strings all undone, thanks to Caleb, was able to wriggle out of the dress. She stood, naked, for a while, thinking about the exchange with Caleb, the one with Seth.

Why was everything so complicated?

April, who had been browsing the weird and wonderful range of ingredients in the witch’s pantry jumped a mile and clutched at her chest as Wyatt stumbled on the last step, and into the wall. He groaned and rolled his crushed face to the side, trying to see through the stars.

“’Night Apes,” he slurred and pushed himself up.

April baulked. “Wyatt! It’s seven in the morning!” she clapped her hands. “The party must have been so much fun for you to stay out so late! Tell me all about it – was there magic? Was there food?”

Wyatt wiped his hand down his face. “Yeah… there was magic. And there was food.”

“Did you have a very nice time?”

He looked at her gleeful little face and felt another wave of puke roll up inside him. “Yeah,” he lied. “I had a great time.”

She made a giddy little noise. “Tell me all about it, please? I want to know what happens so maybe one day, when I’m cured, I can go too and I’ll know what to expect?”

Wyatt’s temples were thumping. Granted, he often had a sore head the morning after any kind of coven party, but this was nothing to do with merriment and mead. This was the result of a night of heavy substances and far too much vodka.

He looked at his palms which were still frustratingly blank, despite him having definitely spoken to Wartilda.

He wondered if Moon’s spell had gone awry and he’d lost all the notes he’d made. But he also couldn’t have really cared less about the notes at that moment.

April was still bopping happily, oblivious to his state, or maybe choosing not to see it. “Okay,” she said, a little sadly. “You’re very tired and a bit tipsy and I understand that, you go have a sleep and we can talk later, okay?” she walked over and gave him a little kiss on the cheek and then shrank back. “What’s the matter?”

Wyatt hadn’t realised that he had tears on his cheeks until he felt April’s wet little nose. He pulled her in for a squeeze and held her tight. “Nothing, I’m just tired,” he mumbled into her hair. “And drunk,” he laughed, and she laughed too, although it wasn’t a happy laugh.

He let her go and felt all his stability go with her, leaving him jelly-legged. “I’m gonna go lie down.”

April nodded “Goodnight… dad.”

Oh god.

He felt her watching him as he wobbled to the door and fumbled with the knob.

He staggered across the kitchen – a well-worn route after big nights out, and into his bedroom. He collapsed on to the bed, well, near the bed, and that’s when the floodgates opened.

He’d totally screwed up.

Wartilda was pregnant.

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