Chapter 6
April sighed her relief as the man collapsed onto the bed of the spare bedroom. Supporting him up a flight of stairs hadn't been easy. Though he was lean, he was very tall, and she hadn't lied when she said he was heavier than he looked. Combined with his short temper, incessant demands, and sheer ingratitude, she was glad to finally be rid of the arrogant bastard.
She felt a little guilty as she stared down at him though. His breathing was laboured, he was grimacing in pain, and he looked even paler than before. The journey up the stairs had evidently been a trial for him too.
"So, enlighten me," he wheezed, as he finally sprawled upon his back, hands splayed across his stomach.
"What?"
He glared at her as if she were stupid. "Your name."
"Oh."
"Well?" he pressed. "You seemed so anxious for me to know it, so do tell! Do not keep me in suspense."
Dangerous or not, April was a breath away from telling him to go to hell. His words were dripping with sarcasm.
"April," she threw back, just as shortly.
His slight hesitation was swiftly followed by: "No, I believe it is the Midgardian month of June at present," but his mocking smirk wasn't to last, wiped from his face by another grimace. April noticed that his hands had clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
"Look, can I...get you something? Some pain killers or something?"
"There is nothing on Midgard that can combat such potent magic," he sneered, though his voice was becoming so hoarse she could barely make out his words. He swallowed, trying to clear his throat. "Water," he demanded instead, and then to April's shock he added rather desperately: "...please..."
Nodding briskly, she hurried back down the stairs, through the living room, and into the sunlit kitchen. The cat looked up at her anxiously from the tiled floor, bushy tail swishing agitatedly back and forth.
"You look as antsy as I feel, Sash," she sighed, snatching up a glass and taking it to the sink.
As she was filling it she took a deep breath.
Was this really happening?
Was there really a man laying, maybe dying, on her spare bed? A man from another world...planet...dimension...wherever it was he came from.
The big question was, could she trust him? What happened if he recovered? He seemed dangerous enough half dead so just how formidable would he be normally? He was obviously no ordinary man. He had powers. Magical powers. And she had no idea to what extent.
As she was returning back through the living room with the glass in her hand she stopped suddenly, her concerns quickly making way for curiosity when she noticed a book lying upon the living room floor. It certainly wasn't one of hers.
It wasn't very big, about half an A4 page, if that. Its red leather cover was beautifully ornate, the title scribed in gold lettering, surrounded by decorative symbols and scrolls. It looked extremely old, as if it should be in a museum of antiquities, locked away in a display case, beneath a protective layer of glass, yet despite this appearance of fragility it looked somehow...powerful.
She instinctively knew it was connected to the man upstairs. How could it not be? There were also splatters of blood on the rug beside it and she guessed this was where he had first appeared.
She knelt down to get a better look.
Seidr
The title sent a shiver running down her spine, though more from excitement than fear. She had no idea what it meant, whether it was the name of something, or a word in a different language. It didn't matter. A book was a book. And books were her addiction. They had also been her only comfort since she had lost David, her only escape from the cruel reality of his death.
She reached for it but stopped with a start, some sixth sense warning her that the book was as dangerous as the man upstairs. She swallowed nervously, slowly wafting her hand a few inches above it, alarmed to feel a slight tingling sensation in her fingers.
"My god..."
She searched the air around it but could see nothing. Yet there was definitely something there. An aura surrounding it. A tension. Some strange anomaly. She could feel it even if she couldn't see it.
She stood up reluctantly, loathe to abandon such a beautiful book, but telling herself that she would have to be patient. Hopefully, the man wouldn't die and she could question him about it. If he did die...well, she would take the risk and read it anyway.
When she returned to the spare bedroom, his eyes were closed and he looked very still, but she could see from the rise and fall of his chest that he was still in the land of the living. His brow glistened with sweat, however, his long raven-black hair slick with it.
"Your water," she said quietly, and his eyes opened wearily. They were glazed and terribly bloodshot and she feared his health was rapidly deteriorating.
He lifted slightly, reaching out for the glass, but as she handed it to him she noticed his brow furrow. He hesitated, his finger lightly brushing the top of her hand, making her flinch and almost spill some of the water.
"And what is this?" he murmured.
The scar across her wrist seemed to throb at his invasive touch. "None of your business."
Taking the glass he drained its contents thirstily.
When she took the empty glass from him, placing it upon the bedside table, he laid back down, regarding her soberly. "Mortal lives are short enough. I would have thought it not in your best interests to shorten it any further."
"You said you wanted to rest," she pointed out curtly, having no desire to talk about such painful times. "So I'll leave you to rest."
She turned and made to exit the room. There was nothing else she could do for him now. She had tolerated his abuse long enough, longer than he deserved. She was also eager to return to the living room and take another look at that book.
"Wait."
She hesitated in the doorway, finally glancing back at him.
The pain was getting worse, she could clearly see the strain upon his face. A vein pulsed angrily in his taut neck as he struggled to swallow again.
"Did you want some more water?"
His chest heaved and he looked conflicted, as if he were struggling some inner quandary, battling both frustration and despair.
"If I am to die...I..." he faltered and their eyes locked.
Despite everything, his arrogance, his dominating presence, the very threat that surrounded him, April felt a lump lodge in her throat. He didn't just look ill, he looked...haunted. But by what demons, she wondered uneasily.
"...I do not wish to die alone..."
Just a quickie little chapter. Might edit it a bit more later.
Reviews always appreciated, thanks! :)