Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Who are you?” Garrett asks.
The creature says nothing.
Standing, Garrett cuts his eyes at the creature who’s been haunting him for years. “What do you want?”
“Kill her,” the creature growls. He knows exactly who he’s talking about, and with those words, Garrett leaves the room, trudging out of the hospital to find Willow as a twisted vessel of Decius.
Chapter 29
WILLOW
WILLOW
After grabbing everything we need, we leave my apartment and drive to Waffle House. It’s better than sitting at my place where Decius can return with one of his vessels and try to kill us.
When the waitress asks what we’ll have to drink, I request a coffee. Caz asks for sweet tea, which I want to laugh at because he’s become a bit obsessed with the drink, but I can’t bring myself to find any humor in our situation right now.
He’s only here enjoying sweet tea at a twenty-four-hour diner because our lives are on the line. The thought eats away at me so much that I begin biting my thumbnail.
“Hey,” Caz calls from the other side of the table, grabbing my wrist. “Relax. We’re okay.”
“For how long?”
He stares briefly and, unable to answer that question, looks away. Pressing his back to the window next to our table, he lifts his leg, resting his boot on the bench.
“I hate snakes, by the way,” I mutter.
He smirks.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“Nothing, I’m just thinking about when I was younger and hung out with Rowan and Killian during the summers. We used to go near Shadow’s Peak, where there were nests of snakes—twice the size of that cobra in your shower, might I add.” He brings a hand up, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “I could use a bloom right now.”
I glance at my tote bag. I don’t have bloom, but I do have something else that may help. I dig into my bag to retrieve my wallet, taking out enough cash for the drinks. “Come with me.” I’m already leaving the table, the straps of my tote bag in hand. He drops his foot and follows me out of the diner. I round the building, and just behind it is a long strip of grass facing the freeway.
I sit on the slightly damp grass as Caz approaches, and I know he’s looking at me with mild confusion as I rustle through my tote. “What about our drinks?” he asks.
“We’ll get more later.” I tap the spot next to me. “Come on. Sit with me.”
He complies, claiming the spot next to me with a light grunt. I take out one of the four joints I had in my nightstand that are already rolled. I’d rolled them what feels like weeks ago, before going back to Vakeeli to reach Caz in his mom’s cabin.
I fish around for a lighter, and when I find it, I bring the joint to my lips and spark the end of it, taking a deep inhale. When I lower it and exhale, some of my stress drifts with the smoke—at least, that’s how I like to think of it. All that pent-up stress floats away with each puff. I offer the joint to Caz.
He takes it, but not without examining. “Is this the weed stuff you talked about?”
“Yep. Smoke it just like bloom.”
He brings it to his lips, inhales until the end turns to embers, and then exhales, releasing a large cloud of smoke. He coughs immediately after, and I burst out laughing, taking it from him when he hands it back.
“‘Your weed holds no comparison,’” I say in a voice that’s supposed to be like his.
“What?” He coughs again, his eyes watering. “Are you mocking me?”
“That’s what you said the first day we met. That my weed holds no comparison to your precious bloom,” I giggle.
He clears his eyes with a prideful smirk. “Well, I clearly take that back. Love of Vakeeli, what kind of concoction is that? Made to knock you flat on your ass, is it?”
I laugh again, and it’s the kind of laugh that hurts my stomach but feels good all the same. The kind of laugh I need right now. I take another pull and offer it to him again.
“Not too much,” I warn as he inhales. “I don’t want you getting high to the point of paranoia.”
As he smokes, I stare at the cars driving on the freeway, their headlights slashing through the darkness.
“What was the story about the nests of snakes?” I ask.
“Oh, right.” He hands the joint back to me, and I study his profile. The stress has melted away, his eyes soft, body lax beneath his coat. He presses his hands behind him, resting on his palms, and I put out the joint. This is a good place. “So, Rowan was the troublemaker, no surprise there, right? I was hanging out with Kill and Row, we were teenagers around the time.”