Chương 10: Chapter 9 - Respite

Even with all the adrenaline in the world, a person can't stay on high alert forever. By the time the candles had burned down by an inch, my senses had dulled. I found myself listening for only one thing—some tell-tale change in the noise that meant the danger had made it to the third floor. If I ever heard it, I knew I would instantly hoist the bedpost to my shoulder and take a fighting stance. Otherwise, the sounds from downstairs fell against my ears, barely noticed.

I'm not sure when the sounds of combat stopped. One moment I was lost in the flickering flame of the candle, the next, I blinked and realized the sounds were gone. I wanted to go downstairs to see what had happened, but Iset straight-up ordered me not to leave.

"They'll come to us," she said. She and Mrs. Park were sitting side by side on the floor, still tucked up against the wall. Iset's thin arms were wrapped around her bandaged knees. Mrs. Park's head was lowered so she could focus on the floor between her legs. I couldn't tell who was leaning on who. They both looked tired enough to need it. I remembered Igor's order.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"You're right." When I turned back to resume my watch, I noticed the candle had burned down by another inch. Kappa had sat at attention beside me the entire time, but as time crawled by, he started nodding off. His head drooped toward his chest, then he'd jerk it back up, shake it, scowl, and the whole process would start over again. Even in my keyed-up state, I could appreciate how adorable he was. He suddenly turned his head and stared down the hall toward the grand staircase.

With a squawk, he bounded into the darkness. I knew his squawks. That one was his happy squawk, so I wasn't too surprised when, a few seconds later, Conrad came into the candle light with Kappa bounding around his legs. The wolfman's pace dragged. It looked like he was only able to haul one foot in front of the other through numb resolve. His ears were limp, and his arms hung from his shoulders. I walked over to meet him. Iset and Mrs. Park got to their feet.

When I was only two feet away from him, Conrad put out a hand to take me by the arm. The weight of his grip pulled me closer. Maybe holding onto me was easier than raising his head to look at me.

"I'm all right," he said.

"I'm not hurt." He was trying to assure me, but the fact that he could only mumble it, with each word barely clearing his muzzle, made me worry more. I must have been radiating concern like a million-watt anxiety bulb. He tried to make his voice clearer.

"I'm just tired." I tucked myself under his arm so he could lean on me. This was as useless as it sounds. He would've had to stoop even further to lean on me, and if he had, I probably would've dropped to the floor under his weight. I'm not at my brightest at one in the morning. Conrad chuckled when he figured out what I was trying (and failing) to do. At least I could be useful as comic relief. Iset walked up to us.

"Igor?"

"He's downstairs," Conrad said.

"He offered to finish taking care of them."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't stop moving after you kill them." Conrad closed his eyes and sighed.

"'Kill' is not the right word, but I don't know how to put it. If you want them to stop moving, you have to dismember them." Mrs. Park, who was standing behind Iset, put a hand over her mouth.

"Has Igor destroyed all the bodies?" Iset asked.

"We both destroyed them. Igor's cleaning up."

"Did you destroy all of them?" Conrad opened his eyes and looked at her. Iset was leaning forward.

"I'm not sure," Conrad said.

"There might be one or two that are more intact than the others, but I don't know how much of them will be left."

"Is it safe to go downstairs?"

"Iset—""Conrad, is it safe to go downstairs?" Conrad paused. This was a new side of Iset. We already knew she was a wise and benevolent ruler, but, before that night, we'd never heard the voice she used to direct men into battle.

"It's safe," Conrad affirmed, "but it's ugly. Uglier than you can imagine. And it's only safe for now."

"What do you mean, 'for now'?" Mrs. Park asked. Conrad looked at the housekeeper.

"The attack seems to be over, and we stopped all of them, but we don't know where they came from, and I don't like that I couldn't smell them until they were close to the mansion."

"What are you saying, Conrad?" Iset asked.

"I'm not sure. But I don't like it. Don't go downstairs unless you have to, and if you have to, stay next to Igor while you're down there." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I will. Thank you. Will you stay up here with these three?" Conrad nodded. Iset started toward the front stairs.

"Do you need a candle?" I called.

"I don't like candles," Iset yelled back. Of course. The flame. Her bandages. I wasn't even sure she needed light to see. I mean, her eyes were covered! But the battery-powered lanterns had been on her desk in the library.

"Take my phone!" I cried. Iset stopped and turned. I walked over to her.

"You can use it as a flashlight." As I handed it to her, I lowered my voice and said with a strained smile, "You know, so you can see all the ugly."

"Thank you, Emerra." She went toward the stairs. I went back to Conrad, Mrs. Park, and Kappa.

"What now?" I asked.

"I need to rest," Conrad said.

"I think we all do," Mrs. Park added.

"Should we go downstairs?" In a rush, I added, "Just to the second floor." That's where all the bedrooms were. Conrad's brow pulled down to match his frown. The weak light exaggerated the shadows created by the ripples in his fur. Mrs. Park said haltingly, "There is a chaise up here. Or we could lay down on the couches in the long gallery."

"Where's the chaise?" Conrad asked. Mrs. Park and I pointed down the hall. It was in the second storage room, past the grand staircase. She called it a "Victorian chaise" much like she called Igor, Ingvar. To anyone who may have felt the need to languish dramatically, it was obviously a fainting couch.

"Is it in one of the smaller rooms?" Conrad asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Park said. Conrad nodded.

"Let's go." Mrs. Park and Conrad picked up the candles, and I picked up my bedpost. We headed to the storage room. Kappa, who was being extra considerate, decided to climb me rather than the exhausted wolfman. When we reached the room, Conrad looked it over, then came back out.

"It'll do. Mrs. Park, you can lie down—""Conrad, I meant for you to have the chaise." My wolf-boy smiled. When I saw it, a weight dropped from my chest. The sudden lightness made me feel like I could fly. Okay, maybe not fly. But I could at least jump. Being airborne was, once again, possible.

"Never," he said. Mrs. Park started to speak: "But—""You want me to take the couch while you sleep on the floor? Not happening."

"This is because I'm old, isn't it?" Igor was right; Conrad was a smart boy. He didn't answer.

"Do I have to remind you," Mrs. Park said, "that you spent an hour—possibly two—fighting off a horde of…of zombies?"

"Which means I'm too tired to argue about this." Conrad nodded toward the couch. Mrs. Park eyed him, then grumbled, "I suppose I should be grateful for the respect." She walked into the room.

"I'll be right outside if anything happens," Conrad assured her. He turned to me.

"Emerra?" I shook my head. I didn't have a clear idea what he was asking, but I was pretty sure the answer was no. Did I want to go in with Mrs. Park? Did I want to lie down? Was I sleepy? No, no, and—well, no… but the last one would've been a white lie. I was tired, but the fear and tension had me wound up like a spring. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to run around like a lunatic bellowing about the end of the world—only in a tired way. Conrad shut the door and lowered himself to the floor with a quiet groan.

When he was settled with his back against the wall, I leaned the bedpost on the wall next to him, passed him Kappa, and took the candle so I could put it up on the nearest sconce. When I turned back, Conrad motioned to my weapon of choice.

"Is that for defense?" I walked over and hefted the bedpost while gazing at it fondly.

"It sure is." I sat on the floor beside him and laid the post down within easy reach.

"What I really need is a metal bat with kanji running down it, but this will do." I leaned over until our arms were touching.

"Don't worry," I assured him.

"I'll protect you." Kappa let out a growly hum—possibly because he knew that, even if Conrad was chloroformed and hogtied, he'd still be a better guardian than me. Conrad put one arm around Kappa, who was sitting in his lap, and one around me, and pulled us to his chest. A faint rotten stench was clinging to his clothes and fur. He laid his muzzle over my bald head and whispered, "I feel better already." Kappa didn't seem to mind the smell. He nuzzled into Conrad's fur.

I didn't like the smell, but I wasn't going to tell Conrad that. The only times the wolfman had ever initiated a hug was when I had needed comfort, and while I wasn't exactly happy, I wasn't miserable either. That meant that, this time, it was Conrad Bauer—all-around manly wolfman and fluffiest of guardians—who needed the comfort. And I was one-hundred percent There For Him. But it also set off a whisper of nervousness that drifted through me.

I had unthinkingly (and probably selfishly) assumed that someone as strong as Conrad would never need comfort. Even after Conrad relaxed his grip, his arm stayed over my shoulders and Kappa stayed nuzzled to his chest. I scooted closer so I'd be more comfortable. When I stopped wiggling, Conrad leaned his head against mine. It was inevitable that Kappa would fall asleep there. He was up hours past his bedtime, it was a cool evening, Kappa was mesothermic, and Conrad put out body heat like a blast furnace.

The bog-monster was under in less than a minute. The house settled into an uneasy rest. The limited sphere of warm light shed by the candle half convinced me that the rest of the world had faded away. All that was left was a bit of hallway, the closed door of the storage room, and my two friends. I could hear Kappa's soft breathing. I could feel the weight of Conrad's arm and his fur on my scalp. Only the distant sounds coming from downstairs reminded me that there was a larger world out there in the darkness.

"Conrad," I whispered. He hummed to show he was listening.

"Are you okay?" At first, there was no reaction. A second passed. Another.

"I will be," he whispered. I frowned and leaned into him harder, like maybe I could imprint my empathy using my head and shoulder. Was there anything I could do? I knew that the most soothing thing to have around in an awful situation was a large and fluffy friend. I was pathetically unqualified. To comfort Conrad, I'd have to recruit Sweetums from the Muppets. As Conrad went on, his whisper became choked.

"It was awful, Mera. One of the worst things I've ever had to do. I don't want to close my eyes. I can feel my mind still working through it. When I was done fighting, I stood there—claws dripping, coated in filth—and my mind was still working. What's the next move? The next move. The next." His arm tightened around me.

"I couldn't understand I was done," he whispered.

"There wasn't any water to wash off with. I had to wipe it off with a towel—oh, god. I must smell like them." He tried to move, but I grabbed onto his shirts and the fur beneath them. He could back away, but it would cost him a fistful of chest fur.

"A little bit," I whispered.

"I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He relaxed.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," I said.

"We all went through it," Conrad said.

"Yeah, but you had to go through more of it. If I ever get strong enough, we can take turns." I thought Conrad might give me one of the deadpan comebacks he was so good at.

"Looking forward to it," or "anytime you're ready." Instead, he shifted his head so his muzzle was resting on top of my scalp again.

"You go through enough, Mera." My heart clenched around a sudden swell of emotions. There were so many of them, and all of them were high, loud, and demanding. And it was bright. So bright that it hurt. Was I happy? This couldn't be happy. Maybe happy-sad, but it was closer to feeling… touched—like when you see a perfect sunset. Only I'd been touched by a ten-ton hammer. I buried my face in Conrad's shirt to keep the tears at bay. I needed to say something casual or funny, but my throat was too tight.

What was that wolfman doing to me?

"Mera?" He sounded worried.

"Don't mind me," I squeaked.

"I'm just being stupid." He raised the hand that had been on my shoulder and laid it on the back of my head.

"Get some sleep," he said.

"What if more zombies come?"

"Then I'll wake you up so you can protect me." A silent giggle shook my chest.

"Okay." The candle had burned down by another inch before I drifted off. When I did, I dreamed about fighting a horde of zombies. Blood scattering from my claws. Feeling the bones break under my hands. Never stopping. Always moving. An unending tide of violence. It was one of the worst dreams I'd ever had.