Chương 27: Chapter 26 - Comfort

It isn't often that I actually throw myself awake. Usually, my eyes will fly open. If the nightmares are super-duper bad, I might gasp dramatically. If you're going to be all gaspy when you wake up from a nightmare, I figure you might as well be dramatic about it. There's usually no one around to see me, and it's better to get some of the drama out when I'm alone. That night, I threw myself into a sitting position. By the time my eyes were open, I was upright.

I could feel my heart drumming on my chest and thundering in my ears. And my ears—they felt like they were perked, as if I'd heard something only a moment before and they were waiting to hear more. Knowing me, I'd just missed hearing myself gasp. Or sob. Or cry out— dramatically, of course. I put a hand to my forehead. No surprise, it was covered in a cold sweat. When I moaned and closed my eyes again, two tears slipped out. I blinked and wiped them away. I hadn't realized that I'd been crying.

Without warning, grief and fear rose in my chest like the ocean pouring into a cave, crushing my lungs with all the extra pressure. I cried some more as I tried to figure out what I was crying about. My friends were all alive—at least, so far. There was… some… hope that we'd make it out of this mess, and I wasn't currently being attacked by zombies. What more could a girl want? I'm so tired of being afraid. That was it. Weariness was dragging on every bone in my body. I was exhausted by the weight of my nightmares.

That happened sometimes. I'd learned to cope with it. You did your best for as long as you could—all strong and independent—then you collapsed and had a spontaneous pity-party, complete with crying, moaning, moping, whining, and a clown-car full of complaints. When it was over, you got up, and you kept going. If I ever mastered the art of using my calendar app, I might schedule the pity parties. That way I could invite more people and make cake.

I scooted over to the edge of my queen-sized bed and stood up, gasping as my feet hit the cold floor. I walked over to my bathroom to splash some water on my face. When I was in front of my sink, I turned the handle, but no water came out. I stared at the faucet for a moment, then started laughing and slapping at the useless thing while more tears streamed down my face. The water was off. How had I forgotten? Because I was stupid. Because I was tired.

I went to close my eyes and lean against the wall for some moral support, but as my eyelids shut, memories of the zombies' rotting faces ambushed me. I remembered the souls-that-weren't-souls staring at me out from their eyes. When I leaned against my sink and looked in the mirror, ghosts of their images were there. I stared back at them, willing myself to see some meaning in the nightmares. Nada. There was no message. Only horror. I clenched my hands on the edge of my sink.

"Yeah. I know it's horrible. You don't have to drive it home with a freaking sledge hammer." I shut off the faucet, pushed away from my sink, and wandered back to my bedroom. Anger that I was being subjected to a bunch of useless nightmares joined the grief and fear, turning me into a full-sized cocktail of ugly emotions. And I didn't even have one of those neat little umbrellas on top. I stood over my bed, looking at the sheets I'd exposed when I threw back my blankets.

They were getting colder by the second, but I still stood there, shivering and ordering myself to get back into bed and go to sleep. What a joke. I was never much good at following my own orders. Yet more tears sprang to my eyes, blurring the sight of my bed. And I really, really didn't want to go back to sleep. I sniffed, turned toward the door, took two steps—and stopped. Where was I going? There was no point in heading to the TV room.

All I could do there was stare at a blank screen, imagining all the anime shows I was missing. Maybe I should! Rebellious-me thought. It's better than staying here. If Conrad finds you there, Sensible-me thought, you're going to look stupid. Conrad already knows I'm stupid. That could have been either of me. It was a generally known fact. None of the different versions of me questioned the idea that Conrad might find me.

I always tried to sneak past his bedroom on my way to the stairs, but at least half the time, a few minutes after I'd settled down in the TV room, he'd come in and ask me what I was watching. No matter the answer, he'd ask if he could join me, then sit down on his three-quarters of the couch and let me lean on his arm and rest my head on his shoulder. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to reproduce that sense of comfort. That's what you really want, Sensible-me thought. Comfort. The chorus of myselfs all chimed in with their agreement. I considered my options. Kappa would be down with Iset, and while I would find their company comforting, I didn't want to look any weaker in front of Iset. No matter how pathetic I actually was, I wanted her to feel like she could call on me if she needed my help.

There was always Igor, and I loved the man, but he was about as comforting as a grumpy porcupine. I didn't like the idea of waking up Conrad… but maybe he was— magically and against all likelihood—already awake. I left my room and went down the hall to check the great landing. No wolfman. I snuck downstairs and checked the sitting room and the TV room. Nothing. The whole mansion seemed to be suspended in that uneasy silence between zombie attacks. By then I knew it was hopeless, but I went into the kitchen anyway.

Not even Igor was there. My chest heaved, and I started trembling. I didn't cry, but I berated myself for wanting to. So Conrad was asleep. That was fine. No, that was good. He needed rest. He'd done his job, and it did not include being a stand-in teddy bear for the world's neediest zombie— Nope, my brain said, not a zombie. Definitely, not a zombie. Great. Now I didn't even have a jokey nickname for myself. Robbed of even that, I gave up and decided to mope in bed. I climbed the back stairs.

As I was walking down the hall toward my room, I noticed that the door to Conrad's bedroom was open by an inch. It was possible that I'd missed it when I left my room—it would've been hard to notice the gap since I was going the other way—but what if he'd woken up and gone downstairs? I recognized that desperate hope for the cockroach it was and tried to squash it. No luck. I sidled up to Conrad's door and put my ear close to the gap. There was no convenient snoring to tell me if he was there or not.

When I felt the impulse to go inside, I acted before Sensible-me could point out how appallingly inconsiderate that was. It's not inconsiderate! I'm checking to see if he's there, and I don't want to knock because that'd wake him up. It turned out, Conrad was there. The curtains at his window were wide open, and there hadn't been enough boards to block off the windows on the second floor. The weak moonlight and starlight allowed me to make out his form on the bed. He raised his head.

"Mera?" Don't want to wake him up, huh? A-plus job, Emerra. I backed toward the door. I was so ashamed, my heart was all the way up in my throat. I had to choke out my excuses. As I stammered, Conrad sat up, moving in that groggy way that showed he'd been enjoying some badly needed, deep sleep.

"Y-your door. It was open. I didn't know." Conrad put his legs over the edge of the bed and wordlessly waved his hand toward him, motioning for me to come over. I obeyed.

"I didn't know if you were here or not. I'm sorry." He was wearing his pajama bottoms, but not a T-shirt or tank top. Maybe he didn't sleep in them when he was at home. All he said was "You had a nightmare." My throat constricted. All the emotions I'd been ignoring during the search reared up, clamoring to be felt, overwhelming me. They were in me, outside of me, drowning me. I couldn't breathe, but I managed to nod. He let out an exasperated sigh that stabbed right through my aching stomach.

Then he reached out, and his huge hand closed over mine.

"Mera, I'm six-foot-nine." Now I felt sad, afraid, guilty, and confused. I had no idea what his height had to do with me barging into his room in the middle of the night. He went on, "I can't get comfortable on a six-foot couch. I've had a long day and had to do a lot of healing. I have to rest." I nodded furiously.

"Yeah. No. I totally get it. I'm really sorry I woke you up."

"You don't mind?"

"No." His muzzle dropped in a tired nod. He tugged on my hand. I took a step closer, wondering what he was doing. He pulled on my hand again.

"Come on." It was only after he pushed his covers aside and pulled me into the bed that I caught on. Because I'm quick like that.

"You'll let me stay?" I asked as he threw the blankets over us. My voice was small and squeaky from the barely restrained hope.

"I know what you're here for," he grumbled.

"You just want my stupid fur. I don't have to be conscious for you to get your fix."

"And…you're okay with this?" He chuffed.

"Why would I care? You're the one laying in a bed covered with fur and wolf scent." I should've known. Conrad had told me before that lycanthropes engaged in way more casual touch than humans did—a fact which no doubt led to his relaxed and comfortable indifference. Honestly, I should've been born a wolfman. It would've saved the state a minor fortune on therapy. Conrad was lying on his side, facing toward me. I rolled to put my back to him.

Like mine, his bed was a queen, so there was plenty of room for both of us. As we settled in, the mess of miserable emotions drained away, and the pressure in my chest eased. I wasn't alone, and while Conrad might not be able to protect me from my nightmares, he could, absolutely, protect me from the zombies that were causing them. My restless exhaustion whimpered down into a lazy drowsiness. All my awful memories faded, and my senses dimmed as if they were being lulled into hibernation. My heart slowed.

I smiled and turned my head into the bed so the zero people who were watching me wouldn't see it. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to feel happy—but everything felt warm and safe.

"I won't keep you awake?" I prodded, looking for further assurance that I wasn't being the bother I was ninety-nine percent sure I was being.

"I slept with Basil most of my life," Conrad said.

"He kicked."

"Basil? Your brother?"

"I'm used to sleeping in a dogpile." I grinned.

"Don't you mean a wolf-pile?"

"If you're going to be a twit, maybe you should find some other fur dealer." I knew he was teasing me, but the threat was enough to make the last of my sadness and fear swell until they stretched my ribs.

"I'll be good," I promised. I tried to keep my voice light, but I'm sure he smelled my pain. He put his arm over my waist and pulled me closer.

"It's okay, Mera. I've got you." And for one dizzy and surreal second, I thought it was a human arm around me. I was utterly exhausted and still had an anxiety hang-over from my dream. I also had my back to him, so I couldn't see him when he used his very human voice to reassure me. It was an understandable mistake! But it was still eerie. Then the bewildering moment passed, and I saw that it was Conrad's arm, surrounding me with his gray and white fluff. I relaxed. Man, that wolf smell really was heavy.

I'd never been able to figure out if it was a good smell or a bad smell, and over time, it had simply become his smell. I didn't mind it. It meant comfort. I snuggled into his fur. But when I closed my eyes to sleep, I saw and felt the echo of a man's arm going around my waist, and my heart fluttered. Geez. If I was being that stupid, I probably needed a boyfriend.