Miracle - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

The old man in white came up to us, and I stumbled back a step. He raised his sunglasses onto the top of his head and scanned me with bright blue eyes.
Never mind that visually he wasn't that attractive. Barely average looking, in fact. Nonetheless, my dick throbbed and I was maybe ten seconds away from launching myself at the guy and humping his leg for some relief. He reached out and touched my face, tilting it up toward him. He was nowhere near as tall as Ezra, probably not even six feet, but he was still taller than me.
The sudden erotic fantasies that were playing out in my head as he examined me were more shocking than any porn clip I'd ever watched. My face had to be day-glo pink, because every part of me was on fire. If he'd asked I would have dropped my pants for him on the spot and done whatever he asked, no matter who was watching.
"My, my, Ezrael," he said in a voice and tone that were unapologetically feminine—and held a foreign accent I couldn't place. "You didn't tell me your little Eljo was so potent. I could smell him a mile away. And now just look what he's making me do."
Crap. A surge of lust rolled up into my lungs and came out as a whimper.
Ezra laid a hand on the man's forearm and pressed it down, effectively forcing him to let me go. He stepped in between us, but at the same time gave the man a formal half-bow, as if he was guarding me and being carefully respectful at the same time.
"Swan," he said evenly, "I am grateful for your assistance. But I must remind you of your promise."
"Oh, psh," the Swan answered, though he did back off some. He turned his twinkling eyes on Ezra instead, and ran an admiring hand over the broad muscle of Ezra's chest. He paused right where his nipple would be underneath the black hoodie, and flicked a fingertip.
My entire being flooded with jealousy. I wish I could have said it was on Ezra's behalf, but it wasn't.
"As I recall, I gave my word not to coerce the mite into things he doesn't want. But it seems that won't be a problem, don't you think?"
No problem at all.
Ezra stood his ground. "His ripening has barely started. He doesn't know what he wants."
The hell I don't. The pressure in my pants was decisive.
The Swan chuckled. "Well, but isn't that what ripening is all about? I think you're selling him short, my friend. Truly, though, he's a beauty, even all banged up. Now I understand why you keep turning me down." He looked Ezra over and clucked his tongue. "Meanwhile, you're running on empty, I see. It's a good thing you contacted me, he'll do fine at my place. No one will even know he's there." He extended a palm to Ezra and curled his fingers expectantly. Ezra reached inside his hoodie, and handed over a bottle of the pheromone blocker.
The Swan's face lit as he held it up to the sun. "Ooh, it's pretty. Let's give it a test." He spritzed it onto his wrists like an expensive perfume, then raised one to his nose and made a face. "Heavens, would it have killed you to add a little lavender or vanilla or something?"
"You have to put more on," I said from behind Ezra's elbow, trying not to pant between the words. "It doesn't work if you only wear it like that."
He gave me such a brilliant smile, I felt my stomach turning to water. "Is that so, sweetness? Then here, why don't you show me."
He held the bottle out. I took it, aimed at his neck and curly-haired chest, and aggressively applied three pumps of the formula. "Hold out your arms," I instructed, which appeared to amuse him. He complied, and I sprayed his underarms. Then my gaze dropped to the front of his pants. Renewed heat filled my face as I could plainly see that under the tailored linen, this guy was as aroused as I was.
Ezra shifted next to me like he was about to intervene, but I could do this. The sooner the better. I directed the spray onto the Swan's white-clad crotch and gave it a thorough misting. Then I held the bottle out to him. "There."
"Oh, well done," he said, accepting the bottle by clasping his hands around mine. They were remarkably soft. "What a darling. You and I will get along just marvelously, I think. Tell me, does this concoction work?"
I nodded. "It'll take a few minutes, but it does a good job."
"Wonderful. Where has this been my whole life? It's my luck that you've been such a muse for your benefactor, here. He's spent nearly every waking minute in that laboratory of his since the day you were born, did you know that?"
I blinked up at Ezra, who kept an utterly stoic face. "Really?"
"Mm, and now we have this potion to make our lives easier. I don't know about you, but I get rather tired of human men eyeing me like a steak all the time."
I knew exactly what he meant. And realized I'd been doing it to him myself up until a few minutes ago. How embarrassing.
"Now, Nephilim on the other hand," he stroked Ezra's chest again, "I've never minded their attention. Magnificent creatures, they are. So much willpower. So satisfying to play with."
The formula must have already started working, because this time my twinge of possessiveness was most definitely focused on Ezra. I took Ezra's arm, tugging him away from those wandering fingers. The Swan's white eyebrows went up, but he chuckled and dropped his hand.
"I'm still hoping to do business with you one day, Ezrael. Your father is one of my favorite patrons, you know."
The muscle of Ezra's forearm tensed under my fingers, but his expression didn't change. "Is there news?"
"The rumor mill is having a field day, what do you expect? Nephilim are the worst gossips. The council's keen to talk to you. They've issued quite the attractive capture order. I could make a few thousand dollars with a phone call right now, so aren't you glad I haven't the need for money?"
Ezra inclined his head. "Your discretion is appreciated."
"Honey, I don't do anything for appreciation," the Swan said, flourishing the bottle of formula. "You've made it worth my while."
Ezra glanced down at me. "Keep him safe, and I'll ensure you never run out."
"Assuming they don't catch you," he replied cheerfully. Now that I wasn't swimming in lust, this guy's flippancy was pissing me off. The danger Ezra was in was no laughing matter. As I was glaring, though, he turned those sharp blue eyes on me. "Well, Connor, shall we be off? I'm sure your gallant hero has places to be. Or not be, in this instance."
My grip tightened around Ezra's arm.
"Connor," Ezra said, and I tilted my head back to look at him. He set the leather jacket he'd given me around my shoulders, then handed me my backpack and leaned close to my ear. "Pray," he murmured, so that goosebumps prickled the side of my neck. "Every day. Tell me how you're doing, but don't send any thoughts that could reveal where you are." He took hold of my wrist and unfastened the watch.
"You're taking it back?" I asked unhappily. While he could hear me thinking to him, that watch was the only way I could receive a response.
He tucked it into his hoodie pocket. "It could lead them to you, if..."
If you get caught? I finished for him. And just like that my chin started quivering, against my will. No, damn it, I was too old to be doing this!
But what if this was the last time I ever saw him?
I threw my arms around his waist, squeezing with all my might, and stuck my battered, bandaged face into his stomach. I couldn't stop the tears from coming, but at least I could keep him from seeing them.
His arms came up around me. He stroked my hair and my shoulder, and let me hold him like that for maybe a minute before pushing me back. "I have to go."
I took a step back, wiping my running nose. Ezra turned away, carrying both helmets back to his bike. I felt hands land on my shoulders, thin and light. The Swan had come up behind me, and in spite of the blocker he had on, when he was this close I could feel my heart speeding up. I didn't like it. I didn't want to be turned on by this guy.
But he was watching Ezra over my shoulder, and then he met my eyes with a bemused smile. "Well, how about that." He looked back at Ezra again. "Fascinating."
I didn't know what he meant and I didn't care. Ezra had straddled his bike, his face hidden behind the black visor of his helmet. He kicked the engine into its muffled purr and rolled backward. Then he lifted a hand in our direction.
I couldn't get my muscles to move in order to wave back. I just stood there numbly as he wheeled the bike around in the parking lot and rode off.
🧬🧬🧬
From the moment I clicked my seatbelt in the Swan's flamboyant Thunderbird, I was in a completely different world.
My new guardian didn't talk much. He put on some weird music, medieval monks chanting, and I zoned out staring through the window. After a while I allowed myself to get caught up in anxieties about Ezra. Where he was, how he was doing... how it was my fault we couldn't be together, my fault he couldn't go home.
The Swan reached over and snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Hey, kid, cut that out. You're filling my whole car with your worrywart sex vibes. You want to end up screwing each other on the side of the road before we're even halfway home?"
I definitely did not.
I zipped my leather jacket all the way up after that, and practiced blue circle breathing until I'd lulled my pulse and breath into a slow, even rhythm. As I was drifting off to sleep against the window, it occurred to me that was probably the reason for the hypnotic music selection. Maybe this guy didn't want to be attracted to me, either. Good, at least we had that in common.
I must have been pretty worn out, because it was hours before I woke up. By that time the sun was setting, and we were pulling up through thick trees to a set of ironwork gates. They'd been wrought with two swirling, stylized swans that arched their necks in a heart shape to touch beaks, and they swung apart to admit the Thunderbird as we approached.
"Welcome to Enoch's Peak," the Swan said as he drove us through the gates.
As in, Ezra's hometown? I straightened up, suppressing a groan as my injuries rebelled. I didn't see any signs of civilization. We were in the mountains, all right. There was a forest on either side of us, trees with thick rough bark, needle leaves, and pine cones. But the drive was paved with smooth black tar, and a neat white picket fence held the forest back on either side of it. The air was thin, and drier than I was used to.
We rounded a bend and there was a house in front of us: sprawling, multi level, with cool gray stonework and white stucco. Its elegant architecture carefully danced the line between showiness and good taste, and everything about it screamed money. If it weren't for the two large garage doors, both inset with sparkling etched-crystal windows, I might have mistaken this place for a hotel.
"I don't understand," I said as one of the garage doors rolled up. "The satellite images only show trees and rocks out here. This place is enormous, why wouldn't it be visible?"
The Swan chuckled and pulled us into the garage, which was sleek and clean. There was another vehicle parked in here, but it was covered so I couldn't tell what it was. "Who do you think invented satellite technology? The Nephilim are decades, sometimes centuries ahead of humans in science and engineering. They decide when the next big thing will be shared with mankind. They never would have released satellite tech if they hadn't had a way to keep their settlements hidden from it first."
I released my seatbelt and got out of the car. "Did they invent cell phones too?"
"Of course. Computers, microwaves, photography, you name it."
"Cars?"
"Technically, though you'd never get them to admit it. They may have showed a few humans the possible uses for crude oil, but only humans would mass-produce as destructive and dirty a machine as the gasoline combustion engine. Nephilim have used exclusively electric vehicles for well over a century, and they're pushing to convert human consumers too. But I'll always have an appreciation for the classics."
I followed him to a door at the back of the garage, and we went inside.
"Let's talk ground rules," the Swan declared as he led me into a massive sitting room, nearly the size of our entire home back in Prickly Pear. There was a vaulted ceiling, hardwood floors covered in plush throw rugs, and white sectional couches. Dainty glass cabinets everywhere, filled with sparkly crystal figurines. A white-lacquered grand piano. And a large, long-haired white cat lounging indolently on one end of the sectional.
"Unless otherwise agreed, you will stay on your side of the house," he pointed to a staircase left of the sliding glass doors that looked out onto a porch, "and I will stay on mine." He pointed to the matching staircase on the right. "I presume you understand the effect we have on each other?"
I nodded.
"I have promised Ezrael to keep you hidden, and to abstain from involving you in my work. Both of which will be impossible without your cooperation. Have a seat." He pointed at part of the sectional sofa, specifically the part that was near the left hand staircase he'd indicated previously. When I obeyed, he sat facing me from the opposite side of the room, and pulled the white cat into his lap. He mumbled to it affectionately in some language I didn't understand, and scritched under its chin. Without looking up, he addressed me again.
"Tell me, how much do you know about what we are?"
We. He'd said we, as in, a shared condition. And it wasn't like the way Maddy and I shared it, because for her there was a purpose. My situation was different, but I wasn't alone. I pinched my lips together before answering, to hide a shy smile.
"Uh... Just that we were born with immunity to Nephilim genetics." I wasn't sure if that was the right way to phrase it, but since the Swan nodded I couldn't have been far off. "Because of that, our pheromones are attractive to human men."
"Oh, it's not just humans. We affect Nephilim as well."
"We do?" Ezra hadn't told me that.
"Of course. They're half human, after all. Our power over them is less, but trust me, they feel it. They just happen to have excellent self-control... most of the time."
I found it weird that he referred to our pheromone problem as a power.
"But, that means there are only two places in Enoch's Peak where your presence cannot be detected. One is the Elioud school, because it's a pheromone jungle in there. And the other is here with me. My pheromone signature will blend with yours, and my visitors expect to feel it. No one will be the wiser, so long as you stay out of sight."
"Could you get in trouble if someone finds me here?"
He smirked. "I'd be executed. Harboring an unlicensed Eljo is a crime on several levels."
My eyes went wide. He was risking his life for a bottle of pheromone blocker? That didn't seem like enough of an incentive. But he continued on like it wasn't a big deal.
"Male Eljo are catalysts for one another. I'm not inclined to use up this precious stuff," he held up his formula spray bottle like the Holy Grail, "just to keep you off me. If it comes to that, you should know I won't hesitate to fuck you." He trained those intense blue eyes on me in seriousness, making me gulp. I was already experiencing a level of unwanted arousal just being across the room from him. "But let's try to avoid that if we can, hm?"
Yes, please.
"We will each shower twice a day. We will sleep with our bedroom doors locked. In your room, channel zero on the television will display my calendar. During all my on-site appointments, you will remain in your room with the door locked. Due to the nature of my work, the lock on your room requires dual confirmation to release. Here."
He handed me something that looked like a car key fob. It fit in the palm of my hand, and had two buttons and an indicator light. Then he held up one of his own. "Either of us can lock your door using these. You may request to be let out by pressing the unlock button. If it is safe I will press mine, and the door will open. Otherwise, I will press the lock button and your request will be denied. As a safety precaution, if I do not respond the door will unlock after one hour."
"What if you try to get in?"
"The same protocol applies. You will have to confirm or deny my request, and if you do not, the door will unlock after an hour."
There were likely plenty of other safety issues with that, but in light of our mutual weaknesses I was willing to accept them. I turned the key fob over in my hand. Unlike Ezra, he hadn't mentioned a prohibition on masturbation. Which begged another question. "Just what kind of work do you do, Mr. Swan?"
He leaned back against the sofa, grinning with those blindingly white teeth. "I think you can guess."
Well, I could, but it might offend him. As I was struggling with how to phrase it, he chuckled. "Just say it, kid. I've heard it all."
"You're a, um... an entertainer?"
He burst out laughing, which made me stiffen in more than one way. I pulled my backpack into my lap to hide it.
"Well, I think of myself more as a therapist. But to be frank, I exchange sex for money. Which you need to know, because when I am with my patrons things may get quite hard for you—pun very much intended. And if you decide to interrupt us, not only will you be revealing yourself to the Nephilim and getting me charged with conspiracy and treason, you will also be joining us for the remainder of the session, whether Ezrael likes it or not."
I shuddered.
"So my advice, little Eljo, is to stay in your room. Take care of your needs however you wish, but stay put. Understood?"
Yup. In fact, I was starting to understand the frustration of the men who'd been affected by me back in Prickly Pear. It was maddening to be sexually excited by a person you didn't particularly like. The Swan wasn't exactly repulsive, and I was gay, and I even knew the reason it was happening—but I still had zero heartfelt desire for him and my body was being insubordinate. I could only imagine how those homophobic straight men must have felt in my presence.
"Good. Then I think it's time you head upstairs. Get settled in. I suggest a shower." He gave me a pointed look, and I flushed.
"Yes, sir."
"You'll find supplies to dress your injuries in your bathroom. Once you're done, come downstairs and we'll try having a meal together."
It wasn't hard to find the room. The first door at the top of the stairs was open, with a wooden placard hanging next to it that said "Guest" in curly script. The room held a queen-sized bed that looked so tall I might need a stool to get into it, piled with a fluffy comforter. The walls were a soft cream color, and so was the carpet. There were huge bay windows that curved outward, a little like a castle turret in a storybook, with a half-moon window seat beneath them. A dresser across from the bed held a drawer of jeans, another of t-shirts, and another with underwear and socks, all the same sizes as the clothes Ezra had given me this morning.
How long had Ezra been planning this, that there was even a wardrobe ready for me here?
In the attached bathroom, there was a walk-in shower with glass doors and a tiled bench at the back. The cabinet under the sink held gauze, medical tape, antibiotic ointment, painkillers, allergy medicine, a humidifier, a bunch of little tools like tweezers and scissors and nail clippers, and... oh.
Condoms.
And lubricant.
And a butt plug, which I recognized not because I'd ever owned one, but because as a red-blooded gay kid, I knew how to find my way around the internet.
The Swan thought I was going to need these things while I was here? Or were they in case of, like... some kind of emergency?
Maybe this was why Ezra had said he didn't trust him.
I pushed the stuff to the very back of the drawer, fumbled in my jacket pocket, and pushed the lock button on the key fob. I heard a click and a beep from out in the room.
Shower. I had better shower right away.
🧬🧬🧬
I didn't push the unlock button for my room until I was completely cleaned up: hair washed, burns re-bandaged, dressed in fresh clothes with my jacket zipped up tight.
I hadn't bothered re-bandaging my face. There was a gash across my forehead about three inches long, with five black stitches holding it closed. I spent a few minutes touching them lightly and thinking about Ezra. Though he'd taken the watch back, I still had the clothes he'd given me—the jacket, the hairbrush, even a toothbrush. But the stitches were a more personal reminder of him. I didn't want to cover them back up. And anyway, other than the bruising and a few smaller cuts here and there, the rest of my face was fine.
The burns on my hand were puckering, but most of the blistering had subsided. The only one that still really hurt was along my palm, because that one had burst when Tyler pushed me. My bruised stomach was aching too, so I'd taken a few painkillers.
Considering the condoms in the bathroom, I was very tempted to put on the blocker formula before going downstairs. The Swan was right, though. I knew firsthand how bad it was to run out of the stuff. He had one bottle, and I had one. I didn't know if he knew about mine, but seeing as he was risking death for the one he had, it was probably best to keep mine a secret. We needed to learn how to be around each other without it.
So, once I was certain I'd made myself as unseductive as possible, I pressed the unlock button on my door remote. A couple seconds later, the door beeped.
As I stepped into the hall, the Swan called to me from across the open space above the living room. "You can go on down, sweetness, the kitchen's in the back. I'll be there momentarily."
My first glimpse of the kitchen held me frozen in awe. It was the biggest, most luxurious one I'd ever seen. White marble countertops, gleaming stainless appliances, a center island as big as the guest bed upstairs with a gas stovetop and deep basin sinks. The refrigerator could have held two or three big deer. I ventured in slowly at first, admiring the elements that were on open display—gorgeous stainless pots and pans hanging from an overhead rack, a magnetized strip on the wall that held shining knives. Then I got bolder and started opening the cabinets.
Pasta, rice, quinoa, couscous. Granolas and dried fruits and nuts. Jars of preserves and sauces. Every imaginable baking staple. The refrigerator was loaded with vegetables, eggs, blocks of exotic cheeses, and had its own smaller wine compartment. The freezer had so many neatly packaged cuts of meat and fish my eyes were about ready to pop out of my head.
Not a single pack of ramen or box of macaroni. No potato chips or pre-packaged cookies or junk food of any sort.
"Hungry?" the Swan asked from behind me, and I closed the freezer guiltily as my heart skipped in response to his presence.
"Oh. I, um... sorry. It's just, you have such a great kitchen."
"Yes, well, I enjoy cooking."
"Me too," I said.
His face brightened. "Really? In that case, would you like to assist me? I was thinking something simple for tonight, perhaps salmon and some greens."
"That sounds great. Where do we start?"
Those simple dinner plans evolved into a slow-roasted fish dish with fennel, citrus and chiles, and a sautéed fennel-quinoa salad sprinkled with pomegranate seeds. Then, because we were having so much fun, I threw together an apple pastry bake, sweetened with fancy maple syrup I found in his pantry.
And while we worked—with the meditative crooning of Enya in the background to keep us zen—I learned some interesting things about my host. He was from a small, formerly Soviet nation called Belarus. When he was born it was part of the U.S.S.R., but it had become independent nearly three decades ago. Back when he'd lived there, though, there wasn't tolerance for homosexuality.
Oh, and apparently that was one of the side effects of being a male Eljo. The Swan said he'd never heard of a person like us who wasn't gay, which I found fascinating. There was probably a ton of great biology going on behind that, but the Swan didn't seem particularly interested in science so I had him go on with his story.
When he was around the same age as me, he started ripening and things went to hell. He barely managed to escape from his home country with his life, and some really bad things happened to him in the process. Things that made what I'd been through with Tyler seem like party games, though I got the feeling he was glossing over a lot of details so as not to scare me.
But he survived, and made it to Sweden where he lived on the streets for a while. In what was maybe the most ballsy life choice I'd ever heard of, he decided to embrace his Eljo sex appeal as a means of survival.
"You'd probably call it prostitution," the Swan said as he whisked oil and herbs together in a ceramic bowl. "But it never felt like that to me. Some people can paint, or sing, or bake, and they use those talents to support themselves while bringing pleasure to others. I'm just doing the same with my particular gift. I have something other people want, often that they need. If they want to pay me for it, if I enjoy serving them with my talents, why shouldn't we do business?"
I guess when he put it that way... but I wasn't sure I'd have been able to do it.
Eventually his line of work led him to a young, well-to-do doctoral student who became his, well, sugar daddy. The guy gave him a place to stay, clothes and food and pocket money. Even sent him to school. Treated him like a favored pet, with privileges and house rules and treats when he'd performed well.
As it turned out, this benefactor was actually neither young, nor human. He was Nephilim, and he'd recognized the teenaged Swan for what he was the second they met. After a while he petitioned the local Nephilim council for a license to bring his Eljo companion into their community.
"And the rest, as they say, is history." The Swan set his plate down on the table in the adjoining breakfast nook, and sat down opposite me. He licked some sauce from his thumb. "He explained to me what I was, why men react to me like they do. He was my first sponsor. We'd met shortly after his first Bride had passed away, so when he married the second time, he gave me away to a friend here in Enoch's Peak. I did the exclusive thing with his friend for a while, but those arrangements just don't work out well for me. I get too attached. And it can quickly turn into chaos when some Elioud sets her sights on your man."
He sighed, and there was real sadness in it. He shook it off quickly, though. "Fortunately, instead of kicking me back out to the humans, my second sponsor granted me autonomy to set up shop on my own."
"Do you still see him?" I asked.
"From time to time, yes. Legally, I still belong to him. In the eyes of the Nephilim, he's responsible for me."
"Is that what Ezra was trying to do? For me, I mean."
"Bless him, he's been filing petitions on your behalf for a decade. But the council here is much more conservative than in Stockholm."
That long? I must have looked shocked, because the Swan chuckled. "Didn't know he was that serious about it, hm? I must say, the boy is persistent. The council's told him no a dozen different ways, but he keeps trying."
"Why?"
"You'd have to ask him that."
"No, I mean, why won't the council approve it? They let you in."
"Ah, well, in my case they had no choice. Since I was already licensed by the Swedish council, my sponsor here just took over my keeping and that was that. But in general, male Eljo have a reputation for being troublemakers. There's only one thing we're good for," he wiggled a white eyebrow, "and occasionally we're so good at it we might lead a Nephilim astray from his holy mission. Survival of the species is paramount. For the most part nobody cares if an unattached Nephilim wants to go around fucking whatever he likes in his spare time. But Heaven forbid he put off his duties of marriage and procreation to waste himself on an infertile pet."
"But that's not what Ezra wants with me," I protested. "He needs me for his research."
"Is that what he told you?" The Swan grinned. "Even if that's the case, he'd have a hard time finding support for it. Most folks around here don't approve of the projects he chooses to work on. And now, I'm afraid, things are looking a bit dire. The council's been trying to ignore Ezrael's oddities over the past few years, but with this latest turn of events he's got them backed into a corner."
My stomach knotted. Here I was in the Swan's mansion, with a plate of gourmet food in front of me and a soft bed waiting upstairs. Meanwhile Ezra was trapped in the human world, on the run from his own people. He was sick but couldn't come home, couldn't even talk to anybody. And it was my fault.
"Ah, ah, enough of those gloomy thoughts," the Swan said, swirling his fork at me. "If anyone can find a way out of this mess it's him. He may be something of an eccentric, but he's clever. Just give him time." He put a bite of salmon in his mouth and closed his eyes. "Mm, you were right about the chiles, my little friend, they're," he kissed the tips of his fingers, "perfection."
He was able to effectively distract me with an analysis of textures and flavors, tossing around ideas to improve the recipe in future iterations. Until we both, at the same moment, realized we were getting too enthused. Our knees were brushing under the table.
"Well, damn," the Swan said, pouting and pushing his chair back. "And here we were having such fun."
My lower body was pulsing, and I battled the impulse to reach out and touch him. Ugh, I didn't know how I was going to get used to this. "I can clean up," I offered, "if you want to go rest."
"I think it should be the other way around," he said. "You're a guest. Besides, your bedroom has the better lock."
My room was too quiet after the bustle and conversation of dinner. I showered again, both to kill time and reduce inconvenience for me and my host. I had to pull out the bottom drawer of the nightstand and use it as a step to get into the bed. As I was climbing up, grunting with the strain on my injuries, it occurred to me that the sink in the bathroom was also abnormally tall, almost to my sternum, and the shower head was placed super high up.
I was willing to bet this room had been designed for Nephilim visitors. No wonder I felt like one of Snow White's dwarves in here.
Had it really been just this morning that I'd woken up in a motel room with Ezra? All of this felt surreal, a strange and uncomfortable world I wasn't sure I wanted to be part of. The Swan was thriving in this place, but the way he did it... I wasn't capable of that.
I pulled the fluffy comforter up under my chin and sighed. Ezra, can you hear me? I was sure he could, even though he had no way to reply. I'm all right. Things are okay here. He'd warned me not to send him thoughts of where I was, so it was hard to figure out what was safe to tell him. You don't have to worry, your friend and I are getting along. Are you okay? I hope you're getting some rest.
I tucked my arms behind my head and closed my eyes. I'm worried about Maddy. She's probably going crazy that she hasn't been able to reach me. God knows what Mom has told her. I wish I had a way to let her know I'm all right, but that would get everyone in trouble, wouldn't it?
Gradually the comforter was starting to feel like a weight pressing down on my chest. Had Ezra found another motel? Was he sleeping on a park bench somewhere? Had he eaten anything today besides fast food and Jolly Ranchers? Was he still dangerously depleted?
Have you really been trying for ten years to get permission for me to stay with you? Dude, if they've been denying your petitions for that long there's no way they were ever going to say yes. You should have told me. We could have come up with another plan. I'd have helped with your research anyway, you know. You didn't have to do this.
A tear escaped to roll down toward my ear, and I rolled over onto my side. It was a good thing the door was locked, because I was too tired to try and hold the guilt back. You're in so much trouble. What are we going to do?