A Book of Dust and Breath

Chapter Thirteen

Max introduced his bride to Lena's Italian Restaurant for dinner - "Michigan's little piece of Italy," according to him.

She'd been to Italy. The food bore no resemblance to the thick-crusted, cheese-covered pie, but she had no complaints. It was the second-best pizza she'd ever eaten. She made a mental note to plan a road trip to take him to the little place in Indiana that had won first place on her list.

Newlyweds, consumed by hunger far deeper than mere food could satisfy, they soon found themselves back at home and in the massive bed once more. By the time the sun set she was as exhausted as she'd ever been from a hard workout. Wrapped in his warm, strong arms, with one leg caught between his and her left hand on his chest she drifted into a deep sleep where strange shadows flitted around the edge of her dreams watching her with yellow eyes but never approaching.

At seventeen minutes past midnight she woke up, half-starved and very aware of the three slices of pizza wrapped in foil they'd left in the fridge earlier. No chance of getting fat. She'd burned more calories in the past twenty-four hours than she normally did in a week. Certainly, the delectable tenderness in every part of her body attested to that truth.

Hot blood rushed to her cheeks. Were all new couples so desperate to consume one another?

Silvery moonlight lent a magical silver illumination just bright enough for her to scrounge a pair of panties and a t-shirt from her open suitcase that lay, still half packed, in the corner of the room.

Moving carefully through the dark toward the top of the stairs, she willfully ignored the hissing of the radiators. "There's no one here but us. There is no such thing as ghosts," she whispered while descending the shadowy staircase, following the warm glow of a downstairs lamp they must have left on.

A black figure stood outlined in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Jesus!" She exclaimed, planting her right foot in front of her and raising her arms into a defensive position.

"Hardly," came the reply in a thick British accent. "Just His lowly servant, though I have to say, I'm a might better looking than him. He chose a humble form." A man about Max's age with thick brown hair and a wide, crooked grin stepped into the light. "I also have to say. If the Son of God saw you in your current state of dress I'm pretty sure his thoughts would be a sight more pure than mine right now."

Lily stood, frozen, unsure if she should attack, scream, or laugh.

"Blimey. I heard it, but I didn't believe it." He stood with his hands on his hips, regarding her as though he were expecting a response.

Lacking anything else, she asked him, "Who are you?"

Still grinning he held out a hand, which she shook out of reflex. "I'm Daniel."

"Why are you in our house?"

"Our house is it?" He chuckled. "Well, I wander, you know? I've spent a fair many nights in the guest room. I see you got invited to the big bed. Can't say it doesn't make sense. Your legs are far prettier than mine."

"Uhm, I'm going to get Max."

The stranger waved a hand. "Don't bother. He's grouchy when he wakes up. I just heated the pizza. Split it?"

Lily weighed her options. Clearly, the man wasn't a South American drug lord come to exact some kind of mafia justice. Not a government operative, unless he was from someone else's government. Could be a vampire. He hadn't shown up until after dark.

"You going to stand there trying to work me out, or you going eat pizza with me?"

If she went upstairs to get pants there was a chance she'd wake Max. The idea of talking alone to someone who knew him was very appealing. Lifting her chin, she motioned for him to go first. She could manage to sit at the table in her underpants with some measure of dignity, but she wasn't about to have him walking behind her, looking at the good deal of her there was to be seen.