I woke up back in the same bedroom I'd occupied yesterday, and yup, I was back in the Morticia Addams negligee. Walker and I needed to have a serious conversation about boundaries. But first...
I slide out of the bed, happy to find that my legs are steady and I'm standing without shaking or stumbling. "All right...let's see..." I see a, you guessed it, a black wardrobe on the far wall and walk toward it. Somehow I'm banking on the fact that there are clothes in the wardrobe that will just happen to be my size and fit me perfectly. Maybe I'm being overconfident. But somehow I don't think I am. I open the wardrobe and yup, just as I had thought, it's filled with clothes, filled to practically overflowing. Had Walker really transmuted all these clothes for me? And if he had, just exactly how did I feel about that little strange tid-bit?
I choose a silky black top, and some black distressed jeans with studs. At the bottom of the wardrobe I even find shoes, rows upon rows of shoes. Jesus. This was now crossing into the realm of mighty weird. Despite my misgivings I choose a pair of black steel toe boots with a myriad of silver buckle enclosures. I cant for the life of me find any "intimate garments," aka, bras or panties. Shit. Guess I was going commando today. I sigh, and dress as quickly as I can, and then study my appearance in the mirror. Not horrible. My hair could use a good brushing, I totally have bed head right now. But the clothes, the clothes looked good. I still wasn't exactly pleased that I didn't have a bra, but at least the top was black, so wouldn't "show" as much.
"Princess!" Walker throws open the door and strides purposefully into the room.
"Again, Walker, seriously, can't you just knock, please?"
"But where would the fun be in that, darling?"
It was too early for this.
"I see you found the clothes darling. And once again, you look fantastic. Very goth chic."
I roll my eyes. "I don't have a lot of choice do I?"
"Whatever do you mean darling...I thought I provided an abundance of choices, a plethora of choices," he looks actually a bit crushed then, "did I not give you enough? I can—"
"—No, no Walker, that is not what I mean. You provided more than enough garments...probably too many. But they're all, well, lets say the color palette is basically entirely the same, and the styles...they're all what did you call it, 'goth chic'?" I snort, "...So, yes, that's what I meant when I said I didn't have a lot of choice."
"Do you not like them, darling?" Walker still sounds sad.
"Walker, this is...this is...like beyond generous, perhaps even over generous. I'm not trying to be ungrateful whatsoever. I really appreciate it. I guess what I don't appreciate is continuing to wake up in negligee's ...whether you're using magic or not...and then having to find clothes that aren't mine and—"
"—But they are, darling, they are yours! I made them especially for you!"
"I don't know what to say, Walker. I mean, that's either incredibly uh, sweet of you, or incredibly creepy." I clear my throat. "And again, I really would rather not wake up in garments that aren't mine...I think that Segway's wonderfully into the topic of boundaries..."
"Boundaries?"
"Yes, you know, the thing you have absolutely none of."
Walker looks perplexed. "Darling..."
"No, no Walker. I know that this is kinda just...well...how you are...who you are. But if you want to have a working relationship with me, even a possible friendship, then we really need to establish some boundaries. And one of mine is that you stop dressing me in negligees."
"But...but..."
"No buts. This is a hard line for me, Walker. If I'm unconscious, passed out, whatever, you are not to undress me, eyes closed or not, and then re-dress me in something that I haven't approved of, heck, just don't undress me at all." Walker looks crushed and for a second I actually feel a little badly for him. He HAD gone to the trouble of making me an entire wardrobe (of course I'd never asked him to) but he had, and it had to have taken a tremendous amount of power and work to do so.
"I...I suppose I understand."
"You do?" I was a little surprised by his answer, I had sort of expected some resistance.
"I think you look stunning, my dear. But I can understand, I suppose, your reticence, having gone to sleep in one thing, and waking up in another. I...I...I will work on this boundary thing you're talking about."
That was probably the best I was going to get from him. I give him a small smile. "And I'll work on not being an ungrateful bitch, Walker," and I laugh, "...it'll be hard, but hey, if you can keep from killing Garrett, I certainly can try to not be a raging bitch."
"Now THAT, that's what's going to be hard darling," but he says it with a smile to show that he's joking—I think.
"All right, so, down to business. We now know what the assailant, or at least one of them, the worst of them, looks like," I say.
"You saw him clearly?" Walker says clearly impressed.
I nod. "Yes, clear as day. Let's take this conversation elsewhere though. And we should get Garrett."
Walker grimaces. "I suppose if we must. We can talk in the kitchen. I'll prepare you breakfast, you need to eat after last nights Tread, darling."
He was right. I definitely could use some sustenance. I nod, and smile, "Shit, Walker, if you have more of that liquid gold you call coffee, I'll follow you into hell."
Walker smiles a sly smile and wags his eyebrows, "I'll remember you said that darling."
"You have plants," I say shocked.
Walker laughs, "Yes, darling, I have plants."
"Guess I wasn't expecting that."
"Why ever not? I need plants all sorts of greenery for my potions, darling. It only makes sense that I grow them."
I look around the kitchen, which, although, is dark, is truly less creepy than I thought it would be. The plants definitely help. "Yes, but you have actual plants for like, uh, decorative purposes."
"Not really," Walker says.
I laugh and point to the large leafy potted plant on top of one of the shelves. "So, you're telling me that that plant up there...you have it merely to dissect it, take it apart, or eat it eventually?"
Walker clears his throat, "Well, perhaps I do have one or two non-essential plants."
"No need to be embarrassed Walker, I think it's cute. I mean, I have plants too."
"Cute?" And he nearly chokes. "I'm not cute, Annora."
"I didn't say you're cute. I said the fact that you like plants and take care of them, is cute." I gesture around. "Don't worry your reputation is secure, the rest of this kitchen looks like it belongs in Bellevue at the turn of the century. So yes, it fits in perfectly with the rest of your house and interior design."
Walker smiles brilliantly. "Well, thank you darling. What a lovely thing to say."
I roll my eyes. "You were saying something about breakfast?"
"Of course, of course. How remiss of me. You need to eat, darling girl. Do you think the boy, I mean, Goodson would like some breakfast too?"
"I'm sure he'd appreciate something...as long as it's recognizable and uh, edible."
"Sweetheart, I'm not going to poison your weak stomached partner."
"Oh well, thanks for that," I say dryly. I take a seat on a long wooden bench, place my elbows on the table and rest my chin in my hands why I watch Walker fuss and bustle about the kitchen. He is kinda cute like this. All domestic like, surrounded by house plants and—
NO! OH NO! No way was I going there. There was no way I was going to start to think of Walker in that way, in any way other than my very annoying new temporary partner. That way lay dragons. And I definitely didn't need dragons on top of all the shit that was heaped up on me right now.
"Hey Ann...Annora," Garrett strides into the kitchen looking pressed and perfect. How the heck does he do it? I mean, even wearing the same clothes from yesterday, he still looks perfect. It had to be some weird superpower only available to good humans. "Whatcha guys doing?"
"Well, I'm watching Walker prepare us breakfast." I give Garrett a pointed look. "Isn't that kind of him, Garrett? Isn't it nice that he's making breakfast for us?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure, nice...I mean...I could've gotten some pastries and bagels from Shelton's...you didn't have to go to all of this trouble," Garrett say to Walker, who has already begun to expertly crack eggs.
"Pastries and bagels...God, what do you take me for, Goodson? What sort of host would I be if I didn't offer you breakfast? And Annora darling needs sustenance, lots of it...pastries and bagels won't do it for her, they're filled with undesirable elements. She needs real food."
Please Garrett don't say anything. Yeah, it was sort of a dig at him, but please, please just stay quiet...and sane. I'm pleased as punch when it appears that my prayers are answered because Garrett says nothing, just comes to sit next to me on the bench.
"It smells wonderful, Walker. What are you making us?" See, I could be polite.
"Eggs in a blanket, corned beef hash, hashed browns, bacon and sausage."
Oh my gosh. Heaven has a name, and it's called the food Walker's preparing. "You doing all of that for us?"
"Well...more so for some than others...but yes. It's like I told you, you need sustenance dearheart, and nothing filled with useless fats, sugars, or processed shit. And it's not like I didn't have the ingredients on hand, or couldn't conjure them if I needed to, however I did refrain from transmuting any breakfast foods dearheart, for...your Goodson's sake. Somehow I didn't think he'd appreciate the gesture as much as you would."
"Transmuting?" Garrett asks clearly confused.
"Uhm..." I begin but Walker cuts me off.
"—Taking one thing and turning it into something else. In your breakfasts case, I could've taken one of the skulls out of my parlor and turned it into a couple of dozen eggs if I so desired. But, as I said...I didn't think you'd be quite so open to that idea. Plus, mother just delivered me some fresh eggs from her stock a few days ago, sooooo no need for skulls." Walker finishes gaily.
I turn to look at Garrett and he has a pinched look on his face. He really was going to have to get over it. Because if he didn't, well...this would be the longest feeling, or shortest lasting three way partnership in the history of partnerships.
"Uh, well...uhmmm...I appreciate you uh, thinking about me, man," Garrett finally says, and I grace him a large smile. Way to go and be nice and polite Garrett.
Wait? Eggs from Leanore's stock? "Walker are these Leanore's eggs?"
"Why my dear, didn't I just say that."
"No, I mean, are they Leanore's eggs..." Like her magical eggs laid by her magical hens. Jesus, the last thing I needed was to sprout a beak and feathers from consuming one of Walker's mother's magical eggs.
Walker laughs and continues cooking, barely sparing me a glance. "Oh darling are you worried I'm going to magic hocus-pocus you with one of mother's eggs?" He expertly begins to plate and then he tosses me a look from over his shoulder, one filled with mirth. "No worries on that front, dearheart. Just as I knew Goodson here wouldn't appreciate skulled eggs, I knew neither of you would really appreciate any possible side effects from mothers oh-so-special eggs. These are plain ol' boring eggs, from plain ol' boring hens that she keeps along with the, uhmmm, the special ones."
Oh thank goodness. I'm nearly salivating as Walker places mounds of food on the table in front of us. Everything looks insanely delicious. He hadn't been lying when he said he could cook, this stuff looked straight out of the foodnetwork or some gourmet cuisine magazine. I've placed a bit of everything on my plate and am already shoveling food into my mouth when I feel the house begin to shake, as in truly earthquake like shake. I grab the table and turn startled eyes to both Walker and Garrett who seem equally shocked and surprised.
"Earthquake?" Garrett says, having already stood up shakily.
"That was no earthquake," Walker says, eyes narrowed and mouth thin. And then we hear it, the bells, the truly nearly obnoxiously loud ringing like symphony of bells. "Oh the hell no, fuck, just fuck NO! Walker growls and strides quickly from the kitchen. Garrett and I share a look (the, what could possibly have riled up Walker that bad, look) before hurrying after him. When we reach the front of the house, we're truly shocked stupid by the sight that meets our eyes. There, standing right there, in the middle of Walker's foyer is an angel.
"OH MY GOD!" I burst out.
The angel turns to look at me, a beatific smile on his truly stunning face and inclines his head before saying, "Not quite, L'amour de la mort...but...close enough...close enough."