Page 15 of Wallflower Witch

“I may not be as eloquent as Patrick, but you walked into that crypt like some kind of knight in shining armor to save the princess trapped in her tower and I’ve never seen someone shine as brightly as you.” Josh shrugs. “How could I not, after all of that? Besides, I’ve seen plenty of weird things I can’t understand in my adventures—knowing ghosts are real explains so many things. Getting to learn more about this with you sounds like a great way to get to know each other. I too want to see where this goes if you’ll have me.”

I relax farther into the men who are holding me so caringly. My men, although I don’t know how they’ve become so important to me in such a short time. I push that thought aside for now, content to let their comfort cover me. The rest… Well, there’s plenty of time to figure that out once the rest of this weirdness surrounding me is worked out.

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Quoth chirps grouchily from his cage, unimpressed at being left in it all night. He likes to stretch his wings on occasion, but—and this, in Quoth’s mind, was the more important matter—he’s starving and needs his breakfast if he is going to survive another second.

He spies Morrigan sound asleep on the bed with the first of her fated mates and the squawking gets louder as he yells at them to get him food. They don’t listen. He liked the men the day before when they made sure he ate and drank and was comfortable, but now those feelings were… not quite as nice.

Quoth pecks at the little bar on his cage keeping him from his meal and crows triumphantly when it slides, and the door opens with a clink. He glides smoothly from the cage and swoops to the bed, determination guiding his path as he heads straight towards the annoyances who have distracted Morrigan from her duties.

He perches on the forearm of the huge, tattooed figure pressed against Morrigan’s back and poises to strike, watching as the delicious pink tongue wriggles around the man’s mouth. His wings flutter open to give him balance as he readies himself for a quick dart. Almost. Almost…

Just as Quoth starts his dive, the wonderful scent of berries and granola catches his attention, turning his body just enough to shove a wing in Patrick’s awaiting mouth. But Quoth doesn’t notice. He no longer cares what the humans do with their morning, as his beady eyes lock onto something much, much better.

The small ghost boy grins as the bird flies over to him, offering up a tray of food for it to eat. His pale hand becomes translucent, like the rest of his body, once he’s no longer holding the tray. With a patient smile, the boy waits until the bird is happily eating before giving it a few head pats, then leaves, fading through the motel’s walls like mist.

###

I groan awake as Patrick gags next to me, his arms flailing around as he spits and splutters in the bed behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I mutter sleepily, trying to turn myself but getting tangled in the sheets.

“That dumb bird shoved its wing in my mouth!” he shouts, pawing at his mouth to dislodge the feathers that were left as evidence.

“Quoth,” I call to the naughty pest, glancing at the open cage on the table before I see him happily munching away at something on the counter. The ghost boy from the tree is fading through the wall, and I move towards the foot of the bed to get a closer look.

Why is he back again?

The boy is gone before I can do anything, and I push it out of my head to think more about later, turning back to Patrick with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Patrick. He’s usually well behaved, but he sometimes gets a little bloodthirsty if he’s hungry.”

“At least it was you and not me.” Josh chuckles, his voice deep from sleep. “I have a strict no-feathers-in-mouth policy.” He sits up, freeing me from the sheets before standing and stretching. His muscles flex, and I snap my jaw shut to make sure I don’t accidentally drool or moan or something equally embarrassing.

His body is a work of art honed from hours spent training to save lives and my mind envisions what it would be like to feel him on top of me while Patrick pins me to his chest. I got a pretty good idea of the second last night once Patrick settled into bed next to me, and I wish Quoth hadn’t interrupted things this morning.

Down, girl, I reprimand myself. No dirty thoughts about people you don’t really know.

Not that I ever really avoid doing the things I’m told not to do.

I am a bit surprised at how instantly connected I feel to these men. Normally, I abhor human contact, though I have to deal with some people at work. It takes a month or so before I’m somewhat comfortable around anyone. George and his wife are the only exceptions. The two of them are such adorable human beings; I couldn’t help but love them the moment I met them.

“Mor, do you wanna shower since you didn’t last night?” Josh calls over his shoulder as he beelines for the coffee pot. “Us menfolk can whip up something real quick for breakfast, then we’ll hit the road. We should be able to make it to the city around lunchtime to meet up with Matty.” He glances back at us, smirking at Patrick, who is still cleaning his face. “I texted him last night after you fell asleep, and he said he’d love to take a look at it. If you bring the grimoire along, maybe we can do some reading in it on the way up, too.”

I nod, grabbing my toiletry bag and a change of clothes that someone had retrieved from my car. “Sounds like a great plan. Thank you both. For everything.”

Patrick smiles, grabbing me on the way past to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Any time. We’re here for you, whatever you need.”

The car ride is filled with old-fashioned games like I Spy and Twenty Questions and stories of growing up. Well, the guys share light-hearted stories of growing up. I couldn’t think of any fun or silly stories to share, so I passed.

Quoth hadn’t wanted to return to his cage for the ride up here, so instead we left the motel window open a crack for him to come and go as he pleased. I’m sure he’s getting a little stir-crazy not getting out whenever he likes here.

We reach the city right at noon. The traffic picks up, and it feels like we have slowed to a crawl. I fill my cheeks with air and blow out a hard breath. Patrick reaches up from the backseat and rubs my shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” Josh says, looking over. “Matty won’t be upset if we are a few minutes late.”

I muster a weak smile. “That’s good to know, but it’s not just that…”

The guys wait patiently. Patrick gently massages my shoulders, and Josh sets his hand on my thigh. We drive in silence for a block before I continue.

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