Page 26 of Above Cursed Winds

“Yep, yep, I’m up,” he lied, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he focused on Myko. “What’s up, little man?”

“My mom had to leave.” Myko brushed a hand through his unruly curls. “She said to feed you Fruit Loops.”

A loud guffaw left Jeremiah’s lips.

“Fruit Loops, huh? I could go for a bowl of those.”

He stretched until his bones began to groan, watching Myko scramble into the kitchen. The clatter of bowls and spoons started only moments later. Jeremiah sat up, tugging a hand through his shoulder-length hair before pulling them into a disheveled bun at the back of his head.

“You want the spoon that turns colors in the milk?”

Myko’s question snapped him back to reality, the eight-year old’s beaming face hovering before him. “Only if there are two. Wouldn’t want you to have to use a boring spoon. Everyone knows Fruit Loops don’t taste as good if the spoon doesn’t change color.”

While Myko retrieved the magical spoons, Jeremiah poured each of them a bowl. For breakfast entertainment, his host treated him to an excited lecture on the hunting prowess of T-Rex versus the velociraptor.

“Hey, little man,” Jeremiah said during a dinosaurian break, “is there a working shower I can use?”

Myko jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Yeah, my mom’s shower works. I’ll tell her you’re in there. I’ll do some practice laps in Mario Kart so I can beat you later!”

Going upstairs, a pit began to form in his stomach. Intruding into Zia’s room without her express permission, though it’d been implied last night, would feel like a violation.

Though being in Zia’s home felt oddly right, he couldn’t afford to soften toward her. She was his only suspect. It didn’t matter that losing in Mario Kart to Myko was the most fun he’d had in ages or that he’d gotten the best night’s sleep he’d had in two years on Zia’s couch. Making himself at home under her roof seemed at odds with his entire purpose in being here.

Arriving on the second floor, he hesitated. Myko’s room was instantly recognizable; Jeremiah doubted that Zia had a “Dinosaurs Only” sign taped to the door, or pictures of dinosaurs plastered over the walls. There were three other doors, but with only a second’s indecision, he turned toward the one on the north side.

A sweet tropical scent he would recognize anywhere had beckoned him closer.

Hesitantly, he pushed the halfway-open door. He held his breath as he looked around the bedroom as though he expected her to come barreling at him with a weapon. When no sword-wielding ninja appeared, his shoulders loosened.

Zia’s room was the perfect mixture of feminine and fiery, the colors on the bedspread and her assorted collection of throw pillows black, white, and red. Though the walls were bare and painted an ordinary ivory, there were a handful of framed pieces in the corner resting against open boxes.

Each was a tasteful abstraction, the three colors on each piece perfectly balanced with those of the room. For a moment, Jeremiah simply stopped to appreciate them.

Downstairs, Myko’s angry exclamation snapped him out of his trance.

Her room was still unfinished after the very recent move, and piles of hardware and tools were stacked in a corner, waiting for the busy clan lieutenant to dedicate time to fixing it up. Her priority had clearly been her son’s room and the shared spaces.

Heading into the bathroom, he gently closed the door behind him, finding it lacked a doorknob. Fortunately, it stayed put well enough without one. He chuckled to himself before grabbing a towel and the travel-size bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash he had in his bag.

The waterfall shower turned on without fanfare, and he stepped under the generous flood with a sigh of relief. He deliberately took his time, enjoying this small comfort. As the heated water relaxed his tense muscles, he studied the startling variety of hair products in one corner of the shower. Though he could admit he took pride in his own hair, he typically got away with store-brand soaps.

Zia’s stash rivaled a professional’s. Color correct shampoos, deep conditioners, cream rinses, strengthening gels: he’d never even heard of most of them. If he had any less integrity, he would’ve tried at least one conditioner to see if its claims of ‘softest hair ever’ were indeed true.

He found himself smiling when imagining Zia’s face as she discovered he’d used her products. Though he’d normally chastise himself for it, he was in Hawaii, for fate’s sake. At least he could enjoy a leisurely morning.

Cutting off the water, he stepped out into the steam, letting the water sluice off his towering frame before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist.

That was the moment the door opened.

Chapter Thirteen

The baby had been fine. Though she’d taken a tumble from her crib—like a little acrobat—she’d landed on her rump instead of her head. While the father had calmly telepathed Luna, requesting her assistance when she had a free moment, the mother had blazed a yelling telepathic scream directly into Zia’s psychic ear.

Feeling like she was about to become partially deaf, Zia had thrown on a pair of leggings and teleported over there, hoping her son and Jeremiah would be okay without her for half an hour.

She realized that she instinctively didn’t worry. She’d seen how the Elemental had treated her son yesterday, the kindness that radiated across his features—and his mind—when he looked at Myko. She hadn’t expected it, but she’d appreciated it more than she could ever express.

Having just comforted a hyperventilating mother, Zia teleported directly back into her bedroom, intent on washing the sleep from her eyes and throwing on a bit of lipstick before she officially welcomed the day.

---