Page 81 of Born for Lace

“You shouldn’t growl at people,” I say through a smile. “They may mistake you for being antisocial.”

Tomar snorts with a sudden burst of laughter, not at all trying to smooth over my obvious teasing. Instead, adds, “That would be a real travesty. They might think you’re unapproachable, brother.”

Laughter fills my throat. “It’d break your little heart?—”

“To be left out,” Tomar finishes.

“Take it easy.” Lagos grunts, eyes fixed on the unclear road ahead, but I think that maybe a small part of him enjoyed the breeze of light conversation.

A very, very small part.

I chuckle quietly and realise this is the first time I’ve laughed—properly laughed—since Maple died.

Lifting my eyes, I meet Lagos’ gaze in the mirror. He pauses on me, looking at my smile, and softening before returning to the desert terrain.

My heart pitter-patters.

Casting my gaze through the window beside me, a bright smile rests on my lips. This isn’t goodbye forever; Tomar said he saw people again, outside the community.

And they are happy.

Maybe it’s the dopamine from the laughter or the fact Lagos almost played a role in a joke, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m a bit excited for what the future holds for me. I look at Spero, ‘And for you.’

If Tomar meets me one day in the future, will Lagos come? Are they always together? Suddenly, my mind plucks at a word spoken:brother.

I suppose when you travel together for, what did he say, decades? That person would feel like family.

How did they meet? I don’t want to ask anything that might dampen the easy mood or affect the smooth brow above the brute’s steel-colour gaze.

Things have been….tensebetween them. I’m glad whatever it was seems to be loosening.

I love that expression, Lagos.

I know Tomar saved him… which in itself seems highly unlikely as Lagos is a behemoth, huge across the shoulders and monstrous hands, a giant. And Tomar is only slightly bigger than a Common man.

I’m deep in thought when Lagos suddenly curses, throwing the steering wheel to the left, jostling my body. I cry out but lunge to brace Spero. We churn up an unsealed road, and I try to stifle my whimpers. Red dirt storms around us as we drive away from the main highway, and then?—

He slams on the brakes, and I wince as we jerk to a blunt stop.

“What was that?” Tomar spits out, panting as though he has been running.

“Flower, are you okay?” Lagos reaches a big, warm hand out to me, placing it on my thigh… I feel it everywhere.

I nod fast, questions buzzing on my tongue but silenced by the abrupt rumbling of an engine in the near distance.

And getting closer.

Through a wince, I twist in my seat. The demonic sound grows, and a distinct pounding, almost like metal chewing dirt, echoes from every direction.

“Fuck.” Tomar turns toward the main road, and we all watch vehicle lights filter through the Redwind. “Why aren’t we getting the hell out of here?”

“It’s not Marshals, not military,” Lagos states, his tone blunt and impatient.

Tomar’s unease strikes me. I freeze, not sure what to say or do. My mouth drops open, eyes wide, looking between them for answers.

Tomar searches the red mist. “What do you mean it’s not?—”

“Wait…” Lagos points to the ceiling just as something screeches above us like lightning striking. “Odio.”

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