Page 8 of Wishing Upon a Monster
I shivered. “Perhaps.”
We traveled in silence another five minutes before I pulled up to my cottage. My acre and a half was surrounded by gray stone half walls. I drove my truck along the well-worn tire tracks through the shaggy, dormant centipede grass. My house was built with similar stone to the walls, two stories high, with a maroon metal roof that sounded like dancing pixies at a revel every time it rained. I had left the front porch light on, and the little, magic, blown-glass mushrooms that dotted the path from my carport to the porch were charmed to glow after dark.
“Here we are,”I thought, turning the truck off and unbuckling. The truck shook, and my door slowly opened, causing my hand to fall away from the door handle. I blinked stupidly at the monster carrying my purse and holding my door open for me.
“Your conveyance is fascinating. Is the metal enchanted?” he stepped back.
I slid out of my truck, moving out of the way so he could shut the door. “It’s not enchanted; it’s mechanical. I’m not a mechanic, so I can’t give you all the details, but I can get you set up with my laptop, which is bigger than a phone and can connect to the internet and all the answers you could want. Wait––you speak English, but can you read in English?”
“You inadvertently taught me English when you wished. It is a part of our nature to be able to understand the beings that make wishes. Reading is, however, a different skill, one that your Cuélebre gave to me, for a price,” he admitted.
“What was the price?” I led us up the path to my front porch.
“She wanted our firstborn, but I thought that was too much,” he said with such nonchalance that I tripped.
His arms wrapped around me like steel bands, setting me back on my feet like I weighed nothing, his mouth close to my ear. “Careful,min guldklump,I only jest. I have much gold, and it was a simple thing to give her a handful ofSvend Tveskæg coins.She assured me they would be worth plenty in the world today. Our future children are safe.”
The feel of his warm breath on my ear sent a shiver down my spine. Not an entirely unpleasant quake, to be honest.Oh Boy.
“Or girl. I am not one to dissuade a gift,” he replied, letting me go.
“That’s–– that’s a future Aurora and Olan conversation,” Isaid, walking up my front steps to unlock my door. “What I’d like to know now is how to control what thoughts I share with you.”
He leaned down over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, “I like that you are willing to talk about our progeny later, instead of dismissing the thought altogether. If you wish it, I will teach you to block your thoughts from me.” He pushed the door, the golden knob sliding from my immobile fingers as the door arced open. I couldn't move, my heart beating wildly as he kissed my temple before withdrawing, the smell of bracken filling my nose, "All I ask is that you practice talking with me through your thoughts every day. It's how we speak to our mates. I can appreciate humans do not do this, but I would like to meld our cultures, as it were.”
I turned my head, looking up into his ruby gaze inches from mine. “Okay,” I agreed, “I wish it too.”
His grin was sharp, his eyes pleased, and I wondered if I had agreed to more than learning a new skill.
4
Aurora
My stomach growled, interrupting whatever moment this was.
His ruby eyes glimmered with humor. “What do you have in your garden, wife? Surely humans still make stews?”
“I have flowers, mostly,” I murmured, fascinated with the dark purple around his cheeks and lips.
Was his blood purple? If he blushed, would it deepen?
“Are you a carnivore?” He unbent at the waist, his arm going out to push the door open wider for us to enter.
I swear, I saw the rainbow spinney wheel of death as my brain tried to load. I shook my head. “No, I am not just a meat-eater; I enjoy vegetables almost more than I enjoy meat.”
Olan motioned me forward as if it were his house, not mine. I made a noise and led him inside, hanging my purse on the hook by the door.
I wondered if he would like how my cottage was decorated. It had taken me a while to allow myself to embrace my whimsical side. As a child, I was encouraged to do studious tasks, andI tried to be the perfect serious daughter, as if that could make up for my lack of magic.
Spoiler alert, it did not.
Being an enforcer on the preserve paid very well, and I was able to indulge. My home was pastel colored inside—the comfy overstuffed furniture, lace curtains, and other knick-knacks screamed cottagecore. I couldn’t help but collect basic magical items, crystals, wands I could never use, and a few caldrons converted into planters dotted the space. Even though the Goddess hadn’t blessed me with magic, a small altar was set up in a choice spot in my bay window. I liked to think that, though I couldn’t feel Her influence like my family members swore they could, She was still pleased with my offerings.
“It is a beautiful space,min guldklump.I would be honored to share it with you.” He reached his hand out, engulfing mine. “Would you show me more of your domicile?”
I felt my cheeks heat, a pleasant feeling that diffused throughout my body. I hadn’t even shown my parents my house.
Since Kenton and I broke up, I really haven’t had anyone over to see what I’ve done to the place.
