Page 101 of Red Demon
“What, Asher?” she said.
“Just making sure you no longer want to cut me open like a melon.” He stood taller. “Can I hug you? You saved our lives back there, and I—I want to hug you.”
Faruhar froze, eyes still wide as she nodded. Asher enveloped her in a warm embrace, and I watched as her fists unclench. Slowly, she softened in his arms, and I wondered how long it had been since someone held her like that.
I didn’t even wait for Asher to pull away before I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around them both. She turned into me. Any air between Faruhar and my body crackled with a tension that wasn’t entirely unwelcome, demanding I hold her tighter. When Asher pulled away, she leaned into the warmth of me, holding on just as tight, taking a deep breath at my neck. In that moment, the forest sounds faded, replaced by the frantic drumming of my heart.
I could not let go.
“Jesse,” she breathed. I froze at the sound of my name in her mouth, pulling my hips away just enough to not let this get awkward, because it was about to get awkward.
“I want my swords back,” she said.
An abandoned farmhouse stood not far away, one with rough but sturdy walls. With a little firewood and a wipe of a stone table, we had a sparse home for the night. We changed into new clothes provided by Telesilla, and huddled around a true meal: roasted beech nuts, flatbread, a mushroom stew and asimina for dessert. We knew we needed the rest, and I let the heat of the fire warm us to the bone as Asher and I caught her up on what she’d missed.
Her mind kept flashes without context: our first fight, threatening Asher. Mahakal. She had most of the pieces in her mind, if I was patient enough to help her reassemble. When I sat beside her at the end of her questioning, a spark of something deeper than recognition ignited in her eyes.
I had to look away. The fire in the charcoaled hearth didn’t shine as bright.
Although the farmhouse was devoid of most furniture, the Asri stone construction held strong, offering us each a separate room. Faruhar surrendered her weapons; we hid them under crates in a dusty pantry before heading for bed.
Alone in my makeshift bed of straw and leaves, sleep eluded me, my mind drifting to the stolen glances from Faruhar. I reminded myself there was no name I could place on that emotion, not if she couldn’t remember her name and mine. She remembers those she trusts. I needed to be that friend she trusted.
Still, I was worried about her waking up in a strange room with no one and nothing familiar to orient her except for a few notes she promised to scrawl on the wall with charcoal. Unable to shake my unease, I rose and crept down the creaking hallway. Reaching Faruhar’s door, I found it ajar, a beam of moonlight casting through the shattered window. And there she stood, a silhouette scribbling away by the window sill with dark-stained fingers. I don’t know why that image stole my breath.
“Faruhar?” I creaked the door open.
She turned to me, relief flooding her features. She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her loose flaxen shirt. “Jesse. I don’t know if this is enough—” She gestured to the notes she left on the walls, all of them, and then all over the floor in her scrawl of handwriting.
I bit my lip. “That’s gonna be a lot to clean in the morning. We don’t want to leave clues behind.”
“Right. Sorry.” She clenched her eyes tight. “Do you mind staying? Just in case? I know your new face now, so I should trust it even without the reminders.”
Her words, so quiet, softened what little resistance I had. “No problem.” She sat on the wooden bed frame topped with straw. I sat down on the window seat.
“When we’re near a town, can you buy me a new journal and fill it in? I don’t like taking risks like this, not when—” The vulnerability in her voice was a siren call. Within a single breath, I stepped forward, the space between us closing.
“I’m not afraid of you.” I reached out a hand, hesitant at first, then with a growing sense of resolve. My fingers brushed hers, and her hand trembled for a moment before relaxing in mine, her touch electric against my skin. “You’re safe with me.”
It took a moment for her to breathe in, to accept that.
She lay down in the straw bed, not letting go of my hand. I settled beside her, watching her every breath.
The firelight from the hearth mirrored the same intensity I felt in my own body. I felt an overwhelming urge to pull her closer, to bridge the gap, but I knew better. I was the friend she trusted.
In the morning, she tightened her hand in mine. I’m not sure I ever let go. Her smile held its place when she opened her brilliant eyes for me. “I still like your real face better.”
I swallowed, forcing myself not to make any sudden moves, just in case. “You’re safe, Faruhar, I’m Jesse—”
“I know.”
I shared the relief that flooded her face. It overcame me too, becoming a bittersweet pang in my chest. “You do?”
“Yeah.” She squeezed my hand again. “You stayed in my dreams, even the unnerving ones. It helped that you were so close.” A haunted look crossed her face, and my free hand went up to brush that fear away.
A rap at the bedroom door. Asher cleared his throat.
“Come in,” I said.
