Page 10 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love
Despite everything, Andromeda laughed.“I’m okay, Quill.Just tired.”
“You look dreadful,” he observed, his small eyes narrowing.“And you smell of that institutional disinfectant they use.Revolting.You should bathe immediately.”
“Always the charmer,” Andromeda bent to scoop him up.“But you’re right.I need a shower.”
“Do you want to talk, something to eat?”Sarah Michelle offered, already heading toward the kitchen.
“Thanks, but I’m beat.”Andromeda stifled a yawn.“Rain check?”
“Of course.Sleep well, Andy.”
In the bathroom, Andromeda set Quill on the counter and turned the water as hot as she could stand it.She stripped off her stained clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor despite Quill’s disapproving clicks.
“Those should be burned,” he declared.“They’ve been contaminated by the vulgar essence of false accusations.”
“It’ll wash off.No need for an exorcism.”
Andromeda stepped under the scalding spray of water.She stood there for a long time, letting the heat soak into her muscles and wash away the memory of the cold interrogation room.She closed her eyes, ready to forget the events of the night.But they kept assaulting her—the shattered door, the handcuffs, the piercing gaze of Detective Malatesta…
Clean and wrapped in her fluffiest robe, Andromeda padded to her bedroom with Quill in her arms.
“We should file a complaint,” he muttered.“The forcible entry alone constitutes a violation of at least three magical statutes, not to mention the emotional distress—”
“Quill,” Andromeda interrupted gently, “can we talk about this tomorrow?I’m dead on my feet.”
The hedgehog huffed but relented.“Very well.I bid you goodnight.”
“Yeah you, too.”She pulled on the oversized t-shirt she always reached for when life got too weird, and crawled into bed.
Quill climbed onto the pillow beside her, at a safe distance not to stab her in her sleep, and settled into a comfortable ball next to her head.
As Andromeda drifted off, her mind swirled in a drowsy mix—the hearing she’d have to face, the death of a local hacking legend, and, despite her best efforts to banish him, the image of a certain dark-eyed cop who’d sent her tea and a blanket even as he accused her of murder.
Her last conscious thought before sleep claimed her was that Detective Cocky-and-Chivalrous wasn’t done with her.
And strangest thing of all, some tiny part of her was looking forward to their next encounter.
***
The doorbell’s insistent chime drilled into Andromeda’s sleepy brain like a jackhammer cracking concrete.The noise dragged her from blessed unconsciousness into the painful reality of morning.She yanked the pillow over her head with a groan, certain she couldn’t have slept more than a few hours.But from the nightstand, the digital clock’s red numbers informed her it was 11:23 AM.That couldn’t be right.
The doorbell rang again, sounding more impatient than before.
“Quill,” she mumbled into her mattress.“Get the door.”
“I weigh less than a pound and cannot reach the doorknob,” came the hedgehog’s prim reply from somewhere near her feet.“Besides, I am not your butler.”
Andromeda groaned and flung the pillow aside.Her body felt like it had been run through a press—every muscle ached from the tension of last night’s interrogation.She’d gladly splay in bed all day.
But the doorbell’s third ring held a borderline aggression.Their buzzer was enchanted to mirror the mood of visitors, and whoever stood outside sounded one unanswered chime away from resorting to other methods of entry.Given her recent experience with law enforcement and doors, she wasn’t taking any chances.
“Coming!”she yelled, her voice scraping against her dry throat as she stumbled out of bed.Her hair was a rat’s nest, and her mouth tasted like she’d been gargling toadstool infusion.
“You look frightful,” Quill observed helpfully as she staggered past him into the hallway.
“Thanks for the update,” she muttered, pausing in the living room.The house was quiet, the morning light filtering through the curtains and dust motes dancing in the beams.
Nox lay curled in a ferret ball on the windowsill, his whiskers twitching at her approach.“If you’re looking for Sarah Michelle, she left for work hours ago.”He stretched languidly.
