Page 54 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“There will be a sofa or something, though,” Rory added. “We can take turns. Or you can just have the bed because you are doing me a favour after all.”
Is that how he saw me accompanying him? As if I were some reluctant participant, dragged along against my will?
“I’m being paid to come with you,” I pointed out, slightly clipped.
Rory pulled a very strange expression before looking away. “Yeah, I know.”
Silence fell awkwardly between us. For some reason, it felt like I’d said the wrong thing entirely.
I cleared my throat. “It’ll be dark soon, and you can go for a run.”
Rory’s face brightened instantly, the tension draining from his shoulders. It was remarkable how quickly his mood could shift.
I hesitated, then added, “Can I… come with you?”
Rory’s eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly. “Okay,” he said after a moment, the single word carrying a weight of surprise. Then his eyes bulged, and he shouted, “Fuck!”
I twisted to see Freddy nose deep in the small paper coffee cup, which I’d taken one sip of and rejected. The ferret’s matted grey tail twitched with alarming enthusiasm.
“Quick!” Rory scrambled to his feet. “You know what he’s like on caffeine!”
I lunged, but Freddy, sensing the approaching threat to his beverage consumption, leapt straight up into the air with supernatural agility. Coffee droplets scattered across the floral wallpaper as he sailed past my outstretched hands.
“Gotcha!” I made another grab for him, but the little bastard twisted mid-air and sank his yellowed teeth deep into the flesh between my thumb and forefinger.
“ARGH!” The scream tore from my throat as white-hot pain shot up my arm. Freddy dangled from my hand like some demented Christmas ornament, his glowing yellow eyes rolling back in what looked suspiciously like bliss.
I shook my hand frantically, trying to dislodge him, but his jaw had locked with rigor mortis determination. “Get him off!” I shouted, dancing around the small room like I was being electrocuted.
Rory rushed over, but instead of helping me, he immediately started cooing at the ferret. “Oh, Freddy, sweetheart. You naughty boy. Let go of the nice man.”
I stared at him incredulously, still trying to shake Freddy loose. “I’m bleeding!”
He only gently stroked Freddy’s fur whilst the creature remained firmly attached to my hand.
“RORY!” I bellowed.
“What?” He looked up at me with genuine confusion, as if it were perfectly normal to prioritise a zombie ferret’s emotional wellbeing over a human bite wound.
“Here, hold still,” Rory said, having the audacity togiggleas he gently pried Freddy’s jaw open.
I stared down at the bleeding puncture wounds. “Brilliant.”
“Oh, stop being such a baby.” Rory was practically vibrating as he headed for the tiny en suite. “I’ll get you some tissues. But honestly, you just need to be nicer to him if you want him to like you.”
“I don’t want himto like me,” I called after him, glaring at the ridiculous creature who was now whizzing around at lightning speed, chasing his own tail like a dog. “Why would I want him tolike me?!”
A couple of hours later—in which I’d caught up on some of my actual police work—darkness had properly fallen. Rory began squirming restlessly, repeatedly looking out of the window at the night sky.
“Okay, it’s probably fine now,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. “Which is good, because I’m getting hungry again. Hopefully, I can catch a rabbit or something.”
I stared at him. “The wrap was huge!” I’d fetched us two falafel wraps from the kitchen, and even given him the last bite of mine after he gave me puppy-dog eyes.
“Wolf thing,” he said with a shrug. Reaching to his left ear with two hands, he started systematically removing his earrings. When he caught me staring, he said, “I can leave a few of the larger hoops in, but most of them just ping off and spray everywhere if I don’t take them out before I shift. And I can’t afford to keep losing them, because some of them are white gold, because you know, silver.”
It took a considerable effort for me not to make a comment about how impractical it seemed to bother wearing them at all.
Rory whispered sweet nothings into Freddy’s ear, then grabbed a small drawstring bag from his luggage. I followed as he darted down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Typical Rory—always moving like he was being chased.
