Page 97 of Emma & Edmund

"Damn it, girl! I wanted you to rest, not sleep like the dead!"

In the blink of an eye, Molek was before her, his too-young brow knitted together in annoyance, his arms crossed over his lewd chest. Gone was the black cloak that hid his ruby body, leaving only the meager cloth around his waist.

Attempting to rub the pain from her eyes, Emma grumbled, "Why are you naked? We're still not back-"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," lightening flashed against his toothy grin, "we're among friends."

Dread filled Emma's stomach; an unknown number of terrible situations Molek could consider 'friendly' dancing in her head.

As she peeked out of the dust-caked window, she almost expected to see the fires of eternal damnation licking up the side of the cabin.

Instead, she could hardly see anything at all. Rain pelted the ground, the darkness was unforgiving, and only when the lightning struck again in the distance did Emma see just how far into the woods they had traveled. The thick tree line ran close to the road, branches reaching over the coach.

When the thunder clapped, quickly followed by another burst of light, Emma finally noticed the flickering, distant glow of a window. A small cottage, even smaller than Edmunds, hid itself amongst the leaves and brush.

"Molek," Emma began warily, "who are these friends we have ridden up on? Are they expecting us?"

"Oh, don't worry about any of that," Molek pulled her up by the elbow, throwing open the cabin door. Wind whipped through the small space, scattering Emma's hair and prickling her skin. The very last thing she wanted to do was to trudge through such a ruckus, only to be an unannounced guest to someone just trying to weather out the storm.

"I'll sleep in the coach." Emma attempted, with little success, to free herself from Molek's grasp, only for her to be dragged up again, the stench of his breath washing over her face as he brought them nose to nose.

"You listen to me, you little brat. It might not be a palace, but the person in there will take care of you. And they will do it because I command them to. So, if you want to stay fed and rested, I suggest you do as I say and make your way to that door."

For the first time in a while, fear of the demon holding her burst through her veins. She had grown used to and far too comfortable with his presence. So much so she had momentarily forgotten just what he was and the evil that lay just below the surface. She saw it simmering now, saw it wanting to burst out.

"Will you be joining me, then?" Emma hoarsely spoke through a dry throat.

"I won't," Molek's face softened, even just a bit, "there is an altar for me nearby. I'll spend my time there. That way, we'll both be rested for tomorrow."

"You're going to send me to a stranger alone!" It wasn't a question, but Molek nodded all the same.

"You managed well enough last night, what's the difference now?"

"That was an inn! They expect you'll show up unannounced, needing a room. No one expects that for a private residence, let alone one so rural and in the middle of a storm!"

Fishing in the waistband of his sparse clothing, Molek pulled out a small thing, pressing it into the palm of Emma's hand. It took another flash of lightning to see it was a small, knotted-up piece of paper.

"Give this to the owner. They'll take you in without a problem."

"You're not going to give me a choice, are you?"

Molek's grin stretched impossibly wider. "When have I ever?"

Emma told herself that it was her pure frustration of her traveling companion alone that had her relenting with a huff, tucking the small paper into her purse before turning again to the howling wind and pounding rain misting into the small coach.

The moment she exposed herself to the elements, her hair matted against her cheeks, and her dress hung heavier with the weight of water seeping into the fabric. With a hand fruitlessly over her eyes, acting as the world's most useless shield, Emma stepped down the three short steps.

On the final one, her heel caught on the edge, sending Emma careening to the ground. The soft mud cushioned her fall, coating her from face to foot, splashing up around her ears, and digging under her fingernails.

The howling of Molek burst over the thunder. Shame coursed through her as Emma pushed herself up, the taste of dirt ripe on her tongue. Once she found proper footing, she wiped a hand down her face, smearing the filth away from her eyes.

"Go to Hell!" She shot behind her, the cackling only growing louder. Anger and embarrassment fueled her pounding footsteps, ignoring the ever-present laughter that followed her up the short path to the cottage.

Closer now, it was obvious the place was hardly big enough for two rooms. With no curtains on the windows, Emma could see the burning fire, the pot over it, and at least one worn sofa. At the very least, it wasn't raining there.

It was that thought alone that had her rapping on the door with three quick knocks. Through the noise of the storm, she heard rustling, but the door did not open.

She knocked again, harder, thinking that perhaps the cabin's owner hadn't heard her at first.

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