She went into the kitchen for coffee, and found Cael there, eating a croissant and drinking coffee. He looked up as she entered and smiled brightly. He was, she thought, dazzled, just entirely too handsome with the sunlight catching in his golden hair and his blue eyes dancing with laughter as if he had been up to some mischief in her absence and was waiting for her to discover it.
“Cecelia,” he purred. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Cael. You still owe me rent,” she reminded him pulling herself together and moving to the kettle. It was still hot to the touch, so she added made a black instant coffee.
“And you still smell of dog,” he replied mildly, but took his wallet out of his jeans and pulled out the contents, counting it out onto the worn tablecloth that Paris liked because of the old-fashioned embroidery around the edges. “There you are,” he tucked the rest away.
“Thank you,” she collected it up and held it awkwardly in one hand, her coffee in the other. She leaned her hips against the kitchen bench, not wanting to join him at the kitchen table, still wary of him and his strange familiarity and appeal.
“Though I should get a discount,” he sipped his coffee, his eyes watching hers. “I don’t remember house pets being mentioned on the advertisement. Will they be staying frequently?”
“I guess,” she replied carefully. She hoped so, she thought thinking of watching Raiden move around the room, her heartbeat picking up. She really did hope so. “I’m sorry if having them around disturbs you.”
He stood and took his cup to the sink, deliberately crowding her against the cupboards at her back, leaning over her and breathing in. “You are still in heat,” he commented, his face angled so that if she tilted her chin ever so slightly their lips would meet, as if in invitation of just that. “But it is better than the other night.”
“Did you learn about what you are from your parents?” She asked him, shuffling slightly to the side to put some space between them, before walking across the room because they were still too close for comfort.
“Of course.” He watched her move with amusement.
“Mine died,” she explained. “I was raised by my grandmother. She taught me a lot about my magic, but she never mentioned this. She died, last year.”
“But she’s still lingering,” he leaned his hips against the kitchen bench where hers had been as if claiming the territory. “I’ve seen her wandering about.”
“Yes. I’m actually…” She leaned against the wall, so that they stood on opposite sides of the room. “I’m grateful she has, as it makes it feel as if I haven’t lost her.” It was nice to have someone to talk to about it, even if that person was Cael. As much as Paris was her best friend, she could not share this part of her life with her, and it was lonely to hold such secrets to herself.
“But you have,” he pointed out bluntly. “It is not good for either of you to stretch it out. Her soul is not at ease. She needs to move on.”
“I guess.” She wondered what kept her grandmother lingering, and how to help her resolve it. But she was not ready for that final goodbye, and so she pushed the thought aside for another time. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him about his upbringing, his parents, and what he knew that she did not, but she did not know where to begin to phrase them.
“You should find a witch,” he said casually, pushing off the kitchen bench and crossing the room to open the door next to where she stood. He looked down at her. “There are plenty around. Find one who will take you as apprentice. Learn about your powers. Stay away from the dogs, they are not your kind. You have a lot of potential, and the dogs would have you squander it and squeeze out litters instead.”
The door swung shut behind him.
She sighed heavily. It was the second time someone had warned her off Raiden. Elior had said something similar, not quite so offensive and direct, but to the same effect. She finished her coffee and ate an apple, before searching through the cupboard for something for the fairy.
She stopped by her bedroom to put the money into her safe, before continuing to the solarium. It was warm and moist in the glass room, the morning sun streaming in through the dirty windows. She sighed, adding cleaning the solarium windows to a never-ending list of chores that never seemed to get done.
The fairy had fashioned himself a round nest ball out of the dried leaf matter and poked his head out when she neared his atrium. He did not hiss at her but watched warily. She risked getting her fingers bitten and reached into the glass in order to place her offerings before him. A cracker, a couple of grapes, and a cube of sugar.
“I have no idea what you eat,” she told him apologetically.
Her grandmother’s ghost wandered into the room. “I like your man, Clarissa,” she said, calling Lia by her mother’s name. “He seems strong. He should be able to help you when the Wingless come. You must prepare, the protection spell is faltering.”
“What protection spell, grandmother?” Lia looked at her in alarm. Her grandmother had never mentioned a protection spell before.
“Everything you need to know is in the book, Lia,” her grandmother’s ghost looked at her, her eyes sharpening with awareness. “I’ve always told you that. But you have to ask the right questions.”
“What questions?” Lia asked, but the focus had gone from the ghost, and her grandmother faded away as she drifted towards the door.