Once Bitten (An Anya Maynard Novel)

Chapter Nineteen

I laughed as I washed the dishes, what else could I do?

“But there’s a…uniqueness to the original films, a distinctive quality. It’s something you just can’t replicate,” Steve said seriously.

“No, there’s a cheesiness,” Jess argued, “You can’t tell me with all the advances they’ve made in CGI technology and what not, with how seamlessly they can add in those crazy fantastical elements that the new movies today aren’t a hundred times better.”

They had been going on about this for a while, debating the pros and cons of original movies versus they’re newer reboots. It started when Jess was surfing the web on Steve’s laptop and saw that they were remaking Romeo and Juliet for the umpteenth time, with a new twist of course. She was excited, but Steve just rolled his eyes, commenting that the story hit its hay day in Shakespeare’s time and should have been left to the stage and not taken to film. And yes, as the eldest child amongst his family, Steve was there to see it in person himself. Thus the debate evolved into such things as green screen versus CGI effects, true make-up artistry versus more computer generated visuals. There had been a quick debate about the inaccuracies of certain elements, but they quickly moved past that considering most human movie makes had never seen an actual Elf, Nymph, Fairy, or Gnome with their own eyes.

I had been to my share of movies, and seen enough on TV, but this was a conversation I left myself out of. Steve and his sister were my first experiences with just one of the four groups they listed, and standing next to Maddie I still wouldn’t have guessed that he was anything but human. Apparently my eyes were no better than those in Hollywood.

I was too distracted anyway to put up any sort of cohesive argument, too busy looking out over the snow, too busy waiting. We knew Brad would come to us eventually and the game plan had been set for when Brad or one of his thugs showed up. We had a plan of attack, of escape, but it required patience. Our design wouldn’t be set into motion until we knew there was a threat.

So we waited.

Connor went into town some time ago to pick up a few more supplies since instead of just two...er...people, he was housing a brood and he wanted to make sure he had enough food for us all. Though he was reluctant to leave Jess and me here it was decided that if Brad’s men were to try and attack one of us while we were separated, that Connor was the one who stood the best chance of winning in the fight. Steve said he can and has done battle in the past, but his kind is known as peace keepers, not fighters. The Dryad half of him at least, he said the other half, his nymph half, is just as likely to start trouble then finish it. And if I thought for a second that “no worries” Steve wasn’t capable of such a thing then I need only remind myself of his irksome little sister.

I needed a distraction, and being high up in the mountains there wasn’t much then what was around us. There really was no TV here, and unlike Jess, a computer just didn’t hold much interest for me. I wandered into Connor’s den and rummaged through his shelves upon shelves of books, but nothing called to me, nothing that could hold my attention.

So I began picking up, a mindless action I could do without thinking, without worrying. I started with the den, folding the blankets and stacking them up in the corner with the pillows that had been spread out across the floor. Connor had been the one who had slept here. Steve said he couldn’t convince him to crash on the couch, that Connor thought it too far from the bedroom to hear if Jess or I was having trouble.

I went to the bedroom next, making the bed and picking up the clothes Connor had left on the floor when he changed. With two sets of cook whites on the hardwoods along with a few other articles- including the bottom half of the set of pajamas I was still wearing- it was pretty apparent that he hadn’t done it in a few days. Not to say that I’m an overly neat person myself, but even scattering out everything I owned it could barely be called clutter. I went back in the bathroom, picking up what was left of Connor’s shredded clothes and tossing them in the trash, doing the same with my uniform. Even if I could get all the blood out I couldn’t wear that again. I’d know it was there.