Killing Sunlight

CHAPTER SEVEN | Wardrobe Malfunction

Saturday arrived. It was just another day, but it was another day Karou had survived.

Immersed in the illusion of being washed in warm summer rain, the bright bathroom light illuminated her eyelids in sunshine orange while she contemplated her predicament. By some miracle, she had landed on her feet. Initially, that made her nervous; it seemed too good to be true, but she was determined to remain positive. Keeping everything in perspective was the only way to get to the other side of whatever this was, but it was no stretch to conclude that she'd never had it so good! Right now, her circumstances felt like a vacation.

Wrapped in the largest and fluffiest towel she'd ever encountered, Karou sat on Warren's queen-size bed, processing her stroke of luck. Sure, she had no idea who the man she found herself cohabitating with was, but so far, he hadn't hurt her—and he'd had four days of opportunity. It begged belief that she didn't sense that the tall, dark, and handsome stranger was a threat. In the silence, she savoured the solace.

Mr. Howard went about his daily business so quietly that sometimes Karou questioned whether he walked or levitated—she hadn't attuned to his near-inaudible footfalls. He never lingered long in the living spaces. From what she'd glimpsed through the door on the far side of the lounge, she surmised that the room he disappeared into every morning was an office. Oh, boy, was this guy a workaholic! When he'd explained to her that his work consumed most of his time, she hadn't understood to what extent. Some days, he would be cooped up in there for more than twelve hours—she'd counted.

While he worked, she had free reign, but of course, she couldn't leave the unit. Her host had insisted she eat what she liked from the kitchen, between the two square meals he prepared for her and was left to choose what to watch on the television every evening. Apparently, he didn't mind, as long as he could relax on the couch with a glass of scotch and smoke to 'unwind' before he passed out. All the niceties came at a price, though, because she had to endure his chilly demeanour and bluntness should she dare to speak to him.

Pulling off the towel she had wrapped around her hair, it pleased her how pleasant it smelled. Quite generously, all manner of toiletries had been provided for her by the Friday after she'd arrived. Warren had made all manner of accommodations to help her feel at home yet went about it with a begrudging air. It wasn't devastating since she'd never felt welcome in the household into which she'd been born, either, but she wasn't some unfeeling thing, so the inconsistencies in Warren's mood were annoying.

Karou wasn't one to complain; she lived by the motto that complaining never did anyone any good. However, once she was ready to get dressed, her face pinched—she discovered her underwear and socks were still damp. Since she had no other clothes save for what she had arrived in, she'd been washing her delicates in the bathroom sink and putting them on the heated towel rail to dry every day. Her jeans, top, and sweatshirt were overdue for a wash, but they were too bulky to do the same.

I'll have to ask Warren if there's a laundry room, Karou was distracted in her thoughts, ambling towards the kitchen. It's so strange having his name in my head. Warren. Warren Howard. Mister Warren Howard.

"Good morning, or should I say afternoon?" The very person on her mind greeted her. Breakfast time had long passed. Karou was prone to getting up late, whereas Warren was an early bird. Oddly, he was taking a lunch break—odd because he didn't often remember to. Indeed, Karou was surprised to find him sitting at the kitchen island with a newspaper—it was a broadsheet—one with a title she'd never heard of before: 'In Guardianus'. "Don't forget to eat." It had become a habit to remind her, he'd already picked up on Karou's custom of only drinking coffee for breakfast. If she was going to stay, she might as well be healthy. It wasn't so much a kindness as he thought a healthy Mortal was less likely to cause him trouble.