SWAN SONG / damian wayne

FOURTEEN, NIGHTMARES

NOW,

THEY SPENT HALF the night beating up criminals and the other half of the night catching up. It had been a while since she'd talked to Stephanie Brown—hardly someone she was extremely close to, but still a girl she'd consider a friend. Cassandra interjected with the occasional gestures and generally just looked amused.

The night ended a little later than she'd expected. Four in the morning when she drove back to the building. Four thirty when she'd finished writing her briefing for the night and headed back to her penthouse.

The light was on in her living room. Damian was sitting on the sofa, no longer asleep, a book in his hands. The cover read Pride & Prejudice.

"What are you reading that for?" Odile asked with a little laugh, heading to the kitchen to get herself some water. It was her copy, one of the few books she'd brought with her from Hong Kong.

She was a sucker for Austen.

"I was bored. Grabbed the closest thing I could find." He frowned, glancing up. "Mother made me read this when I was nine. I don't know why she thought it was an appropriate age for me to read this."

"It's not gory or overly philosophical."

"No, but it's about love and romance and marriage. Hardly things a nine year old could understand."

"And what age is the right age for love and romance, then?"

"At least eighteen." He made a face. "You cannot love someone else before you've managed to fully understand yourself first."

He wasn't all wrong. But he wasn't all right either. She'd know. But she didn't argue with that. "Why are you still in my penthouse?"

"Am I not welcomed?"

"No, I'm just curious."

His eyes fluttered shut. God, his eyelashes were so long. But then he opened his eyes again. "Like I said, Odile, I don't feel like being alone right now."

"That's fine. Stay all you want. I'm probably going to sleep soon, though."

"I had the dinner you made me. It was delicious, thank you. And the sketch is beautiful."

"You're welcome." Odile yawned. "I think I'm going to take a shower now."

"Want me to make you some food? A sandwich or the like?"

She was about to say no, but then she paused herself. She was hungry. And if Damian was offering to cook for her... who was she to say no? "Yeah. Sure. That'd be nice. I'll be down in a bit."

She wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. She had meetings tomorrow afternoon, the first one at twelve thirty, over lunch. She'd have to be up by eleven at the latest.

But that was fine. She'd cover up her eyebags with makeup and drink a lot of coffee. It wasn't like she wasn't used to ungodly hours of sleep anyways.

She had to have gotten used to it by now.

Remiel had done her best to insist Odile stick to a regular sleep schedule until she was fourteen. But after her short stint with the League of Assassins, all that had gone out of the window. Remiel had sat down with her and established new boundaries: she told Remiel when she was leaving, she kept in contact with Remiel whenever possible throughout, if she was off for more than a week she had to bring someone with her. But she was allowed out at night. Remiel scrubbed her records so she didn't have to go to school anymore, and instead learnt by herself.