➸ AFTER THE STORM

CHAPTER IX - YOU MADE A DEAL WITH A FAE?

CHRISTOPER

Lola comes out of her room wearing a sundress that falls off her shoulder, the fabric a soft rose pink.

"How is she?" Lola asks, checking her phone before looking up at me.

Christoper doesn't answer right away. He just watches as Venus's chest rises and falls with each breath.

"She's still asleep. Did you find her like this?" he asks, holding Venus's hand. He's careful—so careful. There are times he forgets his own strength, and he never wants to hurt her.

"She was by the stream. She claimed to be lost and couldn't remember her name. When she tried to recall it, she passed out."

Christoper stiffens when the words passed out leave her lips.

"Besides that, did she remember anything? You? The woods?" he questions.

Lola sighs. "Chris, I don't know. She lost consciousness before I could ask her anything else. Maybe she had another life, or maybe she was in some weird limbo before she came here."

He listens, but something doesn't sit right. He feels there's more to the story than she's telling him.

"How did she even get here, Lola? We've been looking for her for centuries. We always came up short. What was different this time? Do we even know if she'll stay, or will she disappear the moment we look away?"

His voice drips with irritation and uncertainty, but beneath it all, there's fear—the fear that the next time he turns around, the woman lying before him will be gone. That she was never really here at all. Just another illusion, haunting him day after day, lifetime after lifetime.

It is a cruel fate, one he would never wish on another soul.

"We're going to figure out a way to make her stay this time. Also, why did you get into it with August before you came here?" Lola asks as she walks into the kitchen to start some tea.

"He was bitching at me again. About finding someone." Christoper sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

"That explains the text message I got from him. You know he's only doing his job—as your friend and your right hand." She gives him a knowing look.

"I know. Also, don't change the subject. How did she get here, Lola?" Christoper asks again. The feeling in his gut tells him there's more going on.

"Why do you think I know?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea and adding a little sugar. She sets a cup in front of him and then sits in the rocking chair near the sunlit window.

"Because nothing comes in or out of these woods without your knowledge," Christoper states, taking a sip of his tea. The bitter taste reminds him of what mortals call a cup of joe.

Christoper studies her body language as she sips her tea.

"Now, let's not insult our intelligence. Answer my question, Lola." His tone is firm but with distaste.

Lola sighs, uncrossing her legs. Her gaze shifts to Venus's sleeping form, then back to him.

"Don't use that tone with me, Christoper," Lola warns, her expression mirroring his.

Even when his eyes flash at her, she doesn't flinch.

"That doesn't scare me, you oversized puppy," she teases, knowing full well the word puppy doesn't align with his true nature.

She takes a breath before saying, "But I'll tell you—before you burst a blood vessel all over my good rug." She takes a long sip of her tea.

"I talked to—" She pauses, choosing her words carefully.

Christoper narrows his eyes. "You talked to who?"

"Toska. I don't know if you're familiar."

The second the name leaves her lips, Christoper looks at her like she's lost her mind.

"You made a deal with a fae?" His voice is strangely calm, mostly for Venus's sake. She's still asleep, the small fox beside her, resting near the couch's edge.

"Don't be like that, Chris. You know the fae have never done us wrong," Lola argues.

"Toska isn't only fae, Lola," he states, as if that should be enough reason to never make a deal with them.

"I'm aware, Chris. That's why I knew she would be the best option to bring Venus back to us." Lola finishes her tea.

"What did she—what does she want in return?" Christoper asks, dread creeping into his voice.

Lola thinks back to that day with Toska before answering.

"She never said."

"Oh, great. Now we're in debt to a demon-deer hybrid," Christoper mutters, rubbing his temple in frustration. "The gods are laughing at me, and my father is rolling in his damn grave."

Lola smirks. "Your father is in a cookie jar, but I don't think you want to argue semantics." She stands up to pour herself another cup of tea.