Blood: The Third Course

Chapter Forty-Eight

Spencer hobbled across the room and opened the top drawer in his chest of drawers. August would probably have him tortured if he found he'd defied his orders and gotten out of bed, but he couldn't stand the idea of everyone else running around while he lay useless. He could at least pick out some clothes and find the little trinkets he wanted to remind him of his time here. Not many people got to fully remember the first years of their lives, and his years as a vampire were, in his opinion, the only ones that mattered.

The door clicked open, and Spencer glanced at it in horror. Shit, busted.

"It's me!" a very not-August whisper came through the door.

Pushing the door just wide enough, Edeline peeked her head through. Spencer braced himself against the chest of drawers and watched—half in suspicion, and half in amusement—as she squeezed through the unnecessarily small gap she had opened. She closed the door behind her just as carefully, ensuring it was silent.

"Carson worried we're going to run off together?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Is August?"

Spencer grumbled and grabbed a handful of pairs of socks, tossing them towards the bed.

"You'd know better than I would at this point."

"Oh ptsh!" Edeline rolled her eyes and crossed the room. Grabbing his waist—thankfully missing all the injuries with her small hands—she guided him back to the bed and, with a surprising amount of strength, forced him to sit down. "If you're going to be such a wet blanket, this trip is going to be no fun."

She returned to the chest of drawers, but instead of selecting out useful clothes, she pulled out the entire drawer and, with a mischievous grin, upended it onto the bed. Rolled-up pairs of socks went bouncing across the mattress, and his boxers flumped into a messy pile. Edeline replaced the drawer in the unit and came to sit on the bed. She grabbed the pile of boxers and began counting them out.

"You wouldn't get very far, you know," she said once the counting was done. She selected out an even dozen pairs and set them in a smaller pile. She discarded the rest to the floor and started on the socks.

Spencer watched her with what he hoped looked like disinterest, only, his thoughts were working overtime.

"We lost them for three months," he said. "And I was high. You think I couldn't do better sober?"

"I think you couldn't do better against me," Edeline said, glancing up just long enough to meet his gaze. She held out a pair of socks before making an over-exaggerated basketball shot towards the trash. The socks bounced off the rim and landed on the floor.

Spencer sighed and tossed the pair he'd been handed. They soared in an arc straight into the metal bin. Edeline clapped.

"I don't understand why you'd even want me around," he said. "Before, with Vince, it was necessity. This isn't. You can have a whole new life."

Edeline grabbed a dozen pairs of socks at random and dumped them in the pile with the boxers. Sweeping the rest onto the floor, she returned to the chest of drawers and pulled out the second drawer down. Unlike the underwear, she didn't upend this one. She stared at it, her back to him.

"Do you know how hard it is to find someone who understands... what I can do?" she asked quietly. "It's a parlour trick to them, even Carson. They don't... get it."

"Edie, come on."

She turned to him, a pile of shirts in her hands.

"I have spent more time listening to you than anyone," she said. "Even my father."