The Arrival | The House of Voices #3

Twenty Two - Go

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October:

When I went down to breakfast the next morning, I was greeted with the sight of Spade making waffles in the kitchen.

Compared to the mood I found him in the night before, he was pretty cheerful, smiling a little to himself as he poured strawberries into a bowl.

“Ace isn’t cooking today?”

He turned around at the sound of my voice and shook his head. “It’s Sunday. She’s sleeping in.”

“I thought Saturday was for sleeping in,”

He chuckled quietly, dark green eyes twinkling. “It’s not included in the old quote, but the rule applies for Sundays as well.”

“Right.”

“She should be down in a few minutes,” he said, glancing at the wall clock. “The potion’s almost done.”

At his words, I looked over to the stove where, under the lid, bubbling liquid was seeping out through the gaps, a muddy green color. Spade wrinkled his nose distastefully at the pot just as Ace walked into the room, running a hand sleepily through her thick hair.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” Spade said to her when he noticed her come in.

She smiled at him and said, “Hey yourself, Raincloud,” moving straight for the pot on the stove. “Morning, October.”

“Good morning.”

As she lifted the lid I snuck a glance in Spade’s direction to see how he reacted to the nickname. I couldn’t tell if it was an insult or not until I saw the little smile that crept into his eyes as he watched her grimace at the wash of hot steam that hit her face.

“Oh God,” she pretended to gag and slammed the lid back down. “Yeah, that’s almost ready.”

“You look better,” Spade commented, ignoring the faces she was making at the brewing potion. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright,” she shrugged slightly and moved to sit down at her usual spot at the kitchen table, across from me. She always left the spot at the head of the table for Spade. I assumed it was his usual.

Spade, who’d been flipping waffles onto a plates, paused for a second to eye her suspiciously. She traced a finger along the edge of the table, dropping her head just enough that the side of her face was immediately covered by a thick curtain of hair.

“Ace.” He placed two plates in front of both of us, a stack of hot waffles each covered in strawberries and chocolate sauce, and then took a slow step back, tilting his head until he could look Ace in the face.

“I slept fine, Spade,” she said after a little sigh, lifting her head and tossing her hair back. He raised an eyebrow. She sighed again.

“Hugh called this morning,” she said mildly, picking up her fork and blindly stabbing at a strawberry. Her wide eyes searched Spade’s face. “To apologize…”

“Ah,” Spade blinked once. “Good.”

Ace looked down just in time to miss Spade’s eyes darken and the muscle in his jaw begin to work. By the time she looked up again, he had turned his back to us and was busy flipping waffles onto his own plate.

By the time we finished eating and washing up, the potion bubbling under the pot had turned a funny greenish orange, and hissed and spewed splashes of smelly liquid from under the lid.