Synergy

Chapter Eight

Bay shuttered awake. In sleepy twilight, images flashed before him. A Shade, a ward, vampires, witches, warlocks--all fighting demons. Marlow, a forest, Bay ran between trees. The black confetti of an ended Shade, Equinox collapsed in the grass. Equinox caressing Bay's face, a sudden pang of loneliness.

Bay's eyes grinded open, they felt dry and tired. The sun shone through his window at full wattage declaring it was well passed morning. Bay looked over to the digital clock on his nightstand, the neon-blue number's glow was dimmed by the sun and blurred by the fog of the warlock's tired eyes.

Bay rubbed his eyes to rid them of this fog, then tried to focus. Nope, still blurry.

Bay rolled his eyes at his own flakiness. Of course he couldn't see, he needed his glasses. He snatched them from their perch next to the clock. He slid them on his tipped-up nose. At last he could see the time.

12:23 pm.

He'd slept well passed breakfast. Lunch was being served. Bay hoped it wasn't something that would be horrible to eat first thing after waking up. If, so, he'd just scrounge in the fringe for something.

Bay's body argued with him as he slid to the edge of the bed. He let his feet fall to the floor the wood was cool and slick under his bare soles. He cradled his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. His eyes were heavy and his brain begged for more sleep. But he knew if he gave in he'd feel like crap when he awoke again.

Bay trudged to his bathroom; maybe a warm shower would make him feel more human and less zombie. As he looked up he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Holy shit, he looked like Death. No . . .he looked like Death's uglier, estranged brother. The dark circles under his eyes demanded you to pay attention to them, his hair looked like twenty cats had licked in every direction, and he was pretty sure his breath smelled like those cats' litter box.

As he grabbed for his toothbrush, he noticed a creature sitting primly on the edge of his tub. Bay smiled, reaching out to pet the animal's head, "Well, hullo there. Why aren't you with Noxy?"

It was Equinox's pet cat, Elysium. The animal purred as Bay stroked its silky, ebony black fur. Usually Elysium hung in Noxy's room during his Quietus, but Bay guessed that Noxy had unknowingly fastened the door tightly before the cat could get in. Being in the coma of Quietus, Noxy wouldn't have heard if the cat scratched to get in.

Bay must have not fastened his own door all the way when he'd gone to bed. If Elysium couldn't be with Equinox, her second choice was always Bay.

Bay lifted the cat off the tub and scratched the feline's chin. The cat's purr roared it his throat. Bay smiled and set the cat down on the toilet before turning on the shower. He needed to just stand in some warm water for a minute or sixty.

Enrique sashayed to the buffet table gracing the far end of the dining room. With the rhythm of a dance, he refilled the chafing dishes. Enrique was the daytime butler for the mansion.

He wasn't as conventional as the nighttime butler, Evans. That was clear by the bright yellow high-heels he sported as he straightened plates at the end of the buffet. He'd paired his heels with jean-shorts, a hot pink lace cocktail apron, and a white cropped t-shirts that had "struggs to func" emblazed on it in rainbow sequins.

Enrique's clothing wasn't the only thing that separated him from his old-school evening counterpart. He never called anyone "sir" . . .unless it involved handcuffs and whipped cream. He also didn't wait on people hand-and-foot and take rudeness from them. He did his job well, but kowtowing was the last thing on Enrique's mind.