Prey and Mercy

XIV. The Stars are Watching

She's furious.

Once more I've screwed up.

A soft blanket of heat settles across the room and yet still Idris refuses to speak to me. He looks more confused than anything, staring at me as though I'd confessed to walking on water.

It's Milena I'm afraid to look at.

"Say something," my breath comes hurried having been lodged in my throat for some time.

Idris, angled toward Milena like she's the only other sane person in the room, shrugs his one good shoulder; the other is bandaged beneath his grey hoodie that I bought him for his sixteenth birthday two years ago. At last he just shakes his head and walks away, into the kitchen where he thinks I can't see his sheltered annoyance.

Back pressed against our front door, Milena glares heatedly. "You invited the ice queen to our sleepover..." she says slowly. "Are you mental? Seriously, Reyner, tell me. Is there something wrong with you? Something I can't see in your screwed up little head?" 

From across the house Idris chides, "Lighten up on her, Miles. That's too far." 

He's right. She's only making me angry, making everything I thought was wrong worse. 

Milena scratches her head and steps away from the door like she doesn't know what to do with herself or how to reign it all in. "I refuse to let you invite in the girl that made you cry yourself to sleep all through school. Who dated Wylder. Who almost chased you down until you and Idris froze to death. I don't know if you remember, but I was the one who saved you from her. Me. Me, Mercy. And most of all...don't you dare forget Davina." 

"I know." It's all I can say. I'm aware. Wildly aware. But it had to be done. 

I don't...I don't hate her like I used to, like Prey thinks. All that bitter animosity is faded and gone. If anything all I hold is a dismal grief that's, frankly, containable. Azreal told me to look after her. I can do that. 

And it's not just for that reason. There's something off about her. Her ice. Her smile. Her goddess. I want to figure it out, I'm willing. 

"She'll be here in a few minutes," I say. "So you might as well help tell Idris what kind of pizza you want before her orders the wrong one." 

Milena scowls at me, her lips pulling back to reveal her perfect white teeth. "And what if I no longer what to stay?" 

I would laugh but then I'm afraid she'd burn me. "You will." 

She does. 

The rest of the evening she barely talks to me. Idris takes turns staring us down with looks we refuse to acknowledge until even standing around my dining room becomes awkward. We're supposed to picking a movie to watch, five copies of pretty much the same romcom spread out across the chestnut table. 

I turn over a film romance film about vampires, that doesn't quite fit the criteria, in my hand and cock an eyebrow at Milena because I know without a doubt she was the one that snuck it in. With a stubborn skyward glance she snatches it from my fingers, grumbling profanities on her way to the living room. 

"We're watching this." She states simply. 

It's not an apology, we both know that. But it says a lot. On a bad day she could have just as easily burned down my entire kitchen or maybe my hand. Instead we're watching a movie together and that counts for something, abusive relationship aside. 

A creak runs through the staircase as Idris is trying--and failing-- to show me how to fry popcorn on a pan. He desperately shoves oven mitts onto my fingers saying something about how with my luck I'll end up burning myself before Miles get's the chance to. But I'm not paying attention. With my sister and Jude in hand, Freya descends onto the first landing looking as dolled and elegant as I've ever seen her for a weekend in the realm.