Mystery Noir

Little Monsters Part 9

I woke up in my room, which was filled with the soft but cold light of morning. Sleep clogged my brain, dreams of tunnels and fantastical parties filled with a cast of half-animal humans, mythical beings, and mountains of food that I couldn't get enough of. There was a joyous party-like feeling to the entire dream, though I had spent most of it chasing after the sounds of two indistinct voices. I had a sense that they were beside me, but hidden behind some sort of veil, their laughter bubbling in my ears and making me laugh, even as I felt a sharp pull of distress over not finding them.

The moment my eyes opened, the memories of the dreams faded, until all they left me with was a soul-deep pain of missing someone, or an insatiable hunger. I struggled to cling to my dreams, with my waking mind telling me that there was something important in it even as I forgot everything but the general hum of the crowd and the lively music that had been playing somewhere in the background.

When I climbed out of bed, the floor was surprisingly warm, meaning that the main part of the cabin was still warm. I was also still wearing my clothes and made a face as I grabbed a change of clothing and stepped out of my room as quietly as possible. Not that I needed to worry about waking anyone up, as Enzo was standing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious.

The fire place was still burning merrily, though there was a significantly larger pile of wood in the woodbox than I remembered being there the night before.

"I'm grabbing a shower, unless you had one recently." I muttered when Enzo turned to look at me.

"A couple hours ago. Breakfast should be ready by the time you're done. I'll put on the coffee." Enzo grinned and turned back to the stove, flipping over a pancake with a skilled flick of his wrist.

I wanted to scowl at him, if only because of how productive he had been, but the food smelled amazing and it was mainly my guilt for having been asleep for so long that was grumpy with him. I had planned to get a lot more done, in terms of figuring out how to get to Penny, by now though I felt incredibly rested. I had not realized how exhausted I had been, though the energy I felt in my body after a good night's rest reminded me just how drained yesterday had left me.

The breakfast Enzo had prepared was massive, as if he had known exactly how hungry I would be, and though he mainly stuck to meat, I found the pancakes and syrup, and the fruit, to hit the spot. My body was craving carbs, though I helped myself to an ample supply of bacon and eggs as well. Conversation was light small talk that mainly informed me that when I had passed out on Enzo's shoulder the night before, he had carried me up to my room and then slept on the couch. I felt bad, but I also understood. He would not have wanted to sleep in Penny's bed, and it would have been a huge assumption that I would not have appreciated if I had woken up next to him.

When I was stuffed to the point of almost being uncomfortable, I helped clean up before sitting down on the couch and opening the box of my mother's things rifling through her favourite tapes and a couple books, Chopin's The Awakening and Shelley's The Last Man. I frowned and flipped through the books, not seeing anything of note within the pages, even as Enzo sat down beside me and picked up the burnt pages of my mother's letter.

"How about you draw out what you remember from the gate and symbols, and I'll do some research and try to figure them out that way." Enzo offered gently when I sighed while putting the books to the side.

"Right. You can help me." I flushed, having fallen so easily into the habit of not asking for help.

Taking a notepad, I sketched the design as I remembered it, of the gate in the centre of the first piece of paper, then I sketched the other symbols down another couple of pages. It wasn't perfect, and I knew that because of that fact, his ability to actually find anything useful would be impaired.