“Why are you getting up?” I ask as I make my way to my closet. “Go back to sleep. You look like you need it.”
“You have no idea. One of the wolves had a party last night, and it got a little out of control.” She waves a hand up and down in front of her face. “Hence the old-hag look.”
“That’s not quite how I would describe it, but okay.” I grin at her. “So that begs the question, why are you getting up when you have all day to recuperate?”
“Because I’m going with you, silly.”
“What? No, you don’t have to do that. We’re just going to sit around and read dusty books all day.”
“I can sit around with the best of them.” Macy pushes to her feet and stumbles her way over to the bathroom. “Besides, I’m really good at research. Like, wicked good, even without the spells. So I’ll help you until I have to meet Gwen at two.”
“There’s a spell to help you research?” I ask, fascinated at the idea.
She rolls her eyes—or at least, I think she does. The insanely heavy, smeared eye makeup makes it impossible to tell. “There’s a spell for everything if you look hard enough.”
“Everything?” I ask, but she’s already shut the bathroom door behind her. Seconds later, I hear the shower go on.
“Everything,” Hudson answers. “Witches are nothing if not practical creatures. Why do something the hard way if you can hack it?”
He’s sitting on the floor near the door, knees up and arms draped over them. For the first time since he showed up in my head, he’s dressed in a pair of faded jeans. They’re ripped at the knees, frayed around the bottom, and somehow manage to look amazing on him. As does the white T-shirt he’s wearing.
“What about vampires?” I ask, because I’m curious. And because I’m anxious to distract myself from the fact that Hudson looks good—and that I’ve noticed that fact. “Are they practical, too?”
He snorts. “Only when it comes to who they’re going to eat.”
“That’s awful!” I tell him, but I’m laughing just a little.
“Yeah, well, awful and true usually go hand in hand.” He runs his palms over his knees in a gesture that looks an awful lot like nerves. “Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
That he believes this says a lot about Hudson. But he’s not usually so brutal, and I can’t help wondering what happened in the middle of the night that turned him so massively bitter. I think about asking him, but things are relatively peaceful right now, and I’d rather try to keep it that way. Especially since I’m meeting up with Jaxon in less than an hour.
“I’m going to change, okay?” I tell Hudson as I cross to my closet to pick something to wear.
He waves a hand in that negligent “do what you want” way that he has, but he also tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I start to browse through my clothes.
He doesn’t answer.
I move to pull out one of the outfits Macy got me when I first moved here, but in the end I settle on a turquoise tank top and black yoga pants from my old life. Because I now live in a sometimes-drafty old castle in Alaska and I don’t want to spend the next ten hours of my life freezing, I layer my favorite cardigan over the tank top. As its worn softness settles around me, I feel more like myself than I have since I turned back from being stone.
It’s a good feeling.
“I’m done,” I tell Hudson softly, and he nods, but he doesn’t open his eyes.
And as I stand here with this unique, unprecedented chance to study him uninterrupted—usually he’s wide awake and trading barbs with me every time I so much as get a glimpse of him—I can’t help but realize how tired he looks.
I get it. I’ve had two solid nights of sleep and I still feel like I’ve been run over by a semi. But his tiredness looks edgier, harder, more soul deep, and I wonder what’s going on in his head. I wonder what he’s feeling, if anything.
Four days ago, it would have been impossible for me to imagine that I would worry about Hudson, even for a second. I still can’t believe it now. Not after everything he’s done, to Jaxon and to everyone else here at Katmere. Not after everything he wanted to do to the world.
I wonder if this is what Stockholm Syndrome feels like? Despite everything your captor has done, all the horrible things they are, you start to identify with them anyway? God, I really hope that’s not the case.