Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel)

by Cynthia Brint

  “I know,” I sighed, trying to meet the thing's tiny beady eyes. “I'm sorry about, you know, screaming at you.”

  He gave an armless shrug. “As I said, a bad impression.” He quickly brightened his tone. “We never were properly introduced. I'm Junlit, Miss Blooms.”

  I smiled uncertainly. “Nice to meet you, Junlit. You can just call me Farra, Miss Blooms is way too formal for me.”

  “Farra,” he said, judging the name. I saw him move, assumed he was looking at the stove over my shoulder. “What were you doing?”

  Blinking, reminded of my task, I climbed to my feet. “I was trying to make breakfast. Do you know how this stove works?”

  “Of course,” Junlit said proudly. I leaned towards him, my excitement flaring. “Just do it like Tessa did. She always used magic, and poof! Fire.”

  I didn't hide my frown. “Right, of course. But I was hoping to use these,” I said, waving the matches.

  Junlit floated close, his knobby eye-stalks wobbling. “Hmn. That's not how she did it.”

  “It is how I'm doing it, though.” Peering at the open stove, I flicked the match to life. I hoped one would be enough, but it ended up taking five before the logs were ablaze.

  Shutting the tiny door, I watched the red heat grow through the tiny glass window. “That should get things hot,” I mused.

  “And then what?”

  Turning, I gestured at my array of ingredients on the counter. “I'll make breakfast when it's hot enough.”

  Junlit didn't sound convinced. “How will you know when that is?”

  “I—well, I guess I'll just...” Hmn, how will I know? I've never used a wood stove before.

  “You know,” the yellow creature said, “Tessa was able to cook right away. The stove was exactly hot enough every time. She always used—”

  “Magic,” I snapped, not hiding my irritation. “Yes, I know. She used magic. I'm using matches, that'll be good enough.”

  He hovered over to the counter, swirling above the eggs. “You're not able to use magic, are you?”

  Lowering my chin, I started cracking the eggs into a big bowl. It was messy, bits of shell landing inside. How do people make this look so easy? “I don't know.”

  “You don't know?” He sounded horrified. “How could you not know?”

  Chewing my lip, I wiped my sticky hands on my jeans. I need to find the towels, and a trash can. I didn't want to have this conversation with Junlit, but he didn't seem to pick up on my mood. “I just don't know. I guess I assume I can't use it, since I never have before.”

  “Then why on earth are you the one taking care of this house?” he asked, moving so close to my nose that I had to lean backwards.

  I lifted an egg between us. “Do you want breakfast or not?”

  Junlit flitted away, floating over to the bag of flour. “That depends on what you're making. I am hungry, though. Without Tessa, we've all just been scavenging from the larder.”

  “That's why it's so empty.” It wasn't a question. “Wait, Junlit... what were you all going to do if I never came here? Surely you'd have had to start cooking for yourself.”

  He managed to look baffled, a strange sight to witness. “Certainly not. I imagine we'd all have just left when it was clear things weren't improving.”

  I found a whisk in a drawer and began beating the eggs. Junlit wasn't impressed by the bits that went flying out of the bowl, I could tell. “I don't get it, that seems extreme to me. Why not just take care of this place on your own?”

  “Because we can't,” he said, curling into a partial knot. “You didn't know that?”

  I slowed the stirring to stare at him. “You can't take care of the house on your own?”

  “Nope!”

  “Impossible. I—then why would you even stay here, why live in such a place?”

  The slug-spirit swirled, snaking my way until he hung a foot from my wrinkled brow. “Because, Farra, we are safe here.”

  The fire in the stove was making the kitchen toasty. I'd wanted that earlier, but now, sweat was trickling down my neck. “Safe from what?”

  “From your world,” he said softly, “and our own.”

  I wasn't sure what to say to that. Peeking at my bowl of eggs, I started adding in the sugar. “Grault never told me what you all even are.”

  He was circling over the stove, almost riding on the heat waves. “That's rather rude. We're your tenants, you know?”

  “I meant, you're not human,” I said carefully, “so what are you exactly?”

  “You don't know that either?” His voice was tainted by disdain. “Farra, I'm wondering if you're prepared for any of this.”

  Amazingly, I laughed. “I've been wondering that, myself.”

  He stared at me, quiet as I mixed the pancake batter. Then, Junlit stopped circling. “We're revenants.”

  My expression was flat. “I don't know what that is.”

  He must have thought his explanation would amaze me. The way he sank down, almost landing on the top of the stove, it made me move to warn him. Of his own accord, he halted an inch above the searing metal. “Farra, really now! A revenant... it's—we're—like phantasms.”

  I didn't blink.

  “...Spirits?”

  That was a word I knew. “You're all ghosts!?” Pancake batter splatted as I dropped the wooden spoon into the bowl.

  Watching a slug roll his eyes was weird. “No, not exactly.”

  “Not exactly. Go on.”

  “What else is there? We're all revenants, unable to really go anywhere permanent. Well, except for here.”

  Looking down at the thick, tan sludge I'd made, I grabbed a frying pan from the wall. “Okay, what makes a dark and crumbling old house a permanent home?” I was pleased by all the information Junlit was giving me, but it also reminded me angrily of how little Grault had offered up.

  “Generally, it's because we have no where else to go,” he said, watching me while I set the pan on the hot metal.

  I dropped a slab of butter into the pan. “How could that be?”

  “What,” he balked, “you've never heard of the concept of 'homelessness' either?”

  “Of course I have,” I mumbled. “I—sorry, I wasn't trying to be insensitive.” Poking the handle of the pan, I flinched at how it stung. “You think this is hot enough?”

  Junlit drifted towards a wall, grabbing a pot holder I'd missed. “Use this, before you burn yourself.”

  I was more than happy to do so.

  “Anyway,” he sighed, moving out of the way while I hugged the giant bowl in one arm. “I'm sure you didn't mean any harm. It's just a sore spot to have no where to go, to be unsure where you'll sleep next.”

  His words cut at me with hard familiarity. “I can relate to that, yes. Before Grault showed up... there was a good chance I would lose where I was sleeping, too.” Distracted by thinking about how his hands had felt on me, I poured too much batter into the pan. Some spilled over, burning black on the iron. “Oh, shoot!” Fumbling, I put the bowl down on the counter. Smoke wafted up in thick curls. “Is that bad?”

  The slug spun in a lazy motion. “It's just smoke, isn't it?”

  “I guess.” Warily, I ignored the acrid scent, grabbing a spatula from the wall hooks. “Can't do much about it now. Should I open a window?”

  Junlit froze. “Oh, no. That would make Grault very upset.”

  Crinkling my nose, I grunted and flipped the massive pancake. More bits flew off of it, dissolving into hard lumps of charcoal on the stove. “What? Why would he care?”

  Like he'd heard us talking about him, the dark-eyed man stomped into the kitchen. His hair, short as it was, appeared messy; his expression wild with concern. “What in the hell is going on in here!?” I turned stiff under his fierce glare. “Miss Blooms! What are you doing?”

  “I—bwah—I'm just making breakfast!” Stunned, I darted a sideways look at Junlit. He was gone, vanished.

  Grault looked around, spotting the stove an
d the smoke. “You're doing what?”

  “Pancakes.”

  His eyebrows flew to his hairline. “Sorry?”

  Holding the spatula like a shield, I jerked my head at the one sizzling in the pan. I feared, even with what little I knew about cooking, that its bottom was turning black. “Pancakes,” I said again, more confident. “I was making everyone pancakes for breakfast.”

  I followed his gaze when it went to the stack of papers on the counter.

  “I discovered those this morning,” I said, finding myself calm enough to scoop the thick pancake out. Sliding it onto a big platter I'd dug out, I added more batter to replace it. “You did want me to start acting like the caretaker today, right? That's why you left those for me?”

  Grault was perplexed. When he looked at me, it was as if it took him a second to focus and truly spot me. “Yes... that's correct.” Rubbing his chin, he bent low to squint at the cherry glow of the stove's door. “I smelled smoke. I had an awful thought that somehow the place had caught fire.”

  “Nope,” I chuckled, watching bubbles form on the new pancake. I hoped that this one would be edible. “Just me. To be fair, leaving me to do all this was potentially hazardous.”

  I was hoping to make him smile. Seeing the tension drift from his shoulders was close enough. I noticed he was wearing the same coat again. It was all I'd seen him in.

  Well, that and nothing. The memory of our garden encounter made me blush.

  “Why pancakes?” he asked, standing beside me in a mere two steps.

  Staring down at the frying pan, I flipped the pancake. It looked much better than the first. “I thought I could make a lot of them easily. Your chore list there, I mean, it has specific things for each guest. That's a bit unrealistic.”

  “It's what Tessa would do.”

  “Fine,” I said, my tone hotter than the burning logs. “But I'm not Tessa. So everyone gets pancakes today.”

  I saw him spread his lips, on the verge of speaking. Then, as if my stare stopped him, he didn't finish.

  For a while, we stood in that smothering kitchen heat without a word. I had the platter stacked high when Grault finally walked towards the door. “Maybe they'll like pancakes.”

  Is he being smug, or is that a vote of confidence? I couldn't ask. He waltzed from view a moment later.

  Inhaling into my belly, I pulled the pan from the stove. Junlit emerged through the wall above the sink, making me drop the tool into the basin loudly. “Gah! Don't do that!”

  “What, why?” he asked, genuinely seeming boggled.

  My fingers dug into the sweater over my chest. “You could have given me a heart attack! Where did you go off to?”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I got a little nervous when Grault came in yelling. I don't like when people yell, remember?”

  Pushing my hair from my forehead, I puffed out a quick breath. “Yes, yes. Well, never mind. Can you do me a favor?”

  Junlit managed to look entirely uninterested. “What's that?”

  Hoisting the pancake tray, I moved to the doorway. “Could you go start letting the guests know I made breakfast? I'm not sure they're ready for me to go knocking on their doors yet.”

  “Oh, no, there's no need for that,” he said sweetly.

  “I—there's not?”

  “No no,” Junlit laughed. “They've been waiting out in the dining hall for a bit. I believe they smelled breakfast and came down with expectations.”

  Slowly, my eyes widened. “They're out there waiting for me?”

  “Mmhmm. For ten minutes now.”

  I said no more, I was already moving. With my goal to get off on the right foot, I hurried out to the dining room with the giant platter of pancakes. My mind was focused entirely on breakfast.

  It was all too easy to forget the question I'd left unanswered with Junlit that morning.

  Why would Grault have cared about the windows being open?

  Chapter Nine.

  The guests were not impressed by my pancakes. Granted, I knew they weren't the best pancakes (I'd winged the recipe entirely) but I didn't think that was reason enough to turn their noses up.

  The creatures, revenants as Junlit had called them, were sitting on both lengths of the dining room table. Such a variety of shapes, colors and sizes, it was strange to see them arranged so close.

  For every guest that stared questioningly at the meal, there was one who dared to nibble. For every one of those, there was a guest who spit it back out.

  Only Junlit, as well as the little orange revenant who I remembered was named Vibbs, were doing me the favor of digging in.

  “Excuse me, Farra,” said a creature who resembled a large, pale insect. It had four chubby arms with an abundance of fingers at the end of each. Just looking at it made me queasy. What a shame that it was one of the few with a discernible mouth that moved as it spoke.

  Controlling myself, I put on a giant smile. “Ah, yes?”

  “Could it be we might get some coffee in here? It's been ages, Tessa used to have it for us every morning.” He wobbled as he talked. I found myself praying the chair wouldn't break under him.

  “Sure, sure,” I said, waving my hands up and down. “Um, does anyone else... need anything?”

  As the cries went up, I knew I shouldn't have asked.

  Frantically, I tried to listen to them all. It was an impossible task, but still, I tried. I caught fragments of requests, things like 'cake' and 'fish' and 'marigold tea' (did such a thing exist?)

  “Oh yes, marigold tea,” many of them agreed. They really wanted me to know they craved it.

  Tugging my hair back, I spun and vanished into the kitchen. It was as good a place to escape as any, I thought. Well, except for the damn heat in here from this wood stove.

  Exploring the larder, the pantry, I knew I couldn't fulfill all the orders. By the time I'd even figured out how to work the french-press to make coffee, my jaw was aching from clenched teeth.

  Why couldn't they just like the pancakes? I thought furiously.

  While the coffee brewed, the scent burning my nose, I stared around the kitchen. It was getting late into the morning, maybe the guests would give up and go away before I came back.

  Thinking of Grault, of his lack of joy at my performance so far, I sighed. He made me want to do something very foreign to me.

  He made me want to prove him wrong.

  Leaning into the main hall, I could hear the guests mumbling to each other nearby. I knew I couldn't give them everything they'd asked for, the house was bare of inventory.

  But, if one more thing was possible, that'd make it clear I was putting in the effort.

  Wouldn't it?

  Waving my hand over my face, sweltering, I eyed the window over the sink. That was when I recalled Junlit's warning.

  So what if Grault wouldn't like it. He won't even know. I just want some air in here.

  Pushing on the glass, it took me a minute to find the crank. When I did, though, the crisp morning air was glorious. Sunlight poured into the room, turning the floors white.

  Inhaling deep, I pushed my head outside. The window faced the backyard, showing me a beautiful, if somewhat wild, green field. In the distance, I saw the sapphire glint of a big lake. Everything was cupped by large trees and the rolling hills.

  It was picturesque.

  But it was what I saw when I looked down that set my heart soaring. There, growing in a carpet left untended, were a number of flowers. Among them, the yellow, thick tops of what I was sure were marigolds.

  Laughing in surprise, I stretched out the window until my stomach hung over. I'll have to hop out to get them. So without another thought, I did. I climbed out onto the thick, damp flower bed and snatched up an armful of the plants.

  Being outside felt wonderful. Away from the smokey kitchen, the dim hallways, the complaining guests... I was tempted to run out into the field and never turn back.

  With a heaving sigh, I pushed the flowers through the window ab
ove me. It was chest height, an easy challenge to beat.

  Back in the kitchen, I regretfully closed the window. I'll ask Grault about the windows later. For now, I had a task to complete.

  I'd never made tea from anything but bags. Still, I reasoned it was just hot water.

  It took no time for the pan to boil on the stove. Rinsing the marigolds, I tore them up and dropped them in. It was only then, staring down at the flowers bobbing in the pot, that I felt truly stupid.

  This can't be how it's made.

  Steeling my nerves, I decided I was going to give it to them anyway. If it was bad, well, they could tell me how it was done.

  Tessa had numerous containers in the cupboards. I emptied the 'tea' into an actual teapot, a pretty thing all blue and white. The coffee was left in the press, I didn't want to risk getting more grinds in it by pouring it out.

  With a tray stacked in all the essentials I could think of, I held my breath and entered the dining room.

  Against all logic, the tenants were there. They looked up when I appeared, all eyes or non-eyes fixed on me.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I placed the tray in the center of the table. “Uh, there you go. Coffee and tea.”

  “No fish?” asked a wiggly purple thing.

  “No. No fish,” I sad flatly. “Just... here, just drink this for now.”

  With obvious doubt, they grabbed cups, sharing them around. Some chose the tar-black coffee, others the tea that worried me so. When the one who'd requested it (a blueish, humanoid-thing with hints of a female shape) tipped the pot, I saw a large chunk of flower enter her cup.

  My heart jumped into my throat.

  Amazingly, she drank it down without question. They all did, seeming just as shocked as I at their reactions. “Oh,” she said softly, turning her strange white eyes to me. “It's good!”

  I didn't believe it until the others were nodding. Some happily, others begrudgingly. “Different,” the pale-insect said, “but yes, good.”

  “Very fresh!”

  “Sort of grassy.”

  The flurry of comments was confusing, but I was sure of one thing. They really do like it. It's flowers boiled in water, from a weed filled bed, and they like it. Maybe I'd been over-thinking things.