Radley's Home for Horny Monsters, Annabelle Hawthorne [howl and other poems TXT] 📗

changed the password to a string of random words, saved all changes, then logged out. Frustrated, he put his desktop back in sleep mode, severing the connection. “Why don’t you head for bed? I’ll meet you upstairs in a bit.”

Tink nodded, pushing her goggles up. They had left circular marks around her eyes. He kissed the top of her head, then she departed, her tail swishing from side to side.

He stopped out in the garden, where Abella swooped down from above to meet him. “Thanks for your help today,” he said, giving her a hug.

“You’re welcome,” Abella replied, her breath tickling his ear. “Did you learn anything about the Society?”

“No, I didn’t,” Mike said, and turned to look for Naia. She was floating in the fountain again, her bubble lights casting their shadows. “See you in the morning, Naia.”

“Goodnight, lover,” Naia said, rolling on her side and winking at him.

He walked inside, stopping in the front entryway to stare at the empty spot where the clock had been. That was going to be a puzzle for some other time, he thought to himself, before stepping onto the porch.

Cecilia was on the swing, her legs tucked up beneath her. Her head turned, empty white eyes appraising Mike where he stood. She patted the seat next to her, her spooky hair drifting as if she sat in a vortex of wind.

Mike walked over and took the seat next to her. “Thanks for all your help tonight. If not for you, I may have died.”

Cecilia smiled. “That would be one way for us to spend some alone time together.”

“I’m not ready for that kind of commitment,” Mike replied.

Cecilia grinned, her eyes crinkling along the edges. “You are so different from those who came before,” she said. “With the others, it was different. They were here, but largely distant. Emily spent time with me, but I could feel it, that tension in the way she spoke, how she sat next to me like I had a disease she might catch. It’s hard sitting with death, contemplating its infinite nature, wondering when it will come for you in your sleep. My kind were never well loved, but we were respected.” She leaned her head on Mike’s shoulder, and his skin tingled at the chill in her touch. “I suffer from a special kind of loneliness. I wasn’t ready to walk you to your final resting place just yet.”

Mike shrugged. “Is it weird that I was more worried about what was going to happen to the others? I mean, I wasn’t keen on dying in a fire, but I kept thinking about what would happen to Naia, Abella, and especially Tink.”

“Did you worry about me?” Cecilia asked. The Irish lilt in her voice was suddenly softer.

“Should I? I mean, I don’t know enough about banshees to even guess at what could possibly happen to you. I imagine that whoever took this house, you would sit out here on your swing, content to watch the sun set.”

“A week ago, it wouldn’t have even mattered. Ever since I came here, I sat on this porch, watching the house and waiting to take its owner to the afterlife. I haven’t expected any more, or any less, but it beats the alternative of wandering the countryside, lost and alone, wailing out of self-pity. Still, even though I was mean to you, you made the effort. Emily would have done the same, but it was nearly a decade before she could even look me in the face, or be comfortable around me, for that matter.” Cecilia shifted, her hair tickling Mike’s nose. “Yet here you sit. You treat me like a person, not a lost soul. You touch me without flinching away-even now, I can feel the warmth of your body against mine. That is something nobody has ever done for me.”

“Part of that is Naia,” Mike explained. “She did this thing where she took a piece of my soul and gave me a piece of hers. It was to bind me to the house, make me feel obligated to help. I don’t want to take credit for something she did.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” Cecilia said, running her fingers across the top of his. “Everyone who has lived here has been given the nymph’s gift, but you are different than they were. There’s a part of you that has been broken, damaged in such a way that you don’t fit in anywhere else. You’re a mismatched puzzle piece-someone put you in the box, but you make a crooked fit.” She waved her hand at the house. “This place is a crooked puzzle piece in the fabric of the universe. Even if a piece is found that fits here, the edges will never line up quite right.

“Your edges are crooked. I imagine it’s what Naia saw in you. You don’t fit in with the rest of the universe like you do here. You’ve already seen things that most men never will, experienced sensations beyond what any human should. Naia’s magic may have snared you, but the person you are is what makes you special.”

Mike shrugged, unsure what to say. “I’m just trying to do right by the monsters here. Now that I know that there are people out there who want this place, people willing to sic a fire lizard on me, I feel more determined than ever to make it work.”

Cecilia snuggled closer. His chest itched as she drew away his body heat. He wasn’t cold-his whole body tingled like he was building up a massive charge. He could smell her perfume, a soft floral scent with a hint of cinnamon.

“Mike?” Cecilia said softly.

“What’s up?”

Cecilia moved away from him, sitting so that he could see her better. Up close, her sightless eyes were like pearls, fixing him with an intensity that rooted him on the spot. Her hair fanned out around her, floating ethereally around her head. “I think... maybe you should be worried about me.”

She floated above the seat