Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Again, glad I’m not a murderer.
I’ve come with a plan, though. I know she’s got a carinoux guarding her, and so in addition to the food order I picked up, I also bought a huge haunch of fresh meat. I’m hoping that buys me enough time to befriend him, or I’m going to regret today immensely.
Letting myself in as quietly as possible, I step inside and wrinkle my nose at the stale sweat smell hanging in the air. The window in the room is closed, the lights off, and everything in the small apartment is a mess, clothing strewn on the floor and dishes piled on the counter. Not a surprise, given that she’s sick. There are two huge racks in the living room, one with empty pans for resting cooling pastries, and another full of pots and pans used for her business.
The carinoux pads out of the bedroom and immediately begins snarling at me. He remains in the bedroom doorway, his loyalty to his mistress obvious.
“I know,” I say in a calm voice. I’m determined not to show fear, because I’m not doing anything wrong. “I’m going to help your mistress. We’re going to make a nice soup to help her feel better and I’m going to bake for her and feed you. Would you like that, friend?”
The cat-lizard continues to snarl, but he doesn’t move any closer. Guarding his person is apparently the priority. Okay, I can work around that.
I squeeze into the crowded little kitchen and find her teapot, flicking it on to warm after adding water. I glance over the counter at the open door to the bedroom. Inside, I can see Simone, who’s a huddled lump under her blankets. She hasn’t even stirred at the noise I’m making, and I feel another twinge of pity for her. The tea—a light herbal blend—perfumes the air and I add a dollop of honey to make it soothing for her throat.
First, though, I’ve got to feed the carinoux so he doesn’t eat my throat.
“Are you hungry, friend?” I keep my voice sweet as I pull out the haunch of meat and start cutting it into cubes. I don’t know if he eats it raw or cooked, so I decide to cook it. I heat a pan and sear the meat, and I have to admit it smells pretty damned good. I glance over at the carinoux, and he’s licking his chops, his gaze on me. Poor baby is probably scared his human is sick, and he’s hungry, to boot.
I fill a bowl with the seared steak cubes and set it on the floor.
He just stares at it, not moving from his spot. He licks his chops again.
“I can bring it to you.” I pick up the bowl and take a few careful, slow steps toward the bedroom and then slide it toward him. He immediately starts to wolf down the food, ravenous, and I feel bad for the little guy. He’s small for a carinoux, only about the size of a small pony instead of a large one.
“Now, tea for your mom,” I say, keeping my tone sweet. I pick up the mug and move toward the bedroom, but the creature makes it obvious that I am not going to get past him. He loses interest in his bowl and begins to growl again.
New tactic, then.
I remain where I am, holding the tea. “Hey, Simone. Wake up. I made you tea.”
She comes to slowly, as I knew she would, and squints up at me from the bed. Her face looks even more hollow than yesterday, her hair a stringy mess. Her pajamas are soaked with sweat again. “What…”
Simone starts coughing again, the sound deep and painful.
“I made you tea and I fed your pet. Can you tell him I’m okay so I can give this to you before it gets cold?”
She eyes me for a moment, then pats the bed. “C’mere, Pluto.”
I cautiously move forward as the carinoux goes to her side. He watches me warily as I approach, so I offer my hand for him to sniff and wait for his reaction. When there is none, I reach out and hesitantly scratch his chin. “I’m a friend, Pluto. I just want to help your mom.”
He licks my fingers, then looks at Simone.
“Good boy,” she tells him. “I don’t know why she’s here either, but it’s okay.”
It’s a start, at least. “You can be mad at me later, but I’m here to take care of you. Come on. Sit up and drink this. It’ll make your throat feel better.”
She struggles to sit up, weak, and I put my arm around her back to help. Pluto watches us for a moment longer, then returns to his food, as if he’s decided I’m all right now. I bunch pillows up behind Simone and then add some folded towels when there aren’t enough pillows to sufficiently prop her up. She holds the cup in her hands, her eyes heavy, and takes a sip. Then another.