Wake Up, Witch

Chapter 15

Evensen appeared before me before I even took a step. His dark eyes frantic, he scoured me from head to foot. A few times to make sure I was there, alive. His jaw was tight, mouth drawn in a line.

Why did he act like that? Like he actually cared if I was dead. Like he was only here because I was. Because he had to.

And then, just like before, he blinked and turned away, harshly saying, "If you're not dying, please refrain from summoning me in the middle of the day. I'm late for a meeting."

"The HSA went to see me today."

He went still, turned to face me. "Don't worry about them."

"They're going to question Katz. If we both don't give the same story, we'll be in trouble."

He looked unperturbed. What he was, on the other hand, was irritated. "Katz will do just fine."

"Did you hear what I just said? I told the HSA a different story. They're going to question—"

"And Katz will deal with them," he snapped. "That's what I pay him to do."

I scowled. One moment, he was concerned, the next he was eager to get away like I was some kind of nuisance he would rather not deal with. "You're bristling."

His mouth formed a firm line. "Is that all?" he asked instead. "Because I really need to wake up. I left my body in the middle of my bath."

"If you hate being here that much, Evensen, just give me the answers now so I could do this on my own. Forget about the plan you claim I had with you. I don't remember it and it is obviously an inconvenience to you."

A kind of anger that went beyond hatred toward a nemesis flashed in his eyes. I wanted to understand so badly why he was helping me. Why he was here in the first place. Why him? Why the concern and the anger?

He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I've been..." He paused, let out another breath. "I've been busy." When I simply stared, he tried to smile. Sardonic, of course. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"I need answers."

He nodded. "We usually meet at six in the evening—"

"Now," I firmly interjected, walking past him to the window, to the fire below. "First, I want to know why I'm sharing this dream with you."

"Apparently, you have this habit of finding me when you're on the brink of death."

I made a sharp turn to face him again with a scowl. "When did I start coming into your dreams?"

"You mean haunting me," he corrected, scarred mouth curled into a familiar provocation. "After the fire."

"Why would I do that?"

He shrugged. "We never really found out why."

"We?"

Nodding, he approached me again, this time with easy steps. "You and I." His eyes held mine, his smile no longer tight. Gentle, in fact.

Almost longing.

He forced out another sigh. "I guess we're doing this now. Are you in a safe place?"

"I can stay here for hours."

The corner of his lips quirked. "I guess I can spare a while." He motioned to the fireplace across the room. As I settled in the winged chair, he dragged one from the dresser. I crossed my arms. He crossed his legs. My eyes bore into his, while his dark gaze glimmered with amusement and something weird. Almost like a secret I almost didn't want to know. He broke the silence. "We never found out why or how you did it. But we had theories."