The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Breaking Out

"Ready?" Packer's voice would have startled Mabel had she not been feeling so relaxed. Whatever was in that paste was excellent, because she felt well-rested and calm, and there was no sign of that stupid cold.

To convey this, she sent him a cheery smile and a thumbs-up.

"Good. Come with me; we have to get out of this room." He snatched up her hand with one of his own, waving the other over the door handle and pushing it open without difficulty.

"Huh. I wish I could do that," Mabel mumbled, leaning so far to the side she would have fallen if not for Packer's pull on her hand.

"Head up, Mabel. Can't go to sleep yet."

"God, you're so bossy," Mabel whined as Packer turned her down another hall, pulling her into the darkness of a tiny room.

"And you're obviously enjoying that little creation of mine. Let's go, Mabel." He plucked up both her hands this time, standing directly opposite her and closing his eyes. The same language from earlier came from Packer's mouth, and together they faded away.

***

"Here we are," Packer announced once they had materialized in a completely different location. "We will stay the night here, since the warlocks will be monitoring all use of magic carefully. Here, Mabel," he reached into a leather knapsack that Mabel hadn't noticed before and pulled out a large green blanket.

Mabel grinned brightly at the sight, snatching the fabric up gleefully. She rolled it around her body quickly, a slow, relaxed exhaled sliding from her lips as the warmth encased her. "This is nice," she told him conversationally. "Thanks very much, Packer."

He didn't say anything in reply, instead continuing to rifle through the sack.

The silence bothered Mabel, and she began to tap her fingers along her thighs, matching her feet to the same imaginary tune when she decided it was catchy.

Packer heaved a drawn-out sigh, setting down the sack and turning to her. "What is it?"

All tapping ceased, and they stared at each other for a long minute. "Well," Mabel broached slowly, "I'm wondering why you're helping me."

Packer shook his head with a derisive snort. "I don't want your Aleron to kill me. I'm not stupid; I know he'll win this battle."

A plausible reason, but not a genuine one, Mabel knew. Feeling especially brave with the help of Packer's nasty paste, she leaned forward curiously. "That's a lie. Why are you doing this, really?"

Packer faltered, his expressionless mask slipping just long enough for Mabel to catch the broken, utterly heart-wrenching hopelessness in his eyes.

The conclusion hit her with the force of a car.

"Oh, my God," she breathed in astonishment, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. "You loved a human, didn't you? You loved a human, and they killed her?"

Her mind brought back the words that had been spoken earlier by the warlocks: "The last one did not . . . we cannot risk another failure."

"They killed her, right? They killed her, and it didn't work, so they came after me, but you felt guilty. Oh, Packer, I'm so sorry." She reached forward to comfort him, but he stood abruptly.

"Go to sleep, Mabel," his voice was so empty that it made Mabel want to cry on his behalf. "We will leave in the morning."

Those words alone spoke volumes:

Yes. They killed her before I could save her, and yes, I am trying to save you now to make up for my own failure.

A few tears slipped down Mabel's cheeks as she tried to fall asleep, but she knew it was nothing compared to the pain Packer still felt.