Moments; singular, siphoned, like grains of sand which fall restlessly, and build without limits...growing with increasing momentum, each step, beat, a steady staccato , marking down the minutes until the cold inevitability of the ...end ...death.
M...
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Why I'd thought Walker's house would've magically turned from the freakish Adams Family Mansion into a somewhat normal domicile is beyond me. Yup. It was still the haunted house from hell. The ghosts roaming around didn't help matters any, either. He wasn't kidding when he'd said the dead were a curious bunch. And being a Treader only made the situation a million times worse because I could feel every single one of those ghastly ghosts milling about. Some were harmless, curious, but harmless...other's not so much. Some of the dead, well they really hated being dead, and they had a tendency to take their aggression and anger out on me. It's one of the main reasons I'd learned to shield so well. I couldn't have every dead person in the city accosting me every second of every day. How the hell would I get any work done. Not to mention I'm a bitch on the best of days, having ghosts haunt me, well, that would take my bitchiness to an entirely new level. "Coffee, tea, cake?" Walker finally says, with a wide smile on his face. Now that I know his mom made the cake I nod. "Okay, sure, I'll take a piece of cake, and a cup of coffee if you have it." "Wouldn't have offered it I didn't, my dear." "Hey, what kind of cake is it?" Not that it really mattered. I'm pretty much obsessed with cake, all sorts of cake. "Triple chocolate delight." Oh my god. Heaven has a name, and it's called "Triple Chocolate Delight." "I take it you approve." Walker laughs. "Are you kidding me. If that cake is as good as it sounds, I'll run over to your mom's place right now and marry her." Walker busts out laughing. "Well, that wouldn't do at all, darling. I mean, first of all, you're not a lesbian...not that I'm aware of, of course not that there's anything wrong with being a lesbian, however, it would definitely put a crink in my plans for us. Oh and secondly, you can't possibly marry my mother, since you'll be marrying me, dearheart." "Walker, you're delusional, you realize that, right? There's no way in hell that we're ever getting married. I can barely stand to be in your presence for more than ten minutes, hell, that may be pushing it. God...marriage? I'd kill you before we reached the altar, and if I didn't, I most certainly would take you out on our wedding night. So yeah...no marriage, you lunatic." "Oh darling, you say that now...just give it some time, you'll see, you'll come around." God, he was totally certifiable. "Walker, just give me that damn cake and coffee, like you promised." "I'm hurt, you only want me for my food, darling." I raise an eyebrow. "You know it. Heck you said it yourself. You promised to feed me. So, come on, feed me. I'm starving, and God knows my body needs it." "Of course, of course, how remiss of me." Walker strides quickly away leaving me standing alone in his parlor of terror. And it really is a parlor of particular curiosity and horrors. On the mantle of the fireplace, prominently displayed are a row of skulls. God I don't even want to know where he got those from. His black walls display paintings all of them more gruesome than the next. His bookshelves house dozens of books on the human anatomy, physiology, and yes, even a few books on serial killers—oh fuck me. No. Nope. Walker was not a serial killer. I'd known the guy for over a decade now, and I knew his family. Crazy as he may be, a serial killer he was not. Now...assassin...that was still on the table. I had my thoughts on the jobs that Walker moonlighted on, and they all included at the end of the day, someone, or something dying a rather gruesome death. I look around for the least offensive looking piece of furniture I can find and finally settle on an overstuffed chair—black upholstery of course—but it looks comfortable and well, the least threatening of anything else in this train-wreck of a room. I plop down into the chair and instantly sigh as I sink into the deep, softness of the wonder which is this chair. Okay, so it looks like something that ought to be in a morgue, but whatever, it feels like freaking heaven. "I see you found one of my favorite chairs, dearheart." "Walker, I take it back. I'm not marrying your mother. I'm marrying this chair. Give me a second, the chair and I are having a moment here." I close my eyes and sink even further into the softness. Seriously, this has to be the most amazing chair ever freaking made. My eyes pop open when I hear Walker bust out laughing. "Darling, feel free to come here whenever you like and molest my chair." Oh and now he was baiting me with the chair from heaven. I shake my head and then my eyes light up when I see what he's holding in his hands, "Gimme, gimme..." I hold out my hands and ignore his chuckles as he places the plate into my waiting hands. I immediately dig my fork in the three layered confection and let out a moan of pure unadulterated bliss. "OH MY GOD. Oh my freaking God." I moan again. I blink when I see Walker staring at me with the weirdest expression on his face. "Uhhhh what? Do I have cake on my face." "No darling...not at all. You just go ahead and keep eating that cake...and making those delicious noises." I feel heat crawl up my neck and flood my face. How embarrassing. Oh well. The cake was just too good NOT to enjoy. And if moaning came along with it, well then, moan I would. I make quick work of the cake—and yes I moan a lot more—but I do my best to ignore Walker and his laser like staring. "And coffee?" I ask eagerly. Walker laughs. He leaves and returns in a minute bearing a huge steaming mug of what has to be the best smelling coffee I've ever smelled in my life. This isn't dirty water downed station coffee, this smells like liquid gold. Walker hands me the mug and I take a small sip and my eyes nearly roll back in my head. Yup. Liquid gold. "Walker, this is like...holy hell..." Walker grins, "I know...best coffee ever, right?" I nod, "Where in the world do your procure coffee like this?" Walker smirks. "Mother makes it." Oh Jesus. Am I drinking magical coffee? Walker sees the horrified look that must be permeating my face because he only laughs harder. Yeah, yeah, asshole, laugh it up. "Walker..." "I know what you're going to say darling, and be a good dear and finish your amazing coffee. I promise you that mother doesn't put anything harmful into it." "Walker, 'anything harmful,' doesn't really put my mind at ease about drinking Leanore's magic cup of java." "Oh for witches sake, Annora, drink the damn coffee. It's literally Colombian roast with mother's own Helixer powder mixed in." Whoa, I'm managed to piss Walker off. Not that I would usually give a flying monkey's butt about pissing him, or actually anyone off. But when in a house of horrors drinking magical coffee and eating cake from a unclaimed Warlock and loose Treader, one should probably try not to anger said Warlock in his own home. I sip the coffee and make an exaggerated sound of pleasure. "There...happy you psycho. I'm drinking the damn hexed up coffee." Shut up Annora. This is the moment where you stop the verbal diarrhea you're so prone to having. Walker's face morphs from his previous expression of pinched anger to jolly and jovial so suddenly it almost gives me whiplash. "Ecstatic, enraptured, elated, euphoric, darling. Yes...just yes." "Ecstatic, elated, euphoric...that's a lot of 'E's there, Walker." "You forgot enraptured darling." "Oh," I roll my eyes, "Of course, how could I possibly forget enraptured." I'm drinking the coffee quicker now. It really IS ridiculously, stupidly delicious. I'm on the last sip when Walker drops the bomb. "So how the child take it when you told him you'd be spending the night, my dear." "God, Walker, you really know how to kill a mood don't you." Walker looks surprised. "No, not killing anything darling, in fact, just improving it. Need to get all the trash out of the way before we start, you know." Whatever he thought was starting, well...he was in for a nasty little surprise because I sure as heck didn't plan on making this pleasant for him, not if he was going to continue to call out my friend (okay annoying friend, but friend still) and partner. "First off, Garrett is a man, not a boy, kid or child, as you keep referring to him—" "—No, darling, I'm a man, your Captain's a man, hell, the guy that picks up my trash on Tuesday is a man...Garrett—" and he practically spits out his name, "—is definitely not a man, hence my names for him. I mean, really...really dearheart...just how hard up were you for some? Because you know," And a sly little smile forms on his beautiful lips, "...I would've happily provided anything you needed...anything...and everything." Oh. My. God. When had this conversation gotten away from me. Oh yeah, we're talking about Walker here, his conversations are trainwrecks from the beginning. I suck in a breath and spit out, "Vodka neat, now." Hell, vodka alone might not be enough, "...wait...don't forget the Tequila shots too."
