Blood and Apples: An Annora Park Novel: Book One

Chapter Thirteen: Apples and Enigmas

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or thoroughly disgusted by the fact that our sicko murderer was eating his victims but turning them into apples first.  On one hand, knowing he wasn't eating their actual flesh made me feel better...on the other hand, he was still freaking eating them.  And hell, he was turning them into a fruit first.  It was all incredibly disturbing to say the very least.
   "Here darling," Walker helps me open the pill bottle and pours a few pills into my palm.
   I have a raging headache.  They only seem to be getting worse.  And I'll die before I admit it, but I'm worried.  I'm worried that I don't have much time left.
   "Amour, do not worry.  You will be fine, you will be better than fine.  You have lifetimes to spare, my beloved." Chamuel says, and instantly Walker, Garrett and I go completely still.
   "You...you were in my head again," I murmur.
   "I could not help myself, amour, you were so worried, it hurt my heart." Chamuel takes my hands in his and caresses my palms in a soothing manner.  "When the link is formalized you will have nothing to worry about, amour."
   "Link?" My head feels fuzzy.
   "She needs food and rest," Walker snaps.
"Why yes, she could use those too. But it is as I said. Once the link is set, she'll be fine." Chamuel makes a waving motion with his hand. "I doubt she'll need those things anymore. In fact, the sooner we formalize the link, the better for her."
"I...I...li...li...linkkkk...?" I begin to slur my words and hell if I don't have to call out, "So—so—someone's bet...better catching...catch meee...." Right before I drop.

    I wake up to clanging of...of...swords as they hit one another? What the hell? At least I'm not in the bedroom wearing the Morticia Addams castoff negligee. Thank goodness for small mercies. I blink, then I blink again because I'm pretty sure I have to be hallucinating. Chamuel and Walker are...they're fighting, full out fighting in the middle of the living room. Wait...they're full out fighting with freaking swords in the middle of the living room. Both men appear evenly matched as they do their very best to take each other's head off. Leaning casually against the far wall is Garrett, watching with a bemused expression on his face.
    Yes. I'm definitely hallucinating. Because there's no way in hell that two men would go at it with swords and goody two-shoes Garrett would just sit back and watch.
"What are you two morons doing?" I sit up, and push off of the couch, hoping my legs will hold me. I'm grateful when I find that I can stand steadily. I watch as both Walker and Chamuel instantly stop, swords dropping to their sides.
"Darling!" Walker says, as rivulets of sweat roll down his face.
"Amour," Chamuel smiles, unlike Walker he's not sweating, not even a little bit.
"Again, what are you two idiots doing with...with..." I wave my hand, "freaking large ass swords."
"I do have a large ass sword, don't I," Walker says suddenly, a huge smile on his face.
I roll my eyes. "Shut up, Walker."
"I thought you wanted me to tell you what we were doing?" Walker retorts.
"Chamuel can tell me. You and your sword can stay right where you are...over there...far away from me." Chamuel seems incredibly pleased, and proceeds to move towards me. When he's about a foot away I hold up my hand to stop him. "That's far enough. You can talk from there. So, yeah, I wake up to two morons going at it with really sharp looking swords. Care to tell me what that's about, angel boy?"
"Chamuel, not angel boy." Chamuel says with a moue of distaste.
"Chamuel then. Why were you and Walker fighting? Because it didn't look like you guys were just sparring."
"We could have been." Chamuel says.
"But you weren't, were you?" Chamuel shoots a look back Walker's direction and clears his throat, "...I do not believe Romanoff considered it to be sparring."
"And you?" I ask.
Chamuel shrugs, "I would have stopped shy of killing him."
I roll my eyes and shake my head. "Jesus Christ, you guys."
Chamuel shakes his his head at me. "You must stop. Jesus has nothing to do with this."
"Clearly I know that, but—"
"No, amour, it is unbecoming. We do not take the Lord's name in vain, we do not swear, and we do not call to His son without reason."
"You are not the speech police, Chamuel. I'll say what I want to."
Chamuel sighs. "I told them we left you alone without guidance for too long. But the Graces were insistent that it was not time yet."
"Listen angel—bo—Chamuel...I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I just know that if you really are here to help us and not hinder, then you need not be attacking Walker with a sword and trying to kill him. Listen, I get it, Walker can be an ass, and that's on a good day, I kinda want to kill him about two dozen times a day too, but he's also at present, necessary and yeah, tied to me. So what I'm saying is, no fucking sword fighting."
Chamuel shudders at hearing me drop the 'F' bomb, and grimaces. "If you must know, Romanoff attacked me first. I was merely defending myself."
"Uhhh-huh." I snort. "We're going with that, now are we?"
"It's kinda, uh, true, Annora. Walker did attack first," Garrett finally says from where he's still leaning casually against the wall.
"Oh and you," I point at him, "What the hell did you think you were doing just standing there smiling like an idiot."
Garrett laughs a full-bodied laugh. "Annora, exactly what would you have had me do? There's a psycho warlock, and an angel going at it with swords nearly as long as my body. Should I have gotten in between them? Let them cleave me in two? Because trust me, those are no props that they're holding, would've gone through me like a knife through softened butter."
   Okay, so, he did sort of have a point.  "Well, you didn't have to look so damn happy about the entire thing.  Hell, all you needed was a bucket of popcorn to finish the picture," I gripe.
   Garrett shrugs, "Won't lie...I found it a little amusing, okay? So sue me.  The second we got you back here and Walker deposited you on the couch, the angel began with the whole link thing and that's when your friendly neighborhood psycho lost it, conjured a sword and tried to run the angel through with it."
   I turn to Walker.  "Is that true?  Did you try to kill Chamuel?"
   Walker narrows his eyes.  "Oh, I'm allowed to speak now, am I?"
   "Ugh, Walker, grow up." I shake my head.  "Yes, speak, you idiot.  Did you, or did you not conjure up a sword and try to run Chamuel through?"
   Walker shrugs.  "Might have.  As it was, I'd forgotten how adept members of The Host are with their weapons."
   "I'm not a member of The Host.  I am their leader," Chamuel shoots back.
   "Yes, yes, yes, we know, you're the big bad head honcho," I bite out.  "Now, shush, Walker and I are speaking." I almost laugh at how shocked Chamuel looks at my words.
   "I think with a little bit more time I'd have had him," Walker continues.
   "Only in your wildest imaginings could you have ever won against me," Chamuel retorts. And I watch as Walker stalks toward him.
   "For the love of..." I throw up my hands.  "Give it a fucking rest, you guys!" My head begins to pound and I rub my temples.  "Listen we don't have time for all this machismo shit.  And...and..." I groan.  "My head feels like a herd of elephants is running through it right now.  I want food, and perhaps a brainstorming session directly after.  A session where we ALL talk about what to do next, the best steps to take to catch this crazy Shining One.  Oh, and perhaps we can throw in how you guys are going to all work together without killing one another."
   "As you wish, amour." Chamuel inclines his head.
   "Walker?" I ask softly.  I watch his jaw work back and forth and his hands clench into tight fists, but finally he nods curtly and I let out the breath I was holding.  "Good, okay, let's all catch us a killer."