It was déjà vu.
Waking up in his bed and clothes again--a big button-up shirt and black briefs. Only this time, she'd been fully aware of how she arrived here.
She glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table, it read 9:45 am, and the house was quiet. It was as quiet as the first day she woke up in here. Waking up to find herself back then, in his bed and clothes, had been embarrassing enough without having to look him in the eye. But not this time. This time was different.
She got out of bed slowly, careful not to intensify the dull pain in her abdomen by making any hurried movement. She made her way to the living room searching for him, but was met with his absence, so moved to the fridge in the kitchen. Her throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper, and her head was heavy.
His refrigerator was stocked with fruity drinks, fruits, eggs, leftovers, yogurt, and alcohol. It was obvious that he did more of home-cooked meals than takeouts--very traditional. She took out a bottle of water and drank it in half before setting it on the counter. It was then she noticed the little note he'd left her.
HAD TO RETRIEVE SOME PAPERWORK FROM THE PRECINCT. CHECK OVEN FOR BREAKFAST. BE RIGHT BACK.
~Albert.
Memories from the previous night came rushing in, and anger surged through her bones. Had it not been for the treatment she'd received from the Fifth Emril--a renowned healer among the werewolf community--she may never have been back on her feet after such a serious attack.
"Aside from the silver infection, the dagger was poisoned." he'd said. "Had your Agent friend been a minute late, it may have been impossible to administer the cure as quickly as we did. The effect is long-term paralysis."
Albert had saved her life, and she was grateful. She remembered the vision she'd seen of him and swore to return the favor. She'll nurse Layla--who aside from stewing in anger from yesterday's attack was doing much better--back to her full capacity, and together they'll protect him.
Then she remembered her grandfather and gasped. Her chest got heavy and there was a throb at the back of her head. She hurried back to the room, changed into another one of his clothes, and left the house immediately.
¶
2 hours later.
The knock on the door announced her visitor even before she approached to get it. Albert had a way of knocking, she'd noticed. It wasn't the normal way visitors knocked. It was hard, repetitive, and commanding. Like a maniac.
She pulled it open, lips pursed as she eyed him. He looked better than he was last night. Strong jaw, patrician nose, bright smile, and sweep of wavy, deep brown hair that's longer on top.
"You're alive," he stated casually.
She rolled her eyes. "You really need to cultivate a habit of knocking properly. What if my grandpa was fast asleep?"
"I left him back at the precinct. I think he has an appointment with the chief."
He stepped in, and she caught a whiff of something delicious: an enticingly light scent of cedar, leather, and something crisp—citrusy, even.
"Hmm," she shut the door and gestured him in. "Have a seat."
"You left without eating breakfast."
"Oh," she sighed. "I needed to catch up with my grandpa before he left the house this morning. He has been a difficult man to see lately--always very busy with the chief."
"Were you able to?"
"See him? Yeah. We had a moment to ourselves."
"Good." he took a seat and eyed her carefully as she followed suit. Although her movements were slow and not completely without pain, he just found it difficult to believe she could be up, and about barely twenty-four hours after she'd almost bled out on his back seat.
"Who was the man from yesterday?" he asked. "You look almost better, still a bit pale, but he surely worked wonders on you."
"Yes." she flashed him a tight-lipped smile. "Dr. Schwartz is a local healer here in town, although known to few people. His medicine works better than whatever you'll find at the GC Hospital."
"I see." Albert's expression was unreadable. "How serious were your wounds, though? All I could remember was all the blood you were losing."
Her lips twitch. "Yeah. It was just a scratch, nothing serious. My clotting time is messed up, though, so I bleed a lot."
"I see. Have you had anything to eat?" he asked suddenly, taking her by surprise
"No," she chuckles. "But I was about making eggs when you arrived."
"You should rest." He glanced at his watch. "I have an hour to spare, I'll make you something to eat."
"Err, are you sure?" she got on her feet after him. "I'm convinced I can handle making simple eggs."
"No. You should rest. where is the kitchen?"
"Down the hall by your right." she directed him with a smile.
'He seems nice.' Layla pipes up in her head. 'Good for you, you got us a chef.'
Kyla rolled her eyes. 'How are your wounds?'
'Pft! Don't remind me of that basic demon bitch.'
'We'll get her. All of them, don't worry about it.' she replied.
'I'm not worried. I'm just eager to tear her to shreds.'
¶
Albert returned, twenty minutes later, with cups and a pot of coffee, which he sets on the dining table.
"Hey, it smells so good. The coffee, food cooking in the kitchen, need any help?" she asked again.
"No," he replied. She stopped midrise and sank back down.
He disappears again after dropping off the coffee service, returns with plates piled high with sunshiny yellow eggs, fluffy flapjacks, fresh red strawberries, and crispy bacon. Her stomach rumbles in anticipation as he puts the plate in front of her.
"Breakfast is served." he sits across from her, adjusting the collar of his gray pinstriped shirt.
"Wow," she said, looking at the food, inhaling the aroma. "Thank you so much."
He poured the coffee into a blue cup, the nutty scent wafting up. "Cream or plain?"
"Cream please."
He put just the right amount in the cup and passed it to her. "Please, eat."
And she does. She'd never tasted fresher, more buttery, more perfect eggs. And the pancakes, they just seem to melt away on her tongue. The berries, sweet and juicy. The bacon, crispy without being burned.
She looked up and caught him watching her with a smile.
"How did you learn to cook so well?" she asked with her mouth full.
"My dad was in the catering business before he passed, taught me everything I know."
"Wow." she scooped up more food, just as he takes out his notepad and a pen.
"Mind telling me exactly what you were doing in the forest, at such an ungodly hour?"
"Wait, what?" her brows creased. "Is this another interrogation?"
He groaned. "This isn't the time to be hotheaded, Kyla. I need to do my job."
"Oh, I guess cooking for your suspects is also part of the job." she pushed the plate back to him. "What's in the food, Agent? Truth serum?"
He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath. "Why are you making this difficult?"
"I'm making things difficult?" she scoffed. "Wow! I'm sorry if I thought you came in here as a friend. I thought you've actually started to genuinely care for me. I just didn't anticipate the hot-shot detective, bribing me with breakfast."
"Of course, I care. Why else would I be doing things this way? It's so unprofessional." he grimaced, pushing the plate back to her. "If I was here for the information, trust me, there would be no breakfast, and I'll be with two other officers to escort you down to the station where we'll be taking down your statements."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I haven't exactly done things the right way since I met you by the lake. And the only reason, I've kept things that way, is because I know you're not the killer--if I wasn't completely sure then, after your attack and my encounter with that wolf, I'm most--"
"What wolf?" she interrupted him quickly, heartbeat rising. "What are you talking about?"
He rose a brow. "You don't remember? The wolf that attacked you."
She chuckled nervously. "You're definitely mistaken, Albert. There are no wolves in Glasgow Creek."
"I saw it, Kyla," he said calmly. "Right beside you. A black, yellow-eyed monstrosity. How could you not know what attacked you?"
"I blacked out, to be honest." she lied with a shrug. "I couldn't really tell. Everything happened so fast."
"You could've died out there." he frowned. "I wonder why the teeth marks on the bodies are yet to be identified by forensics as wolf bites." he shook his head disapprovingly, took out his phone, and started dialing a number. "This won't do."
"Who are you calling?"
"More hands. I need a new pathologist assigned to the case. Preferably, one I'll recommend to the District Attorney, myself. There is so much information lost on this case, and I can no longer trust some backwater coroner in a failing police system, to perform a decent autopsy. And when I'm done, we're going to talk, Kyla."
¶