Page 70 of Darkness Defined

“That’s because you have a selective memory,” I mumbled to myself.

“I heard that.”

“And hearing,” I added louder.

“Okay, what if we did the research project on the knight?”

“I don’t follow. It needs to be a history project. We can’t do it off of one person. Especially when we don’t really know anything about them… like their name.”

“No, but we could do it on a whole family. It’s the first thing he says. ‘My family had been fighting the darkness for as long as I could remember’. I could be wrong, but that sounds like it’s an entire family that’s been doing this for generations.”

Okay, that idea held water. “You’re not wrong, but how do we prove it?”

“First, we’ll have to translate all the odd bits, and of course, I need to finish reading it. That would probably help.”

“You have got to be kidding me. You haven’t even finished it yet?” I stared at the back of the couch in disbelief.

Judging by the shuffling sounds, he was fidgeting. “I’ve been a little distracted, okay? I’ll work on it now.”

“And what am I supposed to do while you have the book?”

He snorted. “I know you’re not going to pretend that you don’t have this thing virtually memorized.”

I made a face at his back. “Cheater.”

He didn’t respond except to turn another page. I saw him pick up a pencil and heard the telltale scratch of graphite against paper. At least he was taking this seriously and taking notes.

I pulled over an empty notebook and started making notes about the things I could remember needing translation. It was rough going, but I was confident that I was getting at least a good chunk. I’d never tried to see how much I could recall on my own before and was intrigued by how many pages I filled.

Suddenly, I realized I couldn’t hear the scratch of writing anymore.

I swear.

I extricated myself from the table and walked around the side of the couch to see his head resting on his chest. The bugger was out cold. I let out a sigh. He may be hell-on-wheels awake, but asleep? All the innocence he didn’t want the world to know about was plain to see.

My fingers itched to comb through his hair, but I really didn’t want to risk waking him. I reined in the impulse and looked at the book propped against his knee. If he wasn’t using it, then I certainly could. I leaned over, careful not to disturb him. One episode was enough for today. By some miracle, the pencil was still in his hand. I squinted at the paper in the book.

Cheeky bastard hadn’t been taking notes at all, he’d been sketching on the bookmark.

I leaned a little further to get a better look. The image was still mostly unformed, but I had a sneaking suspicion it was a Shadow Demon. Even unfinished, I could still tell he was quite good.

Surprises everyday Matthew Duncan.

I shook my head and ever so slowly reached for the book. I was debating whether to pull it up in one swift motion or try to ease it from his grasp when he shifted in his sleep. He took a deep breath that brought him alarmingly close to where I was hovering just overhead.

“Alex.” My name was barely even a whisper.

I looked down at him, not sure if I’d heard right, to find his eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

He shifted again, his face taking on an anxious expression. “Don’t.”

With one word, my heart broke to pieces.

I straightened up, abandoning my quest for the book and tried not to lose my shit right there in the living room. Matt might not say anything to my face, but it was clear he was struggling. I wanted to run to the safety of my room, to escape this unfolding nightmare, yet my feet stayed rooted. There wouldn’t be any comfort for me there, just more misery when he eventually woke up and demanded my presence yet again, despite everything.

His face took on additional levels of anxiety. “I’m sorry.”

I blinked.