Page 18 of Grave Humor

Why did I always have to deal with the crazy ones? If I played his game, I’d lose, but I’d lose happy and hopefully in my bed since he didn’t have one of his own yet. If I pretended to play his game, he might leave me alone. Then again, even if I pretended to play his game, I’d play it anyway, as curiosity would inevitably take hold. Why wasn’t he human? If he wasn’t a freak, how could he be human but not human? How could he be not quite human yet not a freak?

The world had a lot of freaks, and I liked most of them.

“All right, Eoghan. What do I get should I discover your secret?”

The arrogant asshole smirked at me. “Good behavior is always rewarded.”

Given a week, he would drive me completely insane. Worse, I might like the ride. “Are you going to be terribly upset if I go back to bed? I think I’ve reached my capacity for insanity for one day.”

“Absolutely not. You need to rest. Will you be able to sleep with those annoying people grousing at your door?”

“I’m certainly going to try.”

“Well, if they disturb you, I’ll make them regret their choice to haunt your door.”

As I couldn’t judge how serious he was, I did my asshole parents a favor and didn’t tell Eoghan they already disturbed me. I sought the sanctuary of my bedroom, leaving my house guests to fend for themselves.

Tomorrow, I’d try to play a proper hostess.

Five

Satan would offer his residents air conditioning first.

My bedroom, one of two located on the small second floor of my house, offered little protection from my asshole parents. Their bitching and moaning annoyed my neighbors, who called the cops. Leaving Eoghan and Gordon to fend for themselves and deal with the police counted as rude, but I passed out the instant my parents shut up.

I woke to a gentle touch on my shoulder, and I burrowed beneath my blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

My arm hurt, and getting up meant I’d have to deal with my dismal lack of painkillers in the house, yet another luxury I couldn’t afford. Eoghan could afford it, if I got over my pride and asked him to get some for me.

Satan would offer his residents air conditioning first.

“You need dinner. It is ready,” Eoghan announced.

Wait. Dinner? Where had dinner come from? What was dinner? How had it arrived? Who had made it? Had Eoghan discovered the wonders of delivery? Had delivery existed in his era? I’d cleaned out my pantry during my pudding bender. Then, as I doubted the antique had seen a stove in his life, I blurted, “You can cook?”

“I required some base education regarding your oven, but it proved to be an adequate replacement for what I am accustomed to. It is a very convenient tool, and I think I may enjoy the offerings of this era. Gordon helped with the shopping after it got dark. More accurately, he did the shopping while I kept an eye on you and made certain those humans didn’t return and bother you. I made him a list. Well, not precisely. He made the list for me, as I do not write any languages he can read.”

“Yet you speak English.”

“I can speak any language I hear thanks to my magic. Your English is not my native tongue. It didn’t even exist when I first lived.”

Right. Eoghan more than classified as an ancient artifact. How ancient? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “How convenient.”

“At times, learning a new written language will be vexing for both of us, I’m sure. I suspect you don’t use the same runes I know. Language tends to evolve over time. The last time I awoke for any lengthy duration, few wrote anything at all.”

“Almost everybody can read and write now.”

“How bothersome. Another thing I must learn to do, I see.”

I translated that to mean I would be teaching him the basics of life in America. “Maybe you’ll be a quick study.”

Old dogs could learn new tricks, right? I could only hope.

I’d be doing a lot of hoping and wishing in the upcoming days.

“You sound quite skeptical.”

“Well, you’ve got to be pushing at least three thousand years old. Or older. I should sell you to a museum. I’d get a fortune for you.” I got out of bed, wincing at the throb in my arm. “I won’t sell you to a museum if you use some of that annoying magic of yours to provide painkillers.”