Bokelskere.no

Business attire is gone too; every person we pass has robed up, and each time we go by they make this gesture of blessing and prayer. Or maybe it's a hex, depending on the person. I don't do anything in return. Only one hand gesture springs to mind, and it just isn't appropriate.

She glares at me resentfully, like I'm being unfair. But she's probably going to try to kill me, and kill me righteously, so eff you very much.

I've wanted to strangle her for half the time I've known her, but I like that.

We go down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. But I suppose that's not necessary, considering the ruckus we made at three in the morning. I expected all the lights to come on and for the innkeeper to bang down the door and rush in holding a baseball bat. Except they don't play baseball in this country. So maybe they would have been holding a cricket bat, or just a big stick, I don't know.

There's no doubt in his eyes. He's absolutely certain that the plan will go from A to B, and everything will work out with rainbows and pots of gold. It's like he's completely forgotten how many people I got killed last fall.

"What do you think the Order is going to do?" he asks.
"Help us open a door to Hell, if we're lucky," I reply. Lucky. Ha ha. The irony.

But this hunch is all we have to go on, and every time I question him about feasibility, he smiles at me like he's Yoda and I'm just a dumbass without the Force.

I tell myself that she's afraid for me, that she regrets telling me to come for her, and is staying away deliberately. It's a nice delusion. Maybe it's even true.

"I just thought it would be nice if you got out and met some new people."
"I meet plenty of new people."
"I mean living people."

I feel like an ass for wasting Cait's time. I feel like a bigger ass for secretly comparing her to a dead girl I killed four years ago.