The Haunted Hero: an adult urban fantasy (The Aria Fae Series Book 4) by H. D. Gordon

Author:H. D. Gordon [Gordon, H. D.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: H. D. Gordon Books
Published: 2016-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

The door that led out to the roof opened, and Thomas’s deep voice spoke behind me. “There you are,” he said, coming to sit on the crate beside me. “I was worried when you didn’t answer your door. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

I didn’t turn to look at him, just stared out at the dark city before me, watching the shadows layer atop shadows. “I spent all day in bed,” I said. “I feel better now.”

Thomas was silent for a while, though I knew he was studying me carefully. There was not a trace of the usual gold I inspired in his aura, only shifting shades of gray, black, and dark blue. These were the aura colors of a haunted man, and I bet dollars to donuts that at the moment, our auras very much matched.

Though the power was out all across the city, flashes of red and blue lit up the night, the sirens on emergency vehicles wailing and whirling. Twenty blocks to the west a fire was tearing through a chain of small stores, the smell of burning items detectible on the air. I knew if I were to respond, I would see looters running out with arms full of stolen items, maybe a storeowner or two attempting to fend them off and protect their livelihood.

To the east, closer to the bay, where the aroma of fish was a permanent fixture, traffic was slowed to a halt, the blasts of car horns and angry shouts from commuters rising into the night. Without the assistance of traffic lights and signals, there had been an unprecedented number of vehicular accidents, resulting in three deaths the last time I’d bothered to check the news. I’d been willing to bet that number had risen in the last twelve hours.

The Chief of Police and the Public Advocate (the person whose job it was to temporarily take things over should the mayor of Grant City be unable to fulfill her duties, as was currently the case) had declared a state of emergency, and the curfew was still in effect and being ignored by the less savory inhabitants in town.

I sat on my crate atop the crappy apartment building I called home and watched as this all took place, my head resting in my hands and my heart lying broken by my feet.

Before broaching this subject—I was certain he would indeed broach it, based on my observation of his aura—Thomas removed the backpack he’d been carrying and produced a plastic bag that could only contain food.

Sure enough, moments later I was shoving as much Rueben on rye into my mouth as was humanly possible in a single bite—or half humanly possible, anyway. This delectable sandwich was accompanied by a cold bottle of water and crisp apple slices. Once I’d made these things disappear, I turned to Thomas, eyebrows raised.

He looked back at me, his handsome face only partially visible under the cloak of night. Just when disappointment was starting to settle, Thomas reached into his backpack again.

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