Dreadknot by S.E. Anderson

Author:S.E. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bolide Publishing Limited
Published: 2022-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Ain’t No Party Like a Higher Dimensional Unicorn Party Because a Higher Dimensional Unicorn Party Literally Doesn’t Stop in Twenty-Six Simultaneous Directions

It felt like an eternity since I’d last woken on a sunny morning all snug in my bed. Who knows what planet Desmond pulled this mattress from, but it certainly wasn’t the disgusting colonial mattresses I’d heard horror stories about, what with the hay, horse hair, inevitable bugs, and the overall mixture of dead skin and salty sweat that they gathered over the years.

By the sound of typing and hushed words from the neighboring room, Zander and Desmond must have worked through the night, a small army of localized woodpeckers.

Zander.

I stared at the empty place in the bed beside me, cold and undisturbed through the night. We had said nothing and everything last night. He knew, he knew what I could do, yet, apparently, that was his flaw.

It wasn’t right. None of this was right. He couldn’t keep putting everything on himself; he was going to crumble under the weight.

The second my toes touched the floorboards, Urruin appeared in the doorway. He held a suitcase-sized package, which he promptly laid out for me on the cushy armchair in the corner.

“Morning?” I said quickly, inexperienced in the world of butlery.

“Good morning, Ms. Webber,” he said, turning to face me and give me a short bow. “Would you like me to draw a bath?”

He stared at me, unsmiling, unblinking, just waiting. It seemed the warmth from last night had entirely faded.

“Um... no, no need. Thanks.”

“Are you quite certain?” He scanned me up and down. “I have pulled out a dress for you from the costume trailer.”

“The... costume trailer.” Right. Agency safe house. Maybe they had a skin wrap or two lying around there too. I shuddered. How many of them would go up in flames, taking their occupants with them?

“Will you need help dressing?”

Probably. But even knowing he was a butler, I wasn’t all too jazzed at the idea of having a stranger seeing that much of me. Call me a prude, but we were living in the era of the Puritan.

“No, thank you.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, that will be all.”

Thank the stars for the Agency’s costume department. I had expected to be wearing Puritan black but instead was greeted by a lovely linen, a shade between sky and baby blue. Grabbing the box, I rushed behind the divider, stripping off the borrowed nightshirt, and pulling on the skirts. A sea of fabric swirled around my waist with no logical way to stay up. I frowned. This was the real thing, made by a real dressmaker, for real Earth women, years before the invention of zippers or Velcro. The Agency must have been too lazy to make their own outfits. Such a pain. At least they were investing in the local economy.

“Need a hand?” I heard from the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, dumbass.” Blayde sighed heavily. “You need help?”

I paused. “Yes, please.”

She joined me behind the divider, tutting. She, too,

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