CHAPTER THREE

Unprecedented Circumstances

The circumstances in which he found himself were unprecedented. He’d need to stall any reintroductions to gain some time to think - he still had to decide on an appropriate course of action. The waif girl barely had time to get acclimatised to his living space. There hadn’t been any conversation to speak of; mostly, he only gave curt orders. Karou had been in a state that Warren presumed was shock and thought she must have undoubtedly been afraid. Even though unlocking her handcuffs without touching her skin was a nuisance, he felt it was better that way, so his cold skin didn’t spook her as it had upon their first encounter.

With her fortuitous arrival having thrown his schedule off-kilter, Warren resigned himself to the couch. Finally, he’d gotten the chance to sit down, but it was impossible to relax now. When he thought about how she would interrupt his life, he grumbled to himself, “this is all I need,” pinching the bridge of his nose.

The best way to proceed didn’t appear clearly in his mind. Had he already made a mistake by allowing her into his home? Perhaps his compassion was misplaced, but if he’d allowed Apollo to interrogate her, she’d have been dispatched by now.

A night of uncertainty befell him, but no matter how peculiar the night before had been, one thing remained predestined; the sun would rise. When it did, Warren woke early, sprawled down the length of the couch. Unavoidably he’d fallen asleep there, shielding his eyes with his forearm draped over his face.

In taking his first deep breath, he was bombarded by the sickly-sweet aroma that now filled his unit. It was a scent he couldn’t marry with any of nature’s perfumes. It wasn’t even distinguishable as laundry detergent, soap or the body odour of any female he’d encountered before. There wasn’t an accurate way of describing it other than to say it was mouth-wateringly sweet. It hindered his vampiric senses and made his throat dry, with bloodthirst - when he sat up, he coughed.

On autopilot, Warren found himself going through the motions of making his morning coffee. He would attempt to assimilate some form of normality, seeing that his day was bound to be out of the ordinary. Remembering fragments of the night before, Warren recalled his answers to any of the girl’s questions were deliberately vague. So far, he’d left her in the dark.

Before he’d fallen asleep, when he’d given himself time to puzzle through what to do next, he came to only dead ends regarding the long term. There would have to be some sort of information exchange if she were to remain at the Compound in any capacity - but should she stay? Could she stay? If so, then he needed to release a statement to the residents about her presence there which brought its own set of hurdles.

The trickling sound of the percolating coffee roused him and was comforting in its familiarity. He was pouring and coming to the brim of the mug when he came to from his deep thought.

Ah, there is a scent I can identify. He thought. A balm to fatigue and angst; Colombian Coffee.

Prizing the bedroom door open just a crack, Karou peered down the hall into the centre of the open-plan living space. Despite being wall-less, the ‘rooms’ were organised in an obvious way, as indicated by the furniture’s arrangement. Karou’s alert and steely-coloured eyes scoped the immediate vicinity. While her mind felt foggy with all the questions she harboured about the state of affairs; one question lingered at the forefront: Where is he?

Vigilantly she made her way out into an area that looked like the lounge, but he wasn’t there, so she pitter-pattered further. On her way, she glimpsed her tatty-looking shoes, sat by the door, and recalled how he’d instructed her to take them off. She got the impression that he wasn’t much of a talker; he’d been of few words, just like in the woods that time. Could it be that he was a shy person? Or maybe an introvert? Karou never thought the worst of people, so she never considered that he might’ve just been rude.

Despite being almost barefoot in her socks, she realised her feet didn’t feel cold against the hardwood floor like they had the night before. After a moment of contemplation, it occurred to her that the place was warm, much warmer than the night before. Her host had turned up the heating, anticipating that his guest would likely be sensitive to the cool temperature.

Poking her head around a corner, she found him. What he was doing was perfectly innocuous – he was drinking from a mug, which she figured was fresh coffee from the smell.

This was only the second time she’d seen him fully illuminated. Admittedly, she’d recognised him at first glance and was equally sure now that he recognised her too, but when he’d stood under the fluorescent lights, she’d been too taken aback by his being there to really look at him. Now the warm house lights made it possible for her to distinguish all his features, and she came to be staring at him inquiringly and quite unashamedly.

Astonishingly brave, Karou made her presence known to the stranger, or perhaps he was an acquaintance now.

“Hi.”

Warren calmly pulled back the mug from his lips, swallowed, lapped the taste of coffee from his lips and then responded with a customary greeting, “good morning,” the words left his lips like a purr, even if it was apparent that he was only just waking up. He wished the peace of drinking coffee in solitude could have lasted just a little longer. Alas, his moment was cut short now that she was right there in front of him. He braced for her millions of predictable questions but first asked one of his own, “Sleep well?”

When his eyes finally found hers, the intensity of his gaze caused a sudden and deep intake of breath on Karou’s part.

“Uhm, yeah...” She replied; in her befuddlement, and her voice became mousey. It was a typical question, but given the weird situation they found themselves in, she thought it wasn’t the most obvious question to open with. “W-Where am I?” That was an obvious question, one of many she had lined up.

“I’m not sure if it would be wise for me to answer that just now. How about you tell me how you got here first?” Warren leaned against the granite countertop with his arms folded over his chest. At this point, she might not have realised how fortunate she was to be being interrogated by him and not his guards; their methods sometimes weren’t as casual and non-violent.

“Well, I walked,” Karou answered with an incredulous look about her because, to her, the question seemed silly. Since she’d been caught on foot, wasn’t it evident that she’d walked there?

“You walked?” Warren asked, frustration twitching on his lips. Did she think he was a fool? “The nearest inhabited settlement from here is south by thirty miles or more. And you expect me to believe that you walked over thirty miles through the wilderness in November, in the snow, wearing a sweatshirt and tennis shoes?” Perhaps now she would see how unbelievable her explanation was.

“I mean, I hitchhiked out of town but the walk? It didn’t seem like thirty miles,” She muttered, and that was all she offered by way of explaining any further. At the time, she’d just fled. Until the cold really hit her, fear and adrenaline had driven her through the snow-blanketed woodland. She just had to get away from her parents. They were getting crazier by the day; she felt that they genuinely threatened her life. So the instant she’d felt well enough to consider leaving, she’d taken off.

“Why are you even in Montana? You’re from Massachusetts...” It hadn’t occurred to Warren that she might’ve doubted whether he remembered her or not, but now he confirmed that he definitely did.

“My folks moved us here. They’d been rambling on about “the signs”, y’know and all the crazy stuff on the news… They thought it would be “safer” here.” She air-quoted, with a look in her eyes that indicated that she thought the whole thing was some kind of joke. “Wait, are you going to take me back to them?” Suddenly her blue eyes widened with worry.

“You’re a runaway?” That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Turning his back on her, he grasped the work surface and hung his head in thought. “That means your parents are going to come looking for you, and then I’ll have three mortals on my hands?” He grumbled to himself.

Karou had crept a little closer to listen in on his contemplation and was taken aback by what she heard. “Mortals?” She audibly gasped. Things fell, no, crashed into place. That night, she’d had the unshakable feeling, call it gut instinct, that he was different but had ultimately written the thought off because it was, well... ridiculous. She put it down to having been alone in the dark woods around the pond; it must’ve been the atmosphere that made him seem so mysterious. But the way he said ‘mortals’ just now was to insist that there was something other. “As opposed to-..?”

It had been just over a year since news readers worldwide announced the conspiracy theories were credible. Supposed bona fide evidence, such as video footage of them and photographs of official government documents discussing their existence, had surfaced on the internet six months prior.

The broadcasted Chinese whispers had gone viral, but everyone felt safe, assuming it was a hoax. Behind the scenes, covert investigations started. Governments pooled funding and resources because they were desperate to separate truth from falsity. The fundamental question of ‘are we alone?’ was asked, and an unlikely answer echoed back from the darkness. One universal human truth was that aliens would arrive from space, but no one expected them to rise from amongst them.

When the others had revealed themselves, the curtain fell, and behind it stood the cast of a secret world where myths were reality and magik wasn’t an illusion. The eighty-year benchmark for a lifetime stretched, and the new average sat nearer two hundred. The divide between people now went beyond culture, language, and nationality but species too. Numerous races had healing capabilities beyond anything scientifically imaginable. Morality became distorted because, for some, murder was necessary to survive.

No statement was more true than that mortals feared nothing more than the alien. Humanity’s collective minds were blown by the knowledge that creatures of lore and myth lived amongst them! There had always been a threat hidden in plain sight for as long as time memorial. To say that there was unease amongst the flock underestimated the widespread hysteria.

The moment the question left her lips, Karou was already wondering, is he one of them? How could it not have been obvious to her? He was unlike any person she’d ever encountered before. There was something subliminally peculiar about him, but Karou couldn’t quite put her finger on the origin of that feeling even now.

At her surprised question, Warren glanced over his shoulder in her direction. As if she’d needed any further confirmation that he wasn’t ‘mortal’, she noticed that his eyes were no longer the dazzling blue they’d been the night before. They were dark but not a warm feeling brown or chestnut, fiery with disdain; no, they were black and hollow. His irises had swallowed his pupil, and combined with the angles of his facial features; he looked malevolent.

No normal person’s eyes change colour like that.

It sent a shiver down her spine but in place of the fright she ought to have experienced was curiosity. As she looked into the void of his eyes, she could see more than a predator looking back.

The man before her was equally and inescapably intrigued by her. Inside, he hoped that if he didn’t say anything, she was smart enough to think her way to the correct conclusion. The realisation that he wasn’t mortal, that she hadn’t come to until just now, was painted all over her freckle-speckled face. Warren would quickly discover that Karou struggled to keep her emotions off her face - her eyes were especially expressive.

Contrary to her, he was the picture of calm and swept back his brown hair in an effortless debonair fashion as he faced her again.

She knew, and he knew she knew, but what was he to do? The rabbit hole they were circling was getting deeper and murkier by the minute, but before he could string any more words together, she spoke again.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the others they’ve been talking about on the news?”

“There are many breeds of other, but I guess the answer you’re looking for is… Yes, I am.” Concise and unapologetic in his honesty, Warren waited for her reaction. Perhaps now that he’d admitted it point-blank, and it was no longer just speculation on her part, she would react how she ought to.

Karou understood what he’d said; his answer was simple yet explained so much – their secret location, the guards, even how he was to some extent. It seemed that the place she’d found was a hideout. To her host’s surprise, she seemed to relax further rather than lose her composure at this new information. Karou felt there was less danger in the known than the unknown.

Still, all of that didn’t clarify enough because he hadn’t answered her question entirely. “Which “breed” of other are you then?” Karou asked, with a look of curiosity behind her eyes that was disarming and childlike. Her commitment to becoming enlightened was endearing, and how her head tipped to the side like an inquisitive little sparrow almost made him smile.

Warren hoped to divert her attention and steer the conversation by answering another of her questions; he was still contemplating whether it was wise to answer her latter. For now, he wanted her to remain unafraid, merely because it would help him decide what to do with her faster if she was collected and not screaming hysterically. Warren was nothing if not cunning, and his plots were usually self-serving to some degree, so he’d chosen to bait her curiosity by not revealing his “sort” just yet. He was sure her bravery would falter the instant she found out he was of the most wicked ilk. It was highly probable that she’d run.

“I can’t take you back to your parents. I don’t know exactly why you’ve run away, but now you have some idea where we are; I can’t risk sending you back out into the world and revealing our location to anyone.” He said as he poured himself another mug of black coffee and then heaped in an alarming amount of brown sugar.

Karou could see how impeccably straight and white his teeth were, so naturally, a look of shock spread across her face. So distracted by learning of his sweet tooth was she that she’d almost forgotten about the question she’d asked - almost, but not quite. Her brow that had risen in surprise now sunk in disappointment; he’d avoided her most intrusive question, which she considered reiterating, but he spoke first.

“Would you like breakfast? Coffee?” He asked casually, sliding a mug her way over the surface that formed an island in the centre of the small, square kitchen.

“Sure...” The lull in the conversation left her feeling a bit apprehensive, mainly because they were alone. Warren’s breed aside, he was a man she didn’t know, and even though she could usually trust her nerves of steel, Karou prayed that her hands wouldn’t shake when she reached for the coffee pot. If he felt the urge to try anything reckless, she’d be helpless to stop him, and she was certain no one would hear her scream, never mind come to her aid.

Wielding the mug of scolding coffee close to her chest as her only weapon, she rounded the kitchen island and distanced herself again. She asked, “Is this my last breakfast?” out of the blue and in a resolute tone.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end the instant he heard her. His eyes found hers in a split second, and his brow furrowed. “What?”

“You said you couldn’t let me leave, so I thought that might mean you’re going to dispose of me somehow?”

“I don’t know what gave you that impression. If I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now,” Warren assured defensively.

The dishevelled girl who stood before him continued to be full of surprises. She faced the prospect of death nonchalantly; perhaps that was why she wasn’t scared by him. In truth, Karou hadn’t valued her existence for a while, but she couldn’t kick the strong sense of willpower she had to survive. Afterall she’d kept running and kept on surviving regardless of what life threw at her. No matter the damage or devastation she just endured, ultimately being too stubborn to die.

“So, what are you going to do with me?”

“I’m still considering my options...”

The peculiarity of the situation was starting to mount up, so striving for normality in everything else felt like the best way forward. Now seemed as good a time as any to start making the breakfast he’d offered to his guest. Busying himself about the kitchen, it became clear that he was making scrambled eggs and toast. Finally, a look of concern came over Karou’s face, not because he hadn’t made up his mind but because he had gotten butter out of his well-stocked refrigerator. She watched as Warren cooked the eggs in that butter. Place the scrambled mixture atop two slices of toast and then slid the plate in her direction.

“Uhm, just toast is fine for me, thanks...”

“You don’t like eggs?”

“I kinda like eggs, but I’m dairy intolerant.”

Attempting to be accommodating and hide his irritated sneer, Warren prepared toast for her and even put the option of a jar of jelly onto the counter to accompany her butterless toast. Seated at the kitchen island, he picked up cutlery to eat the meal she’d refused. Little was said as they ate, but they shared awkward eye contact every so often.

Just as Karou had taken the measure of Warren, he sat sizing her up too. His face remained stoic, sharp, and intimidating in all its edges as he contemplated the numerous courses of action. Karou wouldn’t be leaving the Compound that much he’d concluded. What he would do with her while she was there was the dilemma he pondered over the most. It was both the hardest to answer and what troubled him most.

To say that Warren wasn’t fond of people was perhaps the understatement of the century. People had never done him any great favours, so he generally went through life using them to gain whatever they could provide. Like a typical recluse, he never sought companionship and kept very few friends; arguably, his only one was Magnus. He took refuge in his solitude and savoured his alone time because the inconsistencies in most people’s personalities irritated him and inflamed his social anxieties. At all costs, Warren avoided casual conversation. Still, here he found himself confronted with not only a person but a puzzle, and even if he couldn’t stand people, adolescents especially, his great passion in life was being a master of logic and reason.

So far, the fragile mortal girl had avoided becoming a casualty of the ongoing war, as well as her first encounter with him. So it would’ve been a shame for her to meet her demise by accidentally stumbling upon the Compound. Coincidentally she didn’t appear to have any obvious mal-intent towards mythicals.

Without an obvious catalyst, a singular and deplorable thought reached from the darker recesses of his mind… Suddenly he imagined her tiny body mounted upon one of his leaching machines. Hidden in the basement vault of the Compound lay Warren’s best-kept secret, REDford’s backup blood collection facility. He’d strived to pull away from the archaic method of bloodletting to fuel his business for years now, but, alas, with hard times upon him, he’d had no option but to fall back on the barbaric vampiric custom that was currently his company’s crutch.

Some hundred mortal men and women of varying ages existed down in the concrete chambers of the Compounds underbelly. Naked and hoisted onto saddle-like seats designed to take away their waste, they were fed via feedings tubes and suspended in chemically induced comas. The machine’s primary function was to draw their lifeblood from them, though, via the tubes inserted into their wrists, thighs, and necks.

Could I do that to you? His mind begged the question. Could I drain you? He wondered, just like he had back in August. He still couldn’t decipher what about her had gotten him to walk her home that night without laying a fang or finger on her. Even then, he couldn’t escape how mouth-watering she smelled. Your blood is so… sweet. So delicious, I’d bet.

Before he could reign himself in or break the silence that’d grown between them, his inner demons were bickering amongst themselves. Each was a reflection of himself and the spectrum of his iniquity. One whispered; why let a machine drain her when you can do it yourself?

A scenario in which Karou became the helpless victim of his fangs flashed before his mind’s eye. The image left him fighting the reflex that moved his fangs to bear. Fortunately, all Karou might’ve noticed was how his upper lip twitched as he reached for his mug. He hoped that the flavour of the Columbian coffee would distract his mind from imagining the texture and taste of her blood. It did little to help because the sugar he’d put in spurred his imagination. His mind was insidious!

Oh no, she’ll be so much sweeter than that. Mmm, but just as warm, no doubt.

Too thirsty to fight any longer, Warren submitted to his imaginings for a moment, though it was a pity that they lacked detail. So before he could dissuade himself, he was staring at her over the kitchen island and taking in her form to fill in the gaps.

He knew she was at least of high school age; the prospect of college had been on the horizon for her when they’d first encountered each other, and her being just old enough was the only solace he could glean from his next unsavoury thought. It was an obvious one, fuelled by another of his basal urges.

You could do that too. A voice whispered seductively.

Yes, once she’s docile, you could touch her however you want. Another agreed.

Only for another to retort something even more egregious. But then you won’t be able to listen to her scream and beg you not to do it. You won’t be able to watch her cry.

Warren shuddered in his seat, aroused or disgusted? – He didn’t dare enquire of himself.

No. She’s too helpless to consider any of that. He concluded.

The fragments of his humane morality prevailed, much to the disappointment of his mind’s fiends; they whined and grumbled horribly as they slunk back into the filthy pits from whence they came.

With breakfast consumed, Warren had concluded his thinking and announced, “You’re going to have to stay here.” There were many reasons for his allowing her to remain at the Compound, some savoury, some not. However, one thing about Warren remained true; once he’d picked up a puzzle, he never put it down until he had fathomed it.

That’s not so bad, I guess. Karou supposed, but if only she could’ve known the tone of her host’s thoughts, she might not have felt so relieved. For now, her ignorance was her protection.

“What is here? What sort of place is this, a prison?”

“No, it’s a gated community for others. It’s safe here, even if you’re mortal. If I say you can stay, I promise that you won’t be challenged or harmed.”

“So, you’re the boss here, then?”

“Something like that.”

Karou was led around the labyrinthine concrete corridors of the Compound by her new keeper a little while later. If she stayed, she would need to know her way around, even if the amount of time was undetermined. Finally, they found themselves back in the large common room that she’d briefly seen the evening before. It was the homely feeling place, and her eyes were drawn to the cosy chesterfield sofas arranged before the open fireplace again.

The way her captivating blue eyes lit up when she peered into the library caused Warren to smile secretly to himself. He gathered from that that she liked to read.

While on a tour of the grounds, they bumped into a familiar face; Nate, the lycan – the same one who Karou had given a bloody nose upon her capture. Unlike the night before, he was dressed down because it was his day off. He smiled her way as he passed; he held no grudges. Being kind-natured meant he was most likely pleased to see that she’d made it through interrogation. When her curiosity about the lupine spiked, Warren noticed her head tip to one side - the bird-like movement seemed to be one of the strange girls’ mannerisms.

On their walkabout, they’d passed people of all sorts, and each had stared at Karou. Some were so bold as to turn their head to look longer. Karou guessed she must’ve looked odd to them.

Is it so obvious that I’m mortal? She wondered. Of course, she knew they weren’t. They were mythicals of every sort, colour, and creed and created an eclectic community.

Warren knew that the reason for the attention was likely because she was with him. No one had witnessed him keep any sort of company in the time he’d lived there.

They were heading towards a tumbled-down section of a dry stone wall that the cobbled path led through. It subsequently diminished into nothing more than a rough dirt track underfoot once they were a little way past the rubble. Despite the Compound grounds, gardens, and courtyard being open to the sky above, it was never far from Karou’s mind that they were in the middle of a wintertime wilderness, and quickly they were surrounded by trees. Trees of all sorts closed them in, circling the outer wall as an extra layer of protection from the mortal worlds seeking eyes. Karou could’ve been excused for assuming that they were now beyond the Compound wall, but Warren assured that, in the distance, the wall still enclosed them.

There was something nostalgic about being amidst the trees with him. Suddenly she announced, “Uh- I’m Karou, by the way,” as they quietly traversed deeper into the woods.

“I know. I hadn’t forgotten. You have such an unusual name.” Warren noted and almost smiled, much like he had done the first time she introduced herself to him.

“You’re… Warren, right?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

Soon enough, a building came into sight, tucked between the foliage. Warren explained that it was a small tavern belonging to the community. Named; The Brass Lantern, it was as quaint a building as its title. Just as the exterior promised, the interior wasn’t of the present age either. It felt as though they’d stepped back in time.

Interestingly it wasn’t a modern American-style sports bar but a pub she imagined one would find at a renaissance fair. Karou was awestruck, taking everything in, but they hadn’t been inside long when Warren was distracted by his cell phone ringing from his pocket. He answered it and abandoned Karou to her own devices.

“I trust you’ll find your way back later,” Was all he said in parting ways with her, and just like that, she had somehow become a resident of this secret haven...

Karou glanced around the tavern, and although she imagined she might come to feel comfortable there because the building had the kind of cosy vibe she appreciated, she couldn’t help feeling out of place. With no money to pay for a drink, what was the point in remaining in the public house anyway? Still wearing the dirty clothes and soggy tennis shoes she’d arrived in, Karou decided to explore somewhere less crowded.

Unfortunately, her sense of direction wasn’t great at the best of times, so since she was left at one end of a woodland trail, having traversed it only once, it took her almost an hour to get back to the tumbled-down wall near the Compound’s main building without any guidance.

Once she was back inside again, the books in the library called out to her like a homing beacon. While wandering the aisles in wonder, she thought, if I’m going to stay here, wherever here is, I might as well make the most of it and read as much as possible.

A grumbly, hungry tummy stirred her from reading, and so a new quest to find her way back to the semi-underground apartment her host lived in began. When she eventually found her way back through the warren of corridors, it was gone sundown, and when she snuck in through the front door, the only light was that of the lounge’s standard lamp. She wasn’t three steps into the place when a low voice called out to her from over the lounge.

“Always take off your shoes,” Warren ordered. “Please.” He added.

Karou spotted him ominously sitting in the corner of the couch, half in shadow.

“Oh, sorry.” Startled and feeling scolded, Karou kicked the dishevelled shoes off her feet to linger awkwardly by the door. As if matters couldn’t have been worse, her stomach rumbled again, cutting the split second of silence that had mounted.

“I guess you didn’t eat at the tavern, then.” Warren grunted, mildly irritated. He hadn’t planned to eat that night, but now it seemed he’d have to make an effort toward the girl’s wellbeing. He’d hoped she’d take the initiative and take care of herself while keeping out of his way, but already she was a nuisance.

Karou would soon experience some of his usual evening routines and learn that he barely ever wavered from it. Even a change as small as making dinner instead of not inconvenienced him and disturbed his mood unreasonably.

Swaying from one foot to the other, Karou wasn’t sure what to do with herself and felt like she was waiting for Warren’s next order.

“Would you, perhaps, like something to eat?” He found himself offering, regardless.

“Oh, yes, please.” As she answered, she wiggled her toes in her stained socks with a hole in the heel. “Uh, do you want me to make dinner? You were kind enough to make breakfast.”

“Are you a good cook?” Warren asked, straight to the point.

Karou merely shook her head in reply; it would have been embarrassing to admit that all of her culinary attempts had ended in disaster – but the thought counted, right?

“Then, no, I don’t want you to cook for me,” Warren stated in a tone that made her no longer feel polite for offering but stupid. When he stood from the couch to go to the kitchen, Warren had noticed how Karou held herself and how bedraggled she looked too, so despite how rude his previous statement had been, he tried to show a kinder side. “You should get washed up while I make dinner.”

“Alright.” She feebly agreed but still looked at a loss.

Before she could ask, Warren nodded to the unit’s only hallway. “First door on your left, there are fresh towels in there already. Feel free to use any of the uh, products.”

“Thank you.” Karou scampered out of his way immediately, only for him to call her to his attention again.

“You can eat pasta, can’t you?”

She couldn’t recall having mentioned that pasta was her favourite, but she was pleased that that was what he planned to make either way and nodded yes before she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Before she tried to figure out how the hell to turn on the hot water, she was taken aback by the sleek, grey-tiled wet room she found herself in. If someone takes this much care over how nice their plumbing looks, they must have a lot of money. She thought, feeling overwhelmingly out of place. Karou remembered thinking he must’ve lived a life she couldn’t envisage on their first meeting. She was right. This was beyond anything she could have dreamed.

Peeling off the clothes she’d been wearing for almost three whole days felt amazing, but the hot water was even better! The grime, sweat, and dead skin sloughed off of her like the neglect was melting away. Bathing in luxury was so far removed from what she was used to. The shower back home gave out a mere trickle compared to the rainfall effect of the sunflower-sized showerhead above her now. She could stretch her arms wide without getting caught up in a cold, clingy, mildewy plastic curtain. How pristine the tiles and glass were only made her feel cleaner.

Wrapped in a towel, Karou dashed through the steam and straight into the bedroom. She dressed in fresh clothes and returned to the kitchen with little thought. She could already smell something delicious cooking.

A huge, piping hot bowl of spaghetti in marinara sauce sat on the kitchen island. Warren sat before one place setting; across from him, he’d set another. He had what looked to be a journal or planner sitting next to his plate and was writing something into it. He gestured to the bowl with his free left hand and invited her to help herself.

All the while he was writing away in his planner, Warren’s mind was only half focused on his work at hand. He was still contemplating whether it was fate that Karou had bumped into him twice in the space of four months and with over two thousand miles between their first meeting place and the Compound. Of course, he didn’t really believe in such things. Mostly, he thought that people created their destiny. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder, Was I meant to take you away in August? Is this a second chance? Hmm, why have I been presented with this open-ended opportunity at all?

Dinner was quiet and passed unceremoniously, but the food was tasty. Warren was careful not to stare over the countertop at her as she ate, but Karou wasn’t quite so cautious. Between concentrating on not flinging spaghetti everywhere as she ate, her eyes always returned to the man sitting across from her. She’d never eaten dinner with a male companion before.

After wiping his lips on a table napkin, Warren lifted his planner and slid a thick paper binder over the granite from beneath it towards Karou.

“What’s this?” Karou asked curiously.

“It’s just protocol that I give this to you.” Warren shrugged and got down from the barstool to clear away their dishes. “It’s just a manual… ‘The rules’, if you will.”

Karou pulled the document closer and flicked to the contents page. Some of the headings caused her brows to rise. “Magik and Elemental manipulation regulations… Luna transformation regulations, Sanguine feeding restrictions, Inter-racial conflict and relations directive.” Karou read aloud.

“You’ll notice there isn’t a section in there pertaining to mortals, so I don’t expect you to bother reading any of it… As I said, it’s just protocol.” Warren glanced over his shoulder at the girl. He’d already begun to fill the sink to wash the dishes.

“Right.” She nodded and closed the booklet with a sigh. “Oh, no, let me wash up. You cooked for me; it’s the least I can do.” Karou jumped out of her seat promptly.

Warren flinched away when she suddenly invaded his personal space in her eagerness to be helpful. “Alright…” He backed up and allowed her access to the sink.

Karou headed back into the lounge when she’d finished the task of washing up and found that Warren had made himself comfortable on the couch again. Sensing that she didn’t know what to do with herself, again, he looked her way briefly. “You can take the bed again. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“It feels rude of me to make you sleep on your couch.”

“I agree that’s not an ideal solution, but for now, it’ll have to suffice,” Warren stated so formally that it made Karou feel a tinge of unwelcomeness. He had a knack for being so straightforward that he came off as unfriendly. “I don’t have anywhere else to house you.”

Definitely, nowhere that I can be sure is safe, Warren thought. He couldn’t just bung her into an eight-bunked room with a bunch of other mythicals. But I’m not entirely sure you’re safe here, with me, either.

“Go and get some rest. I’ve got some more thinking to do about the situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

“Oh, okay. Well, goodnight then. Thank you for-… everything.” Karou said politely and left Warren stunned by how casually she addressed him.