Eliona's War 3: Lethal Healer

Ch. 30

Seth lay flat on his back, staring up at his bedroom's ceiling. Thoughts tumbled through his mind in a disorganized jumble.

From the dungeon itself to his teammates finding out the truth, there was a lot to process. What had surprised him most, apart from getting punched in the face, was Kiah's quick acceptance. Of all people to react badly, he would have expected her to be the one. Instead, it had been Snow.

Seth rubbed his jaw, wincing at a phantom ache. He'd never imagined that Snow would actually hit him. What was even more puzzling was the question why? Why had the other player been so upset?

It wasn't like Seth's problem would affect Snow or the whole team in general. Seth did everything he could to make sure of that. If he got hurt, it would only take a few moments to get himself healed and functional again; Batin's lessons had made sure of that. Or maybe it was the shock of the situation, but again, at the end of the day, it was something Seth had to deal with. Not Snow.

Noise drifted in from the hall. Seth turned his head to see the big chair by his bed empty, and his bedroom door left open a crack. A small stream of daylight filtered through. He listened to the sound of running water, clattering dishes, the soft murmur of hushed conversation coming from the direction of his kitchen.

It sounded alien.

It was like a dream, or one of those tv shows where the families were so perfect it was painfully fake. The kids were happy and well behaved, the mother and father attentive and loving, and they'd prepare dinner while the kids played in the living room. There'd be sounds like this—he could hear quiet laughter from his own kitchen—and then they'd all gather around the table together in a cheerful, peaceful meal where they'd ask things like, How was your day, dear? Or Can you pass the gravy, please? Or they'd say, Well done on getting an A on your book report, Timmy! I'm proud of you!

It was all so stupid. No one actually lived like that. Seth's lip curled before he gave a quiet snort. He clearly had an invader in his kitchen—Jake if he had to guess—and not a loving mother or an attentive father. Those things didn't exist.

He rolled out of bed, dragging a hand down his face and feeling the scratch of a few sporadic hairs doing their best to grow into a wimpy beard. It was an embarrassment that was better removed as soon as possible, considering he'd seen old ladies sport better chin hairs than he. Seth took a quick shower and shave, avoiding the violet-blue eyes that gazed out of the mirror.

He dressed in a baggy black T-shirt and gray jeans, which he had to use his only belt to keep it from slipping down his hips. It gave him pause, because he could still remember when his pants felt too snug and his shirts a bit tight. A crease settled between his eyebrows, and didn't fade even when he finally ventured into his kitchen.

He wasn't surprised to see Jake cooking breakfast. And he wasn't even surprised to see Mrs. Beakor herself already sipping at a coffee at his kitchen table. What did surprise him was to see Tripp hanging out at the table as well.

Seth paused, processing this. The clock on the stove said it was just after 9am. Didn't Tripp have a diner to run? It was a Thursday, after all. He idly scratched the back of his hand, pressing his lips together. Since when had his apartment become the morning meeting place? None of them even had keys, either.

Jake probably let them in. Resignedly, Seth ventured into the kitchen. "Is Chadley coming over, too?"

Mrs. Beakor greeted him with a lazy grin. "Well, good morning, sleepy head."

"Chadley's looking after the diner," Tripp informed him. "Come, have some breakfast. Your flight leaves within the hour, so there's not much time."

Seth dropped into a chair, his confusion growing even more. "Chadley knows how to run a diner?"