Chapter 8

When she knew everyone was asleep, she went down to the kitchen to have her nightly snack. She was cynical, her stomach growling louder than a dominant wolf, and that was saying something.
Isabella sat down on the black leather couch in the living room, which Inez had bought not for its design but for its comfort and size. The room was the only one not decorated in Sue's garish colors. With its polished brown walls and huge apartment-screen TV, it was the most relaxing.
The volume was low enough not to wake anyone up. She took a greedy bite of the peanut butter sandwich that was so big it covered her face.
"Hey." she heard a soft whisper from the doorway.
"Hi." she said as soon as she'd gulped down the contents. "Silas, is that you?" she asked in surprise, only now able to make out the outline of his face.
"Yes, the only one at your service." He replied, a little amused. "Were you expecting someone else?" he asked in a well-crafted Scottish accent.
Isabella blinked twice as she registered his words. "What, no."
"You don't look very pleased to see me."
"Why would I be?" she asked honestly. "I'm still angry with you."
"What?" He dropped his oversized bags by the door. "Isabella, but that was months ago, and I more than apologized for killing your dog."
Isabella snorted. "Yes," she raised her hands challengingly. "Oh, I remember you replacing Xavier with a cat."
Hearing his dark chuckle, Isabella looked up at him. The door framed him perfectly. "But that was funny." He laughed again, this time just a note higher.
She cleared her throat, and his laughter died away. "Terrible, yes, but funny? That's impossible."
He walked over to the blue recliner that stood at the other end of the room. "It was a cat, not the end of the world."
Isabella looked at him with a look she hoped would cut her mouth to her ears. She was considering reaching instead for the knife that lay on the coffee table when he cleared his throat. Then he looked at Isabella, and humor visibly danced in his brown marbles.
"It was snoring and cuddling," she said somewhat dramatically with an eye roll she wished was as perfect as Logan's.
He rolled his eyes. Why was everyone rolling their eyes? "I don't remember Sissy ever cuddling with you."
Isabella groaned at that memory. "I wouldn't let him. He hated me. Cats hate me."
He grinned. "It was nothing personal." he mused in a deep, throaty voice that only a smoker could've. "It's an animal thing, nature. Cats hate dogs, and werewolves are no different than dogs."
"Nature, you say." Isabella grabbed the first object her hand touched and threw it at him. He dodged it just in time as it nearly collided with his nose. He caught it before it fell, and shook his head at her disapprovingly. She was impressed by its dexterity and wondered how effective it would be in a fight.
"Your mother would have kicked you out of the house." He emitted a dry chuckle. "I guess I've to apologize for saving you from becoming homeless."
"What?" she'd forgive him the day the sun rose and sat on her terms.
He moved his hand toward the light, and Isabella could barely make out her mother's vase. Sue had inherited it from Grandma Jones when she was sixteen. He'd been wrong; she'd not have thrown Isabella out. She probably would have scratched her face like Sissy had.
"Thank you," she said as he carefully placed it on the bookshelf ten feet away. Isabella thought he didn't trust her not to do it again. She'd no death wish. "But you still owe me one."
He sighed. "All right, I guess I still am. What do you want?"
"To buy me time," she tried not to show her concern.
"And what'll you do with time?" his voice lost its playful tone and became serious.
"Stop them, of course." Isabella paused. "Or maybe go into the future." And see what it holds for me, but she didn't dare say it.
He laughed so loudly she thought he'd lost his mind.
When he regained his composure, he said, "Can I offer you my firstborn instead?"
Isabella thought about it. "I think so," she suggested. "A girl: I don't want anything else." She just hoped he didn't take Isabella seriously. What was she going to do with a red-faced puppy? I'm not very good with children. I can't do anything - she can't even sing, let alone play ball, because, as her father likes to say, she's two left feet.
He shook his head and pointed to the glowing screen. "What're you watching in the middle of the night?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully.
He stood up. "In that case, let's watch a movie." He picked up his duffel bag and sat back down, leaning heavily on the seat. "I got this from my trip to Spain."
Surprised, Isabella sucked in her breath. "As far as I know, Silas doesn't buy movies because they're a waste of money."
He looked uncomfortable. "Well ..."
Isabella looked at the screen as a man screamed. She laughed out loud at how stupid people were acting. she couldn't imagine a werewolf begging at the sight of a spider. When the scene was over, she looked back down and noticed her sandwich. Why hadn't she thrown it at Silas instead?
she took another big bite. "That's good," she said with her mouth full.
She heard Silas groan. "You're not acting very girly." He smiled. "I didn't really buy it."
Isabella swallowed quickly and unexpectedly, and her throat protested bitterly at the sudden invasion. she was sure it looked like she'd an abnormal Adam's apple.
"Water," she tried to murmur, but her voice was lost in the contents of her throat.
When he seemed to understand, he was a second too late. She saw him hurry to the kitchen.
She looked around for her lemonade and spotted it next to the bookshelf. She quickly reached for it, opened it, and downed half the can in one gulp. she coughed as she regained her breath.
When he came in with a glass of water, she was already sitting in her seat.
He looked concerned as he asked, "Are you okay?"
"I'll live," she said, "the movie."
"You won't do what you just did if I tell you the truth?"
"No." she shook her head to reassure him.
He nodded stiffly and sat down. She waited, biting her lower lip to keep the smile on her face.
She threw the sandwich in his unsuspecting face, surprising him.
"What... like, why did you do that?"
She smiled sweetly at him. "I could've died."
He grumbled, "Unfortunately, you didn't?"
"You just hurt my feelings." Isabella put her right hand on her chest and wiped away an invincible tear. "No."
There was silence for a minute, then he said, soda forgotten, "I borrowed it from one of my clients."
"HA!" she laughed dryly. "I knew it."
He shook his head dismissively. "I forgot to give it back."
She nodded in amusement. "Yeah, I'll bet you did. Every time you go on a business trip, you come back with film you forget you don't own, what goes through your mind when you're packing?"
He shrugged.
"It's official," she said, contorting her face into what she hoped was a lethargic pose. "You're a thief."
"I'd never."
She shook her head. It seemed that the only way to win an argument with him was to make him think he was right. "All right, let's see."
Two hours, five empty soda cans, three packets of French fries, and a snoring Silas later, she was more than exhausted. She quickly cleaned up the mess they'd made, waking him up with difficulty.
He mumbled complaints on the way to his bedroom. When I was sure he'd gone to bed, I went into her room, threw myself heavily onto the bed and sighed.
"Finally I can sleep," she heard a thought that wasn't hers.
Automatically her heartbeat sped up and she'd to smile. "And why is that?"
He ignored her. "I don't know. It felt wrong," he said in a honeyed voice that resonated with pride.