Chapter 59
Dinner time rolled around, the Haven’s soft glow casting long shadows as the door creaked open.
Rhea trudged in, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of exhaustion, her collar stayed put.
Her costume—once a sleek emblem of heroism—was streaked with grime, flecked with something viscous and green, and reeking like a sewer had declared war on her personally.
Kael looked up from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand, stirring something that actually smelled edible. He grinned. "Hey, hero. You look like you got mugged by a garbage truck."
She kicked off her boots with a wet squelch, flopping into the nearest chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her amber eyes were rimmed with fatigue, her voice rasped. "Hey. I’m beat. What’s for dinner?"
Kael’s nose wrinkled theatrically as he gave her a once-over. "Depends. Do I want to eat near someone who smells like rotten eggs mushed with expired cheese stuffed in a sock which hasn’t been washed for years?... Shower first, then we’ll talk."
She scrunched her face into a tired, exaggerated pout. "It’s not my fault. We fought this weird-ass monster today. Some sewer-dwelling freak called himself Crocy. Fucking crocodile-man hybrid thing. Kept popping up whenever he got hungry—snatching kids, eating trash, stealing bikes. Caught him chewing on some poor kid’s tricycle like it was jerky."
Kael blinked. "You’re serious?"
"I wish I wasn’t," Rhea groaned, raking a hand through her tangled hair. "Guy smelled like sewage and despair."
He laughed, turning back to stir the bubbling stew—beef, potatoes, carrots, the faint aroma of thyme filling the air like a warm hug.
"Shower. Now. Use soap. Then use more. Maybe set yourself on fire a little for good measure."