Inhuman

always were. She knew that, just as she knew how inevitable those feelings were when life turned topsy-turvy. After the accident she'd been hit by multiple bouts of "why me." Eventually she'd accepted that she wasn't to blame, but neither was she exempt from random tragedy. Shit happens.
    If she could just do something! She took two quick steps but stopped, not knowing what she might step on or trip over. She longed for water and a rag to clean a corner of this room, a spot big enough to sit down. And a candle. She'd need light to clean, wouldn't she? Light to hold back the dark that pressed against her skin as if winter itself was running cold fingers over her, trailing shivers and fear.
    She should have gone with Nathan. She'd wanted to, but he'd said in his calm pragmatic way that obtaining what they needed would take much longer if she was with him.
    Alone, he could move unseen, and quickly. That was undoubtedly true, but she hated being helpless, relying on him to supply her needs.
    She hated being alone. If only she could call Grandfather… oh, she wanted him. The need for his voice, his presence, washed over her, leaving her shaky inside as well as out.
    If, if, if. "
If only" won't get supper on the table
, Grandfather used to tell her.
Can't start from where we wish we were
. That was what he'd said when she lost her parents and he lost his only child. Start from where you are, or you don't start.
    Kai consulted her belly and found she'd be starting from cold, hungry, scared… and mad. Anger was a relief. Anger made her less of a victim and shut out the whiny voice. What was she doing, handing control of her life over to someone else? Nathan meant well, but—
    The door creaked and her stomach flipped back to plain old scared. She spun to face it.
    "It's me," Nathan said softly. "Took longer than I expected."
    Nathan was a black splotch against the smudged outdoor darkness, surrounded by the slowly moving shapes of his thoughts as they swam through a faint glow of indigo, lilac, and silver.
    Those were not upset colors. "I want to talk to you."
    "All right." The door creaked closed, shutting out the bit of moonlight. The grease-and-beef smell of fast food entered with him. "Let me fix the window first so we can have some light."
    "Light would be good." To her disgust, her voice cracked.
    Soft footsteps approached, along with his colors and the food smells. She felt his hand on her cheek. "Action is easy," he said softly. "Waiting is harder. Has it been bad, waiting here?"
    "It isn't exactly bringing out the best in me."
    "Hold this." Paper rustled as he pressed a paper bag into her hand. "I'll cover the window."
    The greasy-fries scent from the contents of the bag hit her smack in the reptile brain. Her stomach growled as his colors moved to the dirty window. The thunk of a hammer twice announced progress in the window covering.
    All at once there was light. A ball of it, rosy and welcoming, perched in the air behind Nathan's head as he turned to her.
    "Ah… that's not a flashlight."
    "You'd call it mage light or fairy light." When he crossed to her the light followed like an obedient puppy. It wasn't bright—maybe the equivalent of two or three candles—but was plenty for her to see the blanket draped over his arm. She didn't see the hammer she'd heard him use. "It's a simple trick. You could learn to summon one, if you wished."
    "I do wish, but later. Nathan—"
    Again he touched her, lightly this time and just on her arm. "You have questions, things you need to say. But we should eat first."
    Her stomach seconded the idea. "Is that blanket for us to sit on?"
    "Yes." He spread it out. "The drinks are in the car, as well as a few other things. I'll get them."
    "What car?" she demanded.
    "That was my decision. There's no blame to you for it."
    Which meant he'd stolen the car. "Did you steal the supplies, too?"
    "No. I prefer not to steal, but that wasn't practical with the car."
    She sighed, weary with change, fear, and decisions. Too weary to sort through the wrongs and rights. "I'll help bring things in."
    "You can, but I'll have to take down the wards first."
    "Do you mean I can't leave until you do that? That I've been trapped in here all this time?"
    "Eh." He rubbed his nose, looked at the floor. "Well, yes. I'll fix that later, all right?"
    She settled unhappily on the blanket.
    When he opened the door, the mage light winked out—no gesture or incantation needed. Every time he returned—first