65. Safe Haven (Patreon)

“If you have anything you want to take inside, call it out now,” Kaidu said, a hand on the door.

Rowan paused, then held out his hand. “Manifest!”

His garden box plopped down into the road. The one plant in the box stood tall, much taller than he remembered it. A thick bud sat atop it, already as thick around as his thumb. The leaves curled in on themselves a little, and yellow spots stood out on them. As I thought, I need to take care of it regularly. Maybe a little more regularly than I’ve been doing.

“How are you gonna carry that in?” Ikara asked.

“Grab one end,” Rowan replied.

Ikara frowned at him. “You think I can carry that?”

“Worth a try. Unless…” Rowan glanced at Kaidu.

Kaidu rolled his eyes and stepped into the Safe Haven.

Sighing deeply, Ikara bent at the knees and took an end. “Alright, ready? Lift!”

A few tries and much moaning and groaning later, the two of them managed to lift the box and carry it into the Safe Haven. “Over there, over by the wall.”

“Fuck it. It’s going here.”

“Ikara—argh!”

The box clattered down by the door. After a second, Rowan bent and shoved it against the wall, out of the way of the door. He knelt by the box and quietly applied water and fertilizer, then checked Plant Affinity.

The plant glowed a faint yellow, not red, but not green, either. Rowan frowned. What else do you want? Okay, yeah, I could take care of you a little more often, is that it? Sorry about that. He reached out to stroke a leaf.

The leaf twitched. Sharp pain snapped down his hand.

“Ow!” Rowan drew back his hand, then peered at it. A razor-sharp line cut across his palm, oozing blood.

He looked up. Red stained the plant’s leaf, bubbled up in droplets on the shiny surface. It trembled, and the blood shuddered off the leaf and sank into the soil near the plant’s roots.

“You want… blood?” Rowan guessed.

The plant glowed a faint green, though whether it meant to answer his question or simply took in the blood through its roots was impossible to say.

It does seem carnivorous. And it drank a lot of my blood that first time I used it to stopper my wound. If it’s a monster plant, that isn’t even too strange. Pressing his lips together thoughtfully, he drew out his spade, cut his palm a second time, and dripped the blood onto the plant’s roots.

The green glow grew brighter.

“Kaidu, Rowan’s feeding his plant blooood,” Ikara tattled.

“Rowan can make his own mistakes,” Kaidu grumbled back.

The blood wound down to a dribble. Rowan stood, wiping his hand on the apron. He slung his pack of tools off his back and tossed it into the corner with a clank, then rolled out his shoulders, enjoying the lack of weight. “How come every time I garden, someone complains?”

“I don’t think bleeding on your plants counts as gardening,” Ikara replied.

Rowan rolled his eyes at her and looked around, taking in the room.

Small, but functional, the main room ended in a kitchen. He poked his head in the pantry and refrigerator and found both fully stocked. He grinned. “Alright, boys and girls, we’re having better than eggs and soup tonight!”

Ikara cheered.

Closing their food stores, Rowan addressed the rest of the haven. A smaller room opened up off the main room. A half-dozen cots sat across the room, evenly spaced. At the back, a pair doors hung open, giving a sneak peek of a sink and toilet.

Not bad, all things considered. He returned to the kitchen and washed his hands. “Kaidu, can you chop some chicken for me? Ikara, get started on washing and cutting some onions, bell peppers, and uh, I don’t know, tomatoes?”

Rowan set a pan on the griddle and picked out some spices, setting them to the side. Fajitas tonight! Ah, it’s so nice to have a fully stocked kitchen…

Kaidu snorted, but when Ikara pushed past him and busily snatched some veggies out of the fridge, he reluctantly grabbed the chicken out of the fridge. “How small?”

“Uh, strips? Like, I don’t know, half-inch-wide, half-chicken length?” Rowan said.

Kaidu nodded. He drew a knife from the cabinets and pointed it at the package of chicken, assuming a fighter’s stance.

“Uh—uh, you know what, Kaidu, why don’t you just sit down? I’ll uh, I’ll handle the chicken,” Rowan said, plucking the knife out of Kaidu’s hands.

“I could do it,” Kaidu argued.

“I don’t doubt you could, I don’t doubt it,” Rowan replied, laying the chicken on a cutting board. I might just be a little worried about eating Styrofoam and plastic with it.

Kaidu narrowed his eyes at Rowan’s back. He reached out and lifted Rowan’s elbow. “Your form is wrong. And you’re holding the knife wrong.”

“I don’t think the chicken cares,” Rowan muttered. Still, he let Kaidu fix his posture and his grip, as the other flitted around him, adjusting his fingers, wrist, and elbow. Good to know, for when I’m actually fighting.

“Hey, hey, do me!” Ikara said eagerly.

Kaidu glanced over, then abandoned Rowan to move to Ikara’s side.

Rowan narrowed his eyes at Ikara. She grinned mischievously back at him.

The door to the Safe Haven swung open.

Rowan whirled, knife out. Razors appeared in Kaidu’s hands in a millisecond. Ikara squealed and dropped below the countertop, out of sight of the front door.

Rowan flicked his eyes at his companions and caught similar sheepish expressions, or in Kaidu’s case, self-disappointment. We all forgot, didn’t we? That someone else could come into the haven.

A second later: Wait, summoning the razors isn’t a class skill or his manifest? Damn.

Dark hair shaved on the sides, muscles bulging out of a shirtless, soaking wet black top, a soaking wet hoodie around his waist, black jeans struggling to hold back his thighs, a man stood in the doorway, a sleek, modern steel hatchet in hand, all sharp edges and angular cutouts. He spun the hatchet one-handed, a grin on his face.

“I take it there isn’t room for one more?”