do.”
“Good.”
Death walked out of the room, slamming the door behind it and Addolgar let out a breath, shoulders slumping, arms hanging down.
“What the hells was that thing?” Braith demanded. “Why are you sending death to my room?”
Addolgar glanced back at the door, his hands lifting, indicating for her to keep her voice down. “That was not death,” he whispered. “That was our Great-Aunt Brigida.”
“Brigida? Brigida the Foul?” He nodded. “I thought she was dead.”
Addolgar shook his head and whispered, “She just won’t die.”
“I heard that, boy!” Brigida’s voice rang down the hall, and Addolgar’s pale human face turned paler. Braith did find it disturbing someone that old could hear a whispered comment behind a thick wooden door, but honestly, at the moment, Braith had other issues to deal with.
“Addolgar?”
He looked up at her, tried to smile. “Aye?”
She lifted her hands. “What are these?”
“Chains.”
“Why am I wearing them?”
“To protect you from yourself.” He seemed to calm down, his uncomfortable smile turning bright and cheerful. “See? I’m here to take care of you!”
Braith sighed. “Addolgar the Cheerful . . . you are such an idiot.”
Addolgar walked across the room and sat on his bed. The bed that Braith of the Darkness was currently on. She looked surprisingly cute on his bed, wearing his shirt and his uncle’s chains, and sporting that big lump on her forehead.
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