The Heart's Content

Despite what he had told Vaggie, Husk was a nervous wreck the next morning. No, he wasn't nervous—he was terrified. He knew all too well that defying Valentino like this was basically suicide. If that psychopath discovered what he and Vaggie were planning, they would be finished. Valentino wouldn't kill them outright; he still needed them. Instead, he would turn their lives into a living hell. The torment they faced now would seem like mercy compared to what awaited those who dared to defy him.

Husk and Vaggie weren't the first to attempt betrayal. Humans and creatures alike had tried to escape, tear up their contracts, or even kill Valentino. But every time they attempted to flee, they were drawn back, their contracts were unbreakable and fireproof, and Valentino was simply too cunning to be killed. Those who had failed were caught and subjected to brutal punishments for the rest of their lives. They were beaten, starved, magically twisted and morphed, and some were even raped. Until their dying days, they performed on stage while enduring torment backstage—performing and suffering until they dropped dead.

"God, give me strength." He prayed internally. "Please don't let us fail."

"Since when do you take six teaspoons of sugar in your coffee?" Rosie asked, breaking his reverie.

He was having breakfast with her that morning, feeling that if he was about to embark on a path toward endless agony, he should at least savor one last happy moment. Yet, even in her lovely presence, fear consumed him. He couldn't eat or drink; he could only nervously spoon sugar into his coffee cup.

"Oops." He muttered.

"Are you alright?" Rosie asked, concern etched on her face. "You seem a little on edge."

"I'm fine. Just didn't get enough sleep last night."

"You look pale."

"I didn't eat much last night."

"Or this morning, apparently. You haven't touched the croissants or the fruit. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on, there has to be something. You ask me to breakfast, then spend the time refusing to eat and not saying a word. What is it? You can tell me."

But Husk didn't want to share the truth. If she knew what he was planning, she would want to help, and he couldn't bear the thought of Valentino hurting her any more than he already had. Yet he couldn't lie to her; natural magic users like Rosie had built-in lie detectors. If he was going to offer an excuse, it had to be truthful. He quickly rifled through his mind for a plausible issue to mention. Gambling debts? No, that would scare her off. Drinking problems? Even worse. Insecurity about his looks? That could work.

"Well, the thing is... You and Beth have been so nice to me lately—nicer than anyone has ever been in my life, really. We're becoming so close, I...I guess that I'm nervous one of you will eventually see what I really look like."

"And?"

"And I don't know if you've ever seen a grunch before, but we're not exactly a handsome species."

"Handsome is in the eye of the beholder." She replied. "That's what my Grammy always said, and it must be true because my grandfather, while charming, wasn't considered attractive by many."

"Really? What did he look like?"

"He was short, bald, had ears that stuck out, and crooked teeth. But according to Grammy, she found him irresistible."

"Wait a minute. If he was homely and your grandmother was a sea witch, how do you look so... um..." He blushed slightly. "Well how are you a looker?"

"Easy. My Grammy was a looker."