TW: mention of cancer, spiders

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“I can’t believe I just spent so much money.”

Rosie clutched a large, squishy plastic bag in her lap.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much money in one place before, except for the hospital, and school, I guess,” she said, dazed.

“The hospital?” Droya asked, glancing at her as he drove them back to the hotel.

“Oh,” Rosie said, realizing she’d been speaking out loud. “Yeah, my mom has… she had cancer. She was in the hospital a lot. But she’s better now.”

“I’m glad,” Droya said.

“Me too,” Rosie said, hugging the big bag of clothes. The plastic and tissue paper rustled.

The two of them had independently decided not to mention their interaction at the store over Rosie’s scars, but since then, their conversation had been a bit stilted and uncomfortable.

“We have an hour to pack up at the Cainella House, check out, and meet our first appointment,” Zete said cheerfully. “After estimated driving time, that gives us about half an hour to get everything tidied at the Cainella.”

“Thank you, Zete,” Rosie said. “You’re so helpful and prepared, I appreciate it.”

Zete squirmed in his seat and flicked his wings shyly.

“Thank you,” he squeaked. She was nice, and almost as fun to play with as other pixies. He was glad he had brought her to see the shadow theater. Zete had never brought anyone there before.

The trio hit Zete’s estimates on the mark, and an hour later they met up with a demon landlord on the south side of Brulla to look at an apartment. Rosie took two steps inside before backing out in a rush.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, backing into Droya and nearly knocking the both of them over.

The entire apartment – walls, ceiling, floor – was painted black, and the ceiling height was only 6 inches taller than Rosie’s head.

“It’s basically a creepy cave,” she said after calming down. “I’m a little claustrophobic. It’s not happening. I’m sorry, but no.”

The second option was better. Rosie could see how, after all the spiderwebs and goblin colonies were cleaned out, it could be a real charmer. It had a very nice balcony that overlooked a tidy graveyard, and it even had a pixie burrow built into the wall between the kitchen and the living room. They cautiously told the landlady that they would get back to her. It was also at that apartment that Rosie learned Hell spiders could fly.

She had all her fingers and toes crossed for the third appointment.

They pulled up to the property and Rosie bit her lip, staring up at the stone house with trepidation. It was an upstairs apartment, with the landlord’s family living in the first level. There was an outdoor stairway up to the apartment, and the railing was covered with winding trails of bright yellow ivy with leaves veined in orange.

“Please don’t be gross,” she whispered to the house.

It wasn’t. It was actually pretty nice. The apartment had 4 bedrooms – no pixie burrow, but Zete could have his own full-sized room, and he agreed that was perfectly reasonable. The floor was a dark gray wood, polished to a shine, and the big windows gave them peaceful views of the residential neighborhood.

“What’s wrong with it?” Rosie whispered to Zete.

“What do you mean?” he whispered back.

“It’s the cheapest one, right?”

“It is.”

“It’s clean and in a nice neighborhood.”

“It is.”

“So what’s wrong with it?”

Zete frowned and zipped through the rooms again. All but one door in the apartment was open – one of the bedrooms.

“Can I see this room?” Zete asked the amber-skinned, winged demon who lived downstairs.

“Ah, no, I’m sorry,” he said. “That room is occupied.”

“Ah HA!” Rosie said, then fell into a coughing fit trying to disguise her outburst.

“Occupied?” Droya asked with a rumbled growl.

“There’s a… a shade that lives there,” the landlord admitted. “He refuses to leave. He keeps paying, but only for that room. He never leaves the room, so he really won’t be a bother.”

“No, we will take the filthy apartment with the graveyard,” Droya said, walking toward the door.

“Wait, wait,” Rosie said desperately. “Hold on, now, don’t be so hasty.”

She walked over to the closed bedroom door and knocked.

“Hi?” she said. “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

Then, a strip of paper slowly pushed out under the door that read in scribbled English, “I can.”

“Great!” Rosie said. “Do you mind if my friends and I move in with you?”

The next shred of paper read “I don’t care.”

“Great!” Rosie said again. “One more question. Will you be coming out of that room to kill us in our sleep or harm us in any way?”

Zete laughed. “Rosie,” he said, shaking his head.

Droya even snorted a laugh.

The next scrap of paper said “I will not harm anyone. Please give me back my papers.”

Rosie showed Droya the note.

“See? Perfectly safe.” She shoved all the notes back under the door.

Droya folded his arms and stared at Rosie, his tail thrashing angrily.

“Do you know how hard it will be to keep you safe when there is a stranger living with us?” he said, already knowing he had lost the argument.

“Oh,” Rosie said, and turned back to the door. “What’s your name?”

The paper had “I don’t care” scribbled out, and underneath said “Gurt.”

Rosie waved the paper at Droya.

“Not a stranger! His name is Gurt!”

Droya ground his teeth hard enough that Zete could hear it.

“We should discuss this in the car,” Droya growled.

“No,” Rosie said, smiling brightly.

They stared into each other’s eyes for an uncomfortably long period of silence.

“I won’t live in the flying spider goblin graveyard, Droya,” she said firmly. “We are moving in with Gurt.”

Droya abruptly sucked in a deep breath, looking to Zete as if he were about to yell at Rosie. But he didn’t. He breathed out slowly and held up his hands, palms out, in defeat.

“Wooooooo!” Rosie hooted. “Gurt, did you hear that? We’re roomies! I’ll get you some really nice paper, and whatever else you want, just let me know, okay?”

After a brief pause, another slip of paper wormed out from under the door.

“I can” was scribbled out, and underneath, “24 lb, 25% cotton bond.”

“No problem, Gurt,” Rosie promised. “I’m going to keep this note so I get the right kind, okay? You don’t have to answer. I’ll give this one back later.”

Gurt seemed okay with that.

After signing some papers with the landlord, they barely made it to a nearby furniture store before they closed, but made it up to the sales staff by spending a ridiculous amount of money to outfit their new place with beds, a sofa, a small table, and four dining chairs (in case they had company). Rosie clutched her chest as she handed over her debit card, and leaned on the counter to steady herself.

“How much more to get everything delivered tonight?” she managed to choke out.

She paid the extra delivery fee, feeling as if she were betraying every principle she had ever stood for in her shopping philosophy.

While the furniture was loaded for delivery, they went to an office supply store and Rosie bought a ream of cotton paper for Gurt, and some cute gel pens too, because Rosie thought Gurt might like them.

By the time the sun set below the trees in their quiet neighborhood in south Brulla, Rosie was relaxing on a new sofa, in her new apartment, with her new roommates, eating takeout, and using the landlord’s wifi to stream her favorite reality show.

Life was good. This was good. Rosie felt happy.

Droya was a little tense, but that wasn’t new. He would occasionally turn and glare at Gurt’s closed door, then glare at Rosie. She ignored him.

Rosie made her bed with brand new sheets and fluffed her brand new pillows. She brushed her teeth, realized they had no towels, and dried her face on her nightshirt. She realized they also had no toilet paper, and they made an emergency run to a nearby shop that was open late.

Before bed, she carefully fed the ream of paper under Gurt’s door, a few sheets at a time. Then she jammed several of the sparkly gel pens through the small gap under the door as well.

Gurt sent her a note with all the letters in different colors that said “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else, Gurt. Good night!”

She hummed a little song to herself as she snuggled into her fresh, clean bed, and she plugged her Hellphone in to charge, setting an alarm so she wouldn’t oversleep.

She fell asleep pretty quickly, worn out from the long day, and had one of the worst nightmares of her life. A nightmare that, unfortunately, had happened almost exactly as she dreamed it.