Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(44)

Knowing that Tink wasn’t going to drop it until I answered the question, I decided to go with the partial truth since I wasn’t exactly feeling ready to discuss what had truly happened. “We had a fight yesterday.”

“Really?” He sounded way too happy about this as he dropped his fishing pole into the water.

I nodded as I picked up my Coke and took a huge drink that burned my throat. “I don’t think he’ll be around for a while.”

“That big of a fight?” Tink cocked his head to the side. “You . . . you didn’t tell him, did you? About what you are?”

There wasn’t a moment where I considered telling him that I had, because there was no point in freaking him out. “I didn’t tell him.”

He studied me for a moment. “Then why did you fight?”

“It’s not something I really want to talk about.” I finished off the Coke and dumped the can in the trash. I looked over at where he stood as something occurred to me. “Why are you this size now?”

“Why not?” he said, hopping along the edge of the counter.

“Because I know you’re not really this size,” I pointed out. “So why are you staying small?”

He shrugged. No answer.

As I watched him hop back along the counter, going in the opposite direction, I thought of something else. “What would you do if I died?”

He stopped, one leg raised. His head turned slowly in my direction. “Why would you even be thinking about that?”

It was my turn to shrug. “I’ve thought about it before, but just . . . you know, with everything going on, there’s a chance. There’s always been a chance, Tink. What would you do?”

Tink opened his mouth and then closed it. His wings drooped. “I don’t know what I’d do,” he said. “I guess I’d have to go find someone else who has Amazon Prime.”

“Nice,” I said, shaking my head. “Seriously. You’d have to leave here eventually, you know? Take on your . . . um, bigger form. Granted, you won’t necessarily blend in that way, but you wouldn’t be the size of a doll with wings.”

Tink was surprisingly serious when he answered, “I know what I’d have to do, Ivy. You don’t need to worry about me.”

A weird sense of relief hit me, and I nodded. I started toward the hall and then stopped again. I turned back to him. “Do you want fish? Like, as a pet? Not to fish for in my sink.”

His eyes widened into little saucers. “You’d get me some if I said yes?”

“Yeah,” I replied, deciding that I would. “I can start you off small. Like with a beta or a goldfish—”

“Can I have a ferret?” he interrupted.

I blinked. “What? No. No ferret.”

Tink pouted as he flew over to the table by the window. “What about a cat? Sometimes I see cats out in the courtyard. I watch videos of them on the YouTube. They seem to be . . . sort of mean, and I kind of like that about them.”

“Tink, a cat would probably eat you if you stay that size.” I paused. “And it would definitely tear one of your wings.”

“Nah.” He planted his hands on his hips. “I think a cat would love me, especially if you get me a kitten and I raise it.”

“Obviously you’ve never been around a cat,” I said dryly. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve raised it—the cat will try to kill you at some point.”

His brows knitted together. “I refuse to believe that.”

I sighed. “How about a tortoise?”

He rolled his eyes. “What would I do with a tortoise?”

“I don’t know.” I threw my hands up. “What would you do with a cat or ferret?”

“Pet it. Hug it. You can’t do that with a damn tortoise.”

“I think you can pet it,” I reasoned.

He rose into the air. “I want something fluffy.”

I shook my head and turned around. “You know, forget I said anything about this—”

“Nope. Not ever going to forget.” He followed after me as I walked down the hall. “I will never forget this. Ever.”

I rolled my eyes as I picked up my purse and then went into the bedroom, dropping my phone into my bag and then weaponing up. “Look, if you had a cat, you’d have to take care of it.”

“I know that.” Tink flew up to the ceiling fan and grabbed one of the blades, dangling from it. “I’d have to get a litter box—preferably one of those self-cleaning ones, and cat toys and—”

As I exited the bedroom, I hit the switch and turned on the fan, grinning when he shrieked.

“That was screwed up!” he shouted as he was flung across the room. “I’d never do that to a kitten!”

“Goodbye, Tink.” I closed the door, shutting him out, and stepped out onto the porch.

Cold air immediately greeted me. Holy crap was it chilly. I was glad I’d grabbed a long-sleeved thermal. What the hell was up with the weather? Normally it was still in the eighties during October.

Making my way through the courtyard, I noticed that some of the vines were withering. I slowed my steps, walking up to the wrought-iron fence. Vines were hardy creations. They lasted all year usually, and I’d only seen them affected once during a severe drought. I scanned the length of the fence. The whole network of vines looked dull and frail. And that was weird, because just a few days ago they were flourishing and taking over everything.