Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel) by Cynthia Brint Page B

longer. Standing had a good chance of making me nauseous. “No, it's alright. I just wasn't expecting anyone to show up. I haven't seen anyone all morning.” Or much of yesterday, after my little freak out.
    He bobbed in place, a ribbon on the wind. He was close enough that I could have touched him, I resisted the urge. I wondered how the creature might feel. “Well,” he scoffed, “you did leave a bit of a bad impression yesterday.”
    “I know,” I sighed, trying to meet the thing's tiny beady eyes. “I'm sorry about, you know, screaming at you.”
    He gave an armless shrug. “As I said, a bad impression.” He quickly brightened his tone. “We never were properly introduced. I'm Junlit, Miss Blooms.”
    I smiled uncertainly. “Nice to meet you, Junlit. You can just call me Farra, Miss Blooms is way too formal for me.”
    “Farra,” he said, judging the name. I saw him move, assumed he was looking at the stove over my shoulder. “What were you doing?”
    Blinking, reminded of my task, I climbed to my feet. “I was trying to make breakfast. Do you know how this stove works?”
    “Of course,” Junlit said proudly. I leaned towards him, my excitement flaring. “Just do it like Tessa did. She always used magic, and poof! Fire.”
    I didn't hide my frown. “Right, of course. But I was hoping to use these,” I said, waving the matches.
    Junlit floated close, his knobby eye-stalks wobbling. “Hmn. That's not how she did it.”
    “It is how I'm doing it, though.” Peering at the open stove, I flicked the match to life. I hoped one would be enough, but it ended up taking five before the logs were ablaze.
    Shutting the tiny door, I watched the red heat grow through the tiny glass window. “That should get things hot,” I mused.
    “And then what?”
    Turning, I gestured at my array of ingredients on the counter. “I'll make breakfast when it's hot enough.”
    Junlit didn't sound convinced. “How will you know when that is?”
    “I—well, I guess I'll just...” Hmn, how will I know? I've never used a wood stove before.
    “You know,” the yellow creature said, “Tessa was able to cook right away. The stove was exactly hot enough every time. She always used—”
    “Magic,” I snapped, not hiding my irritation. “Yes, I know. She used magic. I'm using matches , that'll be good enough.”
    He hovered over to the counter, swirling above the eggs. “You're not able to use magic, are you?”
    Lowering my chin, I started cracking the eggs into a big bowl. It was messy, bits of shell landing inside. How do people make this look so easy? “I don't know.”
    “You don't know? ” He sounded horrified. “How could you not know?”
    Chewing my lip, I wiped my sticky hands on my jeans. I need to find the towels, and a trash can. I didn't want to have this conversation with Junlit, but he didn't seem to pick up on my mood. “I just don't know. I guess I assume I can't use it, since I never have before.”
    “Then why on earth are you the one taking care of this house?” he asked, moving so close to my nose that I had to lean backwards.
    I lifted an egg between us. “Do you want breakfast or not?”
    Junlit flitted away, floating over to the bag of flour. “That depends on what you're making. I am hungry, though. Without Tessa, we've all just been scavenging from the larder.”
    “That's why it's so empty.” It wasn't a question. “Wait, Junlit... what were you all going to do if I never came here? Surely you'd have had to start cooking for yourself.”
    He managed to look baffled, a strange sight to witness. “Certainly not. I imagine we'd all have just left when it was clear things weren't improving.”
    I found a whisk in a drawer and began beating the eggs. Junlit wasn't impressed by the bits that went flying out of the bowl, I could tell. “I don't get it, that seems extreme to me. Why not just take care of this place on your own?”
    “Because we can't,” he said, curling into a partial knot.