Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
The rattling of tires against a hard ground startles me awake.
“Mine!” I shout as I open my eyes.
“Here, Minnie darling. I’m right here.”
I glance to my side. He’s in the driver’s seat of a car, confidently steering the wheel down a raggedy path. I blink, then look down at myself.
I’m wearing a long cotton gown that’s surprisingly soft to the touch. Over the dress, his jacket rests over my shoulders, providing extra heat even though he knows I don’t need it—he is the one who can get cold, not me.
“Where are we?” I ask groggily.
“Close to the border with France. In fact, we should be there in less than ten minutes.”
“Close to the border?” I furrow my brows. “How long have I been out?”
“Some three days,” he answers casually.
I gawk at him.
“Three days? Did you just say three days?” I take a deep breath as I try to make sense of the situation. But as I open my mouth to speak again, it’s to panic once more. “What do you mean it’s been three days? How is it possible I was out that long?”
“You must have exhausted your energy and needed time to replenish it?—”
“No. I’ve been low on energy before and it’s true that I usually need sleep and food to replenish it, but I’ve never been asleep for three days straight. That is outrageous.”
“You did defeat a high-level demon. Cut yourself some slack. You needed the rest.”
I grumble under my breath, annoyed that he’s right. The fight with that demon took a toll on me, but even so, I clearly remember being tired but not exhausted. I still had plenty of energy to function at normal levels. That I just passed out… It’s odd.
Alas, now I am invigorated and my energy is brimming.
“So what happened in those three days?” I ask, curious.
“Hmm, let’s see. We evacuated Dresden, and I pretended to be a German soldier saving my dear wife. I do happen to have a flawless accent, so everyone believed it. After we left the city, I bought us a car, some clothes for you, and some food for the road. Then I started driving.”
I stare at him. “You bought things? With what money? You had none.”
He shrugs. “I am resourceful.”
I narrow my eyes at him, thinking what he might have done for that money.
“Well, the dress is nice. You have good taste,” I add reluctantly.
He gasps aloud. “Good Lord, Minnie! Was that a praise? Did you just praise me?”
“Easy now, don’t let it go to your head. You have a big enough ego as it is.”
“It’s certainly bigger now,” he counters with a wink.
“Are you… I hope you’re not using one of those inundations on me.”
He frowns. “Inun—what?”
“Don’t think I didn’t see your pants.” I point out in outrage. “You’re always thinking dirty thoughts, Mine. Why else would your…your…thing be up and an about?” I continue. “I was asleep until moments ago, so don’t tell me you were scheming something with me like this?”
“Up and about?” He blinks in confusion. “He’s not going anywhere, Minnie.”
“Don’t you Minnie me. I was asleep until moments ago, so what were you thinking of me that your thing would get up?”
His chest vibrates with mirth.
“Tell me, Mine. What sort of nefarious designs did you have on my person while I was asleep?”
He’s still chuckling. “Minnie darling, I thought you liked that particular type of nefariousness.”
Images of our night in the ice chamber flood my mind and I blush.
“W-well, y-yes,” I stammer. “When I’m awake and present. I will not have you cheat me out of one of those organisms, Mine.”
“Orgasms,” he corrects. “And innuendos, not inundation.”
“Orgasms, organisms, whatever. You will not cheat me out of them.”
“So let me get this straight,” he starts, turning to me with a serious expression on his face. “You are not actually upset that I might have nefarious designs on you, just that you might miss on an orgasm while asleep?”
“Of course. You promised to give them to me daily. It’s been three days that I was unconscious. So either you gave them to me while I was asleep, which I will take issue with because I did not feel anything and thus they do not count. Or…”
“Or?” He wiggles his brows.
“Or you owe me three days’ worth of orgasms.”
“Then I suppose I am indebted to you,” he adds playfully.
I huff. “Good that you know,” I mutter as I materialize a notebook and a pencil.
He frowns and leans forward to see what I’m scribbling. I give him a deadly glare. He watches intently as I write down the heading.
Debts
Underneath, I write the days he owes me.
“I am holding you accountable,” I tell him as I close the notebook and materialize it away.
“You’re so thorough, tiny darling. You should add some interest, too.”
“Interest?” I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Every day I’m late for paying my debt, you add more to it.”
“More?”
He nods with a smile.
“Good idea. More is always good.”
“I’ve turned you into a pleasure fiend!” he exclaims in feigned outrage, his lips curled up in satisfaction.
“I’m glad you recognize your part in this because you must take responsibility.”
Another bout of laughter.
“I said I’d marry you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. But since that is not a ceremony officiated by a high priestess who solidifies the union between two people, how will this marriage you speak of be official?”
“Simple. My father will officiate it. He can make it very official.”
“What does that mean?”
“He can make it so that it’s not contested in any world, or in any life. We’d be bound, forever.”
“Impossible.”
“I can assure you, he knows his stuff.” He winks at me.
“No, it is impossible to be bound forever. For that, we’d have to be true mates and we, though it pains me to admit, are not.”
He glances at me, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“And how would you know if we were?”
“According to rumors I’ve heard, true mates get initially bound together after they exchange blood. Their union is then cemented after they consummate the bond. We’ve shared blood before, and nothing happened.”
“So you’re saying we are not fated to be?” He raises a brow, his voice tense.
I shrug. “I don’t care whether we are or not. I chose you, didn’t I?”
Would it have been ideal if we were fated? Yes. But I would be satisfied with living a full loving life alongside him
“Maybe. But what if your true mate came along at some point?”
“Nothing would happen since I’m not about to share blood with anyone else. Ever,” I answer truthfully.
“But it must go beyond blood sharing. You must have an affinity with that person from the moment you meet.”
“No, that will not happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I cut my thread of fate, all right? That means I don’t have any mate in this universe. Not now, not ever.”
He’s silent for a moment.
“When?” he asks softly.
“When I was away. I found out it might be the only way to be with you and?—”
“You risked everything, didn’t you?” he murmurs in a low, pained voice.
“Maybe I did. But I’m here, am I not?” I give him a tremulous smile. “I’m here and your father will officiate our wedding and we’ll live happily ever after.”
“Oh, Minnie,” he adds in a ragged voice. “What have you done?”
“It’s fine,” I mutter.
“No. It’s not fine. It will never be fine, no matter how much this needed to happen.” He takes a deep breath. “I wish things were simpler. That we could be together without the entire universe being against us.”
“Well, what is done is done,” I say, a little weirded out by his ominous words. “But on the bright side, it’s not the entire universe that’s against us since no one knows about us.”
He bites his lip, lost in thought. “For now.”
“For as long as we can keep it that way.”
He sighs.
“I love how optimistic you are when you, better than anyone, know just how much this, being here, with me, is going to cost you.”
I shrug, though his words root themselves in my mind.
“I knew the risk when I did it.”
“And you did it anyway…” he trails off. “Minnie, Minnie…” There’s something odd about him. I frown as I try to decipher the expression on his face. It’s a mix of sadness and resignation, but I don’t understand exactly why he would feel that.
“I hate how much you have to sacrifice for me. But I’m also so damn selfish that I wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as you’re mine…” He presses his lips together as he stares at the road ahead.
Slowly, he glances at me and gives me a sweet, sad smile.
“That probably makes me a horrible person.”
“It makes you human.”
He shakes his head. “If you only knew…” His voice drops an octave.
“What? What should I know?”
“Never mind.”
“What?” I repeat. “You can’t just say that and not continue.”
He’s silent for a moment, so I badger him some more.
“In a perfect world, I would have shouldered all your burdens. I would have loved you, protected you, and kept you in a tight cocoon close to my heart where no one could hurt you.”
“Might I remind you I am the powerful goddess here?” I ask drily. He doesn’t mind me as he continues.
“But it’s not a perfect world. And one thing I’ve realized in the time I’ve lived without you, waiting for you, is that some things just…must happen. If not, we would not become who we are meant to become.”
“Mine, what are you on about? You’re not making any sense. Did you perchance hit your head? Do you need blood?”
He chuckles. “You don’t need to understand me now.”
“But I want to.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Tell me.”
He smiles indulgently at me.
“There are some events in our lives that define us—that make us who we are and prepare us for who we are meant to be. I may hate the fact that you interfered with your fate. But that in itself is perhaps part of your fate.”
“Isn’t that circular logic?”
“Ah, my Minnie is so smart,” he coos as he pats my head affectionately.
I push his hand aside and punch him lightly—he’s human, after all—in the shoulder.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“How about I pause it then? We’re at the border.” He nods to the militia cars waiting up ahead.
“Will we have any issues? We don’t have any papers.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He drives to the barrier and stops. A couple Frenchmen dressed in military uniform come toward us, and one of them knocks on the window.
Mine lowers it and smiles affably at the soldiers.
“ Bonjour ,” he drawls in perfect French. Just how many languages does he speak? His German was perfect, too.
I pay close attention to his words, managing to understand some of what he’s saying.
He claims we got robbed and we lost our papers, but he has proof of his identity. When the soldiers ask about the proof, Mine only says to call his superior, who then should call his superior until he reaches the Army General and say Lucien de Vitry is asking for safe passage into France.
Skeptical, one of the soldiers walks back to his outpost to make the call. The other soldier waits by our car, surveying us suspiciously.
“And she? Who is she?” He points at me.
“My wife.”
I preen at the words.
“ Oui, je suis sa pousse ,” I say in a haughty voice in French. I might not be fluent in it, but I am quite good at it since I happen to love French cinema too.
Mine turns to look at me, blinking repeatedly.
The soldier stares at me, too.
I frown. “What?” I mouth to Mine.
“ Elle est anglaise ,” Mine adds apologetically as he turns to the soldier. He starts laughing and nods at him.
“No, I am not,” I blurt out.
The soldier stops laughing, his eyes widening. His hands are suddenly on his rifle and he gets into position.
“ Non, non. Vous n’avez pas besoin de dégainer votre arme. Elle est juste très mauvaise en francais et n’a pas compris ,” Mine quickly says. “Right, Minnie? You only speak English.”
Mine glares at me and I slowly nod. “Yes,” I say in my best English accent. “I only speak English. I apologize if I said something wrong.”
The soldier does not seem convinced.
“ Sortez de la voiture ,” he barks out. “ Mettez les mains où je peux les voir .” He takes a step back and points his rifle at us.
“What’s going on?”
The soldier lets out a loud whistle and more men in uniform come out of their outposts, all of them with their weapons raised.
“Minnie,” Mine starts in a tense voice. “Can you get the car to fly over the barricade?”
“Yes, of course.” Though that will require quite a bit of energy.
“Good. And a shield. We’ll need a shield.”
“I can do that,” I say and create a shield around the car.
His lips are a thin line of tension.
“When I give the signal, we fly.”
I nod and gather my energy, letting it surround the car.
The soldier who’d left before comes back, confused to see everyone pointing their weapons at us.
“ Repos ,” he calls out, his voice thundering. The he follows with, “ Il est le fils de Ciel de Vitry .”
The soldiers look at one another for a few more tense seconds before they holster their rifles.
“Apologies, Mr. de Vitry. You may go,” the man says with a salute.
“Thank you,” Mine replies.
The barricade is raised, and our car continues on.
A mile or so after we’ve crossed into French territory, I turn to him.
“Explain! What just happened?”
Mine shakes his head, his lips curled up in amusement. “You said pousse instead of épouse .”
“So?”
“It means sprout. You said you were my sprout.”
“Oh,” I whisper.
He laughs.
“At least now I know your vocabulary mishaps extend to languages other than English.”
I glare at him. “I hope you’re not laughing at me.”
“I am not. You are just too adorable. Even when you’re about to get us shot at, you’re adorable.”
He might have said something else in that sentence of his, but all I can hear is adorable.
Mine thinks I’m adorable.
I smile to myself. He’s a smart one, all right.
In fact, I’m so happy at his praise that I forget everything I wanted to ask him about—like who Ciel de Vitry is.
It takes us another three hours to get to the mysterious location he calls his safe haven.
All the while, he’s extremely tight-lipped about what I’m going to find there, making me more and more curious.
We reach two sprawling metal gates with intricate designs consisting of skulls and scenes of eternal torture. Almost at will, they open and Mine drives on, following a serpentine driveway toward one of the most stunning mentions I’ve seen in Anthropa.
From afar, I note the sheer magnificence of the four-story building. The facade is reminiscent of those gothic cathedrals I loved to visit back in England, but the overall shape is square and angular. Where those cathedrals had high domes and ribbed vaults, his home has none.
Yet there’s something almost magical about it.
“This is it,” Mine declares as we get out of the car. His voice is reserved, bordering on bashful.
“You’re nervous,” I note immediately. “Why?”
He’s taken aback by my question and he gives me a reserved shrug.
“I built this,” he mutters, low and barely audible.
“You…” I look from him to the mansion then back at him. “You?”
He nods. “It was a personal project.”
“Then you did these, too?” I ask as I point to the art on the main facade of the building.
Another nod.
I walk closer until I can reach out and touch the bass-relief carvings in the stone with my own hands.
My breath almost leaves my body as I trace the characters of the odyssey. It all starts at the bottom, with scenes of friendship, of war, and of longing for love.
“Minnie…”
“Shush,” I say, not looking at him.
Using my energy, I float up so I can see the second part of the story.
More battles, some ending in victory, some in defeat. There is companionship, family, but also a sense of loneliness.
It’s at the third level that another motif appears.
Pain, illness, and loss.
The scenes depict a plague sweeping through the land and killing the hero’s friend. He, too, succumbs to the illness, but he eventually survives.
And there is only one reason why he kept on going.
Love. He was waiting for that one person he could call his. Even when his illness was too painful and the will to live nonexistent, he still prayed that his beloved would come.
Then I reach the end.
I’m almost scared of what I’m going to see. So far, I recognize the many chapters of Mine’s life and how important they were. He’s spoken about waiting for someone special too, so this is nothing new.
But in the last scene of the carving, there is a meeting.
She gives him her heart. He gives her his soul.
“Who?” My voice is carried by the wind until he can hear me. “Who is this?”
As I lower myself to the ground, I come face-to-face with him.
“The woman I was waiting for. The only one who could save me from damnation.” He pauses. “You.”
“But how did you know?—”
“I did and didn’t,” he interrupts me. “I trusted that fate would bring you to me, and she did.”
“You’re such a charmer,” I grumble, though I am beyond pleased.
Of course I wouldn’t have expected anything else from him. Only a male worthy of me would have worshipped me before we even met.
“Show me the rest of the house. You said there are more surprises?” I ask, my eyes glistening with excitement.
Perhaps he will have a personal chef who can cook me all the pastries in the world. Now that would be the best surprise. I’m already hungry. How long has it been since I last ate? Four days? More? Outrageous!
The doors open and we step inside.
The first thing that strikes me is the sheer minimalist decor that’s somehow paradoxically shrouded in opulence. Sprawling staircase, black and gray marble columns, as well as four human-sized sculptures that look like antiques.
Everything is gleaming and spotlessly clean. The floors are so polished, I almost feel bad stepping inside.
“Come,” Mine says as he grabs my hand and takes me up the stairs. I let him lead me, though my attention is on every detail of his house, trying to make sense of what that says about him.
So far, one thing matches. Cleanliness. His obsession with cleanliness matches his house, too. There is not one corner that is not sparkling clean, in a way that I doubt even most Aperite houses are—and those deities can snap their fingers and clean everything.
“Where to next?”
“The first level houses the master suite.”
The first floor has a long hallway filled with all types of antiques. I’m not that versed in Anthropan art or history, so I don’t know if they are genuine or not. But they look old.
At the end of the hallway, there is only one door. Mine leaves me alone for a moment while he takes exactly five steps to the right and six backward, his steps thudding hard against the hardwood floor. The rhythm appears to be a code of some sort because as he stops, I hear a low ping in the wall. He reaches toward one painting, and pulling it aside, he reveals a secret compartment that houses a row of keys.
“I take my privacy very seriously,” he adds when he sees my questioning expression.
Unlocking the door, he holds it open for me to step inside.
I expected to see his bedroom. Instead, it seems to be yet another foyer that leads into a waiting room. This one is much more intimate. Though the ground floor seemed rather cold and bare, this part of the house is fully furnished and exudes a sense of warmth.
“The layout of your house is confusing,” I say when I, once more, don’t see his bedroom.
“It’s not. Think of this as an apartment within the house. This is the waiting room. Through that door there is the study and the library.” He points to the nearest door to my right. “Those two doors right there are the bedrooms, with a large bathroom in the middle. There’s also?—”
“Bedrooms?” I interrupt him. “More than one?”
“Technically, though the second one does not really qualify as a second bedroom since there is no bed. Come.” He grabs my hand and drags be toward the room he claims to be the master bedroom.
“This is huge,” I whisper when he opens the door.
A large double bed is in the middle. Actually, I think it might be double-double, not just double. So double I could swim in it. Before he can say anything else, I forget myself and let my instincts run the show as I dash at full speed toward the bed and throw myself on it.
A giggle escapes me when I sink into the plush mattress, only to resurface as I spring back in the air. My, that’s a strong mattress. I bounce around the bed. Mindful of his love of cleanliness, I shed my shoes and then get to my feet and jump up and down.
“Oh my, Mine! This is such a good mattress.”
His mouth is ajar as he stares at me.
“Minnie, I’m not sure?—”
“Come! This is so much fun!”
He shakes his head and for a moment he hesitates. But my lips tug into a wide smile when I see him carefully take off his shoes. Then he shrugs his dusty coat off. Then he also takes his socks off—I probably should have done that too. Finally, he comes over.
Yet it’s almost as if he’s reluctant to get on the bed.
Grabbing his hands, I tug him forward until he loses his balance and has no choice but to fall on the bed. He seems stunned at first, but he quickly recovers and charges at me.
I jump back, aided by the strong springs of the mattress. I bounce on the bed and make him bounce up and down in return too.
“See? This is fun!”
He mumbles something under his breath that is along the lines of ‘typical Minnie.’ But then he gives me a bright smile and he pulls me into his arms. Together, we crash into the mattress and we bounce up and down a couple more times before we stop.
“You like the mattress, I gather?” he asks in a low voice that sends shivers down my spine.
“It’s so bouncy. I love it!”
“Good, because you’ll be sleeping here.”
“H-here?” I turn in his embrace and shyly look up at him. “Together?”
“Of course. There’s no other bed.”
“Well, I suppose it will be easier for you to pay your daily tribute if we sleep next to each other,” I murmur, batting my lashes suggestively at him—I think I’ve finally mastered this art!
“Damn right. I also have quite the accumulated interest to pay.” He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck, slowly trailing his lips over my flesh.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Three days and counting.”
“I think we should not count in days.”
“What?”
“Hours. Let’s do hours. Three days is seventy-two hours. I have seventy-two hours of overdue payment. That’s quite a lot, isn’t it?”
“Oh my, that is indeed a lot. Do you plan to pay for all those seventy-two hours?”
“Let’s not forget the other hours in between that will keep adding up while we sleep and eat.”
“So every hour I don’t get an orgasm is an orgasm owed?” I ask huskily, liking the idea of this. Before, I would have called him a pervert. Now I declare him a genius.
“Yes, and I get my treat, too, between those pretty legs of yours, right where I belong.”
“I guess you’d better start paying your debt.”
I grab onto him, holding tight as I push my body against him. But just as I think I’ll finally get one of those delicious orgasms that gives me extra strength, something else happens.
My stomach growls in hunger.
Mine pulls back, a worried expression on his face.
“I haven’t eaten in four days,” I confess.
“Fuck!” He lets out a string of curses as he hauls me off the bed. “I need to feed you. The kitchen is downstairs.”
He doesn’t let me have a say as he takes me in his arms and carries me back downstairs.
The kitchen is right by the staircase, and to my surprise, this area is also spotless.
That’s when I finally think to ask.
“Is there anyone else around?” I say with a frown. I cannot hear anyone in the house or on the grounds.
“Who would be here?”
“Staff? Workers?”
“No. There’s only me. I don’t like foreign people in my space.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter drily. “But who takes care of the grounds? And the house? This is so big it must require at least ten to twenty workers maintaining it on a regular basis.” The kitchen, too, is industrial in size—almost as big as the one at the military base. To my disappointment, there is no private chef waiting to cook me a special meal.
“No. It’s just me and occasionally my family comes over,” he says.
I’m still confused. “You’ve been away for months, Mine. How is this so…clean?” I point to the gleaming tiles and the spotless steel appliances that reflect my appearance—which is rather disheveled and should be fixed sometime soon.
“Oh, that…” he trails off nervously. “My mother must have done it. She comes in every week on Saturdays to clean and oversee the estate. She’s the only person I’d trust to clean my place.”
“I see.” Though I don’t really.
I jump out of his arms and go to the fridge, then open it to find it fully stocked with food.
Odd.
The meat and produce are both fresh. The cheese, too.
Another growl from my famished stomach. Ah, but that cheese looks good. I take it out of the fridge and take a bite out of it before I can help myself.
“Do you want me to cut some for you?” Mine asks.
“No, don’t worry. I can eat it like this.” I grab another bite. Hmm, I wonder what type of cheese this is. I can taste some nuts in it, and it’s quite creamy, not at all like that hard English cheddar.
“Are you sure? I can cut you a few slices and give you some bread.”
I shake my head. Why bother when I can just bite into it like this?
I’m halfway done with the block of cheese when I suddenly stop mid-chewing.
The sound of another set of footsteps reverberates through the house.
It’s close, far too close. And I was so damn focused on this cheese I barely realized another person had made it onto the grounds.
Sloppy, Minnie! What if it is an enemy? Surely cheese isn’t more important…
Yes, it is.
“You said there’s no one here.” I tilt my head to the side, listening to the sound as it approaches.
“It’s not…” he trails off as he hears the sound too.
“Mine, what day is today?” I think to ask right as I pocket the rest of the cheese.
A guilty look flashes on his face. He hadn’t thought of it, had he?
“What day is it?” I repeat, this time with rising panic.
“Saturday.”
By the Source, can the earth split open and swallow me now?
The last thing I needed is to meet his mother. I’m not only disheveled after three days of traveling in a car, I’m probably also a little—a lot—smelly and in need of a good scrub.
What will she think of me? That I’m some homeless beggar her son picked up on the streets?
I squeeze my eyes shut in defeat just as the kitchen door opens and someone steps inside.
“Mother.”