Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
My back hits the plush mattress before I can even think it through. Panic takes over and instead of facing Mine’s mother as I should have, I’m hiding in his room.
But I have a good reason for doing so!
How could I meet his mother for the first time while looking and smelling like a sewer rat?
It’s his mother. I need to make a good impression on her. Based on how he’s been speaking about her, it’s clear Mine loves her dearly and as such, he would also be partial to her opinions.
Not that I think she would convince him to leave me. Mine would never .
But she could try.
She could think I’m some homeless bum who’s trying to get with him for his status. He is a rather decorated airman, and a recent POW, too. Add to that the fact that his family is wealthy—only someone very influential would be able to ensure our border crossing so smoothly. His father’s name was the only thing necessary for us to be allowed to cross even when we looked rather…suspicious.
He’s rich. They are rich. She’ll think I’m trying to get his money. It’s not like he can tell her about my real identity and the fact that I am a princess in my own right—his money does not faze me. Though certainly, money seems to make life easier here in Anthropa and since we will be living here from now on, I suppose I am quite lucky that he is rich.
That is not to say I’m with him for his money. Him first, money second.
Now how do I make a good impression, though? First, I have to get clean, of course.
Remembering which door Mine had said was the bathroom, I go inside. Of course it would be enormous, with the biggest tub I’ve ever seen in the middle of the room.
Shedding my clothes, I throw them into a basket that I assume is for dirty laundry before I go straight for the bathtub. I don’t even care for the water temperature. It can be freezing cold for all I care as long as it washes the grime off my body so I can look semi-decent for that meeting.
Yet as I start furiously scrubbing my skin, I can’t help but tune in my hearing to what’s going on downstairs.
“What a surprise to find you here, dear!” His mother’s voice is soft and melodic. There is some shuffling as she walks closer to him and what I assume to be a hug.
I force myself to disregard the fact that another female is touching him.
She’s his mother, Minerva. Stop being so outrageous.
“I did not realize today was Saturday,” Mine mumbles awkwardly.
“That’s right. Last I heard, you were in that awful camp. How was it, by the way?”
“Awful as you can expect. Though the males there were all valiant and resilient.”
“And you had enough food?”
“Of course. You know those camps. There’s always food.”
“Good, good. I know why this had to happen, but I hate it for you nonetheless.”
“We just got here, actually,” Mine cuts her off.
“We?”
“Yes. Minnie is with me. Though I don’t know where she’s off to at the moment.”
“I’m going to meet her? Finally? That is such good news, dear. I am so excited about it. I should let your father know too so he can come. Maybe organize a feast. There should be food in the fridge, but perhaps she’d like something else. I can?—”
“Mom,” Mine says affectionately. “Why don’t you meet her first before bringing Father along? I think she’s rather…anxious about meeting you.”
“Anxious? Why would she be? You’ve told her not to worry, no? I’ve heard so much about her so far that I think I already know her. You have no idea how excited I am that she’s finally here.”
“Just… This once, all right? Next time she can meet Father too.”
A pause.
“I suppose. I should at least prepare something to eat?”
Immediately, I take a liking to her.
Yes, please! Make something yummy for me to eat because I’m starving!
“Maybe later. I should check on Minnie first?—”
“No!” I yelp out, jumping out of the bathtub. How dare he postpone my food?
“What was that, dear?” his mother asks.
“Nothing. I think some food would be nice.”
“Is Minnie partial to anything?”
“She loves sweet things. And she only eats beef.”
“I can make a steak and some rice to go along. Do you think she’d like that?”
And some dessert? Maybe, hopefully?
“I’m sure she would. I think we have some cherry jam. Do you mind making some donuts too?”
“Of course not.”
I sigh in relief. Food is coming. Oh my, but his mother is so nice. I already love her. Well, almost -love her. I’ll reserve judgment until I see how good her donuts are.
But until then I should make sure I’m presentable.
I lather myself in soap two more times so I’m particularly clean. The last thing I need is for his mother to have a similar obsession with cleanliness and judge me for being dirty.
Perhaps I do go a little overboard with scrubbing my skin until it’s red and tender, but that quickly heals and I’m as good as new.
Using some energy, I dry my hair and comb it perfectly in place. To my surprise, the bathroom has everything I might need, including some feminine products I’ve never heard of.
That perfect male. He thought of everything, didn’t he?
Smiling to myself, I grab my dress and proceed to try to wash it. Although I get out most of the smell, it still has some oil stains from the car that will simply not come out.
Sighing, I put it on and mentally prepare myself to go downstairs.
But just as I’m about to leave the bathroom, I notice there’s another door on the other end. Though pressed for time, curiosity gets the best of me and I open it.
This must be the second room Mine mentioned, I think to myself as I step inside. My eyes widen in shock as I take in the sheer size of it. It’s perhaps twice as big as the bedroom, and it’s filled with things—feminine things. Are these his mother’s by any chance? Yet the more I look around, the more I doubt that.
There are tens if not hundreds of gowns hung tidily in an open closet, with a couple of spectacular pieces worn by mannequins. On the other side, there are rows and rows of shoes, each pair more beautiful than the other. And then at the end of the room there is a wall covered in jewelry cases.
I’m…speechless.
Tentatively stepping inside, I stop in front of the first mannequin. It’s wearing a long burgundy dress. The bodice has a square neckline and a tight corset while the skirt flows out, aided by the countless layers of lace and material underneath.
Yet what strikes me immediately is the fact that it appears to be my size. And to confirm, I gauge my waist with my palm length and then do the same with the dress.
It fits.
Confused, I check the other dresses. All are in my size, some of them almost as if they were custom made so that the waist is small while the upper bodice is more generous for my chest.
I gulp down, a wave of emotions rolling over me.
Did he…did he do this for me?
These are some of the most exquisite clothes I’ve ever seen.
Turning to the shoe wall, I grab a couple random pairs and slip them on. If they all fit, then these are for me.
I try pair after pair, and not surprisingly, they all fit.
My heart beats loudly in my chest and my eyes fill with tears. He did this for me.
I don’t know when he did it, or why, or even how. How did he even know my sizes so well? But a deep sense of awe and appreciation fills me.
For someone who’s not very concerned about clothes or shoes, or even jewelry—although I do like pretty things like any other female—the sight of this room fills me with more joy than I’ve ever felt in my life. But it’s not for the material things. It’s for the meaning behind them.
He thought of me. Even when I doubted he did, he thought of me.
He never stopped thinking of me.
The door behind me opens again and he steps into the room. So lost in my thoughts I was that I let my guard down and he snuck up on me. I didn’t hear him. Not when the loudest sound in this room was my thudding heart.
“I planned to show you this a little later,” he mentions.
I slowly turn and wipe the moisture from my lashes.
“When did you do this?”
He shrugs. “Here and there, while I was waiting for you.”
My brows go up. “You bought so much in so little time?”
Another shrug. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like an eternity.”
I gulp down. “Thank you.”
“My mother is making food. Why don’t you choose one of these dresses and come down with me to meet her?”
I nod slowly. He doesn’t ask me why I bolted when I did, as if he already knew my deepest thoughts and worries.
“How about this one?” he asks as he picks a blue day dress.
“I want the red,” I say as I point to the same dress but in red.
“Blue is my favorite. Wear it for me?” His voice is soft, warm. How can I refuse him?
I take it and shed my dress so I can put it on. Mine comes around to zip me up at the back.
“And these shoes?” He holds up a pair of black slippers.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He leads me out of the room and down the main stairs toward the ground floor. My anxiety is all but gone as I stare up at his handsome profile. There’s a fluttering in my lower stomach that I would have confused for hunger in the past, but now I know better. It’s him; my reaction to him; everything he makes me feel.
It’s only him. And a little bit of hunger, but that’s almost forgotten at this point.
We head toward the dining room, and I’m surprised to see the table has already been set up. There is a basket of bread on the table, a tray full of juicy steak that’s having me salivate on the spot and another tray filled with roast potatoes. Although I’m starving, it’s not the food that has my full attention.
It’s the platter of donuts at the end of the table. Just as promised, his mother made donuts from scratch. Though I know they are filled with cherry jam, I’m surprised to see the chocolate drizzled on top of them.
Of course I can’t be a heathen and start with dessert. I must show her my best side, and that means highlighting how good I am for her son, how proper and polite.
Nodding to myself, I straighten my back and try to momentarily forget about the donuts.
“Mother,” Mine says as his mother enters the dining room, carrying a platter with a variety of cheeses.
I slowly turn, plastering a polite smile on my face as I curtsy—perhaps that’s a little overkill, but if it wins me points…?
I might have seen her before in the divining mirror, but seeing her in the flesh is completely different. She’s slightly taller than me and very slender. Dressed in a dark green dress that reaches her ankles, she has a thick belt wrapped around her waist, emphasizing how slight she is.
Her hair is a dark brown like Mine’s, her face small and dainty with huge blue eyes and pouty lips. Yet even more surprising is how young she looks. One would think she’s his sister, not his mother.
“You must be Minnie,” she says with an affable smile on her face. “I am Rità. I am so happy to finally meet you.”
“Hello, Rità,” I greet softly. “It’s good to meet you too. Your son has told me so much about you.” How do I even call him? Lucien? Valerion? I can’t very well call him Mine in front of his mother, no?
“He has? That’s news to me.” Her brows go up as she sneaks a glance at Mine.
“Just that I take after you, Mom.” He winks.
“Thank you so much for the food. You didn’t have to bother,” I add a small platitude.
“It was no bother! Valerion told me you helped him escape that wretched place. For that alone I must thank you.”
“It was nothing.” I wave my hand. “He would have handled it without me too. Your son is a great warrior,” I say, a genuine praise. Glancing at Mine, I note a slight blush on his cheeks.
“That he is. I’ve always been proud of his achievements, though I don’t like how often he puts himself in danger. Especially with his health…”
“I’m fine, Mom. I told you there’s nothing to worry about,” he adds in a pointed tone as if there’s something more to the conversation I’m not aware of.
“He’s told me about his illness and so far he hasn’t had another episode.”
“He…has?” His mother blinks in surprise. “You have?” she asks, this time addressing him directly.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I figured this time she should know.”
I frown. “This time? What does that mean?”
Mine gives me a smile. “Nothing of consequence.”
“Why don’t we sit down and eat?” his mother interjects.
Still a little confused, I follow suit and sit at the table. Mine, ever the perfect gentleman, grabs my plate and fills it with beef and potatoes. He cuts each item into small pieces so it can cool off, forgetting I don’t need any help on that front. Still, his gesture is duly noted and I graze my fingers against his when I accept the plate back.
The urge to dig in is overwhelming, but I temper myself. This isn’t about showing what a starving animal I am. On the contrary, this is about making a good impressing on his mother and showing her what a polite lady I am.
“Valerion tells me you worked as a nurse in the war?”
“Yes, that is correct.” I grab one small bite of meat and place it in my mouth, then chew slowly, properly…demurely.
“Awful thing, this war. I’m so happy it’s about to end.”
“It is?” That is news to me.
His mother glances quickly at Mine before she clears her throat.
“The Allies have invaded much of Germany. It is only a matter of time before it surrenders.”
“I suppose so. Though there is something odd about this war…” I muse aloud.
“Odd?” Rità frowns.
“You may speak freely, Minnie. My mother knows about my particular abilities.”
“She does? And she believes you?” I lean in to whisper. From what I have gleaned from my time in Anthropa, very few humans are accepting of the supernatural. Most of them pretend it’s only a fanciful notion or that the people who believe in it must be mad.
He nods. “She’s actually an academic on the topic of the occult.”
“She…is? You never mentioned.”
That’s odd. Shouldn’t he have said something about it at some point? We’ve been dealing with facets of the occult since we met, and there were numerous times when we would have needed more information. Someone with her background could have helped us.
He shrugs and gives me a silent smile. “It must have slipped my mind.”
I blink and furrow my brows. That’s not something to slip one’s mind, is it?
“Then there are people who study the supernatural in your world?” I ask.
“Something like that.” He chuckles.
“That’s how you knew about the museum, then?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know about Aperion, too?”
“She can hear you, you know. You can ask her yourself.”
I sneak a glance at his mother and she’s regarding me with a pleasant smile.
“Did you tell her about me?”
“Of course not,” he quickly adds in the same low voice. “I would never do that without your approval.”
“Good. You’re a good male.” I pat him on the back affectionately.
“You may tell her however much you want, but I can assure you she is trustworthy.”
“She’s your mother. Of course I would never think to doubt her.”
That makes him smile. He grabs my hand and lays a kiss on my knuckles.
“If I may ask,” his mother begins, “what is it about this war that you think is odd?”
“I am not sure yet, but when we were at that prisoner camp, I detected some strong runes. Demonic in origin.”
His mother stops eating, slowly laying her cutlery down.
“Demonic, you say?”
I nod. “I did not recognize them, and I have not yet had the chance to look further into what that could mean. But I think it might have to do with the rumors that those Germans are running extermination camps. I am not sure how much you know about demons, but most of them feed on souls and?—”
Rità stops me. “I am aware. There are a few covens of witches that have declared themselves demon hunters, though without much success over the years.”
I nod. “Depending on the type of demon, they can be very hard to kill. Especially if they are a Son of Tenebreis, natural-born demons,” I mutter, disdain dripping from my words.
His mother strains a smile. “And why do you think demons might be involved?”
“I am not sure. But demons have always been drawn to conflict due to the large number of deaths. The Sons of Tenebreis are said to use those made demons to get stronger so they can finally escape their prison realm. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe the SoT are trying to create more conflicts so they can consume more souls.”
“The only issue I would have with that is the fact that people were not killed in cold blood at my camp. Sure, there were those who tried to escape, but otherwise, we were left alone.”
“Perhaps your camp, but I have heard rumors of medical experiments.”
“What type of experiments?”
Rità straightens her back and leans forward.
“Underground laboratories where disgraced doctors perform all types of tests. Some of them are merely biological, testing the limits of the human body. But others…” She glances at Mine. “I have heard from some sources that they are trying to see what happens after death.”
“How would they do that?”
“By killing someone and then reviving them.”
“How is that possible?” I blink in confusion.
“There are some ways to momentarily stop the heart,” Mine explains. “Freezing temperatures can do that to the human body. If submerged in freezing water, the heart eventually stops. If the body is then immediately taken out and electric impulses are sent to the heart, the person can, technically, revive from the dead.”
“What?” I whisper, shocked. “I have never heard of anything like that.”
“There are cases in which this type of death occurs naturally, which is why we have accounts of people’s experiences of the afterlife,” his mother explains.
That only makes me more confused. Life and death are black and white. There are no shades of gray in the middle. No dying and coming back—under any circumstances. Well…technically, there is no coming back if we’re talking about mortals. There are other ways to come back, one being as a made-demon, or as one of those rare vampires created by the House of Skia.
“But…” My brows knit together. “If they are to go to the afterlife, that would mean they would follow a messenger to P’asala. They cannot return once they do that.”
“They can and they do,” Rità mentions. “I’ve seen it in my research. In fact, I’ve interviewed a great number of people who’ve experienced these near-death episodes and they all described similar things. They recall being led down a long, barren road toward an unknown destination and seeing some type of apparitions before being yanked back into their bodies.”
“That…”
“I can only conclude that it must not be their time to die yet and thus they are allowed to return to their bodies while their mortal biology still allows it.”
I mull on her words for a moment. Although it seems impossible to believe, there is a logical explanation to it. Mistakes happen, as evidenced by my interference with fate. And the House of Moirai is always striving to fix those mistakes. If the mortal in question can still survive in their original body, then it stands to reason that the House of Moirai would send them back. Given that the messengers are not sentient beings, they cannot stop a soul from being sent back by a higher power.
What strikes me the most is the fact that I was never taught any of this. If Rità interviewed multiple people who experienced this, then it’s not a one-off phenomenon. Why was I never told this could happen?
I also assume that since the soul exits in P’asala and returns to its original realm, it once more becomes vulnerable to demon attacks. For this reason alone, we should have been taught about it.
“You think they are experimenting with killing people and reviving them?” I ask carefully. If that is true, it could change everything
“Yes, though I am still trying to understand what the aim is,” she notes with a sigh.
My hand tightens around the fork before it falls onto the plate, a thud echoing in the room.
“Minnie?”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I mutter, suddenly getting up. A wave of dizziness assails me as I stumble forward. Strong arms catch me, pulling me into his embrace.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice worried.
His mother jumps out of her seat, coming toward me and regarding me with concern.
“You know what they’re trying to do,” she mentions quietly.
I nod.
Mine strokes his hand down my back in soothing motions while I regain the ability to speak.
“A low-level demon usually possesses a mortal while slowly consuming their soul,” I start. “But what if…” I gulp down uneasily. “What if they didn’t consume the soul and merely suppressed it. What if they cohabited with it in the same body?”
“Then if the body dies, they both…” Mine trails off.
“If, and without proper proof, this is merely a theory, but if the demon finds a way to bind to the soul while it’s being led toward P’asala, then it has a direct path to Aperion.”
“But wouldn’t other deities hunt down the demon?”
“They would need to know it could travel to P’asala in the first place. They would never even think to look there because no living demon has ever breached the realm.”
“But that’s only a low-level demon.” He frowns. “Surely they wouldn’t be able to do that much damage.”
“You don’t understand. No pure-blooded Son of Tenebreis can enter Aperion. Every portal has runes to ensure that. But if someone were to remove those runes or override them…”
“The Sons of Tenebreis could invade Aperion.”
“Exactly.”
“But they’re still trapped in their realm. How could they?—”
He suddenly stops and slowly looks over my head toward his mother. “This shouldn’t have happened,” he whispers in shock. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“What are you talking about?” I take a step back and study him. He’s gone utterly still. His mother, too, looks perturbed.
“I’ve messed everything up,” Mine adds with an anguished groan.