Chapter 6 New Home #2
Pushing the doors open, they walked into another room that appeared to be for entertainment.
There were couches, multiple large TVs, a few gaming systems, a pool table, and a variety of other things.
While the room was larger than the last, it still didn’t fit the outside.
What also didn’t fit was the fact that they had gone from marble floors to soft, blood-red carpet, and black-and-white striped walls.
Each door they passed through strengthened Cecil’s opinion that the mansion was off.
The colors constantly changed. Reds, greens, yellows, blues, and so much more.
There were arches, columns, wooden floors, shag rugs, and more marble.
It just kept changing. None of the architecture or decor matched—as if rooms from different time periods had been plucked up and smooshed together. “What is with this house?”
“I was wondering when you would notice. Originally, this was a rather small office.” Sin paused and then corrected, “Actually, it was only an outpost, if my memory serves me right. Either way, over the years, additions were added on without care. Very minimal effort was taken to match the architectural aesthetics of the past, and each add-on was created in the style of the time. It got to the point where it was a jumble of hundreds of rooms. It truly appeared to be stitched together. It is one of the reasons my group refers to it as the Makeshift Mansion.”
Stitched together was right. With how many doors they had passed through, Cecil figured he was probably going to get lost. And when they went up a winding staircase, and made several turns, that ‘probably’ became a ‘definitely’.
“Why does the outside all match then?” Cecil asked.
“I’m not sure if you are aware, but in most Zaytari groups, there is only one main branch, with smaller branches of various sizes under it. I changed that when I was awarded my position as the leader of the territory.”
He peered pointedly at Sin, and with genuine interest, he asked, “You were awarded the position? Isn’t it usually passed down?”
“For the most part, you are correct. However, if the previous boss dies without an heir, the next is selected by the current leaders of the other groups. It is the same if the heir is deemed unfit for the job, or simply does not want it.”
“I see.”
“When I assumed the position, I decided it would serve me better to alternate between areas every century or so. I wanted to form closer bonds with my group, and I felt this was one way to achieve that.
“With that decision, I had the task of setting up the two new main offices, located in equal distances around my territory. This was one of the locations. The size of the house had already bypassed that of the original main branch. That alone made it convenient, even with the slightly hazardous layout.”
Sin grinned and admitted, “Truthfully, the main reason was that had I built a new one, this one would have become obsolete. And the members were rather attached. So, instead of rebuilding, I made the outside more presentable, and created offices at the entrance facing the road for the general public.”
Then the outside was an illusion, much like the facades some people put on. Perfect on the outside, but the inside was a jumbled mess. Cecil wondered what other historical details he could find out.
“So, basically, you put the house in a giant shell.”
“Yes,” Sin laughed.
When the man suddenly stopped, Cecil skidded and almost bumped into him.
Sin stood in front of a wooden door with vines carved into it. The way the ropes of leaves and thorns wrapped around it gave the appearance of a binding put there to block the way—or contain something.
“And here we are,” Sin announced before he opened the door and walked in.
The inside went along with the theme of the door. The walls were a pale gray green. Randomly placed dark wood vines creeped from the ceiling and floor, as if they were threatening to overtake the room. The ceiling itself was a giant wood carving.
The floors were made of dark wood, with a large green rug, a few shades darker than the walls, covering part of it from its place under the bed against the far wall. There were, of course, wood dressers and whatnot that matched the floors.
It was bigger than any of the rooms he had ever stayed in, and decoration choices aside, it was pretty nice.
When Sin turned and peered at him expectantly, Cecil cleared his throat and stopped staring from the doorway and went in. Walking around Sin, he gently sat his backpack on the bed.
“I hope it is to your liking, but if not, there are plenty of other rooms for you to choose from.”
“Okay,” Cecil said, while he continued to eye his surroundings.
“I’ll leave you to settle in. Dinner is at seven.
With how easy it is to get lost, I’ll come get you.
Of course, you are welcome to explore. This is your new home.
Though, just a quick warning, the doors with silver knobs are bedrooms. I ask that you please respect the privacy of those who also live here and do not invade their space. ”
Cecil nodded. Sin stood there staring at him, as if trying to figure something out. The man’s quiet observation didn’t last long and soon he nodded, set Cecil’s suitcase down, and left.
Sin disappeared down the hallway and walked through—big surprise—a door. Because Sin had mentioned it, Cecil examined the many doors in the short hall. The knobs were a mixture of gold and silver.
While he would probably still get lost, at least it would be easy to tell which doors led to another part of the house. It was better than nothing, Cecil supposed.
Shoulders sagging, he sighed and closed the door.
He should be happy. If things went well, he wouldn’t have to worry about money for a long stretch of time.
He wouldn’t have to fear ending up on the streets, or getting attacked by the people he robbed.
Cecil should be happy, his life was finally turning around, so why wasn’t he?
Cecil snorted—oh, that’s right, no one in his short, miserable life had ever come through for him. The chances of this lasting were slim. Thoughts of what could happen had his muscles tightening.
Rubbing his thighs nervously, he paused when he felt the outline of a small square through his jeans. Sliding his hand into the tight pocket, Cecil pulled out what was left of the latest Drop. He felt awful that the poor thing had been left in such a way for so long.
Cecil hopped on the bed and grabbed his backpack. Unzipping it, he pulled out a two inch tall, nine inch by six-inch box. The wood was worn and scratched, but it held probably the only thing Cecil considered precious.
A leather belt buckled around the center of the box kept it closed. Undoing the belt, Cecil removed the lid. Inside were hundreds of small white squares, stained and speckled with splashes of reddish brown. Held in order by dividers, they were stacked in neat rows.
“Okay, Drop, it’s time for you to join the others,” Cecil said sadly.
Gently, he placed the square in one of the few rows that still had space. Cecil would have to find a new home for his many Drops soon. Maybe he could get a better box this time—one with an actual latch.
Replacing the lid, Cecil was about to wrap the belt back around it, but a thought had him hesitating. Could he leave it out? If he did, it could be a test on whether someone would go through his stuff.
Okay, Cecil would leave it out, but he would place the lid slightly off, so he’d know if anyone touched it. After setting it up on the dresser to the left of the door, he sat back down on the bed.
What should he do now? Cecil felt a bit lost as he looked around the room once more.
“Cecil,” Sin called out while he knocked on the door of the man’s room. “It’s time for dinner.”
After sounds of rustling came from behind the door, it opened. “I’m not hungry,” Cecil claimed, looking up at him.
Sin started to say that he really should eat, when his gaze zeroed in on the crumbs and what he thought was peanut butter on the young man’s face. Cecil must have noticed where Sin was looking because he hurriedly rubbed his mouth with his sleeve.
“I’m not hungry,” Cecil repeated, his cheeks slightly flushed this time.
Instead of reprimanding him for what was no doubt a habit, Sin peered past him. Peeking out behind the bed was Cecil’s suitcase. It was open, and he could just see the corner of a loaf of bread. It explained why Cecil had been so protective of it.
Gaze returning to the young man, Sin smiled. “Cecil, no one will deny you food here, or take it away. I understand your reluctance to trust us, but I would appreciate it if you would give us a chance, and in the future, have dinner with us. It is the one meal that we try to share together.”
Cecil was no longer meeting his eyes. He was staring at his feet. “I’ll think about it…” he mumbled.
“That’s all I ask. I will say, if you would, please be careful of crumbs.”