Chapter 7 #2
Luckily, I was spared from having to continue this embarrassing conversation when the door opened at the far end of the room.
“Melinda, let me show you to your room.”
She stood and went after him with a knowing look in my direction.
I fell in behind them, following at a distance, curious to hear what he had to say and to see this part of the house.
Unlike the front and side wings, which were barren and neglected, this section was warmer, lacking the holes made by broken windows.
I could feel warm air coming from somewhere.
The room I caught a glimpse of as we passed had furniture, complete with leaded glass windows, heavy drapes, and rugs.
Everything looked well-maintained. Was the front simply a ruse to keep trespassers from knowing this was a habited place?
Yes, Corvus, you are onto my secret.
But why? You could just turn any trespassers into animals and keep them here as company.
I only do that on special occasions.
Hmm. I would think about that later. He opened a recessed door and waved us inside.
For a large room, it was almost cozy. The bed was high and covered in furs.
A cheerful fire burned in the stone fireplace, and while the chair next to it was wooden, it looked comfortable, worn from much use, the arms rounded and almost soft.
A modest stack of firewood sat within reach of both the fire and chair.
“The bathroom is through there and, if you get hungry, the kitchen is two doors down. I hope you will be comfortable during your stay.”
“Yes, thank you,” my friend said, looking around with satisfaction.
“You have plumbing?” I asked, dying to see his idea of a bathroom.
He steered me out of the room. “Who do you think I am, Corvus, a barbarian who defecates in his house? Come, let us discuss what it is you need.”
I turned to Mindy, who walked us to the door, watching us with a too-knowing look. “I’m fine. I’ll see you later.” She then shut the door in my face.
Whatever I had expected from our visit, this was not it.
I looked around to find I was alone in the hallway.
Where had he gone? I retraced my steps, giving in to the instinctual pull that led me back to him.
He waited for me back in his warm den. I walked past him, doing my best to stay calm, and took the other chair.
You are about to overflow with questions. Let us have them.
I picked up my neglected glass of mead and took a sip. It had a mellow honey taste, reminding me of a summer meadow.
Yes, my friend, the Stag as you knew him, was particularly skilled at making mead. One of the many reasons I will miss him.
The Wolf killed him?
Yes.
He told me you did.
He shook his head, sorrow in his eyes. No, he was my friend.
I’m sorry.
As am I. Why do you want to be changed? He waved his hand from my head down my body.
I blinked, adjusting to his change of subject. The people who knew me no longer recognize me. I am too different. They’re denying me my job back. Taking credit for my work since I disappeared.
Do you miss your freckles? I thought you hated them.
What? How could he possibly know that? Had I been thinking it earlier?
Yes, actually, my kid self would never have believed it, but I miss my freckles.
And you like your job? You want to willingly work with people who do not understand you? Who do not see you? He tilted his head a smidge, looking truly curious.
I loved my work. The people, not so much, but I put up with them. I only just started getting the hang of the job, but once I did, I realized I had a purpose: to design buildings that matter. I looked around the room. Did you build this place?
Yes. A long time ago. Do you like it?
Very much. It’s a gorgeous building. I’ve never seen anything like it on this continent.
Nothing beautiful is being built any longer.
I was going to build something beautiful, something that had never been done.
And now you can’t because you look different?
Why did you tell Mindy to call you Benjamin?
Do you prefer Camazotz?
Are you really the ancient Mayan death god? Something changed in his eyes, reminding me of the little I had read, bringing to mind sacrifices and bloody Mayan ballgames.
Do you want me to be?
I sat back in my chair and studied him. He faced in my direction but without the tension he had held when meeting the other demigod, Chaac.
Despite his fearsome physical features and the stories of blood and death I had read, I felt no fear sitting next to him.
In fact, it felt comfortable, as if I had known him a long time.
He seemed to know me or at least get me.
I sipped my mead. What were we doing here?
It was clear he didn’t want to answer some of my questions.
Changing me to my original shape was another story.
Will you go meet Chaac in a few weeks?
He wants me to go. It is most likely a trap.
I didn’t like the sound of that. Will you go? Even if it is a trap?
He let out a sigh.
Corvus, we are both tired. Let me show you to your room, and we can talk tomorrow.
He got slowly to his feet, as did I, wondering why he wanted to put off our conversation after getting me to talk to him privately.
Then again, I had dropped in unannounced and interrupted whatever he did all day.
What did a semi-retired ancient god of death isolated up on a mountaintop do all day anyway? I’d love the answer to that.
I followed him down the hall past Mindy’s room. He pointed out the kitchen, told me to help myself to everything, and we kept walking.
This door leads to the underground pools. You are welcome to bathe there; the spring water is warm. It helps heat this part of the house.
We approached the end of the hallway, coming up on the far corner of the square building. There were only two doors. He pointed to the one on the left.
This is your room.
To the right was the last door at the end of the hall.
That is my room. Good night.
I hesitated a moment too long, taking in everything that had happened. As he walked away, I wished him Good night.
My room was almost modern, updated a few centuries later than the rest of the huge house, and decidedly feminine.
The dark wooden bed had four posts, each one elegantly turned.
An upholstered settee perched at the foot of the bed, and instead of furs, this bed was piled high with pillows and rich fabrics.
A fire burned in a black marble fireplace, and the walls were lined with filled bookcases.
Faded brown velvet curtains covered two large windows, and I ran to the nearest one to look outside.
It was hard to see in the darkness, but it looked like it faced part of the mountain. I could make out some trees, but mostly ragged cliffside. I still hadn’t put eyes on the interior courtyard. Why hadn’t I explored it when I had wings?
I turned back to the room. This wasn’t a guest room reserved for the occasional fifty-year guest. This room had been used, lived in.
The books looked old but well-read. Located in the back corner of the rambling building, nestled into the mountain, it was the most defended and hardest to access.
Maybe it had been a while since it was last inhabited, the fabrics did look a little moth-eaten, but it was comfortable and welcoming.
What did his room look like? He slept in a room?
Why had I found him turned to stone and pretending to be part of the mountain?
On the wall opposite the bed, there were two doors.
The right-hand door led to a spacious closet filled with Victorian-era dresses.
Silks, taffeta, satin, and cotton, they had all been dyed in bright, jewel-toned colors, faded by time but still sumptuous.
I held one up to my chest. It fell just to my toes.
My new height wasn’t an accident. Had he matched me to a woman he had cared for?
I shook my head. Get over yourself, Freya.
I hung up the dress and went to the other door, half expecting a room full of bloody heads.
It was only a bathroom. One that had been installed a hundred years ago, if the fixtures were all original.
A giant claw-foot tub with an old-school, removable faucet head sat under the window.
Black and white mosaic tiles covered the floors, the walls lined in old marble.
A white porcelain sink with cast-iron pipes running down the wall into the floor stood next to the toilet.
A light layer of dust coated every surface, but it was otherwise clean.
I struggled with the image of Camazotz bending over the tub with a sponge in his giant, clawed hands and a can of Comet in the other.
Did he have someone clean for him? Some sort of fairy creature bound into eternal servitude?
So many questions and nothing made sense.
The mirror over the sink looked plain but old.
My eyes snagged on my reflection. My freckles were back.
I leaned in, looking over the rest of me.
He hadn’t changed anything else, but each small spot was in the exact same place it had been my entire life.
How had he done that? From just seeing me the one time in the middle of the night.
I felt my skin in awe. Or was it like a DNA reset type of magic? Would he ever tell me?
I pulled the knob on the faucet toward me, and fresh mountain water poured into the sink. I used the toilet and thought about taking a bath. But what had he said about the natural caves? That sounded like something worth exploring. And I needed to check on Mindy.
Wrapping myself in the soft wool shawl, burnt-orange plaid that lay draped over the settee, I quietly opened the door. I looked to my left, but his door remained closed. And what would I have done had it been open? I shook my head and turned right.
I found Mindy in the kitchen, cutting up a large loaf of bread, a yeasty smell filling the room.
“Hey, do you think he meant it, that we can eat his food?” she whispered.