Chapter 19 #3
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finally accepted her transformation was sticking.
The statue showed no signs of movement. I sat down on the bed and finished my meal, feeling coldhearted and guilty.
Good thing I still had the rope as evidence of her own intentions.
Otherwise, I might have been tempted to change her back.
That would’ve been true suicide. I had surprised her, only able to gain the upper hand since she had underestimated me.
Nobody bothered me. She must have asked for privacy back when she thought she’d be having a heart-to-heart with her husband.
So, I had that going for me. Too bad I turned her clothes to stone with the rest of her.
That hadn’t been deliberate; I was just being thorough.
A little too thorough, maybe. And terrified.
I didn’t trust my abilities enough to try turning her clothing back from stone, unsure I could repeat what I had done in the first place, since I had been acting from intuition more than anything.
The room had an old armoire that held clean linens, none large enough to drape around me.
A yawn ripped from my mouth. Pushing aside a thick curtain, I peered out at the dark sky.
I needed to move forward with my plan before the household woke up.
At least I needed to find her bedroom. Then a terrible thought struck: Would Chaac be there waiting for me?
I shuddered, imagining sex with my Monster’s enemy.
No, I decided, he would have his own room, for propriety’s sake.
Or would she run from condemning her husband straight to her lover’s bed?
No, she had her own room back when they were together in Tennessee; she would have her own space here as well.
I couldn’t let my fears bog me down, not now.
I also had no good ideas for moving Ixtab, her arms still outstretched in her death act, her granite body too heavy for me to hide. And if someone found her, then what? Would they waste time trying to figure out who did this? No, they wouldn’t have to—they’d come looking for me.
I tried melting the lock from outside the room, but found I had no control over the old iron.
I needed this room walled off, in case she figured out a way to transform back.
So, I picked up a ball of rice, thinking I had been able to turn her clothing to stone, so organic material was fair game.
Pushing aside my doubt, I mashed the soft rice into the lock and turned it into stone, locking the door to the room until someone kicked it down.
Naked and pumped up on adrenaline, I faced the rest of the house.
Thinking through where I’d been earlier, I tried to reason out where her room would be.
It was her manor house, so she would have the best room.
The wing where she had taken me had an abandoned feel, still clean and attended to but not often used.
The meeting hall was down a different wing on the ground floor.
Where would a goddess put her suite? I decided to explore the rest of the top floor, even though my gut told me she’d be closer to the action.
The search went slowly as I tiptoed down the halls.
It was late enough that I didn’t run into anyone, but the noises I did hear stopped me in my tracks.
The doors were close together—several people slept as I checked the rooms with doors that opened—and I gave up quickly and headed down to the second story.
These rooms were larger, the ceiling higher, the doors farther apart, and most certainly occupied by the creatures who recently tried to kill my lover.
The few doors I tried were locked, and I forced myself to keep going even as my nerves frayed.
One or two bedrooms were empty but had the faint mustiness that told me they had been vacant for a while.
At the end of the hallway was one final door.
The doorknob turned, and the door opened without a sound.
I held my breath and stepped inside, deciding to take Ixtab’s form at the last minute.
What would she be doing roaming the halls of her house naked and lost?
I couldn’t imagine what I’d say if I got caught, but I channeled Cassandra again, her haughty disapproval of everyone, and figured my best bet would be to fake my way from here on out.
The front room was set up like a sitting room, the furniture grand and reminiscent of my room back at Camazotz’s house.
Her old room. His wife. Feral hatred took over my body, quickly replaced by shame.
I had turned her into a statue—who even was I?
Shaking my head, I pushed forward. The second room held a fancy canopied bed, and most importantly, it was empty.
I glanced quickly into the bathroom and closet, confirmed they, too, were empty, then ran back to the door of the suite and locked it.
I leaned against it, finally feeling some relief. Tomorrow held plenty of uncertainty, but for now, I was safe.