Fables & Other Lies

“What . . . ” He glanced out to the foyer, and I looked with him, but Mayra was gone. “What happened?”

“She was just there,” I managed when we finally reached the top of the staircase. “Mayra. She was just there staring at me.”

“Don’t mind her.”

“She doesn’t like me,” I whispered. “And it makes me uneasy, the way she looks at me.”

River didn’t offer any more words of encouragement or try to placate me. He merely made a right when we reached the top and walked down another great hall. The wallpaper was different up here, but was also very much flower driven and dated. At the end of the hall, there was a door with a gold handle in the middle, which he turned and opened, waiting so that I would walk inside first. I did, tentatively.

“You’re already here.” He chuckled. “No use in acting timid now.”

“I’m not acting timid.” My eyes narrowed. “I’m nervous.”

“Fair enough.” He shut the door behind us.

I turned to look at the room. It looked like something that tourists would walk through in a museum. There was a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, with a fireplace in front of it. The walls in here were black it seemed, and it too was lit with oil lamps all throughout.

“I feel like I’m living in a black and white movie,” I said, to which River laughed, but it was tight and not as amused.

The only thing that was light in the entire room was the bed, with a plush white comforter folded and white sheets. The four poles were connected by a white sheer fabric, a mosquetero to keep the bugs away, and I wondered if he slept with his windows open or didn’t have air-conditioning. I would die without air-conditioning. It wasn’t hot in here, not really, but I knew the moment my head hit the pillow I’d start kicking off all the sheets. That gave me pause. He hadn’t brought me here to sleep. He’d brought me to sleep with. God knew I could do a lot worse than River Caliban. He was one of those rare men who was attractive to anyone who laid eyes on him. Yet, he was older, experienced, and I wasn’t. I was just a ball of nerves. Maybe after a shower. Maybe if I gathered my wits. A warm shower always helped me do that.

“Will I be able to shower?” I turned to River.

“Of course.” He walked over to where I assumed the bathroom was.

We walked past a sitting area with a daybed and two armchairs. It seemed to be tucked into the wall and also had a fabric that could serve as a privacy shield. It was such a strange thing to have in a bedroom, but then, I had to remind myself, this was the Caliban House. The bathroom was nice, considering. It had a his and hers sink and mirror and seemed to have more light than the rest of the house, but that wasn’t saying much. There was a white clawfoot tub to the left and a shower to the right.

“I’m surprised you have a shower.”

“Are you insinuating I’m dirty?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, not at all, that’s not what I—”

“Relax, Penelope. I was joking. I’m actually not a complete bore.”

I swallowed and smiled slightly, hoping it looked somewhat grateful, which I was. After all, he hadn’t raped, tortured, or killed me . . . yet.

“I’ll get you a towel and some things for you to sleep in. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be able to take photographs of the house.”

“Thank you. Is it always this dark in here?”

River tilted his head slightly. “Most of the time. It should be better in the morning.”

“I thought it was supposed to be light this week, for Carnival.”

“Because of the tide?”

I nodded.

“The fog and darkness have nothing to do with the low tide.” His eyes speared into mine as he said the words and I thought of my family, of our families. Of the curse. No. I shook my head. The curse was bullshit.

“I’ll have my shower now. Thank you.” I smiled again.

“Sure thing.” He gave a nod and stepped out of the bathroom momentarily, only coming back to bring the towel and clothes he promised.

I shut the door behind him and locked it when he stepped out the second time and got to undressing quickly. Once I was under the head of the shower, with the light spray that felt like rain trickling over me, I shut my eyes, but then I saw Mayra with her anger, glaring at me. I gasped, opening my eyes again. There was nothing there. I looked over my shoulder and once again confirmed that there was nothing there. My heart pounded, clearly not getting the memo. I showered quickly, dried off quickly, and changed quickly into a long T-shirt and boxer briefs. The T-shirt was white and even though it wasn’t completely see-through, I knew one gust of wind would have my nipples on display. It didn’t matter. I had a say in this; I was given a choice, and I chose this. I chose to be here. I sealed my fate by going to Carnival, as River had said. With that thought, I stepped into the bedroom. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at a painting of boats on an angry ocean.