His lips open, eyes widen, and he freezes, caught between leaning in and bolting. But as I move my foot closer to the bars, he rips his fingers from mine and steps away to where I can no longer reach.
“Goodnight,” he whispers and retreats so fast his shoulder hits the doorframe. “I’ll… I’ll leave the light on in the staircase.”
Is it messed up that instead of being pissed off I miss him already?
Chapter 11
Dalton
Iwakeuptoan open cage, and a note resting on the floor just outside. It’s pinned in place with a paperweight in the shape of a bird skull. How did I sleep through Corvus coming here? Or does he have a way to automatically open the cage? The haze of sleep lifts almost instantly, and I crawl off my mattress to snatch the brief letter, eyes trained on the neat yet not overly ornate lines of text.
Good morning,
I have already left, but breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen (Please, do not attempt to make coffee other than instant. I will teach you how to use the espresso machine once I’m back. There’s half a liter of fresh brew in the thermal cup).
Some rooms are closed. Do not enter. Feel free to have a look in those I left open. There are yellow Post-it notes in several places. If you encounter them, please, read them.
Help yourself to any food in the kitchen, and enjoy Netflix!
Corvus
The exclamation point at the end does make me smile, as it makes the note sound a bit less like a set of instructions. It also shows he listened to what I told him.
Maybe I’m a bit too optimistic, given my situation, but being let out of the cage on my own is progress. It makes me feel a bit less like a human vibrator, and more like a person. Would a vibrator need coffee? I don’t think so.
I get so excited to explore that I climb two stairs at a time. I don’t know how late it is, since I don’t have a watch, and never got my phone back from Corvus. I doubt I will, but who knows. Depends on how jealous he is of all the contacts in it. I for one don’t care enough about a single one now that I’m getting married to a hot stud who doesn’t mind I’ve got a chequered past.
The things that eventually chased off any other guy I was interested in seemed like non-issues to my new fiancé, and if I manage to make him like me as a person then… maybe this could work? Maybe I’d no longer have to worry about my future, and he wouldn’t have to be all alone in this big house.
Which reminds me he must have left very recently. The scent of coffee still hangs in the air, leading me to a large kitchen with stained glass lamps and windows reminiscent of those in gothic cathedrals. The walls are a dark gray, but the bright wood of the counters, chairs, and the floor softens the stern look of the space. There’s even a three-paneled picture on the empty wall, though considering it depicts a giant and uncannily-realistic skeleton leaning over two samurai while a woman watches them from the side, the choice of art is unusual for a kitchen.
Then again, my future husband has me sleeping in a cage in his murder basement, so what do I know?
As promised, breakfast awaits me on the counter, and while there are ornamental bars in the windows, the space is cozy thanks to all the wood. I get a view of an inner courtyard where several pigeons have decided to keep me company. An elegant metal chair stands next to a small table over there, and judging by the ashtray, it must be where Corvus does most of his smoking. I can envision it clearly. His elegant fingers gripping the black cigarette, he might even be shirtless on a hot day in the summer, lips as greedy for smoke as they were for my—
“God damn!” I exclaim when I take the first bite of the massive sandwich with pastrami he left me. This has to be the best thing I had in ages. The pickle, the mustard… he hit the jackpot.
If I had a phone, I would have texted him about it in an instant.
I know exactly what to do when I spot the pen and sticky notepad next to my plate. I can be forgetful, so I’ll write down my ‘paper texts’ to him, with timestamps, and everything.
The coffee is rich in flavor, and not at all burnt. The coffee machine in the corner is marked with yet another sticky note telling me to back off (though in nicer words), but I take my time browsing through all the different devices he keeps around it, as well as vacuum-sealed pouches of coffee, and several boxes of hot chocolate. When I open one labeled asblack forest, I’m assaulted by the scent of rich dark cocoa and cherries. Instead of the powder I’m used to, the tin contains shavings of chocolate and bits of dried fruit, which turns out to be cherry once I placed one on my tongue.
But, as requested, I don’t touch the coffee machine. I’m looking forward to him teaching me how to use it, so in the future, once we actually share a bedroom, I can bring him coffee to bed.
Maybe I’m a bit of a sap, but I’m justthatexcited about him.
Once I’m done with the breakfast, I go on to explore the rooms that aren’t locked.
When I walk into the living room, I have to turn on the light despite it surely being past noon. Does he like to live like a vampire? It would explain all the dark and creepy shit in his house as well as how pale he is.
For a moment I drift off, imagining that he’s not off ‘to work’ but actually sleeps in a coffin in the basement. Would I still fuck Corvus if he was a vampire? Probably.
But for now, the house is mine, so I walk up to the curtains and pull them apart—
A wall. An honest-to-God brick wall fills the whole window, and when I dash over to the other window, I find the same behind the curtain. There are real windows on the other side of the house, all of them barred, but after a trip upstairs, I have to conclude that all the street-facing windows are fake. I cannot think of a single reason for going through all that trouble, but maybe Corvus can enlighten me at dinner.
One of the rooms overlooking the garden featuring many plants straight from a gothic novel is dedicated to music. Framed band posters accompany the small portrait of a skeleton smoking a cigarette. There’s an overabundance of merch and memorabilia related to a band called Corpselock, including a photo of a younger Corvus witha group of tattooed dudes, who clearly make up a band. Huh. Must be a favorite of his.