Tilting his head, Cecil watched them. It looked as if Benji was trying to strangle the giant redhead. Cecil would have given Benji a pat on the head for effort, but he didn’t seem to be affecting Roth at all.
Roth wasn’t even struggling to breathe, he was laughing—a full belly laugh that shook his whole body.
Cecil was a bit surprised that Sin wasn’t interfering in whatever was happening. The man was shaking his head, with his hands on his hips, but he didn’t move to do anything.
“Shouldn’t you stop them?” Cecil asked.
Sin waved his concern away. “Nothing to worry about, I assure you. Roth would never hurt Benji. They will tire eventually.”
“But…” Cecil trailed off.
He had been about to ask ‘what about Roth?’ but really, was there a point? From what Cecil could tell, there was no way in hell Benji could actually cause any damage to the mountain of a redhead.
Sin smiled. “Why don’t I show you to your room? Follow me.” He picked up Cecil’s small suitcase and walked toward a set of doors on the far wall and waited.
Having been previously occupied, Cecil just now noticed that the entrance was unusually small. The floor was white marble, and the walls were a maroon color. Considering what the place looked like from the outside, Cecil would have thought there would have been a grand foyer or something fancy like that leading to a staircase. It kind of looked like the entryway of a typical house—an upper-class house, but still just a house.
“Uh, yeah...okay,” Cecil muttered.
He peered one last time at the odd pair. Benji’s face remained flushed, and Roth was still laughing, but right before Cecil turned to follow Sin, Benji buried his face in the big man’s neck. He would have sworn the man was sniffing the other.
Maybe Roth’s comments on love weren’t too far from the truth.Whatever, it’s none of my business, Cecil thought, walking over to Sin.
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’sopinion 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 bythe 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.
