“It would seem Mairwen only sent yer bedchamber through the Veil.” Mathison quietly closed the bedroom door, then halted a few steps into the room, looking as if he’d just walked in front of a firing squad.
Through the Veil. If it wasn’t so painfully real, she’d laugh at the ridiculousness of those words. But no. This was no laughing matter. This was unbelievable, impossible, and yet...here she was.
“It is safe here,” her intuition said.
“Oh, just shut up,” Calia thought back. “You said he was safe to begin with, and now I’ve fallen down this crazy rabbit hole and can’t find my way back out.” Great. Now, she was arguing with herself. Wasn’t that wonderful? And now, she could not only not pee, but she also couldn’t brush her teeth, something she always did first thing every morning to start the day with a clean, fresh-tasting mouth.
She turned and eyed the room that seemed to be changing before her very eyes. It was as though every molecule from her century was slowly assimilating to fit in with the hallway’s medieval decor. Before anything else could change or fade away, she snatched up her boots and the armload of folded clothes, mainly jeans and tees, that she’d left on the chair beside the bed. “Make her stop, Mathison. She’s taking all my stuff.”
He offered a sad shake of his head. “I canna, lass. Her powers far surpass mine. Not only is she a Divine Weaver, but also a daughter of the goddesses.”
Backing against the wall, Calia hugged her things tighter. Ever so slowly, she slid down to the floor and sat there like a battle-weary dragon guarding the last of its hoard.
Mathison went to a long, low multi-drawer dresser and poured a cup of tea from the tea service that she hadn’t noticed when she first came into the room. Approaching her as if she were a cornered animal, he held it out, offering her the steaming cup. “Drink this. It will help.”
“Nothing will help.” She waved the cup away.
He unleashed a heavy sigh, his brow furrowed with sorrow and pain. “I never meant it to be like this, Calia. I am so verra sorry.”
“Then tell me, Mathison, how exactly did you mean it to be?” It was a good thing she’d sold her Glock to her former partner because if she had it now, she wouldn’t be responsible for how she would use that pistol. She was in a deadly mood. Even she sensed that.
“He is safe,” her intuition insisted.
“I told you to shut up,” Calia silently replied before looking up at Mathison and baring her teeth as if she were a rabid beast. “Well? How did you mean it to be?”
“I meant for us to seal our bond afore I brought ye to the Ninth Realm.”
“Seal our bond? You mean have sex?”
He shuffled in place, looking even more uncomfortable. “Aye, but it would have been more than that, lass. I swear it.”
She’d heard that promise before. “What makes you so certain I would have come here even then?” She needed to find a place to relieve herself. This was not a conversation to attempt when her bladder was about to explode. “Where exactly do you pee here?” she asked before he had a chance to answer the first question.
He pointed at a tri-fold screen of rare burl wood, the rich browns and golds of its swirls and knots both chaotic and impressive. It had appeared out of nowhere to close off the far corner of the room that had doubled in size. “A commode and dresser with every essential ye need is behind that divider.”
Still unwilling to set down her boots and clothes out of fear that they’d be erased, she carried them with her to inspect the accommodations. Behind the folding wall, she discovered that there were indeed two dressers. Atop the larger cabinet sat a cream-colored pitcher and bowl, a stack of neatly folded cloths, and an assortment of crockery and colored bottles. It had four center drawers and a door on each end. She peeped inside the cabinets and drawers, but the contents only confused her. More linens and cloths were stacked inside, along with what seemed to be clumps of wool, and more crocks, which were sealed with waxy-looking cloths tied with string. The other dresser, the smaller of the two, squatted next to it, and was shaped like a fat, round-bellied wooden barrel.
She gingerly set her clothes and boots down on one end of the larger cabinet, but kept her hand on them, just in case. She felt a little crazy about doing so, but justified that craziness by reminding herself how everything else had disappeared. “There are two dressers back here,” she called out to Mathison. “I don’t see a commode.” She knew what a commode was supposed to look like. She hadn’t seen one since that antique auction back in southern Tennessee, but still knew what one should look like.
He joined her behind the screen and pointed at the barrel-like dresser. “That is the commode.” He reached in behind it, flipped a latch, and opened it up like one of those wooden brain teaser puzzles. After securing the sides with additional latches, he stepped back and pointed at the seat with the hole in it. “The chamber pot is underneath. The maids empty it however many times it needs to be emptied.”
“Wow.” The impossibility of all of this was making her head hurt again. She rubbed her temples, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve such a predicament, and now, she wouldn’t even have any of her migraine medicine to help her survive it. “Thank you.”
He bowed. “I shall step out into the hall to leave ye with some privacy. Fetch me once ye are ready to continue our conversation.”
She’d never be ready to continue their conversation, but knew it was a necessary evil, so she nodded. “Fine.”
As soon as she heard the bedroom door click, she eased her hand off her pile of clothes but stood there, watching them, ready to snatch them back up should they start to disappear. But they remained in place, acting as clothes should act. Geez, even her observations sounded crazy. About to pee down both legs, she hurried to take a seat.
Her powerful stream echoed as it hit the ceramic pot underneath. When she finished, she sat there wondering what this unbelievable place used for toilet paper. Upon closer inspection of the opened sides of the commode, she found a shallow drawer filled with roughly torn squares of linen. Was that what she was supposed to use for mop-up operations? Unwilling to sit there until she air-dried, she used the linen and let it fall into the chamber pot, hoping she hadn’t created more unpleasant work for whoever drew the short straw and had to empty it.
Now, she needed to wash her hands and face and at least rinse the morning funk out of her mouth. She peeped into the large pitcher and sniffed. It had no smell and appeared to be clean water. She poured a little into the bowl and scrubbed her hands and face as best as she could, all the while wishing for her strawberry-scented soap and the skincare products she’d spent entirely too much money on. On a whim, she wet one of the hand-sized cloths from the stack and scrubbed her teeth. It didn’t have the refreshing effect of her minty toothpaste and mouthwash, but it was better than nothing.
Then she dressed in the clothes she’d managed to save from Mairwen. Jeans and a tee. Sadly, no panties, bra, or socks had been in the pile of clothes stacked on the chair. She shoved her feet into the boots, hoping the well broken in pair of reliable footwear wouldn’t give her blisters.
Scooping up her clothes again, she rounded the screen and eyed the stone hearth with the crackling fire that had taken the place of her dresser and computer desk. The room had also now tripled in size, with higher ceilings and a large canopy bed with light gray velvet curtains. Her closet door was gone, replaced by a massive mahogany wardrobe. Every shaggy, super soft throw rug had disappeared. Tapestries more appropriate for a museum were scattered in all the right places. Every familiar aspect of her bedroom was gone except for the clothes she hugged to her chest. Her things had been fully assimilated. Resistance had been futile.
Without setting down her clothes, she went to the bedroom door that now looked more like a reinforced oak door that would lead to the dungeons. Large black bolts and hammered strips of metal guaranteed that the door’s thick planks would last forever. She lifted the heavy latch and pulled it open.
