I stand up and clean the dishes and the table. All the while, I feel Griffin’s red eyes on me. He must have incredible night vision. And I wonder which god he got them from.
Will he want me toservehim tonight? I’m a little tired, but I would do anything to convince him to let me stay for as long as possible. I usually avoid people. People can get you killed. But Griffin and Beet could keep me alive, and that’s a nice change. It would be like a holiday of a sort. I never had one of those. A cruise on theBeetle, with food and rest. I only miss something crucial.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Yes,” answers Griffin in his deep voice.
“Do you have books here?”Because I’m kind of a bookworm, I almost add.
Since I was a child, I’ve been reading everything that I can get my hands on. From novels to history books, magazines, and science studies. This is how I’ve learned to cope with the world: by escaping into another.
Griffin stays quiet, and I turn to face him. He’s watching me without blinking. It’s unnerving. Did I push my luck?
“The slavers threw away my bags when they captured me,” I continue. “There were three books inside that I didn’t get to finish.” I sigh deeply.
Those books will haunt me forever if I can’t find them again. There was one especially, about a pack of gay werewolves, that I really miss. They wrote some kinky stuff before the Rise. It’s hard for me to relax and fall asleep at night when I don’t read.
Griffin stands up abruptly, and I have to stomp down my instinct to run. He’s very intense, I don’t know if he realizes. I’ve crossed paths with a few mutants over the years, while most people never meet one in their entire lives. They all have this little something. Somethingmore.
“Follow me,” he says, exiting the galley.
I follow him through the narrow passageways that connect the rooms. He leads me to one of the doors that was locked earlier and opens it. I cross the hatch and gasp when I take his room in. There is a large bed in the middle. But what makes my jaw drop to the floor are the rows of wooden shelves along the walls, with hundreds of books secured with large elastic bands.
Most libraries and bookstores have been ransacked since the Rise. Idiots used the books to light fires during the winter. So I’ve never seen so many books in one place.
“Why is he crying?” says Beet. “What have you done?”
That’s when I realize that I have honest to gods tears running down my cheeks.
“I’m not sure,” says Griffin. He sounds worried.
I laugh and dry them with my sleeve. “I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise. I love books.”
Books are everything.
There is a smile tugging at his lips now. It’s the first one I’ve ever seen on him. I can see the points of his fangs peeking out.
“Then have your pick,” he says, gesturing to the shelves.
This day keeps getting better and better. First, food I’ve never tasted before, then a bath and clean clothes, and now books? I walk to the shelves and get my bearings. I don’t know how long he will tolerate me in his bedroom. It soon becomes apparent that he sorted them out by genre. I pick a science fiction book, a fantasy, two romances, and a contemporary fiction book—well, contemporary from over twenty years ago, back when life was so different. Some books are still getting printed nowadays, but the ones that are traded far and wide are all about the gods, survival, and history.
“Thank you!” I say with a big smile.
Griffin is on the bed, watching me. I can’t read his face. He’s always so composed.
“You’re welcome.”
I hesitate, then say, “Do you need something else from me? In exchange for the books?”
A frown appears between his eyebrows. “No. Your room is the one on the right. I’ve changed the sheets.”
“Thank you,” I repeat.
I exit his room and head for mine. Once I’ve closed the hatch behind me, I sit on one of the bunk beds and reflect. Did I misjudge him? I thought he agreed to take me in after I subtly offered him my body. Maybe he’s not gay at all and just wanted someone to cook and clean. And, I guess, it does get lonely when the only person you share your life with is not a person at all.
Which reminds me.
“Beet, can I have some privacy here? Or are you always watching me?”
