Page 59 of The Devil’s Feather

I giggled, and he winked at me.

“I love that you’re the most outwardly masculine guy I’ve ever dated, but somehow also the least invested in traditional masculinity.”

“Gender is a performance, and I am an audience of one.” He pulled more boxes of books out of the car.

“Don’t you have a dolly or something?”

Rafael lifted five heavy boxes at once. “I have been slacking on workouts since I met you. This will help.”

“Yeah, those arms have really atrophied down to nothing. Your biceps might only be the size of my head now.”

He gave me a sassy hair toss and model-stomped into the elevator.

I sidled in next to him, squeezing between the boxes and the mirrored wall. “You are a funny guy, you know that?”

“I have it on the highest authority that I am fucking hilarious.”

“Is that a height joke, you big nerd?” I shoved him. Unsuccessfully.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he hefted the boxes.

“Now where are we going to put all these books? I’m surprised you let me bring them all.”

He stopped the elevator on the second floor with a twinkle in his eye. “You will see.”

Unlocking a heavy wooden door from the landing, Rafael led me into the turret room at the building’s narrowest corner and set the boxes down. I looked up. And up. Books lined every available niche above, below, and between the windows. All the way up the building’s full nine floors. A narrow, wrought iron spiral staircase, with a Deco-flavored fan pattern in the railing, ascended with them. Every other level had a small level platform and a door. Frosted wall sconces recalling the Lalique pendant in the antechamber lit each level.

“That’s a lot of stairs.” Staring at the impossibly high ceiling made me dizzy.

“You can access any floor from the elevator with this.” He pressed an antique key into my hand. “Come, let me show you the reading room.”

The elevator carried us to the top, and we entered the domed tower room. Poufs and lush, jewel-toned velvet pillows dominated. The only chair accompanied a tall, narrow, antique desk off to one side, for the ease of writing should inspiration strike. The next rainy day couldn’t come fast enough.

“This is some straight up Beauty and the Beast shit,” I blurted, open-mouth gaping. It was strangely familiar, this unique library. A strong sensation of déjà vu overtook me.

Rafael laughed; a sound of genuine delight. “I told you most of the rest of the building was storage. I did not say what kind.”

“This is unreal. Why did you wait so long to show me?” I tugged at his arm.

“Consider it a housewarming gift.”

I spun around like Julie Andrews, but the hills were alive with books. “Can I sleep in here? I always said I wanted to live in a turret.”

“Promise you will visit me in the dungeon, and you can do whatever you want. Where would you like me to put your books?”

I shook my head in wonder. “Uh, throw them out the window. I don’t know if they deserve to live here. I don’t know if I do either.”

“Must I spank you again?”

“If you spank me with a book, sure.” A memory clicked into place. “I just realized this place looks like a recurring dream where I follow a shadow through an endless vertical library, going upward through a house full of secret doors. I hadn’t had that dream in years, but it came back after you took me to the dungeon. It feels so surreal. I’m a little overstimulated.”

Rafael pulled me into his arms, humming low in his throat. “You dreamed of me before we ever met. I heard the music of your soul.” He kissed the top of my head. “I will follow you in every life, every era. Let us become stars together in the night sky.”

17

THE HAMSTER WAS RIGHT

Hanging my clothes in Rafael’s closet made it almost real. He’d told me to take as much space as I wanted, but I kept my stuff compact. Anxiety insisted he didn’t mean it; that I didn’t really live here. I was just a guest. Just passing through.