Page 34 of Corvus and the Broken God

“What are you worried about? That I’ll discover you are unlovable?” he asked. Then the bastard laughed out loud. I dropped my fork, ready to walk away. “Sit down, Corvus. You are not more or less lovable than any other person on this planet. Someone did a good job convincing you, but you do not have to believe them.” After all, I like you, and I do not tolerate most people.

Tears blurred my vision. Standing, I excused myself to use the bathroom, careful not to look at him. Why did he affect me so much? This person I barely knew. It only took him a few sentences to strip me down to my most vulnerable core. I never let anyone get to me like this before, not since I was a young girl. Many years ago. Even that last, gut-wrenching interaction with my uncle had been executed with clear eyes. Then again, nobody else could read my mind or see down to the depths of my soul. Nobody drew me to them quite like this either. Apparently, I would need to get over it.

I took my time getting my hurt feelings under control. Stalling a bit longer, I washed my face. While his mountain fortress did have hot and cold running water, it was still outdated.

A figure stood outside the dark bathroom area, waiting. Darryl. Great, I was in no mood to deal with him.

“A word, Freya, Morgan, whoever you are.”

“Morrigan,” I mumbled, then stepped around him, the open dining room at my back. “Sure, Darryl. How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to let you know you are not the first woman to go up that mountain.” He watched me closely, dark eyes sunken in his face.

“Oh?” I pulled my chest up, exuding confidence I didn’t feel.

“Yeah. Whatever he’s told you, whatever lies he’s spun to convince you to stay with him, the stories I’ve heard would keep you up at night.” He leaned into my space, more of a threat than I liked.

I stepped back, putting space between us. “I’m sure you’re right. It takes a certain type of person to live a solitary life up there all by himself. But my question for you is why do you care?”

“Because, for some reason, I just do. And Freya, those women never came down off the mountain.”

I turned and walked back to the table, surprised to find him behind me. Camazotz ignored him, giving me only a cursory glance. In the privacy of the bathroom, I had gotten my unruly thoughts under control, without a clue if such a thing were even possible, but back in his presence, it wasn’t so easy.

“Darryl, do you have a vehicle that could deliver a refrigerator up the mountain?” my Monster asked.

“Sorry, Mr. Benjamin, but your driveway is too steep for most vehicles. If my four-wheel drive can’t make it up there, then a delivery truck certainly couldn’t.” Darryl just stood there, looming over us.

“Maybe I should hire someone else to make our deliveries from now on.” Camazotz glanced up and narrowed his gaze. Darryl took a step back. Yeah, buddy, the best rumors are based on fact.

“Good luck finding someone,” said Darryl. “Freya, remember what I told you.”

I would remember, but I couldn’t afford to think about his words or their implications just yet.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Pool

We took care of the shopping quickly. And quietly. He simply led me to each store, sent me in to pick out what I needed, and then came in at the last minute to pay. Handy when you know what the other person is thinking, or at least one of us did. We packed everything into the back of the Jeep and headed up to his dead friend’s log cabin.

If only I could hear what he was thinking. I had been the one to go quiet first, but he was so good at being quiet. He had centuries of practice on me. Millennia?

As we approached the log cabin, I took a good look at it, having been too distracted the first time. The wide porch and large windows made it instantly appealing, suited perfectly for its surroundings. Despite the rustic appeal, the more I looked, the more the true condition revealed itself. The chinking between the logs had deteriorated, and the wood was beginning to rot in places. Long swaths of trim needed to be replaced. Maybe I could come and work on it. If no one maintained the house, it would fall into disrepair. I thought of Darryl. Did he ever come up here? With his meddling nature, he’d notice the former occupant had disappeared mysteriously. Then again, the No Trespassing signs probably kept most folks away.

Once we crawled our way up the jutted drive, we parked and jumped out of the truck simultaneously. Since we weren’t really talking, I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next. Camazotz walked to the back of the Jeep, transforming into his original form in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t help gawking as his muscles lengthened and broadened. Horns grew out of the sides of his head. Why did he prefer having horns? They had to be heavy. His skin turned dark gray. Giant wings grew out from between his shoulder blades. He went on ignoring me, grabbing the bags, and taking flight without another word or thought in my direction.

I watched him fly away, sticking my tongue out after him once he became a small dot on the horizon. Big jerk. Think you’re unlovable, Freya? Well, stop it. I like you, so there. Ugh. I couldn’t shake the embarrassment, and, if I was being honest, the disappointment. They stuck to me, along with residual feelings of inferiority I hadn’t dealt with yet, courtesy of Cassandra and Matthew.

I headed into the cabin, taking advantage of the distance between us to explore the place. It wasn’t large or new, but I loved it. The floorboards, burnished from years of use, had mellowed into a deep walnut color, the wood smooth and almost soft to the touch. Whoever had built it had used actual logs for the outer walls, but the missing mortar was visible from the inside too. Left much longer, it would be drafty in the winter. The downstairs consisted of a living room, a small kitchen tucked in the back, knotty pine like everywhere else, steps leading upstairs, and a half bathroom. Other than the bathroom, it was essentially one large room, and it was more cozy than spacious. The kitchen hadn’t been updated in decades, if ever, but the rustic charm worked with the rest of the building.

I had already seen the only upstairs room and bathroom, and there wasn’t much else up there except for a single bed and a tall dresser. I dragged my feet up the steps, still wearing the dead man’s clothing, since my bags of new stuff were already being flown up to the big house. I stripped down and studied myself in the mirror. I could change my appearance and probably should, although at this point it would mostly be to spite the creature who had altered me. My eyes had a weird back glow, but only if you looked long enough. The color was close enough to the original, but the shape had changed. Could I change them back? How would I do that? Such a small thing, yet transforming into a totally different species felt easier.

Giving up for the moment, I reached inside for my crow. This time, she came easily, and the next moment, I was inches from the floor, my surroundings again cartoonishly large. With a hop, I flapped my wings and caught the air under them, diving into the living room and out the open door in one swoop before climbing up into the sky. I followed the invisible tether leading me back to my temporary home.

The following week passed mostly in silence as we actively avoided each other. While I kept my stuff in the feminine bedroom, my practical, modern clothing out of place next to the formal, moth-eaten dresses, I began sleeping in Mindy’s room. It wasn’t as comfortable, but the distance gave me the illusion that my dreams and thoughts were private, even though it was too late to worry about him overhearing them. He knew my deepest fears, my basest embarrassments, all the ways I was lacking. Despite Darryl’s warnings, I wasn’t afraid of him. Had he done things in the long time he’d been alive that would make my skin crawl? Probably. Inevitably. But civilization had changed. Our ideas of right and wrong were different now. Or was I rationalizing?

I couldn’t help but wonder: Who had used my room last? Was he keeping it precisely the same in homage? In the hope she would return? That last thought seemed unlikely, but still disturbing. What had she been like? Nothing like me, that was certain. She had been ultra-feminine, fond of frills and decoration. A filigreed box sat on top of the dresser, the cast-off jewelry tangled and tarnished, but still overly fussy and intricate. I preferred clean, modern lines, no clutter. My heroes were all post-modernists. Despite being the same height as her, the waists of the dresses were tiny, as were the shoulders. I could never wear anything of hers without altering it or myself. I would never do the latter on principle.

My fingers played with the necklace chains, untangling them and setting them out on the dresser. One necklace was simpler than the others: a long, teardrop-shaped, jade-colored stone set in gold on a delicate gold chain. It felt cool in my hand.