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while I slept. There was a basement, but it was too cold down there.
The bedframe was dark wood with a hand-carved headboard—vines and mushrooms and jutting shards of crystal all tangled together in a quintessential demiurgus design. The stained-glass lamps on the nightstands were demiurgus-made as well—bright, curved panes of emerald green, electric pink and deep gold swirling together, with a burnished gold base.
I chewed my lip as I stared at them, still clutching the fresh sheets in my hands. Maybe I should put some lamps in the living room as well. I preferred candlelight, and I could see well in the dark, so it didn’t bother me. But humans had shitty eyesight, didn’t they? If Beryl wanted to read or whatever in there, she’d need better light.
Trying to keep track of the growing list of stuff I had to do before her arrival, I hurriedly made the bed and carefully smoothed down the sheets. They were made of thick, warm fabric in a deep green to match the drapes—yes, I liked things to match—but I suddenly remembered those hideous shiny satin sheets at the compound. Did she prefer silky sheets? If so, I’d have to order some.
Should I order anything else for her? Like… bath stuff? I crossed the room and opened the bathroom door, flicking on the light. Black tiles gleamed under the spotlights, the big copper tub and fixtures the only splashes of colour in here. A single glass bottle rested in a recessed shelf by the tub, filled with ruby-red bubble bath. Okay, so she’d need shampoo or whatever. Unless she brought her own.
Noticing there were no towels in here, I hurried back into the hallway and grabbed several from the closet, as well as a stack of blankets. She might not want them, but I liked to pile about ten blankets on top of myself when I was relaxing, so I’d leave them for her just in case. After placing them neatly on the armchair by the window, I carried the towels into the bathroom and left them in a stack on top of the laundry hamper.
What else?
I wasn’t exactly dreading Beryl’s arrival, but I couldn’t really remember why I’d wanted to have someone live here with me so much. I was already stressed out, wondering if she would hate all the black walls and high ceilings and cluttered rooms. At least there wasn’t too much stuff in this bedroom—just some ornaments and fresh candles in intricate glass-and-metal holders and the demiurgus-made artwork on the walls, which might be unsettling to a human.
With a mental shrug, I loped out of the room. She could replace anything she didn’t like. She could paint the walls lime green if she wanted. It wasn’t like I’d ever be going in there.
Back downstairs, I went into my bedroom and winced at the absolute state of it, but it wasn’t like she’d ever be coming in here. Still, I hurriedly grabbed my vibrating cock sleeve—left carelessly on the unused side of the bed from, what, two days ago?—and stuffed it into the bottom drawer of my nightstand with the rest of my toys. Spotting my blanket onesie draped over the chest at the end of the bed—which had several other blankets spilling out of it—I tugged it over my head before yanking on my fluffy bootie slippers, designed to fit over big demiurgus feet.
I made a half-assed effort to tidy up my room a bit, straightening the covers so the bed looked kind of made, bundling up the clothes strewn about everywhere and shoving them into the bottom of the closet to deal with another time.
By the time I was done gathering up all the cups and plates and empty food packets, I was exhausted. This had been a weird-as-shit day. I felt mentally drained, and even though I’d gone to that creepy compound with the half-formed idea of finding a roommate, I didn’t want to waste my last night alone in my house stressing over what was coming tomorrow.
I needed to chill the fuck out so I wasn’t a nervous wreck when I went back to get Beryl. Flopping down onto my bed, I grabbed my tin of smoking stuff and the TV remote. But as I hunched over and rolled myself a joint, my eyes kept flicking over to my laptop resting innocently on the far nightstand, and the bottom drawer beneath it.
After sticking the joint between my lips, I huffed and rolled onto my belly to reach for my laptop. This was my last night to watch porn at max volume and turn my vibrator up to the highest setting, right? Might as well make the most of it.
Chapter Eight
Beryl
“Beryl, for as long as I’ve been a part of our family, you have been a grounding presence in my life.”
As Moe began tearing up, his chin wobbling, I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead pasted on a bland smile.
This was the fifth speech so far. To celebrate my last night in the commune and my impending matehood with Greid the Greater Being—I’d quietly snorted when the high priest called him that—I was being treated to a big “family” dinner. It always creeped me out when members called us a family, and not just because I’d fooled around with some of them in the past. Violet was my only family, and she was currently sitting beside me, ashen-faced, with an untouched plate of food in front of her.
I hadn’t had a chance to speak to her yet—to explain. God knew what she was thinking. Probably that Greid had coerced me or threatened me into agreeing to be his mate. She knew I’d never, ever willingly become the doting lover of a demiurgus.
As soon as Greid had left, I’d been surrounded by excited members eager to pamper me so I “looked my best” for his return the next day so that I could start my new life, my new calling, with glossy hair and baby-soft skin and a body waxed from head to toe.
I’d flat-out refused the wax, but I’d indulged them just enough to save face by letting Nancy fuss with my hair while Hannah—a twenty-nine-year-old cult member who’d exchanged her dream of becoming a lawyer for the dream of becoming a demiurgus’s mate—slathered a mask all over my face.
When I heard about what the cult members had given up to be here, it made me want to scream. You could’ve done anything, I wanted to yell at them. You had the whole world at your feet and you fucked it!
But I’d learned over my time here, as an observer of a unique subsect of humanity, that people had all kinds of reasons for giving up their lives to simply exist in this big compound on the top of a hill. Some of those reasons were fairly innocent on the surface—they’d been rescued from a burning building by a demiurgus, who were much stronger and faster than humans, when they were a kid, and ever since they’d basically hero-worshipped the species. Or they simply weren’t attracted to other humans and were only attracted to demiurgus, and they thought this was the best way to potentially get the partner they wanted.
Some people had come here after experiencing a midlife crisis, or when the pressures of the outside world got too much and they couldn’t cope—like Hannah. She’d once told me that she’d almost had a nervous breakdown at law school, and it had made her realise that it wasn’t what she wanted. That all she really wanted was a quiet life with the person she loved. And in her dream, that person happened to be a demiurgus.
I’d always wondered why the people here hadn’t just tried to meet demiurgus out in the real world, like in a bar or at the supermarket or at work, instead of going to the extreme of dedicating their entire lives to worshipping the creatures. But after speaking to Greid, I thought I understood it better. I’d already suspected that human-demiurgus relationships were super rare, but it seemed there was a good reason for that—the two species weren’t exactly compatible. And if demiurgus knew that, I doubted they often bothered to approach humans they were attracted to.
I realised I’d zoned out when everyone started clapping as Moe wrapped up his speech. As he sank back into his chair, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin, someone else stood up and took a breath. I slouched further into my seat, wishing I had something stronger than water to get me through this.
“Beryl,” Fatimah began, giving me a beaming, watery smile. “I can’t tell you how excited I am for you. And, yes, a little bit jealous.” She let out a delicate laugh as everyone around the table chuckled and murmured in agreement. I dutifully smiled.
“You are truly blessed, Beryl, and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more,” Fatimah continued with a dreamy sigh. “You have been a faithful member of our family for years, and not once have you given up hope that you would one day be blessed with the love of a Greater. You’re an inspiration to all of us, and a shining example of how we shouldn’t lose faith. That love will come to all of us one day.”
As Fatimah sat down to a round of ‘hear hears’ from the others, my gut clenched with unease. I wasn’t all that keen on being a “shining example” of why they should all keep wasting their lives in this place. But as I glanced around the table at all the wistful faces, I realised there was probably very little that would cause them to give up their dream. That was how groups like this worked.
