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Thick, heavy drapes were pulled back from a gorgeous stained-glass window designed with leaves and crystals and weird-looking bugs. A big flat-screen TV was mounted above a polished chest of drawers that had some candles and ornaments displayed on it.
Stained-glass lamps sat on nightstands either side of the bed, so I went over to turn one on, grinning at the soft golden light that spilled out.
Greid cleared his throat. “Bathroom’s through there.”
I turned to see him hovering in the doorway and pointing at a closed door to my right. After nodding, I eyed him and said, “You can come in.”
He fidgeted, ears fluttering. “I don’t want to invade your private space. I came in here yesterday to make the bed and check it was all okay, but, um, I’ll leave you alone when you’re in here. There’s a lock on the door, by the way,” he added quickly. “So you can lock it at night and, you know, whenever you’re in here.”
“Okay, thanks.” It was comforting to know I could lock the door, but I didn’t think I’d feel the constant need to.
“And if you want to change anything, you can.” Greid gestured at the walls. “If you don’t like the… We can paint it or replace the furniture or whatever.”
I looked around again. I might want to buy myself a few extra bits of furniture, but I liked what was in here already. The armchair by the window looked cosy, and there was a stack of interestingly patterned blankets on the seat. The vanity on the other side of the window was mostly clear, just a few candles and trinkets, waiting for all my stuff to be displayed on it.
There was a half-filled bookcase tucked in the corner beside a floor lamp with another stained-glass shade. I liked the thought of filling the rest of its shelves with books I could buy myself—any books at all. We’d been discouraged from reading anything that wasn’t sanctioned history and information books on the demiurgus in the compound.
“I don’t think I want to change anything,” I told Greid with a smile. “I like it. It’s nice. Feels cosy.”
His face spikes flexed as he picked at the edge of the doorframe. “Oh. Okay. Good.” Taking a step back, he cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to unpack—”
“What about the tour?”
“Oh.” He let out a squawk of nervous laughter, which kind of made me want to give him a hug. He seemed so tense. Shit, maybe he was already regretting this. “Sure, of course. You need to know where everything is, right?”
“We can do it later if you want,” I said cautiously, then gave him a tiny grin as I walked over. “Maybe you should go smoke a bit to chill out.”
He shot me a weak glare. “I’m chill. I’m totally chill.”
“Sure,” I said dryly, then swept my arm out in a grand gesture. “Well, lead the way, Greater.”
Chapter Eleven
Beryl
After another disgruntled look, Greid turned and ambled down the corridor. I couldn’t stop looking around as I followed. The ceilings and doors were really tall, which made sense given the demiurgus’ height. Where there wasn’t framed artwork crammed onto every available inch of wall space, strange-looking tapestries hung, depicting scenes of vast cave networks with ceilings that glittered like they were studded with crystals and demiurgus dancing around a blue-flamed fire.
When we reached the second floor, I caught a glimpse of another tapestry that seemed to show some humans, but we continued descending the stairs before I could get a proper look. Once we were back on ground-level, Greid led me down a narrow corridor with only one door at the end. After opening it, he felt around for a light switch and descended the stairs.
Maybe I should’ve felt nervous going into a basement with him, but I just… didn’t. His vibe was completely non-threatening—dorky and shy and seemingly lacking the dominant trait that was rumoured to exist in all demiurgus. But then again, I’d had a pretty sheltered life, all things considered. Maybe I wasn’t as good at reading people as I thought I was.
Still, I was already in his house. It wasn’t like the basement was technically any more of a threat than the rest of the place. I followed him down and stopped at the bottom of the stairs when I realised the basement had been converted into a home gym. There was a stationary bike, treadmill and weight bench, with a set of dumbbells stacked neatly in their holder. A big TV dominated one wall, which all the equipment faced. My mouth twitched.
“You’re free to use it whenever you want,” Greid told me, crossing his arms and looking at the room with disinterest. “I used to work out a lot more, but”—he shrugged—“can’t be bothered much anymore.”
I chuckled, glancing at his long, lanky frame. “Well, you seem to still be in pretty good shape,” I said cheerfully, aiming for a platonic, friendly tone and not one that would make him feel uncomfortable.
He grunted. “Super high metabolism. A demiurgus thing.”
“I’ll probably use it,” I said, back to admiring the high-spec equipment. “I sometimes ducked out of our mandatory daily exercise sessions at the compound, but I like working out fairly often.”
I also liked food, and used to sneak a lot of snacks into my room, which was why I wasn’t as svelte or slim as all the others in the cult. But I was healthy—almost irritatingly healthy thanks to the cult’s strict diet—and I loved my body. It was soft and comfortable and mine. I liked my soft belly and wide hips. Life was far too fucking short to deny yourself things for the sake of someone else’s warped, singular idea of beauty.
Besides, it was no one’s fucking business what I looked like but my own. Aunt Violet had drilled that into me when I was a teenager, after one of the cult members made a sly comment about my “healthy appetite”. It was one of the few times I could remember seeing my aunt get truly angry. She’d yelled at the member, told me I was perfect, and had been tense and nervous in the days that followed, like she’d been waiting for the high priest to kick us both out.
“Well, you’ll get more use out of it than I do these days.” Greid turned for the stairs, so I followed him back up and out of the narrow corridor to the main hallway.
From there, he led me into the kitchen, which was as dark and cluttered as the rest of what I’d seen, but he flicked on the spotlights to illuminate the gleaming black marble countertops and copper fixtures. A huge silver fridge-freezer hummed in the corner, and a big butcher’s block dominated the centre of the space, the chopping board on its surface pitted with knife cuts.
