by K. C. Cross
“It’s not going anywhere,” Pell says. “They can’t see the door, they can’t close the door, and even if we lose sight of it, that door will never lose sight of us.”
I’m not sure what that last part means, I just know it’s more than I understand right now.
We pause at the edge of the dancers and Pell leans down to once again whisper in my ear. “Stop thinking, Pie. Just be here. That’s the only thing this place is good for. It’s just a moment and we get to crash it. There is nothing to fear here. It’s nothing more than magic. It would be a sin not to enjoy it.”
And he’s right, I think. To be in the moment and not live in it is a sin.
So I let him lead me into a dance I do not know, shoulder to shoulder with people who do not exist, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, or stuck in the sanctuary, or hell, if I’m being honest, stuck in this life.
Moments count.
Especially moments like this.
I had nothing going on before Saint Mark’s.
There is nothing in that old life that can compete with this monster man and his magic room.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - PELL
We have no idea what we’re doing. But it doesn’t matter and even though Pie looked nervous as hell when I pulled us into the dance, she got over it as soon as she realized these people truly cannot see us. We are free to be foolish and just have fun with it.
I’m not used to having human feet and legs, but I’ve spent my share of time in these rooms, so it’s like riding a bike.
Pie’s face is flushed and red just a few minutes in, but we keep going, trying our best to keep up with our neighbors, which is impossible, because they just keep switching partners and twirling around in a line, then a circle, then… whatever.
Sometimes the people do see us. But you have to stay a while and really get invested in the moment for that to happen, and about an hour into this, we’re sweaty and laughing too hard from tripping all over ourselves to give any fucks at all about fitting in.
When the current dance ends, we clap, and then I take Pie’s hand and lead her over to the other side of the room where a new door has appeared.
She is confused for a moment, looking at the door we came through first, across the great hall, then the new one. “What’s this?” She’s breathing hard, but her smile is bright and her blue eyes shine in the low-level torch lighting. Subdued shadows flicker across her face as she stares up at me.
“It’s just an option,” I tell her. “That’s all.”
“But where did it come from?”
I look over at the door. It’s exactly like the one we came through to get here. Which is exactly like the one that leads to Saint Mark’s from the front. “Does it matter?”
She shrugs. “I’m just having a hard time accepting the idea that this magical world lives side by side with the normal one.”
“Says the girl with the talking bird. You know what though?”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen that bird talk.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You don’t believe me.”
I chuckle. “Why the hell wouldn’t I believe you?”
“No one believes me.”
“How many people have you told?”
“None. Not in a long time. But trust me, the ones I did tell all thought I was crazy. My mother took me to doctors for years, desperate for a diagnosis. Pia has always been there. And when I was very little, there was no way I could know she wasn’t real. So I just talked about her like any kid would a friend. And everyone was OK with it. For a while. But then, when I went to school, I would talk to Pia during class and sometimes she would give me answers. I was a late reader. The letters just didn’t make sense. But Pia would listen to other kids as they read aloud—she couldn’t read either, still can’t—but she would dictate the story to me. Anyway, it was all very confusing for my teachers and my mother.” She pauses to let out a heavy sigh. “That’s when the doctors took over. I told them all about Pia, and they said that I had to admit she was fake. Just my imaginary friend. And I resisted, so they diagnosed me with schizophrenia when I was six.”
“Well… fuck. I’m sorry that happened, Pie. But you’re not crazy.”
“I know. I mean…” She looks down, trying to pull off a laugh. “I get it. There’s something more to this world and for whatever reason, I’ve been given a glimpse of it.” She looks back up at me. “But it’s not easy living in the wrong world, ya know?”
I think about that for a moment. The wrong world. Is that what it is? Could it be that simple? We’re just in the wrong world?
I keep eye contact with Pie as I nod my head at the new door. “So. How about we go find the right one?”
She studies the new door, then looks over her shoulder at the old one before meeting my gaze again. “Will we get lost?”
“We can’t get lost. Trust me, I’ve tried. There are some pretty cool places in these hallways. I’ve found a few that I wouldn’t mind staying in. Like, forever. But, unfortunately, the rooms move on. They are always moving. And you don’t go with them. If you don’t find your own way back, the hallways just rearrange themselves until eventually, there you are. Standing at the top of the stairwell, looking down at the sanctuary through the tall stained-glass windows.”
“How long can you be lost?”
“I don’t know. No one ever knew I was gone. Hell, I was gone the other day for a while. I had to find pants.”
This makes her guffaw. “This is how you found pants?”
“Yep. There’s a cool closet room hidden up here. And sometimes, when you come up the stairs with a certain thing in mind, the hallway gods will take pity on you and give you what you’re asking for. And the hallways were on your side that day, Pie Vita. Because I came back with pants, didn’t I?” There is no way she can stop her eyes from migrating down to my package underneath my leather pants. “Looks good in this, doesn’t it?”
She pretends to slap my chest. But it’s playful.
“So, do you want to try to go back? Or forward?”
A small bit of panic flashes across her face. “What do you mean try to go back?”
“It’s never straightforward. If you go back through the door you came in, you’ll be closer to where you started than if you leave through the one going forward. But it usually takes a few rooms to get home.”
“You’re sure we can’t get lost?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
She lets out a breath. “All right. Then let’s go forward.”
I hold up a hand. “One word of caution. The places we go… they’re not… they’re not, um… how do I put this?” She has no idea what I’m trying to say, so she offers up no help. “They’re not family-friendly.” This is when she looks around and realizes that there are people fucking in dark corners. “This room is tame. There are some that… well. Sex parties were a thing in my time. And I always end up back in my time eventually.”
“The hallway gods send you what you need, do they?” She blushes immediately after saying this.
“I’m just warning you. They don’t all look like this. In fact, most of them have no people in them. It’s just a place. Like you have arrived at the wrong time. In between parties.”
“Are they all parties, then? The ones with people?”
“Hmm. I’ve never thought about it. But yeah, I guess they are.”
“OK, I’m all for going forward. But one more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you always look like a human in here?”
“No. Not always.”
She narrows her eyes at me. Like she can almost hear the words I’m not saying. “Buuuut… There’s a but after that. So spill it. What’s the but?”
I just want her to be prepared. I’m not a human and these human legs aren’t doing me any favors for making that case. And she’s used to them now. Used to me being like this. S
o. I just want her to be prepared when I revert back to what I really am. A monster. “Most of the time,” I say. “I do look like a human. But if I don’t, we’ll be in the forest and I was the object of a minor cult in my Roman days.”
“OK. I don’t like the sound of this. A cult?”
“That’s just what we call the followers.”
“You had followers?” Her look is one of doubt.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I was just asking.”
“It wasn’t a big cult. And my involvement in it has been lost to obscurity—”
“Can you just—I mean, I don’t want to be rude here, but can you just tell me what this means? You’re killing my happy buzz, Pell.”
“It doesn’t really mean anything.” I smile at her. Because this is starting to make her nervous. “There could be virgins, Pie Vita. That’s all I’m saying.”
She guffaws so loud, some of the people actually hear her and turn in our direction, looking confused. “Virgins?”
“You know.” I shrug. “Offerings and shit?”
“For you to… what? Kill?”
“No.” I make a face at her and guffaw. “To fuck. What the hell, Pie?”
She laughs again, and this time I’m certain that we’re visible to the drunk Viking wedding party. Our laughter is too loud, our presence here palpable. “OK,” she says, once she’s calmed down. “So I am supposed to… what? Watch?”
My eyes narrow down. “Do you want to watch?”
“Not especially. But”—she smirks at me—“you put me in a costume and there’s no telling what I’ll be up for. Halloween night, exhibit A.”
I picture her in that outfit she showed up in, then grab her and pull her towards the new door. “I think we’re gonna be fine. And let’s get out of here before that big guy with the ax decides he wants to fight me.”
Even after two thousand years, there is always a sense of apprehension and excitement when I approach a door. It never gets old. The wonder of what you might find on the other side of that door never disappears. Even when I’ve come up here raging drunk and out of my mind with anger, my heart pauses mid-beat when I step through.
But this time, it’s more than that. It’s a held breath. It’s a weird feeling in my stomach. And when Pie and I come out on the other side, we’re in a gloomy, empty room dressed in plain clothes.
“It’s an attic,” Pie says. And she’s right. The windows are small and circular. Only two of them, one on each endcap of a pitched roof. Outside gray clouds are rolling and when I walk over to the window, I know when we are.
“World War I,” I mutter. Then I grab her hand again. “We’re not gonna to stop here. There’s no point.” She doesn’t argue, but it takes a moment for the magic to catch up and produce a new door.
This time when we walk though, we come out into a stifling heat and when I look down and find myself in the long, white toga of a Roman citizen, I can’t stop the smile.
Pie is looking down at her clothes as well. She is wearing a stola, but a short one that barely comes to her knees. No shoes. This means she is not a citizen, not a wife in this room, but some kind of slave. The stola has a fine embroidered edge though, which means she belongs to someone wealthy.
Me.
“Well.” She huffs. “That’s fucking special. I’m no expert in ancient fashion, but it’s pretty clear who I am in this scenario.” She leans up on her tiptoes and whispers, “I’m not even wearing underwear!”
I wink at her. “Neither am I.”
She blushes, then turns away so I can’t see it. “So where are we?”
I look around. I would not call this place familiar in the sense that I’ve ever been here, but this long room flanked on both sides with traditional Doric columns and marble floors is something I recognize. “Party room in a palace, from the looks of it.”
“It’s a pretty boring party, since we’re the only ones here.”
A new door appears on the other end of the room and I nod my head in that direction. “Do you want to move on? There are endless places to discover. We don’t have to stay.”
“There’s food over there. Do you think it’s good?”
“It’s not real food, so it doesn’t matter. You can eat all you want in here. It even tastes good. But it’s magic. It’s not food. So you will be very hungry when we get back.”
She lets go of my hand and walks over to the spread of meats, and cheeses, and fruit. “I don’t recognize anything.”
I join her at the table, grab a flask, and pour us both cups of wine. “Might as well start with the alcohol.”
She smiles again and I find that I’m looking for it now. I’m trying to make her smile. I would not call Pie a stunning girl. Cute is actually a very good word for her. She’s got very pretty long, blonde hair. And it’s a true blonde, not a light brown. And her eyes are blue and wide, and this looks good on her. But her face… her face is just a young face. Symmetrical, unblemished, with a perky nose and somewhat round cheeks. No harsh edges to this girl. It’s all very soft. All very cute.
And I like it. I don’t mind looking at her. In fact, she almost seems like a… reward. After all these centuries being stuck with men, some not very attractive at all—and Tomas, of course, who is attractive, but his good looks are more than just deceiving, they are lies—Pie is a present wrapped up in a bow, because she’s more than just her beauty. Her personality is quite fun.
Pie takes her cup and sips. “Mm. It’s good. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s a little sweet.”
I sniff it and the scent conjures up barely-there memories of long-ago days when sipping wine for breakfast was just how it was done.
“You’re smiling,” Pie says.
“Mm. This wine is familiar. All of this is kind of familiar.”
“So you’ve been here?”
“No. And it’s not my era. Maybe a hundred years off, but it’s close enough.”
Pie picks up a red grape and studies it, then pops it into her mouth. “I think I get it. It would be like me being thrust into a far future where nothing is like it is now. I mean, holy shit. The wheel was a newfangled thing back in your day.”
I laugh loudly. “That’s so not accurate. We were engineers. We built the greatest cities this planet has ever seen. We had running water, and bathrooms, and the gods, of course. They were here, back then.”
She points at me with her cup. “You were one of them.”
“No,” I admit. “A wood spirit, and not much more. But like I said, I had my own small cult. So men would pray to me on the hunt.”
“And would you give them a deer, or whatever?”
I shrug. “Sometimes. But there was a deer spirit too, and he wasn’t inclined to make deals with me unless he got something in return.”
“What did the deer spirit want?”
“Girls.”
Pie laughs out loud. “OK. I should’ve seen that coming.”
“And wood nymphs”—I shake my head—“they are not stupid. The deer spirit, he wasn’t well liked. So I had to charm them… and it was just a lot of work to deliver on a hunt prayer. So. Whatever. I was usually just drunk. And the girls were amicable if you weren’t trying to sell them into slavery, so they liked me better when I let the hunters go hungry.”
“Ah. Now I understand your fascination with wood nymphs.”
I nod. Can’t stop the grin. “That would be why.”
“Well, I’ve been told that I’m not a wood nymph.”
“Not even close,” I mutter. “That’s not a bad thing, by the way. They’re very treacherous to navigate around.”
She huffs. “I feel like you’re not appreciating my bad-girl side. I’m a rebel too.”
“Sure you are.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not even a little bit.”
She eats another grape, drinks her wine, looks around, chewing and swallowing. “What do you think is on the other side of that door?�
�
She’s pointing to a regular door belonging to this time, and not a portal door. “This is a palace, so… the usual. Debauchery, decadence, depravity. Just a bunch of wickedness.”
“So are we waiting for the party to come to us? Or what’s the deal? Are we going to the orgy or what? I want to explore. Are you coming?”
She’s kidding. I can tell. Her words are filled with laughter. But hey, if she wants to see a Roman orgy, I’m not turning that down. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
I start heading in the direction of the interior palace door, but she pulls on me. “Wait. Can we get lost if we go exploring? Do we have to backtrack to this room? How does that work?”
I pause and smile at her. “You didn’t think I’d say yes to your orgy plan, did you?”
She straightens. I called her bluff and now she’s nervous. But she’s too proud to admit she’s nervous, so now she’s gotta go with it. “There are no orgies. Just another lie.”
“Ohhh.” I guffaw at that and cross my heart with a fingertip. “I swear. Orgies all day, every day. This is what the emperor does. And depending on who is emperor right now, it could get really sketchy. If this is Caligula’s Rome, there’s no telling what’s going on in this palace.”
She squints her eyes at me. “You’re afraid.”
“That’s it.” I drag her to the door, and before she can object any further, I open it and pull her through with me.
“It’s empty.” She sounds disappointed.
“It’s a hallway, Pie.”
“Hallway?” She looks up and around at the massive room.
“Just a way to get to the other rooms. Pick one.”
She heads for the first one, pulling me with her, and sends me a smirk over her shoulder. “I’m not a good girl. You’ve got me all wrong.”
“You think because I’m wearing the legs of a man, I’m safe, don’t you?”
“On the contrary, Mr. Hornjob. I’m dying to get to the woods and see you in your element. But first, I want to check out the historical shit. This place is like a living museum. I’m not gonna miss out on this educational opportunity.”