Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,25

hour so that people can stand around and talk over it. As we walked farther into the house and I took in the dimly lit hallway and the hall full of mirrors, I wondered if I’d stepped into another century, another lifetime. It felt stuffy inside the house, but then we reached the foyer and it opened up to a party, which changed the mood of the house. It wasn’t that it was light in this area, but everything was vibrant; the people were talking and laughing and drinking and dancing. Everyone was in costume, all black, feathers everywhere. It was . . . oddly cool.

“Master River, your bed has been downturned,” the woman said beside us, her voice low and meek.

“Thank you, Mayra.” River walked toward the people with such an air of importance, that I found myself falling behind until he glanced over his shoulder and looked at me. “Miss Guzman will be staying here tonight. Maybe for the remainder of the week.”

“The remainder of the week?” I rushed forward. “I didn’t agree to that. You said one night.”

“I know what I said, and you’re free to go tomorrow morning,” he said. I breathed out. “That doesn’t mean I won’t choose you again and have you right back here.”

“Why would you . . . ” I swallowed, my heart soaring into my throat. “Why would you pick me twice?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do you want the long version or the short?”

“We already went over all the versions I’m interested in discussing and my answer has not changed nor will it.”

I glanced over at Mayra, who was still standing there. She was staring at me, and what I saw in her eyes was pure, unfiltered hatred, before she turned her face away. The uneasy feeling inside me grew, an ivy that wrapped around my innards and held tight.

“Where will Miss Guzman be staying?” Mayra asked, her eyes still cast at the floor.

“My bedroom.”

“She . . .” Mayra’s head snapped up, her mouth growing tight. “What will Doña Sarah say? And Don Wilfredo?”

“I personally don’t care what either of them have to say about it.”

“Very well.” She swallowed and took a step back. “Does Miss Guzman have luggage?”

“She does not. I’ll need Gustavo to bring her a trunk. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a party to attend.” River offered me his arm. I put mine in it reluctantly.

“Sure thing.” Mayra bowed and walked away, disappearing into a dark hallway on the other side.

“I . . . I need to use the restroom,” I said.

“Again?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

He escorted me to a door. “I’ll be nearby.”

“Okay.” I set my hand on the round doorknob.

“I trust that you know you can’t go anywhere tonight.” He shot me a look. “You’re staying with me.”

“I already agreed to.” I jutted my chin up. “It doesn’t mean I want to.”

“That’s funny, I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

I rolled my eyes and opened the bathroom door. It was either that or slap the arrogance off him. I shut it behind me and was grateful to find the light already on, though upon further investigation I realized the light was coming from two gas lamps. The bathroom itself was small, only a toilet and a sink with a mirror. The entire thing was tiled in black and white squares, from floor to ceiling, giving it a trippy appearance. I did my business, flushed the toilet, and started washing my hands, concentrating on the soap as I rinsed it off. When I looked up at my reflection, there was a dark figure behind me. I gasped, turning around quickly, but there was nothing there. I blinked, and blinked, and nothing. My heart pumped harder. I dried my hands quickly and left the bathroom in such a hurry, I ran into someone.

“I am—”

“Never mind.” It was Mayra. I’d never seen anyone with such hollowed eyes. “Sir River awaits you.”

“Yes.” I blinked away from her and looked at the crowd of people in search of him.

When I found him, I walked over. He had a drink in his hand that he was lowering as he looked over at me, at the necklace I wore around my neck, a gift from my grandmother. One of the many that I wore but didn’t necessarily believe in.

“Saint Olga, the saint of all widows.” He hid a small smile behind a glass of scotch. “You have to hand it to the Catholic Church for not bothering to hide their sinners’ pasts before idolizing