Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,47
human. Humans are plain. We like yes or no answers and black and white issues. Anything beyond that, we struggle with.”
“Is this a segue to calling my ancestors slave owners again?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as we walked.
“No.” My lips pursed. “Mine were no better. This island has a lot of deep, dark secrets we don’t talk about and there’s a reason for that. When secrets surface, we can no longer hide from our truth.”
“I think we can finally agree on something,” he said. “But for the record, my grandparents were married in secret because their love was forbidden and I like to think they were in love.”
“You didn’t strike me as the hopeless romantic type.”
“What did I strike you as?” His eyes glittered in amusement.
“I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“Hm.” He looked toward the party we were nearing again and I wondered if he ever felt flattered by anything he heard anymore.
“Are the same people invited to the gala every year?”
“Not every year, but the ones who aren’t invited back beg for an invite.”
“Why?” I laughed. “The party is fine and all, but I haven’t seen anything spectacular. No offense.”
“That’s because you haven’t walked into any of the rooms.” He quirked an eyebrow as we reached the edge of the hall, where the house opened up once more and the foyer was packed with people.
“You act like I’m going to experience some sort of magical thing in them.” I turned to him, not ready to join the festivities just yet.
“In plain terms.” He faced me as well. “You just might.”
“In plain terms magic doesn’t exist.”
“According to that logic, this island doesn’t exist. I don’t exist. We don’t exist.” River smiled, but it was a smile that spoke of a million sad tales. He brought a hand to my face. “They’re not fables, little witch.”
“If they’re not fables, why would you live here? How would you survive this house if it really is full of deceit?”
“Isn’t every house deceitful in one way or another?”
“Not the way you’re saying, not with magic and disappearing acts.”
“Maybe you should go into one of the rooms and see for yourself.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe I will.” I jutted my chin up.
I was always up for a dare, after all. I glanced at a woman walking out of one of the rooms. She’d been wearing a flapper-looking dress, but it was now just barely hanging on her. Her lipstick was running down her face and her updo was completely undone. She looked like she’d been having sex in the room. And when a man followed closely behind her, zipping up his trousers, I knew they definitely had been.
“Is this an orgy?” I looked at River again.
“Some people partake in orgies.”
“Do you?” I swallowed. I didn’t know why I asked, but I was curious.
“I have.”
“Will you tonight?”
“Do you want to?”
“Do I want to participate in an orgy?” I blinked. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I won’t either.” He chuckled. “You are my guest, after all.”
“Which is exactly why I assume you have something planned for me. Mayra seems to have an idea as to why I’m here.”
“Why do you think you’re here?”
“I don’t know.” I bit my lip, still looking at him. He was impossible to look away from. “I can’t help but think you want me, like actually want me, and I don’t understand why.”
“Come.” He offered me his hand. I looked at it for a moment before taking it and letting him lead me back into the party.
The moment we stepped away from the hallway, music blasted us. It was jarring. I looked around quickly, looked behind us, looked forward. Had it been playing all along? It was lively, a Cuban Son, to be exact. I only knew it because back in the day, we used to island hop—a little bachata in Dominican Republic, a little salsa in Puerto Rico, and a little Son in Cuba. Hearing it reminded me of my parents and thinking of them made me sad again, grief rolling through me like a wave. I thought of Wela, who said this was a celebration of life and that my father dying this week was a great honor. Of course, she’d meant Carnival back on Pan. I highly doubted she’d approve of my being here in Dolos, in the Caliban Manor, of all places.
“River,” a man with a British accent called out, walking toward us quickly. He was handsome, of Indian decent, with a full beard that