I chuckled. “Nope, that’s it. It all fit in two suitcases.”
He shot me an alarmed look. “Really?”
“Yep.”
After a moment of silence, he huffed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We can”—a slight shudder wracked his lanky frame—“go shopping if you want. Or you could look online and order some stuff.”
“I will.” I smiled at him. “When I have a job.”
I could tell he wanted to protest, but when he glanced over at me and ultimately stayed quiet, I knew he could sense how important it was to me. To become truly independent. To no longer take the easy route.
I already suspected that Greid would give me whatever I wanted if I asked, but I didn’t want to use him for that. I’d already be living in his home and eating his food. Maybe I could find other ways to pay him back before I got a job. I could learn to cook, or I could… I don’t know, be his jewellery-making assistant. Although something told me he was very particular about his work and would be horrified to have me pawing at it with my clumsy human hands.
I furtively glanced at his hands as he drove. They were nice hands. Masculine and elegant, his fingers much longer than a human’s, and with delicate veins winding under his black skin. His little claws were cute.
When his hand slid off the steering wheel to rest casually in his lap, I quickly looked away, my mind immediately conjuring memories of him telling me that the people at the cult had very, very wrong ideas about demiurgus anatomy.
He hadn’t explained, and it wasn’t like it would even matter, but… he was wearing grey sweats. I couldn’t risk looking in that general area for too long unless I wanted to learn more about him than he was willing to offer. Instead, I looked back out the window as the city drew closer and closer. The car was warm, but a faint breeze snuck in through Greid’s open window. It pushed his oddly comforting and slightly sweet scent toward me, and I found myself relaxing into my seat.
When I glanced back through the rear window, The Order’s hill was far, far behind us.
I smiled.
Chapter Ten
Beryl
I’d been in the city several times over my years with the cult, but we were driving toward a part of it I’d never gone near before.
The Cimmerian District was a mid-to-upper-scale part of the city inhabited almost exclusively by demiurgus, specifically by demiurgus who were pretty well-off. Well-off enough to own a house in a city, but not so eye-wateringly rich that they lived in the dark, gloomy mansions that edged the nicest part of the park, nor the expensive nesthouses on the lower floors of the giant termite-nest buildings. Humans equated wealth with being at the top of buildings in penthouses, above everyone else. Demiurgus liked being close to the ground, so their nesthouses were always located on the lowest, widest floors of their big structures.
I stared in fascination, my nose practically pressed to the glass, as the tall redbrick buildings suddenly turned to dark stone. Big, airy windows were replaced by tiny, haphazardly placed ones made of brightly coloured stained glass with wrought iron frames. Stoops were lined with unusual potted flowers and plants—dinner plate-sized blooms with velvety cobalt petals and bright pink stamens, and clusters of tiny, anaemic white flowers with delicate orange stems and leaves. Thick, hairy vines that looked almost like tentacles crept between porch railings and up the fronts of houses. Hanging baskets spilled over with plants that looked like strings of pearls, iridescent in the afternoon sun.
The majority of people walking down this street were demiurgus, all in their humanoid skins. Some were dressed sharply, in well-fitted suits and curve-skimming skirts and jackets, while others wore flowy, expensive-looking dresses and wide-brimmed hats, or simple jeans and sweaters. All of them had the same obsidian skin as Greid, and while some had black hair that glimmered emerald green like his, others had hints of pink or blue or purple.
There were some humans as well, walking casually along the sidewalks or ducking into stores that catered to a mostly demiurgus clientele. We drove past a nail salon advertising its three-colour ombre special for claws over an inch long. A swanky-looking wine merchant had a subtle sign in the window promoting its new selection of cheeses that paired well with nightberry wine. There was a tiny, upscale grocery store that specialised in imported food—specifically, imported from the demiurgus’ mysterious homeland buried deep in the earth.
The car crawled to a stop as the lights up ahead turned red. I ignored Greid’s mutter about city traffic as I stared at the cute little coffee place just outside my window. The inside looked dark but inviting, with stained-glass lamps placed on every table and a big counter stretching along one wall, the two demiurgus behind it smiling cheerfully and chatting with waiting customers.
Pretty black metal tables and chairs lined the sidewalk outside, most of them filled by demiurgus who sipped from steaming copper cups. A human and demiurgus duo stepped outside, laughing together about something, and I eyed their cardboard takeout cups with envy as they passed.
I’d only ever smelled coffee before, while walking past a café out in the city with some of the other cult members, and it had smelled so good. The high priest regarded caffeine as a terrible drug, so we weren’t allowed to drink it—or any other caffeinated beverages—at the compound “for the good of our health”. I’d been sorely tempted to try it before, but I knew one of the other members would have ratted me out, so I hadn’t.
The car started moving again, but it was only another few minutes before Greid was pulling over to the side of the road. My gut clenched with nerves as he killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. I quickly followed suit, climbing out of the car on slightly shaky legs and staring up at the tall, dark stone building in front of me. We’d turned onto a quieter, leafy street with lots of trees lining the sidewalk, and the identical demiurgus-built townhouses sat in somewhat neat rows all the way down to the next corner.
They were more uniform than the termite nest-looking high-rises, which I supposed made sense, given how closely they were all packed together. But the houses looked pretty big—narrow but tall, with maybe three or four storeys.
Greid’s house—assuming I was looking at the right one and he hadn’t just parked in the first available spot on the street—had the same pretty stained-glass windows as the others I’d seen. One on the top floor was open, and when he saw me looking as he came up next to me with both my suitcases, he winced. “Forgot to close that.”
I looked around, spotting a demiurgus couple pushing a stroller along the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and two old demiurgus men conversing on a stoop with fat black cigars hanging out of their mouths. “It doesn’t seem like a dangerous area.”
“Oh, it’s not,” Greid said quickly, gesturing with a suitcase for me to walk up the front steps. “It’s pretty quiet, and it’s mostly families or people who’ve lived here for years. The next street over—the one we just drove down—is livelier. It’s only a few minutes’ walk. If, uh, if you get bored.”
As Greid stepped up beside me and put down a suitcase to fumble with his keys, I glanced back again. The two old demiurgus had stopped talking and were watching us. Their inhuman faces didn’t express any one emotion particularly strongly, but I suddenly wondered what Greid’s neighbours would think about a human moving into his home.