Page 12 of Currency in Flesh

“You have five,” he snapped back. “As I already said, I need to go by the office. I’m leaving at eight, with or without you.”

I adjusted uncomfortably in the seats of the Range Rover. The Theia sheath dress I had chosen was nowhere near as flattering, and I no longer felt sexy or confident, but it didn’t matter. Sean had grunted his approval when I met him at the door, and it looked nice with his suit. I wore no jewelry.

Our stop at Sean’s office had been quick, but put him in an even less pleasant mood. The lights of the city whipped past, and I had to grab onto the door handle as we took a turn much too quickly. I knew better than to comment on Sean’s driving when he was like this. It would start a fight and I wanted to have a nice night. Maybe after a few glasses of wine he would be in better spirits.

Sean ordered for us both, selecting a bottle of Pauillac I would probably hate, and I excused myself to the restroom.What are you doing?I felt lost. Lately, things had been shit. Sean and I had been fighting more and more, and it felt like he was trying to dictate nearly everything I did. The dress wasn’t the first time where it seemed like he demanded just to be demanding. I ran cool water over my wrists like my therapist suggested, trying to calm myself and push past the anxious knot in my chest.

My period was late, and I was so hopeful.So hopeful.Even if Sean didn’t love me the way I wished he would, maybe somebody would. A little somebody with brown hair and brown eyes and a cute, dimpled smile.

Sean had already poured two glasses of wine by the time I returned to our table. My eyeliner was fixed and I had managed to slow the racing beat of my heart. He set a glass in front of me without looking up from his phone, reaching for his and holding it up in a sort of lazy toast.

I took one long drink of the bitter, dark wine. Despite being such a nice restaurant, I saw smudged fingerprints on the glass and felt the grit of poorly washed dishes on my tongue.

I clinked our glasses together without smiling. “Happy anniversary baby.”

CHAPTER NINE

Unlike before, when we walked down the tidy paved walkway, Lady Cora led me down what felt like an endless flight of stairs. With each descending step it felt warmer and drier. By the time we reached the bottom, my skin felt stretched taut and the faint breeze felt like opening an oven. As blistering air blew over my face I struggled to see my surroundings. This space was dark, lit only by a line of wall-mounted candles which stretched down as far as I could see. I passed Lady Cora, striding to the center of the space and running my hand over an open wooden frame. It was taller than me by a couple feet, the faint flicker of candlelight glinting off metal rings nestled in its corners.

The silence was unnerving. I hadn’t realized how much ambient noise existed in the other parts of the Underworld until it was gone. Down here, it was like a tomb.

“I thought you said we were coming to see my—” I sucked in a shaky breath. “To see Sean.” I looked back over my shoulder to where she stood.

“I thought perhaps you would appreciate time and space tothink about things first,” she replied. “And he is otherwise indisposed at the moment, anyway.”

My forehead crinkled. “Time to think about what? I know what kind of man Sean is. What is there to think about?”

The rhythmic sound of her steps was like a ticking clock, counting down to some unknown detonation. She stood near enough to touch and my weight drifted to the balls of my feet before I had noticed my own movement. Her eyes bore into mine with a gravity I didn’t like, but she didn’t find whatever she was looking for—swiveling to gesture toward a plain black cabinet I hadn’t noticed against the wall.

“What’s that?” I asked. My skin pebbled as every hair on my arms stood on end. I used to enjoy horror films—the weightless-stomach feeling when the music hit a sharp note and you knew something terrible was about to occur. But now, facing it in real time, I wanted to throw up. Maybe she was right. Did I want to do this? Want to see him? What was I even planning to do?

My hands shook slightly, and I couldn’t bring myself to move toward the ordinary, utilitarian cabinet. Dread threatened to drown me, filling my lungs with black, tarry fear of the unknown. Fear of what lay within a seemingly innocuous cabinet. I flinched when Lady Cora touched me. It wasn’t a touch of comfort or encouragement. It was the cautious way you placed a hand on the back of a horse as you walked behind it, like I might lash out at anything in my vicinity. I was a startled beast.

“You are not ready to be here,” she said. There was no question in her words. She raised a hand to pull aside the fabric of reality. My eyes never left the cabinet.

The room I had begun to think of as “mine” came into focus all around us. Books still lie strewn haphazardly across the small table, the bed was still unmade. I was suddenly exhausted. I imagined crawling into it and pulling the plush comforter upover my head like a child. But I didn’t know what Lady Cora intended, why she was even still here.

My fingers found the laces of the corset at my back, tugging them free and exhaling with relief when my stomach wasn’t tightly bound anymore. The dress I wore wasn’t uncomfortable, but all I wanted was sweatpants. Laughter bubbled up my throat in a nearly manic burst. Once it had begun, I couldn’t stop—the thought of wearing sweatpants in the presence of Lady Cora seemed so preposterous, and realizing how bizarre everything had become shattered the fragile hold I had on my sanity.

My laughter turned to tears, and I buried my face in my hands, hiding behind the dark curtain of my hair. By the time I lifted my head, Lady Cora was gone.

I awoketo the sound of someone in my room, nearly falling out of the bed in my frantic struggle to get to my feet. Anna looked up with an amused smirk, arranging a pile of fruit in a bowl atop the table. The books had been stacked neatly, and now there was a simple table with two Danish modern dining chairs a few paces from my bed.

“Jesus,” I breathed, pushing my hair back and wrapping the comforter around my apparently naked body. “What are you doing here?”

She giggled, and it was such a sweet sound, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness remembering that Anna was dead. “Charis summoned me. He told me to bring you some fruit and… How did he say it? Social stimulation.” She laughed again. “I think he meant I should hang out with you. My name is Anna.”

“What?” My eyes felt sandy, closing as I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t exactly know what that means, but you’reobviously welcome. I wasn’t expecting guests—” my eyes flicked down to my blanket toga. “I don’t even know where any clothes are. And I know your name, Anna. We met yesterday.”

Anna bustled through the room like she’d been here a million times, crossing to a wardrobe that hadn’t been there the night before. “If it’s anything like the meadows—things sorta just appear when you need them. It’s weird, and it is an adjustment for sure.” She didn’t say anything about us having met. The doors swung open, and we both looked inside expectantly.

There seemed to be a small assortment of casual attire and a row of more upscale dresses, blouses, and pants hung from felt-lined wooden hangers. Everything was dark—black, plum, deep teal. Anna pushed the hangers to one side, and I stifled a laugh when I saw a single pair of pink sweatpants folded neatly beneath a plain white tee. “Can she actually read my thoughts?” I mused aloud, not really intending for Anna to answer.

There was both reverence and fear gilding her words when she answered. “She can do anything down here. She’s the Goddess of the dead.”

I scoffed, but… She wasn’t wrong. I had seen her do countless impossible things. Maybe something in my mind was broken, that I had been so quick to accept this as reality. I hadn’t considered her words fully when I’d asked what she was. I wasn’t sure what answer I was looking for, but was there really any other definition?

Reaching past Anna, I grabbed the sweats and pulled them on under the blanket. Later, I would play the role Lady Cora had clearly cast me in, but I wanted to be comfortable. I turned my back to Anna when I tugged the shirt over my head, the memory of fire in Lady Cora’s eyes filling my thoughts and making me think she might not like someone else seeing my naked body.

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