Page 70 of Just for a Taste

“A job I wouldn’t entrust to anyone else,” he said, ruffling my hair. “The time will go more quickly if you look around a little. I’m relying on you to pick out some music, too, of course, as well as our next book.”

A grin spread across my face. “We’re going to keep reading together here?”

“Of course. Nothing gives me more pleasure,passerotta.” He lifted his balaclava just enough to expose his lips, grabbed me by the chin, and planted a rough kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t leave the house, okay?”

I nodded, a bit taken aback but too excited to look around to ask questions. The moment he left, I eagerly began my search.

Chapter 36: Stagione

As I soon discovered, each room felt different in design, and the house must have been steadily built from a hiding spot into a proper dwelling.

The hallway itself was far more lavish than the one that had brought me intola cantina. Its walls were covered with such intricate crimson-and-gold Moroccan wallpaper, I felt compelled to stop and admire it. Even more beautiful were the massive romantic landscapes and golden sconces between each door. I peered into the first room on the left, and upon seeing bookcases, quickly shut the door again. Who would eat dessert before dinner, and similarly, who would see the archives before the rest of the house?

The room beyond it was a straightforward dining room, decorated in traditional 1920s Italian fashion. Though small and rustic in feel, it housed a crystal chandelier, crystal glassware, a porcelain vase, and countless other fragile things that gave me the same swell of anxiety as the china section of an antiques store. Holding my breath and sucking in my stomach, I stepped around a Queen Anne dining chair and into a modern kitchen. Granite and steel surrounded me here, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the stoves had ever actually been used.

Across from the kitchen and dining room was the master bedroom, a familiar sight. It carried the essence of Zeno’s room at the abbey, a Renaissance-style bedroom with crimson and black, satin and lace. A single four-poster canopy bed with matching nightstands on either side.

I gulped. One bed. We’d be sleeping in one bed.

I stepped slowly in front of the vanity and stared long and hard in the mirror. This was the face he’d wake up to, and the small, slender body he’d hold at night.

One part of me was terrified of sharing a room so soon, while the other part wondered why it had taken so long.

I was deep in thought when I first noticed birdsong, so distant I almost thought I was imagining it. My attention went to the massive curtain covering the entire opposite wall. I crossed the room slowly, brow knitting, and took hold of the curtain. The cloth was heavy and thick, and I could not easily cast it aside. Instead, I had to swim into the dark curtains, only to be plunged into light.

Utter confusion stunned my muscles, and the curtain fell over my back. Before me was overwhelming light—sunlight. I rushed out of the room and forced my way into the most tightly locked door of all, beside the bedroom. It gave with great effort, revealing an outdoor courtyard on the other side.

I realizedla cantinahad been built into a mountain, and this courtyard had been carved into its outer face. Much of the natural stone had been preserved in the outcrop, now fashioned into sculptures and the bases of topiaries. Local clay formed the pottery and vases which housed small but flourishing fruit trees and flowers. How the greenery had been so well-maintained on such a remote estate was a mystery, but something I appreciated nonetheless. It wouldn’t feel like I was living underground.

A set of chirps greeted my arrival and drew my attention to the nest of sparrows in a persimmon tree. Now I wouldn’t miss the finches or Leonore so much either.

I took a seat on a bench and breathed in the cool mountain air. A glass wall similarly partitioned the other side of the courtyard, but the sunlight made it impossible to see the interior. With no other option but to satiate my curiosity, I abandoned my place and went to examine this new room.

The bathroom consisted almost entirely of a modern open shower, with that half of the room formed of marble, except for the courtyard-facing wall. Instead of stone, two sliding glass panels made up the courtyard-facing wall of the bathroom, allowing the shower to open up to the outside. The first panel was clear, and the second was tinted, so vampires could shower while still being able to see the courtyard.

I was tempted to abandon my search then and there, to stand beneath the rainfall showerhead and let warm spring water flow over my body while watching birds flit across the mountains. Or perhaps I could sink into the whirlpool tub built into the stone itself and let the world wash away.

Both options sounded divine, yet neither of these earthly delights could overshadow my excitement for the penultimate room of the house: the archive.

The door to the archive had almost as many locks as the entrance tola cantinaitself, but those had been unlocked for me by Zeno prior to his departure. I tossed aside padlocks and used all of my bodyweight to push the door open.

Based on the dust that permeated the air and covered the furniture, it was unlikely anyone had entered it since Zeno was a child. In the corner was a large desk and matching chair, but the rest of the room could more accurately be called archival storage than anything else. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed in tight rows with loosely organized documents and folders stacked on top of one another in small cubbies. The papers ranged from slightly yellowed to nearly falling apart, and I cringed to think of what would happen if book louse or mold were to enter this place.

I whipped out my phone and typed out a text to Zeno, knowing full well I’d have to wait until surfacing to for it to deliver:

I’m going to need a dehumidifier,pesticide,cleaning supplies, a respirator, and soejbewsdfg

The message had already been sent. I frowned and started another one.

Sorry, I sneezed. Anyway, all that and some notebooks and pens, STAT. xoxo

I erased the last four characters, pressed send, then pocketed my phone.

Even though I was too nervous to properly examine anything until I had my tools, I carefully stepped between the shelves to glance over what I would work with the next few weeks. Rather promising were several stacks of what appeared to be letters, so old they would have been dust by now if they hadn’t been laminated. Beside them were several hand-bound notebooks stuffed with receipts, envelopes with old photos peeking out, and leather-bound books.

Tucked in the corner, on top of a shelf, was a dark box. It was cleaner than the rest of the room and had clearly been handled within the past few years. Despite my initial intention to deep-clean the room before touching anything, I was too curious to wait.

A ladder was necessary, but nothing in the room looked remotely trustworthy to stand on. Eventually, I settled on testing my luck with a shifty-looking crate in the corner. My stomach flopped, and I clutched onto the shelf as the crate wobbled beneath my feet. I took a deep breath and reached up but was still a bit too short.

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