Page 73 of Going to Hell
Ignoring the still steaming bath, I slid under the furs and closed my eyes.
* * *
“Why can’t this be real?”
The soft question penetrated my dream where I’d been at the academy, teaching advanced math. The dwarf, Yanet, had brought me a new book. The excitement over having something to do when I got home lingered.
“I want this to be real.” A hand moved over my side. “She still smells like the sun.”
For a groggy moment, my two worlds overlapped when I realized I wouldn’t be bored or lonely again for a time.
I exhaled contentedly and moved my fingers over Hades’ bare chest before I caught myself. His fingers closed over mine when they stopped moving.
“More. I will give you anything. Knives? Souls? The sun? You can have it all.”
I lifted my head, less afraid of his crazy talk than when he showed his menace.
“I’m not really interested in any of that. But if you can figure out how to make me a toothbrush and a shower, I’ll wash your back like you wanted me to.”
I blamed my yearning for home and my fuzzy head for the thoughtless suggestion. The last thing I wanted to do was wash his back.
And he seemed to feel the same way.
Frozen, he stared at me, appearing very unhappy with my offer. I shrugged, hiding my relief, and returned my head to his shoulder.
“Explain what you mean by toothbrush,” he said.
Latching onto the safer topic, I slipped my hand out from under his and turned enough to use my other hand to gesture.
“It’s a plastic stick about this long with bristles on it that I use to clean my teeth twice a day.”
“Ah.” He produced a twig and handed it to me.
“It’s, ah, missing its bristles.”
He turned his head, his stare just a little judgmental.
“Chew it, and it will clean your teeth.”
Shrugging, I popped the end into my mouth and tasted hints of licorice when I bit down. I turned the twig and bit again, feeling a tad like a puppy with a chew toy.
Hades watched me, anger and suspicion gone from his eyes. He almost looked…happy was the wrong word and would have been too much of a stretch. Content fit a little better.
Content Hades was less scary than angry Hades. At least, until he petted the curve of my hip with the arm still trapped under me.
I sat up quickly and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. He didn’t complain as I made my way to the vanity. In the mirror’s reflection, I watched the way he sat up with a stretch.
“Tell me more about the shower we want,” he said, turning toward me.
I pulled the twig out of my mouth and considered how to explain something to a guy who knew nothing about modern plumbing.
“It’s a sprinkle of water, like rain, that comes out of an opening above your head. It’s hot, like bath water, and you stand under it to wash. So, essentially, a shower is like a bath, but standing up and no tub. Just a drain in the floor so nothing floods.”
“You stand as you wash?”
“Yep. And it’s just a sprinkle. Well, a little more than a sprinkle. Think soaking rain, not torrential downpour.”
He stood and considered the other end of the room. The lounge disappeared, relocating at the end of the bed. The rugs that had been under it vanished completely, leaving a large section of the room barren. In their place, a small hole appeared in the floor, and the wall above the hole sprouted a protrusion of stone.
