Page 4 of Bitter Heat
“I expect so,” Janus equivocated, subconsciously mimicking the man’s mountain phrasing. “Is it the same with the water?” Janus asked. “Limited amounts or times for use? Any need for special heating when it comes to a bath or shower?”
“No, we’ve got plenty of running water from the creeks that feed the lake, and the newest tanks to warm it, too. Our guests never have to worry about bathing.” Zeke sounded proud of that. “How about I put together some nice warm tea and cake to break your traveling fast? The weather is cool enough to warrant hot tea, don’t you agree? Or do you prefer it cold?”
The breeze up from the lake coming through the window held a nice chill that felt good after the dusty, hot travel, but it could indicate a cold night ahead. “Hot,” Janus said, nodding at the man. “Hot tea would be perfect.”
“Yes, I agree.” He winked. “Until it gets around midsummer, and then it’s got to be cool tea.”
Janus tilted his head and queried, “I understand the true heat of summer isn’t for another month or so?”
“Indeed. If we get much heat at all.” The man motioned toward the hills behind the lake. “The mountains protect us a might, and we’ve been known to wear light sweaters even into the thick of the summer season. It’s hotter down in the city, I hear—no place for the air to escape. Not enough trees to help it breathe. Trees are wolf-god’s lungs, you see. And through them, he exhales life into all of us.”
Such statements were to be expected in these parts. The mountain people were different from city folk. They held old-fashioned beliefs that even the Holy Church of Wolf hadn’t been able to stamp out—ideas about the inherent magic of the earth, trees, sun, sky, and water. They believed that each natural element lived in essential harmony with wolf-god’s children. The mountain folk scorned science as much as the conservative beliefs of the old Church. They had their own ways of being, living, healing, and birthing. These were beliefs Janus wanted to learn more about, if only so he could help the mountain people embrace the scientific discoveries of modern health care.
“Now, unless you have questions, I’ll leave you to settle in. There’ll be tea ready for you in a jiffy. Just pop down. And dinner tonight will be pot pies at six, which isn’t long from now. The sun’s almost gone, isn’t it? Anyway, I expect we’ll have more to plan as far as a meal routine goes, especially once you’re deeper into your work with Dr. Crescent. But for now, you should settle in and relax.”
“I will. Thank you.”
It didn’t take long to unpack his things. He hadn’t brought much. Janus chuckled under his breath remembering his personal beta servant, Wallace, begging him to please take another bag. “Surely, you’ll need your tuxedo, Mr. Heelies? And a good hunting jacket?”
He’d told him that he didn’t imagine he’d require a tuxedo ever again with his new station in life. Nor would he be hunting much more than squirrel out this way, but even a more organized hunt for deer or wild turkeys wouldn’t be formal. No, in the mountains, they’d be more likely to wear threadbare dungarees and shirts that had long seen better days. Not that he’d been able to bring himself to actually buy dungarees despite knowing the mountains would undoubtedly ruin his current wardrobe in no time flat.
Poor Wallace had looked near tears about Janus’s refusal to take the clothing, but Janus hadn’t given in, not even for the sweet old man. Wallace had been hired by his cousin Ray to handle him during his last round of illness, and the beta servant was an old-fashioned sort of man.
Janus sighed, remembering the circumstances that had led to Wallace joining his household in the city. Upon realizing he was incredibly sick yet again, Janus had been tempted to request respite back at Xan’s house under Caleb’s care once more. He loved Caleb’s way with him, the sound of his voice reading a book to keep his mind off the illness, and his long, pale fingers combing through his hair with a cool, soothing touch. But that would have been unkind to everyone—not to mention dangerous to Caleb’s children. Luckily, Ray had seen that selfish idea put to rest when he’d hired Wallace.
And Wallace had been a good servant and a kind man, reading aloud to Janus when he’d been at his most restless, and helping him in the most intimate of ways. They’d grown quite close. It’d been hard to leave him behind, but Janus wouldn’t indulge in extravagances he couldn’t afford on his own. And servants were a definite extravagance.
He hung his suits and other clothes up in the closet, dusting them off, and seeing them almost as much to rights as Wallace would have done. Then he laid out his shaving supplies and toothbrush in the attached bathroom. He checked, and yes, hot water was at the ready in the old-fashioned, deep tub—no shower, apparently. That was fine. He’d have to fold himself in some contortions to fit in the small bathtub, but he’d keep clean. The towels were a bit worn, but not entirely threadbare. They’d do, along with the soft blankets on the bed that had seen better days…or years. This was reality as it fit his current and future income, and he found it didn’t trouble him nearly as much as he’d thought it would.
Coming out of the bathroom after putting all his things away, he found a tray with tea and cake on the writing desk near the window. He sat down to enjoy it and write in his journal as he admired the view. After recording his thoughts, he attempted a drawing of the lake and other doodles until nearly six, long after the tea went cold.
Smelling food downstairs, he left his room and started down the hallway, noting the closed doors on the opposite side of the hall, two rooms empty of boarders for the moment, and a third that might be Zeke’s son’s room. On Janus’s side of the hall, there were also three doors. The one immediately next to him was also shut off, but the one right at the top of the stairs stood nearly two-thirds open. Janus heard a movement from within and wondered if that was, perhaps, Zeke’s room. He stepped up to the threshold to ask if dinner was ready downstairs.
But it wasn’t Zeke’s room.
Inside was a space of stark simplicity—white sheets over a serviceable bed, a rocking chair similar to the one on the back porch, a table with a lamp, and a slim chest of drawers. There were two used candles by the bedside on a small nightstand, and one new one ready for use in a holder.
There was also a birdcage. An ornate, gilded birdcage that looked to be worth more than the value of the entire contents of the room.
At the open window, perched on the wide windowsill, a man sat basking in the final rays of the dying sunlight. His white, long-sleeved shirt was open halfway down, billowing in the air currents, and his dark pants were tailored to fit his slim, well-formed legs. His long, wavy, dark-brown hair was loose, as it had been when Janus caught a glimpse of him on the porch, and it, too, moved in the breeze from the open window.
Thiswas the omega he’d scented. Janus took a deep breath, catching the berries and musk again.
The omega cooed inaudibly to the small, brilliant blue and green bird that sat in his open palm. The round O of his pale lips the only indication of noise at all, that and the cock of the bird’s head as it listened intently.
His lean muscles were visible in the sunset glow through the pale white shirt, strong lines that were stark but not bulky, and as he lifted the bird higher, the odd shape of his chest—a bit concave if Janus’s eyes didn’t deceive—was revealed.
The man went very still. The room seemed to hold its breath, and Janus did too until the man slowly, very slowly turned his head to meet Janus’s gaze. A jolt went through Janus, and he sucked in a sharp breath. The man’s eyes were the color of tinted, backlit, amber-colored pharmacy glass and full of wary hostility. The moment caught and hung. Janus blinked and opened his mouth, but no words came out. Likewise, the man said nothing, only sitting motionless on the sill with the bird now trotting about on his palm and lifting its bright wings as though to take flight.
“Hello,” Janus finally managed, his throat strangely dry. “Pardon me. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Nothing.
“I was looking for Zeke.”
Nothing again.
Janus forced a smile, trying for a hint of his old, charming, arrogant self. Surely the asshole was still in there somewhere. “I’m Janus. I’ll be boarding here. You must be…” Here he floundered realizing that Zeke hadn’t told him his son’s name.
