Page 14 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

T he room was small and dank. The curtains and shutters were closed, and I made them my first chore. I opened them wide to let a breeze in to get the stuffiness out of the air. After having been cold for so long, the room felt stifling.

I barely glanced at Vardor; he would have killed those two men at Piccadilly, and I didn't think he would have cared. My fear of him grew with every passing moment. Besides being deranged, he was also brutal and dangerous. I would need all my wits about me if I wanted to escape him. For the time, a plan on how escaped me, but I was sure an opportunity would arise. It had to. Staying with him was simply… unacceptable.

I watched him brutally and efficiently kill six men. Six men who, by all appearances, had stood on the wrong side of the law for a long time. They must have known how to survive and fight. Vardor hadn't even breathed hard. He had not a scratch on him. Neither did he have a scratch from where I had been scratching him. For a moment, just a moment, I considered the truthfulness of his insane statement that he was a god. It fit. It did. But didn't considering the possibility make me as irrational as him?

How did he know about the ring, though? Or my handkerchief?

Lucky guess, I decided after a moment of contemplation. He obviously had taken the mummy and the jewelry out of the sarcophagus, and the ring was made in the same style; it even had hieroglyphs etched into it. Yes, but he wouldn't have seen those , my mind argued. Lucky guess , I shut the voice down, not ready to consider the alternative of him not being crazy.

Unless we ran into an army, I decided, I wouldn't dare challenge him in public. There was no telling what he was capable of. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was to be responsible for other people's deaths.

I chewed my lower lip between my teeth, unsure of what to do, and nervously eyed the bed. He wasn't going to expect me to sleep with him in it, would he? Cold sweat broke out all over my body. Thanks to Abbie, I had somewhat of an idea of what awaited me on my wedding night, but doing that... that intimate act with another person besides Thomas was unthinkable.

You better prepare yourself , the voice inside my head warned, this might happen whether you want to or not .

Want to? I screamed back. There is no want to in this.

Something in between my legs objected to that statement, and heat spread over my cheeks in embarrassment.

A knock on the door interrupted my inner turmoil. Two serving maids entered with two trays laden with steaming food. They threw blushing glances at Vardor, who had taken the hood off his face. Of course he would catch their eyes. Most women found men like him attractive. They didn't see how dangerous they were. Loud noises followed, and three burly men entered carrying a large tin tub, which they placed in front of the fireplace. More servants followed, carrying buckets of water. How much was Vardor paying them?

In no time, the tub was filled with steaming water. Towels were placed by the bed, and a brand-new piece of soap was laid on a small table.

"I'm not going to bathe with you in here," I stated, crossing my arms over my chest to emphasize my words, but deep down I was shaking with fear. There would be nothing I could do to stop him if he forced me.

"Eat," he pointed at the table with all the food. "I will go procure some clothing for us while you bathe," he raised a finger, "don't even think about running away or calling for help. I will find you no matter where you go, and whoever is with you will pay the price."

I shook my head. A different tremble moved through me: excitement. The man might be just deranged enough to believe that. I didn't doubt that he could take down several men, armed or not, but there was no way he could track me down.

"Roweena," he moved threateningly toward me, "I will find you. Don't doubt that for a second."

A shudder moved down my spine, and the spark of hope that had ignited in my belly extinguished. I didn't believe he was a god. I didn't, but...

"I will always find you," he held up my discarded handkerchief. "Your scent will lead me straight to you, just like it did before."

Was he insinuating that he had not randomly picked me out of the church but instead had been following me? I trembled harder. I didn't believe him. I really didn't. But... I stared at him, and his eyes glowered in warning.

Defeat moved through me. In all honesty, I didn't care what he might do to my father if I ran to him for help, just like my father wouldn't have cared had I told him about Thomas' plans. But I cared about the other people in our house, contrary to Vardor, who would kill indiscriminately.

Thomas had guards. Plenty of them. Could I put him—them—in danger? I mulled that over and didn't like myself when the answer was a maybe, not a no. As much as I tried to tell myself that Thomas wouldn't have followed through with his plan, deep down, I always feared that I was wrong. Thus my contingency plan with Abbie. But I didn't wish Thomas harm or death. So… no. Going to Abbie was out of the question as well. I would never put her in danger. But without her, I didn't have a penny to my name.

I was truly trapped. With a crazy man. St. George's Fields suddenly didn't sound that bad anymore. Oh, who was I kidding? St. George's Fields would have been a hundred times worse.

"I won't try to run," I whispered.

"Good, let's eat."

We sat down by the table. The delicious smell of stew made me realize how famished I was. Yesterday, I should have feasted on salmon in butter sauce and roasted venison with baked vegetables and herbed potatoes, followed by ratafia biscuits and wedding cake. I’d skipped breakfast in anticipation of the feast following the wedding, which meant I hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. As unappetizing as the unidentifiable pieces of meat and vegetables swimming in a thick sauce were, they tasted heavenly. I broke off a piece of nearly black bread filled with kernels and corns and promptly bit into one, nearly breaking a tooth.

"What is this?" Vardor complained, picking through the brown mush with his spoon.

"Stew," I said, scalding the top of my mouth on the hot food.

His lips curled in distaste, "This is inedible! Proprietor!" he yelled the last word so loud, it made my ears ring.

"I didn't think as a god you would need to eat," I couldn't stop myself from saying, biting my tongue as soon as the words were out. I shouldn't antagonize him.

His black eyes turned to me. "I don't. But I haven't had anything between my teeth in over ten thousand years. I want to taste fruit, meat. Proprietor!" he yelled again, loud enough that I was sure his voice would carry all the way down the stairs.

He said he hadn't eaten in ten thousand years. Did he have any idea how ludicrous he sounded? I did have to give him credit for playing his role, but still, how stupid did he think I was?

The door opened, and a timid-looking maid with honey-blond hair entered. "Sir?"

I jumped out of my chair as he threw the dish of stew at her, just missing her head. It flew out into the hall, spilling over-cooked meat and potatoes against the wall.

"This is inedible. Tell your master to bring us decent food or return my gold."

The maid shook from head to toe. "Yes, sir." She mumbled, rushing back and forgetting to close the door behind her.

"You might as well take your bath now. I'll go find us some clothes. Hopefully, by the time I'm back, they will have cooked up some decent food for us." He paused by the open door and turned, "Remember, I will find you, and whoever you're with will pay dearly."

I shuddered, holding on for dear life to the chair I had jumped out of. "I'll be here," I promised.

His eyes bored into mine. He didn't say another word, but the warning was unmistakable. Then he left, closing the door.

I sank into the chair. My elbows on the table shook as I leaned my face into my hands and broke out into noisy sobs. What was I supposed to do?

Loud voices from below that I couldn't understand rose up through the wooden floor. Vardor's voice was unmistakable, and I was sure he was yelling at the proprietor. The urge to leave, to run and hide or call for the Watch hit me like a tidal wave. Before I knew what I was doing, I was by the door, holding the knob between my shaking fingers. Run, Ro, run , every part of me urged me on. But I stood frozen. What if ?

What if he did find me? I had seen him fight. Only an army could hold him back. It doesn't matter , the rational part of my brain advised. Thomas and my father will have already filed reports with the Watch. Given the earlier scene at the church, the men looking for me would no doubt be equipped with firearms. My father would make sure of it. Even if he had to buy the weapons himself. For now, I was still his prized possession.

No matter how strong Vardor might be, he wouldn't be able to hold out against a hail of bullets.

Fortified with those encouraging thoughts, I ripped the door open. At first, I tiptoed forward. The voices had stopped. The loud banging of a door made my heart skip a beat, but I was sure Vardor slammed it. There was no holding me back after that. I pulled up my skirts and ran down the stairs, past a maid on her way up with a tray of lighter-looking bread, cuts of meat, and cheese. My stomach grumbled at the sight, but the urge to run was greater. I rushed by her and a startled-looking proprietor. I grabbed the door to the outside and swung it open. The sounds of an awakening city greeted me, horses whinnied, people argued and laughed. A pig rushed by, as well as a loud rooster chasing a hen. All that I only registered on the periphery, though. My mind was filled with one word: Free!

I stepped out onto the cobblestoned street, not stopping. My feet were still running, but on air, not rocks, as strong hands suddenly grabbed me by the waist and propelled me off the ground.

"No!" I screeched.

"Hush, or I will have to kill anybody who hears you," his deep voice threatened.

Tears flooded my sight. So close. I had been so close. He carried me back inside. The proprietor stood gaping at us. Vardor ignored him, and since I didn't dare make a sound, the old man retreated back into the dining area where the Watchmen still sat. One looked up at us, then elbowed the other and said something I couldn't hear. The other laughed when he turned and saw Vardor carrying me up. Nothing to see. Just your daily spousal abuse , I thought bitterly.

"Well, that looks better than the slop they brought up before," Vardor said, kicking the door shut behind us when his eyes fell on the tray the maid had brought up.

"Do you want to eat or bathe?" he asked me as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just plucked me up while I was trying to run from him.

My appetite was gone. My throat was so choked shut I doubted I would be able to swallow anything.

"Bathe," I said.

He motioned toward the tub.

I stared at him.

"I'm not leaving you again," he announced. But he did turn his back to me.

My clothes were still damp, and with the window open, the room's stuffiness had dispersed, leaving a chill in the air that reminded me of how cold I still was. The water in the tub wasn't steaming anymore, but my hand dipped into it told me that it was just right and would be heavenly.

I stared at Vardor's back. His hands moved from the table to his mouth. He was fully engrossed in the cheese and meat. I had never undressed in front of a man before, not even one with his back turned to me. Torn between the desire to dive into the warm water and get rid of the chill in my bones and fear of the man sitting only a few feet from me, I stared from one to the other.

My fingers shook as I reached behind me. The pearl buttons were tiny, and I wasn't able to get a grip on any of them. They slipped between my fingers, and a frustrated sob escaped me.

"What's wrong?" Vardor turned.

"I can't... I can't unbutton this dress," I managed as more tears spilled out of me.

He rose, and rose, and rose from the chair. This man was massive. Instinctively, I took a step back as he moved forward until he towered over me. Large, callused hands grabbed my shoulders and gently turned me around.

"What in the name of the plagues is this?" he cursed as he pulled on one of the buttons.

The sound of ripping material was loud, followed by a cacophony of clink, clink, clinks as my pearl buttons flew all over the wooden floor.

"There." He muttered.

Over my shoulder, my gaze followed him back to the table, where he pulled the chair around so his back was once again to me. Good grief, he had just torn my dress to shreds.