Maybe the museum has his history, and I’ll finally understand both what he wants with me, and his relationship to Donatello.
Donatello presses his lips together, looking ahead. “No, we should. Of course we should.”
Suspicious. Very suspicious. Donatello is definitely hiding something. He knows more than he lets in, and I can’t help but fear what I’m going to find in this museum thirteen. At the same time, I can’t bring myself to completely distrust Donatello. No matter how much Apollo would like that, I can’t help buthope.
I’m such a fool.
Donatello guides me down a corridor, walls devoid of decoration, a single door at the very end of it. The door is of thick wood, all medieval style, and I hesitate when Donatello closes his fingers around the knob.
“Is this it?” I ask, arching an eyebrow, doing my best to sound confident.
He, of course, sees right through me. “It is. Ready?”
I part my lips to say something, I don’t know what, but Donatello doesn’t wait. He captures my hand in his and cracks open the door, tugging me inside before I can help it. Before I’m ready. The door closes with finality behind us, and I take in the immense room, drenched in semi-darkness and silence.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter how long I waited. I would never be ready for this.
“Mm,” I hum. “Are we in the right place?”
“We are.”
“Definitely?”
“Definitely.”
I blink. Even in the semi-darkness, my powers let me see easily. They allow me to distinguish the glass displays and arrangements, but the first thing my gaze falls on is a wooden cross. Not a proper cross, in its usual T-shape, but an X-cross. My eyes narrow, then realization hits. Air chokes in my throat. My cheeks burn.
No. It can’t be.
“Is this what I think it is?” I whisper, my gaze darting from side to side, studying the displays. Whips and shackles and masks. Racks upon racks of costumes on a far side. A huge, round bed.
“If you’re thinking a sex dungeon,” Donatello replies, and though his voice is perfectly empty, I now see his lips are trembling because he’s holding back a smile, “then you’re right.”
This has to be a joke. “Museum thirteen is a sex dungeon?”
Donatello starts walking and I can’t help but following his wide back. We pass bookshelves filled with items, most of them I don’t recognize. I can’t believe Giulia sent me to a sex dungeon. And she made it look like it was something so serious! I honestly thought the place might have some clues about Kayn and Donatello. And it gets crazier. Why in the world does she even have one of these?
“It’s technically a museum,” he says, guiding me down a corridor of dildos. Yes. A corridor with shelves upon shelves of dildos. “Giulia has trouble staying in the present, so she uses these museums she created to organize her thoughts. To ground herself.”
The dildos give way to a collection of vibrators, the ones that are not necessarily dildos. A couple of steps later, we find flashlights and ring vibrators. Everything starts simple, from rough materials, then grows into what we see today — soft silicon and bright pinks and purples. Giulia must be collecting these for years.
“So, it’s only a museum?” I ask, wondering if this stuff is used. It doesn’t smell like used. The room has a perfect absence of any smell. I wonder if there’s a spell to keep things clean forever. That would be handy.
Donatello cocks his head to the side, glancing at me. “I wouldn’t guarantee she doesn’t use some of these things.” And we take another turn, entering a sort of small, circle room. The little light that comes from the museum spills into this den, where it hits the mirrored walls and multiplies. I whirl around myself.
Every wall in this room is made of mirrors. Even the ceiling, even the floor. At least there are no dildos here. I wouldn’t be able to talk some truth out of Donatello with hundreds of dildos staring at me.
Lifting my eyes, I find his, studying me with that soft gaze. My fingers itch to race through his blond hair, but I hold back. One thing at a time, and the truth has to be my priority.
“You wanted to talk,” he starts, keeping himself a foot away. Giving me space. Respecting me.
Deep breath, Cassandra. You’re the one in control here. “Yeah. This whole thing with Kayn. Why does he want me?”
Donatello tilts his lips. “I don’t know. He never shared that. I’m merely an underling, and he only tells me what he wants me to do. Never the reason.” He raises a finger. “But it’s clear he wants access to the Cursed Realm. What for, I don’t know.”
I don’t feel the truth, but rather there’s an absence of lies. Whenever someone lies to me, I feel this tingle, this sensation deep in my stomach. It’s just something I’ve always had. And I can’t feel it when Donatello says these things.
“Okay. And you don’t agree with him?”