Faster, Zia!
The large granite patio that led down to the elaborate gardens was just ahead, but so too was the manor. The back of the home overlooked the sunken, walled area where she typically spent her days — casting a shadow that she could feel clinging to her long after she returned home in the evening.
Zia rounded a bend in the narrow path. The trees thinned out the closer she got to the manor grounds. No matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes on the steps leading to the patio, she couldn’t quite stop herself from stealing quick, furtive glances at the home.
Who knew if Mr. Bounds was even inside? He could have been away at some fancy resort, or gone for the weekend to San Francisco. She could imagine him at a sophisticated bar in the city, one with low lighting and shiny, dark wood accents, just as she could picture him at an opera, a black tie party—
Zia banished the train of thought. She did not have time for her usual daydreams about her terrifying, elusive boss. If she didn’t hustle her ass, she wouldn’t evenhavea boss anymore.
Huffing, a stitch in her side, Zia broke through the last of the trees and onto the patio. Rectangular, with rounded corners and a balustrade on one side, it connected the gardens to the lush landscaping that filled the immediate area around the manor. On the opposite side from the home, a brick staircase led to her destination.
Turning her back on the manor was always an exercise in will. Something fundamental in her — perhaps the small, nascent part of her brain that remained stubbornlyanimal —recognized the threat which dwelled in that home. It didn’t matter that she was never on the premises when that threat could emerge. Sheknewhe was in there.
Or at least, her imagination did.
That was the trouble with developing a rich fantasy about the life of her mysterious employer: at a certain point, she couldn’t be sure what was entirely made up and what was real instinct.
At leastthistime she had a basis for her acute awareness of her boss. Seeing as she was only twenty-ish minutes away from breaking theonerule that governed the entirety of the Empire Estate, she thought her paranoia was justified.
The paranoia, sure,she thought, bracing a hand against her aching side,but not the goosebumps, or the way you always look at the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
She made a disgruntled face. This was not the time to dive back into the psychological reasons for her obsession with a vampire she’d never even properlyseen.
Desperate to get out of the manor’s shadow and away from its watchful windows, Zia beat a hasty path down the staircase. It was split in two, with a fountain built into the top so that water could cascade down the center in a serene waterfall and pool in the large koi pond at its base. Normally, she took a second to admire the water, but seeing as she was taking the steps two at a time, she didn’t risk it.
Hitting the brick path at the bottom with an ankle-rattling jolt, she threw herself to the right. Verdant hedges lined the rectangular garden, which was itself broken up into a series of smaller areas. To the right, the stonewalled rose garden and its nearly two hundred year old green house. In the middle, the koi pond and mediterranean garden. To the left, an elaborate gazebo nearly swallowed by climbing jasmine and lush wisteria, where Zia normally ate lunch.
The entrance to the rose garden was marked by a bronze plaque set into the mortar of the low stone wall that bordered it. In shiny copperplate letters, it read:The Rose Garden est. 1812 - Officially recognized Protectorate Heritage Site & Registered with The Rose Society 1953
Two quick steps down landed her on the neatly swept gravel path that bisected the garden. On either side, two huge flower beds bursting with rose bushes stood. Each bush had its own tiny plaque, stating the name, the origin of the variety, and the date it was planted. This late in the season, only a few of her beloved roses still bloomed. Their colors were bright splashes against dark green leaves.
Zia hustled down the path, her flats crunching in the gravel, to make her way toward the far end of the garden. That was where she had planted her newest residents only a handful of weeks prior.
Pulling her old ring of keys out of her pocket, she came to a halt in front of the greenhouse at the end of the path. It was as ancient as the garden was. Rectangular, with a peaked roof and old, oxidized copper joints between thick glass panels, it had been nearly overgrown with creeping vines when she first took her post.
It was still old, but now it was also well-loved. Her key slid into the oiled lock easily, and the door swung open with only the faintest groan. Inside, the air was warm and wet and thick with the scent of greenery.
Through the thick, bubbled glass roof, she saw the sky begin to darken.
Zia shoved her keys back into her pocket and lunged for her workbench.
Snatching her low-heat thermal sealer, she threw caution to the wind and thrust it into her front pocket. Hopefully it wouldn’t accidentally turn on and burn a hole through her thigh.
There was no time for a second trip. She wasn’t even sure she’d have time to lock the door on her way out. Frantic now, she swept her arm across one of the shelves attached to the bench. Thick sheets of plastic fell onto the grimy brick floor, but most of them made it into her arms.
She was out of the greenhouse in a flash.
Throw the sheets on, seal them up, run like there’s a vampire on your heels.She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat.Gods, I am not cut out for rule-breaking.
Her hands shook as she threw the first sheet over the barely established rose bush, then dropped to her knees to use the heat gun to seal the edges around the thick stem.Maybe he’s not here,she thought again, scrambling to move on to the next one. Rich soil smeared her hands and legs, but she didn’t notice.Maybe he’s away, and they won’t close the gates tonight because…because maybe they’re waiting for him to come home?
Six more rose bushes stretched ahead of her. The light had begun to fade in earnest, making the LED display on the heat gun glow with a sickly green light.
Maybe no one will notice even if heishome. Maybe he likes to sleep in a little, like I do. Why would he get up right away on a— a Friday, anyway?
Zia sank her teeth into her lower lip. Her hands were getting cold, her cheeks beginning to chap under the onslaught of the increasingly icy wind. Her long, thick curls got in her face as she moved from bush to bush.
Four more. All she had to do was four more, and then she could escape.
