All she saw was white light, and even though she was pretty sure they’d come with her, she had to consciously check to assure herself that her eyeballs were where they ought to be.
She blinked hard to clear her vision. Real sensation, not just the impression of having been put through a potato ricer, returned to her limbs as she swung her gaze around. Cool air kissed her clammy skin. The ringing bell and rumble of a streetcar were somehow uncanny, like musical notes from another world.
They appeared to be standing in the center of a walled courtyard. Elegant wrought iron light fixtures cast a golden glow over manicured hedges and towering columns of floweringjasmine. It was dark in San Francisco, which was a jarring change from the warm morning light they’d left in Tennessee.
An oddly familiar burbling fountain stood proudly before her, the center of a brick circle. Lights danced alongside a shimmering reflection in the dark water. The gatekeeper stood by the fountain, his left arm lifted to check his watch like everything was normal and he hadn’t just torn apart the fabric of space. For him it was, but the lack of ceremony was jarring.
It took her dazed mind a moment to place the lines, shapes, and muted colors that danced across the water’s surface. The dark face of the cathedral, recognizable even at night, stretched across the ripples in a broken streak. A jolt of surprise ran through her at the sight.
A warm hand cupped the back of her neck. Silas loomed over her, demon eyes glowing with sinister light, and rumbled, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”I think.“Where are we? I thought we were going to your cabin, not across the street from the cathedral.”
“This is my house. I don’t have a lab in the cabin.”
“Yourhouse?What…” Petra turned on her heel, searching for a house. What she found was not that.
“It’s a little gaudy,” the gatekeeper quipped.
Silas glared. “Why are you still here?”
Gaudy wasn’t the word she’d use, necessarily, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fitting. The building that towered over her in all its three story, neoclassical glory was not a home. It was apalace.One she’d seen hundreds, if not thousands of times and admired wistfully in those rare moments when she didn’t feel like she was running for her life.
“You own theFlood mansion?”
Silas shrugged. “It’s a good location.”
A garbled noise escaped her throat. It was all she could manage, since words were beyond her. A faint, nearly non-existent memory from months ago of Robert mentioning that the mansion across the street from the cathedral had been sold echoed in her mind. She recalled feeling a silly pang of disappointment at the news.
As if I could’ve ever afforded a place like that,she’d thought.Not in this lifetime, and definitely not on a High Priestess’s salary.
She’d never stepped foot in the sprawling courtyard, let alone been inside, but she didn’t need to. A glance was enough to determine that it was one of the most beautiful properties in the entire city.
When he saidit’s a good location,he had to mean the fact that it was directly across the street from the entrance to the cathedral. Which meant that he’d probably bought the mansion — the famous, outrageously expensive, historical, two-city-block-spanning home built by a silver baron before the near destruction of San Francisco in 1906 — sometimebeforethey met.
When she whirled around again, she took the time to really look at the courtyard and beyond the tall fence. Sure enough, there it was: the cathedral and, more importantly, the clear path she walked every day as she went about her work.
“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Silas gave her an odd look. “Of course I have.”
Pressing a hand to the small of her back, he steered her back around and began to march her toward the front door. She let him lead her, too dazed to do much else, and only shook her head when he called over his shoulder, “Get out of here, witch. And if you tell anyone where we live, I’ll kill you and everyone you’ve ever loved.”
“You can try,” the gatekeeper replied, as unruffled as ever. “Enjoy the holiday, Shade.” A moment later, magic singed downher spine. A soundless explosion blew her hair around her shoulders and then the air cleared.
“Who was that?” she asked, trying to keep up with Silas’s long strides.
He grunted. “A client who pays me extremely well to not ask any questions.”
“So you don’t know his name, but you trusted him enough to get us here?”
Silas shrugged. “He’d be dead without me, so I figured we’d probably be fine.”
Petra shook her head. It took a lot of restraint to stop herself from asking more questions. His history with the gatekeeper wasn’t important, and she knew that if she kept pushing, he’d only give her answers that spawned more questions.
Even with Silas hustling her along, it felt like it took ages to cross the expansive courtyard. When they reached the stone steps of the ornate entrance, a familiar hum of power sizzled over her skin. Silas’s wards, once foreign and uncomfortable when they clung to her skin, now felt as comforting as his touch.
She knew for certain that she was safe within the bounds of Silas’s magic, just as she knew that he’d never let anything happen to her when he held her in his arms.
