"I have arranged for the two of you to take a tour of the Crimson Orchards," he says smoothly. "They are deeper inside my realm, which extends for many miles. You’ll tour the orchards and vineyards and have a cheese and wine tasting with my most trusted sommelier. You can even take your cat with you if you wish."
I glance down at Mr. Mittens, who’s moved from the window over to the fireplace. He’s stretched out long in front of the fire like a satisfied noodle.
"No," I say, smiling. "I think Mr. Mittens will be happier here. He seems to like the Crimson Spires."
"Very well." Lucian inclines his head. Then, with old-fashioned charm, he adds, "Please come with me. Your carriage awaits, ladies."
He turns to Hanna.
"And please be assured, I am working on a way to return you to the Human Realm. I’m afraid that returning from the Shadow Realm back to the Human world is considerably more complicated than getting from the Human world into the Shadow Realm in the first place."
Hanna frowns.
"I'm not sure what I'm going to tell my job. I'm supposed to work today."
"You can tell them your friend had an emergency," I offer, trying to sound optimistic.
"I guess I'll have to," Hanna sighs. "It's actually true, if you count getting dragged out of reality as we know it as an emergency."
"I certainly do," I say, rising from my seat.
Hanna rises too.
"Well, let’s go then," she says. “If we can’t get home, I can think of worse ways to spend the day than going on an orchard tour.”
“Okay.” I take one last look at the cozy breakfast nook, at the fire, at the cat, at the sunlight gilding everything like a dream I don’t want to wake from.
Then Hanna and I step into Lucian’s shadow, and follow him for what I hope will be a relaxing day.
46
Jules
Hanna and I follow Lucian down the hallway, our footsteps muffled by thick carpets that look like they were woven out of velvet and shadow. The Vampire Don moves like he always does—silent, controlled, and elegant.
He moves like a predator who knows he’s at the top of the food chain and doesn’t need to hurry. The thought pops into my head and I have to agree with it.
I’m still not used to how huge he is. Not just tall—big. Broad shoulders under the dark suit…long legs eating up the distance with every step. And yet he doesn’t stomp or swagger like some big men. He glides.
We step into the private elevator, the doors whispering shut behind us. The air inside smells faintly of polished wood and something spicy—cinnamon? clove? It’s good, whatever it is.
As we descend, Hanna leans in close to me and whispers,
“This whole place is amazing. I swear to God, if I wake up and this turns out to be some kind of fever dream, I’m going to be so mad.”
I snort under my breath.
“If this is a fever dream, my brain has an extremely specific aesthetic. Besides, I think I would have woken up by now.”
The elevator opens into the grand entryway, where black marble columns rise up like tree trunks in a haunted forest. The front doors stand ahead of us, tall enough to swallow a person whole. When Lucian motions, the two guards push them open and outside air rushes in—cool and crisp with a faint scent of damp earth and fallen leaves.
It smells like Autumn. I know, because I haven’t always lived in Florida, where we don’t get Autumn. We get “still summer,” and then “slightly less summer,” and then “Christmas decorations in eighty degrees.” Which sucks—I hate a hot Christmas.
But I remember the scent of Fall from my childhood, when I lived with my parents in Virginia. I remember the faint scent of burning leaves and the crisp feeling in the air and that’s what it feels like now.
Also, the reddish-gold sunlight makes everything look like an eternal October afternoon. There’s the faintest chill in the air, but it’s refreshing—not too cold. And the sunshine is bright, but not blinding. The light has a soft, coppery quality I love—so different from the relentless, muggy sunshine of Florida.
I look back at the building towering behind us. The Crimson Spires don’t look quite as foreboding in daylight.
