And you didn't have to worry about ghosts in this plantation house.
The room they moved me into was on the other side of the house from the first one. It had a view of the back gardens. No balcony. There was a balcony right beside my room, centrally located outside the house, but it was off the living room. It wasn't your average second-floor perch either. That balcony had Greek columns soaring up two floors to support the roof and enough space for two sitting areas and an outdoor kitchen.
As I said, this wasn't a mere house but a palace. We're talking stone construction, a grand staircase between wings, enormous windows, tall ceilings, and a fucking fountain in the center of the back garden, near the gazebo. I could hardly believe we were still in the city.
The furnishings were an eclectic mix, obviously gathered over many centuries and scattered throughout the place without care for keeping those centuries segregated. I hate to admit it, but I loved it. I loved seeing the mix of time periods that created its own style. I even felt a kinship with the house. All those years jumbled together inside it. Hard to keep them straight. Why even try? There was beauty in the carefree nature of it all.
The kitchen was a chef's dream but with one of those antique stoves that people pay thousands for new versions of. This was an original that had been altered over the years. I was shocked to see electric and induction burners instead of gas.
“Why not gas?” I waved at the stove.
“We don't want flammable materials running through the house,” Lex said.
“Bad idea.” Cyrus shook his head.
Instead of grunting, Jake went to the fridge, grabbed a can of Coke, and offered it to me. I saw this as an improvement and decided to reward him.
“Thanks.” I popped the can and swigged. Yes, my thanks was the reward. “Damn, I needed that. What did you dose me with?”
“Chloroform mixed with a little magic.” Lex shrugged. “Had to make sure it worked on you.”
“Unbelievable.” I went to the butler's pantry—a massive thing full of dry goods set in orderly rows—and searched the shelves.
They had a lot of junk food, which I approved of now that I didn't have to worry about my weight. But they also had the staples. It was enough for me to conclude that they could cook. At least one of them could. I grabbed a bag of Nutter Butters—the wafer kind (my opinion of them improved when I saw that)—and opened it as I left the pantry. Since all three hounds were huddled in the doorway watching me, I had to shove them aside to get out.
They didn't seem to mind.
I took my soda and cookies outside to the back porch and stared at the gardens that seemed to go on forever in all directions. The hounds came up on either side of me. Tucking the open bag under an arm, I broke off a piece of wafer cookie and went down the steps to wander through the garden. My prison guards came with me, but they stayed behind me, letting me lead the way. I crunched on my snack and inspected the flowerbeds. Palace of Versailles, it was not, but I liked it. And no, I've never been to Versailles, but I've seen pictures. This was not a palace garden. It was an explosion of nature barely contained.
Several heights of plants crowded flowerbeds defined by low walls. Those walls were necessary. Without them, the plants would have taken over. As it was, only the beds ran wild. The rest of the garden was neat as a pin, with slate walkways leading to sitting areas like the gazebo and the bench under the magnolia tree where I sat down.
I pulled up the hem of my skirt, stuck my Coke between my knees, and began eating in earnest. The men joined me,looking at each other before taking up posts on either side and before me.
“Move!” I motioned at Jake, who had stood in front of me. “I'm trying to enjoy the garden.”
He growled but shifted to the side.
“Do you like it?” Lex asked and sat down next to me.
“It's very nice.”
“Very nice!” Cyrus huffed. “It took years to establish.”
“It's very nice,” I repeated in a duh tone. “I like it. I like my garden better.”
“You don't have as much of a garden.”
“No, but it's full to overflowing. I love that. I love feeling as if I'm in a jungle. This is spaced out. That's nice too, but I like my place better.”
“You are not keeping that house,” Jake growled.
“I change my mind. I like you better as a grunter. Go back to being Geralt.”
Cyrus chuckled.
“This is your home now,” Jake went on, shocking his packmates. He came to stand in front of me. “You don't need that house.”
“Oh, yes, I do. Where else will I go when I get mad at you?”
