Are there fish in here? Anacondas??
Nessie, is that you?!
Jesus fuck, get me outta here.
I make it to the other side, crawling out like the damn swamp thing and immediately returning to my default of weaving through bushes and trees, mainly to ensure I don’t leave a trail of dribbling water and muddy shoe prints. I’m relieved that there’s no one over here, but that doesn’t mean I have the slightest clue where I’m going.
I’m just hoping the aviary connects to somewhere else; either to the rest of the mansion, or to the outside. Keeping my steps as light as possible, I enter the creepy, far darker side of the conservatory. It’s as beautiful as it is weird. The only lights are from the overhead skylights and the occasional lamppost. Just as many trees and vine-covered stone walls as the rest of the mansion, though in here, there’s also an inordinate amount of brass decor. Birdcages everywhere, old, antique-looking and open.
Itisan aviary, after all. There are birds flying around,free, but not really. Not tons of them, just enough for it to be distracting as shit. But I just keep moving. Ignoring it all.
Ignoring the large brass bars of a birdcage the size of a prison cell just over yonder…
What in the actual fuck…?
The stone walkway seems as if it’s wrapping around the outer edge of the mansion—this place is so bizarrely designed. An honest to Godcastle, built for a villain.
At least he’s on-brand.
Trying doors, I’m finding them all locked, and I’m about to start panicking. Until, finally, a knob turns. Nerves are popping my pulse as I take a breath and slowly pull the door open.
At first, I think it’s a closet, or a pantry, or something. It’s so dark in here, I can’t see shit. Dim light and voices are comingfrom up ahead, so I follow them, clutching my knife at my back in case I have to slash my way out of here.
There’s a commotion coming from the other side of a wall before me. Shouting and lots of clomping footsteps. It feels like this wall is separating me from the rest of the mansion. Hesitantly, I reach out and place my palm flat on it. My forehead lines.
Is it a… shelf? That’s weird…
It feels like a bookshelf.
Running my fingers over it verifies this. Books. A wall of them.
Plucking one, I draw it toward myself. And would you look at that…
I canseeright into the study.
My eyes are bugging, heart leaping up to my ribs. But I keep my lips zipped and stand stiller than a statue. Watching The Ivory’s men rush around through the thin slit in the wall.
Fuck me. I’m in a hidden passageway… Spying from behind a goddamn bookcase.
Not sure why I’m surprised. Thisisthe home of an eccentric weirdo with too much money for his own good.
“Bring him in here!” Someone shouts, a crowd of cartel men making a hole as someone is dragged into the room, kicking and screaming.
My stomach falls.
“Get the fuck off me!” Officer Hancock shouts, thrashing about while large men struggle to hold him down on a gurney made from a folding table.
I can’t see very well from this position. There are too many people in the way. Moving down the shelf, I remove another book, hoping to get a better view of what they’re doing to him. That’s when I spot them…
Doctors Johansson and Hassan, crowding around a bleeding Officer Hancock.
And standing off to the side, looking exhausted and miserable, but still too damn gorgeous to be real, is my fiancé.
Lemuel!
I have to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from calling out to him.
“Let me go, you pricks!” Hancock bellows, still fighting.
