“Welcome back, sire,” the man greeted. “Shall I park your car in the garage?”
Obsidian tossed him the keys. “Jeffrey, I’d like you to meet Penelope. Penelope, this is Jeffrey, one of theheurosp.”
“Very nice to meet you,” she greeted and earned an answering, “It’s a pleasure to have you here, madam.”
Without any additional pleasantries, Jeffrey scurried along, making his way to the car.
“What do you think so far?” Obsidian asked, taking her hand and leading her up to the doors.
“All this is yours?” The sweet scent of flowers drifted on the breeze.
“It is. Mine and quite a few others’, mind you.”
“Oh, well, if you have to share it”—Penelope grinned—“then it might as well be a shanty.”
Obsidian laughed and she found she loved the sound.
“Welcome to our shanty,” he said, motioning for her to precede him inside the open door.
She paused in the circular foyer, attempting to take it all in. The Mediterranean theme was carried into the house. Rectangular stones in a variety of gray tones lined the floors and the walls, carrying up at least four stories to the glass dome overhead. A chandelier the size of a dining room table dangled from up high, an intricate combination of iron and glass to blend with the rest. It was breathtaking, really. Any other time, Penelope would’ve been in awe of the charm, the design. But right now, she figured a quick peek was far more than her sluggish brain could handle.
“Stairs to the second floor,” Obsidian said, gesturing toward a dramatic curving staircase, its hardwood and wrought iron spindles gleaming.
“What’s on that floor?”
“Game room, thefiestreigh’sprivate quarters,” he said simply before nodding his chin to the right. “This is one of the libraries.”
Sure enough, the walls of books pretty much gave it away.
“You have more than one library?”
“We have a lot of books,” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in a smirk. “And this leads to the main floor.”
“Are these”—she glanced at all the openings leading out of the foyer—“doors?”
“They are,” Obsidian confirmed.
It seemed odd this day and age considering the whole open-concept theme everyone had taken on.
Then it hit her. “To keep the sun out.”
“Yes.” Obsidian exhaled slowly. “The doors are an added precaution, kept closed during the day in the event the front doors were to be opened.”
“Can theheurospgo out during the day?”
“Yes,” he answered. “They’re human.”
Ah. Humans taking care of angels. Not quite what she expected. Then again, nothing was as she’d expected.
Penelope turned to face him. “What happens if you’re exposed to sunlight?”
Obsidian removed his sunglasses, his molten silver gaze settling on her face. “We’ll burn. And yes, it will kill us.”
She studied him for a moment, still unsure how to process all of this information. It was one thing to read about it in fiction. Something totally different to encounter it in real life.
Before she could ask another question, Obsidian urged her toward a short staircase that led down to a spacious hallway lined with the same stone pillars she’d seen out front. A beautiful aqua-blue and gold rug ran the entire length, several pieces of furniture sitting atop it, as well as a few doors recessed between the columns on both sides, turning what should’ve been a hall into another room.
“You mentioned you had dogs,” she said casually, wondering if they were inside.
