Chapter 8 The House

The driver, whose name happened to be Sarsk, sped past down a deserted road that was only sided with trees. It was like gliding through a dark forest that led to the home of a coven.

It was so out of the city that I was used to seeing before being locked up for two years. I tried not to think about Miguel and Maria's conversation from that night. About how Maria mentioned that Donovan might kill me. He did look murderous and inscrutable but I couldn't shake off a feeling that I'd be safe around him if only I didn't provoke him.

So that should solve it. If I wanted to live, I should only avoid my husband. Easy, right?

I have a nudge that he won't kill me so soon. He doesn't look like the kind of person to want to put someone out of their misery without giving them something worse than death.

Shaking my head, I pushed away my wandering thoughts and braced myself as the car slowly approached a wrought iron gate the height of a gargoyle mounted in front of a catholic church.

I held my breath as Sarsk pushed a button on the dashboard, prompting the gates to pull back.

He drove up a winding road that happened to go for miles and miles until we finally approached a crest that seemed to descend into an Eden-like paradise. I couldn't hold back my glee as the car slowly drove down the rest of the path into a circular driveway that encircled a fountain.

Around the fountain were soft, little flowers that seemed to shimmer until I strained my vision and realized the fountain was surrounded by a pond. A pond with floating flowers in it.

Did Mafia men live in such dreamlike places? After idyllic pond and fountain, I found myself waiting in the parked car as Sarsk rushed to the steps that led into a brooding mansion of a house.

I don't know if mansion is the right word. It loomed over us like some sort of conventional hotel. God, how many rooms did this house have? The front of the building boasted tall, ionic columns that sprang from the earth up to the eaves that umbrellaed half the steps.

Each window looked like it had been artfully carved and installed by a Renaissance fanatic who did stuff for fun. The doors, wooden but modern, seemed taller than average. The front of the building was a mix of sixteenth-century Greek architecture and whatever modern trend was popular in the city.

"In you go," Sarsk voice commanded as he opened the door for me. I wasn't expecting him to because I thought I'd remain in the car until Donovan returned from wherever he'd gone. I thought I'd be controlled and micromanaged like I'd been in the hands of the twins this past year.

Not knowing what else to do, I silently followed Sarsk up the stairs; there were ten of them, and I waited as he knocked on the huge wooden doors with a brass handle.

How quaint.

The doors opened, and a gust of something warm and sweet blew past us as we slid through the doors. There was nobody behind the doors, but I couldn't think about how odd that was because the inside of the house took my breath away.

My neck became semi-permanently inclined upwards as I mindlessly followed Sarsk through the lobby, enjoying the high ceilings and golden lights. The tall windows I'd seen outside were letting in the reflections of the early sunrise, casting the living area in a beautiful tinge of orange and purple.

We walked past more columns before I found myself going up the stairs that were a few feet away from what seemed to be a dining area.

Sarsk said nothing when we got to a door and stopped in front of it. His eyes bored into mine as he raised an eyebrow as if expecting me to be the one telling him what to do.

I didn't miss the metal glint of a gun I saw shadowing his suit coat so I nervously averted my gaze from his pockets and focused on the door instead.