Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(7)
“They don’t, normally. Look up,” Sofie said. “See the dome?”
I tipped my head back and squinted at the dark night sky above us, finally noticing the web of black lines holding the glass panes between them in an intricate pattern. The giant courtyard was an atrium.
“Feel free to tour the gardens,” Leonardo offered, smiling encouragement.
I hesitated only a second before returning the smile and taking off down one of the paths like a child investigating a secret garden. Until tonight, a place like this had only existed in fairytales filled with royal palaces and princesses. Now, as I strolled along the cobblestone path, inhaling the heady scents of lavender and mint, it was real. And I was living in it.
Something white in the center of the atrium caught my eye. Drawn to it, I stopped before a large statue—a sculpture of a woman in a flowing gown, arms reaching toward the sky, hands awkwardly clasped together as if offering up a gift to the heavens.
“Spectacular, isn’t she? Truly one of a kind,” a male voice called in an unusual accent. I jumped, startled, as an attractive blonde man of about thirty in a pinstriped suit approached along the path. “The smoothest white marble imaginable. Go on, touch it!” he said in a commanding tone.
I obliged almost mechanically, leaning forward to slide my fingertips along the statue’s toes. They were icy cold. “Very smooth,” I agreed, straightening. Blood instantly rushed to my head. The ground began to sway. I closed my eyes, vaguely aware of a strong hand grabbing my arm and moving me.
When the dizziness disappeared, I found myself sitting at a bistro table near the statue. Sofie, Leonardo, and the blonde man stood around me, concerned expressions on their faces. What’s wrong with me lately? I felt my cheeks grow hot. “Must be the flight. Or the wine. I’m sorry.” I smiled sheepishly. When Sofie’s distressed expression didn’t fade, I added, “This atrium is spectacular,” hoping to redirect their attention.
The blonde man’s sparkling cobalt–blue eyes roamed over the gardens, a proud smile stretching his lips. “Isn’t it, though? I hate the long, cold winters but I love this city too much to move to a warmer climate. This atrium is the perfect compromise.”
“Yes, the gas company agrees whole–heartedly. The fool keeps them in business, heating this place,” a man muttered darkly behind me in a thick French accent. I turned to see a tall, broad–shouldered man with chestnut brown hair and black eyes marching toward us. He was dressed as sharply as the blonde.
“You ridicule, yet you have no trouble taking full advantage,” the blonde retorted with a deep scowl, pointing toward the bistro table. When his attention fell back to me, his face lit up again. “Welcome to our home, Evangeline! I’m Sofie’s friend, Viggo. That grouch there is Mortimer.” Viggo draped his arm casually around my shoulder as if he were a long–time friend. My shoulders tensed in response, unaccustomed to the closeness. Luckily, if he noticed, he didn’t seem bothered.
This entire place is theirs? Wide–eyed, I scanned the multitude of balconies again. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Oh, Sofie warned us that you were a darling, with such manners,” Viggo said, smiling. “I hope it didn’t take too much convincing to get you here.”
Mortimer chuckled deeply. “Sofie could convince a troll to abandon his bridge if she set her mind to it.”
Viggo threw an unimpressed glare at Mortimer before turning back to me. “But you are far from a troll, my beautiful Evangeline.” He laughed, his eyes twinkling as he pulled me out of my chair and squeezed me in a fatherly side–hug.
It was how I had always imagined my father would embrace me, if I had known him. My dad had never been in the picture, deciding fatherhood was too daunting the second he learned of his seventeen–year–old girlfriend’s pregnancy. Oddly enough, he had no concerns about scaling treacherous cliffs. It was a freak mountain climbing accident—not the cries of a little girl—that had killed him.
My face flared with heat at Viggo’s brazen compliment. “Give her room to breathe, Viggo,” Sofie warned. “She’s been two seconds away from a mild coronary the entire trip here.”
Viggo chuckled. “Come. Let’s show you to your room. You must be exhausted. This way.”
I turned to follow him. And gasped.
Four beasts stood in a row ten feet away from me, their unsettling, beady yellow eyes studying me with suspicion. I call them beasts because they were simply too large to be anything else. Their cropped, pointy ears were level with my shoulders—and at five foot nine, I was by no means considered short. Their muscular bodies, covered in glossy black fur, were easily triple my weight.
One of them sauntered forward, its talon–like claws clicking against the cobblestones with each step. It halted in front of Mortimer for a sniff and a pat, its gaze never leaving mine.
“Evangeline, meet Maximus, Sebastian, Charleston, and Remington. My fiercely loyal and protective guard dogs.” Mortimer gave the dog a playful shove before pulling its head affectionately into his chest.
“What kind of dogs are they?” I asked warily, edging back to stand behind Viggo.
“Oh, they’re … a unique strain. No others exist in the world.”
“Because their mother was a horse?” I mumbled under my breath.