by TW Knight
Sam crossed his arms over his chest.
"And you must be Hogarth." Tam moved past the twins with his hand outstretched. "Welcome, brother."
"Hogart." The big man emphasized the "T".
"I stand corrected."
Hogart grunted and shed his furs. "Damn hot here."
Bree choked. She'd considered him an old, if powerful, man. Yet under all those layers of fur, he sported a body like all the other warriors. Cut and well-muscled. Obviously having silver grey hair had nothing to do with age.
"You'll adjust. Just be thankful the humidity is relatively low." Tam gave the newcomer a quick once over. "Kaz will want to debrief you once you're cleaned up."
Hogart grunted again.
"Well, then." Serephina swept in and looped her arms around the twins' shoulders, guiding them toward the building. "As soon as Boomer called, we set up rooms for you next to each other. But if you want to move, it's not a problem. We have several empties." She smiled. "I see the airline lost your luggage. I'll find you something to wear until your stuff arrives."
"Oh, please." Gina giggled as she joined them. "All you need here is a bathing suit. And even that's optional." She giggled again. "So who do you belong to?" She grasped Bree's free arm like they'd been best friends all their lives.
Sam locked himself in place and spun on the women. "My sister doesn't belong to any one," he snapped.
"Touchy, touchy." Gina stepped forward and tapped him on the nose. "You'll fit right in here with all that testosterone." With a wave of her hand, she dismissed Sam. When Serephina gave her an openly astonished look, Gina puffed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and explained to Bree, "Now that I'm studying for my GED, I love surprising them with all the big words I've learned. Well, who did you get? Do you know?"
"Bass."
Gina burst into laughter. "Oh my God, that's so perfect! He's such an ass. Don't let any of that playa' charm fool you. He is a straight up dog. Always raggin' on my Boom-Boom about being pussy-whipped. What about you," she asked Sam. "You're not big enough to be a Knight, although you are just as loud."
Behind her, Hogart bellowed about absurd rules punctuating Gina's point.
Bree laughed and Sam glared at her. "Stop that."
"Sorry," she snickered. "But she's right. You two could be brothers. You both yell a lot."
Grumbling under his breath, Sam turned and stomped up the stairs into the villa.
"Childish much?" Gina stuck her tongue out at his back.
"He's not adjusting well to this. We've been on our own for about ten years and now—"
"Now you have a family." Serephina pulled her into a hug. "Whether you want it or not."
Bree didn't resist the embrace.
Stifling tears, she pulled back and wiped her eyes. "Hey, we'd better catch up with Sam before he gets into trouble." Smiling broadly, Bree ran up the front stairs. The moment she crossed the threshold, she felt a sense of acceptance.
She was finally home.
Sam stood in the foyer on a giant mosaic, his jaw hanging open. Bree understood. If a museum and a palace had a child, this place would be the result. Every inch screamed wealth and luxury. Yet somehow the space was welcoming, if slightly disorganized.
As with the exterior, the inside was a mixture of different architectural styles. Maybe they had to stop building on and off through the years, she mused. Or they got bored halfway through and decided to mix it up.
To the right blazed the sun-drenched oranges and reds accented with gold and cobalt blues reminding her of a Travel Channel special she'd seen on Morocco highlighting Marrakesh. The hall split off into an indoor courtyard with a fountain surrounded by arching doorways accented metal scrollwork. Sunlight filtered through an open skylight, brightening the stonework and tables sporting vases with exotic flowers and primitive statues of animals. Bree sighed at the warmth the space gave off.
The area to the left was a room her Grams would have referred to as the 'formal parlor' to be used by visiting guests only. Flowering wrought iron vines arched over the entrance, giving the impression of a gate guarding a room covered in soft blues and greens accented with white and pink. From her vantage point, Bree spotted a fancy antique chaise, a small lamp decorated with cut crystals, and two floor-to-ceiling statues of young women holding birds as if ready to launch them into the air. All it was missing was the sign reading, Do Not Touch.
"Wow," she mumbled, bumping into Sam.
"No shit."
"Would you like to see your rooms now?" Serephina stood at the bottom of a giant staircase. When the twins nodded in unison, she laughed. "Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to explore and educate yourselves about the décor. Some of the world's greatest lost works of art and literature are here."
"Speaking of education," Breanna started.
Sam cut her off with a little smack to the arm. "Not now, Bree."
Their guide glanced down at them. "What?"
"Well Gina mentioned that she's getting her GED." She scuffed her foot. "I'm taking online college courses and one of my mid-terms is next week and I was wondering about computer access."
"We'll have to discuss it with Kaz. You're new and I'm not sure how far he's willing to bend his rules." She laughed to herself. "And we've forced him to bend them quite a bit lately." When Bree's shoulders drooped, she added, "Don't worry. I'll sic Cassidy on him once she's feeling better."
"Thank you."
When they reached the second floor landing, Serephina stopped. "Oh, before we continue, I should warn you about the servants. They're—"
"Demons!" Hogart's shout shook the building.
Everyone rushed to the railing to find Hogart below them with a pale child pinned to the wall by its neck.
"Don't you dare hurt Noni!" Gina rushed the big warrior, punching him in the nose.
Surprised, he dropped the creature he’d held and stepped back. "You're protecting a demon?"
"The Un-tar are good. They're our servants," Serephina called. "Gina, is everything ok?"
"Yeah. I think so. I'll take Noni down to the infirmary." Gina helped the female demon to her feet, checked her wings, and brushed off the little sundress she wore. Glancing over her shoulder as they walked away, she hissed, "Asshole," at Hogart.
"I can't believe you have demons living here," Sam snapped. "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering what the big guys turn into."
Bree gave him her best death look and mouthed, "Shut up."
Sam ignored her. "Aren't you worried those things will betray you?"
"That won't happen again." Serephina turned and walked away.
"Again! It's happened before?" Sam blocked her path.
"Yes. One of the Un-tar found a way to communicate with her old master through the barrier that protects the island. We still don't know how, but... It doesn't matter."
"What happened?" Bree placed a restraining hand on her brother's shoulder.
"When it was discovered what Lil-it had done, the other Un-tar tore her to shreds and ate her as a show of solidarity to us."
Tension rolled off Sam in waves. "Yeah, well, that's the kind of thing a demon would do to make you think that they are on your side."
"You'd best adjust your way of thinking, young man. You said it yourself that you know what the Knights turn into. You saw that they are part demon." The older woman shook her head, letting out an exasperated breath. "They saved your lives, so don't tell me that some demons can't be good."
"Yeah, I saw them. And you can't make me believe that at any moment your precious Knights won't turn on us."
"Possible," Hogart rasped as he approached them. "Happens when we've lived too long, fought too much— died too many times. We lose our minds."
Bree saw the pain in his eyes moments before the shields around his emotions slammed back into place.
"Where will my quarters be," he asked, shoving past Sam.
"Down the hall at the end. I understand you've been living alone a l
ong time so I thought you'd appreciate the space. You're only neighbor is Boomer and Gina across the hall from you."
"My thanks." He nodded respectfully and continued down the hall. At one door, he paused, touching the carving, an amused smile crossing his lips. In the next, breath he was gone.
After he left, Bree took a moment to look at the doors. Each was a different color with a different symbol carved deep into the wood. "What are those markings?"
"Don't know. When I first saw them, I thought they were the names of the people staying here, but then I discovered there weren't that many people on site." Serephina continued the tour. "Speaking of which, your rooms are here." She pointed to two doors. "You can switch if you don't like them. We have plenty. Now Bass' room is across the hall, Cassidy and Rail's are there at the bend. Tam moved into the one next Margarite's room just around the corner, and mine is just down from theirs. And you know Hogart is down at the end across from Boomer and Gina. The four singles— Hacker, Kaz, Tucker, and Zach —have rooms downstairs."
Still smiling, she opened the doors to the two rooms she offered.
"I'll leave you to get settled. If you need anything, just press the star button on the phone and start speaking, but don't expect an answer."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam stepped warily into the room she indicated as his.
"The Un-tar don't speak in a way that we can hear. Makes it hard for them to answer."
"Then how can we talk with them," Bree asked, peeking into the other room.
"Oh, they're really good at charades and they carry little white boards."
Bree blinked at the woman, waiting for the punch line. When one wasn't forthcoming, she shrugged and walked into the room.
"You're free to look around. The only off limits areas are the computer lab and Kaz's office when he's not there. The doors lock and we'll respect your privacy. We expect the same from you."
"Lovely prison you have here," Sam snarked before the door to his room slammed shut.
"Breanna?" Serephina stepped into the room. "I hope you'll think of this as a home, not a prison. I know it's difficult to get use to— rules and seclusion —but it really is the safest thing for you."
"Why?"
"Didn't Bass or the others explain about the demons hunting our kind? Hunting soul-keepers?" Shock lit Serephina's eyes.
"Oh, yeah they explained it, but I don't see what it matters. Sam and I have been fighting those things for most of our lives. We don't need protecting."
Chapter Thirteen
Sam listened through the door as his sister dropped the, "We fight demons," bomb on their guide, snickered, and turned to examine the room. Considering their past assorted living spaces, this was a fucking palace. Lush carpeting, dark polished woods, fine furniture including a king size bed covered in fresh cotton sheets in rich blue— nothing frilly or girlie.
Halfway through inspecting the dresser drawers, Sam's stomach protested being ignored. "Damn." There was no way he'd call for room service knowing full well those little demons would probably be the ones cooking. Not a problem. Serephina said they had free reign of the house, and he could cook for himself.
Sam turned toward the door and caught his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. He still wore his winter clothes and sweated a waterfall underneath them. He'd been so focused on what was around him, he hadn't noticed his own condition. Groaning, he stripped and headed for the shower.
Hot water, clean fluffy towels, and a billion soaps greeted him in the white and blue tiled room. After a few experimental sniffs, he chose something woodsy with a hint of citrus and lathered up. Once he was squeaky clean, he just stood under the spray to enjoy the water running over his body.
He could have stayed there for hours considering the water never turned cold, but a loud rumbling snapped him from his reverie.
"Food."
Grabbing a towel from the rack, Sam returned to the bedroom. In the closet he found an assortment of jeans, some board shorts and t-shirts in various sizes. Most were far too big. Selecting a pair of well-worn jeans and a tee, he ran the towel over his hair and dried himself off. He'd found underwear in the dresser, but wasn't comfortable with the idea they might be used—even if they had been cleaned. With a shrug, Sam chose to go commando and tucked the t-shirt into the jeans.
There was nothing available in the way of footwear, but with all the carpet and polished wood, he wouldn't need anything unless he went outside.
At the door, Sam listened, counted to ten before slipping into the hall. In the hall he hesitated battling with the impulse to check on his sister. Most likely he'd find her enjoying the comforts of the large bathtub or shower— if he interrupted her, there would be arguing and death threats.
His sister lamented more than once over the past few months about needing a bubble bath.
Once again, his stomach punctuated its opinion about how he wasn't on his way to the kitchen.
At the top of the stairs, Sam stopped and looked over the railing at the giant mosaic filling the entrance hall. He didn't know much about art, but he understood craftsmanship, and this thing was a masterpiece.
Below him a battle raged between demons, and if he was right, fallen angels like the ones he had as roommates. Three of the figures looked vaguely like the transformed versions he'd seen during the fight in Alaska. One warrior gazed up and Sam followed the line of sight. The entire domed ceiling was painted with bored-looking angels watching the battle.
With a shrug, he headed downstairs to find the kitchen.
Off to his left was the fancy blue room, which didn't look like anything he'd be interested in. The section to the right looked more promising, but first he checked out the area behind the stairs. A large wood door graced the right side of the hall and another smaller door stood under the stairs. Facing him on the back wall was a large painting, this one depicted battling angels. What interested him, though, was the hall stretching off to either side of the artwork.
Fabric softener scented the hall to the left. Well, if this place is set up anything like the rich people’s mansion in that British show Bree likes to watch, then the kitchen should be near the laundry in the “service” area of the house.
Unfortunately the servant's quarters would probably be back there, too. Grumbling, he pressed on.
After poking around, he found storage closets, cleaning supplies, the laundry, and eventually the kitchen. Stepping into the brightly lit room, he was greeted by clattering pots, clinking dishware, and cheery voices. At the center island sat the Hispanic woman and the big black warrior he'd met earlier. He searched his brain for their names.
Margarite and Tam.
To his dismay, two of the demon servants, female judging by their clothes, were in the kitchen as well.
Tam noticed him first and waved him in. "Come on in. You hungry?"
"Starved." Sam edged his way in, keeping the demons in sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Margarite adjust how she sat to hide the right side of her face, pulling her hair forward. Sam recalled how she'd hidden her face when they were introduced and it clicked into place. She was disfigured somehow. He'd seen injured vets act the same way when he'd done volunteer work at the Wounded Warrior Center with his grandfather. Like they were ashamed about how they looked.
Margarite smiled shyly and motioned to the stools. "Just tell them what you want. They can cook anything."
Sam glanced at the demons again. "I'll cook my own food, if you don't mind. You got canned soup?"
The tallest of the two demons stomped her foot and motioned to Tam with a wooden spoon, an annoyed look gracing her childlike face. Hell, if he had seen her on the street, Sam would have sworn she was teenage human with her little sister.
Tam's laughter rolled out in a burst. "Ale says you can cook if you want, just don't get in her way or make a mess of her kitchen or she'll bite your ass." To emphasis this, the demon smiled and snapped teeth which would make a Great White tremble.
> Sam jumped.
"Holy shit!"
Ale ignored his comment and pointed to the wall lined with stainless steel doors, directing him to the paneled wall along the back of the kitchen. A slight press on one panel opened a door, revealing the pantry. Turning her back on him, the demon returned to the stove.
Tam shook his head, still chuckling. "We don't have much processed food. The Un-tar prefer to cook with fresh food. But you might find some canned broth."
With a shrug, Sam stepped into the pantry. His mouth dropped open. It was like having a private grocery store. To his left row after row of old-fashioned pressure-sealed glass jars lined the shelves. He grabbed one filled with twisted pasta and a can of Italian spiced tomatoes. "Perfect."
Smiling, he returned to the kitchen, ready to ask for a pan— only to find Ale placing a pot filled with water on the stove. She set out a colander and a wooden spoon. "How did she—"
"The Un-tar are very observant," Tam answered, accepting a huge sandwich from the smaller demon with a nod. "She probably figured out what you picked up from where you were in the pantry."
"Oh." Knowing how observant the demons were did nothing to ease his disquiet about living in a house, on an island he couldn't leave. Since watching water boil made it take longer, Sam pulled out a stool and took a seat.
"I know you just got here, but how are you settling in?"
"Okay, I guess. The room's good, but the demon thing was a bit of a shock. I mean, if Gina hadn't stopped Hogart when he went off, you'd be one short servant," he said casually.
Silverware clattered to the floor. Ale ran toward Sam and grasped his arm, her eyes pleading.
"What the hell? Get off me!" He pushed her back.
"Who was attacked," Tam demanded.
"I don't know. One of them." Sam shoved a finger at Ale. "Gina called it Nanny or Ninny or something."
"Noni?"