Blue Flames

Chapter 26

Paris' weather in early September was beautiful. The remnants of summer warmth and the beginnings of fall made for pleasant climate.

We got into two SUVs from the hangar, our luggage loaded into the trunks. Arthur's house was a good distance outside of Paris, a short drive from the airport.

I had to do a double take when Arthur pulled over near a metal gate. The building I could see inside could only be described as a palace. Stretching behind dazzling greenery, the house was a masterpiece of french baroque architecture. The symmetrical design, the mansard roof, the wide stairway and the numerous windows were beautiful, and intimidating. I wouldn't want to live in a place like this, maybe visit once in a while. It was too beautiful and too big to be a home.

The doors opened automatically, and after passing by stunning gardens and animated fountains, Arthur drove down a sloping entrance that lead to an underground parking lot.

A staircase climb later, we were inside the house. Its interior did nothing to change my mind about it.

High ceilings and low hanging chandeliers. Gilded walls decorated with renaissance art and gold painted sculpture pieces. It was like walking into a museum, not a house.

We were greeted by three vampires, one shapeshifter and two witches. The shapeshifter, dressed in an ankle length black dress that blended perfectly with the setting, was the head housekeeper. The staff were obviously very glad to have Arthur in the house again, and Arthur greeted each and every one of them with the familiarity of an old friend.

We were all then shown to our rooms to rest. Since everyone else knew their way around the place, I had the honor of being escorted to my quarters by no other than the palace lord himself.

"You don't like the house." Arthur said as we walked down a hallway. It wasn't a question but a statement. A reminder that this man saw more than I would've liked him to.

Another gaudy statue of a half dressed man. I tried not to grimace, "It's not that. This is...nice."

He chuckled, stopping in front of a set of double doors, "Now you want to be polite?"

"Hey," I glared at him, "when am I never polite!"

He opened the doors and gestured for me to go in. The room was all burgundy silk drapes and persian carpets. The four poster bed was large enough for four people, the low chandelier big enough to illuminate the spacious room, and the fireplace wide enough for me to stand in.

It was beautiful. It was awful.

"Mhm, you definitely don't like it."

He looked amused, so it probably wasn't rude to tell him that his house wasn't to my taste. I stopped at the edge of the carpet, feeling as if I'd ruin it by stepping on it with my boots.

"I don't like it," I took off my boots and stepped near the bed. Arthur leaned by the door, his arms crossed. "It doesn't feel like a home."

"Mhm," he nodded, "then you will definitely not like your home in Ireland."

"My home isn't in Ireland." I unstrapped my sword with a sigh, noting that my luggage was already set next to a door that I assumed led to a closet. It hadn't escaped my notice how my luggage had grown from a lone backpack when I first arrived at Portland to a full suitcase worth of clothes and weapons. Mostly weapons.

"Where is it, then? Your home?" Arthur asked when I gingerly sat on the lavish bed. I sank.

I swallowed, looked out the wide window to the gardens outside. They were beautiful, but too groomed, too tame. It wasn't wild. Not like the place I grew up in.