Jenna Black - Dark Descendant

But I was only going to move in for a little while, I told myself. Just until I could figure out some other way to protect Steph. If putting up with Jamaal and his hostility was the price I had to pay for her safety, then I was ready to pay it.

But I had a sneaking suspicion matters were not settled between Jamaal and me, no matter what Anderson had ordered, or what Jamaal had grudgingly promised.

After dinner, I wentback to my hotel and packed up my meager belongings. I hadn’t brought a whole lot of stuff, but I was reluctant to go home and pack a bigger suitcase. It wouldn’t surprise me if Konstantin was having my place watched, and I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore Anderson’s warnings. I needed to establish myself as being under Anderson’s protection before I ran into Konstantin or Alexis again. Anderson had promised to call Konstantin and “register” me as being under his protection as soon as I arrived back at the mansion.

I called Steph before I left and let her know I wasn’t going to be at my home number for at least a few days. Naturally, she tried to wring details out of me, but there were none I could give her. I just told her the same thing I’d told her at dinner last night, that a disgruntled wannabe client was giving me trouble. She was far from satisfied, but she let the subject drop, for which I was profoundly grateful.

It was almost eleven o’clock by the time I pulled up in front of the gates of the mansion again. Fate decided to screw with my head and dumped a bunch of unexpected rain on Arlington the moment the gates opened to admit me. My hands squeezed tight on the steering wheel, and I swallowed a lump of dread that formed in my throat. I did not want a repeat of the evening’s near panic attack. I sucked in a deep breath and hit the gas, concentrating hard to keep any potential flashbacks at bay.

When I parked once again on the circular drive, I was pleasantly surprised to find Maggie waiting for me under the shelter of the porch roof. She was by far the nicest of the Liberi I’d met so far, and I couldn’t help liking her. The rain pounded down relentlessly as I got out of the car and popped the trunk. It wasn’t terribly cold out, but the rain came with a generous dose of wind, and I wished I’d worn a heavier coat.

Maggie could have stayed safely under the porch roof and kept dry, but instead she beat me to the trunk and was lifting my suitcase out before I could get to it. The suitcase wasn’t particularly heavy, being a small roll-aboard and only lightly packed, but I was still surprised by how easily Maggie plucked it out of the trunk and scampered up the front steps with it.

I slammed the trunk shut and hurried to follow, eager to be out of the rain. When I caught up with Maggie on the porch, I reached for my bag.

“Let me take that,” I said. “You don’t have to carry my bag for me.”

She grinned at me. “Anderson’s got you on the third floor. Trust me, you don’t want to haul your suitcase all the way up there.”

I put my hand on the handle of the suitcase and gave a gentle tug, but she didn’t let go. I rolled my eyes. “Come on, I’m supposed to be living here now, right? So it’s not like I’m a guest and you have to carry my bag.”

“You don’t understand,” Maggie said, still grinning at me, a cheerful twinkle in her eye. She twisted the suitcase’s handle out of my grip, then lifted it one-handed over her head like it weighed no more than an empty grocery sack. “I’m descended from Zeus, through Heracles. I don’t have any storm magic, but I am seriously strong.” Yes, I could see that. “I even carry things for the guys sometimes, though it offends their masculine sensibilities so much it’s an argument every time.”

She said it lightly, and there was no change in her expression I could put my finger on, but I got the feeling that it bugged her. I guess it had to be kind of tough to be a strong woman in a household full of supernatural alpha males, most, if not all, of whom had been born in times when society accepted it as fact that women were lesser beings.

I followed Maggie up the grand front staircase, which featured a remarkably genuine-looking reproduction of Winged Victory on the landing, making me feel like I had been magically transported to a museum. When we reached the second floor, Maggie gestured with her free hand toward the long hall leading to the right.

“That’s the east wing, which is Anderson’s. The first door on the left is his study, and you can go in there whenever you want as long as the door is open. If the door is closed, knock first or he’ll get cranky. The rest of the wing is off-limits unless you’re invited or unless there’s an emergency.”

This information naturally set my suspicious mind to wondering what Anderson might be hiding in the east wing, but maybe I’d just seen Beauty and the Beast too many times. It was, as he had pointed out, his house, and it was only fair that he have his own private space within it, even if he was living with a bunch of other Liberi .

“The west wing is where Jamaal, Blake, and Logan’s apartments are,” Maggie continued, gesturing to the left and then starting up the next set of stairs. “Jack, Leo, and I all have rooms on the third floor.”

“I haven’t met Leo yet,” I said. I was beginning to think he was a bit of a recluse, because even when I’d been in the process of investigating Emmitt’s so-called “cult,” I’d rarely caught sight of him.

“He’s not very sociable,” Maggie responded. “He’s a descendant of Hermes, who was a god of commerce. If we didn’t remind him to eat and sleep every once in a while, he’d spend every second of every day sitting at his computer scrutinizing the market. We tease him about it, but the kind of money he brings in makes it possible for us to do a lot of good. And live well ourselves, while we’re at it.”

“Who’s Anderson descended from?” I asked. “You’ve told me everyone else’s ancestor, but not his.”

“That’s because I don’t know. He’s very mysterious about it. No one recognizes his glyph, and he’s not saying.”

“Any idea why not?”

“Nope,” Maggie replied cheerfully. “But if you want to see if you can pry the secret out of him, have at it.”

My only response was a soft snort. If Anderson wasn’t going to tell his closest friends, I was damn sure he wouldn’t tell me, so there was no point in even asking.

We’d finally reached the third floor, and Maggie led me down another long hallway. Even with eight or nine people living in the mansion, there were plenty of rooms to spare. Dust covers draped the furniture in many of the upstairs rooms.

The “guest room” Anderson had assigned me was actually a generous suite, with a huge bedroom, a luxurious bathroom, and a cozy sitting room, complete with a rectangular table against one wall that could serve as either a desk or a dining table. It was a hell of a lot nicer and more comfortable than my hotel had been.

“Do you want to take some time to unpack and freshen up?” Maggie asked. “Or would you rather have the grand tour first?”

I stifled a yawn. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in what felt like forever, and the king-sized four-poster in the bedroom was calling to me. However, I doubted I could sleep comfortably without thoroughly examining my surroundings first.

“Let’s do the grand tour,” I said. “I’m going to crash if I hold still for too long.”

“All right then. Follow me!”

The tour of the house lasted the better part of an hour, and it left me wishing I’d drawn a map as we went along. I’d been right about the house’s origins—it had once been a plantation. Which meant that it was huge, with a zillion rooms, and also meant that there were servants’ corridors and staircases all over the place. Combine those classic plantation features with a century’s worth of additions and renovations, and you had a dizzying maze. Or maybe it was just my own fatigue that made everything so confusing.