J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [348]
“I knew they were special.”
“I’m not going to be far,” Cormia blurted.
“Which is good.”
As Cormia stepped out of the room, she was careful to shut the door quietly.
“Madam?”
She looked behind her. "Fritz? I thought you’d left with the tray.”
“I did.” He lifted the bouquet he was holding. “I needed to deliver these.”
“What lovely flowers.”
“They are for the second-floor sitting room.” He plucked out a lavender rose and offered it forward. “For you, mistress.”
“Why, thank you.” She took the delicate petals to her nose. “Oh, how lovely.”
Cormia jumped as something brushed her leg.
Bending down, she ran her hand over the black cat’s silky, resilient back. “Why, hello, Boo.”
The cat purred and leaned into her, his surprisingly strong body shifting her weight.
“Do you care for roses?” she asked him, offering him the bloom.
Boo shook his head and nudged at her free hand, demanding more attention.
“I adore this cat.”
“And he adores you,” Fritz said, then hesitated. “Mistress, if I may . . .”
“What is it?”
“The master Phury is down in the training center’s of fice, and I believe he could use some company. Perhaps you would—”
The cat let out a loud meow, trotted over in the direction of the grand staircase, and flicked his tail. It seemed as if, had he had arms and hands, he would have been pointing down to the foyer.
The butler laughed. “I think his lordship Boo agrees.”
The cat meowed again.
Cormia tightened her grip on the rose’s stem as she stood up. Maybe this was a good thing. She needed to tell the Primale that she was leaving. “I should like to see his grace, but are you sure now is the—”
“Good, good! I shall take you to him.”
The butler trotted off to the sitting room and returned a moment later. As he came back, there was a spring in his step and a glow to his face, as if he were doing a job he enjoyed.
“Come. Let us descend, mistress.”
Boo meowed again and led the way down the stairs and to the left, then over to a black-paneled door tucked in a corner. The butler entered a code on a numerical pad and opened what turned out to be a six-inch-thick steel panel. Cormia followed Fritz down a couple steps . . . and found herself in a tunnel that seemed to go on forever in both directions.
Looking around, she pulled the lapels of her robe more closely together. It was strange to feel claustrophobic in the midst of so much space, but she was abruptly conscious that they were underground and trapped inside.
“The code, by the way, is 1914,” the butler said as he closed them all in and checked to make sure the lock was properly engaged. “That would be the year the house was built. You just enter it here on these pads to get through any of the doors along the way. The tunnel is made up of concrete and steel, and is sealed at all ends. And everything in it is monitored by a security system. There are cameras”— he pointed to the ceiling—“and other monitoring devices. You are as safe here as you would be on the grounds or in the house itself.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “I was feeling . . . a bit unnerved. ”
“Perfectly understandable, madam.” Boo brushed against her as if he were taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze of reassurance.
“We go this way.” The butler walked in a shuffle, his wrinkled face beaming. “The master Phury will love to see you.”
Cormia held on to her rose and followed. As she went along, she tried to cast the proper good-bye in her head, and found herself tearing up a little.
She had fought this destiny of hers in the beginning, fought against being First Mate. Yet now, as she was getting what she wanted, she mourned the loss that came with her relative freedom.
Upstairs in the hall of statues, John opened the second door down from his room and turned on the light.
Qhuinn entered the bedroom with care, like he hoped there was no mud on the soles of his New Rocks. “Nice crib.”
I’m right next door, John signed.
Both of their phones went off at the same time, and the text was from Phury: Classes canceled for the coming week. Please log on to