The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [137]
The lock wasn’t particularly complicated, about as sophisticated as most house locks. Turquoise’s tools were less than wonderful, but she had practiced this art a great deal, and within three minutes she felt the telltale click of success.
CHAPTER 9
THE COURTYARD WAS STUNNING.
The area was surrounded by the walls of Midnight, their natural stone texture enhanced with crawling ivy, and the ground beneath her feet was soft with thick green moss, dotted with smooth gray stones that rose in tempting seats. Low-growing trees decorated the ground, young willows and Japanese maples that bowed gracefully to their visitor. Slender irises grew from the edge of a small pool, their blooms past but their green leaves rising regally from their mossy bank.
I can see why someone would want to protect a place such as this. However, she could not see why Jaguar — a trainer, a slave trader, and a vampire — would care for the beauty of irises and ivy, no matter how kind a master he seemed.
She entered the courtyard with careful but quick steps, keeping her eyes open for anyone else that might be here. Jaguar was probably asleep at this hour, but she did not know if any humans or shape-shifters had permission to be inside these walls.
She was nearly at the center of the courtyard when a rustling of leaves caused her to turn, her excuses already on her lips.
“I was just …” The words died, useless.
The animal stalked silently from the grove of willows, its dark-amber eyes regarding her carefully.
Turquoise was no expert on felines; she simply knew this one was big. The creature was probably longer than she was tall. It stretched lazily and she saw extended claws press into the moss; one swipe could probably take off her hand. She didn’t know enough to identify the breed by its spots, but considering the master of this place, she could make a reasonable guess as to which this one was.
These two, her mind amended, as a second jaguar emerged from the undergrowth. This one was smaller and lighter, and a ragged line of scar tissue marred her muzzle, running to her ear and leaving a trail of pearl where one beautiful golden eye had been destroyed.
Turquoise knew not to panic. These creatures were bigger than most dogs, but they were still animals; she knew better than to run from them.
Instead, she made her voice smooth and calm as she spoke to the female, whose lead the larger jaguar seemed waiting to follow.
“Milady I didn’t mean to invade your courtyard.” One should always address a large, potentially dangerous animal with respect. She smiled, recalling her father’s words on the subject. Of course, he had been speaking about a stray dog at the time — dangerous, but not a jaguar. Her father’s mishmash of wisdom and advice formed most of the only good memories she still had.
As she spoke, she edged toward the doorway, careful neither to run nor to turn her back on the jaguar. “I didn’t realize this area belonged to anyone but Jaguar, and if you wish, I will certainly leave.”
She found her way blocked by the larger jaguar, and had to circle around to avoid him. He stretched in the shade directly in front of the doorway and closed his eyes to return to the nap she had probably interrupted.
“How like a cat,” she murmured. “Well, milady, I don’t suppose you’re going to ask him to move, are you?” The words got no response, but her attempt to edge past the male jaguar did: he drew back his lips, just near enough to a snarl to make her back off.
She could try the other door, but she hesitated to walk into the west wing without knowing what was going on. She would give it another hour or so. With luck, the jaguar would move from the south wing doorway. If not, she would have to try her luck in the vampire’s corridor.
To pass time, Turquoise ended up sitting in a patch of sunlight near the pool, working on her story to Jaguar for when he found her here, trying to do nothing that would aggravate the two felines.
The