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But…wait…
Cort leaned down and squinted out the window, trying to get a better view of what he knew he shouldn’t be seeing.
But…yeah…he was.
“Grey, is there a zoo behind the house? Or maybe a wild animal sanctuary?”
“What?” Grey demanded, his voice jumping an octave or two.
“A zoo. I swear I saw a giraffe.”
“Where?” Grey’s voice came out high-pitched and slightly strangled.
“In your backyard. A giraffe just poked its head above the trees.” Cort looked over at Grey to find that he’d even turned toward the French door as if he were trying to see out the window. A second later, Grey sighed heavily as if he’d suddenly realized what he was doing.
“A giraffe?” Grey said in a dull, disbelieving voice.
“I’m not hallucinating, I swear!”
“Is it still there?”
Cort looked back, but the giraffe head with the long black tongue was now gone. “No. I can’t see it.”
“No, we don’t have an animal sanctuary, and there isn’t a zoo nearby. I think it was just a tree limb. Probably how the light and shadows hit it. Let’s keep moving.” Grey patted and fumbled around until he finally came up with Cort’s arm. He was a little surprised to feel Grey pull him forward with a little more confidence.
Cort knew he’d seen a freaking giraffe. There was no way it could have been a tree…right?
They moved easily through the house, pausing in the main hall to point out the formal living room and then a set of doors that led to the master suite, which belonged to Clay and Dane.
Grey paused again, frowning in the direction of their bedroom. “They offered to swap rooms with me. Because of the eyes,” he said softly, waving his hand in front of his face. “I didn’t want to. They’re comfortable, and I’m comfortable in the apartment. It’s my space.” He stopped and chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Should I have taken them up on the offer?”
“Do you feel isolated in the apartment? Alone?”
“No. I like it out there. It’s mine and someone is always dropping in. I don’t have time to feel alone.”
“Then I think you made the right call. As long as you’re leaving your cave on a regular basis, I think you’re going to be fine.” Grey released a deep breath and relaxed. “What about the double doors next to the master bedroom?”
“Oh, that’s the billiards room. Dane hasn’t started working on that room yet. It’s got a great setup for a bar.”
They walked to the billiards room together. Cort was only meaning to stick his head inside to take a peek out of curiosity. He’d never been in a house that had a dedicated room for billiards. But there was no sign of a pool table.
There was, however, Lucien standing in the center of the room with a candelabra in one hand. He was snapping the fingers of his other hand over each wick. And one by one, they lit into flames. But Cort couldn’t see a lighter or matches clasped in his fingers.
“Grey,” Cort croaked. “There’s no pool table in here. Just Lucien. With candles.”
“Yeah, we haven’t gotten one yet. We—oh! We should move along,” Grey declared, his voice suddenly very loud. Grey roughly grabbed him by the shoulders and forcibly turned him the way they came. “Let’s see the rest of the house.”
“Grey,” Cort started, but he got cut off trying to get Grey to loosen his grip enough so the man didn’t run him into the door as they tried to get into the hall. “Is Lucien like one of those close-up magicians?”
“What?”
“I swear he was lighting those candles without a lighter or matches. At least that’s what it looked like.”
“Oh. Yeah. Hobby of his. He just prefers to do it in private. Stage fright, I guess.”
“Uh-huh,” Cort said as they finally got into the hall. It sounded logical. Sort of. But there was something strangely panicked in Grey’s tone. He wasn’t buying it at all, but then, he was also the one claiming that he saw a freaking giraffe in their yard in southern Georgia. Maybe there was something wrong with his eyes.
“I swear, we have a totally normal house. No giraffes. No crazy magic. We—”
“Hey, Dane!” Wiley’s voice rang out overhead. Cort looked up the winding stairs to see the young man holding the railing, but he was looking across the second floor rather than down at them.
“Yeah!” Dane shouted back. His voice sounded slightly muffled, as if he were in another of the rooms up there.
“Do you still have the Water Weaver’s spell book from 1827 through 1863? I thought you were reading it last.”
Grey moaned softly, dropping his head so that it was pressed against Cort’s left shoulder blade. “Seriously, just shoot me now.”
“No, I put it by the TV in your office. Look next to your Xbox,” Dane shouted.
