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I smiled. "Right. Sorry. And honestly, I don't think Pamela is responsible for the more gruesome tales of my youth. Definitely not Todd."
"Why definitely?"
I shrugged and continued down the steps. "I'm pretty sure I found the stories on my own." I turned to head out across the next terrace. "Ahead, you'll see the lily pond--" I stopped. "Shit. Lily pond. Ricky."
"Interesting word association."
Hopefully, I didn't blush. I busied myself pulling out my cell phone and typing in a text, and then . . .
"No signal," I said. "Do you . . . ?"
He checked. "The same. Did he have classes today?"
"No, he's free. I guess he'll just be well-caffeinated by the time we're done." I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. "Okay, as I was saying, the next stop on the tour is the lily pond, which is completely overgrown. If you look beyond the sunken gardens, you'll see vandalized statues. The historical records call them herms, which is technically inaccurate. A herm is a column with a head and, well, Hermes is a fertility god, so you can guess what else they had. These ones were clothed, much to my twelve-year-old self's bitter disappointment."
He shook his head as he followed me down more steps.
"The swimming pool is way down here," I said. "Right at the beach side."
"The girl said you were here to find something. What?" When I sighed, he said, "Did you really think I'd be distracted?"
"Hoped."
"The fact that you are reluctant to tell me indicates the message was not a positive one. There's some sort of danger, isn't there, if you go looking?"
"She said that I'll be hurt, but not physically."
"Doesn't that matter?"
I walked down the last few steps to the beach.
Gabriel continued. "Seeing something that leaves a mental or emotional mark is no different from tripping and breaking your ankle on the way to see it. In fact, I'd suggest it's worse."
I turned to look at him.
"Yes?" he said.
Did you really just suggest that emotional pain is worse than physical?
He repeated, "Yes?" with a touch of impatience.
I said, "Nothing," and continued toward the pool.
"Am I arguing with myself, Olivia? What exactly did the girl . . ."
He trailed off. When I looked back, he was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gabriel?"
The sun flashed, as it had done earlier, and I was again plunged into night. This time there were lights everywhere, the Villa glowing with them. Music poured from the open windows. Not ethereal fae music, but the sounds of a string quartet. I could hear chatter and laughter, too, human in origin. The house was whole and new, sparkling in the moonlight. Figures walked down the curving steps.
"Oh my," a girlish voice said. "Thank goodness Nathaniel installed an elevator. I only wish it was working already."
Two other feminine voices laughed with her. They turned a curve into the moonlight. None looked older than me. All three were wearing gorgeous Empire-waisted dresses. The one in the middle was no more than twenty, with finger-curled blond hair. She'd referred to Nathaniel Mills by his given name, which left little doubt who this was. His
bride, Letitia Roosevelt.
