Dominion (Guardian Angels) - By Melody Manful Page 0,29
about fifteen minutes of driving, the limo was arriving at a luxury mansion that stood on a cliff in front of us.
“She’ll be late today,” Felix answered.
An automatic metal gate opened the moment we reached the mansion, allowing the limo onto the patterned concrete driveway. Topiaries lined the driveway leading toward the two-story mansion looming ahead of us. I noticed a tennis court behind the trees to our left and an iron-and-marble gazebo decorated with Greek caryatids on our right.
A water fountain bubbled in front of the main entrance to the house. In the middle of the fountain, a life-size Greek marble sculpture of a woman held a large scalloped shell with both hands as water overflowed it. Underneath the sculpture, streams of water spiraled high into the air, reaching the shoulders of the woman before falling back into the basin.
The limo parked in front of the mansion and Abigail stepped out, saying, “Thanks for the ride.” Then she walked toward a baroque-inspired covered portico.
Tristan and I followed her into the house. The first thing I saw when we entered the grand foyer was the double wrought iron staircase. The two-story, sky-lit foyer boasted a vaulted ceiling, which was crowned with intricate moldings. I looked down at the contrasting marble-and-stone floor.
“Do you want something, Miss Cells?” Ben asked.
“No, thank you,” Abigail answered politely.
I turned from her to look at some pictures of her and a woman who I assumed was her mother. I imagined the other miscellaneous people in the portraits were also family.
“Call us if you need anything,” Felix said as he walked in and stood behind her. Abigail nodded and passed through an opened door across the room. Tristan and I followed.
The room Abigail entered was classic. It looked like one of those fancy human restaurants, very tidy and unique. There was a long dining table in the middle and a flat-screen TV hung on the wall beside a glass cupboard filled with gilded silver plates.
Abigail didn’t stop when she entered the room; she went on and opened another door. A woman with dark hair and a sunny face was already in the next room, standing behind a deluxe double oven. “Hi, Morgan.” Abigail greeted the woman, who I assumed was the house help.
“How was school, honey?” Morgan walked over to Abigail.
“It wasn’t bad.” She made her way to a chair.
There was a glass door close to where Abigail sat, and from where I was standing, I could see a veranda behind her. Two chairs sat on the veranda as well as a little glass table. A swimming pool was just beyond the veranda. I glanced at Abigail as she wordlessly gazed at the pool. She seemed lost in thought because she didn’t even notice when the woman placed a sizeable bowl of ice cream in front on her.
“Are you okay, honey? You look a bit tired.”
“I’m fine, Morgan.”
Liar.
“Well, eat your ice cream. I made your favorite—strawberry-vanilla swirl.”
The ice cream looked disgusting to me. Seriously, I didn’t know why humans enjoyed eating all that rubbish. We angels had a different appetite, while the Lumenians gained strength by feeding on the happiness and love around them, the Grandinians grew strong by feeding on the weakness, sadness, and pain of others. I, on the other hand, inflicted pain and fed off it.
Abigail ate three spoonfuls of her ice cream without looking at it. Morgan watched her silently from behind the counter.
“The children’s hospital called,” Morgan said. “They can’t wait to see you Friday.” Suddenly, Abby’s face lit up.
“I can’t wait, either,” Abigail said with a smile. She ate another spoonful of ice cream. “I ordered them new books and toys. They should be here tomorrow.”
What a waste of space she was.
Abigail’s phone beeped. She grabbed it, glanced at the screen, and smiled. As she read through the message, her face clouded. I looked over her shoulder and glanced at the message.
411!!!! It’s on. 2nite. Concert at 8:00 XD. C ya soon. Kiss, UR BFF Sarah *w*
“Thanks for the ice cream, Morgan. I have some homework to do.” Abigail said and hurried out of the kitchen.
Tristan and I followed her up the double staircase and into her bedroom.
Abigail’s bedroom was a roomy suite, which included a small sitting area containing a bookshelf, sofa, TV, and another shelf packed with DVDs and CDs. There were two open doors that could be seen in her room, one led to her walk-in closet, the other to her bathroom.