The estate doesn’t have a live-in staff. Just a maintenance staff who comes once a week.”
“You keep paying them even though you don’t live here?” He gave me a surprised look, though some of his tension eased.
“I don’t pay them. There’s a trust that maintains the grounds. My mother’s side of the family was rich and left enough to take care of the place.”
Gray’s brows lifted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you really were a dragon.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d know if that was true,” I said and tugged him up the dock toward the stone steps that led up the hill into the trees. After few more steps up a flagstone path, the house came into view farther up the hill. A swath of glass windows stretched across the landscape, reflecting the gray light that was building on the horizon across the Sound. Nervous energy built in my belly at the old memories that rose unbidden. For the first time in more than a decade, I could picture my mother’s face, the image accompanied by the most acute sense of bittersweet longing.
We reached the terraced flagstone patio that skirted the house, and I followed it around to the front entrance. The sturdy wooden door rested in a recess flanked by lush beds filled with green plants that were just beginning to flower. Standing up on my toes, I fished the spare key out from behind the still-lit porch light. I unlocked the door and led Gray inside, inhaling the familiar scent of the pungent cleaning products the housekeepers used.
“This feels like a dragon’s home, even though the only energy I sense here is yours. You’re certain you or your dad can’t be linked to it in human records, right?”
I shrugged out of the coat Gray had magicked up for me and hung it on a peg inside the door, followed by the scarf and hat.
“The Vincents—Dad’s family, that is—aren’t tied to it at all. I guess I straddle both sides since I’m a Vincent on paper but a St. George by blood.” I swept my arms around the whitewashed foyer with its indigenous artwork hanging on the walls, mentally fighting back the encroaching ghosts that bombarded me with memories. “I’m the last living member of the St. George bloodline, so it’s all mine.”
Saying the words out loud helped dissolve some of the conflicting emotions. After Dad had moved us back to the city, I’d pestered him regularly, asking when we would go home. He’d eventually gotten frustrated and yelled at me that it wasn’t ours, and would never be ours again. Yet here I was, reclaiming my heritage, though I found it nearly impossible to venture farther in beyond the foyer.
I gritted my teeth and peered into the pale dawn light coming through the windows that overlooked the Sound. The formal living room ahead of us was still fully furnished, but everything in it was draped in white sheets, as was all the furniture in the large study just off the foyer. I expected all the rooms in the big house would look the same, and I wasn’t quite ready to blast through staking a claim on the place if it was only a temporary refuge. It was mine, but it felt strange coming back here without Dad, as if it wouldn’t feel right to reclaim it without his blessing.
Gray stepped close and took my hand, squeezing gently. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, and it sounds like this is as safe a place as any for the moment. Do we have a phone here? I’d like to make a couple calls if it’s okay.”
I grimaced. “I should too. The gallery manager is going to freak out if she takes a peek in the studio. And Renee and Josh…shit.”
“You should avoid contact,” Gray said. “I know it’ll look bad, but your safety is more important right now. I’ll find a way to get them a message that doesn’t involve calling them and potentially giving away our location, okay? Do any of them know this place is yours?”
I shook my head, but any other response I might have had faded from my mind, replaced by a buzz of panic that rose up over the realization that my show was pretty much tanked. Even if this craziness blew over in a couple days, all my progress from the last day had shattered. Even the base of my sculpture had been twisted into a contorted mess. There was