Silversong (The Fable Series, Book 3)

Chapter 18

The chauffeured Rolls-Royce is waiting outside the hotel at five o'clock sharp, just as Kitty had promised. I'm wearing a pair of sneakers and a cardi over a simple black strappy mini dress - the ensemble looks more "hanging out at the mall" than "posh nightclub wear," so I'm hoping I can find something in Kitty's closet to borrow for the night.

The chauffeur says "Good evening, Miss. Shields" as he opens up the car's back door for me, and I'm tempted to ask him if he works full time for Kitty, or if she just hired him as a once-off to pick me up.

Like Uber, but with Rolls-Royces. Ultra rich people stuff.

Inside, the interior is covered in a dark wood veneer, and the seats are smooth and supple chestnut brown leather.

I stare out at the darkening streets as we drive along the A40, street lamps flickering on as the sun sets over the Thames. We pass by a dizzying array of fascinating buildings - mega modern monstrosities side-by-side with ancient fortress style monuments, or Tudor manor houses wedged in-between apartment buildings. I wish I could ask the driver about some of the sights, but he seems distracted, all his attention focused on navigating the busy rush-hour traffic.

Finally, a place I recognize comes into view - the unmistakable outline of the Tower of London, its spire-topped stone turrets casting a silhouette against the dusky sky. Across the way from the magnificent building, stands an equally imposing marvel of architecture - a stunning white-stone manor house, with Corinthian columns soaring into the air and black wrought iron porticos.

"Witchwood Manor," I murmur the name, remembering how Nessy pointed it out to me on our drive from the airport to the hotel yesterday.

I expect the driver to pass by the building, but to my surprise he slows down, turning into the cobblestone driveway. His driver-side window rolls down and he waves a card in front of the scanner, and a set of massive black iron gates slowly begins to swing open.

"Wait, Kitty lives here?" I ask him, leaning forward in my seat.

"Yes, her apartments are on the first floor," he says matter-of-factly.

He pulls up to the front of the building and comes to a stop. By the time he steps out of the car and opens my door for me, I'm dying to explore the place, and I practically leap out into the driveway.

This building must be hundreds of years old - it looks like a spooky old museum, from the outside, at least. I can't wait to see inside.

I turn around to thank the driver, but he's already back in the car, pulling out of the driveway like he can't get away fast enough.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I retrieve it to read the message.

Kitty: The front door's unlocked. Just walk up the staircase and turn left - go through the gold art deco doors. I'd come out and get you but I'm still in the bath ;D

Ok, sounds simple enough.

The front door is simply huge - at least ten feet tall, carved from some rich dark wood with a marble arch overhead - and it swings open easily with the lightest touch, inviting me in.

I step into a grandiose lobby, rivalling that of even the poshest hotel. The entire interior is wrought from gleaming white stone, and an elegant staircase stretches up before me. There is a French Rococo-style armchair and chaise longue (upholstered in crisp ivory velvet in keeping with the "all white" theme) to one side of the staircase, and a narrow console to the other side, with a vase filled with sweetly-perfumed white lilies atop it.

Following Kitty's instructions, I make my way up the stairs, then turn left at the landing.

This place is so ridiculously huge. I hope I don't get lost.