It's official! I have discovered Heaven.

Not long after informing me that I'd lost an entire day of my life, Ransford was summoned away by Leopold, telling him that Alaric wanted to see him. Since the butler was kind enough to take my cup, I fled to my rooms, and when the first door temporarily belonging to me appeared on my right, I threw it open and charged inside. I have no idea what my plan was, but it doesn't matter because I forgot everything but my name when I stepped into Wonderland.

It is a small drawing room with a lovely fireplace of its own. At first, I was taken aback by the room's startling contrast to so many of the others I've seen so far. The entire place is glittering in gold, white and yellow. I've never been too fond of the Rococo art period, as it tended to be garish and frivolous, and the whimsical playfulness was often taken a tad too far. Though this room definitely falls in that category, it was done rather tastefully and is not too much of an eyesore. It is actually quite pleasing now that I'm used to it.

I find the atmosphere here relaxing and filled with light and life, but that is not why I am in Heaven. The bookcase is loaded with novels! There are so many of my favourite writers living side-by-side on these shelves. James Patterson, Dean Koontz, Martha Grimes, and that is only one of many shelves. I've only scanned the others, and honestly, I could live in here! There are books for any and every mood, belonging to virtually every genre under the sun... and there's a lot of sun in here.

Now, if I were told that I lost a day because I got stuck in here, unable to step away from all these wonderful stories, I would've believed that and swallowed the pill without water. Sleeping, on the other hand, is not something I do for prolonged periods unless I'm deathly ill.

I do not lounge in bed over weekends or take naps. As far as I'm concerned, sleeping is a necessary chore that needs to be done to give the body rest and rejuvenate the mind. That's it.

Ransford said something about altitudes and temperature changes that I'm not used to the air here and whatnot, which all sounded plausible and probably made sense, but I'm still struggling to wrap my mind around it. He assured me that many guests and newcomers to the island, and especially the manor, often struggle to wake up the first day or two.

Well, I'm awake now, and I've got a juicy book - Martha Grimes' I'm the Last Running Footman - in my hands, and I'm never leaving this room again!

The rain has stopped, and after I tied back all the yellow curtains draped from gilded railings, the sun is shining inside brightly and warmly. There are no hovering shadows and dimly lit corners to freak me out, and when I talked to myself, Ransford didn't suddenly appear. 

That's probably not one of the perks... I rather like Ransford.

It is so lovely and warm in here I do not even need to light the fire in the hearth, but I would like some coffee, though. Coffee and cake would make all of this extra perfect. If I knew how to summon Leopold, I would definitely ask him to bring a mug full of heaven, but so far, my telepathic powers are even more non-existent than I knew they were. I have no supernatural qualities of any kind, not even a whisper. Well, I don't believe in those anyway.

Before he left to go see his brother, Ransford assured me that he would teach me how to use the coffee machine as soon as he could. He said it in a rather odd way, though. His lips tweaked in a mischievous grin, and he was leering at me from under long, drooping eyelashes.

I'm not entirely sure he was talking about the coffee machine at the time; his words were along the lines of, "When the first opportunity makes itself available, I'll be delighted to teach you all you wish to learn."

I clap a hand over my mouth when a giddy giggle bursts from my lips. What on Earth?! I'm acting like a schoolgirl with a crush! At least, I think so... I've never had a crush before.

A sudden, unrequested memory of Alaric leaning into me, his breath whispering against my skin, turning my brain to mush, has me slamming my book shut and jumping to my feet.

"I'm sorry, Ms Grimes, I'll spend more time with Richard Jury and Melrose Plant in a minute," I apologise to the book lying on the seat. "I'm simply too much of an idiot right now to investigate the murder with my two favourite characters in the world of detective novels."

Reaching behind my head, I pull the elastic band from my hair, roughly smooth all the rampant ringlets together and retie them. That's better. No, it's not! Alaric is still gazing into my eyes in a decidedly predatory way, making me feel like his willing prey.

"Seriously! You're being ridiculous! The guy acted like we were staring in a Korean drama!"

Chiding myself for my immaturity, I stride over the delicate rugs depicting women on swings and flowery men flirting with milkmaids to where a rather pretty piano is spending its life unused. Though quite old, the white, wooden upright is not nearly as old as the other furniture in this room. It fits the décor even if it wasn't created in the early 18th century, like almost all the other items in this room.

The front and legs of the piano are carved in a beautiful, leafy grapevine design, the wood grain pleasantly visible through the chalky paint. I absently lift the lid and am about to test the keys when there's a gentle knock on the door. I answer with a startled, "Yes?!" hurrying over to open it, but stop when Leopold enters before I reach it. He is carrying a silver tray, which he places on one of the dainty coffee tables set among the comfortable chairs.

"I thought you might like some coffee, Miss," he says the most beautiful words ever spoken, and I realise that if I were going to be seduced or fall in love, it would be Leopold.

Oh, my word! My ESP worked!

"Oh, thank you, Leopold. This is wonderful!"

"You're most welcome, Miss. Dinner will be served at 6:30 p.m. if that is suitable?"

Dinner?! I had breakfast only a couple of hours ago.

"Yes, that would be fine, thank you. What time is it now?" I have yet to charge my phone, but I do not want to go into the office and fetch my charger because... well, just because... Besides, I think Ransford is in there with Alaric right now... probably. 

No, I'm not going to check!

"It is 3 p.m. now, Miss."

"Oh, my soul! I slept nearly two whole days?!" I'm appalled and shocked and horrified, and quite a few other words along that line as well. "How is that possible?" Will I ever sleep again? Surely, I've slept enough to last me for the rest of the year.

"We did not want to disturb your rest, Miss; you appeared to be exhausted."

Oh, so they checked in on me and didn't just leave me to live or die without caring one way or the other. That's nice.

"Apparently..." Well, it's not his fault, and he brought me coffee I can smell from here and is that... cake?! I love cake! "Thank you again, Leopold; this is going to be lovely."

"Very well, Miss; let me know if you need anything else."

"How?" I finally think to ask. "How do I let you know?"

"I will find you, Miss," and with that, he bows and leaves the room, closing the door behind him while I stand like a statue, blinking at the gilded white door covered in carvings of cherubs.

"Uhm..."

Well, if it's any consolation, Leopold didn't burst into flames or disintegrate into dust when he stepped into the sparkling sunlight.

There's no point in breaking my head over this now, but I wonder if I mentioned out loud that I was craving coffee... or that I was dreaming of a piece of creamy cake and was somehow overheard by all the bugs planted in the room. I'm pretty sure that the only vocal conversation I had with myself since I came into the drawing room was about the story of Sleeping Beauty, probably originating in this mansion and about why all the little cherubs along the cornices and around the mirrors seem to be male and how unhygienic it would be to have little boy babies floating around without nappies. I think the term sprinkler system did pop up in that discussion.

I lift the book from my seat and place it on a small table next to the chair, well out of the way of me and the coffee and cake I'm about to devour, letting crumbs and drops fly all over the place... my usual style.

With the first bite of the delectable cream-filled chocolate cake melting in my mouth, I could convince myself that I'd been daydreaming about this very cake. It's not true, but who cares? I didn't specify the cake when I sat here wishing for coffee and cake. I envisioned it, and it appeared.

I should test my new theory and dream up something wholly ridiculous but yummy for dinner and see if it magically appears.

Yes, I've lost my mind! I know. 

Most people have tea around three in the afternoon. I've made no secret in my communications with Alaric... or Diarmuid that I'm a coffee lover. The cake is a coincidence. I know all of that, but I'm starting to like imagining less logical explanations for things.

"I'll take that," Liam says when the joys brought by a sugar rush and a caffeine fix are long gone. I've spent a few chapters hanging out with Richard and Melrose and finally decided to make my way down the stairs to take my dirty dishes to the kitchen and go to the office to charge my phone.  Coming up from the foyer, Liam met me near the top of the stairs.

I don't argue with him because I was starting to wobble and panic, unable to see my feet with the tray in the way. I was beginning to have stunning visions of rolling down the stairs butt-over-head with the tray flying one way and the delicate crockery the other.

"Thank you," I say wisely and let him take the load from me so I can walk the stairs like a pro.

"You could've just left it where you had it; it would've been collected," he tells me as I follow him down the stairs and to the kitchen, not really knowing why since I no longer have anything to do there. I don't know if I could ever get used to the idea of just leaving my dishes anywhere and hoping they'll find their own way to the kitchen. I'm not used to having servants. Last night, I was simply too tired and thought I would take them down in the morning, and this morning, I was going to bring them with me when I was done getting ready, but I had no idea where I was going.

The kitchen has changed a bit since the last time I was in here. There are some signs of vegetables having been prepared on the scrubbed surface of the large work table, those signs being bowls of leaves and peels. Everything is still spotless.

The fragrance from earlier is now enhanced by a myriad of other wonderful aromas added to it. Liam catches me trying to bond with the coffee machine, lovingly stroking a finger over the steel and enamel contours, whispering to it about all the fun we will have in the future. In my defence, I did not see him return from the scullery.

"Do you know how to use it, or do you want me to show you?" he asks, and I almost tell him not to bother because  Ransford will be showing me, but I realise in time how odd that would sound. Besides, I'm not sure what exactly Ransford plans to show me, and I really want to know how to work this machine. 

From the way Liam is looking at me, I can tell that I would definitely only be learning coffee-making skills from him right now. Since meeting him yesterday... uhm... on Thursday evening, he has not even once tried to make me giggle like a love-sick teenager or pass out due to a lack of oxygen. Now, too, he is looking at me in an honest, direct way, as if the only thing on his mind is the coffee machine and how to use it.

I'm not complaining, I swear!

"Oh, yes, please show me... if you have the time?"

"Of course."

I follow his instructions with rapt attention while he teaches me how to grind the beans in the grinder and up to what level to fill the container with the grounds, and by the time he is showing me how to froth the milk, I'm an expert. Well, probably not, because I make another cup while he supervises, and he has to save me from myself at least twice because first, I let it drip too long, which he says will give it a bitter taste and then I almost steam all the milk out of the small stainless steel jug and nearly burn my hand.

Well, I have no problem with practising until I get it perfect, and I'm happy and all smiles while we sip our coffee, and he praises me for being a good student. I'm once again in heaven, I'm drinking delicious coffee, and  I have my new best friend right here next to me! 

I mean the coffee machine, not Liam.

Though he's friendly and rather kind, Liam has a seriousness about him that gives him a mysterious quality I find rather unnerving.

"I'm glad to see that you are feeling better," he smiles, taking our empty cups and walking into the scullery to pop them into the dishwasher, which, like all the other modern appliances, looks like an alien mother ship in the kitchen. Though much more modern than any of the rooms I've seen to date, the kitchen still reminds me of eras gone by.

"Better?" I ask, puzzled by his observation.

"I heard you weren't feeling well yesterday."

Well, that would be one way of putting it.

"Oh! I suppose that is true in a way. I seem to have slept for almost two days, so I probably wasn't feeling well."

"And you're feeling fine now?" he asks, and there is that unnerving quality now in overdrive.

"Yes, barring any more night terrors and disturbing dreams, I should be fine now, thank you."

"What?" he narrows his eyes, studying my face, and I'm suddenly very much reminded that he is indeed a Slatherty, as he now has the same intense look in his eyes his brothers have perfected to an art form. He looks as if he is about to consume me. I'm pretty sure he's not, though.

"It's nothing," I assure him. "I sometimes have bad dreams and sleep paralysis. It rarely happens. It probably happened on Thursday night because I was overly tired and the altitude and difference in temperature and air and... things like that." Ransford explained it so much better earlier; I just sound like I'm regurgitating garbage.

"What did you dream?" Liam asks, gently guiding me from the kitchen into the library, which is now entirely empty of other people. I checked.

"Really?" I say, surprised to be asked such a question.

"Yes," Liam says, waiting for me to sit on one of the soft pillow chairs before moving to the settee near me and sitting down on one end of it. "I'm a... uhm... neuroscientist," he surprises me. "I'm interested in anything involving the brain... even dreams. Please," he waves a hand at me, prompting me to speak.

"Well..." I don't really want to remember the dream; the bits that pop into my mind still scare me. Sitting in this room covered in autumn colours with a comforting fire burning in the fireplace and warm light spilling from ancient sconces, I'm not afraid, and when I look into Liam's encouraging eyes, I hear the words spilling unchecked from my lips.

I tell him about the girl and the baby and how she sniffed me, purring like a cat. It is as if saying these words out loud brings more pieces of the dream together and more words to my lips.

"She bit me," I say, surprised to discover that frightening detail. "It hurt, but I couldn't cry out, and then I didn't feel much. I just heard her make suckling noises, and her lips were so incredibly soft and cool against my burning skin. The fear left me, and I felt like I was floating away further and further. 

"As if I was hovering near the ceiling, I could see myself lying in the bed with her leaning over me, her face buried in my neck... and the baby was lying on the bed near me. It was all in such sharp focus as if I didn't need my glasses anymore. Then, the edges of my vision started to fade to black, the darkness spreading until I could barely see anything. Suddenly, there was a voice."

"Whose voice?" Liam asks, and I struggle to read the stricken look on his face as I stare into his eyes. The aquamarine of his irises is virtually swallowed by the black of his pupils now, and I have never seen eyes more beautiful. If I look close enough, I'm sure I'll see eternity reflected in their depths.

"I don't know, it was a dream."

"Sometimes people and voices we know sneak into our dreams," he tells me, but no matter how deeply I stare into his beautiful eyes, I have no more details about the voice.

"I don't know. The voice shouted only one word: 'No.' That was not enough to go on. I only know that it belonged to a man."

"What happened then?"

"The sucking noises stopped, and the hissing started, like an angry cat spitting... and then... nothing... That's all. I woke up today."

"That... is quite a dream," Liam says, dropping his head to study his feet, his hands joining between his knees. "Would you like me to give you something to help you sleep better?"

"I slept really well, thank you," I laugh. Two days do not constitute a lack of sleep. "Unless your medicine could prevent me from dreaming about something as ridiculous as vampires... or whatever that was."

"Yes," Liam chuckles humourlessly, peering almost shyly at me from under his eyelashes. "I meant to prevent bad dreams and night terrors or paralysis."

"I don't know..." I rarely use medicine. I seldom even take a headache tablet. "I doubt it will happen again." 

The only recurring dreams I usually have involve me running around on this island. Whispered names and glimpsed events. Nothing concrete or recognizable. Those dreams have never scared me, and I was rather hoping to have them again, perhaps in more detail, now that I'm here. I do not tell Liam Slatherty that, of course.

"I'll give you something, and you can take it if you ever feel that you need it."

"Thank you." I don't know how I'm going to take medication when I'm in the middle of having sleep paralysis, but if it does happen again, I'll take it as soon as I come out of it to prevent it from happening again. It will probably be good to have something around just in case I need it.

"You're welcome," he says, sitting back, resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, the sombre concentration leaving his handsome face as he relaxes against the cushions. "So, aside from that, how are you settling in so far?"

'Well," I smile. "I have maps now, and I was given cake, which always makes me happy, and a kind man patiently showed me how to use the coffee machine. I'd say I'm settling in rather well, thank you."

Liam smiles warmly at me and seems about to say something when Ransford walks past my chair and drops himself onto the other end of the two-seater settee. "I thought I was going to show you how to work that machine! We had a date and everything," he says sulkily, but his grin negates his tone.

"Oh! There goes my plan to pretend that I didn't know yet and then dazzle you with how fast I learn to master the machine."

"No problem, we can find other ways for you to dazzle me," he says, levelling those disturbing grey eyes of his on me. "Would you like to learn the proper way to use a... sandwich... press?" he grins, and from the way in which he says the words, I'm really not sure if a sandwich press is what I used to think it was. Blushing, I glance at Liam, and the look he is giving his brother tells me that he does not think the activity Ransford has in mind involves bread either.

"Oh, I do love a good toasted sandwich," I laugh nervously, trying to bring the conversation back onto the right track, but I might have lost the road completely because Ransford raises an eyebrow, running his alarming eyes over my face, chuckling softly.

I glance away from those mesmerizing eyes and am surprised to see Liam gazing at me with a somewhat melancholic expression as if he is now the one recalling a disturbing dream. He catches me looking at him with wide, startled eyes, and his expression lightens into a gentle smile.

Seeing the two men so close together, the contrast between them is startling. Liam is as colourful as Ransford is ethereal, his hair catching the light in an auburn glow, whereas his brother's glistens with a silvery sheen where the light touches it, but it is their eyes that fascinate me the most. Liam's eyes are as stormy and filled with emotions as the ocean, their colour calls to mind, while Ransford's grey eyes are as tranquil and undisturbed as the surface of a deep pond, reflecting the rays of the moon.

Intriguing.

"Well," I say, getting to my feet before I make a fool of myself by saying any of that out loud. I don't think I did, but the way they're both just silently looking at me makes me wonder if my thought waves were too loud. Perhaps they could read it in my eyes. "Excuse me, I need to find my cell phone charger."

I might be walking very fast, but I am definitely not running away. Okay, fine, yes, I am, and I'm not even entirely sure why. Separately, being in the presence of either of those two brothers is rather pleasant in two very different ways, but when they are together, their presence becomes too overwhelming, setting all my nerve endings on fire.

At the landing, I take a deep breath and run up the branch of steps that will take me to the office. I'm relieved when I find the door open and the room empty. I don't think I would've had the courage to enter if the door was closed, even though this is my office too now, and I have every right to be in here. In fact, I'm expected to spend some time here.

My desk has a shallow shelf under the desktop, and I find my laptop bag stored there and pull it out to extract all my work items. First of all, I take the charger and plug it into my phone and the multi-plug provided for all my equipment. I brought the phone with me for that purpose when I decided to return the tray to the kitchen.

While it charges, I set my laptop up on the surface, attaching it to the extra screen, keyboard and mouse already waiting there. It is the perfect setup, very modern and comfortable, and obscene when housed by such a beautiful mahogany desk I'm not quite able to date yet. I wait for my laptop to boot up, wondering where I would find the Wi-Fi password.

Oh, dear! They do have Wi-Fi, don't they?!

Rising to see if I can find a modem or a signal booster in the room, I wander to the windows next to the side of my desk and stop, mesmerized. Through the leaves, I can see that the sun is setting in an emotional display of pink and blue and orange, its dying rays reflected beautifully by all the clouds. I believe that I could see this every day for the rest of my life and never get used to it or sick of its beauty.

Wondering what time it is, I sit at my desk and turn on my phone. It is 18:12. Almost time for dinner. I'm surprised to find a couple of messages waiting for me. One is a text from my mentor, Professor Edward Griffith, wanting to know if I've arrived safely and am settling in well and wishing me the best of luck with the wonderful placement I managed to find.

The other two are voicemail notifications, letting me know that Billy Doyle called yesterday and earlier today and would try again later unless I called him first. I'm relieved that he made it home safely after dropping me off. The existence of the messages baffle me until I remember that when he picked me up at the ferry, I mentioned how relieved I was that the harbour wasn't bustling because I wasn't sure how to find him. He then assured me that he'd been given my cell phone number in case that happened.

I was going to ask Alaric what kind of transport is available to me and ring Billy for a favour if there's no bicycle or car I could use. I want to sort out my own form of transport as soon as possible to give me independence and prevent me from becoming a burden to others.

Clicking on the number in the notification, I listen to the ringtone and am a little flustered when Billy answers the phone rather quickly.

"Howya, Aubrey?!"

"Hello, Billy, this is Aubrey," I say, unable to stop myself even though he just said my name. I slap my forehead, glad that he cannot see how embarrassed I am right now. "I'm sorry, my phone was quite dead; I only just got your messages."

"Ah, that's what happened?!" he says, sounding relieved. "No problem. I was just checking in to see if ye're settling in alright or needed anything."

I am truly touched to hear that. Billy did strike me as a warm and caring kind of guy, and I enjoyed the trip with him until the storm started building and we reached the scary part of the road.

"That's very kind of you, thank you. I'm quite well." The 'now that I'm awake' part of my story is implied.

"Do ye work tomorrow?" Billy asks, and I wonder where he is because it is pretty noisy in the background. It sounds like he is moving around, and then a door closes, drowning the noise to a low hum.

"No, I was told that I can keep my own hours."

"That's grand! So, would ye like to have din... lunch with me, then? I'll swing by and pick ye up."

"Lunch?" I repeat, pleasantly surprised but also rather startled by the invitation. I did not expect it at all.

"Aye, I would've said dinner, but then ye might have to spend the night in the village... which I could arrange for ye whenever ye want to do that."

"Thank you, lunch will be lovely. I think I should get an early start on Monday, so staying in the village tomorrow night might not be practical." If I have to come back on Monday morning, it could really put Billy out. I believe that he has a job to get to as well.

"Grand!" he exclaims, sounding happy that I accepted his invitation. "I'll pick ye up around 12?"

"That will be splendid, thank you!"

We chat for a few more minutes about the weather and the lack of rain expected tomorrow, and then we say goodbye. I sit back in my chair, marvelling at how, two days ago, Professor Griffith had been the only man in my life, and he is older than my grandfather would've been if he were still alive.

Now, I'm suddenly up to my armpits in rather desirable men, three of whom might be dangerous and one filled with fresh air and sunshine.

I'm surprised to find that I, the reclusive introvert, unable to stand human company for longer than a few minutes at a time, am looking forward to having lunch with Billy tomorrow.

~~~