The Truth About The Many Worlds Of Printed Pages

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As they climbed in the car followed by the driver who closed Siena's door, James, noticing how she drew away from him and suddenly looked strangely shy and distant again in the closed quarters of the backseat where it was just the two of them, couldn't resist saying, "Well, take us home, Jake."

He grinned into the rearview mirror where he caught Jake's bemused, conspiratorial smile, then chuckled when he looked at his blonde 'partner', catching her scrunching her white, freckle-covered nose at the idea of the two of them sharing a home.

As Jake drove them through the much less crowded roads than those of the city's centre, flanked by people moving along the pavements on their early evening stroll through quaint boutiques and cafés, he tried to push all the fascinating things they had just learned about the Society away for later, and focus on trying to understand Siena's behaviour. They needed to know each other well, if they were to accept this incredible quest, together, as a team...

He just came to a conclusion that she must have had a bad experience with men and resolved to prove to her that they were not all the same and whatever had happened to her before, she could trust him, when the car pulled to a curb in front of another Victorian house, this one a little smaller and not quite as imposing as the Society's Headquarters.

Jake opened Siena's door and carried her luggage towards a low wrought iron gate opening to a short, tiled path which led to the house's white front door embellished with several colourful stained-glass panes, while James slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed them.

He reached the three steps connecting the path to the door which Siena had already mounted, her eyes almost at level with his when she turned to him now, while Jake fumbled with a set of keys and unlocked the door for them.

Why did she affect him so? He could feel his pulse quicken as her eyes, the warmest and most intriguing pair of golden-brown irises he had ever seen, met his, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. He had been in several relationships, some longer and happier than others, but had never fallen for a woman's charm this fast...

He shook his head to clear it the moment she looked away, breaking the spell she had held him under, and entered the house's gloomy interior, the air within already darkened by the approaching evening. It was getting late; they both had a very long day. Only the first of many, apparently.

Jake didn't enter. He simply informed them that the downstairs flat was entirely at their disposal, supplied with food sufficient for at least a couple weeks, and anything else they might need, before he dropped the keys into Siena's palm and handed an envelope, containing useful information and instructions, to James.

He was off then, reminding them that his number was among those they would find in their new phones and they should not hesitate to call whenever they needed his services, before he closed the front door behind him, leaving them in the great hall filled with a wan, colourful light streaming in through the stained glass panes set in two doors facing one another across the large room.

James and Siena exchanged an uncertain look before they turned slowly around, noticing a sweeping white staircase leading toward the upper floors, wondering what was upstairs.

"Let us see the flat," Siena proposed, tearing her eyes off the staircase and finding another-- simple five steps leading towards the stained glass door at the far end of the hall.

"Wow," Siena muttered as they entered the garden flat. She removed her shoes and dropped her bags by the door, then rushed towards yet another door, glass, floor-to-ceiling sliding door substituting the entire back wall of the flat.

James followed her example and left his shoes and luggage next to Siena's before he walked after her, meeting her by the door she had already slid open, letting in the elabourate scent of the lush garden spreading beyond, and the wide blue-green river flowing languidly at its far end.