By the time Nile caught up, Dom was already inside, the sliding glass door left slightly ajar. Taking one last glance at the backyard, confident the dogs would be fine, he followed her in.
“Knock, knock! Anybody home?” he called, stepping into the family room and taking in the decor.
He stepped into what appeared to be a modest family room. The Japanese tropical theme continued inside, flowing seamlessly from the yard. The floor was a satin white marble, and the walls were adorned with rice paper scrolls and delicate paintings. A fireplace sat to one side of the room, and directly opposite was a wall displaying an impressive collection of Asian weapons - not all of them Japanese, he noted.
With Dom nowhere in sight, Nile decided to give himself a tour. He wandered toward the wall of weapons, catching sight of a small desk partially hidden by a bamboo partition painted with tigers and intricate calligraphy. Naturally, his eyes zeroed in on the computer sitting there.
Unable to resist, Nile strolled over and checked the system’s specs. In moments, he had the system window open and was whistling appreciatively at what he found.
“Nice machine you’ve got here, Mr. DuMonte. Very nice indeed.”
After satisfying his curiosity, he closed the window, mumbling to himself, “High-end security for the garden, top-tier tech inside... Your dad’s got style, Dom.”
Wondering what happened to Dom and where she had disappeared to, Nile got up and went to explore the house in search of her. Maybe she was taking care of Charlie.
He attempted to be quiet for fear of waking up her dad, Mr. DuMonte, but his inability to locate the light switches coupled with his lack of familiarity with the common day obstacles of the house left him bumping his shins and cursing up a muted storm despite his best intentions.
Nile kept his footfalls as light as he could, though the house seemed determined to trip him up at every turn. Between the furniture, his lack of a flashlight, and the labyrinthine layout, it was like navigating a live obstacle course designed to ambush him. He hadn’t meant to make a ruckus - just quietly find Dom. He rubbed his shin from yet another collision with a side table and sighed.
After a short circuit of the lower part of the house, he found Charlie in the kitchen with a bowl of food and water. She glanced up at him and then dismissed him out of hand. “You haven’t seen Dom, now have you, Charlie?”
She flicked her tail at him with the disdain only a cat could muster before returning to her meal. “Fine, don’t help me,” he whispered, smirking at the feline who ignored him entirely.
He decided to push his luck and try upstairs. Dom had to be around here somewhere.
As he crept up the short flight of stairs, he paused at a family beach photo: Dom as a child, sitting on her father’s shoulders, her mother leaning against him with a serene smile. Dom had to be only 8 or so in the photo, he thought.
Nile recalled the day he’d taken that picture, back when he was just discovering the joys - and blunders - of photography. It was his first attempt, a bit crooked, but they’d loved it anyway. He felt a pang of nostalgia and something else, something that had no name but made his chest feel tight.
Nile sighed in remembrance and smiled a little sadly as he continued up the stairs to the second story.
When he reached the top floor, the soft patter of water reached his ears. His curiosity piqued, Nile followed it, noticing the warm glow from under the bathroom door and, faintly, Dom’s quiet humming as she softly sang to herself. He had never before realized how nice a voice she had. He made up his mind to tell her so. Maybe sometime when it would most embarrass her.
He chuckled softly to himself and reaching the door he noticed that she had failed to fully close it. The tiniest sliver of space revealed the steam-filled room beyond. He knew he should turn back - probably. But, hormonal curiosity -and a whisper of something else- rooted him in place, overcoming his basic sense of self-preservation and chivalric nature.
He carefully peered through the crack into the steamy interior of the bathroom. Mildly frustrated by the slight view, he accidentally bumped into the door causing it to widen just enough for him to be able to make out the softly-dim silhouette of Dom’s form through the steam-filled air and the fogged glass shower door.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Shadows and light played across her form, and Nile felt a heat rise to his face, something unfamiliar and disorienting. He’d always seen Dom as a friend, a sister even, but now... that thought felt as transparent as the steam curling around her.
His gaze lingered, transfixed -imagining the details he couldn’t see- until her hand reached out, grasping the shower door’s edge, the shower suddenly falling silent. Panic shot through him - his brain screamed at him to leave, to retreat to the safety of downstairs.
But he stumbled, clumsily stepping back over a small bench, nearly losing his balance as his hand slapped against the wall for support. He barely caught the bench’s pillow before it hit the ground, his heart racing like he’d just sprinted a marathon. He ducked low, safely out of view, and without a second thought, he beat a hasty retreat before she caught him.
He practically flew, stumbling down the stairs as quietly as he could manage, every creak sounding like a gunshot. At the bottom, he nearly collided with Charlie again, who glared at him as if she knew everything.
Within moments he was back in the main entryway at the front door of the house. Taking calming breaths, his adrenaline pumping, he walked across to the small living room, sort of a little cousin to the larger family room where he’d first entered the house. Flicking on a nearby light, he was able to see that the living room walls were filled with shelves upon shelves of books.
Nile shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he looked around the room. Mr. DuMonte had taste, there was no denying that. The collection here wasn’t just any library - it was a curated experience, each title a testament to a lifetime of exploration and quiet rebellion against the digital takeover. Nile might’ve been a tech enthusiast, sure, but when it came to books, there was something irreplaceable about the feel of actual pages beneath his fingertips. E-readers couldn’t replicate the soft weight, the earthy smell, or that tactile connection to a world of ink and paper.
Even though he owned a couple of the latest e-reader gadgets, Nile often found himself walking the aisles of used and new bookstores, touching a cover here, perusing a title there.
It was almost meditative for him, the way a real book slowed time down. He felt a pang of regret for the disappearing bookstores, the empty shells of once-bustling libraries. Soon, places like this - rich, private collections hidden in personal sanctuaries, or museums- would be the last holdouts against a paperless future.
He scanned the titles on the shelves, his gaze dancing over names that stirred up memories and admiration alike. Sci-Fi heavyweights: Asimov, Heinlein, E.E. “Doc” Smith. Fantasy epics, Tolkien’s Middle-Earth and Goldman’s The Princess Bride, tucked right between Mr. King’s entire horror-filled catalogue. He even spotted a worn row of Shakespeare’s works, titles he knew well enough by heart. And there, on a lower shelf, was Grimm’s Fairy Tales, a dark invitation to stories that he remembered as a kid were very haunting, and nothing like the Disney adaptations.
"Whoa," he whispered, eyebrows lifting as he noticed another shelf tucked subtly into the shadows. Hidden among the classic literature was a treasure trove of pristine comic books, and mangas, each one sealed in a plastic sleeve. First editions. The collection was extensive. Nile whistled low, nodding in respect. Batman, X-Men, Spider-Man, Witchblade, Gen 13, Wildcats, Akira, Berserk, Death Note, and Sailor Moon, among many others - all of them immortalized here, it was legendary.
Now, that’s class, Nile thought in appreciation. Nile gave a slight bow of his head in respect and let out a low whistle before he moved on.
Of course, there were also included in the library various historical works and mythological, some philosophical books, and even some scientific and mathematical tomes.
It was the kind of collection that would take him a lifetime to finish, and he had a sudden urge to just dive in, to read his way through the shelves and see where they led him. So, he pulled a book from a nearby shelf at random, an old volume bound in soft leather, and settled onto the worn leather couch, reclining into its embrace.
If Dom walked in right now, she’d find him looking as innocent as a saint. Not that she’d believe it - she always claimed she could sniff out his lies like a bloodhound. Not that he’d ever admit she might be right, despite her uncanny success rate -he still chose to disbelieve her and instead place his trust, however misguided, in his ability at subterfuge.
He glanced at the book’s cover and read the title, A Bridge Across Forever by Richard Bach. He remembered something about a seagull story he’d read by the same author as a kid - an odd mix of deep philosophy and whimsy, a bit like his own wandering thoughts.
But before he could get lost in the story he held, something caught his eye - a soft glint of red at the edge of his vision. Intrigued, he glanced over and noticed a low coffee table dominating the center of the room, its surface an intricate display that he could swear hadn’t been there a moment ago. A miniature bonsai tree rose gracefully from a bed of white sand, and beside it lay a tiny wooden rake, crafted to comb the delicate grains.
He walked over to it and sat down on one of the cushions by the table, the book he had been about to read lying forgotten on the arm of the couch, his attention instead fixed on the centerpiece. He was intrigued by the sheer detail of it.
The arrangement was exquisite, more a scene in miniature than a simple decoration. A jade-green dragon, sculpted with unbelievable detail, coiled around the bonsai’s base, ruby eyes gleaming as it gazed down at a koi pond nestled in the sand. Tiny ceramic butterflies hovered mid-dance above the water, frozen in a delicate spiral, while carefully arranged moss suggested a lush, miniature landscape.
It was… peaceful. Too peaceful. His eyelids grew heavy, his thoughts quieting as he drifted in the tranquil, enchanted silence. Just as his mind slipped into sleep, he caught a last, fleeting glimpse of the dragon’s face peering down at him, and for a split second, he could’ve sworn it winked.