The Check Your Luck Omnibus by KS Augustin

Author:KS Augustin [Augustin, KS]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Urban Fantasy, Asia, Malaysia, Singapore, Ghosts, Demons, Asian Mythology, Sorceror, Multicultural, Food
Publisher: Challis Tower
Published: 2016-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

We walked to Shariff’s place. I should have guessed his home would be within a stone’s throw of Orchard. It ended up being within a low-rise complex that, in that particular neighbourhood, meant mountains of money, coupled with extreme exclusivity.

It was almost midnight by the time we got there, but the flight of stone steps that led up to the complex’s entrance was lit on each tread with a narrow strip that softly glowed. At the top of the stairs was a guardhouse, inhabited by a serious-looking mature-aged man in a white and navy blue uniform. Sheriff waved to him and the high wire gate unlocked with a click.

We walked through and, suddenly, I found myself in a serene wonderland. The sounds of traffic from one of the busiest precincts in the world became instantly muted, shielded from the complex’s residents by a tall spreading stand of bamboo that followed the front fence line. In front of me, I saw a pool and heard the sound of rippling water.

Shariff took the right fork around the pool, along a meandering pathway that bisected the distance from the water to the gate of what appeared to be a three-storey townhouse. There was a cosy square of space between the waist-high privacy panels and the townhouse door, customised to the tastes of the different residents. In one such space, I saw a patch of lawn; in another, a Zen-type sand garden. The waterfall sounds I had heard were divisions in the pool, following the gentle path of the hillside slope. At the divisions, the pool edges tucked in, the vacant spaces given over to clumps of tall reedy plants. It gave each section of water a degree of privacy.

We stopped about two-thirds of the way along the complex. The sound of traffic was a distant memory. Shariff ushered me through the gate before him. I didn’t see him pull out any keys and it appeared that he didn’t need any. Embedded in the solid timber door was a keypad. With a smile, my young host punched out a six-digit code and turned the door handle.

He had obviously left some lights on before leaving for the art gallery, because a trio of standing lamps cast pools of warmth across low-slung leather furniture, partially illuminating the long counter of the kitchen near the back of the ground floor.

“Would you like a coffee?” he asked.

I shook my head. “One cup and I’ll be up all night.” A yawn escaped me, despite my best efforts. “I’m sorry, the day seems to have caught up with me.”

“Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.”

The bedroom was beyond the kitchen, in its own private rectangle of space that encompassed bed, bathroom and even a small antechamber that had been turned into a dressing room.

“There’s a robe in the cupboard.”

We stood facing other and it was the strangest feeling. As much as there appeared to be a force pulling us together, there was one pushing us apart. I was keenly aware that I was years older than him, and wondered if he would mind.

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