Ghosts in the Snow by Tamara Siler Jones

Author:Tamara Siler Jones [Jones, Tamara Siler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Murder, Mystery & Detective, Fantasy fiction, General, Fantasy, Ghost stories, Suspense, Suspense fiction, Ghosts, Fiction
ISBN: 9780553587098
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2004-10-25T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

11

Dien burst into Dubric’s office without knocking. His nose bled freely, one eye had swollen shut, and his puffy lip had split completely open. Otlee gasped, looking up from the witness chair. Dien barely paused before saying, “We’ve had an incident in the servants’ wing. I’ve got three men down, one is unconscious. Every woman in the place is screaming. He got away from us, sir.”

“Son of a buck!” Dubric snarled as he stood and slammed his fists on his desk. “You had four men. Where in the seven hells did he go?”

Dien wiped at the blood on his face and looked at it, astounded. “The mouthy one, Darli or some such, told him the bodies had been taken to the phy—”

Dubric shoved past him and ran to the hall.

* * *

Dubric burst through the physicians’ door to find Halld clinging to a rack of shelving and struggling to stand. Muttering a low curse, Dien skidded to a stop beside Dubric. Two bodies lay on the examination tables. They were naked and partly covered by sheets; their backs had been opened and slashed. The third victim was gone, with only a smear of blood remaining on her table.

“He wouldn’t listen,” Halld said as his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor again. He wiped his hand across his mouth and shook his head as if to clear his vision. “I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.” He climbed up the shelving again and rolls of bandages tumbled onto the floor.

Dubric screamed a curse. He turned away and stomped back through the door, snarling, “I don’t give a peg who he is! He can’t steal my only Goddess-cursed witness!”

* * *

Nella believed for a moment she was floating. The ceiling above her had been painted frothy blue and white to resemble clouds, and whatever she lay upon was soft and comfortable. Her face felt cool and clean. She blinked, and with dizzying surreal clarity realized she lay in a finely furnished room she had never seen before.

Beyond the door, Dubric stared out of a tall sunny window with his hands clasped behind him, while Risley sat beside her on the bed with a cool rag in his hand. Worry left his eyes in an instant, replaced with relief, as he lifted her into his arms.

The back of her head throbbed mercilessly, but in his embrace she felt safe.

At the sound of her movement, Dubric turned and entered the bedchamber. He looked very tired. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

“No,” Risley said, his voice flat and commanding. “She needs to rest.”

Where am I? she thought. Is this a dream? Risley held her closer, gently cradling her throbbing head. He was warm. Wonderfully warm. She sighed and relaxed against him.

Dubric’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “I have to speak with her. She is the only real witness I have.”

Nella’s brow furrowed as her mind began to clear. Witness? I didn’t die? But he had a knife. And Plien.

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