Murdered Gods (Shadows of the Immortals Book 2) by Finlayson Marina

Author:Finlayson, Marina [Finlayson, Marina]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Finesse Solutions
Published: 2016-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

10

I sent my awareness out through the house, past the guard and the door he guarded, looking for a bright spark of animal life to guide me. Not surprisingly for such a well-staffed and clean establishment, there weren’t many options, but I found a spider hanging in a dark corner beyond the bookcase door. Through its eyes I saw a staircase descending. It was only a little spider, not the sort to send scurrying down the stairs, so I moved on, hoping to find something to show me a little more of what lay below the public areas of the house.

A moth fluttered close to a naked light bulb in a dim room below my feet. I forced it away from its single-minded suicide mission and saw a group of people passing beneath it. One of them could have been Mrs Emery, though it was hard to tell through the moth’s eyes. A man broke away from the group and opened a door I hadn’t noticed, spilling more light into the room. I sent the moth in fluttering pursuit and found myself outside in the lamplit night. Damn. The man did nothing more interesting than take up an unobtrusive guard outside the door, so I set the moth free and searched for another set of eyes back inside the dark spaces under the house.

Unfortunately, I came up empty-handed. But I was more determined than ever to find out what was going on down there. The little I had seen looked like a wine cellar, which made sense for a place that had been a winery before it became a rich woman’s country estate, and I’d had the sense of a large space. Though I guess, to a moth, anything would seem large. I needed to see for myself.

I left the bathroom and wandered back to the original room where we’d had pre-dinner drinks, past my suspicious friend at the bookcase door. From there, I let myself out onto the terrace. It was cold outside, and goose bumps rose on my bare arms, but I took the steps down from the terrace as if it were the perfect night to wander around admiring the lamplit gardens.

They were certainly pretty, even in the dark. There were fairy lights in the trees here, too, and the lake at the bottom of the little hill reflected the moon in its still waters. I followed a gravel path that sloped gently down toward the lake as it curved around the back of the house.

About halfway along the house, I found what I was looking for. A terraced garden jutted out above, and the drop down to the next level was a good three metres. Built into the side of that drop was a heavy wooden door, partly concealed by shrubbery. Most people would probably have wandered right past, since it was in a dark area away from the lamp posts that lit the rest of the garden. In the lights blazing from the house above, I could make out the figure of the man standing quietly in the shadows by the door.

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