The Wolfstone Curse by Justin Richards

Author:Justin Richards [Justin Richards]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781848778337
Publisher: Templar Publishing
Published: 2013-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

Vrolask was a small industrial town with no hint of a phone signal. Before Einzel Industries arrived, it had settled into dilapidated obscurity.

“We shall shortly be arriving at the Vrolask Palace,” the guide announced from the front of the minibus. Her name was Ludmilla and she was a severe-looking, middle-aged woman.

The minibus turned through huge ornate gates. The driveway curved gracefully round a vast lake, and ahead of them was the Vrolask Palace.

Peter had seen the picture on the website, but that did nothing to convey the scale of the place. It was an enormous ornate stone structure with more windows than Peter could easily count. The Vrolask Palace certainly dwarfed Wolfstone Manor.

Stone steps led up from the terrace, where the minibus parked, and into the wide hallway. Inside was even more impressive. The whole group looked around wide-eyed. The floors and walls were lined with polished marble. The ceiling was painted to look like the sky. Giant crystal chandeliers were almost lost in the enormous space.

A security guard checked their names off on a list and examined passports. Ludmilla explained that they had to submit details of everyone on the tour in advance. Peter and Carys were obviously lucky to have made it.

Ludmilla led them down the hallway, her heels echoing on the marble floor. Finally they all trooped into an enormous ballroom. At the far end was a raised platform. Standing there, staring down at the tourists, one black-gloved hand gripping the top of the stone balustrade was a man.

Peter went cold. His legs were suddenly weak and he felt light-headed. He grabbed Carys’s arm for support.

“What is it?” Carys whispered.

Peter hardly trusted himself to answer.

“We are most fortunate and honoured today,” Ludmilla was saying, “that Herr Einzel himself, the chairman and chief executive of Einzel Industries, is here and has graciously agreed to greet his guests.”

There was a smattering of applause. The man on the dais acknowledged it by raising his arm. His good arm. Because his other arm hung uselessly by his side. Under the harsh light of the chandeliers, Herr Einzel’s skin was even more grey, his features even more sunken and emaciated than when Peter had last seen him. He wore a light-grey suit rather than the long, dark leather trench coat but there was no doubt at all that it was the same man.

“That’s him,” Peter whispered, his mouth dry with fear. “That’s the Old One.”

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