Vampires of Maze (Part Three) (Beautiful Immortals Series Two Book 3) by Tim O'Rourke

Author:Tim O'Rourke [O'Rourke, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ravenwoodgreys
Published: 2016-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

From below, I heard the sound of the front door being swung shut. Peeling back the sheets from over me, and feeling like I’d been the victim of a good beating, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. There was a dressing gown draped over the end of the bed and I picked this up and put it on. Pulling the dressing gown tight about me, I went to the window. I pulled back the curtain just enough for me to peek through. I could see Trent heading away down the front garden path. While I had been unconscious, the weather had turned a little warmer and although snow still covered the ground, I could see that it had started to melt into a fine mush. From the window, I watched Trent open the front gate. He headed across the park and away from the house I was now going to call home.

Once Trent had disappeared from view, I let the curtain fall back into place. Picking up the candle, and with every joint and muscle aching, I shuffled like an old woman from the bedroom and out onto a narrow landing. There were two doors leading off this and I pushed open the first of them. I found myself in a small study. There was a desk with a lamp and a row of bookshelves fixed to the wall. Whoever had once lived here had enjoyed reading. Slowly, I crossed the room and could see much of the books were detective stories written by authors like Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Turning away, I noticed a painting fixed to the wall. The painting was of a railway station. In the platform was a beast of a black steam engine. Clouds of thick, black smoke churned from its funnel and up into the platform overhang. In the foreground there was a couple who were kissing. What I couldn’t figure out was whether they were greeting each other or preparing to say goodbye. As I stood and stared at the painting, I realised it was hanging lopsided against the wall. Still holding the candle, I reached out with my free hand and attempted to straighten the painting. But however hard I tried, it just wouldn’t hang straight. So setting the candle down on the nearby desk, I lifted the picture away from the wall, and to my surprise, I could see a hole set into the brickwork. Blindly, I reached inside. It was just a small empty space. The perfect place to hide something, something valuable, something you wouldn’t want anybody else to find. With such thoughts at the forefront of my mind, I picked up the candle once more and left the study, returning to my room. I searched for the clothes I would have been wearing on the day I collapsed in the snow. I couldn’t see them anywhere. Had they been so bloodied and stained that Rea and the

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