Dreamhouse Kings by Robert Liparulo

Author:Robert Liparulo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2011-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

twenty - four

SATURDAY, 12:41 A.M.

The brothers tripped and banged into each other as they flew past the first door and the Plato wall light. At the landing, David tromped down. Xander turned to look back. Nothing was after them. “Wait!” he said.

David stopped. “Are they coming?” he asked.

Xander shook his head.

“What was that? What happened to my pajamas?” He was slowly reascending the stairs.

Xander looked at his palms, as if for clues. “They were just pulled out of my hands.”

“So somebody was in the locked room.”

Xander thought about it. Somehow, the way the pajamas vanished didn’t feel like someone yanking them away. “There was kind of a breeze when it happened.”

“Yeah, anything moving that fast is gonna make its own wind.”

“Not like that. I mean right before they disappeared.”

“So, what now?”

Xander smiled. “We keep looking.” He started down the corridor.

“Well,” David said, coming up behind him, “if you want any more clothes, use your boxers.” He chuckled at that.

“Funny.”

Both of them kept their eyes on each door they passed.

The first one, then the second. They reached another wall lamp, this one completely different from the last. It appeared to be half of a large, ornate goblet. Lead or pewter, maybe.

There was a flat base; a stem that resembled a vine-entwined column; and a chalice inlaid with colored glass pieces, cut like gems. Light not only poured from its open top, up the wall to the ceiling, but also gleamed through the colored glass. He saw now that each fixture was different, but he could not tell at this distance what each one resembled.

The next room they entered was much like the first two: bench, shelf, locked second door. The theme of the items had something to do with war. There was a smooth, round helmet; binoculars—black, not white as the ones in the Alpine room were; and a gun belt with bullets and a holster, but no gun. On the bench was a hand grenade.

Xander nudged David. “Don’t touch that, either.”

They went from room to room, finding the same arrangement of bench, shelf, hooks, and locked door. The items within reflected a wide range of activities, from mountain climbing to boating to something to do with hunting. Several times Xan-der and David were at a loss for what the items meant. They reached the end of the long hall and the final door.

“I counted twenty,” Xander said.

David nodded. “I lost count at twelve.”

Xander noted that the wall at the end of the hallway was not mirrored but decorated to match the side walls. The landing at the other end, where they had started, seemed far away.

To make their investigation complete, they stepped through the last door. Hanging from the hooks were the props from a costume play: a round shield, battered and bent; a simple helmet, equally scarred; a scabbard with a sword’s hilt extending from it; a net, made of steel links; and what appeared to be an animal pelt. Xan-der tried the interior door, knowing what he would find: it was locked.

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