Read Online Dark Screams: Volume Two by Robert R. McCammon, Graham Masterton, Richard Christian Matheson - Free Book Online
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me to the sitting room.” Patrick headed right and entered a room that made her mouth drop open.
“Now, this is more like it,” Gail whispered at her side.
Floor-to-ceiling arched windows let in abundant light, yet dark blue draperies cast a dark mood on the space. Along the north wall, built-in bookcases added Victorian charm. None of the books appeared new, thank goodness. A grand fireplace complete with cherub carvings created a focal point in the room. “This is perfect for filming.”
It wasn’t the best place for someone who hated the countryside, though.
But she wasn’t here to enjoy the view. She was here to work.
“I told you so,” Gail declared.
Eleanor crossed the room, already picturing placement for audiovisual equipment and staff. Eventually she reached the southern wall and frowned. The damp smell intensified here. Right next to a jutting wall-support column, the plaster on the lower half of the wall was missing in large clumps. A curtain hid most of the problem. “What happened here?”
Patrick joined her. “The previous owner told me a storm rolled through town and damaged the walls around the windows. Repairs to the outside have been done, but the plaster in a few places has been compromised.”
Under most circumstances she’d cover up problem areas with furniture or other fixtures, but this problem was too big. “That’s unfortunate.” She turned to him. “Do you mind if we fix this?”
He nodded. “Whatever you like. I travel too often and don’t have enough time to hire a contractor to make repairs.”
“Gail, we’ll need to find the nearest home-improvement place and order the supplies today if possible,” Eleanor said.
Gail grinned with the gleam of a challenge in her eye. “I’m on it.”
“A few changes should have a big impact around here.” She glanced around. Another spot needed plaster repair. A large fern plant did little to hide it.
“Now, that is an interesting painting.” Gail approached her from behind.
Eleanor turned to glance up. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls. The golden frames boasted wealth she never had. She admired the closest one. Fields with the hints of fall on the trees filled the top of the canvas. A group of huntsmen, dressed in red coats and white riding trousers, gathered along the forest edge with hounds underfoot. The piece had been painted well, but one thing in particular drew her eye.
“Is that a fox?” she asked. “Hiding along the hills?”
“There’s a talented local artist I often commission to paint landscapes for me,” Patrick said, as he leaned against the leather sofa in the center of the room. “He captures the local wildlife quite well. I find foxes to be the most beautiful animals.”
Not one, but three more paintings portrayed fox hunting.
“If the foxes are so beautiful, why depict them like this?” Eleanor asked.
The fox hid along an embankment as a cluster of men appeared to close in. The sleek long tail, with its white tip, was the most prominent feature compared to the foliage around the animals. A flaw in the canvas made her step closer. There was a hole where its eye should be, but the remaining one stared back at her, sucking her into its depth with a glossy fear swimming along the surface.
“Finding them during the day isn’t easy, but with the right hunter, any prey can be found.” Their gazes locked briefly.
Eleanor was the first to look away.
“I just expected something different with the décor.” She quickly regretted her words. The painting unnerved her, not the overall décor. The gothic motif begged for paintings like this one.
She finished going over the room, a bit more satisfied that this location would be ideal for filming. “Is there more to see?”
“Of course.” He pointed out of the room. “Right this way, everyone.”
The dining room on the other side of the hallway had a few flaws. Some of them more obvious than others. The paisley-print draperies, left behind
“Now, this is more like it,” Gail whispered at her side.
Floor-to-ceiling arched windows let in abundant light, yet dark blue draperies cast a dark mood on the space. Along the north wall, built-in bookcases added Victorian charm. None of the books appeared new, thank goodness. A grand fireplace complete with cherub carvings created a focal point in the room. “This is perfect for filming.”
It wasn’t the best place for someone who hated the countryside, though.
But she wasn’t here to enjoy the view. She was here to work.
“I told you so,” Gail declared.
Eleanor crossed the room, already picturing placement for audiovisual equipment and staff. Eventually she reached the southern wall and frowned. The damp smell intensified here. Right next to a jutting wall-support column, the plaster on the lower half of the wall was missing in large clumps. A curtain hid most of the problem. “What happened here?”
Patrick joined her. “The previous owner told me a storm rolled through town and damaged the walls around the windows. Repairs to the outside have been done, but the plaster in a few places has been compromised.”
Under most circumstances she’d cover up problem areas with furniture or other fixtures, but this problem was too big. “That’s unfortunate.” She turned to him. “Do you mind if we fix this?”
He nodded. “Whatever you like. I travel too often and don’t have enough time to hire a contractor to make repairs.”
“Gail, we’ll need to find the nearest home-improvement place and order the supplies today if possible,” Eleanor said.
Gail grinned with the gleam of a challenge in her eye. “I’m on it.”
“A few changes should have a big impact around here.” She glanced around. Another spot needed plaster repair. A large fern plant did little to hide it.
“Now, that is an interesting painting.” Gail approached her from behind.
Eleanor turned to glance up. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls. The golden frames boasted wealth she never had. She admired the closest one. Fields with the hints of fall on the trees filled the top of the canvas. A group of huntsmen, dressed in red coats and white riding trousers, gathered along the forest edge with hounds underfoot. The piece had been painted well, but one thing in particular drew her eye.
“Is that a fox?” she asked. “Hiding along the hills?”
“There’s a talented local artist I often commission to paint landscapes for me,” Patrick said, as he leaned against the leather sofa in the center of the room. “He captures the local wildlife quite well. I find foxes to be the most beautiful animals.”
Not one, but three more paintings portrayed fox hunting.
“If the foxes are so beautiful, why depict them like this?” Eleanor asked.
The fox hid along an embankment as a cluster of men appeared to close in. The sleek long tail, with its white tip, was the most prominent feature compared to the foliage around the animals. A flaw in the canvas made her step closer. There was a hole where its eye should be, but the remaining one stared back at her, sucking her into its depth with a glossy fear swimming along the surface.
“Finding them during the day isn’t easy, but with the right hunter, any prey can be found.” Their gazes locked briefly.
Eleanor was the first to look away.
“I just expected something different with the décor.” She quickly regretted her words. The painting unnerved her, not the overall décor. The gothic motif begged for paintings like this one.
She finished going over the room, a bit more satisfied that this location would be ideal for filming. “Is there more to see?”
“Of course.” He pointed out of the room. “Right this way, everyone.”
The dining room on the other side of the hallway had a few flaws. Some of them more obvious than others. The paisley-print draperies, left behind
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