Read Online Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance) by J. S. Chancellor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. S. Chancellor
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in fifty pieces, takes precedence. So, we'll go with option number two. I survey the yard again and insanely contemplate jumping from the third-story window before reason intervenes.
I stand in the corner of the room and survey what's there. I know that I am taking for granted what belongs in his bedroom after only a few minutes and I do what Trinity taught me to do. I close my eyes and look again. Things that are seen with a precursory glance are merely being noted on a mental inventory, which will be dismissed unless the physical presence of each item is taken into consideration. This is how someone can look right at something and not see it. Now, with my eyes closed, another layer of detail is taken into account—absence.
That's when I find it. Double doors appear to be the only way in and out of the room. But the floor is made of delicately detailed stone and even with the large area rugs that have been placed throughout, their pattern is distinct. Except in high-traffic areas, like the double doors. To the left of the fireplace, in the corner of the room, the pattern is absent on the stone.
I feel along the floor and, as I suspected, there is a draft at the bottom of the baseboard. I try the fireplace and the wall itself, but I'm not that lucky. That only happens in bad espionage movies. Or to MacGyver.
I smack the wall with my fist.
Oh, fuck me.
I've really got to get better at controlling what passes through my head.
Don't worry,
Trinity says.
I'm planning on it.
I decide that going along with whatever he says mentally is my best shot at leaving without his being aware of it. As far as he knows, I will be right here waiting.
You're insatiable, Trinity. Why don't you come back here and redefine the term for me?
I also figure asking him to return will throw him off balance. It does.
I want you … like I wanted you last night.
That's my girl. I'm touched. I knew you'd come around.
While we are chatting, which, by the way, isn't something I will ever get used to—most people who talk to voices in their heads are committed—I continue to trace the floor.
I'd rather you were the one doing the touching, I say.
Christ, you're killing me. I'm really not in a position to lose my train of thought here, Jess.
The good news is this means he's at least involved in something taxing, which also means time-consuming. I've made my way all the way back to the double doors on the opposite wall and still haven't found anything. A certain favored explicative wants to come into mind, but this time I catch myself.
Be careful, Trinity.
I surprise even myself with this. I think it does more than that to him. I don't hear anything in response for a few minutes.
Do you mean it?
There is a dangerous tone in his question, an edge that I have no interest in testing.
Yes. As I say this, I find a loose stone among the well-worn ones in the corner where I started. When I go to pick it up, it depresses at my touch and the worn stones slide under the wall to reveal a circular opening in the floor.
And I will prove it to you when you come back to me.
I take one last look at the room. This is the point of no return. If I do this, if I turn against Trinity, there will be no forgiveness, no shedding of tears and no second thoughts on his side of things. I am utterly replaceable. This thought and the fear of what I've done to tether myself to him mentally are what I am left with as I drop into the passageway.
Getting away from his estate from there is a fairly straightforward affair. The passage leads away from the main grounds, into the woods behind it and dumps me out near the river. I soon tread through wild underbrush in the direction I believe Belladonna to be.
Though I have no idea what good will that do. I have no idea where they would have taken Blake. He could be anywhere. Quinn clearly said that they black-bagged him. But why? This detail suggests that they wanted him to pass as dead. There are only a couple places where this
I stand in the corner of the room and survey what's there. I know that I am taking for granted what belongs in his bedroom after only a few minutes and I do what Trinity taught me to do. I close my eyes and look again. Things that are seen with a precursory glance are merely being noted on a mental inventory, which will be dismissed unless the physical presence of each item is taken into consideration. This is how someone can look right at something and not see it. Now, with my eyes closed, another layer of detail is taken into account—absence.
That's when I find it. Double doors appear to be the only way in and out of the room. But the floor is made of delicately detailed stone and even with the large area rugs that have been placed throughout, their pattern is distinct. Except in high-traffic areas, like the double doors. To the left of the fireplace, in the corner of the room, the pattern is absent on the stone.
I feel along the floor and, as I suspected, there is a draft at the bottom of the baseboard. I try the fireplace and the wall itself, but I'm not that lucky. That only happens in bad espionage movies. Or to MacGyver.
I smack the wall with my fist.
Oh, fuck me.
I've really got to get better at controlling what passes through my head.
Don't worry,
Trinity says.
I'm planning on it.
I decide that going along with whatever he says mentally is my best shot at leaving without his being aware of it. As far as he knows, I will be right here waiting.
You're insatiable, Trinity. Why don't you come back here and redefine the term for me?
I also figure asking him to return will throw him off balance. It does.
I want you … like I wanted you last night.
That's my girl. I'm touched. I knew you'd come around.
While we are chatting, which, by the way, isn't something I will ever get used to—most people who talk to voices in their heads are committed—I continue to trace the floor.
I'd rather you were the one doing the touching, I say.
Christ, you're killing me. I'm really not in a position to lose my train of thought here, Jess.
The good news is this means he's at least involved in something taxing, which also means time-consuming. I've made my way all the way back to the double doors on the opposite wall and still haven't found anything. A certain favored explicative wants to come into mind, but this time I catch myself.
Be careful, Trinity.
I surprise even myself with this. I think it does more than that to him. I don't hear anything in response for a few minutes.
Do you mean it?
There is a dangerous tone in his question, an edge that I have no interest in testing.
Yes. As I say this, I find a loose stone among the well-worn ones in the corner where I started. When I go to pick it up, it depresses at my touch and the worn stones slide under the wall to reveal a circular opening in the floor.
And I will prove it to you when you come back to me.
I take one last look at the room. This is the point of no return. If I do this, if I turn against Trinity, there will be no forgiveness, no shedding of tears and no second thoughts on his side of things. I am utterly replaceable. This thought and the fear of what I've done to tether myself to him mentally are what I am left with as I drop into the passageway.
Getting away from his estate from there is a fairly straightforward affair. The passage leads away from the main grounds, into the woods behind it and dumps me out near the river. I soon tread through wild underbrush in the direction I believe Belladonna to be.
Though I have no idea what good will that do. I have no idea where they would have taken Blake. He could be anywhere. Quinn clearly said that they black-bagged him. But why? This detail suggests that they wanted him to pass as dead. There are only a couple places where this
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