Read Online Silence: Part Two of Echoes & Silence by A.M Hudson - Free Book Online
Authors: A.M Hudson
Ads: Link
leaned into the wall, cupping one hand under Bump, keeping my gaze on the ground—the only thing not moving—and just focused on the lemony scent of fresh pines, wafting in low to the ground with the early morning breeze.
When it settled and my body finally accepted the suddenness of the change, Drake laughed, straightening his long cloak then deliberately messing up his hair. “I felt the same on my first jump.”
“Where are we?” I asked, noticing the short green grass to my left and the giant cream building under my hand.
“Your new home,” Drake said, and rolled his hand out to present it. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to The Castle Elysium, better known by some as Le Château de le Mort.”
I dropped my hand quickly from the wall and stepped back, hugging myself. Nothing about it looked the way I remembered. Until my eyes travelled the length of the central tower to the clock, standing proudly above the entrance, and there my mind recalled the gothic peaks and the darkness—the feeling of being so small and so alone that I stupidly let myself trust Jason. But it all slipped backward in my memory, giving way to the truth that daylight and the absence of fear extended: Arthur’s family home was beautiful, with cream cathedral-like peaks and at least a dozen open windows along the rectangular façade. Acres and acres of grass stretched across the vacant lands, tucked in on the sides under a wildly overgrown forest of evergreens, the green broken only by a white pebbled path cutting a straight line through from the front steps to as far as the eye could see.
Drake smiled at the surprise in my face. “Not what you remember?”
I brushed my hair flat and straightened my clothes, feeling slightly underdressed. “No.”
When he laughed, the sound was so warm and almost youthful that I looked back at him: his hair shone blue-black in the early light of the sun, his unnaturally blue eyes standing out like gems had been embedded beneath his inky brows. Everything about him looked and sounded human, but the pure heartless evil in his soul made his eyes gleam like the Devil’s. And I was in no way fooled by his disguise.
“How did you get me here that fast—and without breaking windows?”
He presented the sky. “We’re outdoors. Nothing to break.”
“Well, that was just crazy.” I rubbed my face, a little exhilarated now the wooziness had worn off. “I mean, people say you’re a witch, but I can’t believe I was standing in my room just a few seconds ago. That must be some wicked awesome magic.”
“It is—and it’s dangerous. Not to be taken lightly.” He offered his hand. “Now, let’s go inside. You look like you could use a warm drink.”
He was right about that. But a huge part of me just didn’t want to go in there. I could still feel the ghostly chill that stuck in my wedding night memories like paste; could still hear the clicking of Jason’s shoes as he carried me, sleepy and trusting, to that cell. “The place looks nothing like what I saw that night. And I have a very good memory,” I said accusingly.
Drake laughed. “What you saw was the southern wing—otherwise known as Drake ula’s Castle.”
“As what?”
“You may not know this, but I am a man of the arts—” which had always been evident from his thespian voice and stagey demeanour “—and one of the shining features of my home is the Gothic Castle Tours I run, complete with a theatre show and light refreshments.”
My mouth fixed around a consonant, the new information stupefying me, but my face questioned him. On everything. I let myself see the ripped tapestries again, the blood stains on the carpet, the darkness and the fear, and in place of the unknown, of the fear of what lay behind all those closed doors that night, discount spiderwebs and plastic skeletons stepped in. “So it was all… fake?”
His head moved in an over-accentuated nod. “Embellished, you might say, to look like a cliché
When it settled and my body finally accepted the suddenness of the change, Drake laughed, straightening his long cloak then deliberately messing up his hair. “I felt the same on my first jump.”
“Where are we?” I asked, noticing the short green grass to my left and the giant cream building under my hand.
“Your new home,” Drake said, and rolled his hand out to present it. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to The Castle Elysium, better known by some as Le Château de le Mort.”
I dropped my hand quickly from the wall and stepped back, hugging myself. Nothing about it looked the way I remembered. Until my eyes travelled the length of the central tower to the clock, standing proudly above the entrance, and there my mind recalled the gothic peaks and the darkness—the feeling of being so small and so alone that I stupidly let myself trust Jason. But it all slipped backward in my memory, giving way to the truth that daylight and the absence of fear extended: Arthur’s family home was beautiful, with cream cathedral-like peaks and at least a dozen open windows along the rectangular façade. Acres and acres of grass stretched across the vacant lands, tucked in on the sides under a wildly overgrown forest of evergreens, the green broken only by a white pebbled path cutting a straight line through from the front steps to as far as the eye could see.
Drake smiled at the surprise in my face. “Not what you remember?”
I brushed my hair flat and straightened my clothes, feeling slightly underdressed. “No.”
When he laughed, the sound was so warm and almost youthful that I looked back at him: his hair shone blue-black in the early light of the sun, his unnaturally blue eyes standing out like gems had been embedded beneath his inky brows. Everything about him looked and sounded human, but the pure heartless evil in his soul made his eyes gleam like the Devil’s. And I was in no way fooled by his disguise.
“How did you get me here that fast—and without breaking windows?”
He presented the sky. “We’re outdoors. Nothing to break.”
“Well, that was just crazy.” I rubbed my face, a little exhilarated now the wooziness had worn off. “I mean, people say you’re a witch, but I can’t believe I was standing in my room just a few seconds ago. That must be some wicked awesome magic.”
“It is—and it’s dangerous. Not to be taken lightly.” He offered his hand. “Now, let’s go inside. You look like you could use a warm drink.”
He was right about that. But a huge part of me just didn’t want to go in there. I could still feel the ghostly chill that stuck in my wedding night memories like paste; could still hear the clicking of Jason’s shoes as he carried me, sleepy and trusting, to that cell. “The place looks nothing like what I saw that night. And I have a very good memory,” I said accusingly.
Drake laughed. “What you saw was the southern wing—otherwise known as Drake ula’s Castle.”
“As what?”
“You may not know this, but I am a man of the arts—” which had always been evident from his thespian voice and stagey demeanour “—and one of the shining features of my home is the Gothic Castle Tours I run, complete with a theatre show and light refreshments.”
My mouth fixed around a consonant, the new information stupefying me, but my face questioned him. On everything. I let myself see the ripped tapestries again, the blood stains on the carpet, the darkness and the fear, and in place of the unknown, of the fear of what lay behind all those closed doors that night, discount spiderwebs and plastic skeletons stepped in. “So it was all… fake?”
His head moved in an over-accentuated nod. “Embellished, you might say, to look like a cliché
Similar Books
