Read Online The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) by Brittany Comeaux - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brittany Comeaux
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doors at the end of this hall, one directly at the end of the corridor, and one on either side. Varg first tried the one on the right and found another small bedroom. Then he tried the middle room and found a larger bedroom, no doubt the master bed chamber.
It was then that Varg tried the last door, only there was no light inside. “I can't see a thing in here.”
Milea peeked over his shoulder. “Let me see if I can find a light.”
The half-elf felt along the wall with her hands until she grabbed hold of something in the far corner. In less than a minute, a dim light sparked to life before her and she held a freshly lit candle in one hand and a used flint rock in the other.
The dim candle light revealed Count Lerington's study, a room that was full of books, scrolls, and trinkets that were scattered in a disorderly fashion. It was clear the Count was a scholarly man, judging by the wear and tear on the old tomes and the way they were placed to the side of his chair for later use. A lone desk sat on the opposite end of the room, which was littered with scribbled parchment. Judging by the state of things, it was apparent that Lionel Lerington had left in a hurry.
Varg rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and muttered, “This mess doesn't make our job any easier.”
Milea placed the candle on Lionel's desk, then moved aside a roll of parchment that was at risk of catching fire, then said, “We have to search this study top to bottom for any evidence that points to why he was murdered, so let's get to it.”
Varg nodded, then began to search the top of the desk for important notes or papers while Milea examined the nearest bookshelf. He found nothing as he sifted through the parchment, so he started to check the drawers instead. Aching to bring an end to the silence, Varg began to speak, “I noticed that the rest of the bed chambers in the castle haven't been used in some time. Lionel doesn't appear to have any family left.”
“Perhaps,” Milea replied as she replaced a book on the shelf, “but they certainly weren't forgotten. She pointed to the left wall where a large portrait hung. The portrait had an older man—though he'd only seen Lionel's decaying body, Varg recognized this man as the Count in better days—seated in a chair. A woman, no doubt his wife judging by her age, stood behind the chair. Two younger women who appeared to be his daughters stood on either side of the chair. One of the daughters and the wife had pale hair and eyes, but Varg noticed that the other daughter had dark hair and eyes, which was odd since Lionel looked nothing like her either.
After examining the family portrait, Varg allowed his curiosity to interrupt his current task. “I wonder where they are?”
“The daughters look old enough to be married, so they probably live with husbands elsewhere. Since we didn't find a wife living in the castle, it's a safe bet that Lionel was a widower,” Milea suggested.
“Do you think his daughters may know more about the gang?” Varg asked.
“I doubt Lionel would have told them, since it only would have put their lives in danger,” Milea said. “We'll know more once we find what we're looking for.”
Varg closed the second drawer after finding nothing but old maps—he took one of the maps of Fellen just in case—and extra vials of ink and quills. He came to the last drawer, however, and find that it would not open. He sifted through the papers again to find a key, but couldn't find one. Not to worry , he thought. He simply whipped out his lockpick again and tried it on the lock, but he soon found that the lock was incredibly complex and quite impossible to open without a key.
Varg replaced his lockpick in his satchel in defeat, then looked up to Milea and asked, “Do you see a key anywhere?”
“No, sorry,” Milea said. She walked towards the desk again and asked, “Something wrong?”
“The bottom drawer of this desk is locked tighter than a king's jewel vault,”
It was then that Varg tried the last door, only there was no light inside. “I can't see a thing in here.”
Milea peeked over his shoulder. “Let me see if I can find a light.”
The half-elf felt along the wall with her hands until she grabbed hold of something in the far corner. In less than a minute, a dim light sparked to life before her and she held a freshly lit candle in one hand and a used flint rock in the other.
The dim candle light revealed Count Lerington's study, a room that was full of books, scrolls, and trinkets that were scattered in a disorderly fashion. It was clear the Count was a scholarly man, judging by the wear and tear on the old tomes and the way they were placed to the side of his chair for later use. A lone desk sat on the opposite end of the room, which was littered with scribbled parchment. Judging by the state of things, it was apparent that Lionel Lerington had left in a hurry.
Varg rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and muttered, “This mess doesn't make our job any easier.”
Milea placed the candle on Lionel's desk, then moved aside a roll of parchment that was at risk of catching fire, then said, “We have to search this study top to bottom for any evidence that points to why he was murdered, so let's get to it.”
Varg nodded, then began to search the top of the desk for important notes or papers while Milea examined the nearest bookshelf. He found nothing as he sifted through the parchment, so he started to check the drawers instead. Aching to bring an end to the silence, Varg began to speak, “I noticed that the rest of the bed chambers in the castle haven't been used in some time. Lionel doesn't appear to have any family left.”
“Perhaps,” Milea replied as she replaced a book on the shelf, “but they certainly weren't forgotten. She pointed to the left wall where a large portrait hung. The portrait had an older man—though he'd only seen Lionel's decaying body, Varg recognized this man as the Count in better days—seated in a chair. A woman, no doubt his wife judging by her age, stood behind the chair. Two younger women who appeared to be his daughters stood on either side of the chair. One of the daughters and the wife had pale hair and eyes, but Varg noticed that the other daughter had dark hair and eyes, which was odd since Lionel looked nothing like her either.
After examining the family portrait, Varg allowed his curiosity to interrupt his current task. “I wonder where they are?”
“The daughters look old enough to be married, so they probably live with husbands elsewhere. Since we didn't find a wife living in the castle, it's a safe bet that Lionel was a widower,” Milea suggested.
“Do you think his daughters may know more about the gang?” Varg asked.
“I doubt Lionel would have told them, since it only would have put their lives in danger,” Milea said. “We'll know more once we find what we're looking for.”
Varg closed the second drawer after finding nothing but old maps—he took one of the maps of Fellen just in case—and extra vials of ink and quills. He came to the last drawer, however, and find that it would not open. He sifted through the papers again to find a key, but couldn't find one. Not to worry , he thought. He simply whipped out his lockpick again and tried it on the lock, but he soon found that the lock was incredibly complex and quite impossible to open without a key.
Varg replaced his lockpick in his satchel in defeat, then looked up to Milea and asked, “Do you see a key anywhere?”
“No, sorry,” Milea said. She walked towards the desk again and asked, “Something wrong?”
“The bottom drawer of this desk is locked tighter than a king's jewel vault,”
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