Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) by R.C. Matthews Read Free Book Online Page A

comforted her, for though she could not see that he was still by her side, she could always hear him.
    Emma filled the void with small talk about the mansion and the servants’ quarters. It would take time acclimating to living so far from her father, but Emma assured Grace that all would be well. With the scones polished off and cinnamon tea warming her belly, Grace stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.
    “You needn’t say more, my dear,” Brother Anselm said with a soft chuckle. “I’m off to find my sleeping quarters. I shall see you in the morning. Sleep well.”
    Emma insisted on disrobing Grace and helping her into one of Emma’s nightgowns. She led Grace about the room, pointing out the precise location of the private water closet. It was a luxury beyond anything Grace had experienced since she was a child. Why had the captain placed her in one of the rooms reserved for honored guests?
    After splashing cool water on her face and tapping it dry with a towel, Grace made her way alone across the room to the large four-poster bed she had explored earlier under Emma’s protective watch. The bedding, made of goose down, felt heavenly draped over her body, and she sank onto the fluffy pillows.
    “Sweet dreams,” Emma said. “I’m turning down the lights now. I have a candle to guide me to my room. You know where the bellpull is if you need me, right?”
    “Yes.” Grace pointed to her left. “There, in the corner. Right where you showed me. I’ll be fine. Off to bed with you now.”
    Emma's giggle faded behind the click of the latch catching in the door. Grace laid in bed and listened to the comforting sounds emanating from the fireplace. Every limb in her body ached with exhaustion. She fingered her cross and let out a deep sigh. The spirits Emma had slipped into her tea began to work. Her mind quieted, and she faded into blissful sleep.
    The click of the doorknob snapped Grace back into wakefulness. Cool air seeped into her room, and her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and remained dead still, listening ... but there was nothing beyond the thrum of her blood pumping through her veins. She sat up and patted her pillow, turning onto her stomach with her face away from the edge of the bed.
    The crackling fire soothed her tattered nerves, and she drifted into sleep once more.
    A moment later, an elongated hiss echoed in her eardrum, jolting her into an upright position. Fear ran cold in her blood, sending rippling waves of angst throughout her body.
    She could face every manner of evil spirit known to man, but she shriveled under the threat of snakes and spiders. Was she in that awkward state between wakefulness and sleep? She mustn’t allow her imagination to get away from her.
    “Who’s there?” she cried out into the stillness, more to fill the empty space than anything else. “Please. Is someone there?”
    Her ears strained to identify any odd noises. Was that the hiss of the fire or something more? Gooseflesh pebbled her arms, and she swallowed back a scream. The alcohol was messing with her senses. That was all. No one was there, and as soon as her heart stopped thumping like a percussion drill, she would lie down again and fall asleep. Truly.
    A faint sound penetrated the thick silence. Growing louder. Growing closer. Metallic, like scales scraping along the wood surface. Side to side. Side to side. She didn’t dare draw a breath or move a muscle. Her lungs began to burn. A distinct rattle pierced her consciousness, and Grace screamed, jumping into the middle of her bed, crouched on her knees. Closer and closer it came, gaining speed. Just as it seemed the creature would pounce, the door to her chamber crashed open, and she screamed at the top of her lungs.
    “What in the bloody blazes is wrong?” Captain Limmerick shouted, his footsteps racing toward her.
    She burst into tears and slapped at her calves as a leathery, smooth sensation inched across her skin.