In the Dark by Jen Colly Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jen Colly
her way as he passed her, but didnât pause. âStay here.â
The door slammed shut, and she didnât waste any time. She planted her butt in the nearest chair and rubbed her eyes, pulling her hair off her face. The attempt at refreshing herself helped, but only a little. Her tired body needed rest, and rightly so. It was morning, and the whole night had been a series of traumas, discoveries, and traveling. She pinched the bridge of her nose briefly, easing the tension that had settled there.
She opened her eyes, and straightened in the chair. On the wall before her, a battle-ax hung at an angle, held up by two large hooks, and to its left, a painting with a lady and a knight on a stairway. Rising, she slowly turned, taking it all in as if in the middle of a museum.
The paintings, large and vibrant, had been separated by weaponry. The innocent romance in several of the paintings countered the harsh edge the unsheathed weapons gave the room. Or maybe the danger was in the man who lived here.
The bedroom took on a similar medieval theme, but here she found no weapons. This room held several works of stained glass art. One imitated a window, the view a lush scene of rolling hills and bright green trees. Beautiful.
Ending her tour was the bathroom. Elegantly designed, with white and gold stripes running from floor to ceiling. She skimmed her fingers over the burgundy shower curtain as she walked out. He wasnât a slob. That was nice. Everything seemed to be in its place. Sheâd expected the bathroom and kitchen to be trashed.
Stopping short, she counted the rooms suspiciously. Three. No kitchen or dining room. They were missing.
Of course! Vampires wouldnât eat at a table. It would be far more convenient to bite the nearest neck. Great. Now she needed a distraction from the thought of blood drainage.
Snooping through Sorenâs bureau drawers and under the bed, she didnât find anything to give her a hint about him, or even something to occupy her time. She found nothing. No TV. No radio. The man didnât even own a chessboard. A home with this kind of decor could absolutely use a chessboard.
âIâm going to be bored for the rest of my life,â she said, sighing as she flopped onto the bed.
* * * *
Soren hadnât been called to a meeting before, and would be perfectly happy if he never saw one again. The council consisted of good and wise men, and he understood their necessity, but this sort of thing was not his cup of tea.
It didnât appear as if Captain Savard enjoyed these meetings either. Three seats remained empty for guests and emissaries, but the captain quickly gave up his seat for him. No surprise there. The man did not like being stagnant.
Captain Savard leaned against one of the wooden pillars bracing the walls. No one would suspect that he was the second most powerful man in Balinese. His stature bordered on the definition of short, and unlike the strapping Guardians, he was leanly muscled. His long black hair would touch his jaw line if he didnât keep it swept back from his face. Other than sideburns, he had no facial hair and appeared to be a young man in his early twenties. While his appearance didnât necessarily intimidate, his reputation did.
With the captain abandoning his chair, Soren now sat beside Navarre, who presided over these meetings, his word final, even over the councilâs decision. Vidor and Julian indulged in the idle conversation of noblemen, seeming not yet aware of his arrival.
Five men resided on the council, and these two had been hand chosen. Vidor Wesleyan was the last of the oldest aristocratic family, and had been on the previous council belonging to Navarreâs father. Julian had later been appointed to represent the nobility. Kind, fair, and sensible, Julian remained a favorite among both common man and aristocrat. Navarre chose well when heâd added him to the council.
Bareth, the cityâs High
The door slammed shut, and she didnât waste any time. She planted her butt in the nearest chair and rubbed her eyes, pulling her hair off her face. The attempt at refreshing herself helped, but only a little. Her tired body needed rest, and rightly so. It was morning, and the whole night had been a series of traumas, discoveries, and traveling. She pinched the bridge of her nose briefly, easing the tension that had settled there.
She opened her eyes, and straightened in the chair. On the wall before her, a battle-ax hung at an angle, held up by two large hooks, and to its left, a painting with a lady and a knight on a stairway. Rising, she slowly turned, taking it all in as if in the middle of a museum.
The paintings, large and vibrant, had been separated by weaponry. The innocent romance in several of the paintings countered the harsh edge the unsheathed weapons gave the room. Or maybe the danger was in the man who lived here.
The bedroom took on a similar medieval theme, but here she found no weapons. This room held several works of stained glass art. One imitated a window, the view a lush scene of rolling hills and bright green trees. Beautiful.
Ending her tour was the bathroom. Elegantly designed, with white and gold stripes running from floor to ceiling. She skimmed her fingers over the burgundy shower curtain as she walked out. He wasnât a slob. That was nice. Everything seemed to be in its place. Sheâd expected the bathroom and kitchen to be trashed.
Stopping short, she counted the rooms suspiciously. Three. No kitchen or dining room. They were missing.
Of course! Vampires wouldnât eat at a table. It would be far more convenient to bite the nearest neck. Great. Now she needed a distraction from the thought of blood drainage.
Snooping through Sorenâs bureau drawers and under the bed, she didnât find anything to give her a hint about him, or even something to occupy her time. She found nothing. No TV. No radio. The man didnât even own a chessboard. A home with this kind of decor could absolutely use a chessboard.
âIâm going to be bored for the rest of my life,â she said, sighing as she flopped onto the bed.
* * * *
Soren hadnât been called to a meeting before, and would be perfectly happy if he never saw one again. The council consisted of good and wise men, and he understood their necessity, but this sort of thing was not his cup of tea.
It didnât appear as if Captain Savard enjoyed these meetings either. Three seats remained empty for guests and emissaries, but the captain quickly gave up his seat for him. No surprise there. The man did not like being stagnant.
Captain Savard leaned against one of the wooden pillars bracing the walls. No one would suspect that he was the second most powerful man in Balinese. His stature bordered on the definition of short, and unlike the strapping Guardians, he was leanly muscled. His long black hair would touch his jaw line if he didnât keep it swept back from his face. Other than sideburns, he had no facial hair and appeared to be a young man in his early twenties. While his appearance didnât necessarily intimidate, his reputation did.
With the captain abandoning his chair, Soren now sat beside Navarre, who presided over these meetings, his word final, even over the councilâs decision. Vidor and Julian indulged in the idle conversation of noblemen, seeming not yet aware of his arrival.
Five men resided on the council, and these two had been hand chosen. Vidor Wesleyan was the last of the oldest aristocratic family, and had been on the previous council belonging to Navarreâs father. Julian had later been appointed to represent the nobility. Kind, fair, and sensible, Julian remained a favorite among both common man and aristocrat. Navarre chose well when heâd added him to the council.
Bareth, the cityâs High