The Chalice (Luna Vampire Series) by Christine Asher Read Free Book Online Page B

exactly the same as my cell.  However, in contrast, this room's walls were painted white and kept extremely clean.  Additionally, dozens of Persian rugs and tapestries gave it a classy feel.
                  A large chair, oddly resembling a throne, rested smack dab in the middle of the stage at the far end.  It couldn't have been an actual throne, could it?   Well, with these crazies it just might be .  And with that thought, I had to suck in a deep breath to avoid the beginnings of giggles.  Seriously, it looked as if it was a prop straight out of an Elizabethan movie.  Strange, pure and simple.
                  In fact, too many things were strange. I mean, how had he gotten all those candles to light simultaneously?  It seemed far too authentic to be an illusion caused by a few strands of electric lights on a timer.  And how did he keep reading my mind? Telepathy doesn't exist, yet nobody on this planet can make that number of lucky guesses.  Plus, how'd I jump so high?  And the night vision?   Could some paranormal shit really explain all this?  Nah .  I shook my head in frustration. Maybe he was another David Blaine or Chris Angel.  Either way, hella bizarre.
                  "I hope my home pleases you, considering you'll be inheriting it," he mused, nonchalantly strolling over to the wall and flipping a switch.  Shortly thereafter, a metal grate began rolling over the top of my cell.  "I often wonder if I should've taken a more active part in your formative years.  Alas, the past cannot be changed.  And, regrettable as my actions were, Cynthia did a splendid job of raising you."
                  "My mom's name is Cynthia," I confessed, my stomach twisting in knots. Could this guy actually be my father?   I highly doubted it.  They could've easily discovered her name by digging through my trash or intercepting my mail while they were stocking me.  Just in case, though, I decided to carry on with the ridiculous discussion.  "Listen, old man.  I need proof, cold hard evidence, before I'm gonna believe a single word that comes out of your crazy ass mouth."
                  "I expected as much.  So, I'm prepared to tell you the story of how your mother and I first met.  It should further the credibility of my claim.  Nonetheless, I prefer to discuss it in a more comfortable environment.  Follow me."  Then, with a graceful flourish, he about-faced and marched toward one of the room's two exits.  And, yeah, I trailed along right behind him.  I know, I know.  Curiosity killed the cat.  Sigh.
                  We entered into a round, windowless hallway that resembled something from an industrial facility, or a government compound, or possibly even a squeaky clean sewage ditch.  I had no clue.   Our footsteps echoed while we walked, the floor's grating amplifying the sound.  And, after a bit of this, I eventually determined that we were walking through a huge metal pipe.  Yep, stranger and stranger.
                  We proceeded at a leisurely stroll for a good five minutes, every so often hearing muffled talking as we passed intersections with smaller pipes.  One of them, apparently leading to a kitchen, was filled with the most enticing smell of herbs and spices.  My mouth watered and my stomach begged me to go down it.  Although, sadly, we just kept walking.  It took all my strength to keep pushing ahead.  God I needed food!
                  Several left turns later, we were dumped off into what appeared to be a run-of-the-mill living room, well, except for its absence of windows.  One wall held an ornately decorated fireplace which burned strong and provided light for the room.  The furnishings consisted of a brown leather couch and matching recliner, end tables, a coffee table, and Persian rugs similar to in the larger room.  The walls, however, were decorated with paintings of landscapes,