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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 191 из 205And if he sawus, Nikolaos would know. Somehow, she'd know. Goosebumps marched up my arms.
We scrambled inside, ready to kill and maim. The room was empty. All that adrenaline sort of sat in my body, making my breathing too quick and my heart pound for no reason. The spot where Phillip had been chained was clean. Someone had scrubbed it down real good.
I fought an urge to touch the wall where he'd been.
Edward called softly, “Anita.” He was at the door.
I hurried up to him.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
“She killed Phillip in here.”
“Keep your mind on business. I don't want to die because you're daydreaming.”
I started to get angry and swallowed it. He was right.
Edward tried the door, and it opened. No prisoners, no need to lock it. I took the left side of the door, and he took the right. The corridor was empty.
My hands were sweating on the shotgun. Edward led off down the right hand side of the corridor. I followed him into the dragon's lair. I didn't feel much like a knight. I was fresh out of shiny steeds, or was that shiny armor?
Whatever. We were here. This was it. I could taste my heart in my throat.
46
The dragon didn't come out and eat us right away. In fact, the place was quiet. As the cliche goes, too quiet.
I stepped close to Edward and whispered, “I don't mean to complain, but where is everybody?”
He leaned his back against the wall and said, “Maybe you killed Winter. That just leaves Burchard. Maybe he's on an errand.”
I shook my head. “This is too easy.”
“Don't worry. Something will go wrong soon.” He continued down the corridor, and I followed. It took me three steps to realize Edward had made a joke.
The corridor opened into a huge room like Nikolaos's throne room, but there was no chair here. There were coffins. Five of them spaced around the room on raised platforms, so they didn't have to sit on the floor in the draft. Tall, iron candelabra burned in the room, one at the foot and head of each coffin.
Most vampires made some effort to hide their coffins, but not Nikolaos.
“Arrogant,” Edward whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back. You always whispered around the coffins, at first, as if it were a funeral and they could hear you.
There was a neck-ruffling smell to the room, stale. It caught at the back of my throat and was almost a taste, faintly metallic. It was like the smell of snakes kept in cages.
We scrambled inside, ready to kill and maim. The room was empty. All that adrenaline sort of sat in my body, making my breathing too quick and my heart pound for no reason. The spot where Phillip had been chained was clean. Someone had scrubbed it down real good.
I fought an urge to touch the wall where he'd been.
Edward called softly, “Anita.” He was at the door.
I hurried up to him.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
“She killed Phillip in here.”
“Keep your mind on business. I don't want to die because you're daydreaming.”
I started to get angry and swallowed it. He was right.
Edward tried the door, and it opened. No prisoners, no need to lock it. I took the left side of the door, and he took the right. The corridor was empty.
My hands were sweating on the shotgun. Edward led off down the right hand side of the corridor. I followed him into the dragon's lair. I didn't feel much like a knight. I was fresh out of shiny steeds, or was that shiny armor?
Whatever. We were here. This was it. I could taste my heart in my throat.
46
The dragon didn't come out and eat us right away. In fact, the place was quiet. As the cliche goes, too quiet.
I stepped close to Edward and whispered, “I don't mean to complain, but where is everybody?”
He leaned his back against the wall and said, “Maybe you killed Winter. That just leaves Burchard. Maybe he's on an errand.”
I shook my head. “This is too easy.”
“Don't worry. Something will go wrong soon.” He continued down the corridor, and I followed. It took me three steps to realize Edward had made a joke.
The corridor opened into a huge room like Nikolaos's throne room, but there was no chair here. There were coffins. Five of them spaced around the room on raised platforms, so they didn't have to sit on the floor in the draft. Tall, iron candelabra burned in the room, one at the foot and head of each coffin.
Most vampires made some effort to hide their coffins, but not Nikolaos.
“Arrogant,” Edward whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back. You always whispered around the coffins, at first, as if it were a funeral and they could hear you.
There was a neck-ruffling smell to the room, stale. It caught at the back of my throat and was almost a taste, faintly metallic. It was like the smell of snakes kept in cages.