“Good. Then I will summon someone to help you to your quarters, and I will stop by later. Only for healing.”
He gave her a half bow. “Thank you again. I look forward to it. I’m anxious to return home.”
And that wasn’t a lie. But first, he needed to spend more time at Whispering Pines. Maybe then he’d earn a place in that building with the view.
Chapter 27
Celia continued to watch the manor. There was no further sign of activity; it was as dark and still by night as it was during the day. Around her, she could sense the city starting to come to life again, the dangerous, vile life that it spewed when it was dark.
Since she wasn’t sleeping, or trying to find a place for it, she wasn’t as concerned. As long as she kept her wits about her and stayed aware of her surroundings, she’d be mostly safe. Most of the gangs preyed on the defenseless.
Besides, she didn’t intend to be out there much longer. She had learned what she came for. The hunters were coming from the manor, as everyone suspected.
Only…why? What was inside there? According to Friedrich and Greta it was the home of the Minister, nothing more. Until something happened anyway. And what about the Minister himself? Was he in there, still running things? Was it he who brought these things to Dunfield? Or was he the first victim?
Her mouth twisted as she examined the place, slowly moving closer to it. The feeling of nausea started to return, but she fought it back. If it intensified, let it come. She’d vomit and then continue.
There was more here to find out.
Pushing through the sickness and unease, she made it to the door. It was thick dark wood, solid without any windows. The brass handle on it was tarnished and when she put out a hand to try it, frozen in place.
She tried the latch again, pushing against the door. There was no give to it, but that sick feeling was fading. Maybe because she was concentrating on something else, or because she worked through it. Regardless, she stepped back, frustrated.
Then, she stepped forward and pounded on the door with her fist. The booms echoed out into the quiet streets.
“Open up!” Her yell did no more than her pounding. The manor stayed dark and silent.
There was a sound from the street behind her. People whispering. She turned and saw a small crowd had gathered, down the street, halfway back to the fountain. They whispered to each other as they watched her. Then, one of them pushed through the others, limping forward.
She recognized him as the man who tried to attack her in the alley a few nights ago. Now, only one boy trailed him. He glared at her hatefully. For a moment, she looked back at him, then dismissed him from her thoughts and turned back to the door.
She thought back to Greta and Friedrich and their little girl, Lyssa instead. She could be in there still. The vile man from the alley now only had one boy behind him. Was the other in there as well?
If Greta and Friedrich were any indication, there were still good people in this town, trapped by whatever was going on behind this door. Enough was enough.
She backed up and kicked the door as hard as she could, near the latch. The door shuddered but held firm. Grimacing, she did it again, and again. On the fourth kick, she felt something give. One more, she thought, and summoning every ounce of strength she had, she kicked it again.
The door flew open, all the way through its arc to hit the wall behind with a resounding boom.
Celia jumped back, moving down the steps, her hands raised, ready to defend herself against anything that might emerge.
But nothing did. The noise of the mob behind her grew, but no one came to join her as she cautiously moved back up the steps. If she thought about it, she could still feel that nausea, although it was weak enough to ignore if she chose.
At the top, she approached the open door, waiting for one of the hunters to appear. When none did, she moved closer, until she could see inside.
The room was dark, the light of the moon illuminating it just enough for her to see that it was empty. Slowly, she entered, staying near the door so that she could grab it if it started to swing shut on its own.
There was nothing in the room that she could use to wedge it open. From the doorway she could see that it was completely empty. A large, square room coated in dust, with two boarded up windows on either side of the entrance, heavy wood trim around the edges, and one exit.
Directly across from where she stood was a closed door.
She moved in a little further, disturbing the dust on the floor and making her nose itch. She sneezed once and then advanced more.
There was no sign that anyone else had moved through the room. No tracks through the dust, no disturbance at all. When she looked back, there was a clear trail of the few steps she had taken.
Drawing in a shallow breath and trying not to cough, she crossed the room to the other door. It was locked, and when she examined it the hinges were on this side. There would be no kicking this one in, and she had nothing with her to take the hinge pins out with.
All right then, she’d go back to Greta’s for the night, get some rest and come back tomorrow
