“It’s late,” he replied eventually, moving toward the door. “Please rest. I have a feeling there is much ahead of us.”
Before I could ask him what he meant, he had left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. I rose up off the bed. I wasn’t going to sleep in here, it was too creepy. I took the diary with me and picked up the lamp, putting the other out. As I crept back along the corridor to my bedroom, I couldn’t help thinking of the night in the jungle when he’d come to save me. Amidst all the confusion and panic that night, I could still recall how it felt to be in his arms. How warm his skin had been in comparison to my body temperature. How quick and controlled his stride had been as he carried me across the lawn, like an animal coiled and ready to strike at a moment’s notice…
Draven was certainly intriguing.
Aida
Before breakfast, and far too early for my liking, Serena hauled us out of bed and dragged us along the corridor, trying to find the entrance to the attic that the Druid, or Draven, had told her about. The prospect of a change of clothing was appealing, but I dreaded what we’d find in the attic. No doubt it would be moth-eaten rags straight from the eighteenth century. Great.
Serena led us to the covered painting at the far end of the hallway. There was no sound from the boys’ room, and I suspected they were most likely still fast asleep. Like we should have been.
As we approached the painting, I could see there was another, much smaller, corridor which was shrouded in almost complete darkness. I hadn’t noticed it before, but that was understandable—the entry was partially blocked by piles of books, and more paintings that leaned against the wall. The entrance was covered in cobwebs. Clearly no one had been here in a very long time.
“Another treat from the house of horrors,” I muttered, knocking away one of the dust-filled webs. My fear of spiders was minor compared to that of snakes, so I felt just about okay dealing with whatever creepy-crawlies would be coming our way.
“Do you think we need a lamp?” Serena asked, peering down the corridor. None of us had moved from the landing. I doubted any of us were particularly keen on going first. Not just because it was creepy, but because this house was falling apart—one wrong step and we might find ourselves falling through the floor.
“Yeah,” Vita replied. “I think so… better safe than sorry.”
“Give me a second,” Serena replied, dashing back to the spare room. A few moments later she reappeared with one of the gas lamps.
“Hopefully the attic will be lighter.” Serena tried to sound upbeat.
“Since when are attics light?” I asked, amused at her efforts to make this venture seem more hopeful. “They are literally the cornerstone of every horror movie—dark, creepy and damp. And I can imagine this one will top them all off.”
“Well, it’s this or pajamas for eternity,” she replied primly.
“Is it too late to vote for pajamas for eternity?” Vita asked, only half-joking.
“Come on,” Serena instructed, taking the first step along the corridor, gingerly stepping past the piles of books and paintings. She held the lamp low on the floor, making sure that the floorboards weren’t completely rotten.
“It looks okay,” she called to us.
I sighed, following her. Vita walked behind me, and together we quietly made our way deeper into the gloom. On our right, the walls were made of crumbling plaster, exposing the brickwork beneath them. There were even more books piled up along here, their covers completely obscured by a thick coating of dust. On the left, the wall was in better condition, with lamps, unlit, at various intervals, and doors leading off into other rooms.
“Should we be exploring any of these?” I asked, as Serena marched past them.
“On the way back,” she replied. “I don’t want either of you getting more freaked out.”
“Oh, thanks,” I retorted. “We’re not completely useless. I’m not actually that freaked out by this, I—” I broke off, giving a short, and embarrassing, squeal of fright as something brushed against my face. It was just another web, and I shoved it away in irritation.
“You were saying?” Serena replied, stifling laughter.
“That this is a dumb idea,” I grumbled.
She ignored me, and we kept going until we reached the end of the corridor. The wall was covered in a velvet drape, which fell in folds on the floor. Leaning forward past Serena, I gave the drape a yank, parting it lengthways till the hallway filled with light. I had exposed a large window that looked out onto the front of the house. The glass was dusty and smeared with dirt, but it was a huge relief to stand bathed in the bright rays of the morning sun.