Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Anyway, the two of them fell in love and decided to elope,” the Innkeeper went on, continuing the story. “They were supposed to take a train to Boston, but their carriage broke down and they couldn’t get to the station. Our lovely Inn happened to be close by, so they decided to spend their honeymoon here with us instead.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “If only they had chosen someplace besides The Belgrave Mansion, their fate might have been different.”
“Why? What happened to them?” R’orn blurted out. He couldn’t help himself—he was really interested in this story for some reason.
Samantha shot him an annoyed glare.
“Yes—what did happen?” she asked the Innkeeper.
“Well, they were assigned this very room. Beau Hartford even carved their initials into the mantelpiece—see?”
She led them over to the mantelpiece over the fireplace and pointed out the “CA+BH” carved into the wood.
R’orn waited for Samantha to film the initials and then leaned down to get a closer look at them himself. As he rose, he saw an image in the tarnished silver mirror hanging over the fireplace.
It was a human male—tall, at least by human standards—and dressed in very strange clothing. He had on an oddly formal looking jacket and trousers with a large white piece of lace at his throat. His eyes were dark brown and seemed to burn into R’orn’s own when their gazes met in the mirror.
For a long moment, R’orn found he couldn’t look away. Then the man leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder and his paralysis broke.
“What in the Seven Hells? Get your fucking hands off me!” he growled, whirling around to confront the human.
But the male was gone—he had vanished as though he didn’t even exist. Even though he could still feel the heat of the other male’s hand on his shoulder, the space directly behind R’orn was empty—except for a frustrated looking Samantha.
“Look, can you please stop interrupting and making noises?” she hissed at him, waving her phone. “I’m trying to film this, you know. This is important footage!”
“But there was someone here just a minute ago—a human male. He was right behind me, leaning over my shoulder!” R’orn protested. “I saw him in the mirror, but then he was gone. Just…gone.”
He pointed at the tarnished silver surface, which now reflected only himself, Samantha, and the Innkeeper.
“Ahh, you may have seen something in our spirit mirror.” The Innkeeper glided over to him, a mysterious little smile on her face. “We keep it here because this is the most haunted room in our Inn—it allows the living to see images of the dead, you know.”
“A genuine spirit mirror? I didn’t know you had one of those here!” Samantha was instantly interested. She came over to examine the tarnished mirror but if she saw anything—or anyone—in it, she didn’t say.
R’ron rubbed his eyes. A trick of the light—that was what had happened. The room was already filled with shadows—it was lit only by a small lamp on the bedside table and the flickering flames of the fire. It was natural to think he saw something under such circumstances.
But then, why did he still feel the heat of the other male’s hand on his shoulder? And why did he get the feeling that the male had wanted something of him—wanted it desperately, with an urgency that seemed to burn along his nerve endings like fire?
Stop it! he told himself uneasily. You’re being fucking ridiculous. You’re jumping at shadows—get hold of yourself!
“Please go on with the story,” Samantha said to the Innkeeper as she started recording again. “What happened to Caroline and Beau?”
“Ah, well tragedy struck, as it so often does here at The Belgrave Mansion.” The Innkeeper sighed and shook her head sorrowfully. “You see, they didn’t know that Caroline’s father, Terrance Abernathy, had followed their trail. He had learned all about their elopement from Caroline’s maid, you see. And he had already promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to a good friend of his—a Mr. Alden Smythe of the New Hampshire Smythes, don’t you know?”
“So he was twice as angry, both because she was marrying against his will and because she had married a man who was from a rival family instead of the one he had picked for her.” Samantha’s lovely dark blue eyes had grown wide again. They looked like dark jewels in the firelight, R’orn thought. “Please, go on,” she said to the Innkeeper in a low, breathless voice.
“Well, so Caroline’s father found out where they were and he came creeping up the stairs that night,” the Innkeeper said. “He found them in bed, but when he questioned them, he was assured that they had not yet consummated their marriage.”
R’orn saw a flicker in the corner of his eye and glanced again at the mirror. For a moment, he almost seemed to see the same male he’d seen before. But this time instead of leaning over R’orn’s shoulder, he was in the large, four-poster bed. He had his arms wrapped protectively around a slim, blonde girl who had tears in her eyes. And standing over both of them was an older human male with gray hair and a face twisted with anger. In his hands he held a shotgun which he was aiming at the couple.