Page 22 of Twisted Truths

ARIANA

When the driver approaches the house, there’s no sign of the SUVs that were supposedly headed here, which seems odd. Where could they all be?

I act as though nothing is amiss and thank the mute driver for picking me up. I walk through the front door and listen until I hear him drive away, presumably to park the car wherever they go when they’re not in service, then I sneak back outside.

There are ways to access the outside from the inside of the manor, but I don’t have the layout memorized yet, so it will be easier to just make my way around the behemoth estate until I figure out where all the SUVs went.

I get lucky because there’s barely any moon tonight and fog hangs on the ground, so it’s easy for me to creep along the edge of the building. There’s only the odd sconce here and there around the manor, and even then, their flickering light seems to be absorbed by the night.

I walk for at least fifteen minutes, and just when I’m starting to think that my efforts are futile, I hear the crunch of tires on gravel. I jump behind a bush beside the manor and peek out.

A black SUV passes by on a thin path to my left that I didn’t notice since it’s so dark out. Once it’s out of sight, I listen, and when I hear nothing, I come out from behind the bush and keep walking toward where it was headed. Every sound makes me jump. I’m paranoid I’m going to find myself in a set of headlights.

My body grows tense as I round the corner of one of the turrets, but a quiet squeal falls from my lips when I spot SUVs parked off in the distance. I slowly make my way closer, careful to stay close to the dark stone of the manor. When I’m as close as I dare to go, I settle in behind greenery and watch.

A large door is open on the side of the manor, and low light shines from somewhere inside.

The sound of a vehicle door opening pierces the night, and I take note of all the SUVs until I see a woman with a black mask get out of the back seat of one of the cars and make her way toward the door. She’s wearing what I think is a costume, though that seems weird since it’s not even close to October. It looks as if maybe she’s supposed to be an angel because there are little white wings on her back when she passes through the door. But her costume is more like lingerie than an actual costume.

I’m not sure what to make of it, nor of the burly men on either side of the door standing guard. It’s obvious this is a private event, and that even if I did have the balls to sneak in and see what’s going on, I wouldn’t make it past those guys. And if they’re all wearing costumes, I’d stand out.

The two guys in question close the door and remain as sentries outside. I watch for a while longer, but no one else comes or goes, so I eventually return the way I came and go back in the manor through the front door.

I get lost trying to make it to the east wing, and I can’t help feeling watched. Every time I pass a painting, I assume it must be some long-lost Voss ancestor. If I believed in eerie, unexplained things, I’d swear they were watching me.

When I finally reach the long, arched hallway that leads to the east wing, I pause in front of the stained-glass picture of a wolf. It’s clearly no coincidence that this leads to Obsidian’s private area, and he has a wolf tattoo on his neck. It must have some meaning, but I don’t know what.

The day I arrived and met Asher in person, I noticed he had a bear tattoo on one of his hands. There’s more to these Voss brothers than meets the eye.

I continue on my way, staying in the middle of the hallway that leads to my room so I remain out of the shadows cast by the sconces on the walls. I’m not even sure why. It just feels safer somehow.

I get ready for bed, and once I’m finally tucked under the covers with the lights off, sleep is hard to find. My mind is preoccupied with what is happening at the manor tonight.

Why was the woman wearing a mask? Why was she dressed as a sexy angel?

Why are presumably rich people flying into the private airport to come here once a month?

Why does nobody in town know what’s going on?

Eventually, I drift off, but I’m no closer to the truth.

I don’t know what wakes me, but I snap into a sitting position.

It’s no longer fully dark outside, but it’s not fully morning either. The first signs of dawn make themselves known. Birds chirp outside the arched Gothic windows, and the smallest hint of daylight shines in the horizon.

When I glance around the room for some idea of what woke me from a dead sleep, something on the floor catches my eye. I frown and slide out of bed, crouching. It looks like a trail of… I run my fingers over it… sand.

What the hell?

Straightening, I follow the trail with my gaze and see that it leads to my closed bedroom door. I walk alongside it and open my door. It continues down the hall as far as I can see.

Equal parts intrigued and confused, I follow the trail until it leads to a door that goes outside. Glancing around then down at myself still in my underwear and oversized T-shirt that I wore to bed, I decide that since no one’s around, I’ll keep following the trail. It’s so early, and it’s Sunday, so I doubt anyone is wandering around outside.

I follow the sand some distance from the manor to where it looks like it stops dead in front of an ivy-covered stone wall, but as I draw nearer, I realize there’s actually an arched iron gate in the wall that’s also covered with ivy, and the line of sand continues past it.

I pause with my hand on the iron gate, part of me questioning whether I should go any farther. I mean, what is this? Who would have laid a trail of sand to lead me all this way and why? How did they get into my room without me hearing them?

But something pulls me forward and has me pushing open the creaking iron gate. A few steps inside, and I realize I’m entering a gorgeous walled-off garden. A look down the length of it reveals statues set in ivy along the perimeter of the high stone wall, flower gardens throughout, and trellises with climbing flowers covering them over a few of the pathways that lead to the center fountain.

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