Page 32 of A Good Heart is Hard to Find
7
Things Go Bump
Cass Leigh writes of the unspeakable horrors of the night with such familiarity and understanding, that you would think she was on intimate terms with them…
Independent
I woke up with a thumping headache and a fiery trail of brandy burning its way down my throat.
You could say I coughed my way back to life, which is certainly not in the Haunted House Gothic Heroine styleat all, but when I tried to pull away a strong arm held me fast and tipped another fiery dose down for good measure.
‘You’re awake,’ said a relieved voice that was at once strange and familiar, and I opened watering eyes to find myself lying on a four-poster bed with the gallows face of Dante Chase looming over me, a half-filled glass in one hand.
‘Half-empty – or half-full?’ I muttered.
‘Howmany fingers am I holding up?’ he demanded.
‘You’ll be missing a couple if you try and force any more of that vile stuff down me!’ I told him, struggling to sit up.
He frowned. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t have given you alcohol if you’ve got concussion,’ he conceded.
‘I haven’t got concussion,’ I said coldly, fingering the back of my head. ‘Only a little bump. No thanks to you, though! I must havefainted from terror when you attacked me.’
‘I didn’t attack you,’ he snapped. ‘I was trying to stop you falling down the stairs!’
‘A likely story.’
‘You’ve been unconscious for about fifteen minutes – long enough to carry you up here. I was starting to get worried.’
He didn’t look worried, just tense, wary and irritated, and suddenly I recalled my involuntary lucky dip into his subconscious.Was I in Bluebeard’s chamber?
The room was lit by a candelabra, the lantern, and a crackling open fire, and was strewn with what must be Dante’s belongings.
‘Where’s Guido?’ I demanded suddenly. After all, if I needed to make a speedy getaway there were all sorts of handy things in my bag I could use … practically a complete escape kit.
He stared at me. ‘Guido? There was someone with you?’
‘No – he’s my handbag.’
‘Of course he is,’ he said smoothly. ‘And he’s sitting right over there on the chair. Perhaps he could keep you company while I go for a doctor? You did bang your head on the wall, after all, and head injuries can be tricky.’
‘I haven’t got a head injury, just a bit of a bump – and you were holding up four fingers,’ I added as final proof. ‘Terror made me faint. But really,I’m fine now.’
I began inching away from him across the bed. ‘I’ll just be on my way. Goodness, it’s late, isn’t it? You must bedyingto go to bed, and here am I keeping you up … I wonder where my cloak is? Oh yes,’ I babbled, seeing it draped over the back of a chair. ‘Perhaps I could just borrow this little lantern to find my way out, and I’ll be—’
A large hand closed like a manacle overmy wrist. My pulse wentberserk.
‘You did read my mind before you fell, didn’t you?’ he demanded. ‘I didn’t believe it was possible – but I saw your face change.’
‘No, of course I didn’t,’ I assured him, smiling nervously. ‘I can’t read minds, or crystal balls or anything else!’
He didn’t let go, but continued to look at me.
I searched for an explanation that would satisfy him: ‘I just … well,sometimes if I touch someone and I let my mind go sort of blank but receptive I get a kind of impression of what’s stirring in their subconscious,’ I admitted cautiously. ‘But I don’t know what they’rethinking, really.’
‘And you did that to me?’
‘I didn’tdoit to you, I just happened to be touching you when that grisly noise started. And believe me, I’ve forgotten all about it already!’ Iassured him brightly. ‘That noise—’
