Page 16 of The Shadow of the Count
Lyle scoffed. “How many Edwards and Henrys do you know?”
“That’s different.” He paced away from the food.
“Bah. For all you know, there are a million of that name in Romania. Here, distract yourself with the newspaper. There’s been a terrible shipwreck.” Lyle indicated the newspaper on a silver salver.
“Oh? What happened?”
“It was towed in. Everyone on board—everyone—had been murdered. Quite violently, from what I hear. Can you imagine?”
“No! How awful! Was it…could it be soldiers?”
“It was supposed to be passengers and cargo.”
Donnie grabbed the paper, ignoring the lurid lead headline and first paragraph for the meat of the story. He pursed his lips. “Varna. Bulgaria.”
That didn’t bode well, and suddenly he wanted his brother here with him, more than anything. So many coincidences.
The butler appeared in the doorway, startling him badly. “Dr. Richard Haworth here to see you, sir.”
“Send him in.” Lyle rolled his eyes. “You and your doctor.”
“Hush, you.” He went to Lyle and hugged him, though, because he would be so much farther from Peter if not for his chum. Then he turned to Richard. “My friend. Good to see you.”
“Hello. I came to make sure you were well. I worried the visit to the hospital upset you.”
“It did, but not in the way you and Lyle seemed to think. Look at this.” He thrust the paper at Richard.
Richard read the paper, and his face paled—which was a feat in itself, given that he was almost the color of the newsprint. “How incredibly disturbing.”
“How was Reynaud last night?” Donnie asked, watching Richard carefully.
“Disturbed. Very agitated. Saying the master was coming.”
“My brother and some of our friends are coming in. I would appreciate it if you could meet them.” This all…well, he had a terrible fear it was connected.
“I would like that.” Richard went to the buffet to load a plate. He was a lean man who looked as though the meal would do him good.
“Excellent.” Don moved to the huge open window, looking up into the clouds. The storm had moved in with a vengeance, the morning going from sunny to miserable in mere seconds.
“That’s quite a storm coming in.” Lyle frowned. “Not at all normal this time of year.”
“I thought all it did here was rain. It looks like something from a painting.” He leaned with Lyle, both of them staring at the roiling clouds.
“It looks almost supernatural.” Richard had stopped eating, fork halfway to his mouth, staring out at the sky.
That wasn’t a lie. Donnie’s mind didn’t understand it, but his heart did. His soul did. “It does.”
“Non—” Lyle’s hand went to his mouth, shock written on his face. “Eyes, Donnie. There are eyes.”
Donnie looked to the sky, and he frowned. Was that…no. Surely not. It was simply a trick of the light and swirling clouds. “Don’t look, Lyle.” Lyle had gone rigid against him, and he didn’t want his friend to be frightened.
He reached out and closed the french doors even as Richard unfastened the ties on the drapes, letting the heavy damask fall closed.
Lyle slumped, so Donnie steered him to a chair. “What a strange thing.”
Rubbing his eyes with a nerveless hand, Lyle nodded. “I—I’m not feeling well.”
“Would you like me to get you to your rooms?” Donnie looked to Richard, concerned, and the doctor came up and checked Lyle’s pulse.
