Volumes 1 and 2 - Lord Loss/Demon Thief

Dervish and Meera finish with the sheet of corrugated iron. I spot two large wooden doors set in concrete in the middle of the ring of tree stumps. A thick chain and lock. Dervish bends to it, takes a key from his pocket, fiddles with the lock, throws the chain to one side and hauls the doors open.

Steps leading down beneath the ground. Dervish picks up the deer and drapes it over his shoulders. It struggles. He ignores it and starts down the steps. Meera follows, pausing to swing the doors shut behind her.

Clouds scud across the face of the moon. I stare at the doors in the ground. Silent. White-faced. Petrified.

→Waiting for Dervish and Meera to come out. Chewing my fingernails. Going back to my earlier crazy thought—what if they’re both werewolves? I try to cheer myself up by remembering his oath when I moved in—“You’ll be safe here.” Wondering if that still holds true.

Minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen. Half an hour.

Thinking—they didn’t look different when they took the deer down. No extra hair. No sharp canines. Wearing their normal clothes. They weren’t howling at the moon. Dervish was able to insert the key into the lock, so his hands couldn’t be twisted into animal-like claws. Not the appearance or actions of werewolves.

Forty-five minutes. Fifty. Coming up to an hour when… they reappear.

But not through the doors in the ground—instead, from the kitchen!

They walk out of the house, over to the wooden doors. Dervish takes the length of chain, runs it through the two large handles, then locks it. Both of them carefully slide the sheet of corrugated iron back over the doors, hiding them. They drag their feet over the marks in the dirt left by the corrugated iron, masking the tracks. Wipe their hands clean. Dervish spares the surrounding area one final glance, then they return to the house.

As soon as they enter, I close the window and race for my room—I don’t want them to find me here.

Under the covers, fully dressed, shaking.

Footsteps on the stairs.

I shut my eyes and feign sleep, expecting Dervish to look in on me. But the footsteps continue up to the top floor—his study.

I wait several minutes. When there are no further sounds, I slip out of bed, undress and put on my pyjamas, then sneak back to the rear bedroom. (I can pretend I’m sleep-walking if they discover me now.)

Studying the sheet of corrugated iron. Picking at the puzzle. Dervish and Meera went down the steps in the rear yard, but came up through the house. There must be a secret passage to somewhere inside the mansion.

Quick calculating. Flash upon the obvious answer—the cellar. The wine just a ruse. Dervish doesn’t want to keep me away from the cellar to protect his prize vintages, but to safeguard whatever lies beneath.

→Bed. Impossible to sleep. Knees drawn up to my chest. Trembling. Clutching a silver axe which I took from one of the walls. Praying I don’t have to use it.

→Shortly after dawn. Eyes drooping. Fingers loose on the axe handle.