[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Scots wear some pretty strange jammies." As Trsiel had said, the castle was still the private residence of
the latest Lord Glamis, with the family and their staff living in a wing off-limits to the daily tours. But then
the woman turned, and it was obviously not a nightgown, but a formal white dress.
She turned from the window, her eyes wide with horror. "They come!"
She snatched up her skirt and raced toward the stairs, passing right through an urn.
I glanced over at Trsiel. "I thought you said there were no ghosts here."
"That's a residual."
"A residual what?"
"A residual image of a past event. Some traumatic events burn images of themselves into a place. Like a
holographic sequence. When triggered, the sequence replays. Any ghost or necromancer, and some
sensitive humans, can trigger them." He paused. "You have seen these before, haven't you?"
I thought of the crying woman in Paige and Lucas's home.
"Er, right. I just& didn't know they were called that."
Trsiel grinned. "You thought they were ghosts?"
"Of course not. I "
He threw back his head and laughed. "What did you do? Try to talk to them? Entreat them to go into the
light?"
I glared and stalked past him up the stairs.
After two rooms of being ignored, Trsiel offered an olive branch by way of a story, one about the woman
I'd just seen. The White Lady. Ghost hunters can be the most ingenious breed when it comes to inventing
ghastly tales, but ask them to think up a name for the ghost of a woman dressed in white, and they give
you "the White Lady."
She was Janet Douglas, widow of the sixth Lord Glamis. She'd been burned at the stake for witchcraft,
accused of conspiring to poison King James V. Her true "crime" was being the sister of Archibald
Douglas, who'd expelled the young king's mother from Scotland years before. Political revenge with a
pretty, popular young widow for a pawn.
Last stop: the crypt.
I expected to descend into some dark, dank basement. Instead, Trsiel led me back to the main entrance
at the foot of the clock tower, through a door to a set of narrow stairs that led up. We climbed the stairs
into a long narrow room with a rounded ceiling.
"What's at the other end?" I asked.
"The dining room."
"Oooh, a dining room just off the crypt. Now, that's a feature you don't see very often these days." I
looked around. "Okay, where are the stiffs? I really hope they didn't stick them in those suits of armor."
"This is actually the servants' hall. Where they originally ate and slept."
"And they called it the crypt? That can't be good."
Trsiel shook his head and prodded me forward.
"What? I'm not moving fast enough?"
I stopped. If I were a cat, my fur would have stood on end. I looked around, but all I saw was a
mishmash of antiques, and two small windows at the end of the half-tunnel room.
"It's strong here, isn't it?" Trsiel said. "The strongest point, though, is in there." He pointed to the wall.
"There's a room on the other side. Legend has it that Lord Glamis walled up a group of Scottish
clansmen inside, sealed it, and left them to starve to death."
"Is it true?"
He nodded. "That one, I'm afraid, is more than a tall tale."
"So what we're feeling is another kind of residual. A negative energy instead of a physical form."
Trsiel went silent, cocking his head to look at the wall, eyes narrowing as if he could invoke an Aspicio
power of his own and look within.
"That can happen," he said slowly. "And it would make sense in a place with such a violent history. Only
one problem with the theory. Residual emotion only affects the living. The infamous 'cold spot.' Ghosts
don't feel it. Neither do angels."
"If the Nix was here, I bet her visit had something to do with whatever is making us jumpy whatever is
on the other side of that wall."
"There's nothing there. I've been "
"Doesn't hurt to check again, does it?"
"It isn't it's not pleasant in there, Eve. There are "
"Skeletons, right? People die, they leave bones. Nothing I haven't seen before."
He opened his mouth to argue. I stepped through the wall.
Chapter 31
HALFWAY THROUGH THE WALL, I STOPPED, EYE TO EYE socket with a skull. With an oath, I
wheeled to see a skeleton leaning against the wall, face-first, hands raised, dark brown streaks above
every finger bone& as if he'd died trying to claw his way out.
I turned and saw another skeleton. And another. A half-dozen of them were propped against the wall. At
the foot of that wall lay piles of bones. Splotches of dried blood streaked the brick and plaster.
Walled in. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
Scots wear some pretty strange jammies." As Trsiel had said, the castle was still the private residence of
the latest Lord Glamis, with the family and their staff living in a wing off-limits to the daily tours. But then
the woman turned, and it was obviously not a nightgown, but a formal white dress.
She turned from the window, her eyes wide with horror. "They come!"
She snatched up her skirt and raced toward the stairs, passing right through an urn.
I glanced over at Trsiel. "I thought you said there were no ghosts here."
"That's a residual."
"A residual what?"
"A residual image of a past event. Some traumatic events burn images of themselves into a place. Like a
holographic sequence. When triggered, the sequence replays. Any ghost or necromancer, and some
sensitive humans, can trigger them." He paused. "You have seen these before, haven't you?"
I thought of the crying woman in Paige and Lucas's home.
"Er, right. I just& didn't know they were called that."
Trsiel grinned. "You thought they were ghosts?"
"Of course not. I "
He threw back his head and laughed. "What did you do? Try to talk to them? Entreat them to go into the
light?"
I glared and stalked past him up the stairs.
After two rooms of being ignored, Trsiel offered an olive branch by way of a story, one about the woman
I'd just seen. The White Lady. Ghost hunters can be the most ingenious breed when it comes to inventing
ghastly tales, but ask them to think up a name for the ghost of a woman dressed in white, and they give
you "the White Lady."
She was Janet Douglas, widow of the sixth Lord Glamis. She'd been burned at the stake for witchcraft,
accused of conspiring to poison King James V. Her true "crime" was being the sister of Archibald
Douglas, who'd expelled the young king's mother from Scotland years before. Political revenge with a
pretty, popular young widow for a pawn.
Last stop: the crypt.
I expected to descend into some dark, dank basement. Instead, Trsiel led me back to the main entrance
at the foot of the clock tower, through a door to a set of narrow stairs that led up. We climbed the stairs
into a long narrow room with a rounded ceiling.
"What's at the other end?" I asked.
"The dining room."
"Oooh, a dining room just off the crypt. Now, that's a feature you don't see very often these days." I
looked around. "Okay, where are the stiffs? I really hope they didn't stick them in those suits of armor."
"This is actually the servants' hall. Where they originally ate and slept."
"And they called it the crypt? That can't be good."
Trsiel shook his head and prodded me forward.
"What? I'm not moving fast enough?"
I stopped. If I were a cat, my fur would have stood on end. I looked around, but all I saw was a
mishmash of antiques, and two small windows at the end of the half-tunnel room.
"It's strong here, isn't it?" Trsiel said. "The strongest point, though, is in there." He pointed to the wall.
"There's a room on the other side. Legend has it that Lord Glamis walled up a group of Scottish
clansmen inside, sealed it, and left them to starve to death."
"Is it true?"
He nodded. "That one, I'm afraid, is more than a tall tale."
"So what we're feeling is another kind of residual. A negative energy instead of a physical form."
Trsiel went silent, cocking his head to look at the wall, eyes narrowing as if he could invoke an Aspicio
power of his own and look within.
"That can happen," he said slowly. "And it would make sense in a place with such a violent history. Only
one problem with the theory. Residual emotion only affects the living. The infamous 'cold spot.' Ghosts
don't feel it. Neither do angels."
"If the Nix was here, I bet her visit had something to do with whatever is making us jumpy whatever is
on the other side of that wall."
"There's nothing there. I've been "
"Doesn't hurt to check again, does it?"
"It isn't it's not pleasant in there, Eve. There are "
"Skeletons, right? People die, they leave bones. Nothing I haven't seen before."
He opened his mouth to argue. I stepped through the wall.
Chapter 31
HALFWAY THROUGH THE WALL, I STOPPED, EYE TO EYE socket with a skull. With an oath, I
wheeled to see a skeleton leaning against the wall, face-first, hands raised, dark brown streaks above
every finger bone& as if he'd died trying to claw his way out.
I turned and saw another skeleton. And another. A half-dozen of them were propped against the wall. At
the foot of that wall lay piles of bones. Splotches of dried blood streaked the brick and plaster.
Walled in. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]