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Dead of Night (Hunters of the Dark #4) Page 7


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  The basement ended up being a waste of time. Krystal didn’t go with the party, but Natalia, Quinn, Jade and Rachel had found nothing significant, except, like Krystal had predicted, dead mice and a dead dog.

  Stifling a yawn two hours later, Krystal watched the video screens alongside Amelia, who she was rooming with. On the screens, she saw other hunters sleeping peacefully in their beds in pairs. Shanna and Rachel, Jade and Natalia, and Quinn and Hunter with Serene in a room with multiple beds. Krystal had been surprised by how large the rooms were, many with large fireplaces, but none as large as the one in the main room. The design in the wood continued through the rest of the house, extending to furniture and bed frames, so that when Krystal looked up at her headboard, she saw a goblin perched at the top. Just enough to make sleep harder to come by in a haunted house. But she had a large comfortable bed, squeaky with a smelly comforter, and was surrounded by nice furniture, like a trunk that she’d found full of old newspapers and magazines, and a pretty bureau covered with snow globes. She couldn’t believe that none of the Crenshaws wanted some of this stuff, even for decoration or sentimental value. There were so many neat things in the house. It was like they lifted the sheets and everything was as it had been years ago, as if the house had been asleep and was ready to carry on as if no time had elapsed.

  “Amelia,” Krystal suddenly asked, leaning her head against the table with exhaustion. “Do you think there are secret passages here?”

  Amelia turned to her with a grin. “That would be something, wouldn’t it? Maybe. Many big old houses had service passages to keep servants out of sight.”

  Krystal perked up. “Really?”

  Amelia nodded.

  “Maybe even in the basement?”

  Considering, Amelia shrugged. “I suppose. I would say especially with the underground railroad, but the water table’s so high around here, that they were lucky to have a basement at all in a house like this, sitting on a hill. Most runaway slaves would have taken to the swamp to avoid the dogs catching their scent.”

  “But they may have had another purpose for hiding things in the basement?”

  Amelia smirked. “Do you think Dr. Frankenstein is hiding a lab in the basement?”

  “I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

  Amelia regarded her for a moment. “Anything is possible, I suppose. But I think that you’re ready to fall over. We should get the next group up for their shift.”

  Krystal nodded, not even bothering to stifle a yawn that overcame her. “If you say so.”

  “I do. The ghosts seem alright with visitors tonight, if there are ghosts here at all.”

  Krystal let Amelia help her up and back to their bedroom. When Amelia had made sure she was tucked in, she began to circle their bed with a white substance she shook out of a bag. Krystal watched, intrigued, as her eyelids grew heavier. “What are you doing?” she managed, allowing her head to sink into her pillow.

  Amelia looked up as she completed the circle. “Creating a circle of protection. Salt and other ingredients. Nothing that wants to harm us will be able to touch us while we’re vulnerable, sleeping.”

  Krystal nodded and closed her eyes, only to open them a moment later as the sorceress was about to get the next couple for monitor duty. She glanced at the curtains, which blew in the wind, reminding her of birds, for some reason. Then she sat up abruptly as she glimpsed the black sky beyond, suddenly recalling the words that Felicia’s ghost had uttered. The crows are not what they appear. Shuddering, she glanced up at the sorceress. “Amelia?”

  Amelia paused in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “Is there something mystical about crows? Don’t they symbolize death?”

  Amelia frowned and turned to her with a curious expression. “Well, different cultures have grafted different meanings onto the crow. Many, death. Irish mythology associated them with the goddess of death and war, in fact.” She cocked her head. “But then again, in Hinduism, they are messengers of information. And Aboriginals believe the crow to be a hero of sorts.” Shrugging, she looked at Krystal with interest. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Krystal pulled the covers of the bed up to her chin.

  “You’re just suddenly interested in crows?” Amelia teased.

  Krystal shook her head, then lay her head down again. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  Amelia regarded her for a moment. “Well, you can tell me if something’s weighing on your mind. I hear I’m a good listener.” She waited for a response, but getting none, she sighed. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Krystal nodded, and was asleep before she returned.