Lyra's POV
Darkness draped the mansion.
It was eerily quiet save for the loud ticking of the grandfather clock. I crept forward, my bare feet brushing against the marbled floor, my head turning from side to side for any incoming shadows looming around at the dimless hallway.
Having memorized the areas during the short tour earlier, I knew that Jakub intentionally avoided the left corner of the third floor which I surmised as a narrowed path to a room.
And then there was that basement where Jakub mentioned everything was junk there.
'Now the question is, which room leads to Julian Czarnel's private study?' I thought.
My hunch was telling me to go to the third floor.
As I walked to the spiral staircase, I could see the walls were made of glass, seeing the outside view of the evening night sky.
I could have stopped to admire the view…but right now, getting to know that High Vampire's weakness was my top priority.
It was my way of getting out without dying at least—now that I got to see the sky, I wanted more than just that.
Reaching the third floor, I swallowed hard, the dryness in my throat impossible to ignore. Once my feet stepped out of the spiral staircase, the air felt different here, making my skin crawl. The feeling was colder, heavier as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Unlike the floors Jakub toured me, this was the one that caught my attention and now that I reached here in the middle of the night, I knew my hunch was telling me this was the place.
Slowly but surely I continued moving, each step felt soundless, the grandfather clock two levels below became distant as I reached the corner.
I took a deep heaving sigh as I swiftly turned, ignoring the warning bells not to enter. And there, the long narrowed hall was a single door—no picture frames on the side, only a few decorations on this mundane interior but it was a bit suffocating to move on.
Bracing myself, I stepped forward, rather, moving in quick steps until I reached in front of the door.
There was a glimpse of hesitation, a thought of the consequences of being caught. But this was my only chance to find his weakness.
If Gregory Miller annihilated the entirety of his race, then there must be a way to kill Julian Czarnel without risking my life.
I reached for the doorknob, giving it a cautious turn—locked, as expected. I grabbed the lockpicker which I conveniently hid in my bra and I started cracking the lock.
One minute…
Two minutes…
Five minutes.
Even without the familiarity of this modern door knob, I shouldn't give up! Just a bit more until—
CLICK!
I grinned.
Bingo.
The mahogany door swung open and before me, I was greeted with complete darkness.
Shit! I forgot to bring a source of light!
I was thinking of switching the lights on but who knew what would happen if I was foolish enough to enter without seeing things.
I searched around my robe frantically if I brought anything with me…something useful. So far I had my dagger with me, a pouch with some coins and stolen jewelry in the bedroom and the keys to my apartment in Twilight Hound.
I searched around the narrowed hallway and saw some wallpaper stuck out from the edges, the decorated candle sticks cemented on the walls. I lifted my head, searching for any candle and there was one—tiny, melted waxed candle but it was better than nothing.
I took out the quartz ring and started flicking the dagger's spine. I moved frantically until a spark hissed and dropped on the candle.
Grinning, I placed the candle to the bobeche. I looked behind me to see if the coast was clear and then finally entered the study room.
'Okay, calm down, Lyra. There is no turning back now.'
And to my surprise, it was just a typical study room—a library filled with books, a desk with a red tufted chair and some papers organized in a pile on the side of his mahogany desk.
I scouted around, checking for anything useful but none that really catches my attention.
Of course, Lyra, you idiot, I thought to myself. Who would be stupid enough to leave a piece of paper that reveals your weakness out in the open?
As I was about to give up, my feet stopped when the photos framed on the wall caught my attention. I lifted my candle to see a closer look at the people.
Photos of Julian with faces I didn't recognize. Some didn't look remotely like creatures—in fact, most of them were humans.
But there were photos that caught my attention.
Something was wrong.
One, were the pictures of Julian Czarnel who was…genuinely happy. I didn't expect him to show that kind of expression at all.
But that wasn't the one that surprised me.
In every picture where Julian was uncharacteristically joyful, there were two figures beside him. One man had his face violently scribbled over in a thick black ink and the other was a woman whose face was slashed clean through with a pair of scissors.
I scowled. I couldn't tell whether these two were creatures or humans but one thing for sure they all seemed….close.
Then with my feet moving while my gaze hadn't left that picture of him smiling—a huge stark contrast of the figures he selectively erased, I collided into what looked like an easel paint. My hand instinctively reached out the white cloth covering it just to balance my footing.
"Fuck!"
Luckily, I didn't drop the candle AND the large portrait. When my gaze shifted forward to the painting, my eyes widened and my voice hitched a bit.
A beautiful woman.
Dressed in an old medieval blue dress—blonde hair, green eyes, and had a serene smile.
Like an angel that fell from the heavens. That is the perfect depiction of this painting.
I couldn't stop staring at her, the way the paintbrush strokes were eloquently painted to create perfection. It was clear whoever painted this woman truly loved art.
Or more specifically, her.
"What are you doing here?"
A deep, familiar voice came out of nowhere.
I spun, startled that the painting slipped through my hand, crashing on the floor.
The candle toppled next, bounced, then rolled till it stopped at the tip of someone's feet.
In the flickering light, there stood Julian Czarnel, clothes drenched from someone else's blood.
He didn't move. He didn't speak.
His expression however spoke a different story.
Julian Czarnel wasn't happy to see me here at all.