Free Reaper: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 2) by Steffanie Holmes

to look again but knowing I had to. I needed to know.
    I stepped close to the window and peered down into the garden. But all three of the figures had gone.
    My chest tight, I yanked the curtain shut over the window, and slumped down on the bed. Was I imagining things? Seeing Ethan twice in the same week couldn’t be a coincidence. But why was Ethan here? Was he mixed up in all this somehow? What was going on?

    * * *
    A fter seeing Ethan , there was no way I could get back to sleep. Every time I tried to sink back into the bed, I saw his face looming over me. After another hour of tossing and turning, I got up again.
    Not wanting to spend my wakeful hours in vain, I conducted a complete inventory of the room, searching for something that might aid in my escape. I tossed the lamp and everything else on the bedside table on the floor, pulled out all the drawers, and hunted behind and under the bed. I found my clothes from the night before washed and folded on the chair. In the closet, stacked in front of the racks of ball gowns, were several bags of women’s clothing from H&M in a variety of sizes, the tags still on. The Morchards had clearly put a lot of thought into what would make me comfortable in my confinement.
    Sometime in the early hours of the morning I must have collapsed on the settee, because I woke up to sunlight streaming in through the window, and a nasty crick in my neck from my head hanging over the side of the chair. I sat up and glanced around the room. All my chaos from the night before had been cleaned up, the lamp was sitting back on the nightstand, and a tray had been left for me on the table. I lifted the silver dish to inspect the offerings. Scrambled eggs on sourdough, roasted tomatoes, wilted spinach, and a glass of fresh, pulpy orange juice. My stomach rumbled. I didn’t want to give Morchard the satisfaction of acquiescing to his attempts at hospitality, but I was too hungry to protest. In minutes I’d cleared the plate.
    There was a knock on the door.
    It was the creepy butler. He lurched into the room without invitation, and picked up the tray. “Follow me,” he mumbled as he walked away.
    Not wanting to be trapped in the room for another day, I did as he commanded. He didn’t speak or even turn around to check on me as he shuffled silently through the house. I followed him back downstairs to the empty ballroom. He led me to the far corner, opposite the French doors leading out to the courtyard. As the butler fiddled with something on the wall, I stared out into the garden, watching the ravens as they hopped along the high wall. I couldn’t see any figures out there. Had I imagined them last night?
    “Miss?” I whirled around. The butler held out his long fingers, gesturing to a low door that had opened up behind one of the elaborate carvings. A secret door? That was kind of cool.
    “Come in, Miss Wu.” Victor’s voice boomed out from inside the door. Curious, I lowered my head and peered into the room, not sure what I expected to see.
    It certainly wasn’t the sterile white laboratory that greeted me. Along one wall were large machines: some kind of oven, a centrifuge, different kinds of scales, some devices – I had no idea what they did. Another wall housed open shelves containing a huge variety of glassware – banks of beakers, test tubes and funnels. One the floor sat two cages; one contained three glossy white doves, the other held two yellow parakeets, who chirped loudly in greeting. Behind a long stainless steel bench stood Victor, placing test tubes into a rack and lining up a series of chemicals.
    “What is this place?” I asked, taking a second step into the room.
    “This is the laboratory I spoke about yesterday. I conduct my research in here, in addition to teaching labs on avian anatomy and working with grad students on viral research. It is a fascinating field.” Victor nudged the cage of doves with his toe. None of the birds even reacted. “These little guys