Free Deadly Violet - 04 by Tony Richards Page A

hurt. Ellen tried to focus on the back door, but her eyes were getting blurred with tears.
    She reached it, at last. Yanked it open, went on through and slammed it shut behind her. And was almost to the hallway when she stopped and turned around again.
    The humming that the creatures were emitting was still growing louder. She had not managed to shut them out.
    The things were drifting through the back door and the walls, and coming right into her brand-new house.
     
    Hey, had the boiler gone out?
    Fred Washburne had been dozing in his favorite armchair, dreaming about those happy decades when his wife, Julie, had still been around. He woke up smiling gently, remembering her fondly, and then noticed how cold the room had gotten. And it had been warm before. Good Lord, had something broken down?
    He tipped his head, but couldn’t hear the rumble that the heating made. And if anything had gone wrong, he was sure that he could fix it. Fred might be old and white-haired, but he was still stout physically and with a perfectly good mind. A little slower than he once had been, and he tended to get stiff these days. But those inconvenient facts did not do much to stop him
    He levered himself out of his chair, rotated his shoulders a few times to loosen them, then made his way to the cellar door.
    The light didn’t work either, when he clicked the switch. Wasn’t that always the way, several things breaking down at once?
    And he couldn’t hear the boiler making any noise below him, but could see a noticeable glow.
    It was coming from the riveted glass pane on the front of the metal box, and ought to have been yellow. But it wasn’t. It was … mauve.
    Fred grimaced worriedly. Had some contaminant got in with the mix, so that the fuel was burning wrong?
    He’d lived in this same house on Crealley Street his entire adult life. The boiler had been there when he’d first moved in, and he had never known this happen. But there was a first time for everything, he reckoned. And so he went down.
    He crouched in front of the device, wondering what on earth was wrong with it. The boiler was still silent. But when he peered in through the hatch, half a dozen flames were streaming from the nozzles, the same way they always did.
    They were as purple as a winter sunset. And his eyes narrowed to slits in their strangely brilliant glow. Whatever color they might be, they ought to be producing heat. The boiler should be making sounds.
    Fred put a palm to the glass, then slid it up across the metal. And the entire surface was cool.
    How did that make any sense? But he knew one thing for certain. He was only good for fixer uppers. And whatever was wrong here, it was way beyond his expertise. He’d better get in touch with a professional, someone who knew more about the subject.
    So he straightened up again, then eased himself around to face the stairs.
    And blinked amazedly.
    The staircase he’d recently come down had vanished. And so had the doorway at the top.
    Was he imagining this? Fred tried not to panic. But when he reached for where the railings ought to be, his grip closed on nothing but plain air.
    He began to shout for help, a short while later. But apparently, no one could hear him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
     
    The Eye of Hermaneus – a big white diamond on a golden chain – was already floating in the air when we walked into Raine Manor’s ballroom. Hampton – Woodard Raine’s manservant – had been waiting for us by the front door and had shown us through. So his boss was obviously expecting us.
    Only one small problem. As was often the case, we just couldn’t see him. I’m not sure whether he does that for his own amusement or is unaware it’s happening. But when he’s in the darkness of his mansion, Woody is a quite difficult character to pin down.
    As well as the empty cone of brilliance the jewel was throwing out, there were a few lit candles in the room. But it was such a massive space that their tiny flames made