Only A Whisper

Chapter One

Mouldy smells ebbed its way through the rotting wood of the old mansion. A full moon shone brightly through a gap in the dark, grey clouds, now inky black as night swiftly dawned over the countryside. The moon's light gave an ominous glow over everything and made the fog that rolled across the ground a faint silver. Rain poured viciously and leaked through the cover over the front door.

George Watt and Hugh Blithe stood at the steps of the massive house, its windows cracked and bricks crumbling to a fine powder, now mushy from the rain. A cold shiver ran down Hugh's spine, and his breath left his lungs in a puff of smoke. The rain drenched Hugh's black suit while Watt's shoes crunched the dead leaves of the broken path that lead to the mansion.

"Come along Blithe, best get inside before we catch a cold," Watt's voice called as he walked up the path.

They both dodged large drops of water pouring from the crack of the cover, hitting the ground and making an uneven splat. With his hand wrapped firmly around the handle, Watt pushed the door open. The strong smell of rotting wood and blood hit their faces, making a slight frown dent Hugh's face.

Every step they took creaked infuriatingly, and the deeper they went, the stronger the smell thickly wrapped around them.

"Well, that's intriguing," Hugh whispered.

"Very," replied Watt. A dead cat hung from the ceiling, its fur ruffled and its white coat was dyed red from where a hook protruded from its side. "Something tells me that this place isn't quite right."

A wall clock ticked in uniformed rhythm in a small room to the left, where dust covered everything in thick proportions. A wet breeze blew from a chipped hole in the window picking up the dust, causing Watt to cough.

Walking into the room, Hugh found a fireplace with picture frames resting on the mantelpiece. He gently blew on the filthy pictures, now showing a black and white photo of an old man and a little girl.

"Blithe, come assist me with this," Watt beckoned.

Watt bent down to pick up a cabinet which was knocked sideways, with Hugh grabbing the other side. With a huff, the partners lifted it upright again. Watt glanced around at the contents, while sliding it open. A small, shiny doll stood out among the rest of the dusty, old objects. It was a small, silver ballerina, as tall as a child's index finger. Watt quickly popped it in the inside pocket of his coat.

They both silently checked through more rooms, which seemed cleaner than the first. But as they turned into the master bedroom, Watt's eyes twinkled. "There you are."

On the bed lay a small girl, her hair stiff with dry blood. Her blue eyes stared at the ceiling and a blank expression covered her small face. Her skin was white and her lips a cracked purple. Blood stained her white night dress from a bleeding wound from her stomach. She was dead.

"Obviously murdered, about," Watt rubbed a bit of the girl's blood between his fingers, "1 hour ago."

Hugh nodded and examined the rest of the room. Blood was smeared across the purple walls and the dark wood floors. French doors which lead out to a balcony were wide open so the rain slightly came inside.

He slowly walked onto the balcony though stopped when he noticed a rope attached to the railings. "Watt, come take a look at this."

Watt walked over and eagerly looked over the edge. "Blithe, go and get McCoy. I'm going on a little adventure." His face scrunched up with determination as he flew down the rope. Hugh sighed and walked out to get McCoy. He was the boss of the London institute.

As he walked out to the waiting carriage, he saw Thomas Cole waiting on the driver's seat. Thomas was a strapping young man, only seventeen, and had strikingly long, blonde hair that ended at his jawbone. McCoy had hired him as a stable boy, but to Hugh he was a close friend.

"Ready to leave, Mr Blithe?"

"Not just yet. Though go and tell McCoy we found a murder, I'll wait here for Watt. Cole, go," Hugh added when the boy tried to protest.

As Hugh heard the carriage rattle away, he sighed and leaned against the gate. He slid down so he was sitting on the wet grass below, the rain clinging against his eyelashes. He had been doing this for two years now, since he was twenty-one. He had been working with Watt however for only a month, and in that time Hugh had begun to get more and more hatred for him.

Watt was over powering, arrogant and just... annoying. He acted as though Hugh was just an inconvenience to the situation at hand, and believed that he could do everything by himself. High couldn't complain about that though, the less time he had to spend with George Watt the better.

Hugh wiped his hands on his face. A shiver ran down his spine as a strong wind blew against him while he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets to keep warm. As horrible as it was outside, inside the death ridden mansion was far worse.

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By the time Watt had made it back to where Hugh sat, Hugh was soaked to the bone and shaking incredibly.

Hugh's head snapped up as soon as he had heard Watt coming. A wide smile tugged at Watt's lips triumphantly, and High wondered what he had discovered. It better be something good, Hugh thought to himself.

"What did you find?" Hugh asked as he stood up off the ground and dusted himself off.

"Nothing," Watt replied.

He quickly looked at him with a huff. "Good job, you let our main

Valerie raised a dainty eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

Blithe sighed. "I've been thinking. What if-" but before he could finish his sentence, the rattle of the carriage returned, with Master Cole sitting at the driver's seat. Another carriage followed, slowly rolling behind, with a glum driver at the reins.

"Ah, time to go," Valerie smiled while grabbing Cole's hand to assist her into the carriage. Blithe heaved himself in after her, and they rolled off back to the city of London.