Winter Embers [ Book 2 ]

Chapter Four

           As the thudding drew closer, Claire retreated back down the hallway. Her bare feet moved soundlessly against the smooth, polished wood floor but her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest she was certain who ever it was could hear it. Just when it seemed certain that the the intruder was going to begin their ascent up the stairs, the footsteps ceased. It was quiet save for the sound of thunder rumbling overhead and the wind and rain lashing violently at the windows.

         Perhaps she had simply let her nerves get the better of her. Being in this old house all by herself was bound to make her a bit paranoid. Maybe what had sounded like footsteps was likely nothing more than a branch knocking against the side of the house. It wouldn't be the first time a branch had come partially dislodged, especially during a storm such as this.

          With that thought in mind, Claire waited with baited breath to see if the sound would resume. When it didn't and all she heard was the howl of the wind, she felt the tension easing from her shoulders which slowly slumped forward.

          She would have laughed had she still not felt so uneasy.

          After several minutes, Claire decided to go and investigate. If a branch had broken through one of the windows, which she was growing more and more convinced was the case, than she needed to get the mess cleaned up before the water potentially caused permanent damage. The last thing she wanted was to have to replace hundred year old floor boards because they had been warped by rain water.

          With a new found sense of confidence, and the unspoken promise to laugh at herself when it became evident that she had spooked herself needlessly, Claire started towards the stairs again.

          She didn't make it more than a few steps when she felt a hand clamp down over her mouth, muffling the cry of surprise that attempted to escape when an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her backwards into the shadows.

          Feet slipping on the slick floor, Claire found it impossible to regain her footing. Panic swelled up in her chest and she rammed her elbow as hard as she could into her captor's abdomen. She heard a grunt and for a brief moment the grip on her went slack. Before she could pull free, however, the hands tightened again before pulling her back so abruptly she lost her balance and fell against the stranger.

          Feeling both scared and angry, Claire lifted her arm again, preparing to drill her elbow repeatedly into whatever part of the stranger she could reach. Before she could land the next blow she heard a voice, low and amused, in her ear.

         "Claire, stop," the voice insisted, the tone filled with mirth.

          It was a voice Claire knew well but one she had not expected to hear.

          She jerked free, this time the hands did not try to pull her back or restrain her. She turned sharply on her heel to face the intruder.

          "Draz, what the hell?"

          He was smirking at her, while one hand rubbed absently at the spot where her elbow had rammed into his stomach. She didn't know whether to smack him or hug him."Nice to see you too, Claire," he replied, lifting his other hand to sweep long, disheveled strands of blond from before his eyes. "Glad to see you're doing well."

          "What are you doing here?" Claire asked, finally giving into impulse and pulling him into a tight hug. Mostly because she had missed him, but partly to ensure that he was physically there and not some strange figment of her imagination. His presence there served to validate that her experiences had been real, that Oria was real, that Alek was real.