Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,75
it possible that the stolen one had been the original and had the coordinates on it?
It is said that although Cazador created this painting for DeAndrew, it was never given to its intended recipient. Cazador died, and DeAndrew went missing. One surmises that foul play might be blamed, perhaps by a rival interested in the painting.
Her head swam with the possibility. People were born, lived, and died in Wolf Springs. Their attics had to be bulging with things that might hold the key to unlocking so many of the town’s dark secrets. Her grandfather might have had a fake — a replica — or it could have been the actual painting. He said his father had picked one of the paintings up at an estate sale. Was that the one? And was it the original?
The question was: had someone else figured out that he had it? Had they stolen the silver and the other painting only to cover up the theft of this vital clue?
She tingled all over and eagerly turned the page.
The mine is said to be guarded by a monstrous beast, a Hellhound, who keeps thieves at bay and protects the treasure as if it is his own. A notable detail about the legend surrounding the Hellhound is that the creature shows up in historical accounts of the area years before there is any mention of the mine. Whether this is an oversight is unclear. It is possible that when people learned of the mine they connected the creature to it as a means to scare others away.
To her disappointment there was nothing else she didn’t already know about the Hellhound, at least not in that section. Her eyes blurred, as she realized that she had to be more tired than she thought. She kept trying to read the tiny words, but her head bobbed. With a reluctant sigh, she closed the book. It would have to wait until the morning.
Click. Click. Click.
The clicking mixed with the sound of drums. Both getting closer. Both in time with the beat of her heart.
“I found this for you, a perfect fit,” Babette said, holding up some coveralls.
“But I won’t be digging in the dirt,” she protested.
“Don’t think you won’t before it’s over.”
Click.
She turned around, but no one was there. Just the walls of the cave. They were closing in on her and she smelled . . . something.
Aluminum.
No! Silver. Far more precious. Lovely but deadly.
“Just like you,” Justin whispered in her ear.
His breath was hot; it tickled.
But then he was gone and the cave was shrinking around her. The walls were closing in and she knew that they were going to bury her.
And in the darkness something growled.
Laughed.
Cried.
“Katelyn,” it whispered.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Katelyn opened her eyes with a gasp. She was in bed and something was scratching at the skylight above her head. Nails on the glass going click, click, click.
She looked up.
There: a shadow darker than any shadow, and eyes that burned like the fires of hell.
She screamed.
14
As she screamed, the eyes disappeared. She leaped for the door at the same time her grandfather barreled in, wild-eyed, a gun in his hand.
“Katie, what is it?”
“I saw it,” she whispered.
“What? What’d you see?”
And as her senses came back to her, she realized she couldn’t tell him. She was sure that what had been on her skylight had been more than just a werewolf: she was certain it had been the Hellhound. But either way she couldn’t risk her grandfather going to investigate.
“What?”
She wiped her forehead and managed an embarrassed, if extremely forced, smile. “Sorry. I — I guess I was having a nightmare.” She crossed her arms. “I feel like such an idiot.”
He visibly relaxed. “You need anything? Drink of water?”
“No, I think I’ll be fine,” she managed to say.
She strained her ears, listening for the sounds of something walking around on the roof, but heard nothing. Was it possible she had just imagined something staring down at her?
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” she barely managed to choke out around the sudden lump in her throat.
As soon as he closed the door, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against it. She thought of Beau’s grandmother stroking out because she had seen “a demon” at her window. Why would she and Katelyn both be getting visits? As far as she knew, Beau’s family had no connection to the werewolves.
Maybe it was because she knew there was something wrong and she told people.