darkness. He reached toward the nightstand and found the bedside lamp.
But nothing happened when he flipped the switch.
“Shit!” He felt around for his phone and was relieved when he found it almost immediately. He hastened to activate the flashlight.
The miserly beam of light quelled his rising claustrophobia and he got up, just as a bright white flash of lightning lit up the entire room for a second, making the darkness so much more oppressive when it faded.
The thunderous clap that followed actually rattled the windows. The wind was picking up, and a weird clattering sound, a noise that he couldn’t quite identify, rapidly gained intensity until it was almost deafening.
Hail.
“Fuck me,” he grunted, unnerved by the severity of the storm, and tentatively made his way to his door. According to his phone, it had just gone six and he wondered when the power had died.
If the lingering warmth of the central heating was anything to go by, it couldn’t have been too long ago.
The house was eerie in its silence, and all he could hear was the wind and the dull roar of hail hitting the roof and cobblestones outside.
“Mrs. Cole?” he called, once he had stepped out of his room and into the hallway. His voice sounded ridiculously timid, and he shook his head, disgusted with himself, before calling again. This time his voice was louder and more assured. “Mrs. Cole?”
Better. But there was no still response. The beam of his flashlight barely penetrated the blackness of the hall yawning ahead of him. Everything not illuminated by the dim light was shrouded in absolute darkness.
Where the hell was she? And why was he so bloody hesitant to walk down this fucking hall?
Another shock of lightning lit the way ahead, and he was relieved to note that there was nothing lurking in the shadows. He immediately berated himself for even allowing the notion to cross his mind. Despite his love of epic fantasy books, Miles wasn’t one for ridiculous flights of fancy, so he wasn’t sure where the hell this was coming from.
He should have been prepared for it, but the resonating crack that shook the paintings on the wall, made him jump. He swore again, before throwing back his shoulders and confidently striding down the hall toward the kitchen.
The sprawling house was built on one level. It had an underground garage— Miles preferred building down rather than up. His architect had argued that building a second floor would capitalize on the panoramic views, but Miles had been adamant. One level, and a basement, or he’d find a new architect. The kitchen and pantry divided the family’s sleeping and living areas from Mrs. Cole’s private rooms.
“Mrs. Cole?” Jesus, he sounded like a broken record but he hadn’t expected to find the kitchen empty. The next flash of lightning lit up the large room long enough for him to establish that Mrs. Cole was definitely not here. There were sliced vegetables abandoned on the counter next to the stove. The large knife she must have been using for the task was tossed to the side. She had clearly been in this room when the lights went out.
He turned to exit the kitchen back the way he had come but banged his knee against one of the stools at the island. His clumsiness sent the stool toppling with a loud crash that rattled him almost as much as the thunder that followed.
His phone chose that moment to die, and Miles froze on the spot.
The darkness was absolute and oppressive. He could feel it closing in around him. The air was thick and stifling. His breathing sped up and he was embarrassed by the short harsh gasps rasping from his throat.
Disoriented, Miles stood—helplessly adrift—in the kitchen. Because he had been in the process of turning when he’d knocked over the stool, he wasn’t quite sure where the island was, or where the stool had fallen, or even where the doorway to the hall was right now—although he was certain that it was directly behind him. And he hated the idea of having his back to that cavernous black hall.
He shoved his phone into his rear trouser pocket for safekeeping and tried to figure out what his next move should be. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. And he was able to identify shapes in the darkness within moments. He remained unnerved by the blackness though. Especially with the accompanying discordant symphony of the violent storm raging right above them.
The