Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity Natalie Brianne (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

They reached her rooms, and the carriage stopped. She went to pay the driver, but Byron stopped her hand.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded, and he helped her from the carriage.

“Goodnight, Miss Blayse.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Constantine.”

“I hope I remember you tomorrow.” He smiled. She went up the stairs to her door and took out her key. The carriage stayed until she opened the door, and she hummed to herself as she came in.

There were pieces of furniture strewn across the floor. Pages of her previous sketchbooks ripped out and in shreds on top of that. Her eyes widened as she came in, walking through the main hallway and into the sitting room. It was difficult to move because of all the debris left in the wake of an unknown destructive force. A rustling noise came from up the stairs. She looked out the window. The cab had driven out of sight. She picked up a table leg and wielded it over her head as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. The room had been darkened by a curtain that obstructed the moonlight. The folds of the fabric swayed in a breeze. The window was open. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw that the room was similarly destroyed. A hissing came from beneath the bed. Nero. She tried the light. She heard a buzzing noise, but the lights were out.

She held her weapon closer to her ready to strike. She entered the room, and a paper crumpled beneath her foot. She jolted, breath catching in her chest. Carefully, she examined the rest of her room and then knelt to look under the bed. Pitch black. The hissing continued.

“Come out little one. It’s only me.”

Her voice shook, and her entire body trembled. Nero didn’t come out, and she couldn’t see well enough to reach for him. Mira moved towards the open window. The vandal must have left through it. She pulled the curtain aside and felt the humid breeze. Her arms broke out in gooseflesh as she heard the door slam shut behind her. She turned around, pulse racing, but no one was there. She took a deep breath. The wind must have closed it.

She laughed a little and fastened the curtains to stay open. Moonlight trickled into the room. She began to move back towards the bed. Another paper crumpled. She stopped and looked around the room. Someone stood in the corner behind her bed. Dressed entirely in black. She couldn’t see their face or any distinguishing features. They took a step towards her, into the light. Mira swallowed and held the table leg out in front of her, taking a step back.

“I…I…I don’t know who…who you are…but…” She lost her words.

The shadowy figure kept silent, advancing. Mira kept stepping back, back pressed up against the wall. Her heart pounded and her thoughts raced. She was going to die. She looked at her table leg, and then at the knife of her assailant, glistening in the moonlight. They were mere steps away from one another. It wasn’t a fair fight, but at least she could try. She took a deep breath and swung with all her strength. The figure grabbed the leg with one hand and twisted it out of her grasp, throwing it to the side. Mira backed into the corner, looking for another way out.

“Can’t we talk?” Her voice faltered.

A heartbeat passed, and the shadow pinned her to the wall by her throat. Mira screamed and pulled at their grasp, to no avail. She heard a thud near her ear and turned to face a knife three inches from her face. The world turned hazy, the sound of rushing water filling her ears. Her limbs stung and then numbed. She felt her weight increase, and she fell to the ground. As black splotches clouded her vision, she watched the shadow calmly walk to the window, look back at her, and escape. The world went dark.

She didn’t know how long she had been out, but her head swam. She felt something wet near her fingertips. She opened her eyes and found Nero licking her. Her breathing returned to normal. She sat up and looked around the room. It was in shambles. Worse even than Byron’s earlier that day. She sat on her overturned mattress, trembling. Just the day before, she escaped from the hands of smugglers. This evening her home and Byron’s had been searched. She understood why they would search Byron’s place. They could steal evidence or notes he had made, thus rendering his investigation useless. But why would they search hers? She felt dizzy again. They had come to kill her.

Except they hadn’t. And obviously, they could have if they wanted to. They had ample opportunity. But they hadn’t. She heard her heartbeat in her ears. Nero nuzzled up against her hand. At least she could be grateful that he wasn’t hurt in the process.

She yawned and remembered how late it was. But how could she sleep after escaping death? First, she went through the house again and ensured that each door and window was properly latched. Then she managed to arrange the bed in a way that facilitated sleeping. When she went to find her nightclothes, she found that they, as well as most of her wardrobe had been slashed. She sagged onto the bed. Nero curled up on top of her, and eventually she drifted off to sleep.

She woke in the middle of the night having the strange feeling of not being alone. Nero lay unmoving at her feet, but that wasn’t it. She felt panic rising within her, realizing that she may have locked someone else in the building with her. She stood and walked down the stairs into her sitting room. She looked around, but saw no one. She came back into the bedroom and investigated the mirror above her bed. She saw a figure behind her, entirely dressed in black. They had come back. Except this