Casino Infernale Read Free Page A

oiled those hinges in years. You have to make allowances.”
    “No, I don’t,” said Molly. “In fact, I am famous for not making allowances. However . . . that is a very dark hallway.”
    I peered into the gloom. It was hard to make out anything much. “I haven’t been inside yet, and already I don’t like this place,” I said steadily. “It feels . . . unpleasant.”
    “Given that this island is still hidden from the eyes of the world by its mystical null, and thus the perfect place to hide from prying eyes, I’m surprised no one else has made use of it,” said Molly.
    “People have tried, down the years,” I said. “No one ever stays. Trammell Island has always had a really bad reputation, and I can understand why. This house is supposed to be haunted, you know.”
    “Who by?” said Molly.
    “Take your pick,” I said. “The missing monks, any number of dead partygoers, all the bits and pieces of the first and last Lord of Trammell . . .” I paused for a moment, before looking at Molly. “I have to ask—did the old White Horse Faction do . . . something bad here?”
    “I don’t know,” said Molly. “I don’t remember! But I do think that whatever happened here . . . the echoes still remain. I didn’t realise how much I’d forgotten about my time here. . . .”
    “Could this memory loss be connected to the death of your parents?” I said carefully. “Emotional trauma, perhaps?”
    “I don’t see why,” Molly said immediately. “It’s not like I was there, when it happened. No . . . no. This is the last place I remember being really happy. I was so happy here, with my parents.”
    “Aren’t you happy with me?” I asked.
    She shot me a quick smile. “You know I am. Stop fishing for compliments. This . . . was different.”
    “You had a happy childhood,” I said. “I’m glad one of us did.”
    “It didn’t last,” said Molly. “Your family killed my family.”
    “You know I had nothing to do with that.”
    “Yes. I know. My love . . .”
    She took hold of my hand, and held it tight. And together we walked through the open doorway, and into the long dark hall of Monkton Manse.
    •   •   •
    We didn’t go far. We stopped just inside the door, and waited for our eyes to adjust to the gloom. Neither of us liked the feel of the place. The long hallway stretched away before us, its ending lost in dust-swirled air and shadows deep as the night. The silence had a heavy, oppressive quality. I called out to announce our presence, just in case, and the brooding presence of the place seemed to just swallow up my voice. There were no echoes, and nobody answered me. My vision quickly adjusted, and dim shadowy figures lining the length of the hall were revealed as suits of medieval armour. Set standing at irregular intervals, in unnatural, inhuman stances. Someone had daubed unpleasant mystical symbols on the dully gleaming steel in what looked very much like old dried blood. The steel helmets were all missing, replaced with sculpted heads of giant insects and alien monstrosities.
    Dust and cobwebs were everywhere, like an attic no one had visited in years. Some light fell in muddy streams through the smeared windows, but it made little progress into the stubborn shadows. I could smell damp on the air, and musk, and mushrooms. I decided very firmly that I wasn’t going to touch anything. I moved slowly forward, down the hall, with Molly moving quietly beside me. It felt like moving into enemy territory, with the threat of imminent attack from any number of unseen hiding places. Except, there was nobody home. I could tell. Just the house watching our every movement like a cat with a mouse.
    Rows of portraits lined both walls, painted in any number of styles; mostly head-and-shoulder portraits of the famous names who’d visited Monkton Manse, back in the twenties. None of them were smiling. And in many of them, the paint seemed to have . . . slipped,