Tales From The Wyrd Museum 1: The Woven Path Read Free Page A

particular mood, a spirit—or heart, if you wish. It is a belief which I am wont to share most wholeheartedly.
    ‘In the days that are to come, when you are roaming within these venerable walls and learn the little you can of what they have to offer, pause a moment and think on that. What manner of heart might you suppose beats here? What will be the nature of the force that watches you and feels your footfalls travelling and moving inside it as a whale might feel a shrimp wriggling deep in the caverns of its belly?
    ‘Perhaps the answer to that lies within yourself, but many are those who have blanched and fled when they became aware of the presence which abides here. Older than the soil wherein the foundations of this museum lie, it is. For an eternity has it pulsed, this shadow-wrapped and mysterious heart. Yet, whatever its nature may be, it is most certainly not a comfortable one and I make no apologies for it—or what it may choose to do with you. In many ways it is out of my control.’
    Her words hung ominously upon the air and Neil wondered if the terse old woman was trying to frighten or intimidate him. To show that she had not succeeded, he folded his arms and stared back at her with as bored an expression on his face as he could muster.
    'This you will discover for yourself,’ Miss Webster assured. ‘Until then all you need to know is that the private apartments of myself and my poor sisters are located upon the third floor and that area is forbidden to you. I must also tell you that my sisters are not as... strong as myself and sleep much during the day, therefore you will make no disturbance of any kind in case you awaken them. Now, who is this?’
    Neil turned to see that Josh had walked in the door with a small bag of his own clothes in both hands. Immediately, the four-year-old screwed up his face and let out a loud ‘Eerrrrrkk!’ followed by ‘It stinks!’
    Miss Webster eyed the fair-haired toddler caustically and pressed her lips so tightly together that they turned a bloodless white.
    Under the glare of this cold contempt Josh moved closer to his brother and caught hold of his sleeve.
    ‘Don't like her,’ he murmured honestly, ‘she's got a face like a camel.’
    There was an awkward silence. The old lady breathed deeply through her nose but said nothing until the boys’ father reappeared bearing two cardboard boxes.
    ‘Mr Chapman,’ she began in a voice of wood, ‘I will now show you to your rooms.’
    ‘I haven't finished bringing the rest of the stuff in,’ he said. Won't be too long. I can't leave it on the road...’
    Miss Webster's lips parted as she turned on him a chilling smile, revealing a row of mottled, brown teeth. ‘My time is precious to me, Mr Chapman,’ she said with an assured finality. ‘Pray let your belongings remain where they are for the moment.’
    ‘But someone might. . .’
    ‘Out of the question!’ her crisp voice snapped before he could finish the sentence. The folk who dwell around here are no doubt aware by now that you have been made welcome in this place. They would not dare tamper or take anything that belongs to a guest of mine. Only once has my hospitality been violated and by the likes of one that shall never be seen again. For who now could withstand those nine nights hanging from the ash? Besides, it was so very long ago, so very long, when I was green enough to... well let us say that I have never allowed myself to be so vulnerable again.’
    She licked her discoloured teeth and sneered scornfully. ‘But this is not the hour for such ancient histories. Mr Chapman, I swear to you that your goods have never been safer, not ever.’
    ‘If... if you're sure?’ he said doubtfully.
    ‘Decidedly,’ came the insistent reply. ‘There are many, many affairs of which I am most certain. Now follow me to your quarters.’
    As Miss Webster turned to open a door in the far wall, Brian put down the cardboard boxes and pulled a wry face at Neil.
    ‘Old