Drown Under Earth - Shadows of the Night 3

Chapter 16

Hi!

I loved all your comments on the last chapter (which was an "Andy chapter", hehe). Okay, we're back in the story, and Anna will have a lot of work ahead of her if she wants to solve this mystery and the murder case. Eventually she will, but you'll find out... Thanks for reading!

Lara

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Chapter 16

This night we were going to question the second of the three coven leaders under suspicion: Leonhard Goshanger. Out of all the coven leaders he was the oldest, a centuries-old vampire that lived the life of a recluse at that.

Goshanger didn't go to exclusive clubs or soirees held for the coven leaders in and around New York City. Decades after he became the leader of the biggest covens in the city, he secluded himself from the rest of the vampiric community, leaving the mansion he was occupying only if it was necessary.

That alone was enough to make him a shady character in my book. Moreover, if what Fabrice told us wasn't a pack of lies, Goshanger had left his home and had run-ins with the Fade pack and Marrok in person, repeatedly. A contradiction, if nothing else.

By rights the mansion which we were approaching should not have even existed. The gate was ornamented with a touch of fleur-de-lis and a tad of moldy rust, keeping the jungle-like garden greenery in check. The sight was creepy enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When the gate swung open all by itself, I was ready to walk out on Goshanger.

The whole feel of the building reminded me of Magenta Warrens' house, except for the sense of wrongness it emanated. Something isn't right when each and every single cell in your body screams to spin on your heel and run.

The question was, was it my mind that was tricked? Some sort of psychological default of association? Or did my senses simply refuse to turn a blind eye to the accumulation of vampires in one place?

I frowned, staring at the gray, randomly cracked walls of the mansion looming in front of us.

This, that and the other.

You could only take in the building bit by staggeringly-unsettling bit. Its whole appearance would have smashed your sensual organs and used them to manure the garden. The greenery was in dire need of grooming. It felt like the carpet of ivy hugging the walls was just waiting for something, or someone else to jump and cling on to. Neglected rose bushes were overcrowded and conquered by stinging nettles.

I craned my head, then tipped it back, allowing my eyes to climb the wall. The windows were stuffed and well-fed with meters of cloth. No way to peek through and catch a glimpse of what was inside. Someone was intent on not airing the laundry.

The outer wall was ornamented by intricate patterns of stucco that were formed in the same fashion as the castellation on the roofline. Twisted and intertwined, the stucco fulminated in the peaked ends – like darts aiming for the sky.

Invisible fingers brushed my skin. I shook my head, scowled at the wind, and finally zipped up my jacket, feeling uncomfortable and edgy.

It's all in your head, Anna.

By all appearances Zack and Cole were neither disconcerted, nor rattled by the fact that we were walking into the real-world equivalent of a Brontë novel. Chances were that we wouldn't see a happy ending this night.

Zack was the first one to reach the flat stone steps to the entrance. I stared at his back. Were we simply going to enter, without an exit strategy, or-