Winter Fire [ Book 1 ] ✔

Chapter Thirty Four

When Claire woke the next morning she instinctively knew it was later than usual. A glance at the ticking clock on the mantle simply confirmed her suspicions. It was nearly eleven o'clock. Why hadn't anyone come to wake her?

By the time she was up and ready to face the day, nearly thirty minutes had past and Claire had remained undisturbed, even by Ms. Avery who would certainly be curious as to her whereabouts by now. Wouldn't she?

Hopping into a pair of shoes, Claire was still pulling her second shoe on when she pulled the bedroom door open and peeked into the hallway. It was quiet, the only sound was that of light rain pattering gently against glass window panes. The sky beyond was gray and dreary which perhaps explained why Claire had found it so easy to sleep without interruption.

She headed towards the far end of the hall, to the stairs that lead up to the attic. She climbed them without hesitation, peeking around the edge of the open door when she reached the top. She fully expected to see Alek sprawled across the couch, not-sleeping, but was surprised, and disappointed, to find the room was empty.

Rocking back on her heels, Claire frowned and made her way back downstairs.

She stopped outside of Arabella's room and knocked lightly on the door. When she didn't receive an answer, she opened it carefully and peeked inside. The room beyond was decorated with white floral wallpaper and plush white carpets leaving Claire with the impression that this was what the interior of a marshmallow might look like. The large four post bed was neatly made and as far as Claire could tell the room itself was as empty as the attic.

Where was everyone?

Deciding to investigate further, Claire made her way towards the stairs only to stop short when she came to the door that lead to Draz's room. Unlike the other rooms on the hall, the door to this room hung open, as though the latch hadn't caught.

"Draz?" she inquired, pushing it open a little further in order to peek inside.

No answer.

Biting lightly on her lower lip, Claire felt a sudden urge to step into the room. Instead, she reached for the knob and pulled the door closed with a loud snap. She frowned, uncertain why she felt the inexplicable urge to go inside. It wasn't her room and whatever was inside was none of her business.

Turning on her heel, she made it a few steps before stopping and turning back.

It felt like someone, or something, was calling to her, whispering her name. It was so faint that Claire honestly though she was simply hallucinating. As she moved closer to the door, however, the sensation grew more intense.

She paced by the door two more times, gauging how the feeling waned as she moved further away, but was no less insistent, and grew more intense when she got closer.

After staring long and hard on the polished oak door, Claire grasped the brass knob and twisted. As the door swung inward, Claire expected to be confronted with something out of the ordinary, something to warrant the butterflies which fluttered wildly in her stomach.

At first glance, it looked as though no one occupied the room at all. The bed was neatly made, the furniture appeared undisturbed, and there were no items that appeared out of place -- like scattered clothing, or forgotten trinkets.

Claire let out a heavy sigh of frustration. The feeling that had goaded her into the room to begin with had not abated, but rather had grown tenfold since she'd passed over the threshold.

As she turned to leave, pulling the door closed behind her, Claire caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Slowly she turned back, her gaze dropping towards a splash of color visible just beneath the bed.