Lord Liverchester

Chapter 3

My sense of direction turned out to be spot on. Just around the corner, there was a whole town. A wooden sign painted in fancy letters welcomed us to Devonbury. All the buildings were red brick with stark black roofs. Not knowing where to go from there, we stood at the edge of the forest looking ahead. The sun shone over the town like a golden greeting. Either it was a genuine greeting or false hopefulness. At the time, I was skeptical. I wanted to go back to the tree, the second place I'd felt at home since being in North Chesterington. Something kept pushing me forward whether I liked it or not. I was being pushed and dragged, sometimes in different directions. Part of my brain barked at me to suck it up, and all of my senses finally agreed to go forward. Artois was the first to set paw on the dirt of Devonbury, walking with his tail up in the air. His confidence guided me forward. I asked if anyone knew anybody in Devonbury, but the response was underwhelming. I sighed, just hoping we weren't about to meet our demise. I held my bag tightly, scanning the area. All the lawns were well kept, and trees were sporadically growing where there weren't brick houses. The streets were all paved, smooth beneath our feet. We stayed close to the forest, heading toward a warm looking building. All its lights were on and it looked very official.

Merrily we strolled along, nearly calm. I worried at every step that Professor Pierce would find us and hurt us. With every second that didn't happen, I felt less tense. The building was coming closer and none of us were stopping. It was more important for us to get there than to explore yet. Artois cared more about the book and going home to his family, and for the time being, I was just along for the ride. I looked up at the tall houses, admiring their bricks and colored front doors. Each house had a different colored door. The building we were coming upon had a pair of black doors. White columns were on either side of a steep set of stairs, and surrounding the whole place were fragrant shrubs. Not aware of where we were, we walked up like it was nothing, and in through the heavy doors. They shut behind us, echoing through a large white entrance. There was a desk stretched from one wall to the other, behind which there was an older gentleman. A happy song was playing in my head, setting a nice mood. I let my guard down, approaching the polished wood desk that was too tall for Artois to get any words over. I looked down at him for guidance, following along as he told me to ask where we were and where to go from there.

"Hello there!" the man greeted us. "Welcome to Devonbury. If you're looking for sanctuary or shelter for the night, you're in the right place. Not much happens here, I'm afraid. But the folks here are friendly. Well, most..."

He looked out the windows behind us as if he was expecting something evil to dart past. In a flash, he turned his attention back to us and slid a piece of colored paper over the desk.

"You are here, in the town directory," he pointed. "Just down this little road, there's an inn, and they'll take you in."

The man was very friendly with sparkling green eyes. His grayish blond hair was neatly combed, maybe a little too long. I smiled at him, thanking him. I looked down at the paper, following the small printed road. Something strange caught my eye.

"What's this little black rectangle?" I asked, curious.

Again, he stared straight ahead at the windows. He was silent, looking a little put off. He gripped a gold flower on a chain around his neck.

"That's the Stainthorpe home," he said slowly. "We don't talk about it. Please, as you head for the inn, avoid that dark place at all costs."

I nodded in understanding, thanking him again. I wished I hadn't asked, as the sweet man's whole demeanor changed. He was still friendly, but now afraid. He looked around in fear. Novella stepped in, talking sweetly. She asked him more questions, just trying to pull him back to the current situation. It worked, and we left him as he was, almost the same as when we came in. He waved goodbye to us, and that was the end of our exchange. I held the paper tightly in both hands, fixated on that little black blob. What was the Stainthorpe home? Why was it so bad? I wondered all the way down the curving road. I could see the inn just off to the side, but right across from it was the darkest patch of ivy and briar I had ever seen. We were coming up on it quickly, too quickly for my warped mind. The nice man had warned us just minutes before, yet I was drawn to it and that's where I wanted to be. Artois and Novella tried to ignore the house, but I stared at it intensely as we walked by. Its bricks were crumbling, barely held together. The porch was wooden and rotting, stained from years of weathering and neglect. All the windows were blacked out with dark curtains. I saw movement on the top floor, making me panic. I ran to catch up with the others, running with them up the stairs of the inn. Its lights were beckoning to us with open arms, the sun setting behind it. The sun's red outline blended into the blue sky, a purple haze feathering outward from the blood red circle. Before we could get to the inn's light brown door, there was a noise behind us. A man dressed all in black was standing at the bottom of the stairs, yelling to us in a gruff whispery voice. All of us turned to look at him, torn with fear and intrigue. He held out his hand, motioning to the house with the most graceful of motions. I hopped down the stairs but the others were hesitant. Artois called out to me, but I wasn't listening. I trusted this man, something about him putting me completely at ease.