He gazed up at the stone ravens on its flanking gateposts, at the sun-warmed walls and the weather-burnished slates. It was in perfect condition. Reultan and her daughter – that black-haired good-looking whore of Murlainn’s – they must have looked after it well since Leonora’s death, because its lack of deterioration was an amazing thing. He always could appreciate talent; he stood for a long time admiring it. So this was where Leonora had hidden herself and her family. It was the finest house in the neighbourhood, but no-one would ever search it. Alasdair could sense the thickness of the Veil around it, a shimmering invisible presence that made his blood itch. What would happen if the Veil survived to protect the house, he wondered idly? Murlainn would never return to live here now, and all the others were dead. Here it might sit till the end of time, a beautifully preserved mausoleum. Or in fifty years’ time, when it finally became clear the owners were not just away on holiday, some property developer with a touch of Sithe blood might notice it and convert it into flats.
What do You think about Wolfsbane: 3 (Rebel Angels)?
