Chapter 36
It's cold outside, and dark, with only stars and the glow of the nearby town lighting the sky.
I shiver and cross my arms over my chest, already regretting not having put on a sweater before coming downstairs. Dressed only in a tank top and light cotton pants, the chill quickly sinks past my skin.
"Ambrose?" I whisper.
No one answers.
I hardly know what he'd be doing lurking out here in the middle of the night, anyway, but figured it was worth a shot.
Maybe he'd been called away to the animal hospital for an unscheduled shift and hadn't wanted to bother me to let me know. I make a mental note to check the garage for his car as soon as I finish checking for intruders in the yard.
With my eyes and ears still Shifted, I pad forward on bare feet along the worn brick path, keeping to the deep shadows close to the side of the house. My wolf's eyes can see by night almost as well as my human eyes can see by day, but as I round the corner and scan the stretch of lawn and the border of slender trees that line the yard, I curse myself for leaving my glasses upstairs.
Like my human sight, my wolf-vision is a bit myopic.
The farther away something is, the less detail I can pick out, and while the ground at my feet is clear enough, anything farther than a stone's throw away is just a blurry shape.
I pause, scanning for signs of movement, but everything seems still.
In fact, the whole night seems still. There's barely a breath of air to stir the dry autumn leaves, and except for the distant noise of a few cars passing through town, little disturbs the silence.
As I approach the spot where Dane and I had found the broken window, though, my ears detect a very faint sound—a quiet, intermittent hiss, which after a moment I recognize as someone whispering.
I freeze, going motionless except for my ears, which I swivel and flick back and forth as I try to pinpoint the source of the sound. It seems quite close, and yet the path in front of me is empty and the expanse of dry lawn is clearly deserted. It could be coming from the border of trees, the sound bouncing off the house and making it seem closer than it is, but something tells me this isn't the case.
Creeping forward, I approach the broken window and lower myself to my hands and knees, leaning down for a closer look. The window is only about twenty centimeters high and about twice as wide—barely big enough for a small adult to squeeze through. I could probably do it, but it would be a tight fit.
The interior is too dark for even my wolf's eyes to see, but the whispering is definitely coming from within. I can't make out any words, but it sounds like someone speaking quick and urgent under their breath, as though trying to cajole or persuade.
I lower myself a bit more as I strain to pick out something I can understand, but as I shift my weight on my hands a bit of gravel crunches beneath my palm. In the stillness, it might as well be a gunshot.
Instantly, the whispers cease.
Biting back a curse, I shrink away from the opening and press myself against the wall, heart hammering and eyes fixed on the black rectangular opening.
Nothing moves, and the silence pressing on my ears is so complete it almost hurts. I wait, counting my heartbeats as the seconds tick by, caught in the grip of a strange and unfamiliar fear. I feel almost certain that something is watching me, creeping nearer and nearer, ready to reach out from the dark window and pull me in, but also terrified that if I move it will come after and chase me.
I've rarely felt less like a hunter and more like prey.
It's your Goddamn last name, I berate myself. Stop being such a coward and—
"Noah?"
I barely bite back a scream as a hand lands on my shoulder, then spin and fall—for the second time that day—on my ass.
Ambrose stands over me, eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"God's sake, Noah," he says, kneeling at my side. "Are you alright?"
"I—yes," I gasp, pushing myself up and then climbing unsteadily to my feet. "You just startled me."
I turn away and Shift my ears and eyes to human form, and feel his hand settle on my back.
"What are you doing out here, love?" he asks gently. "You don't sleepwalk, do you?"
"No, I don't sleepwalk," I snap, face hot with shame. "I was looking for you, actually, and then I saw something moving outside and came to investigate. What are you doing out here?"
When I turn back to look at him, I find him watching me with a curiously guarded expression.
"I had a bit more to drink than was good for me and got in an argument with Brutus—no surprise there," he says. "Then I took myself for a walk to cool my head. I'm sorry if I worried you."
"No, it's..." I stop as a shiver courses the length of me, and cast a glance over my shoulder at the broken window. "It's fine, but I think I heard someth—"
"Let's get inside first," he interrupts. "Then you can tell me."
Taking me by the hand, he leads me back along the brick path, back towards the safety of the house and the comfort of our room, towards—
"Ambrose, wait," I say, pulling up short as we near the door. "I swear I heard something back there—in the basement."
"You're sure?"
"I didn't imagine it," I say, a little defensively. "I'm sure."
He regards me with a cool, veiled look. "The basement, you say?"
I nod again. "That, or whatever that window looks in on. A crawlspace? A root-cellar? Whatever it is, there's someone down there, and I heard them talking—well, whispering, anyway."
He narrows his eyes, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at me.
"What exactly did you hear?"
I blink up at him. "Just whispering," I say. "I couldn't make out any words."
He nods. "The pipes run under the house there. They make odd noises sometimes."
"Ambrose..." I'd expected him to be alarmed, not immediately dismiss my concern. "You know what, never mind."
I push past him on my way back towards the front of the house, my bare feet suddenly freezing on the rough bricks.
Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe it's the aftermath of my recent scare. Maybe it's the doubt in Ambrose's face. Whatever the cause, I don't want to acknowledge the unexpected tears stinging my eyes right now .
"Hey now, Noah—wait!" Ambrose trails after me, and catches at my arm. "Hey—I believe you, okay? We'll go and check—together. Now, if you like."
"So there is a basement?" I ask, rounding on him with a glare.
He blinks at me, taken aback. "Well...yes. Of course there is."
"But you didn't see fit to tell me about it until now," I state.
"No, I suppose not," he says, shrugging and frowning down at me. "Noah, it's... Well, I suppose you might as well see for yourself, rather than me wasting breath explaining it."
He takes my hand again and leads me back the way we'd come, past the broken window and around behind the house to the attached garaged. Unlocking the side door, he steps through and I follow, then blink as he switches on the lights.
"Here."
He points to an old door behind the set of rickety steps leading up to another, shinier door that enters onto the main house. I hadn't noticed it when he'd shown me the garage, because at the time it had been behind a pile of boxes, which were now pushed to the side.
He unlocks it and holds it open, revealing a set of rough wooden stairs leading down into the dark. "After you," he says.
Keeping my hand on the wall to my right, I start to descend when I'm suddenly struck by the irrational fear that Ambrose is going to push me, make me fall and then lock me down here with the whispering.
He's my Mate, I remind myself sternly. He wouldn't ever hurt me.
Then I jump and nearly fall anyway as his hand settles lightly on my back.
"Christ, Noah," he admonishes, taking hold of my arm to steady me. "Turn on the lights, at least."
He reaches past me and flicks a switch on the wall, which I'd failed to notice with my less-than-excellent human sight. Immediately, the darkness vanishes as overhead lights flicker to life, and reveal an admittedly empty, and not very frightening, basement space.
For one thing, it's not as large as I'd thought it would be, and for another, it's packed with boxes, disused furniture, what looks like a broken old upright piano, and various other junk.
"Rowan was something of a hoarder, it seems," Ambrose comments. "The attic's like this, too. I suppose I ought to have it all carted off to a thrift shop, or a landfill, or something, but..." He sighs. "Well, I'd have to get it out of here, first."
Beckoning to me, he goes and stands beneath a row of pipes suspended from the ceiling above. I join him, standing at his side as he stares up at them.
"What—"
"Shh—just wait."
He points at the pipes. A half-minute later, I hear a rush and gurgle of water passing through, and have to admit that the hissing whisper does sound a bit like speech.
"So, is that about what you heard?" Ambrose asks.
I frown unhappily. "I guess so."
"It's not that I doubt you, little wolf," he says, touching the side of my face, "only that I thought the same thing, the first time I was down here—thought the place was genuinely haunted, in fact." He laughs.
I shiver.
"What about the thing I saw? From the window?" I ask.
"Just before you came outside, you mean?"
I nod.
"That was me, I'll wager, doing a round of the house before I came in from my walk."
"What if it wasn't you, though?"
He pulls me closer and kisses my temple, taking a deep breath of my scent.
"The only thing I saw out there was you, little wolf. As for the whispers—even if someone managed to squeeze in through that window, the basement door's locked from the outside. They'd be stuck down here, with nothing to do but whisper in the dark."
I shiver again.
"Come on—you're cold. Let's get you to bed," he says, and leads me back upstairs, shutting and locking the basement door behind us as we go.
Up in our room Ambrose lies curled against my side with his head on my shoulder, smiling with contentment even in his sleep.
I'm less content, and remain awake, unease chewing at my heart; confused, but not about what I'd heard.
Instead, I'm confused why Ambrose was so quick and ready with an explanation for it, and so unwilling to entertain the idea that his explanation could be wrong.
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