The Haunted Pages

Chapter 8-2

On the stairs, he passed Manfred, the gardener. For the first time, he studied the man"s features. A curious rotund, balding man, but with a youthful and excited face, like an over-fed and content child. He never spoke, just watched and smiled. And now, standing there, as if waiting, but waiting for what? Was he checking that Daniel returned to his room?

Daniel paused at the top and looked back down. Manfred stood, a cloth in his hand, polishing the balustrade. The clock in the hallway struck the hour. Once, twice … Two o"clock in the morning? What the hell was Manfred doing cleaning at this hour? Daniel put a finger and thumb into his eyes and squeezed. He didn"t like any of this, and he didn"t like Manfred. But he couldn"t quite understand why.

Daniel went straight to his room and got in beneath the covers, but he couldn"t sleep. Images of wolves and furious servants raced through his mind. By the time the morning light filled his room, his body ached as if a sledgehammer had hit him between the eyes. Exhausted, he surrendered to the futility of trying to find rest and got up, tongue fat in his mouth. He padded over to the washbasin in the en-suite and splashed ice-cold water over his face. It didn"t help much. As he dressed, he knew the day would be long, filled with thoughts of the wolf lurking somewhere underneath the castle. Perhaps there were corridors below ground, ancient, forgotten dungeons. Was that where they kept him, the wolf?

Pulling on his socks, he decided to explore the lake, around the far side, and take his mind off night noises and wolves. He went and peered out of his window to check what the weather held in store. A thin mist clung to the ground, giving everything an eerie, almost supernatural air. It being so early, he would finally have a chance to look around alone.

All of a sudden, Müller came into view. Daniel ducked before the manservant could see him. The window was slightly ajar due to the warm air, and he heard Maria"s voice, sounding urgent. Staying low, he peeked out again.

Maria came up behind Müller, gesticulating wildly. Daniel couldn"t understand a single word, but what he saw needed no translation. Müller turned, his face a perfect picture of rage, and he struck the young girl viciously across the face. She cried out and staggered back a step or two, cupping her quickly reddening cheek with both hands. Müller leaned forward, jutting out his chin, and roared at her. Unaffected, Maria squared up to him. Instead of tears, screams erupted from her mouth, and she returned the blow, striking him across the face with such force that he fell. He propped himself up on one hand, the other clasping at his now bleeding mouth, staring up at her in shock and shame. Maria spat on the ground, pivoted on her heals and stormed off. Daniel, stunned and forgetting that he stood in full view at his window, wanted to cry out with joy. The way she had hit the rude, elongated manservant made his heart sing. And then Müller got to his feet and caught Daniel"s stare. He glared. Too late to drop back down, Daniel held his ground and watched as Müller dusted himself down and moved off, a little uncertainly, but without another glance.

Daniel went back to his bed and sat, mind in a daze. He was thrilled at what he witnessed, but confused. To strike the manservant with such power, how was that possible in someone as slim and young as Maria?

What did it all mean?

He stumbled down the stairs as if in a dream and found Dad at the breakfast table amongst the devastation of empty cups and wiped clean plates. He"d obviously been there for some time, and he barely glanced up from his papers when Daniel shuffled in. “Morning,” said Daniel. Dad smiled a reply, which lacked warmth and welcome. Daniel groaned inside. Everyone seemed so angry all the time. Still shell-shocked at what he had seen, Daniel slumped into a chair and waited. When Müller came in, he silently placed a plate of scrambled eggs on toast together with a pot of coffee in front of Daniel. Though he barely looked up, he knew the man was glaring at him.

Dad glanced over, a single eyebrow raised in a silent question. Müller noticed, gave a slight bow and left. Dad followed him with his eyes and turned to Daniel, “Did you see that welt on his face?”

Daniel shook his head, absently playing with his food. He didn"t even know what "welt" meant.

“Wonder how he got that?” Dad poured some coffee and took a drink, “Probably been trying it on with someone.”

“You mean Maria?”

Dad shrugged, setting down his cup on its saucer. “Nice girl,” his voice sounded distant, but then he looked up and winked, “Don"t worry; there is no way a girl like that is going to have anything to do with an aging, rangy scarecrow like him.”

“I don"t really care, Dad.”

“You don"t?” Dad shrugged. “Well …perhaps she"s got a friend that might interest you?”

“Dad! Didn"t you hear me?” Daniel stood up, suddenly very angry, pushing his untouched plate away with real venom. “You"re always joking about stuff like this – you haven"t got a clue!” He was about to leave, but stopped. Dad sat gaping at him, his jaw dropped in total bewilderment. Daniel sighed. It wasn"t Dad"s fault he was such an i***t – or a dad. “I"m sorry,” he said quietly and went to go. Before he"d taken a step, Müller returned. An awkward silence followed, then the manservant gave a little cough, “Herr Stone, Herr Spencer has left. His room is empty.”

Dad frowned deeply. “Left?” He shook his head, gazing down at the papers in front of him, “What do you mean? We were supposed to go through this paperwork.” Dad shook his head. “Did he say anything?”

“I haven"t seen him, Mein Herr, but he has gone, his room empty. Something must have happened to call him away as he left very early this morning.”

Mein Herr,Daniel, angry still, frowned. He had been awake all night, and he hadn"t heard a thing. If Spencer had decided to leave, then he must have done so with all the skill of a ninja!

He hadn"t heard a thing.

He hadn"t heard a thingAfter he returned to bed, there were no more growls, shouts or anything. The animal – the wolf – hadn"t made another sound. He lay in bed, wide awake, every nerve on edge. He sat down on the nearest chair, light-headed all of a sudden. His mind raced. He hadn"t heard a thing, he knew it. And he began to suspect why, the horror of it chilling him to the bone. The earlier growls had an eagerness to them, a need. He wondered what the animal wanted, but knew it was nothing to do with hunger – because the hunger had already been sated.

He hadn"t heard a thingneed