Dark Throne, The (4 page)

Over a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, Heather had
studied each knob and
marveled
at their intricacy.

One was a brass knob, etched with what seemed like millions
of stars
. The etchings were as
clear as a bell and not rubbed as one might have imagined with an
antique.

Another was a wooden ball, into which had been carved a
face
. It reminded her of
Tinkerbell. Pointed ears, triangular-shaped face- the carving was
3D and the edges were sharper than ever. Not one edge had been
dulled by time.

A
painted porcelain knob had been the next one to gather Heather's
attention
. Delicately painted
flowers covered this one. But the flowers were like none she'd ever
seen and considering Heather had once written gardening manual,
she'd seen a hell of a lot of flowers. The colors were the
strangest her eyes had ever come across and she wasn't entirely
sure how the artist had even mixed the hues. One was blue, but
wasn't. There was a touch of green in it as well as purple and
crazily enough, gold. . . . It made a shade that was almost
cerulean, but
wasn't
. The rest of
the colors were the same. Containing shades Heather recognized but
in a peculiar way.

The fourth one was like a huge marble
. Inside of the glass sphere was another ball,
this time golden. This one had a segment removed from it so that a
silver sphere could be seen and then another segment had been taken
from the silver ball and there was a bronze one. Heather had sought
a line in the glass, a bubble or a mark. . . . something to
indicate how it had been manufactured, but she'd found nothing.
That particular knob was her second favorite, but it was a
close-run thing, because the fifth and final knob was out of this
world.

Constructed of a stone she'd never before seen, it reminded
her of veined Italian marble but silver and gold veins ran through
the
almost gemstone-like rock
rather than the usual shades of blue, white and green. There were
crystal caves, which shimmered and sparkled in the light and the
color of the stone was again, something she'd never before seen.
That it was a natural creation astounded her. This hadn't been dyed
a shocking shade, it was naturally this hue. Like a mixture of
precious metals, blended with a royal shade of purple. . . . It
beggared belief and would ultimately adorn her bedroom door. She
couldn't even describe a color which in anyway matched. Reds and
golds and violets all seemed to blend together to create a color
that was truly out of this world.

Each doorknob rested against a bronze sheet of metal, which
supported it and contained the screws, which would secure it to a
door
. The mechanism was
attached to a detachable knob. This one was merely a plain, bronze
sphere and held none of the beauty of the more elaborate
handles.

A
sheet of paper had been slotted underneath the material which had
protected the knobs from smashing against each
other
. She'd tried to read it,
but the writing had been faded and the paper scored with age. It
was a shame, because she'd have liked to know more about the
provenance, but it wasn't to be.

Heather reached for the knob and carried it out of the
kitchen, into the sparse hall and ascended the
stairs
. She placed it
carefully on the ground outside her bedroom, before she headed to
the bathroom to collect her toolbox: Heather smirked proudly at the
dry faucet. Not a drip in sight.

Gathering the correct screwdriver, Heather knelt down
before her bedroom door and selected the stone
doorknob
. God, it was heavy.
She hefted it in her arm and squinted down at the tiny screws. A
frown puckered her brows, because there was no way in hell such
minute screws would carry such a weight and she rummaged around for
some more, eventually coming across a set that seemed to be
stronger and as luck would have it, a dark brassy shade that
wouldn't seem out of place. Heather couldn't remember buying them,
but then, she'd spent nearly four hundred dollars at the hardware
store that day, buying everything the boy had stuttered
out.

Being independent was costly at first, but thanks to the
internet and all of the how-to guides on there, she'd managed to
decorate and fix-up her place by herself, without a cent spent on
some jackass builder who'd ogle her tits and ass and decide he
could charge her more, because she was a dumb blonde, while adding
her to his to-do list before the job was
complete
.

Heather had two things to say to that
. . . .

Hell no
.

She removed the tiny screws then started to remove the
current doorknob, taking note of how it had been inserted so that
she could copy it with this new mechanism
.

It was peaceful work and took about twenty minutes for her
to fit it to the door
. When
she'd tightened all of the screws, Heather sat back to admire her
handiwork. She was just about to test the doorknob to make sure it
worked properly, when a loud bang resounded about the upstairs
hall.

As her heart began to pound, Heather was sure two years of
her life had just been snatched from her
. The fright had effectively drained any heat from her
body that was for damned sure. On shaky limbs, she climbed to her
feet and turned her head to the left and right, hoping to see
something that could be the source of the noise. Spying nothing out
of the ordinary, she darted over to the staircase and peered over
the banister to see if anything was happening
downstairs.

When the bang came again and was followed by a dozen more
this time, she returned to her bedroom door, realizing that the
noise came from there
.

She hesitated, her fingers furling and curling about the
knob
. The room was a shell and
would be until she could afford all of the wallpaper and paint,
she'd selected to decorate her room. There was a ladder in there,
she recalled as well as a few boxes containing some of the
furniture she'd eventually use but there was nothing that would
make that noise.

Unless
. . . . one of
the window shutters had come loose. It seemed unlikely as there
wasn't even a breeze to cool down the hotter than hell temperatures
bathing Pennsylvania at that moment- more was the pity. If there
wasn't a breeze, there certainly wasn't a strong enough wind to
nudge at one of the shutters and tug it out of the
catch.

Heather's hand touched the cool stone, her palm brushed
against the smooth surface, the heel grazed against one of the
crystal caves and the sensation tickled the sensitive
flesh
. She jumped back as
though burned and jumped again, when the banging
continued.

It sounded like
. . .
.

She shook her head, but Heather knew what it sounded
like
. One of her next door
neighbors had been a pimp back in the city and the police had come
to arrest him. When he'd refused to leave the apartment, they'd
broken down his door.

And the banging echoing around the
upstairs hallways sounded just like that.

It couldn't possibly be and yet
. . . . there was no other plausible explanation
either.

Heather sucked in a breath, grabbed the doorknob, turned it
and opened it
.

Her eyes widened, then blinked and that was all the chance
she had
.

A
man appeared out of a vine-laden doorway and
barreled through it and towards her. He seemed to
realize she wasn't a door a second too late. His body collided with
hers and she was pushed through the air as though she were nothing
more than a feather.

She sailed upwards and landed with a
bang
. If the descent hadn't
been painful enough, the man followed the same arc of motion and
managed to land on her right leg.

Before she even had time to rub it, the man jumped upwards,
turned around and in a voice that seemed to be almost in
slow-motion, yelled, "No
.”

Heather's eyes darted from him to the object of his study
and she realized her bedroom door was closing
.

It shut with a resolute bang and only the sounds of the
stranger's breathing resonated around the hall
.

Silence reigned for a few moments, before pique began to
rustle along Heather's nerves
.

Who the hell was this man
?

What was he doing in her bedroom and
how had he managed to cover it with vines of all things?

"Are you a squatter?"

It seemed to be the only possibility even if it
was
impossible and Heather was quite pleased with her line of
thought- better that than insane ideas. Heather didn't even want to
question where those vines had come from or why her plasterboard
walls had suddenly turned into those belonging to a
castle.

She was less pleased, when the man spun around, his
attention very firmly on her
.

It was only when his eyes caught hers, that Heather
realized she didn't want his attention on her
.

Unfortunately, it was far too late for
that.

Before she knew it, Heather found herself in a
chokehold
. His forearm was
covered with some kind of gauntlet and the metal bit into her flesh
and nearly crushed her windpipe. He'd already reduced the amount of
air she could inhale to a slither and her lungs were starting to
burn in reaction.

Her attempts to cry out were pathetic
. Mumbled garbles that he put a halt to, simply
by pressing his forearm all the harder against her throat. Her
entire being went into panic. He didn't seem to be doing anything
apart from choking her. He wasn't trying to rape her, she could see
a knife in his hand but he wasn't pressing it against her throat
and he didn't seem intent on stealing anything.

Why the hell was he here?

The thought was the only thing floating about her oxygen
starved brain
.

She clawed at his arm, but it was
useless
. The metal glove did
more damage to her than him and from the sudden dampness of her
hands, she realized she'd cut something because it was quite
evidently blood.

Her mind's eye conjured up the split second image she had
of her attacker
. And while she
longed to cling on to the thought that he was a squatter, or a
robber, even though they were implausible- what appeared to be the
truth was even more implausible. One of the Templar Knights
striding through your bare-bones bedroom didn't seem at all
possible and yet. . . . Here one was.

Either that or robbers had taken to wearing fancy dress to
take part in daytime thefts
.

The lack of oxygen suddenly made itself
known
. Her entire head felt
like lead and only the heavy pressure of his chokehold kept her
upright. When she felt sure she was on the brink of collapse, when
her body had said enough was enough and a swoon was the only way
she was going to survive without brain damage, she felt her eyes
flutter and her limbs start to twitch.

The buzz of the phone scared the hell out of her and
apparently him
. He let her go.
For what seemed like endless moments, she sucked in precious air
and never had Heather felt anything sweeter. She relaxed against
him, his body bracing her and keeping her upright. She never even
thought about scooping up the phone which stood a few feet away on
a stand. She never even thought about lunging for it and asking for
help. Heather was just relieved as hell that a quirk of the last
owner had been to have phones all over the place- one in the
kitchen, one in the downstairs hall, one in the upstairs hall close
to the bathroom and another in the bedroom. If not for that quirk,
lack of air might have killed her.

"Where am I, woman
?
Tell me now or I’ll slit your throat.”

The knife was no longer clutched in his
hand
, it was pressing against
her throat. So sharp and so cold that a shudder rose and fell down
the length of her spine. She cried out a garbled sob as the metal
pushed into her flesh and it gave way.

Regardless of the air she'd just sucked into her lungs,
Heather's air-starved brain had enough
.

Before fear, terror or panic could flood her veins, her
brain simply reacted to the threat in the only way it could- it
short-circuited
.

And Heather passed out
.

"Damned females
,” Fade
muttered under his breath. He removed the knife from her throat,
replaced it in the scabbard and hoisted her into his arms and over
his shoulder. She was so slight he barely felt her weight and
decided to do some exploring of his own whilst the female was
unconscious.

Turning back to the doorway through which he'd entered, he
opened and shut the door twice but no portal
appeared
.