As part of Berlitz's 'great plan', we split into pairs. No prizes for guessing who I was with. The budding co-ordinator herself, complete with extra irritation and a bucket load of stress. Go figure. As if creeping around a freaky mansion wasn't bad enough, I had to creep around the freaky mansion with her. I honestly think that even Proton is better company than her.
It didn't help that any sound we made was magnified by ten in the eerie stillness of the corridors. I half expected some old spirit lady to pop her ancient head out of a wall and demand to know why we were disturbing her eternal sleep. Now that was a scary thought.
As we continued to walk, I noticed that there were more petals leading to the enter door. I motioned to Berlitz and we went over. There were pictures hanging on either side and we looked at them curiously. One showed an old man seated on a dark red leather armchair, gazing out imperiously at us. The other showed a young girl, perhaps eight or nine, standing by a large four-poster bed with the man. She looked terrified, like she would prefer to be anywhere but there. I can relate to that. That's how I feel when Protons in the room. Minus the terrified part of course.
But the scariest thing about those pictures was that they seemed so real, like they were trying to get out of their frames. It made me wonder what their lives were like. I glanced at Berlitz and she mouthed the words 'keep moving'. For once I agreed. So we went through the door.
My first impression? Hell, that's a lot of doors. There were around five, each as small, dark and uninviting as the next. And we had no idea what was behind them.
A sudden rustle behind us made us leap back and let out muffled shrieks. We spun around and found ourselves face to face with Slate and Ketchum. I sighed in relief.
Ketchum looked around and voiced what we were all thinking.
"Which door do we pick?"
Slate looked at our mini group and frowned. There were four of us. That left just one door.
"each of you pick a door," I told them "and check it out. There are four of us and five doors. Leave the middle door till last, OK?"
A murmur of assent came from the others. I'm used to giving orders. And my orders are usually obeyed.
I turned my back on them and walked to the second to last door on the right. I took a deep breath and stepped in.
I found myself in a tiny little room. It had a small single bed in one corner, which was covered in old, moth-eaten blankets and the remains of pillowcases. There was a small window and on the right of that stood an ancient bookshelf, filled with huge, dusty old books that I couldn't make out. A portrait hung on the left of the window. Perhaps this was a guest room?
Another rustling noise reached my ears. I looked around and my eyes fell on the portrait. Was it just me, or were a pair of bright red eyes staring right back at me? But I didn't have time to figure it out. Another rustle, louder than before, startled me. I turned and saw a dark shape in the doorway.
"Roserade!"