AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Time is our most valuable resource. I don’t intend to waste any more of it.” I opened the door and climbed out, only to find Imogen was not doing the same.
Sheep pressed in against me, rubbing their barnyard smells all over my dress.
I gestured for Imogen to join me. “Come.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“It’s not that difficult. Scooch over here across the bench seat and climb out the open door. I’m holding it for you right now. Or, if it suits your fancy, climb out the door right beside you. Either option is perfectly reasonable. Get to it.”
“No.”
I leaned my forehead on the door frame, exasperated. “Why not, Imogen? The walk won’t bethatlong.” I peered in the direction we’d been driving. The museum was visible over the top of the hill. “It’s only half a mile at most.”
“It’s not that,” Imogen said. She leaned toward me, holding tight to the seatbelt across her chest. She whispered, “It’s them.”
Time was ticking by.
“Them who?” I asked, beginning to lose my patience.
“The sheep. Look at their long, creepy faces. Look at their sideways black eyes. It’s like they can see straight into my soul. What if they steal it?”
“Steal your soul? That’s ridiculous.”
Baaaaaa.A particularly frisky fellow bellowed beside me, then gave my hip a jarring headbutt.
Imogen shook her head more emphatically than before.
I couldn’t waste any more time on this. “Fine,” I said. “Meet me at the museum.”
“Museum?” she asked.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.“The castle.”
I shut the door and pressed my way through the throng. The sheep bleated and pushed back against me. My progress was slow and steady, and eventually I made it through the herd.
The scents of dirt and feces followed me as I started up the driveway toward the museum. I was sure at least some of that scent belonged to my soiled dress. A few steps farther, and I spotted white shapes out the corners of my eyes.
Instead of letting me go, the sheep were following me.
At least that cleared them from the road enough that Imogen was able to follow in the car. I would have steered the herd farther from the road, except gnarled trees and thick briars flanked both sides of the path, leaving nowhere to actually lead the sheep except for forward. Honestly, I was surprised Imogen preferred to stay in the company of Noah, the possible murderer and definite weirdo, over walking, but to each her own.
I led the parade up the drive, and eventually reached the top. The building was old stone, with two turrets that had likely driven Imogen’s castle nomenclature. I trotted up the stairs and paused by the door. There, I glanced around for any sign that Silas had beaten me here, and when I found none, I knocked.
As my knuckles brushed the wood, a strange sensation settled over me. There was something off about the building, though I couldn’t say for sure what it was.
No one answered, so I knocked some more. Still, there was no answer. I tried the handle and found the door locked. If this building truly acted as a museum, there was no signage to declare it so. It also seemed strange they would not be open to visitors. Perhaps they had limited hours.
I heard a car door and some huffing, before Imogen called after me, “What if the castle’s king isn’t home?”
There appeared to be no sheep between us. Noah drove off, leaving Imogen and me to complete our task.
“Owning an old building does not make one a king,” I said. “If Cornelius Kurnbottom was royalty, it would have been noted in the file.”
“King of his own castle at least. If I one day own a castle, I’ll expect to be called queen.”
I watched her expression for any sign that her comment was intended as a joke. The overly emphatic smile she cast back offered me no clarity.
“Also,” she said, “Cornbottom? Sounds like a fake name. I bet that guy made it up, because hereallyloves corn. Or, it’s for real, and his ancestors were corn hoarders to get a name like that. Can you imagine the piles they’d have to keep? Stacked on the bed, under the bed, worn as hats.”
