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Maybe this is a different version of him.
Perhaps one I’ll never meet.
Ahead of me is another table that holds some old sketchpads and a photo album. I make my way over to it and open the oldest-looking sketchpad.
The first thing I see are sketches of a very beautiful girl who looks to be no more than eighteen, maybe younger.
She’s on every page with different poses. Each sketch is striking and holds its own beauty. It’s not until I reach the middle of the pad that I realize the girl is the same as the sculpture because there are sketches of it.
She must have been a real person.
I open the photo album next and get my answer. She is indeed a real person.
An incredibly beautiful girl with jet-black hair and bright green eyes and an almost angelic presence. The wordGiselleis written at the bottom of the first picture, so I guess that to be her name.
There are pictures galore of just her. Some with her smiling and some with her posing. There are a few with her on the beach carrying roses.
The last picture is of Knight with his arm around her, but they both look like they were still in high school.
This girl must have been his girlfriend.
Where is she now?
From the amount of pictures, sketches, and the life-size sculpture, I can tell he must have not just loved her, but he wasin lovewith her.
The sound of footsteps outside cuts into my thoughts.
Shit.Someone’s out there. And I’m in here intruding on what I now see is definitely private.
Anyone nearby will know that someone is in here because the lights are on. They’d be able to see it from the windows.
The footsteps grow louder and closer. Frantically, I rush back the way I came in, but stop when the door handle turns.
Damn it. I don’t want to get caught in here, and on my first day.
I look to my left and spot another door. If that leads outside, it will take me back to the terrace.
I make a run for it and dash through the door without looking back to check to see if the person came inside.
This exit leads me back outside, but even though I’m near the terrace, I’ve gone right into one of the prickly bushes. It’s so dark I can’t see properly to make my way out.
Eventually I do, but not without scrapes on my arms and legs.
Just as I’m about to make my way over to the terrace, a low, deep growl that sounded like the wrath of God makes me stop mid-stride.
Then three pairs of glowing eyes emerge from the darkness, covering my lungs in a sheath of ice.
My body turns to stone as they come closer into the moonlit path and I realize the eyes belong to three enormous Siberian huskies.
The three of them have thick black fur, glass-like eyes, and now they’re bearing their long, sharp fangs at me and growling louder.
When I first arrived at the house, I thought of it as a lair in hell.
I have that feeling again and I recall the mythical story of Hades and his three-headed dog, Cerberus, who guarded the entrance to the underworld.
I’ll be damned if this isn’t exactly like that.
The moment I think that, I see him. Knight Grayson.
