Father Panic's Opera Macabre Read Online Free
of the room. Neil's lungs tightened, he could feel himself losing the ability to breathe in and out.
He turned toward the door, forcing himself to move slowly and carefully, as he had learned long ago- sudden exertions only made matters worse. Now he felt a little dizzy, lightheaded, as if he'd just been hit by a very powerful nicotine jag. This was something Neil didn't associate with asthma. His thoughts were foggy and vague, but he wondered if it was an effect of the particular fungus in that room-not mildew, it was something else, something new and deeply unpleasant to him-and he could imagine invisible toxic clouds of it being sucked in as he breathed, quickly absorbed into his blood, and then sluicing chaos into his brain.
Neil reached for the doorknob but his hand seemed to wave and flap listlessly in the air. Wow-the word formed in his mind with absurd calm and detachment- he couldn't remember the last time he had a reaction this strong and swift. He might even fall down.
But then Marisa opened the door and smiled at him.
"You look pale," she said, taking his arm in hers again.
"I think I'm just a little tired, that's all," Neil said. "I did a lot of walking and driving today before I got here."
"Dinner is later, but we'll have some wine and snacks now."
"That sounds very good."
She led him down the long corridor toward the rear of the house. There were any number of doors on either side, but all of them were closed. They passed three more staircases, one that went down on the left side, then farther on another that went down to the right, and at the back, one more that led to the upper floors.
"Too many rooms," Marisa said, almost to herself. "It's impossible to take care of all these rooms anymore. Most of them are closed and never used. There's no need for them."
Neil nodded sympathetically. "Do you have any brothers or sisters? I mean, aside from the brother you mentioned."
"No, only Hugo. That's part of the problem. He's away on business often and has no interest in running things here. Neither do I," she added in a lower, almost conspiratorial tone.
A familiar story, Neil thought. He couldn't imagine someone like her remaining here for very long, even if it was her family home. A bright young woman who had recently finished her university degree-work and life and love were all to be found elsewhere now, out in the world.
He felt better as they stepped outside, his breathing was almost back to normal. They walked to a stone patio with a weathered wooden table and several chairs. It was located a short distance from the house, at an angle that allowed them a very attractive view of the sharp ridges and deep vales that unfolded in the distance.
He also saw, directly beyond the yard around the house, a gradually rising series of terraces and still more outbuildings. Men were working the plots, kids were playing, and Neil occasionally caught a glimpse of a woman in a woolly jacket and long skirt peering out of one hut or another.
He and Marisa sat at the table. A bottle of red wine and two crystal goblets had already been placed there, and two older women soon appeared to set down platters of food. Neil knew immediately from their features that they were not related to Marisa.
There were slices of cold sausage, black olives, cuts of three or four different kinds of cheese, something that looked like pate or a meat pudding, a couple of loaves of bread, butter, a bowl of dark olive oil and a few jars and dishes that contained unknown sauces and spreads. The wine, which Marisa said they made from their own grapes, was a dark ruby-maroon in color and had a little too much of a tannic edge, but it was drinkable.
"Robusto," Neil managed to say.
Marisa was no longer wearing sunglasses. Her eyes were deep blue, frank, open, curious-perhaps he was reading too much into them this soon, but they were so easy to gaze at. The breeze played
He turned toward the door, forcing himself to move slowly and carefully, as he had learned long ago- sudden exertions only made matters worse. Now he felt a little dizzy, lightheaded, as if he'd just been hit by a very powerful nicotine jag. This was something Neil didn't associate with asthma. His thoughts were foggy and vague, but he wondered if it was an effect of the particular fungus in that room-not mildew, it was something else, something new and deeply unpleasant to him-and he could imagine invisible toxic clouds of it being sucked in as he breathed, quickly absorbed into his blood, and then sluicing chaos into his brain.
Neil reached for the doorknob but his hand seemed to wave and flap listlessly in the air. Wow-the word formed in his mind with absurd calm and detachment- he couldn't remember the last time he had a reaction this strong and swift. He might even fall down.
But then Marisa opened the door and smiled at him.
"You look pale," she said, taking his arm in hers again.
"I think I'm just a little tired, that's all," Neil said. "I did a lot of walking and driving today before I got here."
"Dinner is later, but we'll have some wine and snacks now."
"That sounds very good."
She led him down the long corridor toward the rear of the house. There were any number of doors on either side, but all of them were closed. They passed three more staircases, one that went down on the left side, then farther on another that went down to the right, and at the back, one more that led to the upper floors.
"Too many rooms," Marisa said, almost to herself. "It's impossible to take care of all these rooms anymore. Most of them are closed and never used. There's no need for them."
Neil nodded sympathetically. "Do you have any brothers or sisters? I mean, aside from the brother you mentioned."
"No, only Hugo. That's part of the problem. He's away on business often and has no interest in running things here. Neither do I," she added in a lower, almost conspiratorial tone.
A familiar story, Neil thought. He couldn't imagine someone like her remaining here for very long, even if it was her family home. A bright young woman who had recently finished her university degree-work and life and love were all to be found elsewhere now, out in the world.
He felt better as they stepped outside, his breathing was almost back to normal. They walked to a stone patio with a weathered wooden table and several chairs. It was located a short distance from the house, at an angle that allowed them a very attractive view of the sharp ridges and deep vales that unfolded in the distance.
He also saw, directly beyond the yard around the house, a gradually rising series of terraces and still more outbuildings. Men were working the plots, kids were playing, and Neil occasionally caught a glimpse of a woman in a woolly jacket and long skirt peering out of one hut or another.
He and Marisa sat at the table. A bottle of red wine and two crystal goblets had already been placed there, and two older women soon appeared to set down platters of food. Neil knew immediately from their features that they were not related to Marisa.
There were slices of cold sausage, black olives, cuts of three or four different kinds of cheese, something that looked like pate or a meat pudding, a couple of loaves of bread, butter, a bowl of dark olive oil and a few jars and dishes that contained unknown sauces and spreads. The wine, which Marisa said they made from their own grapes, was a dark ruby-maroon in color and had a little too much of a tannic edge, but it was drinkable.
"Robusto," Neil managed to say.
Marisa was no longer wearing sunglasses. Her eyes were deep blue, frank, open, curious-perhaps he was reading too much into them this soon, but they were so easy to gaze at. The breeze played
Readers choose
Edith Maxwell
Kaitlyn O'Connor
What a Cowboy Wants
Victoria Michaels
Émile Zola
Lisa Shearin
Marie Osmond, Marcia Wilkie
Lauren Fraser
Don DeLillo
Netta Newbound