The Blackhope Enigma Read Online Free

on. I have to close this floor.”
    Blaise wanted to pound the walls and shout for the guard to give him just fifteen more minutes. But he knew the man would say no and tell him to come back tomorrow.
    Come back tomorrow. That’s all I can do
. He shoved his sketchbook and pencils into his bag and left the Mariner’s Chamber, barely managing to mutter “Thanks” as he passed the guard and flew down the spiral staircase.
    Another guard on the ground floor ushered Blaise outside and locked Blackhope Tower’s main door. The wintry night air hit him like a hard slap.
    He trudged along the winding driveway, snow crunching underfoot. The only other person in the parking lot was a woman sitting in a car, its engine thrumming, but Blaise was so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice her.
    The woman glanced at him as he went by, then continued to watch the main door for a sign of her son, Dean, and stepdaughter, Sunni.

S unni was aware of someone standing over her. Her eyes fluttered open to find she was lying on the ground. A palm holding a few coins was thrust under her nose. The woman whose hand it was stared at her from under an elaborate hairstyle, woven through with pearls. Sunni cried out and pushed the hand away, but the woman did not blink or flinch.
    Sunni glanced down at a bundle of rags beside her and realized to her horror that it was a person’s legs; one knee jutting out sharply, the other just a stump wrapped in filthy cloth strips. Her heart thumped double time, sending bolts of fear shooting along her spine. She rolled away and scrambled to her feet, ready to sprint.
    The richly dressed woman was bending down to offer coins to a one-legged beggar. His face was grimy but smiling at the lady. Neither had moved.
    Sunni hugged herself and felt the familiar density of flesh and muscle under her skin.
I’ve seen these people before — in the painting. And now I’m in it, too
. The weightless, dreamy feeling she had experienced on the labyrinth had gone. Her feet were firmly rooted to the ground, and there was no way to fly off.
    The medieval buildings in the small square where she stood were bathed in a slanting lemony light. The air smelled of nothing. Not sea, nor smoke, nor food.
    There was no sound. Not a rustle or hum or breath except for her own.
    “Dean!” Sunni screamed to crack open the deadness of the place. It was as if she were shouting into a cupboard. No echo, no response. “Dean, Dean! It’s me!”
    She shouted his name until she doubled over, coughing. Where was he? How far could he have gone? Had he even heard her?
    Slowly Sunni walked back to the woman and the beggar. She touched the lady’s stiff dress. Then she gingerly touched her hand. Not exactly waxy, not exactly cold. Just not alive.
    Sunni moved through the square, around a pack of young men with fixed laughing mouths and some toothless old ladies soundlessly shouting at street urchins. She hunted for something, anything that looked like a way out. But there was nothing.
    She shivered. Although there was no breeze, there was also no heat from a real sun. She spoke out loud just to hear something. “Dean! How are we ever going to get out?”
    Get a grip, girl
. She stopped and faced a church with a tall spire.
Did I draw that earlier?
    She pulled her sketchbook out and found her rough sketch of the painting. If she had had time to finish copying it, she would have had a sort of map of the painting to follow, but she had hardly drawn anything of importance. At least she had marked out the church spire. Its tip pointed her gaze in the direction of something even more interesting: the castle on a hill overlooking the city. That must be the highest place in “Arcadia.” She flung her backpack over her shoulder and set off toward the hill.
    Dean sat curled up in a dark corner of a deserted alley and looked at his watch. Three thirty a.m. He had been wandering around for hours and hours. But it was still bright sunshine here.