The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: LeAnne Pearson
raven black hair and piercing green eyes, gazing through a window at the cliff's edge below.
I must be in a very high-class facility for it to house such historical treasures as these and I'm so caught up in the rapture of the paintings, I barely notice when we stop before a set of towering oak doors.
A stout man is stationed alone just to the right of them, his pale eyes fixed forward, as though we're not here. His stance is upright and official, his attire business-like and smart. He's clearly some kind of guard and, through the haze of drugs, I wonder exactly what he's guarding – and from whom.
Just beside the door, bolted to the brick wall, is a hexagonal, shiny gold plaque with embossed copperplate font reading: ' Sir Alec Gray .'
'This is where we leave you for the moment.' Diana's soft voice chimes in my ear and a wave of panic sweeps over me. Inexplicably, with her I feel safe – cared for – and the thought of her leaving me with the intimidatingly titled Sir Alec Gray sets off a chain reaction with panic turning to fear, fear turning to hysteria.
'For the moment?' I squeak, my voice wobbly and uncertain. She nods, smiling sweetly.
'Just for the moment.' Her fingers uncurl from around my wrist and she turns to Malachy. With a firm nod of his blond head, the two of them retreat back down the corridor and into the lift. Diana glances back only once to shoot me a small, pitiful smile.
I take a deep breath and glance at the guard. He avoids eye contact, fixing his gaze on a spot over my shoulder, but reaches out with his right arm to pull the door open. I marvel at his strength; with virtually no effort, the heavy door swings on its hinges to reveal a dark, shadowy room. I stand hesitantly before the threshold, wringing my hands, staring at my feet and willing them to move.
'Shall I go in?' I ask the guard timidly. He gives me a sharp, impatient nod. With shaky legs, I step through the wide doorway, wincing as my trainers squeak on polished wood. The door slams shut behind me – the sound reverberating around the room – and I am alone in an eerie, dimly lit study.
Chapter Three
It's unnervingly quiet in the candle-lit study. The only sounds are the ticking of a grandfather clock and the distinct, unmistakable crashing of the sea on rocks. The room itself is large and rectangular; the décor grand, the furniture antique. The walls are lined with tall bookcases, running from floor to ceiling with elegant claw feet. A grand desk stands before the wall on the left, covered in papers and leather-bound books.
I'm undoubtedly alone, yet I tip-toe across the room to observe the view. The window is Tudor styled with black strips of rubber forming diamond patterns on the glass. It's intricate and beautiful, but not as beautiful as the mesmerising view beneath me.
The building stands on a tall cliff edge, the ferocious sea lapping at the jagged rocks bordering the deathly drop below. I know by the lift numbers that I'm on the fourteenth floor, but it's by no means the highest. From this awkward angle, the building looks like a fortress, with large stone bricks and arrow slit windows.
It's a clear night and the moon is full, its silver rays reflected on the water's surface. The stars are bright, burning like little balls of fire, and the sky appears to me a different colour – not black, not blue, but the darkest yet most vibrant shade of violet.
The view takes my breath away and I forget, for a moment, where I am.
'Magnificent, isn't it?' A quiet yet commanding voice startles me and I whip around to face the speaker, tensing my muscles and arching my back in poise to attack. Though my feral reactions are far from ordinary; they feel completely natural to me, and I stop to wonder just how badly the drugs have affected me.
An extremely tall man with shimmering silver hair in a neat buzz cut smiles at me, standing just in front of the desk. His handsome face
I must be in a very high-class facility for it to house such historical treasures as these and I'm so caught up in the rapture of the paintings, I barely notice when we stop before a set of towering oak doors.
A stout man is stationed alone just to the right of them, his pale eyes fixed forward, as though we're not here. His stance is upright and official, his attire business-like and smart. He's clearly some kind of guard and, through the haze of drugs, I wonder exactly what he's guarding – and from whom.
Just beside the door, bolted to the brick wall, is a hexagonal, shiny gold plaque with embossed copperplate font reading: ' Sir Alec Gray .'
'This is where we leave you for the moment.' Diana's soft voice chimes in my ear and a wave of panic sweeps over me. Inexplicably, with her I feel safe – cared for – and the thought of her leaving me with the intimidatingly titled Sir Alec Gray sets off a chain reaction with panic turning to fear, fear turning to hysteria.
'For the moment?' I squeak, my voice wobbly and uncertain. She nods, smiling sweetly.
'Just for the moment.' Her fingers uncurl from around my wrist and she turns to Malachy. With a firm nod of his blond head, the two of them retreat back down the corridor and into the lift. Diana glances back only once to shoot me a small, pitiful smile.
I take a deep breath and glance at the guard. He avoids eye contact, fixing his gaze on a spot over my shoulder, but reaches out with his right arm to pull the door open. I marvel at his strength; with virtually no effort, the heavy door swings on its hinges to reveal a dark, shadowy room. I stand hesitantly before the threshold, wringing my hands, staring at my feet and willing them to move.
'Shall I go in?' I ask the guard timidly. He gives me a sharp, impatient nod. With shaky legs, I step through the wide doorway, wincing as my trainers squeak on polished wood. The door slams shut behind me – the sound reverberating around the room – and I am alone in an eerie, dimly lit study.
Chapter Three
It's unnervingly quiet in the candle-lit study. The only sounds are the ticking of a grandfather clock and the distinct, unmistakable crashing of the sea on rocks. The room itself is large and rectangular; the décor grand, the furniture antique. The walls are lined with tall bookcases, running from floor to ceiling with elegant claw feet. A grand desk stands before the wall on the left, covered in papers and leather-bound books.
I'm undoubtedly alone, yet I tip-toe across the room to observe the view. The window is Tudor styled with black strips of rubber forming diamond patterns on the glass. It's intricate and beautiful, but not as beautiful as the mesmerising view beneath me.
The building stands on a tall cliff edge, the ferocious sea lapping at the jagged rocks bordering the deathly drop below. I know by the lift numbers that I'm on the fourteenth floor, but it's by no means the highest. From this awkward angle, the building looks like a fortress, with large stone bricks and arrow slit windows.
It's a clear night and the moon is full, its silver rays reflected on the water's surface. The stars are bright, burning like little balls of fire, and the sky appears to me a different colour – not black, not blue, but the darkest yet most vibrant shade of violet.
The view takes my breath away and I forget, for a moment, where I am.
'Magnificent, isn't it?' A quiet yet commanding voice startles me and I whip around to face the speaker, tensing my muscles and arching my back in poise to attack. Though my feral reactions are far from ordinary; they feel completely natural to me, and I stop to wonder just how badly the drugs have affected me.
An extremely tall man with shimmering silver hair in a neat buzz cut smiles at me, standing just in front of the desk. His handsome face
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