Hellsinger 01 - Fish and Ghosts (P) (MM) Read Online Free Page A

far off in his description of Hoxne Grange. The edifice—no other word really suited the place—rose up over a roll of hills, its solid, tall chimneys jutting above the redwood stands surrounding the landscaped portion of the estate. Made of gray brick, the structure dominated the greens around it, its solid three-storied W shape thrusting into the overcast sky and demanding their attention as Wolf’s SUV cleared its wrought iron gates. Arched windows cut through the stern brick, their form echoed in the covered walkways connecting the building’s wings. The ground ran to evergreen bushes in the front, sculpted into oval shapes to mimic the softening lines of the home’s solid Gilded Age architecture.
    It was a place where people were born not only with a silver spoon in their mouths but rather the entire silverware set and a teapot or two thrown in just for shits and giggles.
    Wolf loved it on sight, even if he had an overwhelming urge to drive around to the back and knock on the servants’ entrance to be let in.
    “ That , Matt, is considered a cottage,” Wolf informed his tech. “Only thirty rooms or so. Depends on how you counted them. Some of these places run to over seventy.”
    “Who the hell can clean that shit?” Gidget whistled and counted off the chimneys. “Christ, they’ve got like, ten fireplaces.”
    “Might be more. The chimneys sometimes support two fireplaces on stacked floors,” he replied. “Wouldn’t want the family to get cold.”
    The long driveway circled to the front door, wrapping around a fountain embellished with an enormous trio of fish taken right off a pirate’s treasure map. Blackened with age, the piscine sculptures spouted out delicate sprays of water into the marble bowl below. A side road led off the main driveway to the back of the house where Wolf assumed there was a garage, but glancing back at the equipment they’d piled into the car, he wasn’t quite sure where they’d need to unload.
    “Okay, kiddies.” Pulling up to the main entrance, he put the SUV into park and unsnapped his seat belt. “Let’s go find us some ghosts.”
    Up close, the Grange was even more intimidating. Twenty-four rooms or not, Wolf figured the architect probably had a different idea of bedroom space than he did. When he opened the front door to let Gidget and Matt in first, they both dropped their voices to an awed whisper, and his suspicions about spatial relativity were confirmed once he stepped over the threshold.
    He was pretty certain the Grange’s front hall could have swallowed up his apartment building and still left enough space to house a Chinese restaurant and possibly a few branches of Starbucks besides.
    “Holy fucking shit.” Matt turned to whisper at Wolf. “And this is a cottage?”
    “So they say.” He hated that he lowered his voice and cleared his throat, nodding to the pigeonhole and grand swerve piece someone had the good luck to scavenge from one of San Francisco’s grand hotels. Certainly not something that came with the house, the nearly eight-foot counter and back piece held its own in the Grange’s cavernous foyer.
    As did the blond man talking to himself behind it.
    An explosion of flowers coming out of something porcelain and expensive blocked the young man, but Wolf was able to catch a peek through the artfully arranged rainbow of spiked flowers and pink-hued roses. Messy was a word Wolf would have used if fucking gorgeous hadn’t first come to mind. Even the messy was merely a casual disregard to the polish one would expect in a multi-million-dollar mansion rich people called a cottage.
    The blond hair was a dirty mix of mica flecks, gold, and mink, running to darker hues underneath. Tousled around an aristocratic face, it framed high cheekbones Gidget would be sighing over if given the chance and an aquiline nose obviously unmarred by any sibling’s stray fist. He looked up from what he was doing, and Wolf would have sworn his eyes went black with