Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) Read Online Free

onto the graveyard. The
architect of this church is buried just aside. Originally an
English Monk, Solomon Clarke came to our fair shores as an
immigrant.’ The tour guide motioned them on through the
church.
    Celeste fell to the back of
the group, taking a moment to stare up at the vault
again.
    To be honest, she wasn't one
for tours. She preferred exploring on her own. There was something
about the droning voice of the guide that made her
sleepy.
    She cast her gaze once more
to the ceiling, nose crumpling as she wondered what the star was
doing up there.
    ‘ Keep up,’ the tour guide
shouted, his voice echoing through the cavernous
building.
    ‘ Why isn't he buried in the
crypt?’ the wiry redhead shot up her hand again.
    ‘ While this church does have a
crypt, it was never used.’ The guide pulled one of the large,
stained, oak doors open, leading the group outside.
    A blast of heat buffeted
against Celeste's face, and she wiped the back of her hand over her
brow.
    ‘ Why wasn't the crypt used?’ the
red-head's voice was quick with interest.
    ‘ Solomon Clarke was, to put it
nicely, a pedant. He spent 20 years designing and building this
church. He obviously had some vision in mind, but unfortunately
that vision was never fully realized. He spent a lot of his time on
the crypt, but before the church was opened, he walled it off.’ The
guide removed his hat and passed this hand down his face, gathering
the perspiration as he went, wiping his hand on a handkerchief that
he drew from his trouser pocket.
    ‘ But it was recently opened,
right?’ the redhead continued. She stood very straight, body
balanced and poised. Though everyone else was reeling under the
heat, her clear skin looked pristine - not a bead of sweat
visible.
    She must be
used to hot weather. Celeste reasoned as she flicked her long ponytail over her
shoulder, exposing her sweaty neck to the air.
    ‘ That's right,’ the guide parked
the group in the relative cover of a giant, well-leafed
oak.
    Celeste found herself moving
around the side until she could press her back into the trunk,
resting against it. She wasn't good in heat. She hated it. If it
was cold, she could always wrestle into a massive jacket or turn
the heating on. But there was nothing you could do in heat like
this, save flop under an air con and wait for it to end.
    ‘ Will we be going to the crypt on
this tour?’ the red-head's eyes narrowed with obvious
interest.
    ‘ Unfortunately not. The crypt was
only opened up several months ago, when the church was released to
the National Register of Historic Places. Ever since then, it’s
been studied by a team of historians and archaeologists. Solomon
Clarke was an influential commentator on a number of ancient texts,
and this building is the only extant example of his foray into
architecture.’ The guide grabbed a water bottle from his bag,
unscrewed the white cap with his thick fingers, and took several
gulps.
    ‘ Is there any way to arrange a
tour of the crypt?’ the redhead stood with one hand on her hip, her
neck angled to the side.
    She seems way
too interested in this crypt. Celeste thought as she rubbed her eyes.
    ‘ You could contact the head
historian—’ the guide began.
    ‘ I'll get the details off you
after the tour,’ the redhead didn't wait for the guy to
finish.
    ‘ On with the tour then,’ the
guide said quickly.
    Celeste cast her eyes over
the redhead as she pushed off the back of the tree, the exposed
skin of her arms sticking to the bark unpleasantly. It really was
horribly hot. But seriously, that woman didn't seem to be sweating
at all. She simply looked perfectly poised, collected, and
ridiculously professional, considering this was just a tour
group.
    I wonder what
she does. Celeste
thought as she plunged a hand into her bag, searching around until
she found her sunglasses and crammed them on her face. It was such
a bright day that her poor eyes was starting to sting. Why she'd
decided to spend the