Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Hot.” His hand slips down my back and lands on my hip.
I gasp.
Shit. This was a bad idea.
The phone light catches a massive staircase spiraling up into darkness. Wrought-iron railings twist into deliberate shapes. Everything is designed to unsettle.
“Maybe they liked their privacy,” I muse out loud.
“Privacy.” He laughs, the sound too loud in all this quiet. “That's what we're calling it?”
I step away from him, deeper into the house.
My vision adjusts, picking out details. A grandfather clock that isn't ticking, furniture draped in white sheets, and doorways that lead to more darkness.
“Where's the light switch?”
“Probably in the murder basement.” He follows close behind. “Next to the bone saw and the—”
A click echoes through the space. Light floods down from that twisted chandelier, and now I can see everything. Black marble continues throughout, broken only by deep red rugs. The walls are paneled in dark wood and a dark green.
Everything is pristine.
Everything is waiting.
For what? That’s the question.
Two hours later, music plays through the speaker we found in a bedroom, and I'm typing on my laptop to find interior designers I could contact to come… spice the place up. Not a lot—I happen to like the way it is, even if Asher's pretending he doesn't.
“Hey, I never asked how you knew about Veilarath?” I call out from the sitting room, where I'm tearing open a box I found in the main bedroom. If I find anything about who owned this place, that would be something.
“Because I never told you.” Asher says from behind me.
I turn to see him perched against the archway that leads from the lounge to the kitchen. Opposite the lounge is another archway that takes you to the foyer and the front door. I think I like this room the most—all cozy fireplace, rich red leather couches, and art. No TVs, no distractions.
Something dark flickers across Asher's expression, a shadow that passes so fast I think I imagined it. He takes a long pull from his glass, amber liquid catching the firelight, before that trademark smirk slides back.
“Mount Crow.” He pushes off the archway, glass dangling from his fingers. “Been here once or twice to ride it.”
“Mount what now?”
He gestures with his thumb toward the kitchen. Through the windows, I can make out the silhouette of a massive peak rising behind the house, its summit lost in low-hanging clouds.
“That beast in your backyard. Mount Crow. Highest peak on Veilarath.” He drops onto the couch across from me, legs sprawled wide. “You know the story?”
I place my hands on my lap. “There's always a story.”
“Three mountains on this island.” He holds up three fingers. “Legend says they're named after the three people who discovered this place. Mount Grim, Mount Void and Mount Crow.”
I abandon the box, intrigue winning out. “Let me guess, they all died horribly.”
“Two of them died saving the island from some ancient evil or whatever.” He waves his hand dismissively. “But Void? Total douchebag. Fucks with your head all the way down. It's wild, lures you into believing you've got the route down and then wham, you're damn near launching off the edge. Regardless, Void is a bastard. Story goes he tried to seize the entire island for himself, turned on the rest. So when they all transformed into peaks, his got saddled with the shittiest conditions. Avalanches, blizzards, ice storms. The mountain's a prick.”
“What about Crow?” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “You jumped straight to Void being an asshole.”
Asher's focus shifts to the window behind me, where the mountain stands tall. Something changes in his expression.
“Crow's different.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up more than the wind already had. “Legend says he was the most powerful of the bunch. The guardian. While the others bickered about territory and ownership, Crow put up barriers, preparing for danger.”
“Sounds paranoid,” I joke, placing the papers I’ve already scanned back into the box.
“More like strategic.” His jaw clenches. “Mount Crow is the tallest mountain in the world, it’s just most people don’t know it. It’s elevation alone will murder you, but the route?” He shakes his head, focus waning. “Pure ice faces that'll rip you open on contact. Weather that turns on a dime. Crevasses that weren't there yesterday swallow you whole today. It's claimed more bodies than Grim and Void combined.”
I study the mountain's outline through the glass. Lost amongst the clouds, the curves of every flaw scream something menacing. “But people still try?”
Because people are stupid.
“Every year. Most turn back at base camp. The smart ones, anyway.” He leans back, shoulders tense. “Local families won't guide on Crow anymore. Lost too many, even from the halfway.”
“And Grim?”
He grins. “Grim's the tech bro of mountains. All engineered ramps and computer-controlled obstacles. They turned it into some augmented reality playground. Sensors track your speed, project holograms, shit like that. It's impressive if you're into that whole 'future of snowboarding', Cyberpunk thing.”