Angel Manor (Lucifer Falls Book 1) by Chantal Noordeloos Page B

her body. Logan was still talking about the house, his eyes sparkling as he spoke.
    “Though I have to admit, so far I’ve been pleasantly surprised. This house looks like a sturdy old girl.” He tapped the side of a wall with his free hand, the other still wrapped around hers. A sudden jolt of static electricity ran from Logan straight into Freya as his palm connected to the plaster, and Freya pulled her hand back in reflex. The house shuddered on its foundations, a tremor that Freya had felt before.
    “Holy shit!” Logan cupped his nose. “Terrence, shine a light here. I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I think it gave me a bloody nose.” A light beam illuminated his face, and Logan looked at his hand. A generous splash of blood covered his fingers, and Freya’s hand automatically went to her own nose. Her hand came back red. She looked around to see if anyone else was bleeding and, to her horror, saw both Oliver and Bam dab blood from their nostrils. Not again. Her blood ran cold, but Freya didn’t want to come across as hysterical, so she fought to keep her face even.
    “You’re bleeding too.” Logan stepped closer, grabbed her chin and pushed it up to inspect her face. “Did you feel that?”
    “Yes.”
    “Mental.”
    “It’s happened to us before.” Bam’s voice was high with panic. “When we first arrived, we touched the building outside, and we all got simultaneous nose bleeds. It’s happening again.” She held her hand up into the light, streaks of blood still visible on her upper lip, and there were tears in her eyes.
    Her words seemed to freeze time for a second; no one moved or spoke, and all eyes were on Bam. It was Lyndon Farrow who spoke first.
    “That’s just fucking spooky. Like the kind of shit you see in horror movies.” Some of the guys exchanged glances.
    “If this place is haunted, I’m out of here,” Lyndon said, his hands moving with agitated gestures as he talked.
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Lyndon.” John’s voice had the stern, no-nonsense tone of a drill sergeant.
    “Awww, is wittle Wyndon scawed of ghosts?” Roger pouted his lips and fluttered his eyelashes at Lyndon, who responded by punching him in the shoulder.
    “Shut up!”
    “Come on, guys, don’t fool around.” Logan glanced around the group. His stare was met with silence, and Freya wasn’t sure how to react herself. She wanted to be dismissive again, but wasn’t sure if she could a second time.
    “Let’s see what work needs to be done, okay?” He wiped his nose with a paper tissue and handed Freya one too. Bam had her own pack and she shared them with Oliver. Freya was amazed that Bam appeared to be taking the bloody nose so well, acting very calm as far as she could tell, but she didn’t trust it one bit. She’d heard the panic in her voice only minutes before, which left her wondering if Bam was just afraid of Oliver’s wrath.
    Oliver, who seemed rather unperturbed by the whole thing, grabbed one of the builder’s lights and beckoned to Freya. “Let’s go check out how many rooms there are.”
    Freya nodded, deciding this was neither the time nor the place to push the nosebleed matter, and followed Oliver. She looked back at Logan and smiled at him. He returned it with a small salute with his index and middle finger. The young crew seemed to be ill at ease after the nosebleed incident, but the strict voice of John Norris cut through the stillness of the East Wing, forcing the boys to focus on their tasks.
    There were fourteen rooms on the bottom floor in total, all various sizes and in various states of disrepair. Someone had painted the windows black, and the light from outside struggled to get through the parts where the paint had peeled, casting eerie shadow patterns across the floor. The most unnerving of all was an old dining room. The floor was covered with broken crockery lying in shards across the decaying carpet. A broad antique table, which looked to be in rather decent