Verse of the Vampyre Read Online Free PDF Page B

flattened out, then flexed as she tried for better purchase on the wooden floor. Her elbow worked its way over the edge, then the top of her head appeared.
    It was only a matter of seconds; then the paralysis of disbelief that had held the group, shattered.
    “Oh, my gosh!” cried Grace, springing forward to help. She had the notion that Roy Blade moved with her, but it was Derek Derrick beside her as her hands closed over Catriona’s wrists. Though distantly aware of people running, of footsteps pounding across the stage, of doors banging, of commotion and chaos, all her focus was on hanging on to Catriona.
    Catriona’s hands felt callused and unexpectedly strong as they locked on Grace’s wrists. For a beat Grace felt her own balance go; then Derek’s hand clenched a fistful of the dangling woman’s leather collar, taking her weight.
    “Catriona, my God!” Lord Ruthven helped them draw her up. His face was bloodless. “My God!”
    The others circled round, babbling shock and relief.
    Catriona shook her fiery hair out of her face and laughed breathlessly. “Quick reflexes, Grace. I owe you.”
    “Not as quick as yours.” Anyone else would surely have crashed through to the basement.
    Catriona’s eyes flicked to Derek Derrick’s. “Ta,” she said coolly.
    “Close call, eh!” He looked like Grace felt: badly shaken. Staring down into the trap, he called, “All clear. We pulled her up.”
    Roy Blade called back, his words muffled. A light went on from below.
    He had broken records in his charge down to the basement, but he would not have been in time, Grace realized. It was a chilling thought.
    “But how could it have happened?” Theresa was protesting, as the group milled, offering suggestions, comments and general opinions. A couple of men offered to put boards across the opening.
    “It’s an old theater.” Lady Vee’s voice trembled.
    Grace knelt, peering cautiously through the opening. “Good heavens, what a drop. It looks like it goes straight down to the basement.” She called, “Can you tell what happened?”
    Roy Blade’s negative response floated up.
    “They say the theater is haunted,” Theresa whispered. Derek Derrick chuckled and slipped an arm around her slim shoulders.
    “Balderdash!” Lady Vee said. “Grace, I can’t imagine what you hope to accomplish in that most unflattering position.”
    “Shouldn’t there be a lift or something?” When no one answered, Grace rose and dusted off her hands and knees.
    If someone wanted to stage an accident, a theater was an ideal setting. Even in a new, well-maintained theater, trapdoors, pits, balconies, catwalks and stairs offered a variety of deadly possibilities for falls and electrocution. And Grace had seen plenty of TV shows where victims had been conked by falling battens or counterweights. For that matter, real-life actors and crew alike fell off stages with distressing frequency.
    The Innisdale Playhouse was poorly lit, the wiring was old, and most of the stairs and scaffolds did not have rails. Why am I thinking like this? Grace wondered. Perhaps because from the moment she had walked in that night she had sensed a certain peculiar energy in the air, something she recognized from years of teaching. Mischief. That’s what it was. She had felt mischief in the room.
    “It could have been an accident,” she reflected aloud.
    “What do you mean!” exclaimed Lady Vee. She clutched Grace’s arm as though she needed the support. “Of course it was an accident!” The others chimed in, staring at Grace as though she had committed some social solecism.
    It was Catriona who said, after staring at Grace for a long moment, “I don’t believe in accidents.”
    She sounds like Peter, Grace reflected. I don’t believe in coincidence, he had said in much the same tone of voice.
    Catriona pushed through them, making her way backstage. The black curtains with their scarlet-stenciled masks of tragedy and comedy rippled in her wake. The