Wolfsbane Read Online Free PDF Page A

on the shoulder. Nothing serious. Get fresh batteries for your lights and I’ll get some candles, just in case. Come on.”
    In her grand’mère’s room, Janette picked up the journals and tucked them under her arm, watching while Louviere broke open the closet door.
    â€œClever,” he said, inspecting the sliding oak panels in the side of the closet. “Beautifully made, perfectly aligned.” He stuck his head out of the closet. “I will enter first,” he said to Janette. “You will not enter until you hear my call. Understood, Madame?”
    She nodded.
    A minute skipped by. “Come on,” Louviere called. “But don’t be shocked by what you see.”
    Janette stepped into the narrow walkway and was immediately seized by a feeling of claustrophobia. She played the beam of her flashlight in front of her and hissed at what she saw.
    â€œMy God!” Janette said. “Someone lived in here.”
    â€œOui, Madame,” Louviere agreed, adding. “For years, it appears.”
    The stench was sickening.
    â€œNot a very hygienic type,” Beaullieu observed, his nose wrinkling at the smell.
    â€œAre you the one who shot the . . . intruder?” Janette glanced at him.
    Beaullieu nodded. “Oui, Madame.”
    â€œHow did he appear to you?”
    The guard wore a confused look. “I . . . don’t understand, Madame.”
    â€œWhen you found him, what did he look like?”
    â€œHe looked dead, Madame Simmons. Just dead.”
    â€œHe fell instantly when he was struck by the bullets?”
    â€œOh, no, Madame. I see what you mean. No, he ran for perhaps two hundred more yards, then ducked, or fell, into the shrubbery at the rear of the house. It took us perhaps . . . five minutes to find him.”
    Louviere’s eyes were noncommittal.
    â€œAh,” Janette said. “I see.” What is it I see? she thought. This is insane. Then her grandmother’s words came to her. The old woman had written: “When I feel my days— in this form . . .”!
    The creature who attacked her had obviously changed forms.
    But how?
    Louviere had found a light switch in the quarters. The small living area was lined with shelves, the shelves full of books. Piles of newspapers littered the floor.
    Janette caught Louviere’s eyes; the man was staring at her curiously.
    â€œSomething, Louviere?”
    â€œI . . . don’t know how to say this without offending you, Madame.”
    â€œJust say it, Louviere; I’m probably thinking the same thought—or have thought it.”
    â€œThere is no way that man could have lived in here this long without Madame Bauterre knowing of it.”
    â€œI agree.”
    â€œThen . . . who was he?”
    Janette shook her head. “I don’t know.”
    â€œCamardelle,” Beaullieu whispered, the whisper rasping in the enclosure.
    â€œWho?” Janette questioned.
    â€œThis villa once belonged to the Camardelle family,” Louviere said. “Two centuries ago, at least that long ago.” He shook his head as if rejecting his own thoughts. “Impossible,” he said.
    Janette thought of the huge letter “C” embossed on the leather of the diaries. She said nothing about them. But Louviere had seen her pick them up from the floor.
    â€œWhat about the Camardelle family?” she asked.
    â€œThis particular branch of the family was driven out of France,” Louviere said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause . . . the people in the village just to the east of here thought they were . . . loups-garous. ”
    â€œWerewolves!”
    â€œOui, Madame. Madame?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œIf I may make a suggestion . . .”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œI would remove these books, the bed, all of this. Leave the cobwebs and the dust. If Polchet should find this passageway—and he might, although I doubt it—he might make an issue of it. But if