Spirit Bound - Christine Feehan [92]
Heavy drapes covered the doors, a big contrast to the other two much more inviting studios. Very carefully he put his palm an inch away from the outside of the glass, feeling the room. His warning system went crazy, every nerve, cell and muscle in his body shrinking back. His heart went crazy, accelerating, and his lungs burned for air. Even the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The power of the elements had amplified his natural radar, but even taking that into consideration, there was something extremely dangerous in that studio.
Stefan let his breath out slowly. What could she be hiding in this studio? The danger didn’t feel like treachery, or conspiracy. He passed his hand slowly over the door, a slow inch-by-inch inspection, paying particular attention to the frame. There were no hidden trip wires he could detect, nothing that would alert her to a break-in. He laid his palm over the lock, at first not touching the door handle. No heat came off the metal. He very lightly wrapped his hand around the knob. The lock responded to him, welcoming his touch, sliding open for him without a push. The door didn’t open.
He had never come across a lock that didn’t open at his will. Never. Security systems were nearly as easy. But even with another light push, the door didn’t open for him. Judith had double-locked this studio. She really didn’t want to chance anyone getting inside. His suspicious nature kicked into high gear. What in the hell could she be hiding from the world? From him?
He ran his hand once more along the frame of the door. At the bottom of the double doors he felt the slightest of resistances and knew he’d found the second lock. She had a floor lock. Ordinarily, it would be impossible to get around the lock without cutting the glass or going in through a window. He glanced at the bank of windows used strictly for ventilation. No one could slip inside those narrow openings. There were dozens of windows, long and narrow, opening to allow air through, but impossible for a child, let alone a grown man, to slip through. She’d planned this studio meticulously, making certain no one could get inside without her knowledge or consent.
He crouched low and laid his palm over that slight resistance. Patience mattered. Concentration and focus were essential. He felt familiar warmth travel down his arm and once again he flexed his fingers. His hand warmed, went perfectly still, hovering over the spot a moment before slowly descending to rest over the lower frame. Still the lock remained stubborn. Judith’s will was strong, at work here. Stefan pushed the thought away and focused wholly on the mechanics of the lock. It was a simple enough lock, but very effective. A small slider turned the metal clasp, preventing the door from movement. Once he “felt” the mechanism, he could maneuver it open.
Once again, before he slid the French door open, he checked for an alarm system that would alert Judith that someone had invaded her secured studio. Using extreme caution, he turned the handle and opened the door. The heavy drapes, as black as midnight, blocked his view, but he could feel the blast of rage, an explosive energy that leapt toward him. Again, every cell in his body rebelled. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, his pen light in his teeth, the only relief in the darkness of the room.
Stefan drew the drapes aside enough to allow him entrance. He found breathing difficult, the air so thick with rage it was impossible to draw a full breath. He moved the light around the room for a quick inspection to assure himself that he was alone, although his radar had already told him of that. Nevertheless, he always double–and triple-checked when it came to preparation and safety. Attention to detail, no matter how small, was the one thing that kept him alive over the years.
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