“Writhing in pain, he forced himself to one knee. Where was he? Sure not on Columbus’s ship. The last thing he remembered was Dagonblud glaring at him from the capsized dinghy, and then--bam!--he was here. Pain rocketed through his head. He touched his face and then glanced at his fingers. Blood. Looking around, a huge room, noiseless and still, came into focus. Really old things that belonged in a museum rested on shiny, black pedestals, arranged like a giant chessboard. Stumbling to his feet, ...he gulped a mouthful of musty air and gazed up. Most of the ceiling was covered with a gigantic five-sided window. An image of a half bird, half lion decorated the butterscotch-colored glass. Blake’s throat tightened as he stared at the same design that was on the wooden box under Mr. Mancuso’s desk. Amber light cast menacing shadows across eccentric antiques and foreboding statues. “Welcome to my home,” a deep, syrupy voice boomed through the cavernous room. Blake staggered backward.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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