10/28/2015

Story Orgy Creature Feature: Mum's The Word part 11 #storyorgy #mmromance #creaturefeature


Good morning friends and readers!
Welcome back to Monday with Story Orgy. Ready to see what happens next?




Mum's the Word

Chapter Eleven
Oct 12: "Death changes everything."

One promisingly tall lump turned out to be a vacuum cleaner stacked atop a drum set. Another was a dressmaker’s mannequin dressed in a beaded, glittery dress and sporting what Owen’s inexperienced eyes interpreted as a fortune in square cut diamond jewelry.
But none of the twelve rooms down the left side of the hall revealed a cigar store Indian. Nor, to Owen’s immense regret, did they find a mummy or even a sarcophagus hidden in any of the dark corners.
“We should have done this this morning,” He muttered to Izzy. “A quick run through for large objects--”
He froze, staring down to the central hallway over Izzy’s shoulder. A glimmer of light off in the far corner, where it should only be darkness.
“Owen?”
The professor had moved across to the opposite side of the hall and a door there.  The fairy light in the hall winked out, then back again. “Izzy… take the flashlight and follow the professor.”
“What?”
Owen nodded down the hall. Widened his eyes, tried with everything he had in him to convey without words that he wanted to check out the mystery door again. Sadly, Izzy only seemed receptive to psychic conversations that were sexually oriented.
“Gentlemen.”
“Yes professor.” Izzy scurried… actually scurried to the professor’s side with the flashlight.
Owen huffed in disgust. “I’ll be right back. I have to go to the restroom.” He didn’t wait for either of them to respond. Stepping out of the circle of the flashlight’s glow gave him second thoughts. But not enough.
“What? No.” Izzy protested, but Owen shook off his reaching hand.
“I’ll be right back. If you find something I’ll help carry it.”
Let Izzy keep the professor on track opening doors that led to rooms full of dusty nothings. Owen was convinced that if there was anything in this building worth finding, then it was worth hiding behind a fake door in a wall hidden behind junk. And clearly someone else thought so too.
But who?
He slipped as quietly as possible down the hall in the dark, out into the wider central hallway. The light in the back was more visible now, a defiant fuck you to the darkness… a siren call to his curious nature.
Back in the corner behind the debris pile they’d investigated that morning, the long thin line of light provided a basis for his investigation. The tools… that was limited to a knock off Swiss army knife he’d thought to bring along. Owen removed the cool bit of metal and plastic from his pocket, and opened it to the thin screw driver blade. Reaching up high, he wedged the blade into the crack and pried it forward. The panel didn’t move.
There had to be a latch somewhere. Even though there was no handle. Leaning close, he studied the crack, looking for the telltale spot of darkness that would give him access.
On the other side, he couldn’t help but notice shadowy movement. It was enough to give him pause, but not enough to stop him. He’d deal with the movement… if and when he got the door open.
Halfway down the wall the screwdriver hit the latch with what sounded like an incredibly loud clink. With the latch released, the door swung inward before he could catch it. Owen stepped into a space more dimly lit than that line of light had indicated.
The sense of motion was explained when he identified the light source as a candle flame. One of those large, thick wax candles with three wicks stood on a wooden crate in the center of the small space. The ones he’d seen before had been scented like vanilla and other perfumey things, but this one was odorless. There wasn’t anything else in the room though. Just that crate, the candle and the flickering flame.
At first he was disappointed, but when his eyes adjusted and he was able to see behind the candle glow into the dim shadows, he was able to pick out something that made his heart race. Almost directly opposite was another door. Other than the shadow there’d been no attempt made to hide this one. It was just as much heavy wood and industrial fixtures as any of the dozen they’d already opened that night.
Only this door boasted a tarnished brass name plate reading Horace Gould Department of Archaeology.
The name was familiar from the letters they’d found.
He glanced over his shoulder. The faintest noises from hall c indicated that Izzy and the professor were still searching room by room. How much time did he have?
Did it matter?
Owen entered the room, one hand holding the door open. He couldn’t leave it open. While it would be good to have Izzy follow him, no way did he want Dr. Gregoire discovering the former head of the archaeology department’s office.
The inside of the door had no handle either.
No matter. He could use his knife to open it again. Cautiously, he let it close and picked up the candle. Too bad he’d given his flashlight to Izzy. The door to the professor’s office wasn’t locked. The knob turned easily and the door made no noise as it glided toward him.
In retrospect that should have given him pause, but by then it was too late.
The candle…
The oiled door hinge…
All of it spoke to him too late.
The pain exploded in the back of his skull seconds after he stepped into the old office, but not before the candle flame flickered over brilliant colors, jeweled enamel and gold.
A sarcophagus. The sarcophagus changed everything.
He’d found it.
The second blow drove him to the floor.
A third struck brutally below his rib cage. Owen sucked in a breath and tried to roll away. He crashed into something, setting off a train reaction of small thuds and earned himself another painful blow. This time his vision blurred.
Out of focus… surely that was a white tennis shoe not a gauze wrapped foot swinging in for a third blow?
He didn’t have time to convince himself before it all went dark. But it had to be a shoe.

It had to be. 


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