Theibes House

By Ledia Runnels

After his wealthy mother dies, Thaddeus Theibes is furious when he inherits a pittance portion of the family's wealth compared to his older brother's lion's share. But when a besotted admirer bequeaths him two books of magical power, Thaddeus’ life will never be the same. And neither will the ill-fated denizens of Breton Washington.
Set on the windswept coast of Washington State, in the late 19th century. During a time when Jack the Ripper stalks the streets of London for his human victims and a madman cuts off his ear in pursuit of artistic genius, a gentleman from a prominent and wealthy family becomes the keeper of magic, created in the ancient past. At first, Thaddeus thinks he has acquired a great find to add to his antique book collection. Until mysterious and terrible things begin to happen to everyone around him and the finger of blame points directly at Thaddeus himself.

In Book Two of Keepers of the Ancient Tomes. Theibes House will have you shaking in your shoes. Look for Book One, The Wizard's Spell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ledia Runnels
• Release date: Oct 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370753185

Ledia Runnels

A writer since high school, Ledia Runnels has self-published several novels under Vrint Publishing as well as travel related and fact-sheet articles online. Some of the articles have appeared in USA Today online. Her screenplay "Sakura, Jewel of the Rising Sun" won the "Grand Award for Best Screenplay at Worldfest Houston in 1998. She also posts a blog entitled: “Mysterious Orient”. The author lived in the Tokyo, Japan area for three years. She now resides in East Central Texas near her two adult children and grandchildren

Book preview

Keepers

of the

Ancient Tomes

Book One

Theibes House

Ledia Runnels

Theibes House is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Ledia Runnels

This book is dedicated to my children,

Adrian and Shayla,

who never gave up on me,

to Mike, who protected

me and gave me confidence when the story

was in its fragile, infant stages.

Author’s photo by Jon Gifford at Native Texan Photography; The Woodlands, Texas

Sculpture behind the Author is by Otto Rigan, entitled: Fountain; located on Waterway Ave., The Woodlands, Texas.

Chapter One

Sleight of Hand

Washington State 1896:

Thaddeus was missing. The only sure thing Benjamin could put a finger on. Everything else was a web of confusion left for him to untangle as best he could.

When he opened the front door of the family mansion, a swirling darkness seemed to push at him. Benjamin hesitated, squinting to adjust his eyes. Only diminished light, coming from behind him lit the room beyond. Cast from two oil lanterns that hung from the hackney cab he had hired in town. The cloud-choked sky smothered the natural light otherwise cast from the full moon beyond. The horses, one white, one black stamped the wet ground as if in nervous agitation.

Benjamin’s breathing and the steady drip, drip, drip from his raincoat hem were the only other sounds that filled the otherwise empty silence. It pressed uncomfortably against him, while the musty scent of death mingled with dust particles that floated on the air.

He was not surprised to find his younger brother nowhere in sight. Still, it bothered him that there was no sign of a servant, nor the vermin that should have taken up residence since the humans vacated the premises.

It had been months since he received the message that no one in Breton had seen or heard the whereabouts of his younger brother and Thaddeus’ new bride. His own family and business concerns kept Benjamin from coming sooner to investigate. In the long run, someone had to be responsible!

Fists clenched, determined that nothing would deter him from his mission, Benjamin mentally pushed away the willy-nilly shiver that raced up his spine. He covered his nose with a monogrammed handkerchief and pushed past cobwebs hanging from the ornate door frame. The soft webbing brushed against his face giving the sensation that spiders crawled through his hair and over his clothes.

Suddenly frantic, he yanked the rain-filled bowler from his head, slapping it against his drenched-wet coat and gray flannel trousers. His startled gaze darted here and there, unable to see anything distinctly in the darkness.

A flash of light, perhaps it was a will-o-the-wisp, snapped his attention toward a corner of the room. Still, he found nothing, but air and an overactive imagination crawling through the crevices of his clothes and hair, though his scalp continued to tingle with the phantom touch of a thousand tiny arachnids.

Holding his breath, like a child afraid of the dark, he stepped farther inside the octagon-shaped foyer. His back toward the wind and rain outside. A slug of revulsion shivered through him as he pulled off his raincoat.

He felt unexpectedly exposed as he draped the dripping-wet coat and water-filled hat on to a brass coat rack that stood near the front door. Tarnished from lack of good housekeeping, the coat rack reminded him of a wooden skeleton with too many arms and no head.

The steady drip from the coat’s hem continued to echo dully against the dust-thick wood floor, matching the rhythm of the wind that whistled against the windows and roof making an eerie tick, tick that resounded throughout the dark space beyond. Like a wet dog, Benjamin shook water droplets from his hair, splattering them in every direction.

This place, this house, no longer felt like his childhood home. It reminded him instead of a mausoleum that only dead things or the insane would skulk through.

Not eager to have prying eyes peer into his private business, his first instinct was to close the double front doors so the nosy driver would have no more tales to spread through the village. But doing this would shut out the carriage lantern light that now showed the way.

As the door latch clicked into place, complete darkness enveloped the room. So thick it seemed to twist and coil around him. Terrified, he yanked the door back open. Damn the rain, damn the floor, damn the gossip, he needed the light.

Thaddeus-s-s, Benjamin hissed.

Angrier than he had ever been at his younger brother, and that was saying a lot, Benjamin’s gaze shot toward the three-story cathedral ceiling that lifted away into darkness. He growled under his breath, Where in hell are you, Thaddeus Theibes?

The answer came like mice skittering from buried corners of the mansion. Benjamin pivoted toward the sound. His boot heels clicked on the parquet floor echoing, eerily against the unseen walls of the hidden rooms beyond.

Standing at the threshold of the library, he would swear he felt warm breath blew against his ear as if someone stood beside his right shoulder, whispering words he could not decipher. He twisted around to face what was surely demons cavorting in the murky shadows.

For one terrible moment, his senses blurred, his throat constricted. He could not breathe. Oh, God, he could not breathe.

Who’s there? He gasped, hating the way his voice trembled with dread while forcing puffs of air out of his closed throat, incapable of drawing in a fresh breath.

Everything, what little that he could see of the room, began to blur. He was going to pass out. Oh, God, there was no one here to see his immediate distress, and he was going to choke. He was going to die—

While his conscious mind was still in control, Benjamin forced out the knot of fear that would have strangled him. He gasped in the saving air he needed. Breathing in and out, he waited for his head to clear. His face hot from exertion, fists clenched at his side, he drew on his courage to force away the creeping terror that had almost taken over his mind.

He turned back toward the book-lined room and pushed through the encroaching shadows. A tree limb scraping and tapping at the library’s bay window sent a shiver of dread through him. Still, he hugged his chest