Alien Vengeance Read Online Free Page B

not long before, and her spirits rose.
    She went to the open door, and called a tentative, ‘Hello.’
    Nothing. No voice, no step, just silence.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Gemma caught a faint movement. She swung round, and saw a cat peering at her round one of the urns. It was a typically scrawny specimen, grey and white, and striped like a zebra, with eyes that looked almost twice the size of its pointed face.
    Gemma crouched down, and snapped her fingers gently. ‘Are you the welcoming committee?’
    The cat arched its back as if offended by the suggestion, and vanished in one sinuous movement.
    Gemma shrugged and rose to her feet. ‘That figures,’ she muttered aloud.
    She stepped over the threshold, and looked around. She seemed to be in the main room of the house. It was large and airy, and windows, which she suspected were a recent addition, filled the far wall, giving a spectacular view of the valley beneath. The furniture was wooden, and simply designed, and the cushions, rugs and hangings were all hand-woven. One rug, a sunburst in shades of crimson and gold, had been used dramatically as a wall hanging. An archway led through into a small dining room, and beyond this was the kitchen.
    It was clean, but very simple with few concessions to modernity apart from the small sink unit, and a tiny refrigerator and cooker, both run off bottled gas she noticed.
    There were lamps in all the rooms, suggesting that the Villa Ione had no electricity, and there was no sign of a telephone.
    There was a scrubbed wooden table in the middle of the kitchen, and in its centre, a folded sheet of paper anchored by a pottery candleholder.
    She picked it up and opened it out. Five typed words. ‘Make yourself at home, Gemma.’
    ‘Oh, thank you, I will,’ she said ironically. ‘I will also have to stop talking to myself, or it could become a nasty habit.’
    She opened the fridge. It might be small, but the interior was crammed with food, while the bottom shelf, she was relieved to see, was devoted to cans of beer and soft drinks. She opened a Coke and drank it gratefully, straight from the can.
    She kicked off her sandals and wandered back to the living room, enjoying the cool feel of the tiles under her burning feet.
    In a way, she could understand why Mike preferred to remain holed up here, rather than submit to the noise and bustle of Heraklion. She perched on the wooden arm of the sofa and stared through the window, wondering which of the stark-looking crags her brother was scrambling about on, looking for specimens, and wishing that just for once he’d given up the hunt to be there to meet her.
    Still clutching her can of Coke, she climbed the flight of wooden stairs leading out of the living room to the next floor. Straight ahead of her, a narrow passage led to glazed doors opening on to another terrace, equipped with sun loungers. Two large bedrooms, each with its own small bathroom, flanked the passage, again very simply furnished. Each room contained little more than a double bed, built on to a stone platform in a corner of the room, a large chest of drawers, and an alcove with a hanging rail behind a woven curtain, which presumably acted as the wardrobe. In addition, each room had its own small balcony.
    One room was clearly in use already, and in the other the bed had been freshly made up with an attractive blue-and-white bedcover in a Cretan design.
    Gemma fetched up her case, and extracted her toilet bag. There were towels, thick and soft and smelling of herbs, folded on a chair, inviting her to make use of them. Well, she thought, with a mental shrug, she’d been told to make herself at home, and she could think of nothing more homely than a shower. She felt hot, tired and sticky, and a little depressed, and showering would refresh her as well as helping to pass the time.
    If there was no electricity, perhaps there was no piped water either, and the expensive bathroom fittings were just for show, she thought