The marble was warm beneath my fingertips, as though there were a fire in the hearth. But there wasn’t.
The floor felt warm beneath my feet, too, even though I was wearing shoes.
I dropped my hand in front of the blackened insides of the fireplace, letting the weird phantom heat soak into my fingertips.
“Am I cracking up?” I whispered, straightening up again.
I felt a compulsion to make my way to the far side of the room. A decorative cabinet had been pushed up against a corner. Just like in the foyer, the carvings moved and twisted, exposing ornaments hidden within their depths. Faces and figurines. A chariot and a horse. A great oak tree.
Toward the side, the moving shapes and decorations swirled around one central point. Around a circle.
That circle seemed to have a pulse.
Memories surfaced, of the same thing in a different room.
Moving without intending to, I let my finger hover in the air. Slowly, not sure what would happen, if anything, I fit the pad of my finger into a tiny groove I hadn’t seen when I’d first inspected this cabinet.
I pushed.
Click.
The side of the cabinet popped open.
I stepped back, surprised. Excited.
I glanced around, but Mr. Tom wasn’t behind me this time. I pulled on the cabinet. It swung open on oiled hinges, revealing a small doorway into the darkness beyond.
I fished out my phone, staring into the dark depths, before switching on the phone flashlight and stepping forward.
Which was when the situation caught up to me.
When I was a kid, I would’ve rushed into that small space without looking back. I would’ve—and did—check out the bowels of the house with all the wonder of youth. And I’d nearly plummeted from a third-story trap door to my death.
Anything could be in that space. Bats. Poisonous spiders. Rats with huge fangs.
My phone’s battery said twenty-one percent and the time read 9:02. It was late, my battery was low, and this probably wasn’t a good idea. At least not at the end of the day.
I took a step back. Mr. Tom had said he knew about two passageways—was this one of them?
Curiosity pulled at me like a tow rope attached to a monster truck.
“Could be dangerous in there,” I reminded myself, staring into the depths.
A step forward.
Memories flooded me. Giggling. Pushing the button and gesturing for Diana to follow me. Running through the walls and coming out in another place altogether. It struck me that we’d never gotten lost within the walls. I’d never been turned around.
Two more steps.
I angled my flashlight, feeling the walls close in around me. Usually I wasn’t good in small spaces, but this was no problem for some reason. It felt safe. Comforting, almost.
“I’m definitely cracking up,” I whispered, the sound of my voice muted within the tight space.
The cabinet stayed open behind me, allowing in some additional light as I worked into the dark depths. When I turned a corner, though, external light was no longer needed.
Soft blue light filtered down from the corners by the ceiling, partially illuminating the tiny passageway, big enough for one and a half of me, or just one Austin. It provided enough light to see, although not so much that it blinded me to the surrounding darkness. It must’ve been recessed lighting of some sort. I shut off my phone light and noticed that no cobwebs stretched across the walls. Nothing skittered around my feet. It was just as clean as the rest of the house.
A little square room opened up off the passageway, which continued onward. On one side of the space sat a bench big enough for two skinny people. On the other side was an alcove with a picture frame at eye height and a little metal orb embedded within it.
Naturally, I stepped up to look through it. The orb was some sort of glass, and through it I got a fish-eye view of the space on the other side. Mr. Tom stood stock still in the middle of the small sitting room, one I had wandered through earlier. It had held little fascination for me compared with the rest of what I’d seen. He stared off at nothing.
“Yes, yes, quite,” he said.
I jerked back from the orb. Then pushed in closer again, because what in the holy hand grenades? Who was he talking to?
His hands were at his sides, so no phone, and there was no one else in the room. This wasn’t even a good talking-to-yourself mumble. The words had been crisp and clear, even from this side of the hidey-hole.
Mr. Tom was the last person I wanted to spy on.
Quietly, because if I could hear him so clearly, I assumed he could also hear me, I returned to the passageway and continued to explore. Another small room, this one looking into the laundry room. Moving through the house, I found the kitchen, the drawing room, and worked all the way around to the front sitting room across the foyer from where I’d started.
The fish-eye lens showed Mr. Tom’s back as he stared out the window.
“Yes, yes,” he said. “Quite.”
“What a weirdo,” I whispered, barely loud enough to hear myself. He didn’t turn around.
The small hallway through the walls kept going, and so did I, feeling a little like a rat running through a maze. Another corner led to a small stairwell. At the top, I noticed a latch in the floor, and a coil of rope next to it. An escape hatch, probably.
I stepped well over it so as not to fall through.
On the other side was a viewing orb, this one without a frame. The ceiling was low enough that I had to hunch a little. When I looked through the lens, I saw Mr. Tom standing at the front door, opening it. I hadn’t heard the door knocker or a door bell.
“Hello, Austin Steele,” Mr. Tom said, and a little flutter rolled through my belly. I wondered how big of an ass I’d made of myself last night. He’d texted this morning, so he couldn’t be too mad about anything. He’d made a joke about the rocks. And I hadn’t made a pass at him, so that was good.
Still, I’d been drunk and he’d been sober. I was sure I had plenty to be embarrassed about.
“I’m here to see how Jessie is getting on,” Austin said.
“Ah. Yes. That unbearable woman across the street filled me in. You hope Miss Jessie doesn’t acclimate to the house, is that correct?”
I lowered my brow, anger coursing through me. He hoped I failed? Why in the world would he hope that?
“Correct,” Austin said. “I think you know why.”
“Because you enjoy being the master and chief of the town, and don’t want to step aside for someone more powerful.”
Austin shifted his weight, either angry or uncomfortable. “It’s not about power. You know as well as I do that this house calls to the wrong sort of people. This town doesn’t need that sort, plain and simple. It’d be better if—”
Irritated and a little hurt, I moved away from the orb. The sound cut off as I did so. There had to be some acoustic trick to that, or maybe these viewing areas made use of modern surveillance technology. Whatever the reason, I didn’t need to hear any more.
A sick weight had settled in the pit of my stomach. I felt disillusioned. I’d thought I’d become a better judge of character over the years, but I’d clearly read Austin wrong. He’d acted like he cared about my opinion, my perspective—hell, he’d gone out of his way to make sure I got home okay. All of that, and he was actively rooting for me to fail. Was this some messed up keep your friends close and your enemies closer situation?
And why would he see me as a threat, anyway?
I huffed out a breath, hitting a T-intersection, and straightened all the way up as the ceiling rose higher. I chose right randomly, checked out a bedroom, felt creepy, and checked out the next.
This wasn’t right. These passageways shouldn’t be looking into bedrooms.
Dread filled me at the realization that this loop likely led to my bedroom, and Mr. Tom had access to it.
The third orb I came to had a handle just below it. I grabbed the handle, turned and pulled. Nothing happened. I pulled again, giving it a few little yanks. I pushed out a little on one of those yanks, which made me realize I’d been trying to open the door the wrong way.
“Dummy,” I muttered, pushing the large door open.
No, not a door. The back of a closet.
No shoes lined the shelves and no clothes hung on the hangers. I left the passageway open behind me, intending to return as soon as I got my bearings, and pushed out through the closet door.
A murky room greeted me, the hall light spilling in through the open door. Bright moonlight streamed in through the windows, the full moon a few days away.
A shape loomed in front of me. “Good evening, miss.”
I froze. My heart thumped wildly.
Mr. Tom stood in the center of the space, his hands at his sides, facing me.
Why the hell was he in this room at the same time I emerged from the secret passageway? How’d he even get here so fast from downstairs?
Sweat broke out on my brow. “Is this where you kill me and bury me in the yard?” I asked through a suddenly hoarse throat.
“Good heavens, no. What would be the point in that?” He walked away from me (thank God) but stopped near the door.
I took a step back. He was graceful, but how fast could he move? Could I get into the passageway and out of the house before he could catch me?
The light flicked on, showering the room.
A new dread overcame me. One I doubted I’d ever be able to shake as long as I lived.
Fourteen
“What is this hell?” I asked through suddenly numb lips.