The lights in my childhood bedroom dim, and the hallway goes dark.
My heart physically aches, and I press my hand against my chest to hold myself together. Hot tears sting my eyes, and I clamp them tight against the pain. “I had a family, Asher. How did I lose them?”
Something jolts me from unconsciousness, and I suck in a panicked breath. For the first few moments of being awake, my heart pounds and my mind spins. Where am I? Not my bed. Not my room.
And then my reality catches up. Wait. Right.
Thisismy bed, and itismy room.
It feels like my brain is wrapped in cotton candy while anvils rain down inside my skull. I groan and roll out from under Asher’s arm. As comforting as his protective nature is, his arm is heavy, and could pin a person for eternity.
As quietly as possible, I slip out of bed.
Water. Tylenol. Maybe a priest. That’s the plan.
The house must sense my hangover vibes because the hallway lights come on but remain as a soft glow that doesn’t stab me in the eyes. “Thanks, house. Much appreciated.”
I walk barefoot down the hall to the washroom, surprised that a house this old doesn’t creak more. I’m still half asleep and feel the alcohol in my veins but know things will be ten times worse tomorrow if I don’t get some water and painkillers into me. I ease the door closed, empty my bladder, then check the medicine chest above the sink.
“Be kind to me, please, house.”
And it is.There’s a bottle of Advil on the top shelf and a Dixie Cup dispenser with cute pink cups on the vanity. I run the water cold, take the tablets, and refill my little cup a few times to wash them down.
“You okay, P?”
I open the washroom door to find Asher looking rumpled and concerned. He’s ditched his Jack Skellington costume and is standing in the hall in his boxers.
“Yeah, here, take these.”
“You’re an angel.”
I leave Asher to tend to his needs and start back up the hall toward my bedroom. I’ve only made it five feet when one soft piano note rings, clear as glass, from the parlor down below.
I freeze mid-step.
Asher pokes his head out of the open doorway. “That’s not creepy as fuck, is it?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
He lets out an exhausted sigh. “What’s the plan? Back to bed or investigate strange things that go bump in the night?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? My brain might be buzzing, but my body is just this side of being a total zombie. “The mysteries of Hallowind House have waited five years. They will still be here in the morning.”
Asher exhales, relief softening his shoulders. “Thank God. For a second I thought you were about to drag me on a scavenger hunt with three hours sleep.”
“Tempting. But no.”
He turns off the washroom light and then slings an arm around me as we head back to my room. “Good. Because you’re adorable, but you also look like roadkill.”
“Rude.”
“Just keeping it real.”
“Is any of this real?”
He grunts. “Hell if I know. This is your crazy train, Pops. I’m only along for the ride.”
CHAPTER FOUR
