The tension in my silence hangs thick in the air. Before either of us can say another word, Agatha enters the room, carrying a tray with my grilled cheese on it. She sets it down on the small side table next to my chair without a smidge of a smile. “Here you go,” she mutters.
“Thank you, Agatha,” I reply, my voice wavering slightly. I try to focus on the food, hoping it will provide some distraction fromthe disturbing way Lyle is watching me. His eyes flicker over my features, like he’s taking in every detail with an alarming meticulousness.
I take a bite of the sandwich, but the taste is too bland, cardboard-like. I reach for the ketchup and squirt a generous amount onto my plate before dipping the sandwich into it. As I chew, I continue to feel Lyle’s eyes on me. It’s unrelenting.
Agatha slips out through another secret doorway—a hidden exit just behind a bookcase. Before I can ask about it, the library door bursts open and Hayes rushes in. “Hey, where in the world have you been?”
Relief washes over my entire body.
“You left me to fend for myself at a spa. When have I ever enjoyed that kind of Saturday?” He’s right. Hayes isn’t the spa type—he’d rather jump out of planes, climb mountains, camp in the desert, or wrestle an alligator. “Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?”
I glance down at my phone, then back at him. “I did. I’ve been trying to text you all, and none of you texted back.”
“The cell service here is horrible,” Lyle murmurs, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “Sometimes screaming bloody murder is the only way to get people’s attention around here.”
Chapter
Ten
“That guy is seriously the creepiest dude I’ve ever met,” Hayes whispers as we walk toward the library door.
He has no idea. I glance over my shoulder, and my breath catches in my throat. Lyle’s eyes flick up to meet mine, dark and off-putting. He reaches for my dirty plate, dragging his index finger through the leftover ketchup, swirling it around and around. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he brings his finger to his lips and licks it clean. A queasy feeling bubbles in my stomach, but I can’t look away. His eyes are half-closed in what looks like sick pleasure. Then to my horror, he lifts the entire plate and holds it close to his face.
Oh, no. Gross.What the fuck?
His tongue, long and narrow, almost serpent-like, snakes out and laps up the remaining ketchup. It smears all over his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose. When he pulls the plate away, his face is a macabre canvas of horror. Ketchup seeps from the corners of his mouth, gruesomely red against his pallid skin. The whole act is grotesque, intimate in a way that makes my skin crawl.
He twists his mouth into a horrifying grin, his teeth stained bright red.
I want to throw something at him, scream at him to stop. The condiment on his face looks like fresh blood—his smile a sickening glint of pleasure. He licks his lips, smearing more ketchup across his upper lip and chin, slow and deliberate.
Jesus, that’s disgusting. I cling onto Hayes’s arm, quickening my pace.
Out in the hallway, the lights flicker overhead, casting startling shadows that dance along the walls.
“Did you see the way he was watching you eat?” Hayes asks with a chuckle.
I tilt my head to look up at him as we walk, trying to steady my breath. “No, I…he makes me feel uncomfortable.” I don’t want to tell him what I just saw. Lyle was just trying to mess with me. Make me feel agitated and to frighten me. He’s doing it because I slept with him, and he knows I don’t want any of the others to find out. It’s a form of revenge, a tiny twisted game of torture. And I can’t tell Hayes I’ve slept with Lyle. I don’t want to see that look in his eyes—the one I always see when men ask about my past lovers. They say they want to know, but when they hear the truth, they think less of you if your past puts theirs to shame.
“Hey, it’s all part of the vibe of this place,” Hayes says, his voice warm, teasing. He leans down closer, his breath tickling my ear. “Besides, I’m here to protect you from all the ghouls and ghosts in this place.”
I force a laugh. “Hmm, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed your warding off of horrible dreams this morning.”
His eyes flash with mischief, his smile widening. “I’m available all weekend.”
“Hey, where’s everyone else?” I ask as we reach the staircase. Maybe we can all go out for a bit, leave this place for a few hours and I can clear my head.
“Um, I believe getting toxins sucked out by zombies or something.” He chuckles.
“But didn’t they see my texts?” I feel a sting of hurt. “I texted everyone that weird stuff was going on here, and they all ignored it?”
“You texted me? I didn’t get it. I sent you a few messages, but you never answered me back.”
“I did text you, look.” I swipe open my phone to show him the messages I sent just to him, but this time when I open the thread, I notice that each message failed to send. My stomach drops. “Well, that’s weird. I bet there’s no service in here.”
“You’re probably right. Today sucked, though. If I’d known you weren’t coming, I would’ve stayed here with you. What did you do all day?” Hayes asks as we reach the staircase. The portrait of Liliana stares down at us.
I grip the banister, taking the first step. “I slept and had this weird dream where the Siri on my phone was whispering to me, and then I was in someone else’s room. The ghost of Liliana was there, pissing all over a pile of clothes. I think they were Marissa’s.”
