One portrait catches my attention. A woman, younger than the others, with familiar green eyes and dark hair. She's smiling, but there's something wrong with it.
“She looks like you.” Asher moves close, his breath warming my neck. “Same 'I'll kill you in your sleep' energy.”
“Ha. Ha.” I move to the next one.” Family trait, apparently.”
“Hot.” His hand slips down my back and lands on my hip.
I gasp.
Shit. This was a bad idea.
The phone light catches a massive staircase spiraling up into darkness. Wrought-iron railings twist into deliberate shapes. Everything is designed to unsettle.
“Maybe they liked their privacy,” I muse out loud.
“Privacy.” He laughs, the sound too loud in all this quiet. “That's what we're calling it?”
I step away from him, deeper into the house.
My vision adjusts, picking out details. A grandfather clock that isn't ticking, furniture draped in white sheets, and doorways that lead to more darkness.
“Where's the light switch?”
“Probably in the murder basement.” He follows close behind. “Next to the bone saw and the—”
A click echoes through the space. Light floods down from that twisted chandelier, and now I can see everything. Black marble continues throughout, broken only by deep red rugs. The walls are paneled in dark wood and a dark green.
Everything is pristine.
Everything is waiting.
For what? That’s the question.
Two hours later, music plays through the speaker we found in a bedroom, and I'm typing on my laptop to find interior designers I could contact to come… spice the place up. Not a lot—I happen to like the way it is, even if Asher's pretending he doesn't.
“Hey, I never asked how you knew about Veilarath?” I call out from the sitting room, where I'm tearing open a box I found in the main bedroom. If I find anything about who owned this place, that would be something.
“Because I never told you.” Asher says from behind me.
I turn to see him perched against the archway that leads from the lounge to the kitchen. Opposite the lounge is anotherarchway that takes you to the foyer and the front door. I think I like this room the most—all cozy fireplace, rich red leather couches, and art. No TVs, no distractions.
Something dark flickers across Asher's expression, a shadow that passes so fast I think I imagined it. He takes a long pull from his glass, amber liquid catching the firelight, before that trademark smirk slides back.
“Mount Crow.” He pushes off the archway, glass dangling from his fingers. “Been here once or twice to ride it.”
“Mount what now?”
He gestures with his thumb toward the kitchen. Through the windows, I can make out the silhouette of a massive peak rising behind the house, its summit lost in low-hanging clouds.
“That beast in your backyard. Mount Crow. Highest peak on Veilarath.” He drops onto the couch across from me, legs sprawled wide. “You know the story?”
I place my hands on my lap. “There's always a story.”
“Three mountains on this island.” He holds up three fingers. “Legend says they're named after the three people who discovered this place. Mount Grim, Mount Void and Mount Crow.”
I abandon the box, intrigue winning out. “Let me guess, they all died horribly.”
“Two of them died saving the island from some ancient evil or whatever.” He waves his hand dismissively. “But Void? Total douchebag. Fucks with your head all the way down. It's wild, lures you into believing you've got the route down and then wham, you're damn near launching off the edge. Regardless, Void is a bastard. Story goes he tried to seize the entire island for himself, turned on the rest. So when they all transformed into peaks, his got saddled with the shittiest conditions. Avalanches, blizzards, ice storms. The mountain's a prick.”
