He could handle a little darkness.
Rabbit ground his teeth and gathered his courage, easing up at an excruciatingly slow pace. But he did it. It took him just as long to climb from the bed, his bare feet touching the chilly hardwood floor, and snatched his multi-slate off the table. The flashlight setting came on instantly at his command and the vice around his heart eased ever so slightly. Because of the skylight, he was able to make out enough to move around without bumping into anything, moving around the bed to brush the thick curtains aside.
Since it was well past midnight, the house next to his didn’t have any of their indoor lights on, but the back patio porch was brightly lit. He frowned and then went to the other window set on the adjoining wall to check the neighbors on the opposite side.
Everything appeared to be in working order for them as well.
With the flashlight in hand, Rabbit was a bit more confident as he exited his bedroom. The top floor was set up as a loft area that encircled the entire floor beneath it, and he peered over the metal railing as he traveled toward the wide staircase down the hall, passing the closed library door and the door to his mother’s study.
The steps creaked beneath him as he made his way down, careful to shine the light directly on them so he didn’t risk tripping and falling. It was a long drop, and he’d no doubt risk breaking something if he was unfortunate enough to slip.
He just had to make it to the mainframe computer located in the atrium, exactly where the steps led. There was an emergency control switch that would reactivate Mint, his A.I. Housekeeper. He was equipped with a backup store of energy, but it had to be manually turned on by his user. Once Mint was online again, Rabbit could order him to locate the problem with the power and fix it.
Then the lights would be back on and everything would return to being normal.
Honestly, he was a bit proud of himself as he finally made it to the landing and turned to the right, where a large control panel camouflaged as an ornate mirror hung above a writing desk. It’d taken him well over six months to do it, but he was now at a place where walking surrounded by darkness was doable so long as he had a single flashlight to help guide his way.
Before, even that wouldn’t have been enough.
Pressing beneath the mirror, he felt for the hidden switch, waiting when he pushed it for the familiar hum of the machine as it booted to life.
Only, it didn’t come.
He pursed his lips. That couldn’t be right. The button had a fingerprint scanner attached, meaning it would have identified him when he’d touched it and activated. He tried again figuring he hadn’t rested his finger on it enough, but still nothing.
As he started to fiddle with it, a thought trickled through his head, like a murky recollection slowly reaffirming itself.
Something had woken him up, right? Had it been the weird dream he couldn’t remember or something else?
Almost as soon as he recalled that he picked up on a soft sound. His shoulders and spine stiffened, ears straining to make out any other noise even as he tried to silently tell himself he was mistaken.
It’d come from clean across the atrium, somewhere between the entranceways to the dining room and the sitting room, if he wasn’t mistaken. The sound itself had been faint, barely audible, which was why he was so hopeful he’d made it up.
Until it came again.
A slight ruffle of clothing.
The sound of a rubber sole lifting off the marble flooring.
Rabbit felt the presence at his back a moment later, the intense sensation of being watched cascading over him like an icy waterfall. The force of it set him off, his flight instincts kicking into overdrive as he bolted to the right, sprinting down one of the two back corridors that led to the main portion of the house.
He sucked in a sharp breath when whoever was there gave immediate chase, no longer bothering to hide as they raced through the massive structure. Whoever it was sounded fast. And big.
Though keeping the flashlight on would make it easier for him to be followed, Rabbit didn’t have it in himself to toss his multi-slate away. The fear of whoever was pursuing him warred with his fear of being cast in total darkness. He’d be even more helpless if he allowed the latter to occur, and his grip tightened around the device, beams of light slashing through the living room as he darted around the couch to get to the exit.
His mother had designed the house herself, wanting something open and airy to show off to the reporters that came to do a piece on the place afterward. They’d ooh’d and ahh’d exactly as she’d planned, waxing poetic about how artsy her taste was, guessing she’d chosen to leave most rooms without doors for the acoustics or some other such nonsense.
The lack of privacy in most areas of the house used to bother him a little when he’d been younger, but then his mother had gone on longer and longer trips, first abroad and eventually off planet, and it’d become less of a big deal to him.
Until now, when he was being hunted down by an intruder with nowhere safe to hide.
The only place he could think of was the mudroom, which had both a door separating it from the kitchen it was attached to and one leading straight to the backyard. If he could get there, he could run outside and either go for help from one of his neighbors or make it to the garage.
He entered the kitchen and felt a gush of air at his back, the ghostly sensation of fingers just nearly having grabbed him causing him to pick up the pace and practically run into the edge of the kitchen table. Rabbit just barely avoided it, feeling an inkling of satisfaction when whoever was behind him wasn’t so lucky, a hard whack and a curse cluing him into that fact.
The satisfaction was short-lived, however. Just as he was reaching for the doorknob to the mudroom, strong arms banded around his waist and hauled him away from the promise of safety.
A startled yelp burst from his throat as he was spun around and bent, his front slammed down over the granite island that no one had ever used for cooking a single day since it’d been purchased and fixed into the home. The surface was frigid against his skin as his cheek was smashed into it, a heavy hand holding him prisoner by the nape.
