Terrified and with no escape, Laura lies in bed. Waiting for a lethal kiss.
Afraid of what’s lurking inside her own home.
I glance around the study and imagine a figure walking the halls, floating through the door, creeping up behind me to trail cold fingers?—
“Stop.” I chastise myself and scrunch my shoulders, trying to erase the phantom touch. Pulling a throw blanket from the back of the sofa, I wrap it around me like a makeshift shield.
Why am I letting this book get to me?
Or maybe it’s the idea of someone entering the apartment. Leaving the book for me to find.
No. Ridiculous. No one’s sneaking around here when I’m gone.
Or when I’m still here.
Another red mark catches my eye. This time, it’s drawn close to the fold. Pulling the pages wide reveals a symbol, one I recognize.
The letter V below a winding S. The tip of the S is slightly bulbous, meant to represent the snake’s head.
The symbol again.
But what does it mean? It must represent something important—at least to the Marteau family.
And here it is again, in the margins of a book. A strange and unsettling book.
Lightning flashes and I startle, my hand reflexively moving to protect my throat. Staring at the windows and the rain streaming down, I breathe deep to steady myself. But my heart is an aching throb, filling my chest and pressing on my ribs.
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.
I tuck my legs beneath me, firelight flickering on the walls of the study. The hall beyond the doorway stretches long and hollow, as I sit and listen to the apartment breathe.
Reaching for my wine, I take a sip. But all I taste is the bitterness of fear. My nerves prickle, as if sensing an unseen presence nearby. Watching. Waiting. Lingering in the walls.
My gaze flits to every corner, searching the shadows for movement, for an emerging threat. All the doors in the apartment are locked. The place is quiet as a tomb. But I can’t shake the uneasy feeling.
That I’m not alone.
My Hotel Peculiar
I went back to the food display, but nothing tasted good anymore. I took some cheese and pretty crackers with the sweets, but I couldn’t stop thinking about my father and the woman.
Why did they go through that door? It only led to one place.
And it’s not a place for a woman in a shiny dress.
Out in the hallway, I checked the clock again. Almost half an hour since my father disappeared with the British woman.
I needed to go back to bed. I didn’t want to get in trouble. But I couldn’t stop my wondering, couldn’t stop imagining what they might be doing. Would my father touch her again? Would he kiss her?
All while my mother was asleep?
Taking my snacks, I went back to the secret stairs. I started up.
But then I stopped, wrapping the food in the napkin and leaving it on the side of a step. I was curious, but also upset.
Something didn’t feel right.
I raced down to the next level. The cellar. My parents stored wine down there, but that’s not why I went.
