A secret passageway. And not the only one.
The model house is riddled with tunnels, narrow gaps that run between each and every bedroom, on both sides of the stairs. Which strikes her as weird, but then again, she grew up in a ranch house, not a castle.
Millie blinks, eyes tired from squinting. The light—the real light, outside the real library windows—is getting thin, and her stomach has started to growl, and she can smell something good wafting down the hall. So she leaves Cate still studying the dollhouse, and heads for the kitchen.
* * *
PRISCILLA’S AT THE STOVE, GRINDING BLACK PEPPERinto a huge pot of spaghetti sauce.
Kenzo is sitting at the long wooden table, tapping away on his typewriter, a few sheets of light-purple paper face down on one side and the ax resting on the other. Millie glances at the counter, the knife block in Priscilla’s reach, and wonders if she, too, should have a weapon handy. The house has enough to choose from.
“How are you holding up, Millie?” asks the romance writer as she stirs the pot.
Kenzo stops typing long enough to look up and give her a salute.
“Okay, I guess...” Millie nods at Kenzo’s typewriter. “Sounds like the writing’s going well.”
He shrugs. “Turns out that being reminded of my own mortality is excellent for productivity. Silver linings and all that.” He goes back to work, filling the kitchen with the harsh clack of keys, and Priscilla looks at Millie.
“Kenzoseems to think it’s a bad idea to be alone.”
“I know a pattern when I see one.” He glances up, sounding vaguely wounded. “Besides, you said you liked the company...”
“Did I?” asks Priscilla, but she flashes him a smile before turning back to Millie. “Have you seen Cate? I do think it’s good we keep an eye on each other, all things considered.”
“She was in the library just now.”
“Writing?” Kenzo ventures.
Millie shakes her head. She lowers her voice. “I think she’s too upset to write.”
Kenzo grunts. “What about you, Priscilla? Have you found the ending yet?”
The romance writer wavers. “I’m still... considering my options.”
Millie wanders over to the stove. “That smells great.”
“It’s my ex-boyfriend’s mother’s recipe. The only good thing to come ofthatrelationship.... Hand me that colander?” She strains the pasta, then adds it to the sauce. “I may have slightly overcatered.”
Millie pulls four bowls from the cupboard, but Priscilla frowns.
“Five,” she says. “Jaxon needs to eat, too.”
“Of course,” says Millie, smacking her forehead. “Sorry, long day.”
“I’ll take him up a bowl,” says Kenzo, pushing back his chair. “I’m stuck on this beat. Plus, I want to see his face when I offer him carbs.”
“I’ll come with you,” offers Millie.
Behind her glasses, Priscilla lifts a brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Millie chews her lip. “Well, I mean, Kenzo said it wasn’t a good idea to be alone. Besides,” she adds, as Priscilla loads the pasta on a tray, along with a glass of water and a fork, “if Jaxon tries anything, I’m sure he’ll protect me.”
Kenzo lets out a full-throated laugh. “No offense, Millie, but Jaxon Knight could probably snap me like a toothpick. If he tries, you’re on your own.”
“Some hero.” She rolls her eyes.
“Hero? Who said anything about being a hero?” Kenzo takes up the tray. “There are no heroes in horror. Only people who get out alive.”
