“Probably best to leave the greenhouse off your list of places to explore, then,” Caitlyn said. “There are some really dangerous plants in here.”
She punctuated the warning by slapping away a vine that had begun to creep over her shoulder. As if that weren’t proof enough, she stepped aside and yanked open the door of a refrigerator that looked at least fifty years old... and pulled out a severed leg.
I was really hoping it was pork. It also might have been someone Creep had got to first.
Before I could ask, Caitlyn tossed it high into the air.
A pair of thick vines shot down from the balcony above, snaring the leg mid-flight. Globs of something viscous dribbled from somewhere above the vines, splattering onto the soil below. Then—like a scene straight out of a horror film—something massive began to descend from the iron rafters.
At first, it looked like a human-sized flower bud, its fleshy petals swollen and blood-red. Then the petals slowly unfurled. Inside was a lurid neon yellow, each petal lined with rows upon rows of barbed teeth.
The flower-creature lowered itself over the exposed bone of the leg and began to pulse. With every contraction, the leg was dragged deeper into the petalled maw, viscous saliva bubbling around it. When the final scrap of flesh vanished with a softplop, Caitlyn tilted her head fondly.
“Hungry today, aren’t you, girl?” she cooed.
“What in the seven realms of hell isthatthing?”
“Hm?” Caitlyn glanced back at the plant fondly, then at me. “Oh! It’s aMordiflora dentata—a toothed death flower. They eat flesh, as you’ve seen, but they’re really quite adorable when they’re not hungry.”
“I’m sure,” I said flatly. “And... why do you have one?”
Caitlyn shrugged. “Came with the house,” she said easily. “She was in a terrible state when I found her, weren’t you, Mordi? I think Creep kept her alive over the years with whatever rodents and small animals she could catch. Poor thing was half starved.”
She stepped closer to the plant and reached up, gently scratching beneath what I could only assume was a chin, causing the plant to quiver appreciatively.
“But Mommy’s feeding you properly now, isn’t she?” Caitlyn crooned. “And in return, you let me harvest some of that preciousdentivenafor Mommy’s potions, don’t you?”
The plant pulsed with pleasure again.
Caitlyn turned back to me. “Anyway, Mordi isfarfrom the most dangerous plant in here,” she said, stepping toward the door. “So don’t go in here with any silly romantic notions of picking me flowers, hm?”
“No, ma’am,” I said, stepping aside as she shut the door to the one room in the house I wouldn’t enter even if there were a fire and it was my only escape route.
The next stop on the tour was the basement, the door tucked neatly beneath the stairs. This was a brief visit, mostly because the door was very much locked.
“It’s just full of old furniture and bits and bobs left behind by the families before me,” Caitlyn said. “Creep won’t let me down there anymore, though. I once hauled up this incredible old gothic dresser to upcycle, and the moment she saw the paint color I’d chosen, she magicked it straight back down. I woke up the next morning to find she’d paintedmeduck-egg blue in my sleep.”
A light chuckle escaped me, and Caitlyn grinned in response.
“Laugh all you want,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what she has planned for you when you annoy her.” Her tone was bright and amused, like this outcome was inevitable.
The remainder of the downstairs consisted of the living room, a snug that was essentially the living room again but half the size, a cavernous dining room, and a room entirely devoid of anything—save for a suspicious dark brown stain in the center of the floor.
Caitlyn rounded the stairway, one delicate hand trailing along the carved, sweeping balustrade. Dust glittered with every step she took, catching the candlelight and lending her an almost ethereal glow, despite the overalls, as she climbed.
The landing above was dressed in the same grimy gothic style as the rest of the house—taxidermy animals, half-dead plants, and dirt-obscured paintings lining the walls. Eight doors in total dotted the cavernous space.
“This one’s the bathroom,” Caitlyn said, opening the door to a dark room lined from floor to ceiling in forest-green subway tiles. They contrasted beautifully with the black-and-white mosaic tiles underfoot. The clawfoot bath, toilet, and sink all suited the Victorian style, complete with high cisterns and decorative—if heavily limescaled—fittings.
Before I could properly take it all in, Caitlyn was already moving on.
“And this is the attic,” she said, not even reaching for the handle. “It’s where Creep lives. She keeps it sealed shut.” She shrugged. “She’s never let me up there, so Gods only know what she’s stashed away. My guess? It’s where she hides the bodies.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
From what little I knew about Creep, it wouldn’t surprise me.
“The rest of the rooms are bedrooms,” Caitlyn continued. She hesitated, chewing her lip. “Which brings me to the, um... other thing we need to discuss.”
Where you’re going to sleep,my mind helpfully supplied.
