Page 5
Daisy leads me by the hand through a maze of corridors, twirling and traipsing, laughter spilling from her lips as naturally as breath. To my surprise I absorb a bit of her joy. Perhaps it’s because I brushed so close to death without understanding why I was there, and now I live again.
I don’t know how to feel.
The hallways are shrouded in shadows, each corner draped in the writhing silhouettes made by Daisy’s dancing and the stiff, iron stillness of my own steps. Ornate décor clutters every console and wall. Chandeliers glint in the warm candlelight. My eyes adjust, soaking in the grandeur of this impossible house. Intricate wallpaper blooms in reds and golds; deep mahogany panels drink the light, and vases shimmer as we glide past. A chill sits beneath it all, insidiously threading itself into my bones.
“What is this place again?” I ask, because it looks more like a museum than a home.
“The Lazarus family owns the estate, but it is also the grounds for Doctor Lazarus’s laboratory,” she says in a twirl.
A lab in a house like this? My thoughts flare with questions, but none slip past my lips.
“What does this ‘Doctor Lazarus’ do exactly?”
“Well…” She pouts dramatically. “He’s a scientist who focuses on making people live forever. Or something like that.”
“Is that even possible?” I laugh.
“Think of him as a modern necromancer. A recluse, too. But please, do not tell him I said that.” She presses a finger to her lips.
I study her, her expressions reminiscent of someone who knows far more than she reveals. Though her cunning expressions are beautiful.
My hands absently drift up to my face. A small nose, pillowy lips, smooth skin. Then the padded gauze near my cheekbone. A reminder that someone tried to kill me.
“Marisa.” Daisy cuts through my thoughts. “You okay?”
“Sorry. I just…I can’t even remember what I really look like.”
She says nothing at first, then her smile lifts faintly. “Come on. Let the house show you itself. It might help.”
“I can’t stay here.” A hospital feels more fitting for me, considering everything.
“Yes you will. You have to stay here and recover, silly,” she teases, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“That’s very kind, but I’m sure I have a family looking for me.”
A mournful flicker crosses her expression before she smooths it away. “I am not so sure about that. This town…this estate…we are hours from any city life.”
Her answer threads itself into my scattered mind. “Then maybe my family is from this town?”
“I’m sorry Marisa, this is a very close knit community. No one has reported a missing woman.” She frowns.
I nod, choosing to tuck the information away for later.
We soon arrive at a narrow staircase. Daisy slips ahead into the darkness. I hesitate, then follow until we reach a small landing sealed off by a tall glass door.
“This staircase used to be a secret passageway,” she whispers.
“A real labyrinth,” I murmur, glancing around. A part of me wonders if she is walking me toward some quiet execution. Instinctively, I keep a little distance.
“The family has a long history of obsession with life and death,” she says like a tour guide. Though I’m not sure what life and death has to do with secret passageways.
Through the glass paneled door is a domed room overflowing with towering greenery. Vines curl around ruined pillars like resting serpents, their shadows monstrous and mythic. It’s magnificent and terrifying in the same breath.
“What is this place?” My voice thins with awe. The air is humid and damp, tinged with the scent of fresh earth after rain and a small trace of rotting fruit wafting over the sea. Ahead, immense windows open to the night’s breeze.
A hush fills the space.
There’s a man standing by the window, leaning on a cane. He turns immediately at our approach.
