Home > Nightfall(68)

Nightfall(68)
Author: Penelope Douglas

Ugh. I had felt something off about him, and while I still didn’t feel like he was evil, he was definitely capable of a lot. He premeditated the murders of seven people. It sounded like there was more to the story, but if he could do it once, he could do it again.

Taylor was right about that. They were all here for a reason, and none of them were my friends.

I slipped off the shirt and boxers I’d slept in, and pulled on one of his white T-shirts before cutting his black pants at the knee and pulling them on, too. I rolled them at the waist so they wouldn’t fall down, and slid on my sneakers, double-knotting them.

Cleaning my glasses, I slipped them on my face and ran a comb through my hair before brushing my teeth. I wasn’t sure where the soaps, shampoos, and hygiene shit came from, but it was in here when I came into the room last night, still packaged and brand new. I wished whoever got me this stuff had cared to supply me with some underwear and another bra.

As soon as Micah and Rory left later, I’d sneak into their room and steal a hoodie.

Leaving the room, I looked around me, rain starting to hit the windows as the gray sky loomed outside, and I jogged down the stairs, heading into the kitchen.

I had bread, cheese, a couple pieces of fruit, and some granola. I’d figure out how to get it out of the kitchen cabinet I had it stored in, but I also needed water.

Approaching the kitchen, I peered inside, seeing it dark, lit only by the light over the stove as I headed around the island, toward the back door, and keeping my eyes peeled around me.

I opened the cabinet and reached behind the stew pot, feeling the cheesecloth bundle still safe and sound.

I smiled.

Now for some water. I took an apple out of the basket on the counter and started eating it as I searched the cabinets for some kind of canteen or water bottle, finally finding some stainless steel tumblers with lids.

I pulled one out and filled it, quickly storing it with the food. I’d test the waters in a bit and see if I could make it to the basement undetected with the bundle. I’d store it down there to grab if I needed to escape or hide.

Slipping the bottle behind the pot, I hit the wall and paused, the apple pinched between my teeth.

That was weird.

I pawed the back panel, feeling that it completely covered the wall, and pulled my arm out, diving into the next cabinet to check its backing.

Same thing.

These cabinets weren’t as deep as they should be. I closed both and stood up, putting my hands on my hips. The countertop was at least six inches less in width than the other countertop on the north wall where the stove was. Heading left, I opened up the kitchen door to the terrace and looked outside.

The house extended at least four feet beyond the end of the wall of cupboards.

The hair on the back of my next stood up, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that peeked out as realization dawned.

Extra depth in the walls was required to allot space for wiring, plumbing, insulation… But not four feet.

This house had passages.

Holy shit. Did they know?

I closed the door and turned to the wall, behind which should be a secret tunnel and possibly stairs, leading up or down. Who knew where the passages went, but I wanted to find out. If they were clueless, it would be a good place to hide, and it was certainly one way that security could keep tabs on the people here without being detected.

And now was the time to find out. Aydin and Taylor might still be in bed. The others were on their way out to hunt soon.

I backed up and turned in a circle, seeing the house like I hadn’t before. What if the tunnels led off the grounds? To a crew housed closer to here than the guys thought? I could get away undetected. The possibilities were endless. I needed to explore.

I passed the stove, sink, and the kitchen window, seeing the solarium next to the house. There was a garden shed on the other side of it. If it had tools—a screwdriver, at least—I could pry panels open, assuming I couldn’t find the trigger designed to open them in the first place. In movies, it was always a book that you’d tilt to get the door to open, but it was more often some kind of lock mechanism or lever.

Dammit. How had I not seen this?

Opening the back door again, I stepped outside and crossed the terrace, droplets wetting my legs and arms as I dashed across the stone for the greenhouse.

Opening the door, I hurried inside and took off my glasses, cleaning the water off with my shirt.

A wave of warmth instantly hit my chilled skin as I inhaled the scent of ferns, soil, and wood, the sudden increase in humidity blanketing me.

I slipped my glasses back on and looked around, hearing the drops tap, tap, tap, against the glass panels that made up the roof and walls, as well as a light classical tune coming from somewhere deeper in the greenhouse.

I slowed, gazing all around at the ancient conservatory, the white paint of the metal window frames chipped and rusted. I stepped across the small white tiles, the grout black and filthy, and a spiral staircase leading to a catwalk that creaked when it thundered outside.

The plant life was in beautiful form, though. Green, thick, lush… Trees reached up to the roof, palms stretching wide as too many plants to name adorned the landscapes and beds around the walkway. This place was well-loved.

Did the crew also tend to this when they came in? Seemed like pointless work when these little shits wouldn’t give a damn.

Water hit me from above, and I tipped my head back, seeing an open panel of glass, the rusty chain severed and dangling as rain poured in.

That would need to be fixed soon. With the temperature dropping, it would be impossible to maintain the heat needed in here.

I strolled through the greenhouse, zero clue what most of these plants were called, but it felt like another world. Not cold and dark—not dangerous—like Blackchurch. It was calm and decadent, like an island somewhere where the heat and scent got under your skin and into your head.

Like waking up from a nightmare. Or opening your eyes to presents and cake. I liked it.

The music hit my ears again, and I looked ahead, spotted Aydin, and stopped.

He sat in a pair of black pants and a white T-shirt like me, but his was filthy with dirt smudges as he leaned over the plant bed and cut something. His hair, usually slicked back, laid dry and haphazardly over his forehead and temples, and a light sheen of sweat covered his forearms.

I stared at him, unable to move, because I couldn’t remember why I’d come in here, but I knew it was a secret. I hadn’t wanted to run into anyone. I thought he was still asleep.

He glanced over, dropping whatever he’d cut into the bowl and reached over, cutting some more.

I shifted on my feet, ready to turn around. I couldn’t go to the shed now.

But instead, he called me over. “Come here.”

I looked up at him again, seeing him concentrate on his task, and I walked over to his side, doing as he said.

He picked a strawberry out of the bowl and handed it to me, leaves, stem, and all.

I shot him a suspicious look, but I took it. He’d just cut it. It was probably fine.

Sticking it between my teeth, I bit into the small thing, pressing the chunk between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, sucking on the juice. My mouth exploded, savoring the flavor.

I nodded, swallowing and nibbling on the rest.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s… sweet.”

It was surprising.

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