Page 102 of Liars and Liaisons

Once again, a bony hand goes to her mouth. She stops about a foot from Kal, her eyes widening as she scans him from head to toe. He’s an inch or so taller than me, so it takes her a moment.

Then, she gasps. “Kallum.”

36

The first thingI notice is that I’m alone.

I went to sleep on one edge of the mattress, nearly falling off, as Faun took up most of the bed, with Willow and Micah on the other side. They grumbled, especially Willow, about how a barn animal shouldn’t be on the furniture, but then Faun’s little tongue slapped her in the face with a kiss, and she was won over.

Now, none of them are here. I grope around the sheets in the dark with both hands, expecting to meet fur or hair or skin, and there’s just nothing.

The second thing I notice is that it’scold. Ice cold, despite it being summer outside, as if the interior thermostat is set to an incredibly low temperature.

Or there’ssomethingmaking it that way.

My breath is a crystal white in the moonlight spilling in from the ceiling windows. I rub my hands together, wrapping myself in a knitted throw bed before crawling to my feet.

The third thing I notice is the smell.

It’s acrid and suffocating, like the burning of wood and ash. My throat and nose burn, and as I stumble over to the wall of windows, I notice the fourth thing—the orange glow tinting the night air.

Clouds of smoke pour into the black sky, blanketing the stars. At their apex, a fire rages, angry flames whipping left and right and climbing taller, burning brighter.

“The barn.”

I don’t know why I say it out loud since there’s no one in here with me. No one to hear my utter astonishment.

Blinking rapidly, I try to wake up from this dream.

I pinch my arm. My thigh. My stomach.

Still, the barn burns.

And I just keep standing here like an idiot, unsure of what else to do. Down in the courtyard below, I see shadows of creatures—the goats—running around, trying to escape. The glass is too thick to hear their cries for help, but they echo in my mind either way.

Finally, I shake myself out of the state of shock and manage to hobble back to the bed. I pick up my phone, checking the screen.

No service.

Shit.What a perfect time for the mountains to become a fucking tower block.

There’s an app that allows me to contact emergency services with just Wi-Fi, so I send a quick chat to them and then to Cora even though I know there’s nothing she can do from five and a half hours away.

My texts to Grayson and Kal go undelivered, and a massive knot settles inside my stomach, yanking my nerves toward it. They tangle there, panic grabbing for my throat.

I inhale slowly, watching my breath disappear into the air in front of me. Hoping they’re already on the plane and coming back, I shrug into an old sweatshirt I dug out of Grayson’s closet and into a pair of flannel pajamas. The blanket restricts my movements too much, so I ditch it, heading downstairs to look for Micah and Willow.

I’ve managed to avoid going out into the estate this late at night, on account of its utter creepiness factor. Even as I slide my feet down the hall, careful to make as little noise as possible, every inch I tackle seems to reverberate off the walls. Like the mansion wants its ghosts to know I’m wandering, vulnerable to the haunting.

There are no lights on as I go father into the house. Not even the little night-light at the bottom of the main staircase or on the porch, where it should be shining through the stained glass framing the front door. My hand grips the stair railing so tight that my fingers start to cramp.

Something feels off. None of the security detail seems to be around even though Grayson increased the amount of men he normally has on duty.

I don’t hear anything at all. Not the clanking of dishes if Willow’s making another bowl of popcorn or the smile in Micah’s voice as she recounts the last few scenes of whatever movie we fell asleep watching.

My next thought is that they’ve gone back to the staff wing and maybe aren’t even aware of the chaos ensuing just outside. I hug myself, rubbing my arms as I take short, quick steps to the east wing, past the main kitchen and more windows overlooking the orange nighttime.

The door to the wing is open, so I nudge it aside with my foot and step in. My elbow bumps a light switch, illuminating the narrow hall in dull pockets of light. I pause, listening for signs of life—movement, laughter, snoring.

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