Page 103 of Liars and Liaisons

I strain to hear anything at all and come up empty.

The first door I reach is a broom closet, the second one laundry. The third and fourth are adjoining bedroom suites, one filled with baby-blue bedding and hoards of makeup and clothes, like the ones Micah gave me that she said didn’t fit her. Through a single door, I walk into a shared bathroom, then flip on the light in Willow’s room, with its earth-toned furniture and stacks of fashion magazines.

They’re not in either one.

Fear crawls slowly up my back, its claws starting to sink beneath the surface of my skin. I swallow, tamping it down and reminding myself that they could be anywhere in the fourteen-thousand-square-foot home.

Anyonecould be.

Closing the door behind me as I leave the bedroom, I head back out and through the staff kitchen. It’s gourmet, but not as large as the one in the main part of the home. Mainly used for catering overflow and employee meals.

My hand reaches for the doorknob on the exit door, and I immediately withdraw when my skin touches the bronze.

It’shot. Scorching.

Pain radiates up through my fingers, and I cradle the hand to my chest, staring at the door in shock. “What the fuck?”

Leaning over, I push aside a thick, checkered-pattern curtain and peer out the bay window, trying to figure out what the problem is.

Another fire. This time, the entire patio is in flames, stretching out in a path that disappears around the house. They’re blocking the door, fanning out as the wind whips them into the stone of the house, trying to push them inward.

I back away, letting the curtain fall back into place.

Trying to remain calm.

My insides are impossibly tight, coiling until I feel shaky and light-headed. Still, I head for the main part of the mansion, determined to get out and find my friends.

I’ve not even cleared the kitchen doorway leading to the hall when I hear a loud crash bounce off the walls outside the east wing. A seemingly eternal shattering rattles the sconces on the wall near my head, and heavy footsteps follow.

My heart lurches into my throat, cutting off my oxygen supply as it beats wildly.Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump.

Pulling in a partially strangled breath, I roll my shoulders and straighten my spine. Convince myself that ghosts aren’t real, and that crash was just Willow or Micah fooling around and knocking over the glass case with all the James family masquerade masks in it.

Or maybe they’re outside already, and they left Faun in here so she wouldn’t get lost, and she ran into something. There’s plenty of fragile stuff in the mansion.

Probably why Grayson didn’t want me to keep her inside.

Squeezing myself tight, I lift one foot, determined to find them and get as far away from the multiple fires as possible. Up here with all the trees, I doubt it will take very long to spread and engulf the entire property.

When I shift forward, my foot slips in something warm and wet. I lose balance, my arms flailing blindly, and manage to catch myself on the doorframe at the very last second. Frowning, I glance down at the floor, afraid Faun’s pissed on it and I’ll never hear the end of it from Willow or Grayson.

But the liquid is dark.

Thick and metallic. The smell hits me as I step back, holding my ankle. Goose bumps rain down on me, and my entire body locks up as I follow the massive puddle.

There’s no denying what it is now that I’m paying attention. Crimson pools behind the island, and I move slowly, following the path.

Blood. So much blood.

Too much.

It stains the white cabinets, the marble countertops. Handprints drag down their surfaces, painting a miniature house of horror.

I step carefully, trying not to slip again.

My palm smooths over the island counter, steadying me.

I grip it as tight as I possibly can when I finally round the corner, bile rising so fast to my throat that I have to block it with the back of my arm.

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