Page 9 of Claimed By the Mothman
“Nothing drastic, of course.” His voice was perfectly pleasant, but something in it rang with gravity. “Just small things. Windows where there were none. Light that knows where to fall. Closets that grow. This place remembers what people need.”
“Is that common?” She tried to sound casual, but her voice had gone thin. Of course Goldie lived in a city like this, filled with buildings that rearranged its closets to suit your soul.
He gave a modest shrug. “In this building, yes.”
Nell drifted forward to the open doorway of the pantry. Her fingers brushed one of the shelf edges like she could memorize it through touch alone. It was the kind of space she’d always dreamed of having—quiet, abundant, entirely her own.
Her heart lifted, then immediately clenched as she looked around the kitchen one last time: the sunlight spilling like honey across the floor, the window seat that felt like a promise, the way the room had already begun to feel familiar.
She didn’t want to ask, because she already knew the answer. Places like this, places that felt like theysawyou, came with price tags designed for someone else.
Her voice came out small, steadied only by desperation. “How much is the rent?”
Mr. Lyle named a number.
Nell’s breath stuttered in her chest. “That can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“But—”
He raised a hand to catch her words midair.
“We are very particular about the individuals we allow to live in Greymarket Towers, Ms. Townsend.” His lips curled into a smile. “Our apartments do not open often. But when they do, and we find the right type of person...”
He looked at her like he was taking her measurement across time.
“We want them to be happy here. And for them to stay for as long as they desire.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “I—yes,” she said. “I want it. Please.”
Something in the lines of Mr. Lyle’s face softened, like a story had just reached its expected ending. “Let us sign the paperwork, then.”
They stepped into the hallway. Before the door clicked shut behind them, Nell turned for one last look. The sunlight had shifted again, leaning towards here like it was interested orlistening.The room seemed to be holding its breath.
And so was she.
It felt like…a beginning.
Chapter 2
Nell dropped the last, slightly-too-heavy box onto the hardwood floor of Apartment 4C and let out a satisfied wheeze.
Sweat clung to the back of her neck, and her hair had long since abandoned any attempt at tidiness. Her shirt was sticking to her back, her hands ached, and she couldn’t have felt better if she’d tried.
The last forty-eight hours had passed in a dreamlike blur. She’d signed the lease, made the deposit, and Mr. Lyle had handed over the keys with a soft smile and a nod that felt more ceremonial than transactional. She’d started packing that same afternoon, barely sleeping that night from the mix of nerves and anticipation.
Now, here she was.For real.
Half-labeled boxes were stacked in ungraceful pillars throughout the space. The windows were flung open to let in the late afternoon breeze, which carried the scent of distant city heat and something green. A beam of sunlight cut across the floor in a perfect line, catching the dust motes midair.
Her bed tilted sideways against the wall of the bedroom, while her battered old couch slumped in the middle of the living room like it needed a nap. Her chipped, college-era dining table looked hilariously out of place against the graceful curve of the kitchen’s window trim.
Nothing matched. But it didn’t matter. Everything feltright.
“This is it,” Nell whispered to herself, wiping her palms on her leggings. “Home.” She twisted the opal ring once on her finger. It felt warm against her skin.
From the kitchen came an enthusiastic yelp. “Nell. This window seat. This EVERYTHING!”
