Page 6 of Grotesque
I was leaning toward the glass when she jerked the curtains closed. With a flash of my teeth, I went to the next set of windows, but she covered those too.
Fine.
I would wait her out. I had all night. All year. All of eternity.
I waited until I heard her fingers gliding through the pages of her book to come to a halt, until the light seeping through the crack in the curtains was extinguished. I tapped against the window, inviting her to look out and find me. There was no response.
It would be risky slipping into the house now when I couldn’t see if she was asleep, but by the sound of it… I cocked my head, pressing my ear against the window. It sounded like she was. Her breath deepened with the sound of dreams.
I slipped in through the front door, pausing in the foyer to cast a glance down at Maxine’s silly list of rules, exactly where I’d left them for Sorcha to discover. I snorted. As if those flimsy lines had ever worked. As if they would stop me from taking what I wanted.
They hadn’t before.
Well, almost.
In two bounds I was up the stairs and before her door. In the wink of an eye, I was on the other side of it, leering down at her.
Sorcha was even more attractive up close. She looked nothing like Maxine, and I supposed that was a blessing. Maxine had been short with a craggy face, and a pudgy, splotched body to match. All of Sorcha was sharp and long, while the best parts of her–I pulled back the sheet to confirm–looked deliciously soft.
Sorcha stirred, mumbling in her sleep, but didn’t wake. I continued my visual feast.
A black moth was tattooed on her upper thigh. I ran my talon over the outline of the wing. Normally I detested tattoos, but this one was special. It was a bad omen.
So, my little meal liked death, did she? I wondered how at ease she would feel once she was face to face with it.
I let my hand drift over her face, but I didn’t touch her the way I wanted to. Not yet. I wanted to savor this moment. How innocent and unprotected she was beneath me, a predator of lethal shadow.
She would do nicely.
The cool breeze of the bay blew through my car window as I drove into town. Bristol was a sleepy little place, right on the water, which was dotted with an assortment of sailing and fishing boats. It was about a forty-minute drive from Glamis Manor. The red brick factories and whitewashed colonial homes were in stark contrast to the gothic abode I had moved into.
Last night had beenlong. On more than one occasion I had woken up with the eerie sensation of being watched crawling all over my body. I knew I was alone, that my bedroom door was locked, and that nothing could look back at me through the mirrors since I’d ensured they were covered. But the feeling had made for a hellish night, and even worse dreams.
Reading horror novels before bed was hardly helping.
The last thing I’d done before leaving the house this morning was cover the rest of the mirrors. I’d pulled sheets from the bedsin a couple of the spare bedrooms, tucking their corners firmly to conceal the dark, still reflections. Better to be safe than sorry, I figured.
There wasn’t anything I needed in town, but exploring always did my soul good. I spent the afternoon wandering antique shops and boutiques before I made my way into a small pub,McBride’sscrawled boldly across its doorway in big gold lettering.
Revelers spilled across the patio, but I had to blink against the darkness as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as I walked inside. For a Thursday afternoon, the place was buzzing. There was a small crowd huddled at the bar with few people standing in the middle of the floor, laughing and hollering about something John did on Monday. I squeezed myself between two bodies and made a beeline for the last seat at the bar.
Luck was on my side today.
I had enough money saved up from my old waitressing job that I could afford a beer or two on this fine afternoon. Macky’s attorney had explained that I would be receiving the initial inheritance payment within the first month of residency at Glamis. It would be enough to get me through the first year. After that, the big checks would roll in and I’d never have to worry about a thing ever again.
My phone buzzed.
Mom:How’s it going?
I hadn’t told her I had made it to the house yet. Part of me was still anxious about the whole ‘secret mansion’ thing.
Me:Fine. I should be there in another day or two. I keep pulling off to explore all the little towns along the way.
Mom: Alright. Be safe and let me know as soon as you get there.
I took a sip from my glass. I had no clue what I was going to tell her. I couldn’t avoid her forever. I knew Mom, though. She would ruin this just as soon as she found out. She would make it about her. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to get me to sell the place. Or worse, take matters into her own hands and move in with me.
“Want another?” The bartender nodded to me.
