Free Darkest Fear by Cate Tiernan Page A

empty.
    Inside, Matéo said, “I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow. Right now we’ll just go upstairs—you look wiped.”
    I gave him a wan smile and wondered if I could make it up a flight of stairs. I’d noticed the staircase when we’d walked past it before—it was wide and beautiful, rising upward in a graceful curve. Faint music drifted down from above. I felt vibrations as people walked on the floor overhead.
    â€œThere are five bedrooms on the second floor,” Aly said as I followed the worn places on the wooden stair treads. The handrailwas as smooth as marble, worn down by a hundred and fifty years of hands stroking it, gripping its sides. “And then six more on the third floor—they used to be servants’ quarters.”
    Matéo had snapped off lights as we’d left the downstairs and didn’t bother turning any on as we reached the second floor. Moonlight and light from the streetlamp shone through tall windows, casting pale, slanted rectangles across the wooden floors and patched plaster walls. As with the downstairs, everything looked run-down, in need of paint. I heard a toilet flush, heard hushed conversation and low laughter. Maybe I shouldn’t stay here. But as soon as I had that thought, I knew that I couldn’t possibly make it anywhere else. I felt barely conscious, swaying on my feet.
    â€œThat’s our room,” Aly said, pointing toward the back of the house. “This one in front is where Coco sleeps. You’ll stay in this other front one—it’s nice and big and has its own bathroom.” She smiled at me, and I tried to smile back. “There’s a hall bathroom,” she went on. “Three people share it: Coco, James, and Suzanne. James and Suzanne are in the room next to yours. Then Dana and Tink live upstairs.”
    Matéo, walking ahead, opened a tall door leading to the right-hand front bedroom. He set my case on the floor. “Here you go. The bathroom is tiny—it used to be a closet—but it’s all yours.”
    I stopped in the doorway. Our house in Florida was a typical seventies one-story ranch, with eight-foot ceilings, plain doors, small windows, and a peaked roof in the family room. This house was enormous, with fourteen-foot ceilings on both floors, nine-foot-tallFrench windows everywhere, and ornate plaster and wide, fancy molding on the baseboards and around the ceilings.
    It was one of the grandest rooms I’d ever been in. The tall double bed with a half tester was draped in coral-colored watered silk. The mattress came up almost to my waist. In one corner of the room, an oval full-length mirror on a stand reflected our shadowy selves. Between the two French windows that led to the second-story porch was an enormous armoire, maybe seven feet tall and six feet wide. Its wood was dark and shiny and its fittings were brass. Heavy silk curtains that matched the bed hangings gave off little puffs of dust as Aly closed them, and she sneezed.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I don’t think Miranda ever cleaned in here. We’ll hit it tomorrow. I’ll get some fresh sheets.”
    â€œIt’s fine. Beautiful,” I said, but Aly had already gone.
    When Matéo clicked the bedside light on, we blinked—it seemed almost too bright, after the darkness. “There’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing to a door on the other side of the bed. “There should be towels and stuff in there.”
    â€œThank you so much,” I said, overwhelmed. “This is gorgeous. I really appreciate it.” My eyes started burning, and I blinked several times. I’d felt very alone since Tia Juliana had left, and that last night in my parents’ house I’d felt the most alone ever, waiting in the darkness with my baseball bat. Which I now remembered was down in my car. Damn it. I was sure I didn’t need it, but still.
    Anyway, to be here now with