I’m leaving in a few days to stay with my best friend Sunnie over Christmas. She was my roommate for four entire years throughout college—the dorms for the first year and then a small place we shared afterward. Shockingly, we never fought once. Not even when we disagreed over stuff. I think our mutual respect is why we ended up staying close. Anyway, she just bought her first house and invited me to stay since I’ll be all alone this year. Bard is never around on Christmas—not that I want to spend it with him, but where he goes, I don’t know. He would never say.
God, I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m looking forward to the change of scenery for two weeks.
Oh, and did I mention I quit my job?
Jim called it a “leave of absence for bereavement purposes,” but there’s no way in hell I’m going back. I overheard him tell Phil, one of my coworkers, that Grandma was an “old crazy cunt.” Yes, she spit on his feet every time they met in passing, but it was a cruel thing to say with me just a few feet away in the break room.
I take a deep breath, eager to get on with the day and see what’s really holed up in the master bedroom. Probably more old linens and broken furniture.
I try the handle, but it’s locked. “Shit.” Of course it is. I knew Grandma never wanted anyone in there. The question is, where’s the key? I’d hate to bust down the hand-carved door. It’s a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, with ornate roses and tiny leaves etched into the wood.
“Lake,” says a hauntingly deep voice, “is that you?”
I jump back from the door, pressing my hand over my mouth. “What the fuck?”
“You must open this door, Lake,” he says in a low wicked tone. “You must let me out. I am hungry.”
Ohmygod. I turn and run, not stopping until I’m almost to the back porch. And then it’s only to slide off my tennis shoes and put on my snow boots.
Once outside, I run, following the narrow path home that Bard shoveled for me this morning. I rush into my house and slam the door behind me.
“No. No. No. That didn’t happen.” Panting, I push my palms against my eyelids, wishing my fear away. It’s no use because I know what I heard.
There’s a scratch on my front door, and I jump in my skin. “Go away! Whatever you are, go away!”
It replies with a soft whimper and another scratch.
“Oh, God. Master.” I open the door and find him standing there, looking forlorn. He doesn’t appreciate being left behind. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t mean to do that.” He came with me to the main house earlier, but I left him by the fireplace downstairs in the parlor.
I let Master in and send him to his bed in my living room. That dog has more beds than the Queen of England.
Master plops down and looks at me like he knows something’s up—a crinkled forehead and wide, alert eyes sharply focused on my face.
“Who’s in that bedroom, boy? Who the hell is in that bedroom?”
CHAPTER SIX
That evening, after I’ve shaken off what I can of the toxic fear stirring inside, I slide on my thick red coat and snow boots again.
I’ve got to talk to Bard.
I’d call, but he doesn’t believe in cell phones, and he rarely answers his landline. Tonight is no exception. I’ve already tried twice.
I look at Master, who’s stretched out on my floral area rug next to my maroon couch. His belly is filled with a good supper of canned lamb and rice. “Don’t freak out, but I have to leave. I’ll be fine, though. I promise.” Yeah, because if I say it out loud, it’ll magically be true. “And don’t mess with my furniture, or no treat for you later.” He loves his evening dental treat.
Master’s pointy ears perk, but he doesn’t budge.
“Good. Stay that way. I happen to like my couch.” He’s been known to chew holes through doors and shred furniture to piles of unrecognizable fluff when left alone too long. I don’t know why Grandma never had him trained.
I quickly open my front door and slip outside, trying not to let the cold into the house. It takes a lot to keep it warm, and I need to conserve wood. It’s going to be a long, long winter, and I don’t want to hear Bard griping about our lack of preparations.
I trudge back up the path toward the main house, using my flashlight to guide the way. Any ground that’s been cleared of snow is iced up again and slippery. It’s got to be in the low teens, and it’ll only get colder as the night wears on. I hate winter.