Sempre (Sempre 1)

“What happens if there’s a power failure, sir?”

“It’s on a backup generator.”

“And if the generator doesn’t work?”

“Then I suppose you’ll stay locked inside until power’s restored.”

“Will I have a code?”

“Maybe someday, when I feel I can trust you with one,” he said. “After what you pulled in Blackburn, I’m sure you can understand my position. I’m a lot closer to civilization than they were.”

She couldn’t understand his position, refused to try. “What happens if there’s an emergency?”

“There are ways around the system, but I don’t foresee any situations that require you to know those tricks.”

“But what if there’s a fire and I need to get out?”

Dr. DeMarco gazed at her. “You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?” Before she could respond, he turned away. “I’ll show you around.”

Straight in front of them was the family room, with several couches and a television on one of the walls. A fireplace was tucked in the back beside a piano, the wooden floor shining from the glow of the moon streaming through the large windows. To the left was a kitchen filled with stainless-steel appliances, an island in the center with pots and pans hanging above it. The dining room behind that had the longest table Haven had ever seen, big enough to accommodate fourteen. She wondered how often all those seats were taken, unable to imagine cooking for that many people. To the right were a bathroom and a laundry room, as well as an office tucked underneath the staircase.

The second floor belonged to Dr. DeMarco—a bedroom and a bathroom, along with another office and a spare room. Some of the doors had keypads beside them, a sign Haven wouldn’t be going into those rooms.

They continued up to the third floor, the stairs ending in a large open space. A window lined the back wall, in front of it stood a table with two plush gray chairs. The other three walls held doors leading to bedrooms, but the area itself was packed full of bookcases. Hundreds of dusty books lined the shelves. Haven stared in shock, having never dreamed of seeing so many before.

“Our library,” Dr. DeMarco said. “It doesn’t get much use and I imagine it still won’t, considering Antonelli said you couldn’t read.”

Haven could feel his eyes on her, but she remained quiet and didn’t meet his gaze.

A door opened nearby and a boy stepped out from one of the bedrooms. He was tall and lanky, with shaggy brown hair. Dr. DeMarco turned to him. “Dominic, this is, uh . . . She’s going to be staying here.”

Dominic eyed her curiously. “Hey.”

“Hello, sir,” she said, her voice shaky.

His laughter echoed through the room. “Oh, that won’t do. Just call me Dom.”

Dom headed downstairs as Dr. DeMarco led her across the library, striding past the middle door without a word and stopping at the last. “This is where you’ll sleep. Go in. I’ll be back.”

Haven hesitantly stepped inside. The furniture, the curtains, and the carpet were all plain, everything a dull white with dustings of wood. Most of the house held the same effect, the walls empty and rooms uncluttered. There were no pictures and no knick-knacks, nothing to hold any sentimental value. Nothing to give her any idea of what type of people she was dealing with.

She still stood just inside the doorway when Dr. DeMarco returned with a pile of clothes. “They’ll be big, but at least they’re clean.”

She took them. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Get cleaned up and settle in. This is your home now, too.”

He’d said it again. Home. She had lived with the Antonellis her entire life and never heard it referred to as home.

Dr. DeMarco walked away but stopped after a few steps. “Oh, and help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’re hungry, but don’t try to burn down my house. Doing so won’t get you a code any faster. I’ll let you burn to death before I let you outsmart me.”

* * *

Haven ran her hand along the fluffy comforter. She’d never had a bed before, much less a bedroom of her own. Her nights in Blackburn had been spent in the stables, in a back stall on a worn-down mattress with some of the springs exposed. The temperature was comfortable there at night, so she hadn’t had much use for blankets, one of the ratty covers they kept for the horses enough for the occasions it did get cold. She preferred not to use them, because they were itchy on her skin, nothing like the material against her fingertips now.

After stripping out of her old clothes, Haven went into the connecting bathroom. A large tub sat in the corner with a long counter and a sink across from it, a rectangular mirror on the wall above the sink.

Hesitantly, Haven surveyed her reflection, her sunken cheeks and the cuts covering her face. A bruise ran along the right side of her jaw while blood caked her hairline from a gash in her forehead.