Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“Kai?” I called again, looking ahead. “Kai, are you down there?”

Of course, he didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t hear me anymore.

I sped up my steps and headed down the tunnel, coming to another stairwell. I looked up, unable to see the top. It just kept going.

I swallowed, my throat so dry. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours.

Well, up was good, at least. The top must come out on ground level.

I jogged up, repeatedly glancing behind me to make sure no creepy things were on my tail. My muscles began to burn, and I slowed a little, not used to such a steep incline. Where did this go?

Reaching the top, I spotted a door opening into a room, just like the one I came through.

I reached out and pushed the wall open a little more to get a better look, the partition easily sliding away. What the hell was this?

I stepped into a massive room with vaulted ceilings and furnishings. Hardwood floors gleamed in the light coming from the burning fireplace, and a long, Persian rug laid under the black leather couches and fancy wooden tables. Art adorned the walls, a silver lamp sat on a desk strewn with papers, and I heard music coming from somewhere outside the study.

My pulse raced.

I followed the sound through the room and stepped into a large foyer, my head falling back and my eyes taking in the empty space above me as I turned in a circle.

“Oh, my God.” I trembled.

Another room, a living room, I think, sat across the hall, a wide staircase rose behind me, and two other hallways stretched on either side of the stairs, leading to the back of the…

House.

This was a house.

His house.

Everything I expected Kai’s house to be and more.

I could smell the fresh paint as I took in the ornate frames that adorned the pictures on the walls, and the beautiful tables, chairs, and sofas spread out throughout the study and living room. A crystal chandelier hung above me, tinkling with the slight breeze coming in from the tunnel.

It was a house designed by a man who cared about detail, reflecting both his Japanese and Italian heritages. Sleek, balanced, and uncluttered, but also ornate, rich in detail, and lush like a European manor.

I walked up the black staircase, following the music as my body flooded with adrenaline. Did his friends know about this place?

It was large and spacious, but also dark and cozy. Like a hidden chamber shrouded from the outside world.

Like he’d created his own personal confessional right here.

Or…his own Bell Tower, grave, The Pope…

Upstairs, I trailed down hallways, following the soft voice singing a song I finally recognized to be some version of Paint It, Black, and I passed a bedroom with the door open and stopped.

The black, four-poster bed was perfectly made, white sheets, comforter, and pillows, and I stepped in, seeing a framed picture on the wall. A black night with a red sun, rain, cranes flying…

And there was that Japanese symbol in the center again. The same one from Sensou’s sign.

War. That’s what it meant. Just like the name of the place.

I heard the shower shut off, and I walked toward the doorway, turning a corner toward the en suite.

Kai stood at the large, round mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist, combing his hands through his hair. Droplets of water glistened on his back, and steam filled the room.

“Kai.”