My first disappointment of the day is the realization that there is no hot water. Why would a place have a bathroom with no hot water? Also, who the hell would I call to fix a plumbing issue?
Never mind, Pie. You’re not gonna be here that long.
I go down to the kitchen—ha. I should’ve looked harder at this last night. There is a wood stove to cook on, but no electricity, so no refrigerator. Also, no food in any of the cupboards. So the monster was probably telling the truth when he said we would need groceries.
But again. Not gonna be here that long. If I have to fast for a day, I can deal.
Unfortunate thing number three this morning is that I don’t have clothes. Just this stupid schoolgirl uniform from two days ago.
There is a closet, and it even has clothes in it, but a whole flock of moths fly out the moment I opened the door.
So. No outfit change.
I pump some water into a bowl and finger-scrub my teeth, then take a deep breath and walk out of the cottage to go find Tomas. I hurry up the hill, trying my best not to look at the cemetery. The statues in the daylight are horrifying. Just monster after monster after monster. And the tombs are just as creepy. Each one of them has a door. No, door is the wrong word. They are gaping black holes in the stone walls.
I can’t see past the blackness—thank God—but I don’t need to see what’s inside those things to understand I need to stay away from them. I direct my eyes back to the cathedral and walk faster.
The grounds are eerily silent as I make my way up to the double doors that lead into the bottom-level entry hall. No birds, no wind, no rustling. Just silence.
Inside I face a moment of indecision when I come face to face with the three staircases. I know the middle one leads up to the top entrance hall I’m familiar with, but the other two are a mystery. And they are obviously part of the magic of this place because I’ve already established that this cathedral—while impressive and tall, from the back side, at least—is not wide enough to accommodate the interior of this space.
A flutter high up in the ceiling draws my attention away from my choices to where it should be.
“Pia?” I call up to the sound, then sigh when my friend fails to appear.
Either that’s not her or she’s not mine anymore.
Both of those realizations make my stomach sick so I push it away for now and climb up the center staircase. It feels like a very long walk this morning. Yesterday I went up and down this thing a few times without thinking about how many steps there actually are, but I don’t have that same adrenaline rush right now.
Once up at the top I head straight to the apothecary room. The door is ajar so I just push it the rest of the way open and take a step inside. “Hello?” I say it softly. Like this place is a church. I’m pretty sure it’s not a church since it’s filled with cursed things, but there is an expectation of reverence lingering in the air in here.
No one answers me, and when I take a good look around, I realize that’s because no one is here. It’s just me, and the books, and a sense of bad luck and foreboding.
I go back out to the upper entrance hall and look around. Up, actually. Hoping for a glimpse of the bird that may or may not be Pia. I miss her. Even though I have always understood that life would’ve been a whole lot easier if she wasn’t here, I never imagined myself without her. I just made plans to cope with life with her.
So now I feel… lost. Unbalanced, even.
I want Pia back. I want to leave this place. I want to get in my Jeep and go to stupid Toledo so I can overstay my welcome on Jacqueline’s couch and then beg her to let me be her babysitter forever and ever.
My eyes gravitate to the massive front door and then, without thinking, I’m walking towards it. Pulling it open. Stepping out onto the front steps.
The gray is still there, the fog rolling around at the edge of things. But it’s sentient or something. Like it can sense me. Because it begins rolling my way, trying to make me reconsider the idea that I might be able to walk out of here. I might be able to find that gate and get back to the real world.
“Good morning.”
I startle and turn to find Tomas standing next to me holding a cup of coffee. He stretches his neck and back, like any person would when they first wake up and take stock of the day before them. And he’s shirtless again, wearing only a pair of pinstriped pajama pants. I get caught up in his in body—it’s hard not to. It’s… very nice—but then I look up at his face. He’s yawning.