Amerie trudged along the road, head bowed. The temperature was dropping with the sun, and wrapping her arms around herself was little help: she was wearing only a hoodie over a tanktop and worn track pants, not even socks inside her battered running shoes.
Some way back, she’d seen children in their costumes running around from house to house, supervised by parents, some in elaborate and expensive costumes, some in homemade ones, a depressing number in those cheap things that were just a printed plastic bag and a mask. She knew better than to think that all those kids had wonderful family lives, but at least they probably had a bed to sleep in tonight.
She hadn’t seen a house in a couple of minutes. Somehow, she’d walked out into the outskirts.
Maybe she should turn back. The sky was clear but that only meant no rain. It could still get cold. It shouldn’t be enough to kill at this time of year, but if she fell asleep outside with no shelter and inadequate clothing, it wasn’t impossible. At best, it was going to mean being miserably uncomfortable. She had no money, though. Maybe the folks at the diner would recognize her and let her have something hot on credit, or let her work for it. Even mopping floors would keep her indoors.
She saw a tall iron fence, with occasional stone posts supporting it and stone at the base of it. Curiously, she looked through, and saw an enormous house, all of red brick, with white framing the doors and windows. There were no lights. It had, she thought, been abandoned for as long as anyone could remember. Probably it was an important part of the town’s history, but these days, she doubted anyone spent any time thinking about it.
Maybe, even if it was locked, she could find a porch or something she could take shelter in, just for tonight. She could figure out more long-range plans in the morning, once Pete was at work. Right now, she was better off taking her chances with the cold.
She followed the fence until she reached a gate. The two huge panels were ajar; she tried to push one or the other farther in, but they wouldn’t budge. There was enough room between for her to slip through, though, so it didn’t really matter.
Up close, the expanse of lawn looked untended, scruffy and patchy, and the fountain in front of the house wasn’t only dry, but it was cracked and the stone fish and frogs were heavily overgrown with moss. The big stone triangle thing on top of the columns looked dirty, and the columns themselves were stained with rain runoff and moss. Cautiously, she made her way up the extremely broad stairs—white stone, but it was cracked and chipped at the edges—and past the columns to the wide front door. There was a metal lantern at each side, but both were dark.
She could still see the skeleton key lying on one of a pair of circular stone tables that flanked the door. It had been strung on a dark ribbon.
It wasn’t her house. Presumably it belonged to someone, and going inside would be trespassing.
Was it worse than her other options?
Maybe if she just took a quick look, to see whether there was anyone around…
She picked up the key. The door did prove to be locked, but the key fit and turned with surprising ease. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, slipping the key absently into the pocket of her hoodie.
There was light coming from the full-length painted-glass windows flanking the door, and from further windows on the outer face of the corridor, but it was hard to see far through the wide doorway into the darkness. What she could see whispered of past glory: the walls were panelled in golden wood that must have been beautiful when it was being cared for, and the floor beneath her was seamless tile in an elaborate white and amber pattern. She could see no furniture from here, only a wide passage in front of her, and a corridor running to either side.
Being out of the chill wind was a blessing. It might be even warmer farther in, and easier to stay out of sight, but she’d take being less than completely blind any day.
She looked to either side. Somehow, it looked just a bit brighter to the right, so she went that way.
She stepped into a room with walls papered with what must have been climbing vines and pink roses on a white background. The dusty rug on the floor showed traces of roses and vines as well. There was furniture here, covered with white sheets, but she could see wooden feet peeking out from beneath.
There was quite a large window, but it had an inner layer of stained glass, again portraying red roses and green vines on an ivory and pale blue background. No one outside would be able to see her, unless they pressed right up close to peek in through one of the missing sections of coloured glass, and on the whole, that seemed unlikely.
In the middle of the room was a covered sofa, and that was possibly the most welcome sight of all.
She barely had to touch it to release a poof of dust. Sitting on that was an invitation to a violent bout of every possible respiratory irritation. Carefully, she folded each side inward, then the top down and the bottom up, and bundled the whole thing up to set it on a nearby chair. The sofa’s fabric was stained yellowish around the roses and leaves, and the wood framing was scratched and peeling, but when she gingerly sat on it, it felt sturdy. She lay down, closing her eyes.
For the moment, she was safe. It would likely get chilly deep in the night, especially with those enormous windows, but closing the heavy drapes would shut out what light there was, and it would still be much better than outside. No one knew she was here. Pete, above all, wouldn’t find her. She felt her thumping heart gradually slow, her breathing grow deeper and smoother, her tight muscles beginning to relax.
“Oh, you poor dear girl.”
Amerie jolted back to alertness, heart suddenly pounding with painful force.
A tall, regal woman in dark archaic clothing was leaning over her; Amerie didn’t jerk back quickly enough to keep one cool pale hand from cupping her cheek.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Peace, now. I have no desire to hurt you or force you back out into the cold and whatever danger you’re fleeing. You’re safe.” The woman’s voice was deep and rich, every syllable clear, with a very faint accent Amerie couldn’t immediately identify, and it was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.