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Brushing my fingers across my forehead, I mentally run through the last few minutes. I must’ve sleep-walked again.

At the sound of something shifting in the walls, I freeze in place, eyes fixed on the surrounding darkness, and I focus on its source. Someone, or something, on the main floor.

Long strides. Human.

Right here is the safest place in the house, I’m betting, though it would suck if whoever is out there decided to camp in the house for the night, leaving me trapped in the heart of it, surrounded by a bunch of satanic crap.

Standing up from the chair, I wait. Listen.

Seconds turn to minutes, while the footsteps thump against the chamber’s ceiling. Whoever’s up there must be scoping the house out, and my hope is that the hole in the wall will be ignored, seeing as there really wasn’t anything that looked to be of any value in the reading room with the secret door.

The door.

Left open.

If someone did find me down here, I’d be trapped with them. No other doors, or means of escape from this chamber.

A minute passes with no footsteps.

Another minute.

Counting off in my head brings me to three more minutes, which actually feels like twenty, and no further movement. I tuck the envelope with the chip and business card back inside the file of what I’m still not entirely certain is my mother’s, and gather it up, along with my lantern, the music box, the leather-bound book, and the weird goat statue. All things I want to study a little closer—minus the morbid picture that I’m certain will give me nightmares later.

Arms full, I take careful steps up the winding staircase, back up to the reading room, and after piling everything onto the floor just inside the cubby, I flick off the light. With careful placement of my hands, I try to avoid any creaking boards and peek through the door, where, ahead of me, I can spy the hole in the wall, thanks to the moonlight through the window.

I wait. Watching for a flicker of a flashlight.

Nothing but stillness.

Seconds tick off in my head, and when another minute passes, I slip through the door and push to my feet.

A force hits my throat, and the air trapped there explodes past my lips. My body flies backward. A hard surface hits my spine, sending a zap of pain down my back, and I flinch at the ache. Blinding light hits my face, and I clamp my eyes closed to shield against it as best I can.

Adrenaline finally kicking in, I grip the arm at my throat, taking in the tight muscles. Firm grip. Rough hands.

“I don’t know who you are, but you better let me go,” I grit out past the waning air in my throat.

The grip softens only a little, just enough for me to notice the light stroke of a thumb along the edge of my neck. The flashlight lowers just enough that I can see the sharp jawline, dark intelligent eyes. Finally, I smell the warm scent of cinnamon on his breath.

Thierry.

He doesn’t release me, his hand still holding my neck, and I’m certain he could snap it with little effort, if he wanted.

“What is your business here?” he growls, as if he’s angry with the discovery. The hostility burning in his eyes right now could light this whole damn place on fire.

“None of your business.”

“Au contraire. It’s very much my business, and if you don’t talk, well, I might just have to call the authorities. Or make you talk, myself.” The charming tone of his voice doesn’t match his words. Like the devil whistling a tune while he carves out a soul. “You’re trespassing on private property, chère.” He finally releases my throat, and the light flickers as he tucks the flashlight under his arm. Strange how the shadows seem to dance over him, as if he and the darkness are longtime friends.

It’s as he’s removing his gloves that my mind begins to contemplate the possibilities of why he’s here. Why he’s wearing gloves, when it’s so damn muggy that it’s a wonder I haven’t drowned on the humidity in the air.

The phantom sensation of his hand still lingers where I rub my throat. “Place looks abandoned to me.”

“What looks isn’t what is. You need to leave. Immediately.”

“Well, that’s a problem, see. I’m not going anywhere.”

Blowing out an exasperated sigh, he tucks his gloves into his pocket. “I’m not going to lie. It’s your attitude that I find most irresistible about you. But in this case, you won’t win. You’ll leave, as I told you.”