Kandace scurried to the first doorway she came to, turning the handle—it was open, thank God—slipping into the darkened interior and pulling it closed behind her. Blood whooshed in her head as the conversation grew louder. Kandace’s ears pricked, her muscles held taut as she attempted to control her breathing, struggled not to make even the tiniest noise. It sounded as if the two women talking had stopped nearby and were engaged in an argument. Kandace couldn’t make out the words, but she listened as their voices rose and fell in heated debate.
Kandace took a small step back so she could lean more fully against the wall and the ancient wood beneath her feet creaked loudly. The voices outside the door ceased and Kandace cringed. Shit.
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she saw that she was standing at the top of a set of wooden steps that turned the corner halfway down, traveling lower into some space she couldn’t see from where she stood.
Footsteps were approaching the door. Kandace stepped as carefully as she dared while still racing to beat whoever was about to open the door. She ducked around the stairwell corner just as the door above was pulled open, a wide shaft of light filling the space and spilling around the bend where she now stood, back pressed against the wall, breath held.
“This door is supposed to be locked at all times.” A woman’s voice, one she didn’t recognize.
“One of them must have forgotten,” the other woman murmured. “We’ll let Ms. Wykes know.”
“Don’t,” the other woman whispered. “I mean . . . don’t they have it rough enough as it is?”
The other woman didn’t answer but Kandace heard the click of a lock being turned and then the door was pulled closed, shutting out the light. Kandace blew out a slow breath. The stairwell was dark, dank. It smelled like mildew and dirt. It must lead to some sort of a basement storage area. There had to be a back way out, right? A window? Even a small one? Something . . .
God, I’m screwed. She needed to get out of there as quickly as possible and pray to God her absence hadn’t been noticed.
She stepped down into a wide-open space, the floor concrete, the walls open rafters, a dim light coming from somewhere beyond and barely illuminating the space enough so that she could see where she was stepping.
Boxes and random pieces of furniture littered the area. Several beds, their springs rusty, were piled near the wall, with a few pieces of luggage in front of them. Kandace stepped toward the suitcases and backpacks, attempting to spot her own. She turned away. What did it matter anyway? Other than the drugs, which she assumed had been flushed the day she’d arrived—and what a shame because she sure could use to get high right about now—the only thing she’d brought were clothes and toiletries, and those would be useless here at Lilith House.
Kandace scurried between two piles of rotting boxes, heading farther into the recesses of the basement, toward that seemingly faraway muted glow of light.
An eerie snickering sound came from the darkness to her right where the light didn’t reach and she whirled toward it, her pulse jumping. For a moment she simply stood there frozen, her heart thumping as she stared into the pitch-black. Something shifted and Kandace jerked backward as it came rushing at her from out of the gloom. A skull. White bones. The scream on her lips ended in an expelled whoosh of air as she hurled herself backward, tripping and falling onto a pile of boxes and refuse, raising her hands in defense as the thing hurtled toward her, attacking.
A flood of adrenaline threw Kandace into fight mode, and she shoved the thing away with her arms and kicked at it with her legs, panting with terror as she crawled quickly from beneath it and jumped to her feet, whirling back around, prepared to fight it off again. Instead . . . she blinked, still panting, but leaning closer, a small hysterical laugh rising in her throat. She leaned forward and grabbed the thing, pulling it upright.
It was a fully intact anatomical skeleton like the ones used in classrooms, standing on a pair of rickety wheels. “Holy shit,” she muttered, pushing it away from her. It rolled backward toward the gloomy corner. “Holy shit,” she repeated.
She didn’t think anyone could have heard her scuffling about with the skeleton in