Page 153 of Gemini Queen
That means I tripped the circuit breaker for the house again.
I better go down to the basement and flip the switch, or this whole house will be an icebox by sunup.
I fumble around my desk for the candle and matches I’ve started keeping, which we all use (very atmospherically) whenever the power goes out. I light a candlestick without much difficulty, unlock my bedroom door, and tiptoe into the hall—careful to close the door behind me to trap the fire’s residual warmth.
The hallway overlooks the great room, but I can’t see much down there. Even the hall is barely lit by the last moonlight seeping through the tall arched window at the end. Racetrack’s door is open and it’s dark inside, but Dez’s door is closed. With those psychic senses I’m starting to hone, I sense the two of them in there, also down for the count.
As I pad past, a hearty snore seeps under that closed door that makes me grin.
They’re not part of my harem, even though normally I don’t mind having a girl or two in my bed. But they’re not in my bed and they won’t be, in part because Dez and Racetrack are monogamous, and in part because those two aren’t my type. (I go for the sleek runway supermodel type like Cleo, and look how well that’s working out.) But mainly, as much as I love seeing my guys totally fall for each other, I’m feeling way too possessive to share them with any other girl. And we all do share in my harem, everyone with everyone else, because that’s the way I roll.
Still, Dez and Racetrack are mine in a different way. They’re my courtiers, they’re part of my court, and we’ll work out together what all that means. They’re maybe even… my friends. So I’m glad they’re home safe and sound.
Cupping my candle against the breeze, I shuffle down to the main level, my slippers scuffing on the stairs. The cold deepens as I descend. By the time I reach the great room, I can see my breath frosting the frigid air. The power hasn’t been out all that long, so someone must have left a window open down here. Which isn’t so great for security, given the whole dead wolf incident.
I figure I’ll get the power back on, turn on a few lights, then find the open window and close it.
I shuffle past the kitchen toward the basement stairs, which takes me past the front atrium. Here there’s an actual breeze blowing and a shrill winter wind whistling through that raises goosebumps on my skin.
With an ugly jolt, I realize the front door’s wide open.
The wood’s old and swollen, so it doesn’t close tight sometimes. Dez and Racetrack maybe left it open by mistake when they came home, because it doesn’t seem like Lucius and Vasili would’ve been that careless. Either way, I’m suddenly not quite so comfy being downstairs in this big drafty house alone.
But that door needs closing ASAP.
Hunching into my bathrobe and thankful as fuck for the fur lining, I scurry through the atrium and wrestle the door closed. It’s a two-handed job, which of course means my candle blows out in the process.
Still, I finish the job and slide the sturdy deadbolt securely in place.
Without the wind whistling, it’s really silent in the house.
And pitch black in the atrium.
My heart bumps uneasily as I tiptoe through, past the darkened kitchen, into the great room. Here, there’s enough light leaking through the courtyard windows that I can make out the looming shapes of the Renaissance couch and the settee with its high scrolling back and the central hearth. Red coals glow dimly in a pile of ash.
Seeing that homey glow makes me feel a little better. I want to relight my candle, so I head over, stir the coals with the poker, and get a little lick of flame going that pushes back against the darkness.
I’ve just replaced the poker in the rack when a floorboard creaks.
My heart gives a hard thump and I spin, even though it’s probably just one of the girls coming down for a glass of milk, or one of the guys missing me. But, for some reason, I don’t call out. I’ve been quiet as a flea since I found the door open, and I don’t see any need to change that quite yet.
Instead, I reject the idea of lighting my candle and visually announcingZara’s right hereto the whole house, and I edge away from the hearth where I’m silhouetted against the glow. I’m supposed to be going down to the basement for the fuse box, but the fluttery feeling in my chest and the squirmy sense of unease in my tummy make a very strong case against that plan. The door to the courtyard’s the other way, where at least there will be more moonlight.
But what feels like the best option, all of a sudden, is just going back up to where the guys are, getting more candles, and maybe getting one of them to come down with me and check the house.
I’ve started creeping toward the upper stairs when another floorboard gives a labored groan. I freeze where I am and don’t make a peep.
This time, I realize, the noise is coming from upstairs.
There’s someone (or, you know, something, like maybe a monster?)onthe stairs. It’s between me and where everyone else is sleeping.
And that someone or something is coming down.
Now my eyes are adjusting to the dark, and that little lick of fire is helping some, because I can actually see movement. Whatever it is, it’s big.Waybigger than one of the guys.
Big. Slow. Heavy.
It shuffles into the firelight, swaying on all fours, toenails clicking on the bare floor, the light picking out pale fur and shaggy bulk and a dark snout that swings unerringly toward me. The thing huffs out a breath and rises up… way up… on its hind legs to get a better look.
