Page 18 of Buried Souls
Yet the creak comes again—one tread higher this time, as if someone, orsomething, is moving carefully along the upper floor, just out of sight.
I head back toward the kitchen, my breath shallow and trembling. The fire flickers violently. The light dims.
Then dies.
Total darkness swallows me.
I spin, raising my hand blindly in the pitch black, but come up empty. My palm meets not wood, but wallpaper. Damp. Peeling.
The scent changes.
Gone is the subtle trace of rosewater. Now the air reeks of something sweet, like rotting fruit and formaldehyde. A coppery tang laces it—blood? No, it can’t be. And yet, itis. Faint, but unmistakable.
Then...the sound.
Breathing.
Not mine.
Deep. Ragged.Close.
I turn in place, paralyzed with dread, senses stretching in every direction.
The breathing stops.
Then a whisper, right at my ear: “Why have you come?”
I scream, stumbling backward.
The fire flares back to life on its own, its flame now flickering white, and in its strange glow, the kitchen emerges before me, once more.
I spin around, mouth gaping wide open as the fear that I felt a moment ago is replaced by wonder. “Amazing!”
The cabinets are covered in even more food than before, from roasted rabbit with green beans and pork chops with soy fried rice, to every flavor of decadent pastries imaginable. A fresh bowl of the same stew that I ate earlier stands on the kitchen table, still steaming from how freshly made it is. My mouth waters, my stomach grumbling in sync, as if agreeing.
“Nope, not going to eat anything, Elena.”
The chair that I broke stands intact, resting against the wall. The dirty floors are in pristine condition, as if they’ve only just been installed. I gawk, not believing my eyes.
“Might want to close that mouth before something flies into it.”
I whip around at the gruff voice. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was someone here.”
Rein inspects me over the rim of his glasses as he stands behind an ebony marble topped island, a long wooden spatula in his hand.
“I, uh.” I clear my throat. “I just came down to clean up the mess from before, but now I see that it’s already taken care of.”
“Yes, Nikolas doesn’t like it when things are a mess.”
I nod, wringing my hands in front of me. “So, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
Rein lifts a thick brow, an incredulous look on his face. “Said the intruder to the owner.”
Blanching from embarrassment, I turn to go.
“Since you’re awake—” he calls out, resuming his cooking. “You might as well be useful and help me out. I left some wood out by the shed. It needs to be brought in and piled up by thefireplace.” He motions in the direction of the front of the house. “You’ll find a pair of old rain boots in the shoe closet right by the door.”
I nod. “Alright.” Then a sudden idea hits me as my gaze wanders around the age-old kitchen.Why didn’t I think of this before?“Actually, I would like to ask you a few questions first, if you don’t mind.” Rein glances at me, ceasing his movements. “I’m working on a dissertation revolving around old family heirlooms and cultural landmarks, and as I’m sure you’re already aware, this house of yours is quite impressive. How old is it? What can you tell me about its previous tenants?”
