Page 112 of Terror Tuesday

The storm outside picks up, and the wind blasts against a wall until some more stones crumble to the floor, causing her to jump. “It needs a little work,” I say. She widens her eyes, as if I’ve just made an obvious statement, and I can’t help but hold back a smile. “But you know how to do masonry, right?”

“Uh, I think my skills are a little rusty.”

“But you make up for it in beauty,” I tell her, brushing back some of her hair.

Still a little cautious, she wanders away a step but drags me with her. “You implied this is, um,mine.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

With a shrug, I answer honestly. “You belong with me. And this is where I live now. Or…hide out. No one knows about it, except my family. It backs up to my parents’ estate. One surrounded by high walls and guard towers. Where we’ll be safe.”

Her eyebrows stitch together with concern. “We’re on Von Dovish land?”

“You say that like you’re in enemy territory.”

“I’ve never met your family. Your father is notoriously absent from the president’s house and several board meetings. My father has discussed him, but his secrecy is legendary.” When her eyes scan my frame, I light up inside. “Like you.”

“We enjoy solitude, he and I. My brothers…my sisters, not so much.”

“And your mother?”

I envision my mom with her AK and machine guns, then chuckle, remembering how skillfully my Monarch took down hertarget with a knife. “She makes herself known when she needs to…likeyou.”

She considers my answer for a moment but doesn’t press it. Raising our hands, she points toward the entrance of the chapel. “Want to give me the rest of the tour?”

“Sure.”

Using one of the chambersticks to guide us with a frail light, I take the lead and escort her to the various rooms. A draft blows through the halls, whistling wherever we go.

When we reach the kitchens, she balks at the state they’re in.

“You’ve been hiding out here?”

“Sometimes.”

“It looks like it was in a big fire.”

Casting a glance over the blackened stones, I nod. “It was. A big one back in the day.” I tug her toward the staircase. “Come on. Before you get scared away, I’ll show you what I’ve done for you.”

Now that she’s here…and nearly willing to stay, maybe I can finally begin the restoration. I could’ve done it years ago. But I waited. Because I didn’t want to build a home for someone who hadn’t chosen it yet. I wanted her voice in every room. Her touch in every space. This place isn’t just for her.

It’sours. Or it will be.

Up the stairs and down the creaky halls, I lead her to an alcove with double doors, then throw them open dramatically.

Her hand clutches her chest. “Oh my god. It’s gorgeous!”

The main bedroom is at the back of a parlor, but I brought a bed in just for us. Topped it with a canopy and string lights, then used some of the overgrown ivy from the grounds to decorate it. Found an old sofa and a folding table with two chairs to make it homey.

“There’s a fridge!”

“Dinner is served,” I tell her, pointing toward the covered dishes lit by a candelabra. The appliances I’d used to reheat the stuff from our chef are hooked into the solar batteries stored beneath the bed.

She must be hungry as she dives for a chair and reveals the meal. “I’ve never had lobster in a ruined mansion.”

“Until now.” I open the chilled bottle of white wine and offer her some, then fill my cup.