Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that the last thing she ate was a pack of tasteless crackers on the airplane. She needed food, if the mice had left anything. Naked, she walked to the bathroom and checked her clothes, but they were still wet from the deluge of rain that welcomed her the moment she arrived, which wouldn’t have been a problem if the airline hadn’t lost her luggage. She’d been so glad to see a bed, she hadn’t worried about putting her clothes in the dryer.
She picked the driest thing, a damp T-shirt, and slipped it over her head, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Bourbon, courtesy of the drunk on the airplane. Oh well, the mice wouldn’t care if she went commando and smelled like a brewery.
She cracked a window to air out the room and saw the two-story brick manor next door. The MacBain house. Her eyes sought out the dark window on the top floor. Her heart gave a little kick.
Another soft noise from downstairs sent a chill up her as she remembered huddling in the darkness, afraid to breathe. Shay grabbed the silver candlestick and moved to the door. She felt safer with something heavy in her hand, even against mice. Her bare feet padded across the hall toward the stairs. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. That bulb was always burning out. It didn’t matter. She’d spent most of her life in this house. She could walk it blindfolded. Stepping lightly, she avoided the squeaky fourth step and heard the noise again, so soft she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. Her hand brushed the banister at the bottom as she stepped into the foyer. Another sound registered in her head. Not tiny claws, but the creak of a footstep. Something cold and hard pressed against the back of her head.