Darkness Becomes Her Read Online Free PDF Page A

cast-iron fences and spread across the community in a tangle of vines and weeds.
    Crank turned down First Street, and it was like we’d gone a hundred years back in time. Despite the chipped paint, rotted boards, busted railings, and cracked, broken, or boarded-up windows, the houses stood like dignified street sentinels surrounded by ancient live oaks draped in the gray, ragged shawls of Spanish moss.
    The truck turned onto Coliseum Street and then stopped suddenly, brakes whining, sending me flying forward until my seat belt clicked and stopped me from going through the windshield. I flew back against the seat, heart pounding as Crank shoved the gear into neutral, pressed the parking brake, and turned off the engine.
    Leftover vibrations from the rumbling truck continued through me, and my ears felt like they were encased in muffs.
    “Home sweet home,” Crank said loudly. “Come on.”
    I hopped out with the box and slung my backpack over my shoulder. My feet hit solid ground. The impulse to drop to my knees and thank God I’d made it out alive went through me, butI stayed still, taking a second to regain my equilibrium.
    “This way,” Crank’s voice echoed in the darkness.
    I stepped onto the broken sidewalk and craned my head back at the tall shadow looming above us.
Wow.
    The house on the corner of First and Coliseum was set in a jungle of trees and overgrown lawn, surrounded by a black iron fence. It was tall and rectangular, two stories high with faded mauve paint, lacy wrought-iron railings and scrollwork along the double porches, and black plantation shutters framing the large windows. A few dim lights shone through the panes, muted by dark curtains, dirt, and grime.
    I loved it immediately—beauty shadowed by time and decay, but still standing proud. Yeah, this was my kind of place.
    Feeling a little better about my spontaneous decision to come to New 2, I followed Crank through the main gate, which supported a thick, climbing tangle of small, fragrant white flowers— the same kind that wound up the side of the house and twined through the second-floor railing. A black lantern hung suspended from the roof of the second-story porch above us.
    “Cool, huh?” Crank said over her shoulder as she opened the front door.
    “You live here?”
    “Yup. Well, we don’t technically
own
it, but no one ever came back to claim it, so now it’s ours. There’s a bunch of empty onesin the GD—that’s what we call the Garden District. The better ones have all been snagged by squatters, but this one ain’t half bad. Some rooms are worse than others, but otherwise it’s good.” She held out her hand. “Twenty for the ride and forty for the room.”
    “Oh, right.” I set my backpack on the porch and fished for my wallet, pulling out three twenties and placing them in Crank’s open hand.
    We entered into a large hardwood foyer with a wide staircase along one wall, the bottom half of it curving gently toward the front door. The base fanned out like honey spilled from a jar. Hanging on a long chain attached to the second-floor ceiling was a large wrought-iron chandelier, so fine and detailed it looked like it had been spun from some magical metalworking spider. The walls on either side of the foyer had wide openings leading to other rooms.
    To the right was a massive dining room with a long, stately table and ten high-backed chairs. There was a faded mural on the ceiling, and burgundy-and-gold wallpaper that was faded and peeling in places. Black sconces burned, minus the two that didn’t work, in spaced intervals around the room, and two tall windows were framed with cornices and heavy old burgundy curtains.
    “Neat, huh?” Crank stood beside me. “We call it The Crypt ’cause it looks like something from a vampire movie.”
    “Nice,” I murmured.
    Some of the floorboards were rotting. I avoided those as we headed for the stairs. The wallpaper in the foyer was missing or peeling in places just like in the