Midnight Bayou Read Online Free PDF Page B

through the third floor, he decided, do the same on the main level, then take the ugly green tub for a spin.
    He headed up. The tune was playing in his head again. Around and around, like a waltz. He let it come. It was company of sorts until Remy showed up.
    Many the hopes that have vanished, after the ball.
    The staircase was narrower here. This level was for children and staff, neither of whom required fancy touches.
    He’d save the servants’ wing for later, he decided, and circled around toward what he assumed were nursery, storage, attics.
    He reached for a doorknob, the brass dull with time and neglect. A draft, cold enough to pierce bone, swept down the corridor. He saw his breath puff out in surprise, watched it condense into a thin cloud.
    As his hand closed over the knob, nausea rose up so fast, so sharp, it stole his breath again. Cold sweat pearled on his brow. His head spun.
    In an instant he knew a fear so huge, so great, he wanted to run screaming. Instead he stumbled back, braced himself against the wall while terror and dread choked him like murderous hands.
    Don’t go in there. Don’t go in.
    Wherever the voice in his head came from, he was inclined to listen to it. He knew the house was rumored to be haunted. He didn’t mind such things.
    Or thought he didn’t mind them.
    But the idea of opening that door to whatever was behind it, to whatever waited on the other side, was more than he cared to face alone. On an empty stomach. After a ten-hour drive.
    “Just wasting time anyway,” he said for the comfort of his own voice. “I should be unloading the car. So, I’m going to unload the car.”
    “Who you talking to, cher ?”
    Declan jumped like a basketball center at the tip-off, and barely managed to turn a scream into a moreacceptable masculine yelp. “God damn it, Remy. You scared the shit out of me.”
    “You’re the one up here talking to a door. I gave a few shouts on my way up. Guess you didn’t hear.”
    “Guess I didn’t.”
    Declan leaned back against the wall, sucked in air and studied his friend.
    Remy Payne had the cocky good looks of a con artist. He was tailor-made for the law, Declan thought. Slick, sharp, with cheerful blue eyes and a wide mouth that could, as it was now, stretch like rubber into a disarming smile that made you want to believe everything he said, even as you caught the distinctive whiff of bullshit.
    He was on the skinny side, never had been able to bulk up despite owning the appetite of an elephant. In college he’d worn his deep-brown hair in a sleek mane over his collar. He’d shortened it now so it was almost Caesarean in style.
    “I thought you said a couple hours.”
    “Been that. Damn near two and a half. You okay there, Dec? Look a little peaky.”
    “Long drive, I guess. God, it’s good to see you.”
    “ ’Bout time you mentioned that.” With a laugh, he caught Declan in a bear hug. “Whoo, boy. You been working out. Turn around, lemme see your ass.”
    “You idiot.” They slapped backs. “Tell me one thing,” Declan remarked as he took a step back. “Am I out of my fucking mind?”
    “ ’Course you are. Always have been. Let’s go on down and have ourselves a drink.”
    T hey settled in what had once been the gentlemen’s parlor, on the floor with a pepperoni pizza and a bottle of Jim Beam.
    The first shot of bourbon went down like liquid silkand untied all the knots in Declan’s belly. The pizza was good and greasy, and made him decide the strangeness he’d experienced had been a result of fatigue and hunger.
    “You planning on living like this for long, or buying yourself a chair or two?”
    “Don’t need a chair or two.” Declan took the bottle back from Remy, swigged down bourbon. “Not for now anyway. I wanted to cut things down to the bone for a while. I got the bedroom stuff. Might toss a table up in the kitchen. I start buying furniture, it’ll just be in the way while I’m working on this place.”
    Remy