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guest bedroom or similar.
    “Want any more food, buddy?” she asked Wolfgang as she passed him on the way to the kettle. He followed her progress with the one open eye, but a low, rumbling purr told her he would be staying right where he was.
    Adrienne reused the teabag from her earlier cup to make a fresh brew then retrieved the book from the suitcase, turned the light off, and snuggled into her makeshift bed fully clothed.
    She’d intended to read by firelight for an hour or two before sleeping, but the day had worn on her more than she’d expected, and she soon let the book sag so that she could watch the dancing flames and her fluffy pet. The fire’s light caught in gaps between the floorboards, making them look like black lines scoring the floor.
    “We’re going to be okay here,” she told him as she tried to ignore the eerie sensation that the long, pale face could be watching her from one of the corners where the shadows gathered thickest.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Guests
     
    A hundred thousand tiny scratches had cut into the wood, but it still wasn’t enough. Her fingers kept scrabbling. Their nails had been chipped down to nothing, the skin scabbed and cracked; her bleached-white eyes stared sightlessly, and her breathing was a low, rhythmic grating as her fingers kept working. She wouldn’t rest. Not when she was so close.
    The scrabbling echoed in the tiny, cramped space, seeming to drown her.
    So close.
    More splinters broke off under her fingers, raining onto her white cheeks and black dress. She was so close to breaking through the wood and reaching the heavy, moist, dirt packed above her.
     
    — § —
     
    Adrienne started awake. A heavy weight pressed onto her chest, suffocating her, and she’d raised her hands with a panicked cry to fight it off. Then she felt it shift and realised what it was.
    Sometime during the night, Wolfgang had migrated from the hearthside rug to sleep on top of her. The fire must have burnt down to the point where her body was the warmer haven.
    He was heavy enough to be uncomfortable, though, and Adrienne carefully moved the cat off so that he lay beside her. He yawned, stretched, and settled down for a longer nap.
    I had a dream. What was it? Something about not being able to breathe… being trapped… trying to claw my way out…
    She looked down at her fingers. They were whole and her stubby nails intact. She blinked, trying to recall the dream, but the effort was like trying to chase water while it soaked into the ground.
    Morning was well underway. Sunlight, muted by the grime, washed through the windows and painted patterns over the carpet and furniture. The room was still reasonably warm, but she could sense it was quickly growing colder as frosty outside air ate away at the lingering heat from the fire.
    She slipped out of the makeshift bed, being careful not to disturb Wolfgang any more than she had to, and shimmied into a jacket.
    First full day in our new house. What do we need to do? Getting food is a priority—but even before I figure out a way to the town, I need a shower.
    She hadn’t brushed her teeth the night before, and her mouth tasted like something had died in it. She grimaced and ran her hands through her hair, trying to keep the loose strands out of her face, and then poured out fresh food for Wolfgang. His apathy vanished at the sound of rattling kibble, and he had his face planted in the bowl before she’d finished pouring.
    “Calm down; you’re not going to starve.” She scratched the top of his head, put the cat food onto a shelf, and took her towel and toiletries out of the suitcase before returning to the hallway.
    The lamp waited on the little table at the base of the stairs, but she left it there. The morning sun was strong enough to light the narrow steps and the rooms above. She took the climb quickly and found herself back in the painting-lined hallway.
    The portraits were clearer in the daylight, and even Adrienne, who lacked any kind of