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the next mark, and I was an expert unpacker.
    There was still space on my side of the closet when I was done.
    “Knock-knock.” Lia’s voice was high and clear. She didn’t wait for permission before coming into the room, and I realized with a start that she’d changed clothes.
    The boots had been replaced with ballet flats, and she’d traded the tight black pants for a lacy, flowing skirt. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, and even her eyes looked softer.
    It was like she’d given herself a makeover—or switched personalities altogether.
    First Michael, now Lia
. I wondered if he’d picked up the trick of changing clothing styles from her, or if she’d gotten it from him. Given that Lia was the one who specialized in deception, my money was on the former.
    “Are you finished unpacking yet?” she asked.
    “I’m still working on some stuff,” I said, busying myself with the dresser.
    “No. You’re not.”
    I’d never considered myself a liar until that moment, when Lia’s ability took the option away.
    “Look, those serial killer pictures give new meaning to the word
creepy
.” Lia leaned back against the doorjamb. “I was here for six weeks before someone told me that Grandma and Gramps were actually Faye and Ray Copeland, who were convicted of killing five people and made a cozy little quilt out of their clothes. Trust me, it’s better that you know now.”
    “Thanks,” I said dryly.
    “Anyway,” Lia said, dragging out the word, “Judd gives crappy tours. He’s a surprisingly decent cook, and he’s got eyes in the back of his head, but he’s not exactly what one would call
chatty
, and unless we’re about to burn the place down, he’s pretty hands-off. I thought you might want a real tour. Or that you might have some questions.”
    I wasn’t sure that a person renowned for her skill at lying was the ideal information source
or
tour guide, but I wasn’t about to turn down a peace offering, and I did have one question.
    “Where’s my roommate?”
    “Where she always is,” Lia replied innocently. “The basement.”
    — — —
    The basement ran the length of the house and stretched out underneath the front and back yards. From the bottom of the stairs, all I could see was two enormous white walls that ran the width of the space, but didn’t quite reach thefourteen-foot ceilings. There was a small space between where one wall ended and the next began.
    An entrance.
    I walked toward it. Something exploded, and I jumped backward, my hands flying up in front of my face.
    Glass
, I thought belatedly.
Shattering glass
.
    A second later, I realized that I couldn’t see the source of the sound. I lowered my hands and looked back at Lia, who hadn’t so much as flinched.
    “Is that normal?” I asked her.
    She gave a graceful little shrug. “Define
normal.”
    A girl poked her head out from behind one of the partitions. “Conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern.”
    The first thing I noticed about the girl—other than the chipper tone in her voice and the fact that she had literally just defined
normal
—was her hair. It was blond, glow-in-the-dark pale, and stick straight. The ends were uneven and her blunt-cut bangs were too short, like she’d chopped them off herself.
    “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing safety goggles?” Lia asked.
    “It is possible that my goggles have been compromised.” With that, the girl disappeared back behind the partition.
    Based on the self-satisfied curve of Lia’s lips, I was going to go out on a limb and guess that I had just met my roommate.
    “Sloane, Cassie,” Lia said with a grand gesture. “Cassie, Sloane.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I said. I took a few steps forward, until I was standing in the space between the partitions and could see what they had hidden before. A narrow hallway stretched out in front of me. It was lined with rooms on either side. Each room had only three walls.
    Immediately to my left, I found