“I never go in there.” Aidan nods in the direction of the room I just left. Yeah, I noticed, I think to myself. If Aidan saw the spirit, he’s not letting on.
“Looks like no one ever does. Not that I could see much,” I add quickly. “Do any of the lights work?” I’m starting to understand that this is how luiseach lives are. One moment you’re helping a spirit, the next you’re talking about what’s for dinner. Or, in this case, what lights work.
“There’s a generator out back. But it’s not big enough to supply the whole house with power.” That’s not surprising—this house is enormous. “Most of the rooms on the second floor have electricity.” He nods at the stairs.
I guess if you can only have power in part of the house, you’d want it to be upstairs. That’s where the bedrooms usually are, where you go when it’s dark.
Or, apparently, just where I’ll be going when it’s dark, as Aidan adds, “The second floor is all yours.”
“I have the whole floor to myself?” That kind of sounds like a line out of one of those old books. The poor orphan girl taken to the mysterious mansion that she explores until she uncovers all of its secrets. Like Mary in The Secret Garden or Catherine in Northanger Abbey. Except I’m not an orphan. Right now I’m actually less of an orphan than I’ve ever been. And I have ghosts.
“My room is here on the first floor, off the kitchen.” Aidan nods toward the darkness behind the stairs. “Technically speaking, that’s the servants’ quarters, but I find that it’s the most efficient place to sleep. We haven’t had servants here for nearly a century. It went out of fashion, you know.”
I certainly don’t know anything about the fashion of having servants. Besides, I’m too distracted by the fact that Aidan just said nearly a century, like it wasn’t even all that long of a time. Just how old is he exactly? Victoria was sixty-seven years old and looked at least half that age—and she’d been Aidan’s student.
“There are another couple of bedrooms right beside my own, but I thought you’d want more privacy than that.” He sounds almost shy, like the needs of a teenage girl are a total mystery to him. He doesn’t offer to carry my bag upstairs. Maybe he wants me to know the second floor is mine and mine alone, a totally private sanctuary. Maybe he got the generator for me too.
For the second time today I’m tempted to hug him, but I stop myself, rubbing sweaty palms together instead. The constant chill that permeated the space just outside the house—the presence of spirits—doesn’t seem to reach the air inside the mansion. But I actually miss the chill. We’ve only been inside a few minutes, and I’m already sweating (not that I want to be visited by another spirit to cool down). My clothes are sticking to my skin, and I yank at the collar of my T-shirt, feeling wrinkled and wrung out. The exhaustion from all the hours we spent traveling is finally kicking in.
Aidan removes his suit jacket and folds it over one arm. His collar is still sharply folded around his neck, but even his perfect and straight dark hair looks a little bit wilted. Maybe he’s tired too. “I’m sure you’d like to go upstairs and get settled. Get some rest after our travels.”
Gingerly I step onto the first stair. This definitely qualifies as a grand staircase, like maybe once upon a time Aidan and his wife gave grand parties here and used the stairs to make a magnificent entrance. Each step is covered in what at one time must have been colorful Mexican tile, but the paint has long since faded, and half of them are cracked.
“Aidan?” I say softly, but when I turn around, he’s already gone. I can hear his footsteps as he walks away to someplace behind the stairs in the opposite direction of the room with the furniture covered in sheets.
I grab my duffle bag, swing my backpack onto my shoulders, and start climbing. At the top of the stairs I drop my bags with a dull thud. The house groans in response, as though I hurt it somehow. It’s nearly pitch dark up here, and I run my hands along the wall until I hit a light switch.
Thankfully this one turns on, though the tiny, dirty bulbs screwed into the chandelier above my head don’t exactly give off what you could call bright light. Now I can see there’s a long hall in front of me, dotted with big doors directly across from one another, three on each side, with an enormous bay window at the end. There’s so much space between each door I can tell the rooms behind them must be huge. I take the knife out of my bag and slip it in my back pocket.