Monsters Like Us (Book 1 in The Huntress Series)

Chapter Five

"Help!"

Esperanza shot up in bed, heart racing. She listened, but the cry for help didn't come again, and she wondered if she'd already been dreaming. She climbed out of bed, hair still damp from the bath, and shrugged on her robe before making a beeline for the door. She cracked it open and peeked down the empty corridor. It was dark, save for the pale moonlight slanting through the arched windows. Silently, she tiptoed down the corridor until she reached the stairs. Footsteps sounded somewhere nearby. Crap. Someone was coming. Esperanza ducked down behind one of the golden candelabras, her fingers gripping the cool metal. She craned her neck, squinting past the marble railing. A flame danced in the dark, flickering above a silver candlestick.

It was Mrs. Blythe, looking as grumpy as ever, her face screwed up into a permanent expression of dissatisfaction. The shadows amplified the deep lines etched into her sallow face, iron grey hair plastered to her head. She adorned the same black, high-collared dress and polished black shoes as before and it made her look like a floating head. She was the definition of dour, and Esperanza couldn't help but to be a little afraid of her.

The woman shuffled slowly across the ballroom floor, beady eyes scanning her surroundings before disappearing around the corner. Once Esperanza was sure that she wasn't coming back, she padded down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. She left the ballroom, moving down the opposite corridor, past the elevator. I heard something. I know I heard something.

She imagined masquerades taking place here. Hemlock House a gleaming castle and all the courtiers gathering to partake in the party, donning silver threads and intricate masks, whispering and canoodling in discrete corners, all awaiting the arrival of the queen. Queen Lavinia.

For a moment, it felt real. She imagined herself in a daring red dress, golden mask concealing her features, her identity. She didn't simply walk between the courtiers, she danced, she dipped, she twirled. All eyes on her. She half expected to find Bridger waiting for her at the end of the hall, but instead, she pictured another man. A mysterious stranger. Gazing at her from afar, a slight smile on his lips. She beckoned him.

She was about to turn back, caught up in her fantasy, when she heard a blood curdling scream. "Lena?" Esperanza called. She was sure it had been the maid from earlier; the maid she couldn't admit she knew from her past, before Papá was killed and Tía Marta stepped in to raise her and her sister. "Lena! Where are you?"

She raced back to the marble ballroom. The scream had seemingly reverberated from the elevator shaft. She pushed up against the wall, searching for the button in the darkness. When she found it, the button glowed like the eye of a magpie. "Lena?"

A strong hand clasped her shoulder and spun her around. She stood face to face with Mrs. Blythe, the flame guttering in the draft between them, black wick withering as if in pain. Esperanza exhaled. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What are you doing out of bed?" Mrs. Blythe spat.

"I heard someone scream." She gestured to the elevator behind her. "I think it might be coming from the basement."

Mrs. Blythe narrowed her eyes. The lumpy mole on her chin wobbled like gelatin. "I didn't hear a thing."

Well, that doesn't surprise me, Esperanza wanted to say. You're ancient. "I know what I heard," she said instead. "Do the maids sleep down there?"

"They're fast asleep in the servants' quarters. You should be asleep, as well."

Esperanza gestured to the elevator again. "But I heard—"

Mrs. Blythe caught ahold of Esperanza's arm and wrenched her to the stairs. For a brittle old lady, she was surprisingly strong.

Esperanza eyed the woman suspiciously. Mrs. Blythe turned up her nose. "This is an old house. It makes a lot of noises, especially at night. It can play tricks on your mind, make you conjure up ghost stories."