Die for Me

Opening it, I saw a long, dark passageway. My heart in my throat, I walked toward a windowed door at the end, with light illuminating its panes. It swung open onto a large, cavernous kitchen. No one was there. I breathed a sigh of relief, and realized that I had been afraid of ru

Deciding to leave the note in the mailbox on the way out, I hurried back down the tu

I stood motionless an instant before feeling myself driven forward by an irresistible impulse. What am I doing? I thought as I stepped through the doorway. Heavy curtains blocked the outside light, like in the other rooms. The only illumination came from a few small lamps scattered around on low tables.

I stepped into the room and softly closed the door behind me. I knew it was insane. But the rational part of my brain had lost the battle, and I was now on autopilot, trespassing in someone’s house in order to satisfy my curiosity. My skin felt like it was being pricked by a million tiny adrenaline darts as I began to look around.

To my right, bookcases surrounded a gray marble fireplace. Above its mantel hung two enormous swords, crossed above the hilts. The other walls were hung with framed photographs, some in black-and-white and others in color. They were all portraits.

There seemed to be no sense to the collection. Some of the people in them were old, some young. A few pictures looked as if they were taken fifty years ago, and others looked contemporary. The only thing tying them together was that they were all candid: The subjects didn’t know their picture was being taken. Weird collection, I thought, shifting my gaze to the other side of the room.

In one corner stood a massive four-poster bed hung with translucent white cloth. I walked toward it to take a closer look. Through the gauzy fabric I could see the shape of a man lying on the bed. My heart froze.

Not daring to breathe, I pulled the curtain aside.

It was Vincent. He was lying above the covers, fully clothed, on his back with his arms to his sides. And he didn’t look like he was sleeping. He looked like he was dead.

I lifted a hand and touched his arm. It was as cold and hard as a store ma

My heart stopped in my chest, and holding my hand to my throat, I backed away until my shoulders hit the marble chimney and I let out a terrified scream. Just then, the door burst open and an overhead light switched on. Jules stood in the doorway. “Hi, Kate,” he said ominously, and then, turning the light back off, he nodded and said, “Looks like the game’s up, Vince.”

Chapter Eleven

“YOU’LL HAVE TO COME WITH ME.” JULES WORE A grim expression. When he realized that I was incapable of movement, he took my arm and led me toward the door.

“But Jules,” I said, my shock worn off enough to allow me to speak, “Vincent’s dead!”

Jules turned to me and stared. I must have looked like a trauma victim. I know I sounded like one, my voice coming out all quivery.

“No, he’s not. He’s fine.” He took my hand and pulled me into the hallway. I jerked it back.

“Listen to me, Jules,” I said, starting to sound hysterical, “I touched him. His skin is cold and hard. He’s dead!”

“Kate,” he said, sounding almost a

“Where are you taking me?”

“Where should I take her?” he asked himself. It wasn’t in a pondering tone, like people use when they ask a question they already know the answer to. It sounded like he didn’t know and expected someone else to answer.

My eyes widened. Jules was crazy. Maybe he had been brain-damaged in the subway wreck, I thought. Maybe he was criminally insane and had murdered Vincent and left him on his bed, and now he was taking me somewhere to kill me, too. My thoughts were spi

“I’m taking you to Charlotte’s room,” he said, answering his own question.

“Who’s Charlotte?” I asked, my voice wavering.

“I’m not trying to scare her!” Jules said, coming to a stop. He turned to me, looking exasperated. “Listen, Kate. I know you had a shock in there, but your being in that room is completely your own fault. Not mine. Now I’m going to take you somewhere to calm down, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Can I just leave?”

“No.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t help myself. I was too confused and frightened to be calm, and too horrified that I was crying to look at him: Looking weak or fragile was the last thing I wanted. I stared at the floor.

“What now?” he said, dropping my hand. “Kate? Kate?” His rough ma

I met his eyes as I wiped my tears away with shaking fingers.

“Oh my God, I’ve terrified you,” he said, taking his first good look at me. He stepped backward. “I’ve done this all wrong. I’m such an idiot.” Be careful, I told myself, he might just be acting. But he’s sure doing a believable job with the remorse.

“Okay, let me explain”—he hesitated—“as much as I can. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear, Kate. And I promise Vincent will be fine. It’s not what it seems. But I just need to talk to the others—the other people who live here—before I can let you leave.”

I nodded. Jules was acting a lot saner than he had a few minutes before. And he was looking so apologetic that I almost (but not quite) felt sorry for him. Even if I want to run, I thought, I can’t get past the security gate outside.

He reached his hand toward me, this time in a peaceful way, as if he wanted to place it comfortingly on my forearm, but I recoiled.

“Okay. It’s okay,” he soothed, raising his hands in the air in an I surrender gesture. “I won’t touch you again.”

He looked really upset now. “I know,” he said, speaking to the air, “I’m a total moron,” and began walking down the hallway toward the foyer. “Please follow me, Kate,” he said in a downcast voice.

I followed him. What other choice did I have?

He led me up the winding double staircase to the second floor and down a hallway. Opening a door to a darkened room, he flicked on the lights and stayed in the hallway as I walked in. “Make yourself comfortable. I might be a while,” he said, avoiding my eyes. He pulled the door closed behind me. The lock clicked.

“Hey!” I yelled, grabbing the handle and twisting it. It was definitely locked.

“I had to lock it. We can’t just have her wandering around the house.” Jules was talking to himself again, as his footsteps grew faint.

There was nothing more that I could do, besides leaping out the second-floor window and scaling the front gate. That’s just not going to happen, I thought, and resigned myself to the fact that I was powerless to do anything else until someone unlocked the door.

You could have done worse for a prison, I thought, looking around. The walls were lined with a patterned rose-colored silk, and heavy mint green drapes were tied back on either side of the windows, which had upper panes in the shape of hearts. Delicate painted bedroom furniture was arranged around the edges of the room. I sat down on a silk-upholstered daybed.