Amber stood in the en suite bathroom of Room 1, head bowed, clutching the sink.
Black obsidian beads scattering—
Bony fingers darting out from under the skirting boards—
Stop.
… desperately clawing at them, pulling them down into a gloomy underworld.
Amber sucked in a huge breath. She looked at herself in the mirror. Stop! She steadied her gaze, and started to count the seconds of her breaths until her breathing settled. She turned on the cold tap, and took the envelope off the shelf in front of her. She shook the beads into her hand, and held them carefully under the cool water, then laid them out on a facecloth to dry. She looked around the bathroom. It was beautiful. So was the bedroom. It had to be the Very Nice Room. But she still wanted 3A. It wasn’t like she knew it was the penthouse when she’d written it down. She just had a good feeling about it. She finished drying the beads, put them into her pocket and exhaled slowly. She walked back out and saw LB kneeling on the floor at her open bag. Kelly was sitting on the dressing table.
‘Regal, bitchanna,’ said Kelly, looking around. ‘Luxe.’ She paused. ‘I’ll miss you in the penthouse, though. Who’s getting which bed?’
‘I’ll take the single,’ said Amber.
‘Are you sure?’ said LB, pausing, looking up at her. ‘We could toss a coin.’
‘No – I’m sure,’ said Amber. ‘Seriously. I actually like single beds. I sleep in a single bed, remember.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said LB. ‘But that one’s rammed up against the wall.’
‘It’s cosy,’ said Amber.
‘OK,’ said LB, standing up, holding her soap bag, about to head to the bathroom.
‘Wait,’ said Kelly. ‘Come with me – check out the penthouse. Don’t be bitter.’
LB laughed. ‘I’m wrecked.’
‘Me too,’ said Amber. ‘And I have to unpack.’
‘Me too,’ said LB.
Kelly rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, then! Enjoy your period-drama-four-poster-thwarted-love affair.’
Amber rubbed a hand down LB’s arm. LB wrapped her leg around Amber’s. ‘Who said anything about thwarted?’ said Amber.
As soon as LB went into the bathroom, Amber opened her suitcase and pulled out a dark navy box with a glowing moon at the centre: LA LUNA ORACLE DECK. She pulled off the lid, took out the cards, and held them between her hands, holding them until her shoulders relaxed. She let out a long, relieved breath. She closed her eyes, and said, ‘Tell me what I need to know right now.’ She started to shuffle the cards when the bathroom door swung open and LB walked out. Amber reached for the box, and pulled it towards her.
‘Ooh!’ said LB. ‘You brought your cards. You must give me a reading before we go.’
‘I will,’ said Amber, her eyes lighting up.
‘Do you bring them everywhere?’ said LB, curious.
‘Not everywhere,’ said Amber.
‘Like, not into the bathroom,’ said LB, doing an impression of her darting in.
Amber laughed. She put the cards back in the box, and put them in the bottom drawer of her bedside cabinet. She really did want to bring the deck into the bathroom, find out something that would make her feel better, but there was no point – she didn’t have her phone or any other light. She suddenly realised she was sharing a room. They had all just assumed they were getting their own rooms. That meant that the chances of her being able to do her bedtime oracle card reading or her morning reading without LB being around were really slim. But she might get away with the lunchtime ones. And she could always get up earlier, when LB was out for her run. Maybe that’s why she’d been so drawn to 3A – some part of her knew it was a single room. And she could do all the readings she wanted without having to worry.
Kelly stood at the open door to 3A. A narrow flight of steep wooden stairs rose directly in front of her in the gloom.
‘OK, what?’ She left her suitcase where it was and stepped over the threshold to the bottom of the steps, then felt around the wall for a light switch. There was none. But as soon as she took two steps up, another yellowy motion sensor light came on. She slowly climbed the stairs. Moonlight shone faintly through an arched window, pooling on the floorboards. Kelly’s head jerked right, her gaze travelling along a line of wrought-iron beds, every one of them made up with all-white bedlinen. On each bed, there was a white scalloped-edge bedspread, a single cushion with a white crocheted cover, and a beige wool blanket folded at the end. On the wall behind every bed hung a framed pressed flower.
Kelly turned around and stared blankly at the painting on the wall opposite her featuring a sad girl with a sad dog under a weeping willow. Why? Just… why? Her heart lurched at the thought of three weeks going up and down those stairs, going to sleep in one of those beds, waking up in it, probably with nightmares, and just the trapped panic and the not-supposed-to-be-complaining because: mom’s boss and LB’s dad and favours and fees and being grateful and—
Something crawled across her arm, spidery and light. Kelly screamed. And ran.