Page 21 of Once Upon a Fable

Not a paw print but the barely-there tread of a shoe.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I shot up and backed away so fast, I bumped into the kitchen island.

A shoe?

What thefuckwas a shoe imprint doing on my tiles?

My heart rate exploded.

I couldn’t catch a proper breath.

Undiluted fear and the hottest, blackest rage snarled in my stomach.

Human.

There was a motherfuckingpersonin my house.

Myhouse.

Not theirs.

Mine.

I’d kill them.

I’ll rip them limb from limb.

Pushing away from the island, I bared my teeth at the dusty footprints and hunted.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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WELL, I’D CONFIRMED IT.

I’m alone.

The bedrooms had been decorated with scrumptious furniture, rich bedding, intricate sconces, and delicate works of art, yet I hadn’t found the slightest hint in any of the twenty suites that someone slept there.

Each bathroom was untouched with fresh towels hanging off chrome rails, soap still wrapped in tissue paper, and taps so perfectly polished I could see my reflection in them. And just like the dining room and its shattered mirrors, each bathroom housed empty frames where reflective glass used to live. No debris existed, so meticulous attention to cleanliness was obvious, but the oddness of missing mirrors sent chills down my back.

Who had done such a thing?

Why?

Did they still live here?

No water marks in the showers, no laundry on the floor, no books on the side tables, no usual clutter of habitation. If someonedidlive here, they didn’t sleep in the house.

So...where?

Who keeps this place so clean?

My head swam a little, either from the heat, confusion, or dehydration. I’d somehow stumbled into a mystery that I doubted many people knew about, and my questions weighed me down. Curiosity scratched me. I’d hoped I’d find someone to explain the randomness of this home and theapparent attempt at sheltering it away from the population.