“This is for you,” Kearn said as Abe left the room, handing him a key.

Abe eyed the intricate silver key in his palm marked by a heart.

“It's the key to your new room. The Mistress deemed your actions worthy of earning it.”

Nodding, Abe closed his hands around the key, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Kearn turned away. “Upstairs, on the third floor. The third room on your left,” he said, already walking away.

He turned to the spiral stairs that climbed the length of the four-story building along the walls of the central atrium.

Reaching the third, he passed a long display table that stretched across the length of the third floor’s railing—at its center, a white urn.

Eyeing it for a second, he turned down the adjoining corridor.

“Third on the left,” he mumbled as he inserted the key, the door opening under its own weight as he heard the click.

Against the far wall was a single bed, draped in a woolen blanket. There was a clock on a stand beside it. To the right was a cupboard spanning the wall, and an oil painting of the gardens above it that covered almost everything else. To his left, a wardrobe.

“Better than the Kennels,” Abe murmured as he entered, pulling the metal blinds up to stare out across the courtyards that led out to snow-covered fields—a single scarecrow stood in the middle of them upon a stick. “Kind of quaint,” he turned away.

A knock sounded, and Abe turned to it and called them to enter.

Kearn creaked the door open just enough to catch his eyes, “We’re leaving now. Need anything, ask Ricky.”

“Wait,” Abe said. “What about Elissa and the Man in White?”

“She’ll be fine, the Mistress is confident. And it's best not to underestimate her senses. You should be safe within the Manor. If you leave it, that’s on you,” he said, closing the door.

As long as the Mistress is confident, Abe sighed.

Turning back to the window he watched as a vintage, navy blue Rolls-Royce rolled out of the garage a moment later, and continued down the drive.

His chest thumped with longing as he watched it go.

“I barely know her,” he muttered and pulled himself away from the window.

Turning back to the door, he eyed it in silence for a moment. His curiosity had peaked.

“I guess there’s nothing left to do but explore,” he mouthed, stepping toward it.

The halls had already been quiet, but stepping back out into them knowing Miss Nia, Elissa, and Kearn were gone gave a different feeling.

Ricky is probably still fiddling with that thing downstairs, so I guess I’ve got the house to myself…

Abe thought about the gatekeeper, and Elissa mentioned other mindless servants who worked for the Mistress.

Well, maybe not entirely alone—if you count those mindless things. There has to be something interesting around here.

First, he tried the doors on the third floor. They were all locked. He was pretty strong now, and could probably break timber doors without much effort, but that might have repercussions.

Walking back to the staircase, he went up to the fourth floor.

Upstairs was an attic. There were boxes of all kinds, old mannequins, and piles of clothing—all of which were within what could be considered normal for a storage space.

He also noticed some vases, and other pottery at one corner. One colorful item caught his attention.

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“Nesting dolls?” Abe murmured, picking up the little babushka. “Five, three, nine, four, zero, Fifty-three-thousand nine-hundred and forty? What’s that supposed to mean,” he mused, reading out the writing marked on the bottom of the doll. “I wonder if it opens?”

He tightened his grip around both ends of the doll when it didn’t immediately click open and squeezed. “Damn it, why won't you open up,” he grunted, his whole body tensing up as he increased pressure.

Exhaling, he loosened his grip and held it with one hand. Eyeing it for a moment, he brought it against the wall and tapped. He squeezed again, but nothing changed.

“Nothing, seriously? Who the fuck tightened this thing?”

He glanced at the wall, then back at the doll again, “So, you want to play hard, do you?” Abe slammed the doll against the wall repetitively, huffing in frustration when he finally stopped. “Okay, whatcha got?”

Nothing.

No matter how hard he tried to force it open it remained unchanged and undamaged.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, staring at the painted face that seemed a little smugger than previously.

He glanced around the room again. It doesn’t look like anyone still comes up here. He took notice of dust and spiderwebs that marked just about everything, and the unlived musky scent that permeated the place.

“Hopefully no one is going to miss you,” he said, glancing down at the doll.

He continued scanning the attic for a little while longer, but he didn’t spot anything of immediate interest.

“I guess I can always come back,” he mouthed as he stepped back down the stairs.

Briefly returning to his room to place the nesting doll in his cupboard, Abe continued downstairs.

He glanced down the corridor of the second floor, eyeing Miss Nia’s door for a moment before turning away. It seemed prudent to not go snooping on the second floor.

The ground floor was the largest, not just extending to the rear, as the higher levels did, but to the left and right as well. To the right was where the stairs descending into the Kennels were, and although there were rooms above it, they didn't intrigue him as much as the unknown, since he had already visited the armory with Elissa.

Abe turned left, deciding to see what he could find there first. The closer he was to the Kennels, the more likely Ricky was to hear him.

The first door clicked open, revealing old furniture piled atop itself, dust and cobwebs blanketing it.

He scanned the room, taking his time. He doubted many answers would come voluntarily from Miss Nia or the others. If he wanted to learn more about what was going on, he would need to figure it out for himself.

Spotting nothing of interest, he continued into the next room.

A stool trimmed by gold sat beside a golden harp, curtains pulled back, basking it in a dim, hazy light.

Abe ran a finger along the strings as he walked past, then caught himself in a mirror bordered by curling gold, opposite it.

He touched the gray skin looking back at him, marked by blue, snaking veins—his lips slightly parting. He had been too distracted to take proper stock of his appearance when watching himself in Miss Nia’s mirror.

Stepping closer, Abe gasped.

His skin was firm, with no rot or wounds present like the others, but there was no mistaking something was wrong with him. Nia could get by, identified as a pale young woman. But he had no doubt that his sickly gray skin and prominent blue veins would cast suspicions from the living his way.

Closing his eyes, he turned away and walked to the next door.

“This is more like it,” he mumbled as he stepped into the next room, tables on two sides covered with all kinds of belongings—chests beneath them. On the left was a cage wall, and behind it were swords, shining armor, shotguns, and assault rifles.

He tried the cage door, but it was no use. He might be able to break the lock, Abe thought, but he wasn’t about to do that unless it was an emergency.

Turning to the benches he scanned over the times.

Most were miscellaneous, a radio here, a pocket watch there, even pens and notepads. Grazing his hand over, the world slowed and his brain pulsed as he touched a small device with a cable running from it.

“What the?” Abe tilted his head, picking the little device up. “A microphone?” He narrowed on it, turning it in his hand. The cables running from it fell freely, and he couldn’t see anything that would fit their adaptors.

He touched a few other items, testing to see if it was a coincidence.

This belonged to me, Abe thumbed the microphone and pushed it into his pocket.

Nothing else stood out, and since he rathered his little invasion go unnoticed, he left everything else.

Leaving the room, Abe turned down the corridor toward the last room.

Booming at his back, the front doors slammed open, bouncing against the walls and echoing throughout the foyer.

Abe swung around, brow raised and arms held high and defensive.

“Those maggots!” Elissa raged, storming across the marble tiles toward the armory, several shallow wounds cut across her body, and her partial lip curled up into a snarl.

“What happened?” Abe stepped toward her, glancing over at the open doors.

“Get over here and pick a weapon, fledgling,” she shouted, crashing through the armory door.

“What are you talking about, what happened to you under the town hall?”

Elissa swung around in the armory doorway, brow slanted, eyes narrowed and shaking, “It’s not the time, maggot. Now get a weapon!”

Abe nodded and swallowed, skipping a step to catch up to Elissa as she turned back into the armory.