A Drop of Night by Stefan Bachmann Read Free Book Online Page A

appears at the door, rubbing something furiously into the ends of her hair.
    I turn to the window. The light outside is lead gray and flat, like it’s already evening. The trees make a tight square around the property. Jules asked that exact same thing. I brushed him off, but it’s a valid question. What are we doing here? Why Lilly? Why me? Why the others, all of us so completely different from each other? Blue folders in the mail, embossed letterheads, and thick stationery go a long way toward making things seem sensible and official. And I really wanted this to happen,so I told myself it was sensible. Like people who believe in daily horoscopes or pass on chain letters. Like people who do non-sensible things.
    Lilly goes back into the bathroom. Shouts: “This place is bare . I don’t like it. And there’s only one towel. Did you check for Wi-Fi?”
    I study the massive four-poster. It’s as big as a whole room by itself, but there’s only one. I’ll be sleeping on the couch, I guess.
    â€œIf there is, I doubt they’ll let you use it,” I call back, and wander to the window, digging my phone from my pocket. At least ten Wi-Fi options line up on the screen. All locked.
    I toss my phone onto the nightstand. Lilly comes out of the bathroom holding a cup of amber liquid. She’s clutching it in both hands like it might escape.
    â€œThey have brandy,” she says, awestruck. “In the bathroom .”
    â€œI thought you said it was bare.”
    â€œYeah, but brandy .”
    She takes a sip, makes a face, and sets the cup down on a dresser. It’s going to leave a ring, but I don’t say anything. My head feels heavy. Lilly gets busy pulling chargers andcable tangles from her backpack. I crawl onto the bed. I don’t really plan on sleeping . I just lie there, staring up at the canopy. Drift in and out of consciousness. At some point I pull the covers up over my shoes and jeans. . . .
    I dream I’m floating in a black expanse of water. Only my face and hands break the surface. And slowly something else rises to the top—a girl in a sumptuous dress, only she’s facedown, her back like a velvet island, her cold fingers brushing mine, and I start to thrash, the black water boiling around me—

7
    I wake up feeling like a slug. This is what happens when you sleep in your clothes—you get that nasty, greasy mixture of chilliness and warmth, and you remember all the times you slept in airports, car seats, on Ellis Winthrope’s cracked-leather couch, braving the smell of rank tennis socks and stale chips because you didn’t want to be home, you really, really didn’t want to be home—
    I blink a few times. Roll onto my back. The room is dark.
    â€œLilly?”
    I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes. Kick off my shoes and pad to the bathroom. “Lilly, what time is it?” The bathroom is solid marble. One side of the sink has been taken over by a jumble of bottles and candy-colored makeup tubes. There’s the decanter of brandy Lilly was talking about. It’s mostly full and Lilly is definitely not here.
    I take a quick, scalding shower and poke my head into the bedroom. Lilly’s backpack looks like it ate an entire wardrobe of jean jackets and tie-dye and feathers and then threw up, which is a pretty understandable reaction. My luggage still isn’t here. I thought Dorf said someone was going to bring it up.
    I look out the window. The light is completely gone now. I scramble out of the bathroom, wrapping up in the lone towel as I run for my phone. Hit the screen. Crap . It’s 5:25.
    I tear back into the bathroom, drag on the same clothes I flew here in. Skinny jeans, chunky-knit gray sweater with a kangaroo pocket, the brogues. Hope dinner isn’t a formal affair. Open the hall door. And almost knee Lilly in the face.
    She’s sitting right outside, cross-legged on the floor. Jules and Hayden are with