House of Skin by Jonathan Janz Read Free Book Online Page A

she release him when he realized why his face was itching and what it was he’d been spitting out.
    Ants.
    He was acrawl with them. They teemed over his face and body, and through his writhing and spitting he glimpsed her standing there with huge eyes and knew she was as surprised as he was, and he didn’t give a good god damn whether or not she’d meant for this to happen, it had, and the moment she let him out of the ropes he’d make her pay for it.
    Then his voice was rising because she was backing away, her hand on her mouth, climbing the steps, saying something about a needle, and his teeth clenched savagely as he blinked away the ants, and the last thing he said to her before she reached the doorway above was that he’d peel her skin off and let the ants eat her raw flesh.
    Then she was gone, and Ted was alone with his agony.
     
     
    The ballroom was grand.
    A floor laid with white hexagonal tiles and sprinkled with smaller black ones spread out before him, magnifying the size of the great hall. The curved staircase beside the ballroom led to a long balcony. Beyond the wooden balusters, the rooms that overlooked the dance floor reminded him of an upscale hotel.
    He decided to investigate the bar. Pushing a stool out of the way, he hopped onto the dusty wooden surface, swung his legs over the edge and landed on the other side. Squatting, he inspected the cache of liquor.
    Paul smiled.
    The cherry-wood shelves were fully stocked. There were three kinds of everything. Gin, vodka, scotch, bourbon. Everything. He peered to his left and found two full fifths of Jim Beam, his favorite. The varied bottles of alcohol faced him with bright smiles, eager school children ready to participate in the day’s lesson.
    It was wonderful. And terrible.
    Emerging from behind the bar, he trailed a hand over one of the burgundy crushed velvet couches and moved toward the curved staircase. It was like being on a movie set. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he grasped the wooden banister of the balcony and gazed down, marveling at his good fortune.
    It was all his.
    He couldn’t believe it.
    A week ago he’d lived in a tenement. This was a palace.
    He opened a door and gazed at the old-fashioned wallpaper, the canopied bed. Moving to the next room, he found the same thing, except the wallpaper was different.
    Eight thousand square feet, he remembered as he moved to the third door. What the hell was he going to do with eight thousand square feet? Maybe turn the ballroom into a basketball court, the upstairs into a brothel.
    Exploring the rest of the hallway, he discovered a sitting room, two bathrooms, another bedroom. At the end of the hall he mounted the back staircase and felt the temperature warm.
    He scanned the third floor corridor. There were fewer doors here, which meant larger rooms.
    He opened the first door, flipped on the light. To his right sat a sewing table and an old black Singer that looked like a miniature oil derrick. Paul glanced at a cabinet festooned with enamel animals and other curios and decided he’d not be spending much time here. He moved on.
    Behind the next door sat a large mahogany desk and a Tiffany reading lamp. The study. Leaving the door ajar, he moved to the window and raised the blind. The view was majestic. The grassy backyard was the size of a city block.
    This, he decided, would be his writing room.
    The next door was some distance away, and as his hands found the switch inside the door, a multitude of lamps flared into brilliance.
    As impressive as the ballroom had been, the library was the copestone of Watermere. The walls of the rectangular room were a deep crimson, the built-in shelves a pristine white. As copious as the bookcases were, no space on them was left unfilled. Paul had no idea how many books were here, but judged they numbered in the tens of thousands. The books imbued the room with a faintly musty smell that Paul found pleasing. In the center of the library were two segmented