23

Stefan

I sat in my study with the door locked, reading for the hundredth time the amendment to the contract that her grandfather had made. As much as I hated him for it, part of me wanted it, rejoiced in it.

That was the sick part. The part I tried to warn her about. The part she felt sure didn't exist.

I shook my head, my thoughts wandering again to last night. I should put a lock on that cellar door. I couldn't have her go down there again. I couldn't have her see what lay beneath those sheets. Hell, I should seal that door. Maybe then I could forget the things that had happened in that room.

Last night was the first time I'd been there in more than six years. It was raining, and I had needed to go to the chapel. To the cemetery behind it. I hadn't shown Veronica that part when I'd shown her the small church. It seemed too personal, too private. My excuse to use the tunnel had been the rain, although it was flimsy. I didn't care about getting wet, and if I did, I could have driven.