2
I scooted inside and she slammed the door behind me. The room was small and square with a few waiting chairs to the right. The only natural light came from the long, narrow windows high up the walls opposite the door, but the light was muted by black lace curtains. A single lamp hung over us and cast a weak, sickly glow over the room. I couldn’t imagine a better-suited funeral parlor.
I turned to my hostess who shuffled over to a curtained doorway to our left. “Are you worried that this thing is dangerous?” I asked her.
She snorted. “No, it’s because that thing’s worth a fortune and if anybody around here saw you with it you wouldn’t be with it for long,” she quipped. She gestured for me to follow, and I let her lead me deeper into the bowels of the-kitchen.
The adjoining room
