Sighing, he changed the channel and waited for the dawn.
CHAPTER TWO
“Third rule is don’t pet the dog,” said Mr. West.
A sad-eyed puppy sat in front of one of the three doors in the hallway. It was white with brown and black spots and big floppy ears, and it whined as they walked past.
“Does it bite?” Diana asked.
“No.”
“Whose is it?”
“It belongs to Number Two,” said West, “but he lost control of it about a year ago. Now he’s lucky if it lets him out on the weekends to pick up groceries.”
He wheeled and stared at her with tightly narrowed eyes. So much so she wasn’t sure they were even open.
“Mark my words, Number Five. Bad things happen to those who don’t follow the rules.”
His long mustache twitched and he scratched his shaggy head, then turned back, walking up the six steps to Apartment Number Five. He fumbled with an overloaded key ring. As far as Diana could tell there were only seven apartments in this small building, but he must’ve had at least three dozen keys on that ring.
“This’ll be yours,” he said.
She wasn’t so sure. The rent on this place was remarkably cheap, but if a creepy landlord came with the package, she’d have to think it over.
She didn’t have to think it over for long.
The small apartment was fully furnished. It came with a brand-new sofa, a television, an old-fashioned jukebox like she’d always wanted. The jukebox even had all her favorite songs on it.
“Does this work?” she asked.
West shrugged and mumbled.
The kitchenette was bare except for some silverware in a drawer, but she didn’t cook anyway. There were a few Mr. Fizz sodas in the fridge, though.
“I didn’t know they still made this brand,” she said. “They’re my favorite.”
“Help yourself.”
“Really? Are you sure it’s okay? What about the former tenant?”
“He’s gone.”
“But won’t he be coming back for his stuff?”
“I doubt it.”
She hesitated but decided that one soda wouldn’t hurt anything. It tasted just as good as she remembered. Better.
He showed her the bedroom. Superman posters decorated the walls, along with art prints and a huge black- and-white photo of the Arc de Triomphe and another of the Eiffel Tower. It was bizarre. She knew she had eclectic tastes, and she had never expected anyone else to share them.
“There’s no way anyone would leave this stuff behind,” she said.
“It’s not his stuff,” he said.
“It’s yours. If you want it.
The rent on this place was half what she’d expected, and the decor meant she could just grab her three suitcases from the car and be unpacked within the hour. It was too good to be true.
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
He smiled. “Ah, there’s a smart girl.”
She stiffened. Her first thought was that this guy was a fiend who lured innocent young women into a life of orgies and pornography, but it would take more than a jukebox and a sixpack of soda to get Diana to strip on a webcam. Maybe if a good cable package came with the deal…
“Rule number two,” he said. “Never open this closet.”
He pointed to a door tucked away beside the bathroom.
“Why?” she asked.
“A good question. People who ask too many questions don’t usually last. Number Seven asked a lot of questions. Used to.”
He fumbled with the key ring and managed, after some rattling and grumbling, to pull off the key to the apartment and offer it to her.
“It’s all yours if you want it.”
She didn’t reach for the key just yet. A sixth sense warned her that she was striking a Faustian bargain. Odd, since she wasn’t sure what a Faustian bargain was. But it was something not to be taken lightly. She knew that.
“If you don’t want it,” he said, “somebody else will.”
“What’s the first rule?” she asked. “You told me the third and second rules, but not the first.”
He paused, chewed his lip.
“The first rule is turn the lights off when you leave a room. Just because I pay the utilities that doesn’t mean I’m made of money.”
Diana would’ve sold her soul for paid utilities, so she snatched the key. West was surprised enough to open his eyes to a softer squint.
“Where’s the lease?” she asked.
“There’s no lease. You stay as long as you’re able, Number Five. Leave whenever you’re willing.”
She followed him out the door. Her three suitcases were already sitting in the hallway.
“Hmm,” he said. “Apartment must like you. That’s a good sign.”
He waddled away without saying another word. The moment he was out of sight, even the jangle of his keys disappeared. Silence filled the hallway. No, that wasn’t quite right. Music came from somewhere. So light it almost couldn’t be heard. Like a chorus rehearsing. She couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, though.
The puppy in front of Apartment Two glanced forlornl in her direction and whimpered.
She glanced around her shiny new apartment. So what if the landlord was a bit of a nut? This place was made for her, and with the run of bad luck she’d had in the last few weeks, this was a good omen. Things were turning around.
She fed the jukebox a nickel. The mechanical arm grabbed the gleaming vinyl disk and set it on the turntable. Frankie Avalon sang about the virtues of beach life, and she smiled.
Diana wasted no time getting unpacked. She needed to claim this apartment. She’d been living out of suitcases too long, bumming off of friends like a vagabond. She shoved her clothes into the dresser so eagerly that she didn’t fold most of them. But once she closed the drawer she felt she’d made her mark. She lounged around for an hour, sitting on the sofa, drinking soda, watching TV, just relaxing. Chubby Checker, Aretha Franklin, and the Big Bopper kept her company. And when she was tired, she fell asleep on the nice comfortable bed and dreamed the strangest dreams.
She was herself, but she wasn’t herself. She flew across other worlds, strange realms without form or substance, lost cities and ghosts of forgotten civilizations passing beneath her. Time rendered everyone and everything into dust. From the tiniest speck to the greatest of the ancients. In the center of it all the slumbering god lay still, wrapped in the dream that foolish mortals and inhuman deities alike called reality.
The god opened one of his countless eyes. An eye bigger than the sun. And though she was just a mote, the yellow-andblack orb focused on her. The weight of a vast, incomprehensible universe threatened to crush Diana. She tried screaming. Her throat filled with bile and her brain melted as every cell in her body convulsed in absolute horror before exploding.
She awoke covered in sweat. Her heart pounded. A chill in the air turned her breath frosty. And just for a moment she thought the walls were moving, and something else was swimming under the covers.
