Villere House (Blood of My Blood) by CD Hussey, Leslie Fear

this time.
    Rinsing the suds from her skin, she closed her eyes.
    Think about something else. Think about something else.
    "Écoutez!"
    With a scream, she twisted the water off with so much force her wrists hurt. Still clutching the knobs tight, she stood perfectly still. Listening. Panting. The only sound was the faint laughter of people partying in the courtyard. She listened for a good five minutes. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
    It was the shower all over again.
    What was that last word? It was French, she knew that much. But she had no idea what it meant or if she'd even heard it correctly.
    She stared at her image in the mirror. The woman greeting her was wide-eyed and shell-shocked, her hair a halo of messy blond curls. She barely recognized herself. She looked more like the woman in her dreams than the face she'd grown so accustomed to she barely saw it anymore.
    Peeling her fingers from the faucet knobs, she slowly turned around, like any sudden move would bring the ghost back. Lottie swallowed. Hard.
    Ghost… God, maybe she was going crazy.
    She peered into the bedroom. The bedcover was a twisted, tousled heap, like someone had just finished a fantastic romp under the covers, but the room was otherwise undisturbed. And empty.
    Tip-toeing through the bedroom, she approached the door to the sitting area with trepidation. Hand pressed against the jamb, heart thundering in her chest, she carefully inched forward until she could see into the room. The sofa pullout bed was still out, empty beer bottles and condom wrappers on the end table, but it too was empty.
    It was a tense look around the second bathroom. Luckily the shower curtain was open so she wasn't subjected to the task of sliding it aside. Wasn't the shower where killers in movies often hid? Pulling back the curtain only revealed a masked man with a knife. Then the camera would pan to the bathroom mirror and blood would splatter across the glass.
    She shuddered. Definitely a plus she was spared that.
    The only place left where someone could be hiding was the upstairs loft.
    Walking like she was trying to sneak out of the house while her parents slept, she crossed the room and climbed the stairs. Each step increased the pace of her heartbeat. By the time she reached the last step she felt like she'd just finished a marathon.
    But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
    In some ways she was relieved, but in other ways it just made the situation even freakier. Since it wasn't a flesh-and-bone person tormenting her, being alone didn't make her safe. If she couldn't see them, she couldn't hide from them.
    She had to get out of there.
    Even if she didn't feel like partying or entertaining drunk people on Bourbon, she had to find Sam and Amanda. She couldn't be alone. Not now.
    Throwing on the first dress she pulled from her suitcase, she left her PJs on the floor. Her feet were barely in her sandals as she grabbed her purse and ran.

     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    A few texts later, a phone call, and a quick look around at least ten different bars and Lottie still hadn't found her friends. Nor had she heard from them. She was about to give up, and do what she wasn't sure. They might be back at the room, but she wasn't ready to go there, not yet, not while she trembled every time she thought of the place.
    Maybe she should belly up to a bar and enjoy a club soda. The drunk watching would probably provide a suitable distraction. As long as she stayed near people, she felt like she'd be safe.
    Just as she'd decided on a place that seemed to have the right vibe—enough people but not too busy—her phone buzzed.
    We're at Molly's on the Market, Amanda's text read. Come out!
    Using her phone to map a course, she didn't waste any time heading that way.
    She hadn't traveled long on the recommended route before the streets became quiet. The faint sounds of activity surrounded her, but the street she walked on was void of life.
    Quickening her steps, she pushed forward