The front door was still open.
Behind Layla, the interior was unusually dark.
He could see the large wooden table.
The chairs.
The fireplace.
And something else.
A second door stood at the far end of the room.
It was made of dark timber.
It had a brass handle.
And a small rectangular window.
The same door they had seen beneath the mountain.
Jude's breath caught.
Layla followed his gaze.
Then she slowly turned towards the house.
For the first time, her smile became wider than it should have been.
"Jude," she said softly.
"Come inside."
Behind her, the second door opened by itself.
A cold blue light spilled across the floor.
And from somewhere inside the house, a woman's voice whispered:
"That's not Layla."
"That's not Layla."
The whisper came from inside the house.
Jude didn't move.
Neither did the woman standing before him.
