“All right. I thought you might want to convert one of the attics,” Parker began, “but I took a look
myself, and I don‟t know that they‟d safely hold all that weight. At least not if you wanted to
keep the slate pool table.”
“I wasn‟t thinking up. I was thinking down.”
“Down?” Parker repeated. “Where . . . Oh God, Del, not one of the basements.”
“How many attics and basements are in this place?” Mal whispered to Emma.
“Three attics, two—no, three basements if you count the scary boiler room where the demons
who eat the flesh of young girls live.”