Later, covered in the softest satin nightgown that hardly reached halfway down my thigh and the most luxurious robe I had ever worn, I sat on my bed. The girls had excitedly shown me their home soon after my bath. The house, which past girls named the Mystic Mansion, was much more than the four-story facade revealed. More than ten bedrooms, I stopped counting after ten, were all fitted with the latest appliances, wardrobes filled with the latest fashions and classically designed to the girls' taste. Plus bathrooms fitted to the same degree, not to mention the powder rooms, and closets that were obviously just smaller bedrooms converted into lavish storage for their clothes, with huge antique mirrors with gold and silver frames carved in all sorts of pattern. A modern kitchen, which hardly looked used, two formal dining rooms and a sitting room, nicknamed the 'dead' room, which Bree informed me was very popular, the girls practically lived in there. Small smirks played on the girls' lips, as if they were enjoying some kind of joke I was not informed of. It irritated me for a moment, but Bree's enthusiasm was infectious and soon I had all but forgotten the 'dead' pun. Last of all in the magnificent house, but certainly not least, was the attic that pushed the house to five stories which completed the building with arch windows on the front that looked out upon the street below. When Bree told me we were to, lastly, see the attic, I shivered. Mother and Father had an old dusty attic which they stored old boxes, pieces of Grandmama Swan's less impressive items of furniture, and, when the time came, Grandmama Swan in a rich red clay urn covered solemnly with a few prayers and a white sheet. When I found where my mother had put my lovely grandmother, her late mother-in-law, I frequently scaled the crooked ladder and tended to her, placing flowers from the garden in front of the urn, blowing the dust away and whispering the stupid and ignorant doings of my mother that day, like we did while she were alive.

But when Bree lead me up the secret stairway behind the un-marked, un-handled door, hidden behind a mirror, the sight that beheld me was breathtaking. Unlike the distinct French influence of the rest of the house, this room was inspired by India. Rich reds and golds and oranges made it beautiful. Silk organza billowed from the ceiling, coming together in the centre of the amazing square room to a long meticulous crystal chandelier that fell so low, I could, if I wished, stroke the last crystals that reached to my chest.

'Sweet Jesus,' I cursed in awe. Fresh flowers were hung in garlands following the fabric. I daren't inspect the four-post, rich mahogany bed with white chiffon lazily pulled open and tethered to the posts with ribbon which I could completely lose myself and die in this little piece of heavens' pie.

'Like?' Bree asked.

I gapped my mouth open, trying to find the adequate words, but resorted just to nodding.

'Victoria's.' She stated as if it weren't already obvious. 'Do not come up here uninvited, understand me? Especially when James is here!'

I nodded, completely comprehending her warning. This was one rule I would never push.

I flopped down on the, no, my lavish bed, with my specifically chosen plum purple cover, with pillows to match. I was in a room, sharing with Bree, my sisters, which I was instructed to call them, worked on a manicure, pedicure and my hair, all at the same time. I was instantly warmed by the fact these women wanted me to be their sister.

I was an only child, and not for the trying for many more by my parents. But after years of miscarriages and trying, with only me to show for all their heartache, they soon gave up. My father lavishing me with my every whim, my mother sneering at my lack of enthusiasm with fashion, and my unco-ordination on two feet, especially in the stupid stilts of heels she decided elongated my pale legs.

I watched as Bree flitted around the room, too quick for normal, but I somewhat ignored it, just quietly remembering the strange occurrences. I had them listed so far in my mind. She was fast, too fast; absolutely gorgeous, really inhumanly beautiful; and I had no explanation for those eyes. A rich crimson to a dark burgundy. A trait all the girls had. Not to mention their cold, cold skin, and intoxicating perfume that seemed to radiate off each and every one.

I was grateful. They had taken me in without hesitation and made me their sister. I could almost feel the unconditional love.

Although I was curious now, I knew if I waited, soon everything would be revealed.