hardwood floor groaned under my weight. I brick myself up like a stunned sow, gasping for breath. The air was thick with dust and old furniture polish, smelling vaguely of lavender. My head throbbed like someone was using a cinder block to hammer on my skull. "Ugh, hell," I groaned, pushing myself up. The world swam for a second. I stumbled to my feet, my jeans now ridiculously short on my long legs. My oversized t-shirt was tucked into my pants like a grandma's nightgown. "Okay, take a deep breath, Mandy," I muttered. "You just had a freakin' accident."

I patted myself down. No board. No blood. Just a stinging ache on my rear end from where I'd apparently landed on something sharp. "Shit," I muttered, glancing around the room. It was huge. Heavy wooden furniture, all carved and ornate. Two huge beds with canopies that looked suspiciously like they could strangle someone if they got angry. A bureau that looked big enough to bury a small