searching for the hidden lever.
“Creely. This is important to me. I’m the bride. If I want to find a secret room instead of sit there and get presents, it’s my choice. My wedding.”
She turned to me, looked me up and down. “Well, why the hell not?” She dug through her front pocket and produced a book of matches. “Gotta keep the bride happy.” She handed me my flashlight on the way over to the desk. Then she relit the largest white taper candle and held it aloft. “As my gift to you, I will get you into the secret room under the creepy occult mansion.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning every word. “It’s so much better than hand towels.”
She gave me a long look, the candlelight accenting the lines on her face. “Let’s hope you still feel that way once you’re down there.”
We searched the bookcases again. We searched the floor. And then I saw a book on Pluto.
“Don’t read,” Creely said, inspecting the bookcases, trying to find a hidden lever.
“Don’t worry,” I said, opening the first page.
She stopped searching. “Is this a demon slayer instinct?”
“More of a gut feeling. This is a book on a planet—”
“Pluto’s not a planet,” Creely said automatically.
“—shelved with a bunch of books on demonology. I paged through and almost dropped it when I saw the center of the book had been cut out, and a key neatly inserted. It was made of iron and nearly as long as my hand.
“It would be hard to lose that one,” Creely said.
“Hard to hide it, too.” If someone went through all this trouble, it was probably important. I tucked my Maglite under my arm started digging it out.
“Give me your light.” Creely snatched the light, nearly making me drop the book. Which made the key pop out. Okay, two birds…
She shone my light into the space where the book had been shelved. “Bingo.”
There was an antique keyhole built into the wall.
“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Creely asked.
“Speak for yourself.”
I handed her the key and she inserted it into the lock. Then I stood back, my right hand on my switch stars as she pushed the door to the bookcase back. It resisted for a moment. The hinges groaned as the door reluctantly swung back into a darkened stairwell.
It was lined with old brick and ornamented with crude, hand-painted images of spider webs. A concrete, spiral staircase wound down into the abyss.
“Happy wedding shower,” Creely said.
I took the flashlight from her and shone it down the stairs. They were steep and winding. It was impossible to know what lay at the bottom.
“My present is down there.”
I started down the steps. Meanwhile, Creely went back and grabbed her candle. “Damn. I wish I’d brought a few spell jars.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need them.” The air was musty and chilly in the passage. I fought off a shiver as we descended, our footsteps echoing off the stairs.
Whatever awaited us down there reeked of stale incense and rot. This had to be Russell’s crowning achievement. It was hidden at the very center of his home, well concealed under his precious books and occult artifacts.
As we reached the bottom, I gasped. Holy hell. He wasn’t an occultist. He was a Satanist.
My flashlight shone directly on a skull. Then another, then another. They were stacked along the walls, a macabre collection dedicated to death and the dark arts. Some of them were even decorated with gold gilt paint and lacquer. As if the gilded age tycoon couldn’t even leave death unadorned.
“They don’t look human.” Creely said behind me.
“That one is.” I pointed my light at a gold-painted skull that sat on top of a pillar, like a macabre bust. It was adorned with a dull red jewel between the eyes.
At the center of the room stood a black stone altar, with black tapers on either side. “Fuck it. I’m not lighting those,” Creely said.
I didn’t blame her. I also noticed neither one of us had moved from the very bottom of the stairs.
I’d heard of places like this, dedicated to the dark arts. “This is a black chapel.”
The biker witch let out a low whistle. “It ain’t Disneyland.”
“I wonder if this is what’s blocking my power.” I didn’t feel the heavy press of evil, like I should. Only the very real, very human instinct to run.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Creely said, obviously feeling the same.
“Give me a minute.” I forced myself to take one step forward, then another. The floor itself seemed tainted, the air I breathed, impure.
My flashlight snaked across the chapel. I walked behind the altar, like a dark priest would. I stood at the very center of the house, the vortex of evil.
There, carved into the black altar, was the third mark.
Chapter Seventeen
That was it. I hated to turn my back on the dark chapel, but I wasn’t about to have Creely behind me, either. I let her take the lead as we made tracks up the stairs and through the hidden office. She battled with the secret door we’d used to get us into this mess while I guarded her back.
She’d needed my light to find the latch, so I was left with a candle and my switch stars. I kept an eye on the bookcase we’d closed behind us. Nothing seemed to follow from below. Yet. For that I was eternally grateful.
“Got it.” Creely let the door swing open.
“Thank God.” I doused the last candle and followed her out. She slammed the door behind us, and I didn’t blame her a bit.
We were met by a startled Frieda, who stood a few feet away, stopped cold by our sudden appearance. “Err…” She fiddled with her hair. “People are looking for you.”
“In a minute.” I didn’t care who they were or what they wanted. I had a creepy grave dirt issue to address.
I wasn’t about to empty it inside the house. Who knew what that might do?
It would have to be done outside, completely off the property. I didn’t want this dirt anywhere near the house, or the land.
After that, I’d have to wash the necklace and purify it. I wanted nothing to do with the demented railroad baron or his dead bride.
I jogged down the winding drive, all the way down to the main road. Gargoyles stared down at me as I put one foot in front of the other, trying not to think about what I could have around my neck.
What I’d worn this entire time.
My body warmed from the run. Despite it, I felt cold inside. I half-expected Elizabeth to appear and try to stop me.
I hadn’t even heard the ghost’s voice until I stepped on that grave. Her grave. Well, no more. She could haunt someone else.
I reached the road, crossed it, and picked my way through tall spindly weeds to the cliff face on the other side. There would be no way for Elizabeth to contact me again. Or at least I’d do my level best to make it so.
Salt tinged the air, along with a cool breeze off the water. I stopped a yard back from the edge of oblivion. Call me crazy, but I didn’t trust the sturdiness of the land so close to a sheer drop off. I glanced behind me, making sure I was alone. This would be the perfect opportunity for murder.
