How I prevented myself from rolling my eyes, I will never know. “Okay. You get us in there. I’ll bring my phone and time us.”
I knew he didn’t want me to come, but what could he say? It was my idea. Finally, he said, “All right. But you do not leave my side. Until the murderer’s caught, that is a very dangerous place.”
I agreed. I didn’t want to wander around a dark, dusty cellar by myself anyway. I didn’t have a death wish. Rafe might be a lot of things, but he was an excellent protector.
Chapter 16
Violet complained that I was leaving her alone to run the store again, but she didn’t sound very sorry to have the place to herself. She tended to slack off when I wasn’t around, reading the newest knitting magazines instead of putting them on display, and between customers, I suspected her of playing on her phone instead of cleaning and re-stocking shelves. However, she was good with the customers and she was an excellent knitter, plus, family. Since she was also a witch, I didn’t have to hide my powers around her, which was a real bonus.
Rafe came to pick me up, and we drove to the Percival Brown residence. “How are you going to explain me being here?” I asked him as we purred along in the black Tesla.
“You leave that to me. Your only job is to keep your mouth shut and do as I say.”
This time nothing in the world could prevent me from rolling my eyes. He might be able to see me out of his super vampire peripheral vision, but I really didn’t care. “You have noticed that in the last century, women have been allowed to own property, vote, have our own opinions. We’re allowed to work outside the home. The world is such a different place than in your time.”
“As you keep telling me.” He didn’t sound like it was an improvement, but I suspected he was winding me up so I refused to engage in a fruitless argument.
Instead, I watched the scenery go by. It was a beautiful, spring day, and the fields were green, the lambs were adorable puffs of white staying close to their mothers, and wild bluebells were beginning to bloom. We passed ancient pubs, new housing developments and the odd historic monument.
Around noon, we pulled up in front of the Percival Brown residence, and I was pleased to see that there were no police cars this time.
Rafe rang the doorbell, and Briggs, the butler, answered. He seemed pleased to see us. He was the most likable butler. “Rafe, what a pleasant surprise. And Lucy. Welcome.”
“I hope it isn’t too much of a surprise. Hugo has a case of wine for me.”
“Yes, he left instructions. Unfortunately, he’s had to go into town today. But he told me to give you the key to the wine cellar. I can take you down there if you like, but he said you know your way.”
“I do. Lucy’s trying to learn about wine storage, so I brought her along.” Oh, that was thinking on his feet. I could see that Briggs was wondering what I was doing here. Since he associated me with catering rather than knitting, the excuse was a good one, and it immediately cleared the puzzlement from the butler’s brow.
“Would you like some refreshments before you head down to the cellar? Tea? Sandwiches?”
“No, thank you. We won’t take up too much of your time.”
I surreptitiously pulled out my phone, and as we passed the dining room, I put on the timer.
I followed Rafe down to the cellar. He unlocked the gated entrance and opened it for us, then turned on the light switch. The bulbs were dim and dusty, but at least they cast enough light for us to find our way into the labyrinth before us.
Rafe and I walked in. Immediately I felt the change in atmosphere. It was cool and still. There was some kind of ventilation coming from somewhere, because it didn’t smell dank or damp. I looked around, and all I saw was rows of bottles of wine. It was like a bookshop, only instead of being crowded with books, it was loaded with bottles and bottles. Each squared-off section had the kind of wine, and the year, and it looked like the number of bottles. Most of them were dusty with age. “This is so cool,” I said.
I pulled out the map, and we made our way to the spot where the wine for the dinner had come from.
“He’s very deep into burgundy,” Rafe murmured as we went past vintages that went back to the 1930s.
As I moved deeper into the wine cellar, a strange feeling began to press upon me. It was like sadness, darkness. I felt like my heart was beating too fast. Was I getting claustrophobic? I lost interest in reading labels and dates. I wanted to get out of here and fast. We found the wine from the dinner party. I could see the space where the wine had come from. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me. I glanced at Rafe. “Can we go now? This place is giving me the creeps.”
But he was standing very still, and he lifted his head a little and sniffed the air, like a police dog on a scent.
“Do you sense anything different?” he asked me. He might be pretty dismissive of me a lot of the time, but he definitely took my witch talents seriously. Well, more seriously anyway, now that I was actually learning to use my talents.
“I feel darkness and almost a sense of claustrophobia,” I admitted.
He said, “Turn off that timer. We can roughly double it if we’re working out the timing for the boys getting back to the dining room from here. But let’s take a look around.”
I didn’t really want to. I wanted to get out of there. But I
