“Since neither of you is as familiar with the castle as we are, I suggest you and Fraulein Westen search the lower levels,” the manservant said.
“Lower levels?” Jane asked. “You mean, like, the basement?”
“I mean the von Westen family crypt,” the manservant responded blandly.
A chill rushed down her spine. “The what?”
“Ha! Not so brave now, are we?” Timothy asked in a mocking tone. “You two fools are going down into the catacombs.”
“Splitting up was your idea,” the manservant reminded her. “Would you like to change your mind and remain here?”
Absolute terror gripped her and a loud voice inside her head begged her to run away from this task. Screamed at her to see reason. But she remembered how overcome with grief Berta had been the night before over losing her friend, and she knew that she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. If they were going to survive this, they needed to work together. That meant Jane had to do her part. Even if it was absolutely horrifying.
She lifted her chin and looked right at the manservant. “No. I’m not changing my mind. Let’s do this.”
Already, the air was thinning. As Gabriel followed Jane down the stone stairs, the air was getting more and more stale as they descended into the castle catacombs. The light of the outside world above them was fading fast as they moved further away from the crypt entrance. Only the bright beam of light from the flashlight in Jane’s hand could penetrate the growing darkness.
When he got down off the last step, the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Suddenly it was colder than he had ever felt it in the castle.
“Too bad there’s no fireplace down here,” Jane said, her breath coming out in puffs.
“We should stay close to each other,” he said, maintaining his grip on the rifle.
She arched an eyebrow, her expression questioning.
“For warmth,” he added, resisting the urge to pull her close and hold her warm, curvy body to his.
“Got it.”
They started to walk side by side, maneuvering around the columns that gleamed as white as bone. Beneath the columns were dozens of sarcophagi, the stone tombs housing the bones of departed von Westens. Every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust that had piled up over the centuries. Filmy cobwebs that strangely reminded him of ghosts floated over the gloomy underground graveyard.
Desperate to banish the haunting silence, Gabriel said, “You’re handling this well.”
“Did you expect me to fall apart?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he said. “This is kind of a messed-up situation.”
“Yes, well, I’ve seen some crazy things go down at my workplace. Drug dealers and disgruntled Johns aren’t exactly the most professional people, you know?”
“Ah. That explains why you’re taking this in stride.”
She stopped in her tracks so suddenly it seemed as if she wanted to say something important. Instead, though, she shook her head and started to move again. “The sex didn’t hurt.”
“What?”
Despite the gloom, he saw the color rise in her cheeks. “Sex with you probably kept me from going completely crazy. So, thanks for that.”
“I can’t tell if that means I passed or failed.”
“Oh, you more than passed,” she said. “You kept my mind off the fact that somebody probably wants to kill us all. You’re a better lover than you are a lawyer, and you’re a damn good lawyer.”
“Hey, two compliments.”
She gave him a reproachful look. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Right. Well, keep your eyes peeled.”
“I know we’re searching for Berta, but I honestly don’t want to find her down here.” Jane sighed. “What do you think happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, despite the tightness in his chest. “If the killer didn’t get her, maybe she ran off and locked herself away somewhere to keep safe.”
“I hope we don’t find her down here. If we do end up finding her, that’ll mean we’re too late. As long as she’s missing there’s hope.”
“Hope is an illusion,” he said.
She stopped in her tracks again. “No, it’s not. Hope is all we have sometimes.”
Gabriel halted and gave her a hard stare. “Hope is a trick. A waste of time. You think it’s real, but it’s not.”
“You have hope that we’ll find Berta alive,” she accused.
“No, it’s not hope that’s keeping me going,” he said with a firm shake of his head.
“What is it, then?”
“It’s the knowledge that if some psycho is lurking around down here, I’ll shoot his head off if he tries anything. That’s not hope, Jane. That’s accepting reality,” he said. “Hope isn’t going to save Berta, or the rest of us for that matter.”
“The police will get us out of here.”
“The cops will get here eventually. Which means it might be too late by then. So I’m not relying on some strangers getting me out of this. Nobody is coming to save us, Jane,” he said. “There’s no knight in shining armor coming to rescue you.”
“I’m not a child,” she snapped.
“Good. So you know this isn’t one of your fairytales.”
She glared, anger turning her eyes into a pair of flames. “For your information, some fairytale heroines made the villains pay at the end of their stories.”
“You think I’m the villain of this story?”
“I don’t know what you are,” she fired back. “What I do know is that the only way through this is to work together. That’s what hope is to me. Trying even when it’s hopeless.”
That was probably why she had kept fighting to inherit the castle, even though she clearly didn’t have the resources to mount a decent legal defense. It was impressive, though he hated to admit it. “So that explains why you’re so damn stubborn.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been a thorn in my side for months,” he said.
She took a step towards him, the proximity of her body driving him crazy. “Good.”
“You know you can’t win this castle,” he bit out in frustration.
“Still all business, even now.”
“I thought you’d approve. Thinking about the future where my client and I inevitably beat you
