by Mara McQueen
“What’re you doing here? Get back,” he whispered harshly and extended his arm in the direction of the manor as if Olivia was being a petulant toddler.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she snapped back and retreated under the shelter of the tree, eyeing the crumbling building warily. The light on the second floor had disappeared. “I’m not leaving you alone against whoever was stupid enough to break into a deserted boathouse.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“And I don't want you to get hurt.”
They stared at each other for a few tense seconds, each one tilting his chin higher than the other. Finally, he sighed. Success.
“Let’s go, then.” Olivia took a hesitant step in the direction of the boathouse.
Kieran stepped in front of her, narrowing his eyes. “You stay behind me at all times. If I’m incapacitated, you take my gun—if you can—and run back to the manor. You lock the doors, gather everyone and don’t come out until you can call the police. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Olivia saluted him sternly and followed him, hunching her shoulders under the icy rain trying to pierce her skin.
Her drenched clothes clung to her body, making her movements clumsier. But Kieran looked like dangerous efficiency, even soaked through, clutching his gun with both hands and keeping it at his side.
As they approached the house, Olivia’s heart pounded loudly. What if...what if there was a murderer inside? Or someone drugged out of their mind and violent? Or a thief with an equally dangerous weapon?
Kieran turned the rusty door handle slowly. The door didn’t budge. Olivia exhaled a relieved breath. Maybe they’d imagined the light. After all, adrenaline had been coursing through them both. Things had gotten tense back in his study. It was already hard to see outside because of the rain.
Then again—what if someone who knew how to pick a lock and cover their tracks had broken in?
Kieran reached for an uneven brick near the outer edge of the door and wrenched it out of place. Nestled behind it lay a misshapen key, which he lodged in the door gently. He gave Olivia one last pointed look and opened it in one swing.
Nothing moved in the darkness awaiting them. Olivia gulped, utterly petrified.
“Stay behind me,” Kieran mouthed. Olivia nodded, heart in her throat.
They stepped inside slowly, the soggy wood bending underneath their weight. Kieran turned on the flashlight and waved it around with jerky movements. The gloomy interior was mostly bare, except for a few decrepit cupboards, a closet on the opposing wall, and a rotting wooden staircase.
The boat tunnel dominated the left side, reinforced with large mossy bricks. The lake splashed noisily against the opening, the sound amplified in the maze of wooden beams supporting the entire structure.
“I saw it on the second floor,” Olivia said, lips near Kieran’s ear.
He nodded and directed the flashlight over each crevice. The floor had decayed beyond repair, with large gaps between the wooden panels. Olivia shuddered—vermin probably crawled all over and under this damn building.
They explored the entire room, Olivia keeping an eye on the staircase. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness; even without the flashlight, she would’ve been able to make out someone creeping in the shadows.
A lingering rotten stench lingered in the air despite the wind howling through.
“Hold this.” He shoved the flashlight into her hand. “I’m going up. Don’t forget the plan.”
“Okay...” Her voice broke when her eyes darted to the stream of water sloshing against the tunnel. It looked threatening and ghostly.
Kieran turned, gun raised and wet hair shoved back from his eyes. He dashed up the stairs, moving faster and more silent than any human should.
The only reason Olivia had agreed to his plan was to spring up on whoever was foolish enough to attack a man like Kieran. She might not have a gun, but she knew a thing or two about the element of surprise.
Alone, Olivia pressed her back against the nearest wall, eyes darting in every direction. Her pulse raced and she tried to grasp the extended baton tighter. Her hands were sweaty and shaky.
Each time a powerful gust of wind propelled the water against the boat tunnel, the loud splashing made her shudder, the constant noise deafening. If someone was there, waiting to attack—
The thought sent a chill down her spine and warped her mind with disturbing scenarios—a lone dark figure descending the stairs ominously, slowly, staring at her through the shadows. Or worse, a silhouette racing toward her, all malice and teeth.
She could barely breathe, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
She turned the flashlight to the ceiling. Tiny flecks of dust and grime fell above her from the power of the storm. As light as Kieran moved, the rotten wood still contorted under his feet. Olivia’s heart hammered each time he stopped moving, waiting for the inevitable scuffle.
It never came.
“Clear!” Kieran yelled after a couple of minutes, the sound faint in the rain.
Olivia exhaled deeply, the tension leaving her body in one swift wave. Of all the shitty ways to end a day, this one shot to the top of her list.
Her relief lasted no more than a second. Something—or someone—caused a sinister creek behind Olivia.
She whipped around, baton raised and body rigid. Her heart beat so loudly, she could hear it above every other noise.
But there wasn’t anyone behind her.
Yet...upstairs might’ve been clear, but whoever had wondered in the boathouse could’ve easily fit inside the large sturdy closet in the back of the main room. Olivia cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She could have been ambushed at any moment.
Maybe the coward had chosen to hide, instead of facing them.
Olivia approached the closet as stealthily as her insecure limbs allowed. Had someone spied on them from this closet? Had someone been waiting for them in there?
Inching closer, Olivia raised her hand, hovering it over the door handle. The muscles in her body were taut, waiting for whatever would come at her. She steeled herself and moved closer, clenching her jaw to the point where it hurt.
A hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her back.
Olivia let out a primal scream and swung her baton back, hitting something solid. The flashlight hit the floor.
She stumbled back into one of the cupboards, toppling it over. Its contents spilled out onto the floor, some of the smaller tools falling between the gaps.
“Y—you!” Olivia yelled.
Kieran stood before her, gun in one hand, while he pressed the other against his shoulder. He squinted his eyes and rubbed the spot where Olivia had hit him.
“Shit. Sorry,” Olivia muttered under her breath and pushed passed him. She yanked the closet door open.
There was no one there. Absolutely nobody.
Apart from a few useless knick-knacks loitering the bottom...nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“This is why I’ll have the mother of all bruises on my shoulder tomorrow?” Kieran asked, sounding more relaxed now. But there was still an edge to his voice like he didn’t quite trust that they’d gotten off this easily.
“I’m sorry. You scared me.” Olivia bent down to retrieve the flashlight.
"I think we might’ve been imagining the light,” he said, sounding as doubtful as Olivia felt.
Something was off. And she hated not knowing what. “Maybe we should check the tunnel—”
A loud moan echoed around them. Olivia’s blood froze.
Kieran raised his gun. So he’d heard it too.
Both of them couldn’t have imagined lights and sounds. At the same time.
The eerie sound had come from a gape in the floor, next to the metal closet.
Inching together slowly, weapons raised, they slowly approached the gap. Nothing seemed wrong.
Then Kieran tilted the flashlight down.
Olivia stopped breathing.
She sto
pped thinking.
Dark spots danced in front of her eyes.
Collapsed face down in the mud, with his shirt ripped to shreds, the corners of his mouth smudged with mud and blood, smelling like death, was Milo.
And he wasn’t making a sound anymore, no.
He was bloody and silent.
Festering Madness
The next seconds passed in a blur.
Olivia was barely aware she squeezed inside the hole and fell down on her knees, tiny pebbles digging into her flesh. She wobbled around in the dark, using her free hand to guide herself to Milo.
Disregarding all first aid advice her teachers had drilled into her from a young age, Olivia turned his limp body so that he faced upwards.
Kieran landed behind her with a soft thump.
“Is he breathing?” He ran closer, shining his flashlight onto Milo’s mangled face.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the gashes on Milo’s face and torso, cacked blood and grime in every split. Then it skipped a beat when she saw his chest rising and falling.
Shallow, but Milo was breathing. Olivia cried out in relief, her body bending over his to shield him from any further danger, like a mother protecting her newborn. She cradled his beaten face in her palms. He was cold, so cold.
Kieran inspected the perimeter of the space, gliding along the jagged walls.
Olivia shot up when Milo moved, a muffled groan escaping his cracked lips. He tried to open his eyes. One of them had a large cut on the eyelid and drooped.
Olivia's scream crawled up her throat, threatening to choke her. She wanted to hurl. What monster had done this to him?
“My God, my God, my God, my God.” She gently raised Milo’s shoulders, struggling to get him upright. It didn’t work.
“Please, Milo, please, please, please,” she said and tried to lift him again, lurching him into a seated position. He was too heavy, too far gone, too—
A sudden movement shook her out of the panic she had plunged into. Kieran reacted before her, but it was too late.
A dark cockroach of a shadow crawled up the hole with quick, inhuman movements. Kieran fired a single shot, but the monster had already toppled the large cabinet over the entryway.
“Fuck!” Kieran pushed at the thick metal rectangle, to no avail.
Quick steps resounded above them. And to their horror, whoever was up there left the boathouse.
“Nan. I have to get to Nan,” Kieran screamed, and pushed at the cabinet again, punching the metal uselessly. It didn’t move.
Gritting her teeth, Olivia stood upright, propping Milo’s limp back against her knees.
Steeling herself, she used all her strength to hoist Milo up.
They had to get back to the manor. Call the police, call an ambulance, call upon ancient gods to save his life.
Olivia’s knees buckled and Milo crumpled against her. Her eyes watered from the pressure.
If men could haul sharks from the ocean, she could carry Milo. She would carry him, even if it meant she’d collapse as soon as he was safe.
“Please, Milo, I need you to focus. Can you do that? Stay with me here.”
She almost cried in relief when Kieran dashed to her side. He picked Milo up gently, like he weighed nothing. “Whoever did this must have used the tunnel coming from the manor.”
Milo moaned and jerked against Kieran.
“You...you think someone from Bolton Manor did this?” Olivia asked in a shaky voice. Her mouth dried up and she had a hard time swallowing down her fear.
Kieran’s uncertain gaze shot through her core, and Olivia’s world collapsed all over again.
If Kieran's cool mask was crumbling, then the danger was very, very real, and very frightening. Whoever had done this to Milo was close by. And it was someone from the manor. Or maybe more than just one—
Now it wasn’t a matter of walking a few hundred feet—it was about getting the fuck away from Bolton Manor. But first, they had to make sure every single innocent person inside the house didn’t end up like Milo.
Milo's one good eye started watering and he shook so much, Kieran’s steps faltered. “You’re going to be okay. But you need to stop jerking.”
Milo must’ve understood him because he stopped fighting with whatever energy he still had left.
“Let’s go,” Olivia muttered.
They started marching at the same time. If Kieran hadn’t been by her side, she wouldn’t have been able to carry Milo.
If Kieran hadn’t been there, she would’ve probably ended up with her skull bashed in, the madman staring down at her defeated body.
Monster. Criminal.
Milo’s wounds looked too severe and too vicious to have been inflicted by a single person. The ferocity with which his body had been beaten—who knew how many people participated.
Olivia shivered. No. Ludicrous thought. But she knew one thing. The only people she could trust right now were Kieran and Milo.
Someone had attacked Milo and tortured him. Probably planned on finishing him off.
Someone from the manor.
Who?
The walk through the damp, horrendous tunnel seemed endless. Olivia kept looking behind her, whispering soothing nonsense to Milo. She didn’t see another soul. Kieran gave her the flashlight at one point, propping Milo more securely.
The walls of the tunnel were closing in. If they didn’t find a way out...
“We’re going to get out of here,” Olivia said. She didn’t know if she was talking to Milo or trying to convince herself. “You’re going to live and we’ll send the son of a bitch who did this to you to jail for the rest of his life.”
Kieran remained silent, eyes trained on the darkness ahead of them. The flashlight bobbed in Olivia’s hand, her nervous grasp on it doing more harm than good.
“When we get to the house, you call the police right away,” Kieran declared with finality. Between them, Milo gave another loud, sorrowful moan.
Olivia would breathe again once they were safe and far away from the festering madness in the manor’s bowels.
“We’ll get you to the hospital soon,” she said, her words sounding fake. “You’re safe now, I promise. You’re safe.”
Milo only groaned in response. What remained of his shirt had a huge splatter of blood on one side. Blood in his hair, tainting his blond locks. Blood on his pants. Blood everywhere.
Milo’s head bobbed from side to side as they kept advancing. If his injuries looked so bad, Olivia didn’t want to think of his internal damage.
The guilt was eating at her.
If only she’d inspected his sudden departure more. If only she wouldn’t have thought the worst of him.
If she hadn’t seen the light in the boathouse if Kieran hadn’t looked underneath the floor, if—she shivered.
Milo would have probably been dead by now. Which begged the question—why wasn’t he?
Olivia licked her lips and cast an anxious glance in Kieran’s direction. He hadn’t made a sound in over ten minutes, his jaw so tight, Olivia feared it might snap.
“There’s something up ahead,” he whispered. He cocked his gun with one hand, keeping it raised before him.
Olivia kept her hand still long enough to shine the light against a dead end.
“No!” Olivia shouted.
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, digging into her eye sockets painfully, willing the desperation away. If she panicked, she wouldn’t be able to think. She opened them again, peering at the impenetrable wall denying them access.
“There’s light on the other end,” Kieran said, grounding her.
Olivia’s eyes snapped open. A small patch shone in the dim light. Her heart skipped a beat. She approached the wall quickly.
But it wasn’t a wall. It was a mural. Olivia could’ve cried out in relief. Bless the Boltons and their paranoia.
Bracing herself, she hit the edge of the glass with her shoulder as hard as she could. It didn’t budge.
Thankfully, it didn’t shatter. The last thing they needed was more noise announcing their arrival.
A brief moment of relief passed between her and Kieran, before they continued their trek, as silently as possible with an almost comatose man in tow.
They made their way down the main tunnel, passing Addie and Darryl’s stash and Milo’s luggage on the way.
Shame screamed just at the edge of Olivia’s reason. She squashed it down. She would berate herself at her leisure once they were all safe and sound.
“We should’ve been there by now,” Kieran ground out, his breathing reduced to small puffs of strained air.
“I’m sure Mrs. Bolton's alright.”
Kieran nodded robotically but didn’t say anything. They didn’t need words right now. There’d be time for those later. Now they needed their shared silence to drive them forward.
He picked up his pace. When they were all calm and safe again, Olivia would thank him. He could’ve let her and Milo struggle on their own, while he dashed through the manor, gun in the air. He hadn’t.
Milo wasn’t the only one who would owe Kieran his life.
Just as they passed the last mural, Milo inhaled sharply and hunched, a violent shiver wracking his beaten body.
Olivia stopped breathing.
"He's seizing," Kieran said, placing him gently on the ground.
Milo's eyes rolled behind his closed eyelids.
The ringing in Olivia’s ear overwhelmed everything around her. She cradled Milo’s convulsing head, her baton forgotten on the wet ground.
A current seemed to pass through Milo, making his limbs twitch. His left arm hit her over the head and she cried out. Olivia stepped back.
“He has to calm down before we can do anything,” Kieran whispered, his gaze darting toward the end of the tunnel.
Olivia saw it. His indecision. The dreaded moment Kieran would abandon them and run to save his grandmother, who had saved him long ago. Her desperation rose with each moment Kieran didn’t take his eyes off the exit.