by Rachel Xu
She shoved him in the chest. “You jerk! Don't scare me like that.” She let out a nervous laugh.
Mike raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, it's not my fault you're so gullible.” He winked and reached for the battle axe.
Lily was about to retort when he tugged on the axe, bending it sideways.
A swish sounded and a sliding door opened in the paneled wall behind him. Startled, she stepped around him and peered into the opening.
Stone steps led downward into shadows.
“Here, I'll lead the way,” he said, moving in front of her and starting down the steps. “Hold the wall so you don't loose your footing.”
Twenty steps down they reached an arched wooden doorway, barely visible; the only light was the faint stream from the chandelier in the upper stairwell. Mike pressed down on an iron handle and pushed the door open. As it opened, warm air and yellow light spilled over them, banishing the darkness.
Chapter 5
Beyond the threshold was a deep and vibrant room redolent of chlorine.
The walls were painted with swirling, fanciful designs in rich color—aqua blue, lemon, and violet. Three large alcoves, two on one side of the room, the third on the adjacent wall, housed marble statues of angels; flecks of gold in their wings. In their outstretched hands were gilded platters loaded with bathing supplies and towels. Narrow pillars surrounding the room supported a high ceiling covered with thousands of tiny white lights—like twinkling stars in a bright night sky. On the far end of the room were reclining chairs and several tropical plants in ornate pots. Lily guessed the room to be some forty meters deep and at least twenty meters wide.
It was difficult to process all she was seeing and when she sensed a shadow moving below her and away from her, she peeled her gaze from the walls and ceiling and glanced down at the floor—nearly losing her balance at the sight.
She was standing on a glass aquarium floor.
In the indigo waters beneath her feet a school of tropical fish swam by over pink coral. A couple of meters ahead of her was an empty tub built into the see-through glass; its sides and bottom as translucent as the floors.
She gasped as a small sand tiger shark moved through the waters ahead and curved around the tub—approaching her. With a yelp, she stepped backward and bumped into Mike, who laughed and gripped her shoulders. The shark turned direction and moved away from them.
“Incredible, isn't it?” he said. “I can't even begin to imagine how this thing was constructed in the first place.” He didn't remove his warm hands from her shoulders and she made no attempt to nudge them off. She liked his closeness, especially after the shock of seeing a shark.
“How . . . I mean, I've never seen such a thing in my life,” she stammered. “The detail and work put into this room . . . It's—I just can't believe there's an aquarium under the floor.”
In slow motion, she imagined cracks forming in the glass like ice, the floor shattering beneath her feet, and both she and Mike plunging into the domain of the shark.
“Who feeds the fish and maintains the aquarium?”
Beyond the bathtub was a square swimming pool directly in the center of the room. It was filled to the brim with still water. She guessed the pool to be about fifteen feet in length and width, but because of the see-through floors, its beginnings and ends were difficult to discern.
Mike pulled his hands from her shoulders and moved away from her, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his shoulder against a pillar. “Ian takes care of all that,” he said, glancing around. “Apparently there's a hired marine crew that comes in regularly, but I've never paid much mind.”
A school of fish darted beneath her feet and she jumped. This was going to take some getting used to. Was she seriously expected to submerge herself in a see-through bathtub with little sharks swimming about? How thick was the glass?
“We really have nothing to do with them,” Mike went on. “And they know to keep themselves out of sight. Ian likes his privacy.”
She smiled distractedly. “Well, Mike, I really don't want to be late for breakfast, so I need to get a move on.” She scanned the room. “There's, uh, no upright showers—?” She frowned, hugging her clothing bag to her chest.
He nodded, seeming to understand her discomfort. “You're worried about privacy.”
“Yes, just slightly!” She laughed.
“No problem. Just keep the door locked till you're done and no one will be able to walk in on you.”
She knit her brow. “There's only one door giving access?”
Mike unfolded his arms and looked away. “Actually no, there's another—the one the marine crew uses. It gives them direct access from outside. I'll show you.” She followed him along the perimeter of the room to the other side.
Sure enough, there was another arched door between two floor-to-ceiling potted plants. She hadn't noticed it before because it was painted the same as the walls. Up close she could make out the lines of its frame quite clearly, like an outline.
“This door is always kept locked,” he said, “although the marine crew does have a key. But they come at set times, so we schedule our bathing times in between.”
She frowned, still not keen on the whole idea. She supposed she was going to have to bathe in a swimsuit from now on.
“You can trust us,” Mike said with a charming smile. “No one's going to come in here if the doors are locked. And if no one's using the tub, the door we entered through is left unlocked, plain and simple.” He paused. “I guess we could make for a more rigid security system, but we're a family here. It just doesn't seem necessary.” He headed toward the door they'd come from, saying, “I'll see you at breakfast.”
He reached the exit and checked his wristwatch. “It's only eight-ten, so you're golden.” With a smile and a wave, he left the room, closing the wooden door shut behind him.
When he was gone, Lily made sure both doors were indeed locked—all the while keeping an eye on the whereabouts of the shark. There were other colorful fish moseying about, but so far she'd only spotted the one shark. It was difficult to tell what all was in the water though, as many areas were darkened with coral beds, boulders, and bright green strands of seaweed. There could be anything in there.
Lily stood in silence for a while looking about, enchanted by the room. She stepped up to the empty bathtub and set down her canvas bag along its edge to examine it.
It was big enough for two people. Gilded pipes ran just beneath the surface of the tub floor and two taps were mounted on one end; three steps leading down into it from the other end. Jacuzzi jets were placed randomly about the tub walls as well as a raised area along the adjacent sides, which she presumed to be seating. Beneath the tub was a spread of coral. Much to her relief, it didn't look like there was enough space for a large fish to actually swim beneath it.
On second thought, Lily went back to the door, unlocked it, scooted up the stone steps, and jogged down the long corridor to the front of the mansion. She went upstairs to her room and scrounged around for her swimsuit, donning it quickly, and then returned to the far stairwell where the hidden door still stood wide open.
Reaching the tub again, she got down on her knees and leaned in to turn the knobs, adjusting the temperature as water gushed out. Deciding to indulge, she allowed the tub to fill fully. She didn't want to waste water but needed to relax. And for the time being, the shark was keeping its distance—but if it should come anywhere near, she'd be out of that tub in a flash.
When the tub had finished filling, she turned on the jets and glanced around as she removed her housecoat, still uncertain of her privacy. She wanted to trust these people but found herself presently unable. Too many unknowns.
After descending the steps, she sat down gingerly and the bubbling water swirled around her neck. She closed her eyes; not wanting to view any marine life while being submerged in it. The comforting heat began to melt away her stress and tension, and
her whole body tingled. A sigh escaped her lips. She could get definitely used to this.
Something scraped against the glass wall behind her—loud enough to be heard above the jacuzzi jets.
Lily's eyes snapped open and she scooted to the opposite side of the tub, looking all around the room and through the tub glass, heart pounding out of control. She shut off the jets and pulled her knees up.
The water settled and a hush fell over the room. Everything was where it should be. Even the shark was nowhere to be seen. She let out a slow exhale to steady her breathing; deciding it must have been the sound of a fish hitting or rubbing against the glass. An image of a dead maid floating in the pool filled her mind and a chill ran up her spine, despite the warmth of the water. But she rolled her eyes and let out a laugh.
Thinking back, it occurred to her that Mike might have told the story of the maid to distract her from further questions about the attic. And she'd fallen for it.
Lily reached for the shampoo and conditioner in her bag, assuming the drains would take the soap suds somewhere other than into the aquarium, and washed and rinsed her hair quickly. She was not going to let Mike off the hook so easily. Next time she saw him privately, she would ask about the attic again.
Wrapping a towel around herself as she emerged from the tub, she dressed awkwardly beneath the privacy of the towel; pulling on jeans and a thin, mauve-colored sweater. She combed her hair, and making sure she hadn't left anything behind, headed toward the exit. When she reached it, she turned the lock and stopped short, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.
She spun around.
But there was no one there.
Only the lifeless angel statues and the gliding shadows of fish beneath the glass floors reflecting the lights above.
Lily turned back to the door and pulled it open as something very large and very black slid beneath her feet.
She yelped and jumped forward, racing up the stone steps and through the open wall panel as though being chased. Not bothering to close it, she dashed out into the corridor and ran headlong into Ian—knocking him to the floor and tumbling down on top of him.
Chapter 6
Ian searched her face, laying his head back against the marble floor and staring up at her with wide eyes. She was sprawled atop of him, palms on his chest.
“What on earth, Ms. Kline?”
She blinked at him, momentarily disoriented, and inhaled his musky cologne and aftershave.
“There was something in the baths,” she sputtered, pulling herself up off him.
He sat up. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
“Well, I, I don't know. It was quite large. Black. Under my feet.”
Ian stood up and dusted himself off. “You saw a shark.”
The sand tiger was brown though. This thing was black, definitely black. But wait. Her cheeks burned and she felt stupid. Of course there must be more than one shark or fish species in there. Her heartbeat slowed and she broke eye contact, heat climbing her ears. How could she have been so silly?
“Right. Yes. That must've been it.” She glanced up at him, afraid to find a mocking look in his eyes.
They were calm and indifferent.
“The see-through floors take some getting used to,” he said.
She ran a hand through her wet hair. “So, tell me—how did my grandfather get so rich anyway?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Uh, good investments, I suppose.”
“You don't know?”
He shook his head, shrugging. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“But did he buy this place or inherit it?”
“Don't know that either. Never talked to him about it.” Ian reached down and picked up her bag, handing it to her.
“Is it true he died of a heart attack?” She tucked her belongings under her arm. It was what the lawyers had told her.
Ian's countenance fell and he broke eye contact, hesitating. “Yes. I found him not far from your room. He was”—he cleared his throat—”he was laying on his back in front of Mike's room.” A sidelong glance. He seemed timid suddenly. How was it that he could be so tall and intimidating one moment, and so small and shy the next?
“We'd better get to breakfast,” he said abruptly, “or Angie will wring our necks.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “She hates it when her food gets cold.”
An hour later, Lily sat on her bed and combed out the mild tangles in her air-dried hair. Exchanging her slippers for a pair of skimmers, she went out into the hallway and locked her bedroom door behind her. After glancing in both directions, she went up to the portrait of her grandfather and stood studying it.
The background was a buff-brown gradient. Auguste had blue eyes and a curly gray beard, hair thinning at the temples. He wore a tweed jacket over a white shirt with a navy tie. But other than a name plate at the bottom of the painting confirming that this was indeed Auguste Maxwell Kline, there was no new information about him to be gleaned from the painting.
As she turned away, the bottom right-hand corner of the molded frame caught her eye. It was shinier than the rest of the polished frame, as though the dust had been rubbed off by a finger. Or was it just the way the sunlight was hitting it; a trick of the eye?
Last night when Mike had reached for the corner of a picture frame in the west wing, Ian had yanked his wrist away from it.
What had Mike intended to show her?
Heartbeat picking up a notch, she reached up and touched her fingertips to the shiny edge of the frame—pressing into it gently. Would it swing open to reveal a wall safe?
Nothing happened.
She tried again, pushing harder.
A swish sounded but the painting remained as is. She glanced to her left at the stairwell leading down to the front entrance as cold air moved over her right side. She pivoted toward the draft.
A tall opening had appeared in the wall, a twisted stairwell beyond it.
Heart beating wildly now, she stepped toward the unlit room and peered inside. The wooden floors and stairs were coated in a layer of dust but visible footprints made a trail up the winding steps. Someone must have been here recently.
She moved into the room and searched the wall for a light switch but found none. Above her, the stairs disappeared into blackness.
Was this the passageway to the attic?
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, feeling like Nancy Drew. The air was cold and stale. She stepped into the prints already formed on the stairs, shaking off her unease. At least this way no one would know she'd been in here—unless someone came up to the hallway and found the wall panel open—which she realized was quite likely. But oh well, what did it matter? This house was legally hers now. Correction—hers and Ian's. She had every right to climb these stairs; though she would keep in mind Mike's warning about rotting floorboards.
After climbing ten steps or so, it was too dark to see the footprints any longer. She followed the curve of the winding stairs another ten steps, holding the railing, and reached a rounded second floor lit ever-so-faintly by a lattice window—realizing now that she must be in one of the turrets. She emerged from the steps and nearly tripped over a cane laying in the dust.
Stooping, she picked it up and blew dust from the gold handle. There seemed to be text engraved in it but it was too dark to make out the words. A few feet in front of her was a red door. With a shrug she reached for the knob.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her.
“Just what do you think you're doing?”
Lily spun around and came face-to-face with Hannah who was rounding the curve in the staircase. She reached the top step and put her hands on her plump hips.
“I—was just taking a look around.”
It was difficult to see Hannah's features in the shadows.
“Come along then, let's get out of here. This is no place for a young woman—or an old lady like myself! It's too dangerous up here.”
She dropped her hands from her hips. “Say, what's that in your hand?”
“It's a cane. I found it on the floor.”
Hannah stepped forward and snatched it from her. “It couldn't be—”
“What?”
“Come on—let's get out of here. We need to get into the light.” She turned and hurried down the steps carelessly. Lily followed after her, worried the old woman might trip and fall.
When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Lily noted with some regret that there were footsteps all over the place now. Oh, what did it matter? Hannah would probably tell Ian all about this anyway.
Hannah scurried out into the hallway, looking about furtively and gripping the cane in both hands. “How did you find this door?” she asked, face pale and eyes wide.
Lily stepped up to the painting and pointed, pushing on the corner. The wall panel slid shut, leaving behind no trace of the hidden door.
“Whose cane is that, Hannah?” she asked.
The housekeeper pulled a lace handkerchief from her apron and wiped the remaining dust from the handle and staff. “Look for yourself,” she said, holding it up, pursing her lips.
Lily leaned forward.
Auguste Kline.
“Why was my Grandfather's cane abandoned up there in the dust?”
Hannah stuffed the hankie back in her pocket and leaned on the cane.
Her eyes were watery. “I—I don't know,” she said. “He always had it with him. He couldn't walk without it, you see.” She took a deep breath, frowned, composed herself. “We never found the cane after his death—I've been looking for it!” She went to the stairwell, taking the cane with her. “Excuse me, Lily. I must be going.”
In a hidden equipment room next to the master baths, Ian donned his black scuba gear and zipped it up. He pulled on flippers and fastened an air tank and mask. He then climbed a short ladder and slid down into a square vat filled with water. It was used for feeding the fish and also served as the entrance into the aquarium.
He dipped underneath the cool water and swam downward and then upward through a short tunnel leading into the pool room. He swam first to the center of aquarium, where it was deepest, and began to search through the dips and dives of the corals.