“Then what are you?” he asked. The bastard was enjoying this. Truth be told, I was too.
“What I am isn’t important. What or who you are is. If you want to stay here with my blessing, if you want me to make watching me easy, then you need to give me some answers.” I sat back and folded my arms, daring him to evade me again.
“Fine, ask,” he said. “Just be aware that if I tell you some of the things you want to know, you’re going to end up being even more involved in this situation than you are now.”
“Hmmm, let’s see, so far I’ve had to flee my job, been shot at in the woods by a nut with a tranquilizer gun, threatened by ghostly wolf-monks, and poisoned. It seems like I’m going to be involved whether I like it or not.” I didn’t mean them to, but tears came to my eyes. “Why? Why am I so special? Why are people after me? I’m just an ordinary woman.”
He wiped a tear from my cheek. I batted his hand away. Don’t show weakness.
“You are anything but ordinary, and a lot of people are curious about you. Some of them are more dangerous than others.”
That brought my focus back to what I needed to ask him. “So what is your role in all this?”
“I don’t want to put myself at a disadvantage, so let’s trade information. A question for a question. Fair?”
I nodded and hoped he could help me organize it all in my head.
“So to answer yours, my task is to watch you. It was supposed to be an observe and study role, but things aren’t that simple, are they? Plus, you don’t exactly stay in one spot.” He shook his head. “You were supposed to be an easy assignment.”
“No, things aren’t that simple,” I said. “That answers your first question. My turn again.”
He opened his mouth to object, but sat back and chuckled. “I’m enjoying this assignment more and more.”
I took a bite of omelet and chewed it completely before speaking again, watching him. He ate as well. To an outside observer, it would have looked like a serene domestic scene, but we were lining up our thoughts. He had me at a disadvantage, admittedly. He hadn’t been drugged and plagued with nightmares the night before.
A closer look revealed the dark circles under his eyes. It occurred to me that he hadn’t slept because he’d been watching over me. I squashed the sudden tender feeling—
he had tied me up, after all.
“So, my next question should be obvious: who do you work for?”
He closed his eyes. “I was afraid that would be it. I can’t tell you.”
“Good grief! Are you with the FBI or something?
“In a supernatural sense, yes. There, I get to ask you two.”
“Not so fast, buddy. You just clarified something, and you still didn’t give me a straight answer.”
He shrugged. “That’s the best I can do. My turn.”
“Fine.” I cut another bite, but his question nearly made me choke on it.
“What do you remember about your Aunt Alicia? Don’t leave anything out.”
“That’s not fair! That’s a huge question.”
“But still just one. Go ahead, I’m listening.”
I sighed but noted he’d asked what I remembered, not what I had discovered. “She was my mother’s older sister. We’d come visit her here every other summer or so. She was a great cook. She wasn’t a warm and cuddly person, but I think food is how she showed her affection.”
“Is that it?”
“You only asked what I remembered, and that was another question. My turn.”
“Fine,” he said, imitating me. “Go ahead.”
I weighed the different questions in my head. Finally, I decided to just go for it. “Who’s after me, and why? Tell me everyone and their reasons.”
His cell phone rang.
“What? Seriously?”
He motioned for me to shush and walked out of the room. The heat came to my cheeks, and I clenched my teeth.
No one shushes Lonna Marconi!
Before I could follow him out, he returned to the room. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I really need to lie down. I was up all night looking after a certain sick young lady, and I can’t do any more sparring.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Who is after me, Max? You can’t just wiggle out of answering my questions even if you did take care of me.”
“That’s the problem—we don’t know exactly who, only that they’re in the supernatural community and very dangerous.”
“Fine, you can have the guest bedroom in the other gable,” I said. “I’ll set it up for you. Just give me a moment.”
I made sure there were sheets on the bed. I also found the old baby monitor my parents had used when we stayed there. They used to think I didn’t know they were listening to me, but I knew they’d hidden the monitor in my room. I figured it was so they could get some private time on vacation. Now I wasn’t so sure. Max’s questions about my Aunt Alicia made me suspect there was something more.
I changed the batteries, plugged in the transmitter, and hid the receiver in my room before I fetched Max.
“It’s all ready for you. I put towels on the bed in case you want to clean up when you get up. Do you want me to wake you up at a certain time?”
“That will not be necessary, but thank you.”
I waited until I heard the door close behind him, and I grabbed the receiver and turned it on in the kitchen.
“I will be there momentarily,” he was saying, presumably on the phone. “Yes, the house is secure. I’ll know if anyone tries to get in or breaks the perimeter.”
He hung up, and I heard clothing being removed, then the sounds of someone sliding between sheets and breathing that quickly slowed and evened.
Damn, that’s one strong monitor!
I cleaned up the kitchen with one eye on the sky. The sun was almost directly over the skylight in the work room when I finished, and I fetched the chart I’d made from the photos and the dates on them. I stood in the door and waited for the tiles to become visible, my heart beating in quintuple time to Max’s soft breathing. It was tempting to show him how clever I was and what I’d figured out, but Gladis Ann’s note in her vague code had alerted me that the information I sought wasn’t for everyone.
I can’t trust him with my family secrets until I know who he works for.
It seemed longer than twenty-four hours from when I’d first noticed the lighter tiles, but I guess a poisoning attempt will do that to you. Finally, they were all visible, and, with Max being still asleep, I decided to go for it.
The tile corresponding to the photo with the earliest date tilted easily when I pressed it with my finger, as did the next few. Then I encountered a problem: the one that I had accidentally knelt on the day before. It moved easily, but the next tile didn’t budge. I dug around underneath the troublesome one, and I cleared out a bit of dried grout with my left hand. It snapped back up with my hand still half-stuck under it.
Son of a fucking bitch! I sucked in my breath so I wouldn’t shriek and wake up Max. I pressed with my right hand and got my left one unstuck. My fingers throbbed, and I wondered if I’d broken any. After cobbling together an ice pack from the kitchen, I got back to it.
Finally when I pressed the last tile, the floor rumbled, and I scrambled back to the kitchen. The tiles all snapped back into place—good thing I hadn’t put my right hand into any—and there was a grinding noise like rods or beams moving underneath the floor. A trap door opened in the middle of the floor to a cloud of dust. I coughed and fanned the air in front of my face with the paper I’d drawn the chart on, waiting for the swirling dirt to clear.
Whatever this is, she hasn’t been down there in a while.
Once the dust cleared, I shoved the paper into my pocket and grabbed the flashlight on the desk. I also got some onion goggles from the kitchen to protect my eyes and wrapped a dish towel around my face to provide a filter for my nose and mouth. A set of metal stairs that seemed sturdy enough led into the gloom, but they were narrow and
steep, so I descended them backwards. I needed my right hand for balance, and my left one still throbbed too much to grip anything, so I put the flashlight in the only place I could think of on short notice—my cleavage. It illuminated the ceiling of the space as I descended at least twenty feet into the earth below the house. The air smelled fresh, so I knew there must be some ventilation. It also made me concerned for whatever might be down here since paper would mold and rot if exposed to too much moisture.
If this were a horror movie, people would be yelling at me not to go down here. Damn, I should have grabbed my gun. If I go back for it now, I’ll lose too much time. My feet found solid ground, and I grabbed the flashlight from its spot and shone it around what turned out to be a cavern. Stalagmites poked up from the floor in sharp points, and stalactites hung from the ceiling like fangs. My heart rate ramped up, and panic squeezed my lungs. Bad things happen in caves. I shook my head and forced myself to take deep breaths. Inner monologue, still not helping. I need to focus on what I’m here to find. I looked around for anywhere my aunt would have hidden the family papers or any other clues to our history. There was a small tunnel off to the side through the forest of stone, so I followed it.
I had to duck so as not to hit my head on the ceiling. After about thirty feet, it tapered to a point that looked like a blank wall. I shone my flashlight on the wall and illuminated marks that looked like faded paint. There weren’t as many of them as there were pictures, but then I remembered Gladis Ann’s note and how she mentioned the secrets I had the odds to find. I pulled the chart from my pocket and looked at the dates I’d written. I pressed the wall in order of just the odd dates, and a small compartment popped open at the bottom about an inch. I pulled the drawer completely open and found a metal chest about the size of a large shoebox.
The box wasn’t heavy, so I cradled it in my left arm and made my way back through the tunnel and to the stairs. The light had faded, and my heart caught in my throat—the trap door was sliding closed.
The stupid thing must respond to the light!
I shoved the flashlight back down my shirt and climbed the stairs as fast as I could, but the box, although not heavy, was unwieldy, and it slowed me down. I reached the top just as the line of light faded, and I was left with burning thighs and lungs and no way out of the cave.
Chapter Twelve
Well, that was dumb. My self-criticism cut through the panic filling my chest. No one would hear me scream down here, not even Max.
Even so, I pounded on the ceiling. Nothing happened, of course. The flashlight beam wobbled and started to fade.
Oh, no no no no! I shook it, and it held steady. I’d changed the batteries, but it was an old flashlight, and it seemed to have a bad connection inside. Shit shit shit!
I shone it at the ceiling to see if there was some sort of release switch, but all I could see were the rods under the tiles, now slightly in misalignment and waiting for the tiles to be tilted in the right order to put them back and release them. I craned my neck for what must have only been a few minutes but felt like twenty. I need to conserve my energy and my light. Or I have to find another way out. I backed down the metal ladder-stairs and sat on the third from bottom one, the box on my lap and my feet on the ground.
“This isn’t what was supposed to happen,” I said out loud. My voice barely dented the thick silence. The darkness seemed to swallow my little flashlight beam and spit it back out in strange shadows that moved in my peripheral vision even when the light stayed steady. I knew I had to conserve it, maybe let it cool, but my finger hesitated every time I moved to switch it off.
You’re letting your imagination get away with you. I flicked off the light and caught my breath at the darkness so thick it seemed to have substance and pressed down on me. To stave off a panic attack, I wondered if my wolf self would be better able to find her way in the dark, but the absolute blackness of the cave made me doubt it. Even animals’ eyes needed some light to magnify and reflect.
Max will come for me in his spirit-form. I shook my head. I couldn’t count on him. I still didn’t know who he worked for or even what he was other than some sort of wizard. I also didn’t know if the cave had some sort of shielding in it. Someone said something about quartz blocking magical energies—these mountains have that in them, don’t they?
I regretted once again that I was never good at geography. No amount of blinking adjusted my vision to the darkness, and I remembered not even the faintest light reached the cave. Then my mind turned to how I was all alone and would likely starve if I didn’t die from a busted bladder first.
Stop whining and do something.
I sat up straight. That last thought, although characteristic of my self-talk, didn’t seem to come from me.
Great, now I’m hearing things.
I waited, but there was nothing there except a slight pressure behind my right ear.
Something skittered across my ankle, and I pulled my feet up. What the hell? Was that a scorpion? Or a big-ass spider? The sound of something moving came to my ears. The beam from the flashlight showed me a fresh winding path through the red dirt.
So either get up and move or stay here and play with the arthropods.
But if I leave and get lost, no one will ever find me.
I have the only copy of the chart that shows how the tiles work. Max may never find me, anyway.
My legs wobbled when I stood, but I forced them to move. If animals come through, it’s likely there are other passages, although they may not be human-sized. I shone the flashlight around the walls and found another crack that seemed to lead to a passage. The metal box fit under the lowest stair and wouldn’t be apparent unless someone illuminated the space under the steps, so I left it. My hand hurt, and I didn’t know what sort of tight spaces I’d have to fit through.
The crack did, indeed, lead to a passage, and I followed the trail downward. After a few yards, I saw something in the dirt that looked like footprints. Hopeful that I’d found a way out, I turned the corner, and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to not scream.
A skeleton leered up at me from its reclined position in front of a still that had been disassembled and dented. A few scraps of cloth clung to its joints, and a chipped rib cradled the bullet that had likely ended its life. Animals and bugs had cleaned it of flesh and organs, and spiders had tried to dress it again in gauzy webs, but it still seemed indecent.
“You poor bugger,” I said. “I guess moonshining didn’t work out so well for you, huh?”
The flashlight flickered, and I cursed as I glanced down and shook it, which seemed to bring its brightness back. I looked up to see a man in a red flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots gazing at me from deep-set eyes. His shaggy reddish hair and beard were flecked with gray.
I screamed and backed away, holding the flashlight out in front of me.
“Don’t move!” I said. “I’ll shoot.”
“Already done.” He gestured to the skeleton on the ground. “Got shot ten years ago.”
My heart beat in my throat, and I aimed the flashlight beam at him. It went through him and illuminated the far wall.
“Oh, dear Lord, you’re a ghost.”
He shrugged. “If that’s what you call it, Miss. I just know I ain’t been able to leave this cave since the sheriff’s men did this to me and my still.”
I tried to back into the passage I’d just come from, but I bumped into something cold and soft and knew he was behind me. Without looking back, I dashed toward the passage on the opposite side, but I tripped on something. The skeleton had grabbed my ankle. I jerked my leg back, but it held tight. I beat at it with my flashlight, but the bones may have been made of metal for all I could do to it.
“It’s been awful lonely in here, Miss.” The ghost stood over me now, looking down with a sad expression.
“I’m afraid I’m spoken for,” I said and tried to pry the skeleton’s fingers off my ankle one by one. It didn’t work. The ghost put one boot on my c
hest and pressed down. He’d seemed non-solid before, but now the weight of a three-hundred pound man crushed my breastbone. I swung the flashlight at him, but it went right through him.
“Shit!”
“Getting shot in the lungs, that’s what it feels like, Miss. First the air leaves you, and it crushes your chest.”
I gasped. “Get off me!”
More cold points closed around my leg, and the flashlight showed me the skeleton had its other hand around my leg and was pulling itself up, hand over hand. I kicked at its head, but it didn’t stop. My heel didn’t even dent the skull, which I found odd since it had obviously been there a while. Instead, it bit my ankle, and I was thankful for my thick socks and hiking boots.
“Son of a fucking bitch!”
“Your language isn’t very ladylike, Miss.”
“Don’t fucking care, Ghost.” Each word came out with effort. His boot had sunk a half inch into my chest. I tried to twist around but couldn’t move. “What are you doing to me?”
“I just want some company, Miss.”
“So you’re going to kill me?”
The shadows at the edges of the flashlight beam thickened and blackened, and an eerie howl reached my ears. The Benandanti monks! They’ve come for me. Their gathering cries reverberated along my nerves and through my bones, and I knew then I’d be doomed to join their pack forever.
Aunt Alicia, help me!
I felt it, then, the draw inward, and I followed it to that point in my center and then back outward. Something blocked me, and I shoved against it.
What is that?
Your memory. I was back there in the other cave then, the needle in my arm, being forced to change.
I don’t have time for this! I pushed past it and dove into the tunnel to escape. This time every bone and tendon snapped into place with brutal pops, and I flopped on my side, panting hard. The skeleton’s hands grasped at air because my wolf-leg was too narrow for it. The flashlight rolled away, but I didn’t need it anymore. I stood and shook off the towel and onion goggles and clothes, which had ripped. A low growl came from my throat, and the ghost backed away.
Long Shadows: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 2 Page 11