He slipped out of the room and headed to the second floor. He needed to make sure it was spick and span so as not to slow her down. Despite Niamh’s strange misgivings, the train had left the station.
Now they had but to wait.ThirteenI’d always had a sense for danger, especially if Jimmy was in said danger, and had a knack for knowing when one of my friends was about to call. Those were my only claims to the supernatural, and they were small ones. But something was going on here. Something strange.
The marble was warm beneath my fingertips, as though there were a fire in the hearth. But there wasn’t.
The floor felt warm beneath my feet, too, even though I was wearing shoes.
I dropped my hand in front of the blackened insides of the fireplace, letting the weird phantom heat soak into my fingertips.
“Am I cracking up?” I whispered, straightening up again.
I felt a compulsion to make my way to the far side of the room. A decorative cabinet had been pushed up against a corner. Just like in the foyer, the carvings moved and twisted, exposing ornaments hidden within their depths. Faces and figurines. A chariot and a horse. A great oak tree.
Toward the side, the moving shapes and decorations swirled around one central point. Around a circle.
That circle seemed to have a pulse.
Memories surfaced, of the same thing in a different room.
Moving without intending to, I let my finger hover in the air. Slowly, not sure what would happen, if anything, I fit the pad of my finger into a tiny groove I hadn’t seen when I’d first inspected this cabinet.
I pushed.
Click.
The side of the cabinet popped open.
I stepped back, surprised. Excited.
I glanced around, but Mr. Tom wasn’t behind me this time. I pulled on the cabinet. It swung open on oiled hinges, revealing a small doorway into the darkness beyond.
I fished out my phone, staring into the dark depths, before switching on the phone flashlight and stepping forward.
Which was when the situation caught up to me.
When I was a kid, I would’ve rushed into that small space without looking back. I would’ve—and did—check out the bowels of the house with all the wonder of youth. And I’d nearly plummeted from a third-story trap door to my death.
Anything could be in that space. Bats. Poisonous spiders. Rats with huge fangs.
My phone’s battery said twenty-one percent and the time read 9:02. It was late, my battery was low, and this probably wasn’t a good idea. At least not at the end of the day.
I took a step back. Mr. Tom had said he knew about two passageways—was this one of them?
Curiosity pulled at me like a tow rope attached to a monster truck.
“Could be dangerous in there,” I reminded myself, staring into the depths.
A step forward.
Memories flooded me. Giggling. Pushing the button and gesturing for Diana to follow me. Running through the walls and coming out in another place altogether. It struck me that we’d never gotten lost within the walls. I’d never been turned around.
Two more steps.
I angled my flashlight, feeling the walls close in around me. Usually I wasn’t good in small spaces, but this was no problem for some reason. It felt safe. Comforting, almost.
“I’m definitely cracking up,” I whispered, the sound of my voice muted within the tight space.
The cabinet stayed open behind me, allowing in some additional light as I worked into the dark depths. When I turned a corner, though, external light was no longer needed.
Soft blue light filtered down from the corners by the ceiling, partially illuminating the tiny passageway, big enough for one and a half of me, or just one Austin. It provided enough light to see, although not so much that it blinded me to the surrounding darkness. It must’ve been recessed lighting of some sort. I shut off my phone light and noticed that no cobwebs stretched across the walls. Nothing skittered around my feet. It was just as clean as the rest of the house.
A little square room opened up off the passageway, which continued onward. On one side of the space sat a bench big enough for two skinny people. On the other side was an alcove with a picture frame at eye height and a little metal orb embedded within it.
Naturally, I stepped up to look through it. The orb was some sort of glass, and through it I got a fish-eye view of the space on the other side. Mr. Tom stood stock still in the middle of the small sitting room, one I had wandered through earlier. It had held little fascination for me compared with the rest of what I’d seen. He stared off at nothing.
“Yes, yes, quite,” he said.
I jerked back from the orb. Then pushed in closer again, because what in the holy hand grenades? Who was he talking to?