Chapter 13: The Root Cellar Door

The main room of the lodge was dominated by a massive fieldstone fireplace that rose all the way to the exposed timber rafters overhead. Two men scrambled up from a wooden table near the front windows as we broke through the archway, shouting curses and fumbling for weapons, but the state troopers were already through the front door, their flashlights blinding the room in white glare while their service rifles locked onto the center of the space.

"Drop your weapons! State police! Keep your hands where we can see them!" the lead trooper barked, his voice echoing off the high wooden ceiling.

The two men froze, their hands hovering in mid-air before they slowly raised them, backing away until their shoulders hit the log walls. I didn't look at them. My eyes were fixed entirely on the heavy iron ring set into the wide oak planking directly in front of the stone hearth. A thick padlock hung from a steel staple, but the brass cylinder had been left unlocked in anticipation of the morning transfer.

I dropped to my knees on the rough floorboards, my hands wrapping around the cold iron ring. I pulled upward with all my strength, and the heavy oak door groaned on its rusted hinges, lifting away to reveal a dark, steep wooden stairway plunging down into the earth below. A draft of damp, chilled air rose up from the depths, carrying with it a faint, familiar scent that hit me like a physical blow—vanilla and wool, a scent I hadn't smelled in fourteen months.

"Elena?" I called out down the dark stairwell, my voice cracking slightly despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "Can you hear me?"

A faint rustle came from the bottom of the stairs, followed by the sound of bare feet shifting against stone. Then a voice answered out of the dark, weak and thin, but unmistakably real.

May you like

The Leather-Bound Menu Folder With a Gold Seal...

The warmth of the crystal chandeliers felt heavy against the back of my neck, casting long, wavering shadows across the polished s...

The Ten Seconds Behind The White Belt Tied Securely Around My Gi...

The fluorescent overhead lights of the dojo hummed a steady, high-pitched note that blended with the damp smell of disinfectant, r...

THE GHOST IN THE WHEELCHAIR

The screen of the cracked smartphone buzzed in Vincent’s palm like a live wire.On the four-inch display, bathed in the soft glow o...

"Chris?"

The sound of her voice cut through every remaining barrier in my mind. I didn't wait for Marcus or the troopers. I swung my legs over the threshold and descended the steep wooden steps into the dark, my boots hitting the packed earth floor of the cellar as I reached out in the absolute blackness to find her hands.