I stepped into the dark. A metal handrail ran along the wall. I reached out
to hold it, but the metal was badly rusted and had a slimy, tacky sheen.
Pulling my hand back, I grimaced.
The air was colder down in the basement. It held a lot of trapped moisturethat condensed over my skin. Ruby alternately pointed the torch at our feet
and panned it across the basement’s assortment of clutter. Judging by the dust
and cobwebs clinging to everything, I knew it hadn’t been visited in a very
long time. Possibly not since the Marwicks had perished.
I counted the steps. Twenty. They’d been carved unevenly, almost as
though the basement had been added as an afterthought. The steps levelled
out into a flagstone-plated floor. Thick wooden support beams rose out of the
ground to brace the higher rooms. They were spaced unevenly around the
basement, and long black shadows flitted across the wall as Ruby’s torch
passed over them. They reminded me of thick prison bars. I shuddered .
“Where’s the trapdoor?” Ruby muttered. She sent her circle of light
jumping over the boxes and shelves littering the area. “The stairs faced the
kitchen, which means…” She turned, and her torch landed on a square of
wood set high in the wall. “Ah-ha.”
“Good spotting.” I wove through the clutter to reach the door. It was
above my head, and there weren’t any stairs leading to it. “Damn. Look for
something we can stand on.”
Ruby rooted through a stack of rusted gardening implements. “There’s a
wheelbarrow here. It’s metal.”
“Good.” We each grabbed one end of it and dragged it under the trapdoor.
It made a horrific screech as it scraped across the stones. I wiped a hand over
my forehead then stepped onto the wheelbarrow. “Keep your torch on the
wood. “
The barrow was sturdy but not steady. It wobbled as I stood on it, and I
pinwheeled my arms to stay upright then grabbed the stone wall to keep
myself steady. Ruby took a few paces back so that her light would cover a
greater area. I felt along the thin crack between the small doors, but there was
no bolt on this side. I pushed and felt resistance.
“They’re locked from the outside.”
Ruby muttered something furious.
“Hang on.” I pushed against the wood again, testing my stability and the
trapdoor’s sturdiness. “If the lock was installed at the same time as
everything else in this basement, it’ll probably be rusty. I might be able to
break it open.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
The wheelbarrow shifted on the uneven floor as I applied more pressure
to the wood. I adjusted my stance on it then pushed harder. I heard some kindof metal groan. That was a good sign. I pushed harder.
Upstairs, the music was building up to a crescendo. I’d never heard the
song all the way through before, and I wished I didn’t have to then. The doors
bowed slightly as the lock bent. I tasted hope. Whatever Shreya had done to
the upstairs doors, she hadn’t done to this one.
The torchlight turned away from me, leaving me in darkness. I didn’t dare
move my stance while the wheelbarrow was so unsteady. “Ruby?”
“Just a moment. There’s something here.” I heard a scrape of what
sounded like cardboard being rubbed together, then a flutter of paper.
“Ruby, don’t let her distract you.”
“I’m not. I mean, she’s not. But look at this.”
My stomach turned cold. I resumed pushing on the wood. “We’re so
close. I just need a bit more leverage, and I can get this open—”
“These are psychiatric admission papers. They’re for Shreya.”