Chapter 19 #2
“Maybe. But the pictures online are strange.” Sarah pursed her lips. “I want you two to be careful and keep an eye out for anything else strange going on. If this is something supernatural, hopefully the next occurrence will be somewhere we can investigate.”
Thank God they’d agreed to not use the grimoire again.
“We’ll be on high alert,” Charlee told her, and Miles murmured agreement. One of them must’ve cashed in some good karma because they’d just dodged a serious bullet.
Once his mom was safely occupied stripping leaves from the stems, Miles slipped his phone back out to read Gabriel’s message.
No. We need to find where the other
end of the tunnel comes out.
The tunnel. Goosebumps sprang up across Miles’s body.
Is that a good idea? What if another one of
those things is down there? I thought it was
an escape tunnel and just leads out on the
property
He was aware he sounded like the world’s biggest chicken, but if he was going to be dragged back down there, he wanted to make sure it was worth it.
Even if they found the other entrance and managed to get back down there, they’d eventually reach the place where it had collapsed— and that meant another place to be cornered by a demon dog with no escape.
I said that it might be.
Where else could Jocelyn’s tomb be?
Anywhere else, preferably.
“Gabriel wants to go back into the monster tunnel,” he whispered to Charlee, his words covered by the rush of the faucet. “He thinks Jocelyn’s tomb is hiding down in that creepy, smelly, dirty—” A thought struck him, stopping him mid-sentence.
“Dirty…?” Charlee prompted.
“C’mon.” He tugged her from the table. “I need to check something.”
They went up to his bedroom, where Jocelyn’s journal was tucked away in his desk drawer. He hadn’t touched it since Blanche’s accident.
“I thought you already read that thing,” Charlee commented as he filed through the thin pages.
“Shhh.”
Charlee waited, radiating impatience as she crossed her arms. He’d forgotten how difficult Jocelyn’s tiny handwriting was to read, but he eventually found the page he was looking for.
“Jocelyn wrote down the details of her own death premonitions to try and save herself.” Miles rotated the journal towards Charlee, pointing at one of the final entries.
“Look— dreams of slick stone, the smell of dirt, a crushing weight. When I first read it, I thought this was her foreseeing her body being buried. But that never happened. She was taken to the tomb.”
Charlee’s freckled nose wrinkled in confusion. “So? Stone and dirt, it sounds like a tomb to me.”
“I was just there, there’s no dirt. It’s all stone. But the tunnel has a dirt path. The whole place smelled like wet earth. If Florence took her down there, or knocked her out and dragged her through…”
“Dirt doesn’t exactly narrow it down. Maybe she attacked Jocelyn outside because she didn’t want to make a mess in her house.”
“Then created an invisible tomb to lock her body in?” That was the key here. Gabriel was right, there was nowhere else for it to be. “There are no other buildings on the property. The tomb must be under it.”
He should’ve known. It was never going to be through a cozy hidden passage in the Hawthorne mansion, with plenty of light and an easy escape route. No, instead they had to go back to the murder hole from Miles’s nightmares.
Charlee patted his shoulder. “Let’s just hope nothing tries to eat you this time.”
I think you’re right… jocelyn’s
journal hints at the tunnels too
Gabriel must’ve been waiting for his text because he responded immediately.
We need to go down there.
My mother is gone until tonight.
This could be our best opportunity for days.
Shit. “Gabriel wants to go now. Any ideas how to get past my mom?”
Charlee shrugged. “Tell her I’m running some errands and want you to come with. She’ll either buy it or she won’t. If not, we’ll have to sneak out tonight.”
Miles was going to die if he went one more night without more than a few hours of sleep. He glanced at the time—it was still early enough that they could get back before dinner and keep his mom’s suspicions to a minimum.
Gotta get past my mom… I’ll keep you updated
“Let’s give it a shot.” Charlee turned to leave, but he caught her arm.
He’d been putting off telling her, but if she was driving him to Gabriel’s, he couldn’t procrastinate any longer.
“Hang on, I need to tell you something first… Gabriel and I are dating. Like, for real. Officially. He’s my boyfriend. ”
It gave him a giddy, head-spinning thrill to say it out loud.
He’d expected an eye roll or a sarcastic comment, but Charlee grinned. “I knew it. You were way too gooey-eyed and giggly after he slept over.”
“I was not!”
“You totally were.” She gave him a hug, stepping on his toes.
“I’m glad he got his brain working again.
Idiot shouldn’t have made you wait so long.
” When she pulled away, she nudged him playfully.
“So, is it everything you dreamed of and more? You two sneaking off to make out in the janitor’s closet? ”
If spontaneous combustion was possible through mortification, Miles would’ve burned to a crisp by now. “I thought it would feel different, but he’s still just… Gabriel. It’s easy because nothing’s really changed.”
Charlee arched a brow. “Nothing?”
“I mean, there’s a bit more… touching.” Charlee snorted and Miles pinched her. “Shut up. We’re taking it slow, just letting it be natural. And, in case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t had much time for romance between getting attacked and digging through the grimoire.”
“Letting the passion build up, huh? See who snaps first?”
“Oh my God, this isn’t one of your books.” Miles ran a hand down his face, wishing he could disappear. “Can we please stop talking about this and go lie to my mom?”
Charlee’s expression sobered. “Are you going to tell her?”
He’d been trying not to think about it. The excuse he’d always made to give himself time to come out was that he’d do it when he had a boyfriend. Now that time had come, and he hated his past self for making that decision.
“I don’t know.”
“There’s no rush.” They linked arms and she tugged him into the hallway. “Do you see how much I love you—I didn’t make one comment about your terrible taste or how you could do a lot better than stink-face sweater vest boy.”
“I’m very proud of you.”
They returned to the kitchen, Miles’s mom chopping the mountain of rosemary. A green, herbaceous smell filled the room.
Charlee leaned casually against the fridge. “I was going to run a few errands, stop by the craft store and the library… you mind if Miles tags along?”
Sarah paused, setting her knife down and studying them. There was no way this was going to work; she’d see right through their flimsy lie.
“That’s fine,” she finally said. “Just be home by seven— I’m making chicken and dumplings for dinner.”
Either Miles had sudden good luck, this was some kind of sneaky trap, or his mom was giving him the benefit of the doubt and choosing to trust him.
“Easy peasy,” Charlee chirped, then turned to Miles. “I’ll go grab my keys.”
As she ran upstairs, Miles went to get his coat, but Sarah stopped him. “Wait a minute. I wanted to talk to you about something.” She hesitated, and his insides gave a violent, nervous twist. She blew out a breath. “I… I haven’t been a very good listener lately, have I? I’m sorry.”
Miles didn’t say anything. He hadn’t been prepared for an apology. Part of him wanted to tell her it was okay and brush it off, but they’d both know it was a lie.
His lack of an answer didn’t seem to bother her.
“I should’ve said that days ago, but I…” She swiped her hair out of her face. The remorse in her voice made him want to grind his teeth. “I’m ready to listen, if you have anything to tell me.”
She suspected something was going on. She had to.
If Miles opened his mouth right now, there was a solid chance he’d puke.
He wanted to feel triumphant that she’d apologized and admitted she’d messed up, but it was smothered beneath a wave of apprehension.
Here she was, handing him the opportunity to come clean on a silver platter, to finally rid himself of the weight of his lies.
And he couldn’t take it. He wanted to believe so badly that it would go differently this time. That they could sit down at the table, and she’d listen to the whole story before saying a word.
But it wasn’t worth the risk.
Miles made himself turn away from her. “I don’t.”
She was wearing her charms, but he swore he could feel her hurt. The sting his words inflicted. He struggled not to flinch.
“Okay.” She scraped the cutting board as she turned back to the stove. “Have a nice time with Charlee.”
Miles fled the kitchen without a word, hating himself with every step.