Chapter 21
Gabriel led them downstairs towards the ballroom, taking a hard right into an open kitchen.
Unlike Miles’s, there wasn’t a battered table crammed in the corner—there must be a cavernous dining room around here somewhere—but a massive island with four metal stools squatted in the center.
He’d never seen so much counter space in his life, gray-streaked marble-top cabinets painted a shade of blue so dark they were almost black, gobbling up the light.
It was immaculate, the appliances all gleaming stainless steel, no knickknacks or plants on the windowsills, pots and pans hanging neatly on the wall over the stove.
It looked like a stage kitchen.
“Fancy,” Charlee deadpanned.
Bram popped his head out from behind the island, eyes bright with curiosity. “Hello,” he greeted Miles. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”
“What are you doing on the floor?” Gabriel helped him to his feet, brushing down his burgundy sweater.
“Balthazar saw a spider.” The black cat appeared with a twitch of his long tail, weaving around Bram’s legs. “We were trying to find it so we could take it outside.”
Miles shuddered, scanning the floor.
“Hey, kid.” Charlee gave him a wave. “I’m Charlee, Miles’s cousin.”
Just as he had with Miles, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Bramwell Hawthorne. You can call me Bram if you’d like.”
Charlee shook it. “Nice to meet you. Cool cat.”
Bram beamed at her, and Miles could practically see her melt. Apparently her one-Hawthorne-only rule didn’t apply to cute little brothers.
“We’re going down into the wine cellar to look for a hidden door,” Gabriel told Bram. “Have you seen one?”
“No. But that’s where I found Balthazar, maybe he came through it.”
Miles shot Gabriel a questioning look.
“The wretched beast appeared without warning one day.” Gabriel ignored Bram’s indignant protest. “It must’ve snuck in and found its way down there.”
A weird cat for a weird house. How fitting.
“Or he came through a secret door.” Miles winked at Bram.
“Balthazar and I can help you look,” he offered. “He’s good at fitting into small spaces, and he always checks the dark corners for me.”
The cat’s chest puffed up, like he understood he was being praised.
“I suppose you two can tag along,” Gabriel relented. “More help won’t hurt.”
There was a plain door on the other side of the kitchen, the knob turning easily beneath Gabriel’s touch. Wooden steps descended into darkness, making Miles shiver.
“What’s the chance we’re going to get trapped in this creepy basement and the one lightbulb is going to mysteriously go out?”
Gabriel smirked. “Zero.” He reached over to click a switch, light after light turning on to illuminate every step down and the room waiting at the bottom.
Charlee stifled a laugh.
“How was I supposed to know the one place in your haunted mansion that doesn’t have spooky vibes is the basement?”
“It’s a wine cellar,” Gabriel corrected, descending the stairs.
“You don’t have to be scared,” Bram told Miles evenly. “Balthazar wouldn’t let us go anywhere dangerous.”
“Good to know the cat has my back,” Miles muttered.
The wine cellar ended up being exactly that—shelves stacked from floor to ceiling with bottles, massive barrels lining one bricked wall.
The room was cooler than upstairs, and Miles watched himself shiver in one of the many mirrors mounted over a polished wooden bar. As Gabriel had said, there was no door.
“Any ideas about sixty-three?” Miles inquired hopefully.
“The sixty-third brick is a secret lever that moves one of these walls?” Charlee suggested. “Or the sixty-third bottle?”
“That seems a bit farfetched,” Gabriel scoffed.
Miles snorted. “Are you forgetting about the other secret doorway we found? Face it, your family has a flair for the dramatic.”
Gabriel looked ready to protest—but he sighed in defeat. “Perhaps it’s a bottle with a year ending in sixty-three on it.”
They tried every possible combination they could think of, to no avail.
The biggest issue was that to count, they needed a starting spot, and no one could agree on which was most likely.
The shelf farthest to the left, or the first one upon entering the cellar.
The brick wall straight ahead from the stairs, or the one beside the bar.
Tired of prodding at bricks, tugging on bottles, and looking for hidden hinges, Bram and Balthazar eventually retreated to the kitchen for snacks.
“I’m starting to suspect this might be pointless,” Gabriel grumbled, watching Charlee slide wine bottles in and out of their cubbies one by one. She’d painstakingly worked her way through two whole rows already, swearing into the empty air.
“You know, we’ve been ignoring a very likely possibility…
” Miles hauled himself up from where he was peeking under a shelf with an old-man groan.
He couldn’t remember what it felt like to not ache all over.
“What if I’m wrong? The tunnel entrance at the old house might be the only one, and Florence collapsed it behind her to trap Jocelyn there forever.
We might be looking for something that doesn’t exist.”
Gabriel swiped a hand across his forehead. “Then I suppose we’ll need to acquire shovels.”
The only thing that sounded worse than crawling around the cold wine cellar searching for hidden switches was digging out a collapsed tunnel in the dark.
“There has to be a door.” Charlee yanked another bottle free of its slot. “Why else would Felicity have the key and—”
Something knocked, wood groaned, and with a low rasp, the wine rack and all the bricks behind it swung out in one piece, revealing a sturdy wooden door set into a concrete wall.
The bottle Charlee was holding slipped from her hands and shattered against the floor. Glass exploded, a wave of wine washing over the toes of Miles’s shoes. “Shit! Sorry.”
Gabriel didn’t give the mess a second glance. “How did you do that?”
“I have no idea.”
Miles swung the shelf inward to study the racks, the spot where the now-broken bottle had come from. “Sixty-three,” he muttered. “Six bottles over, three rows down.”
Charlee threw her hands in the air. “Of fucking course.”
The key slotted easily into the lock, a dull click echoing through the room. Before Gabriel could reach for the knob, the door swung open with a creak that made all the hair stand to attention on the back of Miles’s neck.
There was no switch, no industrial-strength lights to illuminate their way this time. Darkness seemed to seep from the doorway, too thick to peer through, a rich, earthy smell rising from whatever lay beyond.
Miles could guess what: dirt, rocks, a low ceiling waiting to collapse right on top of their stupid heads, and probably another shadow monster that wanted to eat him. Hell, why not two this time?
“Is this the part where we argue over who stays behind?” Gabriel asked dryly.
Miles bit his lip. Either Gabriel had heard his thoughts, or they were on the same page. “I guess that depends on how open you are to being convinced.”
“Not even remotely. You’re welcome to give whatever drawn-out and painfully noble speech you’ve constructed, but fair warning—it’s not going to work. And I’ve come to terms with the fact that nothing I say will convince you either.”
Miles was still tempted to try and conjure up the magical words that would work. To lock Gabriel up until this was all over. Play dirty and clue Edmund in so he’d help.
But his promise—in the cemetery, and when he’d hunted Gabriel down at Sage and Starlight—was that they were in this together. No matter how tough things got.
“This is touching, but we don’t have all day,” Charlee butted in. “Are we doing this or not?”
“We are,” Miles stated. “But we stick together. And if we find Jocelyn’s tomb, no one goes in alone or does anything stupid. Okay?”
All they could do at this point was hope that knowing what was coming would give them an edge. If they ran into Felicity, Miles was throwing Gabriel over his shoulder and hauling ass out of there.
He stepped through the doorway.
A crimson glow flared to life around him, light racing up the walls. Miles yelped, whirling to see a symbol flash above the doorway.
“Don’t!” The barked word halted Gabriel mid-step, inches from the threshold.
“What is it?” Charlee demanded. A tremor ran down her body like she wanted to charge in after him.
Miles got his phone flashlight out, standing on his tiptoes to study the jagged symbol carved into the dark stone.
It looked like an eye pierced by an arrow, with four swirls to the east, west, south, and north.
Atop the point of the arrow was a crescent moon curved around what looked like a backward S.
He’d seen a similar one in his own house. A warding sigil.
On either side of the doorway hung two identical bundles—sticks with spiky yellow flowers and a red center, and long stems topped with clusters of small white buds.
Witch hazel and anise, two of the most powerful protection herbs.
Tucked into their twine wrappings were chunks of amethyst and smoky quartz.
“There’s a serious ward here,” Miles told Gabriel and Charlee. He reached towards them and his hand hit an invisible wall, cool and firm against his skin. He strained, but it didn’t budge, the sigil pulsing red.
Gabriel watched, his eyes narrowed. “How do wards work?”
“It’s a protective measure, like a barricade. We have a few around the house to help keep out spirits. I’ve never seen one that works on physical things before.”
“What does that mean?”
Miles tried to keep his voice light. “It means I’d better hope this tunnel leads to an exit because I’m stuck on this side. It won’t let me through.”
A low curse exploded out of Charlee.
“Can’t you simply break the ward?” Gabriel questioned. “Or undo it?”