Chapter 7 #2
“I’ll bring you something to eat when I return in”—he glanced at his watch—“two hours.”
“Thanks,” she said again, sinking into the pillows.
She thought about getting up, showering, and getting dressed, but then the buzzing started in her head again and she closed her eyes until the pain let up a little.
The pain had ebbed to a dull pressure behind her eyes, like something sleeping but still there, lurking. She didn’t fight the fatigue. Instead, she allowed herself to sink deeper under the covers, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets and the faint trace of cedarwood that Nate had left behind.
When she opened her eyes again, an hour had passed.
Her limbs felt heavy, but the sharp edge of the implant’s buzzing had completely faded. She moved slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and padding toward the bathroom. The mirror showed someone pale, tired, and not quite herself, but not as bad as she had feared.
She showered under warm water until her muscles loosened, the steady pressure soothing her body and her nerves. She found a couple of new bruises on her knees and elbows, no doubt from falling on the tile floor.
By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she was more awake, more herself.
She dressed in soft leggings and a hoodie, adequate attire for work or home and pulled her long hair into a loose braid. She was just putting on a pair of thick socks when she heard the knock at the front door.
She headed down the stairs and opened the door. Nate was standing there, holding a cardboard drink tray and a brown paper bag in one hand, a small white bakery box in the other.
“Well, someone looks more alive,” he said, smiling gently.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replied, opening the door wider. “But I’m upright. For now.”
“Good enough for me.” He stepped inside, toeing off his boots. “I come bearing gifts.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where he unpacked the food onto the table.
“Breakfast sandwich, egg and cheddar. One with bacon, one without, I wasn’t sure. And donuts, the good kind. An apple fritter the size of your head. Coffee. Oh, and…” He held up a bottle from his jacket pocket like it was treasure. “Extra-strength Tylenol.”
Faye let out a small laugh, warmth blooming behind her ribs. “You’re basically a hero.”
He gave her a crooked smile and set everything down. “Nah. Heroes wear capes. I just know where the bakery keeps the good stuff.”
For a few minutes, he watched her eat, then he started talking about work, and she let herself enjoy the moment—the food, the company, the steady presence of someone who, for some reason, made her feel safe.
“Thanks,” she said softly, halfway through her sandwich. “For everything.”
His gaze met hers across the table. “Anytime. Really. How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” she said after a second of assessing herself. Her head was no longer buzzing, and she felt energized. “The sugar helped, I suppose.” She smiled.
Nate gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Still, I want you take the rest of the day to rest. Clover and I can handle the shop.”
She chuckled. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to upset my boss during my first week.”
“I think your boss was more upset when he found you on the bathroom floor.” His eyes ran over her face again, and he must have been okay with what he saw since he stood and took his now-empty coffee cup to the trash. “Promise me you won’t push yourself too hard?”
“I promise.” She meant it, mostly.
He walked to the door, pausing as he opened it. “Text me if you need anything, okay? I’m going to check on the horses and get back to work.”
“I will.”
“It’s going to rain soon,” he said at the doorway, and then he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.
For a moment, she just sat there, sipping her coffee, the scent of sugar and cinnamon still lingering in the air as the house settled into stillness.
She’d never been one to sit idly by when bored. Now that she was feeling better, she knew she was going to be restless. Her eyes slowly drifted to the staircase as a thought played in her head. Her mind zeroed in on her closet.
She’d promised to take it easy. But the pull of that hidden passage was stronger than ever. And now—with the house quiet as the clouds outside started to let loose soft rain drops—it didn’t seem quite so scary. Just… unknown.
She stood, tucked her cell phone into the pocket on the side of her yoga pants, and grabbed the flashlight that she’d bought a few days before. She slipped on the tennis shoes she kept by the front door and headed upstairs.
She pushed the closet door open and stepped inside. Her clothes hung neatly to one side, shoes lined up along the baseboard. And there, behind everything, the faint outline of the hidden panel.
She pushed on the wood, releasing the small latch behind. The panel creaked open, revealing the narrow, gaping dark of the hidden passage.
She swallowed, flicked on the flashlight, and stepped through the opening.
The beam of light cut through layers of dust and cobwebs, which she avoided as if they were the plague.
The air was damp and a few degrees cooler than her room.
The stone walls narrowed quickly to where she had to walk sideways.
She figured that she was walking between her bedroom and the guest room next door.
A few feet in, she came to a smaller opening with a very narrow iron spiral staircase that dropped away into the dark space below. She must be directly beside the lighthouse but not inside its structure at this point.
Looking down, she realized it went down several floors, which meant the staircase went through the main level of the house. Was there an access point there as well?
She hesitated at the top step, shining the light all the way down. The metal was old and rusted, the kind of rust that flakes at the edges. One cautious foot at a time, she descended, gripping the center railing tightly.
At the first landing, she looked around for a doorway and found one after almost a minute of looking. She had to use her foot to kick at a large wall of spiderwebs to find it. When she pushed on the opening, she was surprised to find herself standing in her brother’s office.
The opening was behind his built-in bookcases on the same wall as his fireplace. She wanted to shut the opening and figure out how it worked from this side but decided against it and stepped back into the passage to head further down.
The deeper she went, the cooler and damper it became. The sound of her own breath echoed faintly as the flashlight cast eerie, uneven shadows along the curved stone walls.
At the bottom of the staircase, the tunnel leveled out and opened up slightly.
She moved slowly. The walls were very rough stone, as if they hadn’t been carved out by humans but instead had been carved by water decades—maybe centuries—ago.
Her shoes scuffed against the uneven ground, and she had to catch herself more than once to keep from tripping.
After walking several winding feet past several narrow shoots from the main path, the space opened into a small cave-like room. Her light swept over the curved stone ceiling, catching strange mineral streaks along the walls, maybe salt or quartz.
She stepped into the room completely and did a full circle, her flashlight hitting every inch of the space.
Was it a dead end?
A sheer stone wall rose in front of her. There was no exit or secret passage that she could find. Just solid rock.
She frowned and moved the flashlight beam across the walls once more, looking for cracks, seams, anything that might suggest another door or panel. But there was nothing, only a large rock face.
It was just an empty cave.
Her implant started to buzz faintly again—just a tickle at the edge of her skull—but enough to make her flinch.
She had probably pushed herself too much. What she needed was to head back upstairs, shower the cobwebs off, and take another nap.
She turned slowly in the small space, her light dancing over the rough walls. There was something about the air here—heavy, still, a little metallic. And cold. She hugged her arms around herself and backed toward the staircase.
She’d come back. Maybe with Nate. Maybe with better equipment.
Right now, she’d had enough mystery for one day. She took several photos on her phone of the passageway, the staircase, and of herself smiling and sticking out her tongue at the bottom of the stairs.
When she started the long, careful climb back up into the house, avoiding more cobwebs, her mind filled with questions.
Why had this passage been hidden?
Who had taken great pains to hide it?
And did anyone else know it was here?