Chapter 32
Where are they?
I’m still waiting in the alcove for Luci and André. It feels like they’ve been gone forever, but I’m not sure if five minutes have passed or fifteen. Time is shifty down here in the dark. And minute by minute, I grow more claustrophobic. I can almost feel the weight of the earth above my head.
Sixty to eighty feet. That’s how deep some of the catacombs run. A possible eight stories of stone between me and the fresh night air.
I have no idea what time it is, not with my phone still upstairs in my purse. When André and I made a mad dash from the salon, I left my clutch sitting on the table. Inside, my phone and its charged battery. With a clock. And a flashlight.
I peer up at the light in the tunnel, shedding weak illumination the color of watery mustard.
Maybe I can find my way back. I know which tunnel we last exited, and we only took three turns to get here. Or was it four?
As I stare down the dim shaft, a terrible thought occurs to me.
What if Luci and André got caught?
Have they been taken somewhere by the monsters of the game? Are they back upstairs in the mansion? Have they forgotten about me?
No. Of course not. I rub my chest and take a breath.
Stay calm. Don’t panic. One breath in.
And back out.
Hand still on my chest, I focus on the rise and fall as I breathe. No one’s forgotten me. I just have to stay put. Wait here like Luci—
A scream echoes through the tunnels, and my skin tightens on my scalp. Who was that?
Easing out of the small recess, I take a few steps back the way we came, listening, straining to hear voices.
Low rumbles carry to my ears. Maybe a man’s voice? I wait to hear more, but the passage falls quiet again.
I debate whether to keep creeping forward or stay where I am. I don’t know what happens when a victim is caught, but it can’t be worse than being down here.
My mind is muddled, and I can’t think straight. The cold underground sobered me up, but the effects of apple brandy remain, clouding my thoughts like cotton in my head.
“Luci? André?” My voice is a dull echo.
I walk forward, stopping only when I come to a branch in the passageway. We came from the left. I’m positive we did.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I cry out louder this time, hoping someone—anyone—will call back.
At this point, I don’t care if I’m caught. I want to be caught. Especially if that’s a one-way ticket back up to the house and other people. Living people.
Keeping my distance from the wall of bones, I study the curve of the tunnel. A brass plaque hangs up ahead. I remember passing it earlier.
Confident I’m headed back to the elevator, I rush down the tunnel to the next junction. It’s a three-way split, the one where Luci paused to think about where she was going.
But staring into each of the shafts, I can’t tell which one to take. This area feels colder, damper, the foul scent of dust and mildew giving me a headache.
“Hello?”
I listen, but my own voice is all I hear.
Panic builds in my chest again, a tightening of my lungs that spreads to my throat. I swallow and press a hand to my heart.
I can’t get lost down here. These tunnels go on for miles.
Fighting the urge to run blindly, I trail my fingers along the wall and try to think what to do. Maintaining contact with the stone, I travel to the next area where the route diverges and take the first tunnel to the right.
I come upon a design made out of long bones, a circle of skulls creating a pattern in the middle. None of this feels familiar. I would remember this. Wouldn’t I?
The longer I’m down here, the less certain I am of anything.
I’m about to turn around and go back when I see a door farther down. The weight in my chest lifts.
A door means a room, possibly access to stairs. An exit. If there are steps, I don’t know where they’ll take me. But as long as I come out above ground, I’ll be happy.
Taking my hand off the wall, I cross the shaft and make my way to the door. The first thing I notice is the color. At one time, the door was painted red, but time has altered the color. The wood has dried, and the paint has peeled.
But when I draw close enough to look squarely at the front, my stomach drops, falling down to the dirt and gravel floor.
A symbol is carved into the wood. A symbol I’ve come to recognize. A large Gothic-style V with a snake in its center.
Why is this here? Grégoire Marteau valued this emblem, enough to wear it on his clothing and engrave it on his tomb.
Grégoire Marteau.
A man who liked drinking blood.
The handle of the door is old and rusted, but I find myself reaching for the lever. The metal is rough against my palm, the decay of time scratching my skin.
I press down and push.
But the door is locked.
Air rushes from my lungs, a release of tension. As much as I need to know what’s behind this door, I’m not sure I’m prepared. Not sure I can handle the shock of whatever a sick, disturbed man might keep hidden down here.
Shaken and afraid, I turn and walk swiftly toward the niche where Luci left me. She’ll come back for me. Noah will come back for me.
Someone will. They have to.
But what if they don’t?
I come to the three-way split and look in each direction, uncertainty making me light-headed.
Then the lights go off.
I cry out in the dark, the sound raw and primal, curdled by fear.
Finding the wall, I lean against it, trying to anchor myself in the sea of black. My breaths come too rapidly, and I start to feel dizzy. Pressing my back to the wall, I slide down, squatting with my hands on my face.
My calm unravels and my sanity frays. I need to hear my mother’s voice. I need her to tell me what to do, even if her words are only a memory.
But I can’t hear her through the static in my head.
I’m on the verge of crying when male laughter floats in the air.
I shoot to my feet. “André!”
No one answers, but scuffling sounds ricochet in the dark. Footsteps on the gravel.
Not caring who I find, I slink along the wall, straining to follow the sounds. The only sign of life in the pitch black.
Another laugh, female this time. Coming from my left.
“Please, turn on the lights. I’m ready to go back up.” My voice is a rasp, barely audible over the roar in my ears. My heart, pulsing hard enough to rattle my veins.
More low sounds from ahead.
A growl, then a grunt, followed by whimpering.
“Who’s there?”
The lights come on, shockingly bright after the deep, pure darkness.
Ric stands in the tunnel, staring at me. His red-haired date leans on the wall. No, she’s held there by him, a black band wrapped around her throat.
I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing until she pulls at his arm. “More,” she whines. “Squeeze harder.”
But Ric ignores her, his unfeeling eyes focused on me. A predator spotting its prey.
“Was that you crying in the dark, Brooke?” He moves away from the woman and steps toward me. “Did you get lost, little lamb?”
I blink as my eyes adjust, taking in the space behind him. I know that wall, the depression in the stone. The elevator is right behind him.
“Yes,” I say, working up a watery smile. I can be sweet to Ric if it will get me out of this dank, dark hell.
“Don’t be scared,” he says, taking another step in my direction. “We were just getting started.”
“I’m on my way up,” I say with a light laugh. “I’ll just go and give you some privacy.”
Ric is close enough now that I have to step around him. But when I try, he blocks my way. “Three is always more fun,” he says, sliding his hand beneath my jaw and into the hollow of my collarbone.
My skin crawls beneath his touch, and I lean away.
“Come on, now.” He skims his eyes down my body then back to my face. “I know you didn’t wear this dress for Noah.”
Before I can speak, he snakes an arm around my waist, jerking me hard against his chest.
“No.” I slam my palms against his shoulder and push back. “Don’t touch me. I want to leave.”
His upper lip curls but he doesn’t release me. “Don’t. Stop. Wait.” His fingers dig into my hip. Forceful. Painful. “Women like you know exactly what you’re doing. What you’re asking for.”
He presses close, his warm breath on my face when he speaks. “Then, when they get it, they bitch and moan and lie about what happened.”
Still holding me, he slides a hand down my side, then rubs a circle on my stomach, on the red hourglass. “This costume is perfect for a woman like you. Luring men in, only to strike after you get what you want.”
He leans in and licks my cheek, his hoarse whisper in my ear. “Like your friend in Hollywood.”
Shock travels through my body, a surge of disgust. He knows who I am. He’s heard the story. And he’s using my trauma like a knife.
Worse. He’s using Mackenzie.
“Let me go,” I say, but my voice is timid.
“I bet she fucked that man.” Ric reaches around, his hands fumbling at my lower back, searching for the zipper. “I bet you fucked him, too.”
I close my eyes, traveling back in time. To another party, another dark space.
And another man who thought he could take whatever he wanted.
The flashback stabs my brain, slicing through the freeze and signaling the fight. “Stop.” A rush of adrenaline gives me strength.
“Stop!” Rearing back my arm, I drive a fist into his throat. He stumbles back, coughing and cursing.
Seizing my chance, I rush past him, lunging for the elevator where I hit the call button again and again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Ric. He stands straight, rubbing his throat. “Bitch,” he rasps, striding towards me.
He’s a few short steps away when the door opens, and I fall inside. Crushing into the corner, I punch the top button and face the door, waiting for Ric to appear, to reach in and grab me again.
But seconds pass and he never does.
The door slides shut with a hiss.
In a trance, I stare wide-eyed at the panel on the wall. The numbers tick off as the elevator climbs. Not fast enough. Finally, I reach the top and spill into the hallway near the kitchen.
Instead of going back to the blue salon, I turn toward the front of the mansion, running down the hall until I know where I am. Another turn, and I see the foyer. A group of monsters stand in a cluster.
Ignoring them, I rush to the front doors, focused only on escape. Escape from the tunnels, from Ric, from this cruel world of wealth and its twisted rules.
“Brooke.”
Noah’s voice. But I don’t stop to answer.
I’m at the doors, fling one side open before I race into the night.
Noah calls my name again, but I keep going.
I don’t stop, I don’t slow down, and I don’t look back.