Click.
The door gave way and creaked open an inch, like it was surprised too.
“She’s in,” I said quietly as a gust of spooky, eerie wind blew gently against my face.
I was staring into utter darkness.
“Excellent. Please remind your character to wear gloves, should this not be her fictional basement.”
“She’s breaking into a basement based on a bird’s clue,” I said. “I think we passed the point of caring.”
“Very well. But if anything inside that basement is structurally unsound, I advise your character to turn around and call for help. Would you like me to accompany you through the basement?”
“No, thanks. I’ll take the blame.”
“Of course you will. I’m a language model. I can’t go to jail.”
“Understood. Thanks, Ava. Take care.”
I closed the app.
Flashlight in one hand, knife in the other, I aimed the beam down the steps. They looked just as steep and sketchy as they had last time.
My heart was pounding wildly—the kind of wild that made your hands sweat and your legs feel light. I grabbed the railing with one hand and stepped forward.
“Hello?” I called out. The wood creaked under my foot. “Whoever’s down there, I’m here to help.”
Help with what? I didn’t even know if the woman was real. Didn’t know who she was. Or if this was just another hallucination I’d be explaining later when someone found me wandering around with a knife and a flashlight like a lunatic.
Then it hit me.
Why the knife?
I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d just grabbed it, like it was the obvious thing to do.
Now the important question: Had I brought it to protect myself from that woman?
Or from the person who’d put her down there?
Chapter 17
The stairs stretched longer than any basement stairs I’d ever seen. Too long. And clean. Unnervingly clean. No thick dust blanketing the treads, no spider webs or grime clinging to the railing. It looked like someone had wiped it all down recently, leaving not a smudge in sight.
Halfway down, a wooden step cracked beneath me with a loud snap. I flinched and threw myself toward the railing, catching my balance just in time but almost cutting my hand with the knife. The flashlight flew from my grip, bounced twice, and rolled all the way to the bottom. Its beam landed sideways on a dark stone wall, casting the basement in a weird, angled glow.
It was a good thing I hadn’t put my full weight on that step. I’d been creeping cautiously along the edge, hugging the wall. That had probably saved me from tumbling straight down. But still, Hudson and Daniel hadn’t been kidding when they’d made these stairs sound like death traps. No wonder they locked the door and warned people to stay out.
That made me wonder: what was I doing here? Maybe I was overthinking it, and there was nothing suspicious about this place. It was just an old basement. That’s all.
I hurried down the remaining steps. My shoes tapped quickly against the wooden surface.
The basement opened into a broad space. Even in the limited light, I could see several tunnels stretching out in different directions. It was as if the entire house sat on top of an underground maze.
When I bent down to grab the flashlight, I noticed its beam had landed on a light switch. Weird place for one, but I went straight to it and flipped it, not expecting anything.
But it worked.
As if waiting for the command, a string of bare bulbs flickered to life. They were strung along the wall of the largest tunnel. A thick red electrical cord connected each light. The setup looked improvised, temporary. The lights buzzed faintly, emitting a sickly, industrial glow, like something from a mine shaft.
