“When I made my offer for you to join me in my search for Lourdes, it was a sincere one,” Papá said. “I had hoped you’d have seen through hercharms to discover the snake underneath. But you’ve stubbornly resisted the olive branch I offered, time and time again.”
“It would have been better if I believed you to be dead,” I whispered. “Why didn’t you stay that way?”
Papá caressed my cheek, but I jerked out of his reach. “Do you want to know my reason for having you stay away in Argentina?”
It wasn’t a question. I really ought not to give him the satisfaction, but I couldn’t help asking, “What was it?”
“It’s simple, Inez,” he whispered close to my ear. “I’ve built an empire, and I didn’t know if I could give you the keys to my kingdom.”
“That’s why you kept asking me to join you,” I said. “You were hoping to see… what, exactly? If I was corruptible?”
“I need an heir. Someone I could trust to help with my legacy.”
I shook my head, inching away from him. “I want nothing to do with you.”
“You might change your mind,” he said mildly. “After our conversation with your mother.” He turned in his seat, peering out the window. “Ah. I believe we’re here. Time to go underground, Inez.”
He opened the door and took the crook of my elbow in a firm grip and led me out and down onto the street. Dread built up inside me, brick by brick, as my father tugged me toward a nondescript well, big enough for one person to fit through. I took a closer look, and to my amazement, someone had carved the word Cerberus along the lip of the well.
Behind me, I sensed Mr. Graves’s looming presence. A glance over my shoulder confirmed him hovering close, carrying two lanterns. He handed one of them to my father.
Papá eyed my clothing. “I’m afraid you won’t be comfortable traversing the canals in your current dress.”
“As if you care about my comfort,” I snapped.
Mr. Graves gestured toward the gun in his holster. “She ought to go in first.”
Papá looked through the hole. “There seem to be steps carved into the stone. I’ll climb down first. Keep an eye on her. If you need to shoot, make sure she can still walk afterward.”
My jaw dropped as he disappeared below.
After a moment, Mr. Graves motioned for me to follow, the gun pointed at my face. I was confident that I would not still be able to walk if he were to pull that trigger. He lowered the lantern and, with his free hand, shoved me toward the entrance, my skirt tangling around my legs. With a sigh, I bent to grab the hem.
“Slowly,” he barked.
I gathered the fabric, and took my time straightening. Then I climbed up and over, my foot easily reaching the first step down into the hollowed-out world below. At the bottom, Papá helped me the rest of the way, and we silently waited in the dark as Mr. Graves brought down the lighting. We seemed to be standing on a raised platform, rectangular in shape.
By the time he made it to the floor, portions of the chamber were illuminated. The sound of rushing water drifted upward, and I gasped at the sight. It was as if I stood in a subterranean Gothic cathedral. We were on the upper level of three stories. Dozens of ancient columns, spaced equidistant from one another to form a grid, were linked by carved arches that framed vaulted ceilings at the top floor. It looked like a massive checkerboard, one on top of the other, with a column situated at every corner. The pillars were capped by ornately carved marble capitals in various architecture styles (Tuscan and Corinthian) featuring delicate leaves. There was no floor, but the top of the arches from the second and first levels provided a narrow path, the width of two feet, to allow passage. My fingers itched to draw the space; I’d never seen anything quite like it.
“Where to?” Papá asked.
Mr. Graves indicated to the left with one of his lanterns. “This way. The rest of the men are waiting for our arrival. Once we pass this section, there is a makeshift wooden platform that extends out to where we need to go.”
“And on what level will we find them?” Papá said, walking carefully forward.
“The bottom, right above the river water,” Mr. Graves said. “We’ll have to climb down at some point with a rope.”
I peered over the edge of the platform, the lanterns providing enoughlight to see the columns directly below us. Farther than that, it remained stubbornly pitch-black.
Pity I only just discovered a fear of heights.
Shuddering, I inched away on shaking knees. Papá stepped onto the walkway and nimbly crossed the first square. On either side was open air, divided by the next square shaped by the top of the arches from the network below. Once he reached the column on the other side, he had to step around the base and aim for the path on the opposite end. It was a careful dance. One wrong step, and gravity would reach her lethal hand to pull you down three stories. Mr. Graves indicated I ought to follow, but I quickly realized my skirt would make it difficult to navigate the narrow path.
To hell with propriety. I did not want to fall into the sewer.
I worked the buttons of my long skirt, but Mr. Graves let out a sharp warning. “Do not. Your father would not like you improperly dressed.”
“I might fall.”
