“Got your next hot date planned with that American? Gonna take you out for cheeseburgers and a milkshake?” he asked with a ridiculous American accent that had Daniel stifling a laugh. “What are you gonna do tonight? Take him around our countryside, and show him the gravesites of his ancestors so he can truly claim to be an Irishman? They all do that, don't they? Claim they're Irish even though their family left here generations ago?” He scoffed and shook his head.
“What I do after hours is none of your business,” she said, turning away from him. “Daniel,” his head jerked back toward her, “Boxes.”
Mouth open in surprise, he stared as she spun on her heal and marched out of the office, leaving the door open behind her.
“She's always been so spirited… and beautiful. Too young for me though,,” he said as he pressed a hand across his chest over his heart. A slow smile spread and he turned to face Daniel. “What's wrong, Dan?” Kilian asked, drawing his hand from his chest and moving closer to his brother.
“What happens if she finds out, Kilian? Last night was close. Too close. What if she finds out?”
“Then her father can handle it.”
14
Caitlin
Caitlin heldthe wooden crate against her body as she descended the wooden steps into the cellar. Even from the first uneven, creaking stair, she could make out a horrible must as it curled and wove around her in invisible strands.
Fighting against the impending bite of rancid air, Caitlin pressed on. Using the weight of the crate in her arms as an incentive to keep going, Caitlin slid her foot to the very edge of the first stair. She pointed her toe, moving the front of her boot against the slope of the hardwood boards and eased herself down onto the next step with careful precision.
The step groaned underneath the weight of her, and the crate as the putrid smell—a mixture of rainwater-soaked dirt and rotted vegetables—filled her nostrils. Instinctively, she cringed away from the smell, taking short breaths through her mouth to avoid inhaling the scent, but it only left a sour note in the back of her throat. Her bare hands—wrapped around the front of the crate—were the first to feel the cool burst of stale, basement air. She grimaced as the weight of the box impossibly doubled as she reached the bottom landing, even as a shiver worked its way up her spine.
She told herself that her anxiety over carrying things to the cellar alone had nothing to do with the irrational fear of child eating ghouls, and everything to do with the very real possibility of dropping this twenty-pound box onto her foot.
Her steps quickened. She fell into an easy rhythm, taking the stairs at a more comfortable pace now. All the while, she made sure to keep the box pressed firmly against the front of her stomach—she couldn’t hear anything inside of it, but as she bounced down the rest of the cellar stairs, she imagined bottles shaking together like leaves in a crisp wind. Nearly hopping down the last two stairs, Caitlin lowered the crate down on top of the first one she’d brought down—narrowly avoided dropping it on her own foot. As her arms and shoulders released the weight, she let out a sigh of relief.
Straightening her back into a long stretch, Caitlin tossed her hands over the top of her head and stretched, enjoying the sensation of muscles relaxing. Dropping her shoulders into a more casual stance, Caitlin reached her hands into her hair and began smoothing the stubborn, flyaway curls around her mess of bright orange, feeling a strange texture begin to clump against the tips of her fingers.
The sticky string-like material had matted into a large clump in her fingers by the time she brought it down to the front of her face—the texture subconsciously reminded her of melted cheese——her mouth dropped into a silent scream as she recognized it.
“Ugh!” Caitlin groaned in disgust, batting her spider web-covered hand in the air as if she’d badly burnt it. She stepped forward, out of the webbing, only to step into the crates she’d stacked. She stumbled, losing her balance as the cellar storage room threatened to come up around her. In the last moment before she met the cold stone that had been beneath her feet, Caitlin stuck her hands out behind her. Her eyes shut as she braced herself for the rough stone.
It never came.
She had braced her body for the unyielding strength of the floor, but the next sensation Caitlin felt was a soft body that cradled the top of her shoulders and head. Strong arms laced underneath her own.
“Woah, there,” a low voice gasped.
Caitlin didn’t register the warmth against her back until she opened her eyes. She was still in the dark cellar—still somewhere in between standing upright and on the floor—but there was a stability to the scene that confused her. Looking up, she made out the angular features of a familiar face, only it was upside down and etched with faint concern that didn’t suit it.
Daniel Kelly stared down at her—his blue eyes sharper than she remembered. They stood out against his pale skin even more in the darkness of the pub cellar; his jaw line was sharp and covered in short, dark stubble. She might have imagined it, but as his features smoothed out, he almost looked like he was relieved he’d caught her in time. Caitlin had definitely seen his mouth peak at one side though—fighting off the urge to smile.
“Thank you,” Caitlin said, gesturing to the space in between them, where he’d caught her. She was relieved to find keeping her voice even was easier than she’d anticipated given the strong beating of her heart. The thudding was getting so loud that she could hear it clearly; she’d completely forgotten about the strong, rotten scent of the cellar now. She inhaled, greedily sucking in strong pulls of the rank air. It did little to sooth the flipping in her stomach, the waves of the nausea biting at the soft tissues in her throat. She blamed it on the smell of old produce, but part of her was unconvinced and it told her, loudly, that it was Daniel’s presence that kept her glued to the floor.
Daniel nodded, waving away her gratitude with his hand. His mouth drooped into a nonchalant smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice lower than usual. He almost seemed embarrassed by the whole ordeal. “You should really be more careful down in here,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets as he took a look around the storeroom. “There’s stuff literally everywhere.” He laughed, bending at the knees to get a proper view of the bookcase her dad had stuffed full of science fiction and fantasy novels.
There was a prickle of anxiety in Caitlin’s chest as she watched him struggle to look in any direction except the one Caitlin was standing in. Coming to the conclusion that he hadn’t actually wanted to catch her and had only done so out of politeness, she stared at the dark-haired man with an astonished expression. He still hadn’t looked in her direction—instead taking the moment to give an old chair a generous amount of attention for the rickety, old thing that it was. “You’re right,” there was a dull tone to her voice that caught Daniel’s attention. His blue eyes pierced when he looked at her; she looked away before continuing on. “I should’ve dusted the entire space for spider webs before bringing the crates down here.”
The corner of Daniel’s mouth twitched again as he matched the sarcastic tone of her voice. “I’m glad you’re starting to see the consequences to falling behind on your cellar chores.” He had adopted a soulful, fatherly voice that made them both laugh. The laughter died away in the next second, leaving them in another heavy silence.
Daniel stepped closer, setting down a crate that he’d carried most of the way down the steps, “You know what I thought?” Daniel asked as she slid her hands into her pockets, confused by the awkwardness between them.
She made a noise of acknowledgement, only daring to look back up at him after he’d looked at her for another second longer. She kept her breath even as she took in the intense color of his eyes once more.
He continued, stifling a laugh that built in his throat. “When I heard you scream, I thought you might’ve run into Penny. You remember her?” He leaned up against the boxes now with his body facing Caitlin. She pretended not to notice.
“God, Dan, don’t give that ridiculous fictional creature a name?” Her voice was thick with accusation and it forced another laugh out of Daniel. “Sophie wasn’t the only person that was scared to come over after you told that story. Every girl I know heard about that story—about how she’d pull you down the stairs by your ankles, and peel flesh from bone.”
Though she told herself differently, there was a very real part of her that feared being alone in the cellar.
