Moving through the darkened space required not thinking about how the walls seemed to breathe, or how his panda was freaking out right now. Cobwebs tickled his face as he ducked through another low archway, the silky strands catching in his hair like ghostly fingers trying to hold him back. Behind these walls, the mansion’s heating system groaned through ancient pipes, metal expanding and contracting in a rhythm that sounded too much like breathing. Dust motes danced in the thin beam from his phone, swirling in patterns that made his eyes water.
No treasure. No lost city. Just survival corridors and disappointment. Typical.
Left or right at this junction? Both passages looked identical in the weak light, narrow corridors that vanished into blackness beyond his phone’s reach. His panda chittered anxiously, wanting to curl into a ball and hide, but that wouldn’t get him out of this nightmare.
Every few feet, the passage branched off into more corridors, a labyrinth that probably connected every room in this nightmare mansion. Isaac had gotten lucky last time, finding an exit after only twenty minutes of wandering.
This time felt different. Wrong somehow, like the passages had rearranged themselves just to mess with him.
Right felt correct, though he couldn’t remember why. Maybe because right had worked last time or maybe because his internal compass was completely scrambled from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Wood creaked somewhere above him, probably just the old mansion settling, but his heart rate spiked anyway. Every sound could be Marcus coming to check on him, could be the moment his escape attempt ended before it really began.
Through the walls came a muffled crash, followed by Whichello’s voice cutting through the mansion’s bones like ice through flesh. “What do you mean he’s gone?” Each word carried that particular tone that made grown men apologize for existing. “The room was locked from the outside, Marcus. Would you care to explain how a hundred-and-thirty-pound shifter managed to vanish from a locked room under your watch?”
Someone’s response was too quiet to make out, but the fear in it carried through the walls just fine.
“Find him.” Whichello’s voice had dropped to a dangerous register that meant someone was about to discover exactly how creative demons could get with punishment. “Check every room, every closet, every possible hiding place. He knows about the passages.”
Oh, fantastic. So much for having a secret advantage. Isaac’s fingers tightened around his phone as he quickened his pace, trying to put distance between himself and wherever Whichello was currently terrifying his staff.
Another junction ahead, this one branching into three possible directions. The passage straight ahead sloped downward, probably leading to the basement levels where bad decisions went to ferment. Left curved away into darkness. Right held a slight breeze.
A breeze meant potential exits. Isaac turned right, ducking under another support beam that hung lower than the others. His phone battery sat at sixty percent, which seemed like a lot until you considered he might be wandering around in here until it died and left him in complete darkness with whatever else lived in these walls.
Sold for fifty thousand.
The memory came out of nowhere, making Isaac stumble slightly. Although the words continued to echo in his mind, his brain rejected what had happened. How his own father had betrayed him. The auction had paid off Gilbert’s gambling debt and had ruined Isaac’s life.
Like it was stellar to begin with.
The only bright spot had been his best friend, Danny.
Isaac’s head snapped around.
Footsteps echoed through the passageway, too close to be coming from the main house. Someone had entered the servant corridors behind him, maybe two passages over, their movement confident like they knew exactly where these tunnels led.
Obviously, they knew. This was Whichello’s house, and Isaac had been an idiot to think the same escape route would work twice.
Panic tried to claw its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down. Panicking meant making mistakes, meant choosing the wrong turn or making too much noise. His panda wanted to bolt, to run full speed through the darkness, but Isaac couldn’t afford that kind of recklessness.
Another turn, this one forced by a dead end that appeared out of nowhere. The passage split again immediately after, and he chose left on instinct, only to realize the floor had started sloping downward when he’d specifically been trying to go up.
A heavy tension coiled in his stomach, tightening with every second.
Somewhere behind him, those footsteps had grown closer. Not running, just walking with the steady pace of someone who knew their prey had nowhere to go.
Isaac’s breathing sounded too loud in the confined space. Each breath felt stolen, too shallow and too fast. He tried breathing through his nose, but the air tasted sour, sharp and acrid like the aftermath of burned wires. His hand covered his mouth and nose, trying to muffle the sound while still getting enough air to keep moving.
Moving faster now, Isaac took the middle path, because why not? His luck couldn’t get any worse. The ceiling dropped low enough that he had to duck, and something sticky brushed against his hair. He absolutely was not going to think about what that might be. Nope. Not even a little bit.
The passage opened into a small junction where four corridors met, and Isaac had no idea which way he’d come from anymore. Everything looked the same in the phone’s light, just wooden walls and dust and cobwebs that could have been strung yesterday or a century ago.
Soft footsteps approached from his left, so he went right, moving as quickly as he dared without making noise. His shoulder brushed against the wall, dislodging years of dust that fell like snow in the light. The passage curved then curved again, and suddenly he had no idea if he was heading toward the front of the mansion or deeper into its maze-like interior.
“Going somewhere, little panda?” Whichello’s voice drifted through the passage. Soft as silk. Twice as dangerous.
How was the demon’s voice coming from everywhere at once? Isaac spun, phone light swinging wildly, catching glimpses of wooden walls and his own terrified reflection in a broken mirror he hadn’t noticed before. The passages seemed to breathe around him, expanding and contracting like they were alive.
