The floor in the cellar was cold and rough. I didn’t like the way it felt on my bare feet, but I didn’t have time to return to my room for shoes. I didn’t know how long my father and the woman would be in his special place, and I wanted to look.
I wanted to see.
Just inside the cellar door, a flashlight hung on the wall. I took it and ran across the room. Halfway down, I turned between a set of wine racks.
A door blended into the dark wall. Another secret passage, one the servants never used. One that would take me to my father without anyone hearing, seeing, or knowing I was there.
The handle was an iron ring, so I grabbed it and pulled. The door opened with a creak, a low, scary sound. It carried down the stairwell on the other side.
I took a hesitant step. Those stairs were old, older than the house and carved from stone. With one hand on the wall to steady myself, I followed the winding stairs down into the earth.
The air grew colder, a damp chill settling on my skin and raising bumps on my arms. But I was determined.
I remembered how my father stared at the woman, the strange expression on his face. The look in his eyes bothered me, though I couldn’t say why.
It took me several minutes to get to the bottom. So many steps. Much slower than the little elevator my father and the woman used. But at least that way, I wouldn’t be caught.
By the time I reached the last step, the soles of my feet burned from cold. I opened the door there and stepped into a passageway. The ground was dirt and pebbles, wet enough to stick to my feet.
I stood frozen, listening as I looked both ways. I’d never been down here alone before. I wasn’t allowed.
The catacombs could be dangerous.
But I had an idea where my father had gone. To his special room.
The lights were on in the tunnels, but I still held the flashlight. Following the curving path, I made my way to a particular tunnel. The room was there, behind a strange door.
A door that was always locked.
After a few turns, I came to the tunnel. I stopped walking and turned off the flashlight.
The door was right in front of me, but I was suddenly too afraid to go any farther.
What if my father caught me? What would he do? I’d broken rules before, but never anything like this.
In the yellow glow from the tunnel lights, I crept a little closer to the door.
A low murmur stopped me in my tracks.
My father’s voice.
He sounded stern, the way he talked to my mother when she displeased him.
I held my arms to my stomach, so afraid I thought I would wet my pants.
My father spoke again, louder this time, but his words were muffled by the wooden door.
I took a step back, my heart fluttering in my chest. I didn’t want to be there anymore.
Another step. One more. Only a little bit more, and I would turn the corner. Breathing loud, I stared at the door.
And then the woman screamed.
20
Someone hovers at the foot of my bed.
Tall. Silent. Staring.
