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He rises from his chair, unfolding to his full height in the gathering dusk. The last sliver of sun catches the silver in his hair, turning it molten for just a moment before it disappears behind the hills.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he says. “This way.”

He leads me through the foyer, past the staircase, and toward a door I hadn’t noticed before. It’s set into the stone wall, older than the rest, hung on iron hinges gone orange with rust.

When he opens it, I see what’s behind: a narrow staircase, descending into black.

“After you,” Lukas says.

I stare into the darkness. The staircase disappears after the first few steps, swallowed whole by shadows so thick they might as well be solid.

“You want me to gofirst?” I squeak. “Into the murder basement?”

He sighs. “It’s not a ‘murder basement.’”

“That’s exactly what someone with a murder basement would say.”

His hand touches the small of my back and applies the gentlest pressure. “Go.”

I clench my teeth.Be brave, Rae,I tell myself. Then I go.

One foot finds the first step. Another. Another.

The flagstones are slippery and dipped in the center from centuries of use. I keep one hand on the cold wall for balance as we descend into outer space. Behind me, Lukas’s footsteps blanket mine, heavy and unhurried.

This is it,I think.This is how I die.

At least I had a good last meal.

The darkness presses against my eyes. I can’t see where I’m going. In fact, I can’t see anything at all except the faint outline of my own hand against the stone.

After a while, we reach the bottom. Or at least, what I assume is the bottom, because the wall falls away from my fingertips. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, overlooking an infinite abyss.

I’m so sorry, Gideon,I think to myself.I’m so sorry, Jillian. You’ll both think I’m an idiot for putting myself in this situation, and you’ll both be right. I hope the “I told you so’s” are satisfying.

I squeeze my eyes shut.Do it already.

Lukas stops one stair above. I feel the warm aura of his hand as he reaches for my throat. I’m waiting… waiting… waiting…

Then there’s a click. Light floods the space.

I blink, temporarily blinded. When my vision clears, I’m standing at the bottom of the staircase, very much alive, staring at a…

… Well, it’s not a murder basement.

As it turns out, it’s a wine cellar. That kinda seems obvious, in retrospect. I’m a little bit embarrassed.

Stone archways stretch into the distance, huddled over endless wooden racks holding thousands of bottles. The walls glisten with moisture, and the air is sharp with cold. Antique bulbs hang from corroded iron fixtures and cast pools of light that do nothing to dispel either the shadows or the cobwebs from the corners.

It’s beautiful. Hauntingly so.

“You thought I was going to kill you,” Lukas infers from behind me. His breath is warm against my ear.

“The thought did cross my mind,” I admit.

“In my own wine cellar?” He sounds offended. “I would never. The humidity of your rotting corpse would ruin the product.”

“You really need to work on your definition of ‘reassuring.’” I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees from what it was out on the veranda. “How old is this place?”