Page 151 of Sinister

This thought has been preying on me for months now, so it’s even more of a relief to say the words out loud to the father of my child.

“I know we’re young,” Sin replies in a firm voice, “but I know that as long as I’m with you, I can do anything. So don’t you worry, Petra—” he pats my nose affectionately— “we’ll figure it out together.”

“Really? Two young lovers, united against the world?” I respond in a wry tone.

“See, you’re already sounding like your old self!” Sin exclaims in a grand voice. “Confession is good for the soul, isn’t it, Petra?”

And as we melt into each other’s arms for the second time today, I’m much too content to contest him on that point.

45

PETRA

May 1896

I open my eyes and see nothing but darkness around me, thick and suffocating.

Panic flutters in my chest as I grope blindly around, my hands meeting rough, dry stone. I’m somewhere—but where? I have no idea.

The air smells old, like dust and time, and with no light to guide me, I must rely on scent and touch alone.

I continue to move, inching forward through the void, hands pressed to the walls in search of an exit. The longer I remain in this darkness, the more certain I become that I’ve been trapped, sealed inside some hellish pocket of existence meant to rot me away forever.

But just as I begin to lose hope, I spot it: a faint glimmer of light. Instinct takes over, and I rush toward it.

To my relief, I stumble into a well-lit corridor shaped like a tunnel. Its smooth structure immediately reminds me of the underground passages beneath St. Anselm Hall, though there are differences. Most noticeably, this place is lit by electricity, not candles.

How is that possible?

I glance around. The lighting is soft, even elegant, casting no shadows. Along the corridor are several closed doors, lined up like choices in a dream.

My heart sinks.

Am I trapped in some surreal maze? A nightmare without end?

I step forward and position myself in the center of the hallway, turning in place to study the doors. Letting my intuition guide me, I choose the one on the far right and open it. It leads to another door, and another after that.

I push each open cautiously, expecting endless repetition—more doors, more uncertainty.

But the third door surprises me.

I step inside what looks like the foyer of a lavish underground apartment.

My eyes widen.

The space is expansive, with elegant drawing room furniture arranged tastefully in the center, and tall bookshelves built into the walls.

It’s breathtaking . . . and unsettling.

How could something like this exist beneath the earth?

“Ah. There you are.” The voice cuts through my thoughts, making me start. I turn quickly—and there he is.

Standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

Sin.

“I was worried for a moment,” he says.