He was far too handsome for someone this annoying.
I blinked, locking away all the emotions that thundered inside me, and did what he said. A grimace settled onto my face. There was a rotting scent lingering in the air I somehow hadn’tnoticed. I scrunched my nose as the sickeningly sweet scent embedded itself in my nostrils.
“Did an animal get slaughtered down here?” I asked, keeping in the cough that tried to crawl out of my throat.
“That’s what I’m here to discover,” Preston replied, letting go of me and walking into the gloom.
Curiosity had driven me down into these tunnels, a desperate need to uncover the secrets hidden beneath the manor. But now, as the scent of decay grew heavier with each step, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was truly ready to face what might lay ahead. A corpse, perhaps, abandoned to rot in the dark.
I swallowed, then cursed under my breath, gripping my knife harder. I imagined this place to be filled with bats, and while I wasn’t scared of them, I didn’t want to cross their paths either. The thought of them getting stuck in my hair made a nauseous wave move over my body.
“Will you stay here, turning the corridor pretty, or will you come along?” Preston asked, and I blinked, getting out of the deep trance I had trapped myself into.
My heart throbbed in my chest faster, a treacherous sign of my nerves, as I watched the shadows dance over his sharp features.
I took a deep breath and sent him a vile look. “I’ll go ahead.”
I strode into the tunnel, hoping he didn’t notice the fright that must be showing on my face. I continued on the grey stoned path, the cobwebs swaying above our heads as the wind danced around us, screaming.
The walls seemed to draw closer, and the air chilled the deeper we went. I ran my hands over my arms, wishing I would have brought a jacket instead of my sweater. My senses sharpened as I eyed the darkness that slid away from the candle. It felt as if it was staring back at me, enjoying the terror that it injected into my mind.
I knew that there was a low chance to encounter anyone down here, still, I couldn’t stop myself from remembering that I did hear something on the other side of my wall. Whatever it was it could very well still be down here.
“Rats do exist, you know,” he called from behind me. “You could’ve very well heard one.”
I shook my head. I had thought about that. “It was something larger than that.”
The scent of death became overwhelming, making my eyes water. It sickened me that I hoped we would find an animal carcass instead of something else. I wiped the corners of my eyes and peered back at Preston.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” he mocked, scrunching his nose from the decaying odour.
I grimaced, trying to blink away my uncertainty. I needed a moment to gather my strength and keep going. It wasn’t as if I was scared of what we might uncover. I was just rather attached to my dinner and wanted to keep it down. But before I could gather myself, Preston moved past me, gently pressing me against the cold wall and taking the candle out of my hand. My skin grew hot. He stopped in front of an empty wall and ran his fingers over the stone. I shifted closer, my curiosity relighting.
A door was built into the stone, I realised, too dark to notice at first sight. It was cracked open, and Preston inched it wider revealing a chamber behind. I hid my nose into the sleeve of my sweater, my dinner moving up in my throat as the rotting odour grew even more intense.
Preston stepped over the threshold and I took a deep breath through my mouth before doing the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ELODIE
The room was small, cloaked in the smell of damp stone and time. Torn remnants of wallpaper clung to the mildewed walls, curling like old petals. My candle cast uncertain shadows over the space, revealing a bed in the centre draped in a white sheet that sagged with dust. Beside it, a crooked wardrobe leaned against the wall, its doors hanging on by little more than memory.
But it was the carved wooden chest at the foot of the bed that caught my attention. Its surface was worn smooth, the lock already unlatched. Curious, I slid the knife back into my pocket and eased the lid open. Under the grey dust, dozens of books rested inside, aged and fraying, nestled like secrets. I traced my fingers over the faded covers ofThe Secret Garden, Peter and Wendy, rare editions I’d never seen before.
“Bloody—” Preston’s low groan, sharp and soft all at once, pulled my attention like a string.
He was in the corner, hunched over something obscured by his body. I moved closer, my nose still buried in my sleeve to mask the stench. He muttered something under his breath andleaned aside, revealing the horror that was hidden behind him. The first thing I noticed was a hoof.
My stomach tightened into a small knot. I reached for my bracelet to twist it for comfort, only to find my wrist bare. The lump in my throat grew. Damp, pale fleece, and a lonely glassy eye stared up at me, belonging to a sheep sprawled grotesquely across the floor. I jerked back, swallowing to keep the bile from rising in my throat. The sight was obscene—half rotted—wrong in a way that moulded the air in shades of dread.
“How did it get in here?” I forced the words out, looking around the chamber. Could it be that the animal roamed the passages, then somehow ended up in what seemed to be an old nursery?
Preston shook his head, a handkerchief pressed to his face, his breath uneven. The blood in my ears pulsed louder.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I turned from the scene, stepping toward the door to breathe, when I heard it again. What I thought to be blood pulsing in my ears was actually approaching footsteps. I jerked back, my eyes widening.
