There was nothing on earth that could have convinced Landon to prolong this tour. “You know, it’s probably pretty self-explanatory.”
A jarring crack rolled through the chamber. The man in front of Landon swore loudly. He wondered if anyone but Rose was truly enjoying themselves.
“Many people died down here,” the guide continued. “Some people say you can still hear them, screaming, clawing to get out on these cold, dark nights.” Landon wished this tour guide was a little less good at her job. Why couldn’t they have been blessed with a gangly teenager, with pimples and a cracking voice? He would have been able to find some humor in that. Landon wanted to see the bright lights of High Street very, very badly.
Finally, the cramped stairwell let out into a chamber with high ceilings. It was a relief to stand up straight, though Landon still didn’t want to linger longer than they had to.
“This is where they lived, and slept,” the guide said. “One of many arched chambers under the South Bridge. If you feel a cold gust of air, hear a voice, or feel something, try not to run. I’ll give you all a moment to explore.”
Rose tapped a finger on Landon’s shoulder and he jumped. “Easy there,” she said with a smile. “Explore with me?”
His heart lurched—the foolish, untrustworthy thing—and hope flared before he could stop it. “As long as you lead the way.”
Landon could hardly see two feet in front of him, but Rose moved with the grace he’d quickly grown to associate with her; a confidence that she could navigate any space at all. “You know, I thought our guide was going to get a little more specific about the ghosts down here. It feels like the world’s most sanitized history lesson.”
He chuckled. “What sorts of details were you hoping for?”
Rose turned around, and he caught the bright whites of her teeth. “My friend told me that when she was down here, her guidetold her about a ghost named Mr. Boots. He pushes people and throws rocks at them.”
Landon scoffed. “And you’d like to meet him?”
“I’d at least like to hear about him! And what about William Burke and William Hare?”
“What about them?”
“The famous serial killers? Apparently they used these vaults as a hideout. And I mean, they killed like seventeen people. That’s worth a mention!”
“Well the tour’s not over yet,” Landon said, though that sort of morbid history held no appeal for him. “If you know all this stuff already, why come?”
“It’s one thing to know something. It’s another thing to feel it.”
She was an artist, historian, and scientist, this new Rose. “I’m very sorry no ghosts have stoned you yet. All I’ve got is a mild case of claustrophobia, but I haven’t felt anything.”Thank God.
Rose shrugged. “I thought I felt something earlier, but I can’t tell if I only think I felt it because I was hoping to feel it.”
Landon was very done exploring, or whatever the hell it was they were doing down there in the dark. “What do you think you felt?”
“A little hand,” she said.
The damp air threatened to choke him. “What makes you think you felt that?”
Rose placed her hand on the wet stone of the room’s archway as if trying to force the room to tell her its secrets. “There was no weight to it, but it was warm. Then it was gone. I got so cold, after. Honestly, I still can’t shake off this chill.”
Landon stripped off his jacket without thinking, the way he’d always done for Rose when she expressed even an ounce of discomfort. “Here, take mine.”
She let him drape it over her shoulders, studying him in the dark. “Now you’ll be cold. What if a ghost grabs your hand?”
“Oh, ghosts don’t like me very much,” said Landon.
“Let’s keep moving, folks!” their guide yelled from somewhere Landon couldn’t quite see. “Don’t want to leave anyone behind, but we’ve a few more vaults to see and you’ll not want to miss the story of Mr. Boots.”
“There it is!” Rose said triumphantly. “Just a few more vaults, and you’re a free man.”
Landon chuckled but could not conceal his unease. He told himself the cold in his chest was just his imagination running wild. But he remembered too well the feeling of a small hand inside his own. What he felt now was close enough to set his heart racing.
“Are you okay?” Rose asked, reading something on his face he hadn’t meant her to see.
“Never better.” The small hand in his tightened, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to be unaffected. But he’d never been able to shake the feeling before. Why on earth would he be able to here?
