Page 197 of Love at First Fright

“What?” I said. “In where?”

“The basement!” she shrieked. “Where else?”

Right. Fair.

“What do you mean? How?”

Tom stepped forward, barely visible in the darkness. “If you come with me, I’ll show you.”

I didn’t hesitate. Followed him down the corridor, through the entrance hall, out the front door—

The storm slammed into me.

Rain hammered down in sheets, instantly soaking through my jumper. Wind tore at my hair, plastering it to my skull. I could barely see two feet ahead, just Tom’s faint outline moving through the downpour.

The garden was a nightmare of mud and dead grass. My trainers squelched with every step. Water streamed down my face, into my eyes, my mouth. I spat it out and kept moving.

Tom led us across the grounds, towards the perimeter where trees crowded the fence line. Branches thrashed overhead, groaning under the wind’s assault.

The crypt.

That stone structure Brad had found before, half hidden by ivy. Iron-banded oak door, black with age. Chain wound through the handles, secured with that massive padlock.

Tom stopped in front of it. Turned to face me, rain passing straight through his body.

He opened his fist.

A key sat in his palm. Muddy. Covered in dirt like he’d just dug it up from somewhere.

“When the house was built,” Tom said, raising his voice above the storm, “they constructed a tunnel between the basement and the crypt. In case of attack, see? You’ll need to move the sarcophagus once you’re inside.”

My hands shook as I took the key, cold against my palm.

“Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you so much.”

I fumbled with the padlock, fingers already numb from the rain. The key slipped. I tried again, forcing it into the rusted mechanism. It caught. Turned.

The chain fell away with a heavy clank.

I grabbed the iron handle and pulled.

The door didn’t budge.

“Come on.” I braced my foot against the stone frame and yanked harder. “Come on.”

Something gave. The door scraped open an inch. Two inches. Then, just enough for me to slip through if I turned sideways.

I glanced back at Tom and Molly. They both lingered several feet away, clearly refusing to follow me inside.

Cowards.

I bet Rosemary at least would have been up for an adventure with me, but going back inside the manor to track down a Victorian schoolgirl just to have company while ransacking a crypt seemed in poor taste.

I squeezed through the gap.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

The smell hit first. Decay. Damp stone. Something ancient and wrong that made my stomach lurch. I fumbled for my phone, tapped the torch on.