Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Well, tough shit, because he was sure that creeper Elliot was hiding somewhere in the spooky corridors, and Jake would be the one to catch him red-handed.
The entrance to the old cellar was concealed behind a moving wooden panel on the wall, so maybe there were more passages none of the patched knew of? Jake rushed over to the wall in clouds of dust coming off the carpet, and he placed his hands against the textured wallpaper that peeled off the damp walls. He had the distinct sense of being watched, as if the seated corpse followed his every step with her empty eye sockets.
He’d dealt with dead bodies before, but he was still not exactly used to them. Realizing that we were all sacks of meat moved by brains had never sat all that well with Jake, and yet after the first death he’d witnessed, a certain understanding settled in him. No one was invincible, no one was immortal. Even the strongest man could (and would) end up in the dirt one day. Even him.
As Jake’s fingers traced the wallpaper, another creak from the floor made him pay more attention to movement in the dark. Could it have been a rat? A cockroach? Step by step, he illuminated each corner with the flashlight. Whenever he shifted, shadows lengthened in the yellow glow, creating the illusion of movement. If anything, the beam made the space creepier, exactly the kind of place a guy like Elliot would love. Why an amazing man like Knight gave that guy the time of day remained a mystery, because Elliot hadn’t earned someone so handsome and kind.
No, Knight deserved to be cherished and doted on.
Jake scowled when the thick fabric sank under his feet with a damp sound, as if he were stepping on moss, but a small irregularity under his foot made Jake stop. Ignoring the three skeletons watching him in silence, he moved his boot over whatever was underneath the carpet. The thing was hard to the touch and shaped like a long and narrow piece of metal or rock.
Jake kicked it, but it didn’t budge.
He already had an idea what it could be though, and pride swelled in his chest that others, including Knight, had missed what he’d found after just minutes down here. It could only be a hinge. A hinge meant a door, and a door meant a room where Elliot could be staying without permission.
Jake sneered at the thought of anyone willingly living in a dark, damp cellar, right under a room with three corpses. But Elliot was a weirdo, and a fan of a serial killer, for fuck’s sake! It would surely not be beneath him to shiver with glee at what normal people would run away from screaming.
Jake shoved away the armchair along with the long-dead lady, and peeled the carpet off the floor as if it were a layer of skin, attached to it with years of dust and mold.
And there it was. A trapdoor.
Despite the grim surroundings, Jake grinned. “You’re not hiding from me, you fucker.”
The wooden door was large enough for two or even three men to easily pass through side-by-side, and Jake had to strain his back when pulling it up by the heavy iron handle, but he wouldn’t be defeated by rusty hinges.
With a grunt of relief when the door finally budged, he opened it, leaning the heavy slab of wood and iron against the wall. A damp, vinegary stench blew into his face from below, but he grabbed the flashlight and shone into the hidden room. A dull grunt left his lips when the yellow beam hit a huge padlock that kept a metal grate in place just below the trapdoor. Not Elliot’s lair then.
Jake flashed more light into the hidden chamber, just to be on the safe side, but what he found was a well-like space with stone walls, empty save for yet another skeleton lying naked on its side. A shudder went through Jake’s body. He’d found yet another of William Fane’s torture chambers, or a holding cell where a lone man died of hunger and thirst once his deviant captor had been killed. There was no point in wrecking the padlock.
Jake was about to pull back and shut the trapdoor when movement drew his attention back to the walls that must have been part of a natural cave under the house when this cellar was first built. The glow from his flashlight drew a line along the edge of the room, but when he focused on the skeleton again, twin red spots reflected the illumination back at Jake. He startled so abruptly he had to grab the heavy trapdoor for stability as his windpipe narrowed in fright. It was a pair of eyes. Small like two beads, watching him from below, they hypnotized him to stare at the tiny creature hiding in the confines of the corpse’s rib cage.