“I’m afraid I can’t let you go down there—”
He had tried to bar the door down into the basement. Tried being the operative word here. I pulled it open, even while he had pressed it shut. I sensed that Franklin wasn’t using all of his great strength. I also sensed that, despite perhaps not liking me very much—for reasons I still didn’t understand—he would never use all of his strength against me. I sensed his restraint. Smart man.
Now, as I headed down the narrow flight of stone stairs, I might as well have been a half a world away, heading down into the dungeon of a forgotten castle along a mist-shrouded hillside. Dracula’s castle.
“Master Kingsley will not be happy,” said Franklin, following behind.
“Master Kingsley can bite me.”
“No truer words have been spoken, I’m afraid.”
I was about to reply when I paused in mid-step. I paused because something deep and rumbling seemed to emanate up through the stone steps themselves. Hell penetrated through the surrounding walls and ceiling.
“What the devil was that?”
“Again, no truer words have been spoken.”
On that ominous note, I continued down the dimly lit stairs. As I neared the landing, a hand fell onto my shoulder. “Madam, please. Kingsley will not want you to see him like this. Please stop.”
I stopped in mid-step and looked back. Franklin’s pale face hovered in the darkness. Gone was his usual look of distaste for me. Why the man didn’t like me, I may never know.
“Has he turned?” I asked.
Franklin shook his head. As he did so, I could see the scars that stitched his right ear on. The stitching wasn’t done with very much care. “It’s still early, but the process has begun.”
“Because it’s a full moon somewhere,” I said.
“Perhaps. You must turn back. I must insist on this.”
“I know you’re just doing your job, but so am I.”
Strange energy flitted in the hallway below. Small, amorphous energy. Animal energy, I realized. Lots of it. The place might as well have been a slaughterhouse.
Lots of killing in here, I thought.
I had a vague idea what I was in for. I had, in fact, seen Kingsley completely transformed a few years ago. It was then that I had been introduced to the entity within him...and the realization that something was, in fact, in me as well.
“Please, Sam,” said Franklin, and it was, I was certain, the first time he had used my first name. “I beg you. This will not be pretty.”
“I’m not here for pretty,” I said. “I’m here for help.”
And with that, I turned my back on Franklin and continued down.
Chapter Thirty-one
I found myself in a narrow corridor, with a stone wall to the left, and a long metal wall to my right. I could have been walking along the hull of a great battleship. Halogen lighting flickered overhead, giving the impression of torchlight. You’d think Kingsley, with all of his bucks, would dish out some of it for better lighting.
Somewhere, water dripped.
And since we weren’t anywhere near a Scottish loch, or under a medieval moat, I could only assume that Kingsley’s sprinkler system was on the fritz.
No, I had never been down here before. But not for a lack of trying. Kingsley had been firm about keeping me away. Even to the point of being kind of a dick.
I heard Franklin stop behind me, felt him watching me, felt his disapproval, his concern.
I continued forward.
Before me, set into the steel wall, was a heavy-looking metal door that looked like it belonged on the space shuttle. As I walked, I heard...something on the other side of the metal wall. Breathing, perhaps.
As I continued, something thudded loudly on the other side of the wall, so loudly that the ground beneath me shook. I stopped and swallowed. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I really didn’t want to see Kingsley like this.
No, I thought. I had to talk with him...and now. A talk he and I had never had before, but it was time.
Another thud from the other side of the wall. This one louder, sounding as if something meaty and big had been slammed against the wall. There was only one thing meaty and big on the other side of that wall. That thing happened to be Orange County’s most prominent defense attorney...
And my boyfriend.
Still another thunderous slam, and now, the wall next to me shook as well. Dust sifted down from above, and the light flickered, went out briefly, and then flickered back on again. I continued down the cement corridor.
The closer I got to the metal door, the more I could smell it: death.
Putrid death, too.
Something that been dead for many, many days. Perhaps even a week.
I looked back and saw Franklin staring out at me from the shadows of the stairway. I was beginning to understand why they had tried so hard to keep me away...
The entity within me perked up at the smell, but I had been doing a pretty damned good job of keep her locked up, so I wrapped a few more mental iron bars around the cage I imagined her in.
A few years ago, I would have gagged at the smell of death. Now, not so much. Now, I was intrigued by it. What had died? How had it died? Perhaps I could never truly go back to who I had been. Perhaps I’d done too many things, seen too many things.
Still, I tried to find a neutral feeling about the smell. In fact, I tried to not have any feeling about the smell at all. My new goal these days was to not give the entity within me any hope. Or any escape.
With each step I took, the pounding on the other side of the wall seemed to keep pace with me, but as I reached the door, the sound stopped altogether, and a deathly silence followed.
More nervous than I thought I would be, I stood just to the side of the door. There was a small, square opening in the door, no bigger than a small fist. Certainly not big enough for Kingsley to reach through. Most important, I could see that the door itself was at least six inches thick.
Jesus.
Now, from the other side of the door, I heard the breathing. Deep and ragged. Something was just off to the side of the door, listening to me. That something was, of course, Kingsley.
At least, I hoped it was.
I held my breath; after all, the putrid stench was pouring through the opening in the door. Muted light came through, too. The light was high up, casting a squarish light on the floor before me.
“Kingsley,” I said hesitantly. “It’s Sam—”
A face suddenly appeared in the small opening. A very hairy and sweating face...wild and contorted and in obvious pain. I squeaked and took a step back.