Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles) (15 page)

As Michael
continued to babble quietly, Matthew noticed that Amy was crawling on the
floor. Her loud voice startled him. “I found a key!” She quickly stood up.
“Here, give me the light. I’ll shine it on his hands.”

“Great,” Matthew
said, happy that something positive was happening. He fumbled with the key,
thinking at first that the key didn’t fit the hole. When he was finally able to
turn the key, both he and Amy exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“We’re gonna get
you out of here,” Amy swore. Once out of the chains, Michael fell heavily into
their arms.

“Can you walk?”
Matthew asked Michael.

“I can sure
try,” he said slowly. “There’s some kind of monster down here. I’m serious.”

“We believe
you,” Matthew assured him. “I can feel its presence.”

“He was feeding
on me. Alan was feeding on me.”

“I don’t
understand, Michael,” Matthew said. “What do you mean?”

“Alan Brickton
is alive. And he was drinking my blood like a vampire.” Although Michael was
having trouble talking clearly, his voice tired and broken, Matthew thought he
seemed relatively lucid. But when he saw Michael’s neck and eye, he had a
feeling that Michael had been hallucinating. Judging from the wounds on his
neck and face, it made sense. He had lost a lot of blood.

“You’re lucky to
be walking, my friend,” Matthew laughed. “You have a strong survival instinct.
Your adrenaline is keeping you alive. Just hold on a little longer.”

They walked back
into the passageway, still lit by the lamps. Matthew was expecting another gust
of wind to extinguish them, or perhaps another visit from the demon. But
nothing happened.

“Do you hear
that?” Amy asked, helping Matthew carry Michael. Matthew listened again. He
knew something was in front of them and moving toward them. Then he saw a small
light appear in the distance, growing brighter as it closed the gap between
them.

“I hear it
and
see it,” Matthew replied. “This should be interesting.”

“What do you
think it is?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know,
but something tells me we’re about to find out.”

* * * * * *

3

“Are you
seriously going to crawl under the damned table?” George asked, sounding
irritated. Jake wanted to flip him off, but instead decided to ignore him.

Why do I owe you
an answer?
Jake
thought. He grabbed the edges of the ornate tablecloth and pulled. When it
didn’t slide across the surface of the table, he tugged a little harder.

“Even this thing
is attached to the wall,” Jake griped. “Now that’s just plain weird.”

“What do you
think it means?” George asked.

“How the hell
should I know? Just keep your eyes open for any movement in the room.”

“Sure thing,”
George mumbled.

The cloth was
long, its length ending just above the floor. Jake lifted it and folded it onto
the table. He bent to his knees so he could get a good look under the table. He
took the flashlight and shined it onto the wooden panels on the far end.

“See anything?”
George asked. Jake could sense a mocking tone. Again, he ignored him. Jake
considered him a good friend, but at times George could be a real pain in the
ass.

“These panels
could probably be removed pretty easily,” Jake thought out loud, more to himself
than to George. He began crawling toward the wall hoping he would find
something. He’d never hear the end of it if he came out empty handed. George
would have a field day. He could hear George chuckling as he reached the wall
at the end of the table.

There were four
large panels in front of him. He decided to start with the ones on the bottom.
He pushed on the one to his right as hard as he could. If one of these panels
acted as a secret door, it wasn’t this one. He tried the one on the left, and
that didn’t work either. After working his way through the remaining panels, he
sat with his legs folded, his head touching the bottom of the table.

He couldn’t
shake the feeling that there was something behind those panels. He decided to
trace his fingers along the trim of each panel, thinking that perhaps there was
some sort of trigger. He felt something catch, and then the sound of a latch
turning. The panels on the right both opened. Although the passage was small,
he easily fit through.

“Did you find something,
Jake?” George yelled from the library as Jake made his way through the opening.
He quickly turned around and crawled back out from under the table and into the
library.

“There’s a door
under there, George. Who’s the dumbass now?” He allowed his comment to float in
the air for a moment before continuing. “Get Rick and John down here for
backup. We’re going in.”

“Copy that,
Jake.”

While George
called the others, Jake began wondering whether it was a good idea to explore
what was behind those walls. After their experience in the woods, he didn’t
want to take any chances. But then again, cracking this case wide open could
ensure that he would win the next election.

It can’t be that
unsafe
,
Jake thought.
Nothing could have gotten into this house once we were in
here. And the killer, or killers, were outside.
He tried to remember if
there were any other entrances to the house, minus the front and side doors.

“Give me that,”
Jake ordered as he took George’s radio.

“Tim, do you
copy?” Jake asked.

“Copy, Jake.
What’s up?”

“Have you found
a basement yet?”

“No, but . . .
but we found something else.” Tim’s voice was filled with hesitation.

Jake waited for
Tim to say something and got frustrated when he didn’t. “This is the part where
you tell me what you found.”

“There’s no
basement, per say,” Tim said. “But there is a wine cellar. At least that is my
best guess.”

“What do you
mean, your best guess?”

“Well, it’s
locked up pretty good. Two deadbolts. There are a few cases of wine lying
outside the door here beside us. So we’re figuring it’s a wine cellar.”

“Copy that,”
Jake said. “See if you can break the door down.”

“Copy. How are
things on your end?”

“We found
something, too,” Jake said. “A secret door to a room behind the library.”

“I almost don’t
know what to say to that,” Tim radioed back. “Are Rick and John going to check
it out with you?”

“10-4, they just
got here. Do you have your end covered?” Jake asked.

“Roger. Let’s
check in every five minutes,” Tim suggested.

Jake wished he
had been the one to give the orders. “Copy.” He shoved the radio back at
George. “Put it away.”

The four of them
crawled under the table single file, then found themselves staring at a
ginormous, strange carving of what looked like a bear.

“Damn,” Rick
said as he whistled. 

“Is that some
sort of bear?” Jake asked.

“It’s a totem,”
Rick said. Everyone looked at him with surprise. “What? Yes, I read.”

It figures this
jackass would have an answer
, Jake thought. Rick reminded Jake of
Tim, which made sense since they were good friends.

“You mean like
the Indians?” George asked.

“You mean the
Native Americans?” Rick corrected. “Yes, it is. I think it’s a family or tribe
thing.”

“Clan of the
Cave Bear kind of shit, right?” John asked. “My wife reads those books.”

“I couldn’t tell
you,” Rick answered.

“I didn’t know
Acorn Alan was Native American,” Jake confessed.

“I don’t think
anyone did,” Rick said as he looked through a few of the books behind the
totem.

“Check this
out,” John said as he moved to the other side of the room. “A hallway lit by
fire lamps. Someone must be down there.”

“Do you think it
could be the priests?” George asked.

“I have a
feeling this is their handiwork,” Jake said. “What idiots. How could they think
it would be a good idea to walk down a hidden tunnel that, at the time, must
have been dark as hell?”

“But what if the
lamps were already lit,” Rick pointed out. “They were obviously smart enough to
find the secret entrance under the table.”

“Well then that
makes them ten times dumber,” Jake griped, knowing he wasn’t making much sense.
“So I guess we need to find them. Let’s go.”

“Someone have
matches or a lighter?” Rick asked the group. “Just in case our lights don’t
work and the lamps go out.”

“I have a
lighter,” George offered. “I still haven’t quit smoking.”

“Good, let’s
move,” Jake ordered. He had to admit that both Rick and Tim were good cops. In
fact, once he was elected sheriff he would make Rick and Tim his top cops. That
way at least Jake’s authority would separate the man from the boys.

As they began
walking through the tunnel, Jake noticed how cold it seemed. A shiver crept
down his spine, similar to the way he had felt when they were running through
the forest.

“Something’s not
right,” John murmured. “It shouldn’t be this cold. I mean, yes, it gets cooler
underground, but this is different.”

“Maybe it’s
ventilated,” George wondered. Everyone looked at him.

“Yeah, I’m sure
that’s it,” Jake mocked. “John, you guys brought a larger flashlight with you,
right?”

“Yeah, got one
right here.”

Jake took the
flashlight and began shining it down the hall. When they made the U-turn, Jake
lifted his hand so everyone would come to a halt.

“Do you see that
down there?” he asked.

“I see something
moving, but can’t make it out,” Rick answered.

It must be the
priests,
Jake
thought to himself. He began walking quickly toward the dark shapes, holding
the flashlight steady. Confusion muddled Jake’s mind when he realized there
were three figures moving toward him.

“Who’s there?”
Jake yelled as he reached for his gun.

“It’s Father
McMillan!” a voice answered. “We have an injured police officer!”

What the hell?
Jake thought. He
picked up his pace until he could clearly see Matthew and Amy.

“What the Christ
are you guys doing down here?” Jake demanded. He looked at the man they were
helping. By this point, Rick and the others had joined them with George
bringing up the rear.

“It’s Michael,”
Jake said softly.

“Jesus!” George
hollered. “It’s Michael!”

“No shit, Sherlock,”
Jake snapped. “We done figured that out.”

“How did you get
down here?” Rick asked, dumbfounded.

“You’ve got a
shitload of explaining to do, priests,” Jake said in a nasty tone. “And you can
start by telling me how the hell you ended up with a bloody cop.”

“Alan, Alan,”
Michael repeated. “Alan…”

“What’s he
talking about?” Jake hissed at Father McMillan.

“He thinks Alan
Brickton is the one who did this to him,” the priest said.

Jake shook his
head. “Is he delirious?” he asked.

“I’m not a
doctor,” Father McMillan began, “but I think he’s in shock. That could lead to
some confusion I would think.”

Jake ignored
him. “Rick, get over here and help me with Michael.” Jake pushed the priests
aside. “Michael, it’s Jake and Rick. We’ve got you buddy.”

Michael looked
at Jake with dark, haunted eyes. “I’m in my right mind,” Michael insisted. “It
was Alan Brickton. He was…” and he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“He what? What
did he do?” Rick urged patiently.

“He was trying
to eat me.”

Oh, hell
, thought Jake.
This
kid’s done lost his shit
. As if he could sense Jake’s distrust of what had
happened to him, Michael shook his head. Pain was plastered across his face as
he began to bleed from his neck.

“Goddammit, I’m
not crazy! The bastard is alive, grabbed me in the woods, and strung me up like
a pig roast.” Suddenly Michael looked horrified.

“What is it?”
Rick asked.

“Anna,” he
whispered.

“Anna?” Jake
blurted out somewhat rudely. “What about her?”

“She was in the
woods with me. Is she okay?”

“Michael, just
take it easy. We’ll figure it all out when we get to the hospital,” Rick promised.
He looked at Jake, who shrugged and nodded forward.

“Let’s get out
of this place,” Jake said.

“But we’re
supposed to stay here,” John said.

“I don’t give
two shits where we’re supposed to be,” Jake shouted. “Michael needs a doctor
and I am not sticking around this place so we can end up like him.” He looked
around at everyone. They seemed to be in agreement, so they began making their
way back to the library.