No Humans Involved
Page 50

That wasn't what I meant, but he'd already vanished into the darkness.
I knelt and leaned into the hole.
"Jeremy?" I passed down the flashlight.
"No," he said. "You keep-"
"Take it. All I'm doing is sitting here."
He came up a couple of stairs and took the flashlight, then disappeared, and the room went dark. Very dark. I lifted my hand and couldn't see it.
I tried not to think of those suspended eyeballs staring down at me.
A random thought flashed through my brain. Was there any chance I could reanimate those bits? By accident? I tried not to think of it but, of course, thought of it all the more, images of B-grade horror movies flashing past, those bits and pieces taking on life-
Silly, of course. It's tough enough for a necromancer to bring a full body back to life. Not the sort of thing I could do accidentally- thank God. And if a zombie loses a body part-which they tend to do, with the rotting and all-the parts don't stay alive, creeping along of their own volition. But how much of a corpse had to be left in order to be raised? Would a head be enough? Were there any heads in those jars?
A light flickered in the hole. Jeremy coming back? The light bobbed away again. I stuck my head down as far as I could without toppling in headfirst, but the ladder stretched down a chute at least four feet long. I twisted around and put my foot on the first rung. Just a quick peek.
My toes slid off the rung and I had to catch the edge of the hatch to keep from falling.
Yet another reason why heels were a really bad idea. Maybe if I took them off No, I'd probably miss the rungs in the dark and still fall down the ladder.
Someone laughed. I went still. A muffled male voice. Ghosts? A rattle, then the creak of an opening door, keys jangling against the steel.
"Think we're the first ones here."
"Looks like it." A woman. "Oh, here comes Eric."
Okay, not ghosts. Worse. I leaned into the hatch, to call for Jeremy, then froze, picturing the open door just a few feet away. Feeling my way out, I went through the curtain, then slid behind the half-open door.
"Where's that light switch?" the woman asked.
"Beside the front door."
"Ah."
I eased the storeroom door shut, turning the handle and engaging the lock with a quiet click.
"Let there be light. Hey, Eric"
As the voices continued, I hurried back to the trap door, hands out again, feeling my way in the pitch blackness. As the curtain tickled my fingertips, I paused. Should I lock the door first? I hadn't felt a locking mechanism when I'd closed it. Did you need the key to relock it? Or, worse, did it engage automatically, and I'd just locked us in?
No time to check. I pushed past the curtain, then pulled up short as I envisioned myself falling through the hatch. I crouchedand felt my way forward. A flicker of light from below answered my question. Before it disappeared, I found and gripped the opening, then I ducked my head into the hole.
"Jeremy?" I whispered.
My voice echoed in the chute. No answer came from below.
More laughter and more voices from the shop. Why were people coming here after midnight?
Uh, probably because the shop's owner is the head of a sex cult. They wouldn't hold their meetings Saturday afternoons at the library.
"Jeremy?"
My whisper bounced around again in the chute, swallowed by bad acoustics.
A voice sounded just outside the door-the door to the storeroom containing the magic and bondage gear needed for a proper sex cult meeting.
I found the ladder. Took two steps down. Paused. Maybe they'd go for drinks or something first. Loosen up the inhibitions. Always worked for me.
Keys rattled, then slid into the storage room keyhole. I grabbed the hatch lid with one hand and the rug with the other, and closed the door as I pulled the rug over it. It wouldn't be perfect, but it should pass a casual glance.
I hurried down the ladder, my toes somehow managing to keep their traction until I reached the bottom.
The roving light swung my way. I raised my finger to my lips and hurried forward, my heels clicking on the concrete. I stopped to yank them off. When I lifted my head, Jeremy was beside me.
"People," I whispered, pointing up.
A soft curse. He looked up, as if straining to hear, then shook his head. The floor must have been too thick.
"Hmmm, what have we here?" a voice whispered in the dark.
I jumped, but Jeremy seemed unperturbed. I took the flashlight from him and shone it around. A heavyset, middle-aged man with a receding chin walked through a stack of boxes, his gaze fixed on me.
"A redhead. Very nice."
"Who are you?" I whispered.
The man stopped, squinting, as if trying to figure out who I was talking to. Jeremy looked down at me and frowned.
"Ghost," I whispered.
"Gho-" the man began, then curled his lip. "Necromancer. Tried to trick me with that flashlight, hiding your glow. If you're here to report me-"
"Report you for what?"
He dropped his gaze. "Nothing."
"Ask him if there's another way out," Jeremy said.
"Way out?" the ghost said, hearing him. "Now why would you want to leave?" He bared his teeth in a nasty smile. "I think you're really going to enjoy yourself."
I cast the light around. We stood in the middle of a large base-mentlike room with concrete floor and walls. To my left, some occult symbols had been painted on the floor right beside a row of hooks embedded in the concrete. There were more hooks on the walls.