by Amy Cross
“You fell further than that,” he replies darkly.
“Really?” I pause for a moment, trying to figure out what he means. “Do you... Is there another basement under the first one?”
“Another basement?” He furrows his brow, before shaking his head. “Stop talking nonsense. There's only one basement in any house. You just fell beyond it, that's all. I should have understood sooner, but I've been rather preoccupied lately with the upcoming soul auction.”
“I don't know what any of that means,” I tell him.
“And nor should you.” He pauses, and again he seems very troubled by something. “It's not often that people from above end up down here, and when it does happen, it never ends well. I need to get you back up into that house as fast as possible, but -”
“Thank you!”
“- but it's too late now, at least for tonight.”
He takes a pocket-watch from his jacket and opens the front.
“It's almost midnight,” he mutters. “That means the soul auction is about to begin.”
“I'm sorry,” I reply, “but I think you're wrong. It wasn't even lunchtime when I left the room in the house, so it can't be midnight now.”
He turns the watch around so that I can see the face, which does indeed show the time as being 11.45.
“Your watch must be wrong,” I tell him.
“I can take you home,” he replies, “but now while there's a soul auction taking place. You're going to have to stay close to me, and I'll do my best to get you through the night. Then, come morning, we can see about wriggling you back up to that house.”
“I really can't be out all night,” I point out. “Mummy... I mean, my mother will be worried.”
“No,” he mutters under his breath, “I don't think she will.”
“I've already been gone for a while,” I explain. “Listen, my brother Johnny is probably still waiting outside the room, but even he has to realize eventually that something's wrong. When lunchtime arrives and I can't be found, Mummy will start getting annoyed. Then by dinnertime she'll actually realize something's wrong, and then the police will be called and everything. So you see, it's really much better if you just show me the way out and I'll go up. It's better for everyone.”
“I can't just walk you through the place,” he says, before biting his bottom lip for a moment. “You'll be ripped to shreds.”
“I'm sorry?”
“Your odor has probably already traveled far and wide.”
“What odor?” I sniff my armpits. “I don't smell.”
“I've never heard of a human surviving a night at a soul auction,” he says with a sigh. “Then again, I've never heard of a human getting trapped down here and having someone to protect her, so I suppose there's a first time for everything.”
“I don't even know what a soul auction is,” I tell him.
“And nor should you find out,” he replies. “Not ever. You're young and you're human. That's a bad combination.”
“You do realize this is kidnapping, don't you?”
“Nobody forced you to go down that hole.”
“I thought it went straight to one of the downstairs rooms.”
“Well, then you thought wrong, didn't you?”
“It's not my fault!” I yell, before realizing that I'm letting myself get too upset. “I want to go home. I don't want to be in the basement anymore.”
“You're not in a basement, little girl. You're a lot, lot deeper than any basement has ever been built.”
“You're talking nonsense,” I point out. “This is my aunt's basement, and the weird things can all be explained. The face and mouth on the wall -”
“You met a corridor?”
“It was some kind of special effect.”
“Corridors blab,” he says with a sigh. “It's not like they have much else to do, so they gossip constantly. That means other people are going to start hearing about you.”
“From a corridor?”
He pauses, before stepping closer.
“You have no idea how much danger you're in, do you?” he asks, as I look up at him. “Miss Milly, listen to me very carefully. Were it not for me, you would be dead by now, do you understand? Even if those Blood Weepers had purchased you from Madame Ruby, they wouldn't have held onto you for long. Something else would have come along and taken you as a snack.”
“You're lying!” I say firmly. “I'm not a little girl and I don't believe in stupid stories!”
“You are a little girl,” he shouts, shoving me against the wall, “and you do believe in stupid stories!”
“I do not!”
“You believe you have a chance of living through this night, don't you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“And what about this thing?”
Before I can answer, he snatches Lucy from my hand. I try to take her back, but he's too quick and he steps away.
“That's mine!” I yell, lunging at him, only for him to push me away.
“This doll is not a good idea,” he mutters darkly. “It could serve as a soulspiece for you.”
“Give it back!”
I try again to grab Lucy, but again he forces me away. This time he puts a hand on my forehead, holding me back no matter how hard I try to reach him.
“I should just let you wander off,” he says, glancing at me. “You wouldn't last five minutes out there without protection. Well, maybe five, but definitely not ten. Do you have any idea how many ways there are to die in a place like this?”
“Give her to me!” I scream, desperately trying to snatch the doll.
“There'd be pain first, though,” he continues. “So much pain. You're a child, you can't comprehend this world.”
“Give my doll back!” I shout, and now there are tears in my eyes.
“Listen, I -”
“Now!”
This time I manage to grab Lucy, and I yank her from this moron's hands before he has a chance to stop me.
“I don't want your help!” I tell him firmly.
Sighing, he reaches under his jacket, and a moment later he pulls out a small white mask.
“Put this on,” he says, holding the mask out toward me.
“I'm not wearing some stupid mask!”
“It's vital,” he replies. “You absolutely have to put it on, and keep it on at all times.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because at some point tonight, somebody or something will try to rip your face off.” He pauses, before placing the mask in my hands. “When that happens, don't you think it would be in your best interests to be wearing a mask?”
He holds the mask closer, but I push it away.
“I don't want your help,” I tell him, “and I don't need it, either. I'm going to go upstairs and tell everyone that you're down here, and then the police will come and drag you away and you'll rot in a jail cell forever and ever! And wipe that smile off your face, because I swear you're going to regret the day you ever set foot in my aunt's basement!”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I am?”
“You are!”
And with that, I turn and storm away along the corridor. I might not know the exact way to the stairs, but I'll find my way out soon enough. And when I do, this Duncan idiot is going to be in big trouble.
Chapter Five
“Hello?” I call out, stopping at yet another junction that offers only two equally dull-looking corridors. “Mummy? I'm tired, please come and help me get out!”
I wait, but there's no reply.
It must be twenty minutes at least since I walked away from Duncan, and I can only assume that I must have been going round and round in circles. How else could I still be in the basement of a house that – in truth – isn't really so very big at all? I suppose one rock-walled corridor looks much the same as another after a while, and this might be the tenth or even the twentieth time I've been down this particular corridor so far. I mean, no other explanation makes
sense.
“It's okay,” I mutter, looking down at Lucy. “I'll make sure that we -”
Suddenly hearing a bumping sound nearby, I turn and look along the corridor that winds away to the left. I can't see anyone, of course, but a moment later I hear another bump, accompanied this time by a fain shuffle and a whispering voice. There's definitely someone along there, but I can already tell that it's not Mummy, so I don't really want to go and take a look.
Taking care to not make too much noise, I head the other way, along a dark corridor that seems to dip slightly after a few meters, as if it's taking me deeper underground. That doesn't seem right, but I suppose I shouldn't overthink these things. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch for any sign that I'm being followed. There's no sign of anyone so far, but I keep looking back, even as I walk forward and -
“Whoa!”
Suddenly hands grab my shoulders and pull me aside. Startled, I turn and see that I've wandered to the edge of some kind of precipice, and then I see that a beautiful, dark-haired woman wearing a ragged shawl is holding me tight.
“Are you nuts?” she asks, clearly concerned. “You were about to walk straight off the edge!”
I look down, and again I see a vast drop. In fact, as I continue to peer down at what seems to be some kind of canyon, I realize I can't actually see the bottom. There has to be a bottom of course, but even when I squint I can only make out the darkness deep down in the pit.
And then I look up, and I see that somehow there's a vast, reddish-black sky above.
“You'd still be falling,” the woman tells me, letting go of my arms. “Maybe about now you'd be smashing into a rock, getting your head bashed open and so forth. So really, you should be very glad that I happened to be here, otherwise you'd be a crumpled mess.”
“Who are you?” I ask, taking a step back.
She smiles. “Does it matter?”
“Why are you in my aunt's basement?”
“Your who's what?”
“You're just like him,” I mutter under my breath, realizing that this woman isn't going to give me any proper answers. After just a few brief words, I've already got her pegged as a bit of a lunatic. Just like Duncan.
Then again, glancing up at the sky again, I can't help feeling that maybe I'm not in the basement anymore. In which case, I must have wandered out somehow into the forest near Aunt Alice's house.
Why the sky is red, I'm not sure.
“You shouldn't be out here,” she tells me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It's not safe, not with the soul auction about to start.”
She looks past me for a moment, as if she's worried that I'm being followed, and then she turns to me with a furrowed brow.
“Are you lost?” she asks.
“No,” I lie.
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
“Because you look lost,” she adds.
“Well, I'm not.”
“Huh.” She pauses, before stepping back and folding her arms across her chest. “So where are you going, then?”
“Back upstairs.”
“Excuse me?”
“Back up to tell my mother and my aunt about what's happening down here.”
I wait for her to admit that she's impressed, but she simply stares at me.
“There's a whole lot of wrong going on down here,” I continue, in case she's struggling to understand, “and it has to get cleared up as quickly as possible. As soon as I find the stairs, I'm going to march up there and make sure that this fiasco is blown wide open. And all the people down here, like Duncan and that old hag, are going to be in real hot water.”
“You've met Duncan?” she asks.
“Briefly. But that doesn't matter. If I were you, I'd get out of here pronto.”
With that, I turn and start making my way back along the corridor.
“Hey kid,” the woman calls after me, “do you know the way?”
I stop and glance at her. “I'm sure I'll find it soon,” I tell her.
“Well, sure,” she replies, “but... I could just show you instead.”
“Do you know where the stairs are?” I ask, with a flash of hope in my chest.
“Oh yeah,” she continues, “of course I do. I mean, this... basement... I mean, it's pretty big n'all, and I totally understand how you could get lost, and it's not like Duncan would ever help you. But I'm a nice person, and I care, and I would be only too happy to show you straight to the stairs so you can go up and talk to whoever you want to talk to.” She pauses, before coming over to me and reaching out a hand. “My name is Matilda. And your name would be...”
I hesitate for a moment, but then I realize there's no point being shy. This woman is clearly honest and decent, so I shake her hand. As I do so, I'm really shocked by the number of bright rings she's wearing, and by the jewels that are set into each of them.
“My name's Milly,” I tell her. “Can you please show me the way to the stairs now?”
“It's a bit of a trek,” she replies.
“I suppose I've been wandering for a while,” I mutter.
“Cheer up,” she adds, putting an arm around my shoulder and steering me along the ledge that runs past the edge of the precipice. “You're in safe hands now, little girl. Trust me, I wouldn't lead you wrong.”
“Why's there such a deep pit near Aunt Alice's house?” I ask, looking over the edge and still not managing to see the bottom.
“Beats me. You'd better ask your aunt, I guess.”
“And why's the sky red?”
“Isn't it always red?”
“It's usually blue.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “Well, again... Ask her.”
“I will” I tell her, “when I get back upstairs. You know, since you're being so nice to me, I'll make sure that Mummy and Aunt Alice let you off.”
“You will?”
“They'll be tough on the others who're trespassing, but I'll tell them that you've been good.”
“That's sweet,” she replies. “Now be careful here, 'cause there's quite a drop if you lose your footing.”
Looking ahead, I realize that 'quite a drop' is a real understatement. The path narrows, clinging to the rock-wall on one side and affording only a basic ledge. The ledge overlooks a drop into the precipice, and I instinctively stop in my tracks.
“Isn't there another way?” I ask.
Matilda turns to me. “Sorry, honey. We have to do this.”
“But I didn't walk along a narrow ledge on the way here,” I point out, “so why should I have to do it on the way back. There must be another route.”
“Oh, well... I'm sure there is,” she continues, “but I don't know it. I guess you could wander around for hours and hours, trying to find the way by yourself, but it'll be a lot quicker if you just let me lead you this way. And I promise you'll be fine. You're a smart kid, aren't you?”
“I'm very smart,” I tell her.
“So what's the problem?” Smiling, she takes my hand in hers. “Come on, let's go. I promise it'll be fine. There's no way I'd ever suggest taking this route if I thought there was even the teeniest chance of anything bad happening. The trick is just to not look down, okay? Keep looking straight ahead, and don't think about the massive drop.”
I want to ask again if there's maybe another route, but I suppose I can already guess the answer.
Not wanting to seem like a baby, I keep hold of her hand and let her lead me along the ledge. At the same time, I try to follow her advice and not look down, although once we're about halfway I have a moment of weakness. Glancing down, I momentarily feel a little dizzy as I see the massive drop that's just one wrong step away.
“Nearly there,” Matilda says calmly. “You're doing great, Milly.”
Once we get to the other side, I realize I've been holding my breath. I step away from the edge and across a larger, rocky platform, at which point I spot what looks like a small camp. There are bed-sheets on the ground, and several more sheets are hanging from
posts that have somehow been erected with their bases in the ground. It looks as if this Matilda woman has really started to make herself at home, which seems somewhat rude considering the fact that she was in a stranger's basement, and that we're almost certainly still on Aunt Alice's property.
“Oh, darn it,” she mutters, stepping past me and then stopping with her hands on her hips. “I can't travel anywhere until those thing are dry.”
She turns to me.
“While I pack up the other things,” she continues, “would you mind giving my sheets a wipe?”
“With what?” I ask cautiously, not really relishing the idea.
“Just grab a cloth and beat the moisture off,” she explains, before reaching down and picking up a small, dirty cloth towel, which she then tosses over to me. “It doesn't have to be perfect, but you'd really be helping me out of you could get those things ready to hit the road. They're kinda valuable and I've been hoping to sell them when I finally get to another city. Believe it or not, those things can fetch a pretty penny.”
“I'm sure they can,” I reply, forcing a smile as I head over to the sheets.
As I get closer, however, I see that these sheets are in fact a kind of pinkish-red color, and they have a series of thin red lines running through the fabric. There's a nasty smell in the air too, but I suppose I just need to get on with the job so that we can leave as quickly as possible. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Matilda is starting to pack up her things, so I turn back to the sheets and start using the cloth to wipe them clean. To be honest, this meager little cloth is completely inadequate, and all I really manage is to smear some kind of light red liquid against the cloth's fabric.
“How are you doing over there?” Matilda calls out.
“Fine,” I reply. “I think.”
“Don't forget to do the other sides.”
“Of course not,” I mutter, before figuring that I might as well just get this done.
I continue wiping the first sheet for a while, before heading around to the other side. To my surprise, however, the other side turns out to be very pale, with a few reddish spots here and there and – to my even greater surprise – some patches of hair. I step closer and start wiping the surface, but now I can see that the 'fabric' actually has a lot of hairs on its surface, almost like...
