The Eye of the Wolf

by Sadie Vanderveen

  She turned her back to him, but stood still. She willed her feet to move forward, into the house, but something kept her there. Something she didn’t understand.

  Will leaned against the glass of the door and gently turned her face towards him. “Mikayla, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Falling for you,…that was the last thing I had in mind when I started this.” He swallowed and met her eyes as gentle tears trembled on long lashes. “Wanting you has cost me more than you will ever know.”

  “No, Will, wanting you has cost me more than you can replace with fancy words and I’m sorries.”

  “I know that you don’t trust me, but please, understand, things in Amor…” He paused and looked over her shoulder to the Secluded City shining brightly in the cheerful sun, mystery and murder hidden within its golden spires and solid walls. He looked back into her eyes and released her chin. “Things in Amor, Mikayla, are not always what they seem. People are not always who them seem.”

  Mikayla shook her head and slid open the door next to her. She looked at the man leaning against the glass, her heart aching as his eyes bored into her. Tears sprang to her eyes and filled her voice. “I would prefer it if you didn’t come around here or the Hall of Records any longer. I can finish on my own. I can’t prevent you from being there, but I would ask that you leave me in peace, please.” She slid the glass door closed and disappeared into the house.

  Will stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Mikayla!” The door closed as he reached it, and she was gone. His palm left an imprint on the glass and he rested against it. A shuddering sigh escaped him as he leaned his forehead on the glass. Legally, he knew he could enter the house, force her to talk to him, but ethically, he knew he had no right.

  Will lifted his head and stepped away from the glass. On the table sat the perfect rose, its petals fluttering in the breeze. He looked back at the glass that only reflected his own image now. “I love you.” He whispered before turning and walking away, down the sand.

  Mikayla watched him go from the window seat, disappearing into the shimmering light. As he disappeared from view, a sob that had been held back too long escaped from her lungs. Her body heaved until long after it was empty. Spent, she crept to her bedroom and crawled onto the bed that had held her and her lover, lost in a world that couldn’t hold them.

  Chapter 17

  Mikayla rested her hand on the cool metal of the door knob for the cellar door. She hesitated to open it, to venture into the dimness of the cellar, but she knew if she didn’t, she wouldn’t rest. She was positive that whomever might have been in the cellar the night of the storm was long gone now. She had been in and out of the house many times over the past few days. However, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t still investigate. How come, then, her grandmother’s old saying, “Curiosity killed the cat” continued to run through her brain even as she slid the lock and turned the knob.

  Her mind flashed back to her conversation with Dejeune just days before. She had reported the break-in. His response had startled and confused her at the time. Now, it raised her senses. He had said all the right words, but his eyes had been hidden, his tone flat. Promises of an investigation and reimbursement made, but something had chilled Mikayla bringing back Will’s words that things weren’t always as they appeared.

  The knob turned with a creak, and…

  …cool air rushed towards her, swirling around her and lifting strands of hair from her face. Suddenly, she remembered being in the dark after a draft from somewhere had blown out her lantern. When the lights had turned on, no windows had been open. Had it been a breeze from the cellar door opening that had left her in the darkness, alone and afraid? The thought had nerves jumping beneath her skin and a sick feeling welling in her belly.

  Mikayla straightened her spine and wished the sickness away. It was the middle of the morning. The sun was shining brilliantly outside and promised that the remainder of the day would be absolutely perfect. This was the perfect time to venture into the dark cellar, where spiders and mice built webs and nests. She shivered at the thoughts of all of the creepy critters that might be living beneath the floor of her humble house. At that thought she turned to walk away. This could wait another day, or even forever.

  She sighed as her hand brushed the diary tucked safely in a new backpack slung over her shoulder. She had no more research or even her notes if she didn’t find what had been stolen. If she didn’t follow her instinct, she might never find what she was missing. She lifted her chin, adjusted the pack on her shoulder, and swung the door wide allowing the sunlight to filter in. lighting the gloom.

  Mikayla craned her head over the stairs and looked down. The stairs disappeared into darkness as they twisted down. She pulled the hefty Mag-Light she had found under the sink out of her pack and flicked the switch. She took one deep breath and stepped in, following the wall with one hand as she took the creaky, rotting stairs one at a time.

  The air smelled musty and rotten. She pushed a hand through a web that stretched across the staircase, feeling the silken threads clinging to her skin. She stifled the half-panicked scream that bubbled up inside as she flicked the spider across the room. She banked the need to shiver. The stairs creaked beneath her slight weight, threatening to fall out from beneath her. Her hands followed the wall as she continued down into the belly; moss clung to the walls making it velvety to the touch.

  Mikayla shone her flashlight around her as she reached the bottom step. The ceiling was low and covered in generations of spiders’ webs. Pipes and electrical cords ran through the open ceiling allowing for access to the inner workings of the main floor. Dried garlic, onions, and peppers hung from hooks in the beams that seemed to have been there since the house was new based on the mold that glowed in the dim light.

  Her light swept over the floor before stepping off. She was reminded that the house was on the beach and most beach dwellers wouldn’t have a basement because of the water table when the floor disappeared into six inch, murky water. It was a miracle the entire house didn’t disappear when the tide came in.

  She used her light to scan for anything that might hamper her way through the water. She gave a brief thought to taking off her tennis shoes and decided against it. There was no telling what horrific microbial organisms were living within the waters.

  Mikayla swept her light one more time around the cellar and then plunged into the water. It rose above her ankles, cold and muddy, swirling around her calves as she waded through. She shuddered at the thought of water that had settled in the cellar of an old house touching her skin, but moved on. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she knew there was something here, something out of the ordinary, something that would provide a clue to the disappearance of her materials.

  Mikayla moved the beam of light around the cellar, shining it in the corners and startling an obese rat who sat on an upside-down, rusted coffee can munching on a piece of rotted vegetable. He gave a squeak and dived into the water causing Mikayla to scream and jump back to the bottom step of the staircase. Her light danced across the water as her heart returned to normal.

  Once she was sure he had found a crack to swim back out to sea or had found some crevice to hide in, she stepped back into the water with a hearty groan as her shoes squished with water. She stepped through the water, moving her light along the walls, looking, always looking. She was starting to feel that perhaps there was nothing in the cellar except her imagination.

  “You’re crazy, Mikayla. There’s nothing here.” She murmured to herself. She turned her flashlight away from the mossy walls and turned to climb the stairs feeling disheartened and not very successful for her first foray into the world of mystery solving. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flickering.

  Mikayla jerked her head around and squinted through the gloom. There was nothing there, just a living wall enjoying the damp environment the cellar provided. She turned back to the staircase and again saw a faint flickering from the corner of her eye.
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  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Mikayla exclaimed as she sloshed through the dingy water to the wall. Her voice was muted by the living creatures covering the walls. She stared at the moss, waiting for the flickering. Nothing moved.

  Mikayla stepped away and then felt the hair on the back of her neck stir slightly, like a gentle summer breeze had blown through the room, lifting the tendrils in a dance. She froze. Slowly, she turned and stepped closer to the door, holding a delicate hand in front of her. She could feel air moving, as if through a crack in a window, and when she held still, she could hear the faint whistle of the wind.

  Where was the air coming from?

  Why is there water in the basement?

  Why is there a basement to a house that is on the beach of an island?

  Who had come into her home and taken her research?

  How had they disappeared without a trace?

  Why had they taken her research? What had she discovered that was so precious to not be trusted in her hands?

  She stared at the wall, her mind whirling but no answers to the limitless questions. She chewed on her top lip, pondering, waiting for inspiration to strike. She looked for a door handle, knowing that was too obvious therefore impossible. She shoved hair out of her face with an impatient gesture that until recently, until Will, she hadn’t even known she did.

  Mikayla frowned. Why had he jumped into her mind right at that moment, right when she was faced with something out of an Indiana Jones movie. She smiled slightly before sighing heavily. Will had jumped into her mind because she knew this was the exact thing he would have loved. He would have pointed out that at that moment, history was turning into some sort of treasure hunt or archeological adventure that her classes certainly hadn’t prepared her for.

  But, Mikayla was an avid movie watcher, and she loved Indiana Jones. She squared her shoulders and tried to think like Indiana Jones. She almost wished she had the leather jacket, whip, and hat that went with the character. She knew there was no ancient treasure on the other side of the wall, but maybe there was something exciting, like a tomb or something else that no one was supposed to see.

  She stepped back, moving her feet slowly, giving herself time to move her head from place to place, side to side, up and down. To get a good look at the wall. When she stood several feet away, she could see the faint flickering of light and feel the slight movement of air, yet, when she moved close to the moss, the light disappeared and the wind changed, no less intense but different in some way.

  Mikayla stepped back to the spot where she had been when she originally felt the movement of air. She stood still and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to go silent except for the thought of where to look. In her life, she had discovered that often, when looking for something that was missing, such as keys or her bag, closing her eyes and visualizing helped to locate the missing item.

  Now, she stood straight, waiting for inspiration to strike. There was silence except for the faint whistle in the air. She opened her eyes slowly as the image from a book she had read once came to mind. The character had been in a basement, looking for a secret door. He had found the door but struggled with the switch. In the end, it had been a jar of peach preserves that hung on the door.

  She grimaced as she looked at the green moss glowing in the light of her flashlight. She hoped it wasn’t having to scrap the moss away that was the secret handle. She sighed again and looked up. Above her head hung a rotted strand of chili peppers. She stared at it until her eyes crossed. It was simply a strand of chili peppers as she had seen in many Mexican restaurants in her life. There was nothing unique about the rotted food. It hung from the ceiling as others did, drying over possibly centuries.

  Mikayla continued to stare at the peppers even though she didn’t know why she continued to stare at the peppers. Something pulled her eyes upwards, forcing her to shine her light above her. It was then that it struck her like a fist into the stomach.

  There were no other chili peppers drying on the rafters of the cellar.

  The other foods consisted of vegetables and fruits such as cucumbers, apples, tomatoes, and so on. Mikayla rose up on her toes, training her light on the peppers. It was then that she saw the rope attached to the pepper chain.

  With a scowl, she grabbed the peppers and yanked down on them as hard as possible. She let go when a loud, grinding reverberated from the wall. She faced the wall and waited, her breath caught in her throat, her heart barely beating.

  The moss shimmied slightly as the stone beneath it began to swing in. Ripples in the water turned into small waves as the heavy stone pushed against the small ocean in the cellar, widening the opening, allowing the light from the passage to shine brightly on Mikayla’s stunned expression. The wall ground to a loud stop.

  She stared at the opening, large enough for Andre the Giant to have slipped through unhindered. The wall stood in place, water lapping at its base. It was almost a foot thick, solid granite. A door sill prevented the water from rushing into the passage that was hidden behind the wall.

  Mikayla stepped to the door sill and peered into the passage, her hand rested on the inside of the door, where no moss or spiders resided. The passage was narrow, stone walls rising from the floor to the ceiling, which was also stone. Brightly lit torches were ensconced in the stone, casting eerie shadows but cheerful, flickering light. A staircase carved from the granite rose into darkness as the ceiling tilted away at a sharp angle. An obese rat with black eyes sat peacefully on the bottom step, staring at her as his eyes twitched.

  Mikayla shuddered and began to back into the room. Her nerve that had pushed her to investigate had suddenly deserted her. Where she had thought she was crazy or paranoid, there was now fact, her courage failed her. After all, she was only a college professor. She wasn’t an adventurer. She wasn’t a private investigator. She was a college professor who enjoyed reading about other people’s lives because she couldn’t seem to live her own.

  It was then that her eyes fell on the silver zipper pull in the shape of a Georgetown Hoya. The Hoya glinted in the torchlight begging for recognition.

  Mikayla snatched up the backpack. She pulled it open and peered inside.

  Empty.

  She moaned. Part of her had hoped, for one moment, that whomever had snuck in had abandoned his crime, had left her at least the computer. But no, the criminal had taken what he had come for and left her belongings to become food for the rats.

  It was the grinding of stone on stone that dragged her from her thoughts. She spun around just in time to watch and hear the door slam into place, echoing up into the darkness. Another moan escaped her lips. She dropped the bag and pressed both hands against the door, pushing with her entire weight. The door made no movement.

  She looked around the entrance, looking for some sort of handle, a rope, a lever, anything that might open the door back into her world and away from this place that she knew she wasn’t meant to know about. There was nothing. She even lifted a torch from its bracket on the chance that that was the way to open the door. Nothing.

  She was trapped. Trapped, unless she took the chance and began to climb the stairs that wound through the rock.

  “Well since Indiana Jones got you into this mess, what would Indiana Jones do next?” She asked herself, her voice sounding larger than life in the small cavern. If she stayed put, she would die and someday someone who was as stupid as she was would find only her skeleton. If she climbed, at least there was a chance the passage went somewhere since there were fresh torches lighting the way.

  She grabbed her pack from the floor and shoved it into the bag that already rested on her back. She grabbed the flashlight from the corner where it had rolled after she dropped it.

  “Indiana Jones would climb.” She stated matter-of-factly and began a slow ascent up the circular, stone staircase. It was cut out of the rock, a single piece, carved probably by hand, centuries before. It went on and on, torches placed in the wall to light the way of the trav
eler. It was a skinny path that only the smallest of persons could have traveled, certainly not the Andre the Giant she had envisioned when the door had swung inward.

  It seemed she had been climbing forever, but there was no end, only darkness above her. Her breath hitched slightly and her heart beat faster as she climbed on wishing for some end. Her nerves jumped across her skin. She had no way of knowing where she was climbing to and when she would get there. She had no way of knowing what the original purpose of the passageway had been, or what its current use was. What if she met someone along the way? What if she was discovered by an unsavory character, like the one who had stolen her research? What if she was discovered by the person who had stolen her research? What would happen to her?

  Mikayla braced a hand against the wall and stopped climbing as she felt herself begin to hyperventilate. She lowered herself to the step and leaned against the wall. It was cool against her back, which was soaked with the rewards of her physical exertions. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, briefly willing herself to wake up if this was some sort of weird nightmare. Fear was laced with a type of adrenalin she had only felt once in her life. The night she had made love with Will.

  A small tear carelessly trailed down her cheek. She wished he were there, grinning from ear to ear about what a fine adventure this was. Snapping her picture as she looked her absolute worst. Conjecturing about what was at the top of the staircase.

  Her heart ached with the thought of him, and she longed to feel his strong arms holding her again. His hands caressing her. The fire between them. The tenderness within him that she knew he possessed. His voice singing softly words of love in her ear. Her anger had subsided and left her only with grief and wishes. She wished that she didn’t love him even though she knew, deep inside, she did, regardless of the impossibility of it.