Tomb's Tale

by Amanda McKinney

  And then nothing.

  She waited, holding her breath.

  A minute ticked by.

  What the hell?

  She took a deep breath, raised her gun and in her head, counted—

  One, two, three!

  She jumped into the hall, only to find herself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Before she could catch herself, she released a squeal that sounded something like a cross between a parakeet and a newborn piglet.

  She wasn’t sure if she was more surprised by the gun in her face or the sound that came out of her.

  Her hand shook as she aimed at the dark figure in front of her.

  “Drop the gun.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Chief Cage?”

  The gun that was pointed directly in-between her eyes quickly lowered. Still pointing hers, her mouth gaped open. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  He slowly reached forward, gripped her gun and pushed it down. “I’m sorry, what? My ears are still ringing from that noise you squawked out.”

  A wave of embarrassment mixed with the fear and adrenaline that was coursing through her veins.

  “What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice raised. "Jesus, I could have shot you!”

  A pained look crossed his face. She took a quick inhale to ease the pitch in her voice, which apparently, he didn’t appreciate.

  She clicked her tongue, irritably. “It’s ten-thirty at night." She waved the gun in the air. "I thought you were an intruder.”

  He reached for her gun. “Here… why don’t you just give me that?”

  She cocked her head and shoved the gun into the back of her pants. “What? Afraid of a girl with a gun?”

  “Your reputation precedes you, Miss Knight.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she had more important questions to ask this massive man standing in her hallway.

  “I repeat, it’s ten-thirty at night…”

  “I’m here doing exactly what I told you I’d be doing. I told you I’d call you when we were done investigating.”

  “But you guys were packing up when I left. Didn’t you call off the investigation for the night? And where the hell is your car? I might have been a bit more prepared if I’d seen a damn vehicle when I pulled up.”

  “I came back. Had a buddy drop me off. How’s your back?”

  “Fine. So, what? You’re just going to call a cab or something to get back home? I don’t know where you’re from, but there’s no cabs in Devil’s Den.”

  “I come from a town smaller than this, sweetheart.”

  Her eyebrows tipped up.

  “I’m going to walk home.”

  “Walk?”

  “There is walking in Devil’s Den, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Look, as much as I’m enjoying this little tit-for-tat, you can go home if you want.” She turned and began walking through the dining room. “By the way,” sarcasm dripped from her voice. “You find the cause of the fire, yet?”

  He followed her into the kitchen. “That’s why I’m still here.”

  She stopped and turned. “Nothing, huh?”

  He crossed his arms over his thick chest. “Not yet.”

  “Your investigation’s pointless, Chief Cage.”

  “Weston.”

  “Seriously.” Annoyed now, she looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “It was obvious by your expression earlier that you don’t believe my theory.”

  “Your theory that a witch blew up your kitchen.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “That’s right.”

  “I don’t not believe it. I’ve heard the rumors about this town... even before I moved here.”

  “Like I said, you’re wasting your time.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I’ll determine the cause of the fire as I see fit. Witch or no witch.”

  She sighed. “Alright, that’s your decision, then. I’ll stay out of your way until you officially determine that you cannot determine the official cause of the fire.” She bent down and picked up a broken dish, with bright flowers and gold stems decorating the cracked rim. “Oh, my God.” She shook her head and under her breath whispered, “My mom’s china.” Tears threatened to sting her eyes, and she quickly cleared her throat and turned around, focusing on the plastic rippling in the cool evening breeze.

  Get ahold of yourself, Roxy. She took a deep breath, feeling his stare on her back.

  A moment passed, and she heard his footsteps, then felt his presence directly behind her.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you.” His voice was low, sincere.

  She nodded, still gazing at the windows. “It’s okay. I’m jumpy… not myself tonight.”

  “I understand.” He paused as if searching for the right words. “I’ll head out to give you some time in here… but before I leave, I’ve got a quick question if you don’t mind.”

  She turned.

  “Do you have the key to the basement door? I’d like to take a look around down there tomorrow morning.”

  “We don’t have a basement.”

  He squeezed his eyebrows together and nodded to the corner of the room. “What’s that, then?”

  Roxy followed his gaze where just beyond the crumbled bricks that used to be the pizza oven was a small, silver trap door.

  CHAPTER 5

  Weston watched her as she stepped over the mounds of debris, quickly making her way to, what apparently was a secret door in the floor of her kitchen.

  The moonlight outlined her curvy body as she put her hands on her hips and gazed down.

  He took a second to soak up the view and felt a flush of heat rise through his body. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his damn life. And apparently, one of the richest, too.

  He looked her up and down.

  She wore tight-fitted, faded blue jeans tucked into black leather boots… except the jeans weren’t faded naturally, more like perfectly scuffed and buffed to appear worn. If he had to guess, somewhere on them were those shiny little jewels that decorated expensive jeans these days. And her black leather boots weren’t boots really, more like something a sexy vixen would wear, with those three-inch heels and all. And to top it off, was a sweater made of what looked like the softest material, like a cloud or something, hugging her curves. Definitely not good ol’ cotton. Cashmere, maybe?

  Her long, black hair was knotted on the top of her head, disheveled in the most perfect way, like she’d just spent the entire evening having sex. And those big, almond-shaped eyes framed a beautiful porcelain face with the sexiest, full, pink lips he’d ever seen.

  Yes, Roxy’s reputation preceded her, along with the rumors of her beauty.

  She wasn’t the girl-next-door beautiful. No, Roxy was an exotic beauty. Timeless.

  Exquisite.

  The type of beauty that made him want to throw her over his shoulder and show her a thing or two about getting dirty.

  She turned, looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. “What the fuck?”

  An exotic, timeless, exquisite beauty with a mouth of a sailor.

  He made his way across the kitchen. “I found it earlier today. Got a hell of a lock on it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” She started to squat down and winced.

  He grabbed her arm. “Whoa, seriously, are you okay?”

  “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath. “Yes, just… sore.”

  He eased her down and joined her, holding the lantern above the door.

  “It’s a combination lock.” She leaned forward, and he caught a light floral scent on her skin. Probably a five-hundred dollar bottle of perfume from Italy, that she'd grow tired of in a week. Not like the bottle of Old Spice he'd had in his cabinet since the nineties.

  He nodded. “Yep, and an old one at that.”

  “Did you try to open it?”

  “No. How the hell would I know the combination?”

  She shot him a look,
then sat back on her heels and looked around the kitchen. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” She pushed off the ground and disappeared out of the room. A minute later she returned with a gigantic sledgehammer.

  He stood, raised his eyebrows. “That’s quite a tool, young lady.”

  She grinned. “Thanks. Scared?”

  “I’m scared of you holding it.”

  She handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  He took it from her hands and cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to bust open that lock?”

  “Yep.”

  “Right now?”

  “Don’t think you can do it?”

  He gripped the thick wooden handle, tossed it in his hands to gauge the weight. The thing could plow through a brick wall. “Alright.” He turned his back to her. “Get back.” When she didn’t, he looked over his shoulder, “Seriously, Roxy, get back.”

  He waited until she was safely across the kitchen, until taking a deep breath, raising the hammer and—

  Whack!

  The lock cracked in half.

  Roxy briskly crossed the room, a sense of urgency in her face, as if she knew something big was going to come from this discovery.

  He squatted down, cleared off the broken pieces of metal, and looked up at her, noticing her chest rising and falling heavily. “You alright?”

  She feverishly nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just… I never knew this was here.” She then narrowed her eyes at him. “And if you ask me if I’m alright one more time I’m going to send that sledgehammer right between your legs."

  Yep, she was alright.

  She looked back at the lock, her mind racing. “I don’t… I mean, what could it be?”

  He gripped the handle. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  A second passed, and finally, she nodded.

  He reached back into his belt and grabbed his gun. “Better safe than sorry.”

  She grabbed hers, too. “Agreed.”

  The heavy trap door squeaked as he heaved it open. The smell of wet, moldy earth wafted up from the ink-black hole. Together they leaned forward and peered down.

  “Stinks.”

  “Yeah, it’s a hole in the ground.”

  “Do you always have to be such a damn smartass?”

  He grinned. Roxy Knight was feisty—and feisty was good. “There’s just something about finding a secret room that does it for me.”

  “Well, keep it in your pants, will you? And shine that damn light down there.”

  His grin widened and he reached back, and held it above the hole, illuminating a rickety staircase with cracked, rotted wood that led down to a dirt floor. He guessed the ladder was about ten feet long.

  “Creepy.”

  “Stinky and creepy. You’re quite the poet.”

  Ignoring him, she inhaled deeply, shoved her gun in her belt and gripped the sides of the three-by-three hole.

  Weston blocked her with his arm. “Oh no, no, no, dear.”

  “No, what?”

  “Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie?”

  “Oh, so you think I can’t handle whatever’s down there because I’m a girl?”

  “No, having met you now, I have absolutely no doubt you could handle whatever’s down there. But my mama would have my hide if I let you down into a dark, ominous hole in the earth first.”

  “Your mama?”

  “That’s right. Always honor your mama.”

  The corner of her lip curled up, and he realized it was the first time she’d sincerely smiled. Well, almost smiled.

  “Get back. I’ll go down first and holler up when you can come down.”

  “Alright, dear, I’ll wait up here, with bated breath, for you to invite me down to a room in my own house.”

  He smiled. “Perfect. See? That wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

  She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled as he turned, angling his body above the hole. “Here we go.”

  With his gun in one hand, he gripped the side of the door with the other and carefully—very carefully—placed his size fourteen foot on the first rotted step. He held his breath as he released his weight.

  It held.

  Phew.

  He descended onto the next step, and the next, and the next. “Okay, hand me the lantern.”

  She lowered the light to him, and he held it up and looked around. The gold orb of light only illuminated about a five-foot radius around him, which was all dirt—dirt floor and dirt walls with stained wood beams supporting the walls and ceiling. He shook his head—talk about a structural hazard. It was amazing that the kitchen floor above hadn’t caved in.

  “What do you see?”

  “Dirt. A shit-load of it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You mean, ghosts, zombies, witches?” He could practically feel her eye roll. “No, just dirt.”

  “Let me down.”

  “Hang on, let me get all the way down first.”

  “Hurry.”

  He glanced up at her hovering over the hole and caught a glimpse of her cleavage. Oh, dear God. He cleared his throat—stay on task, Weston—and descended down the staircase. He set down the lantern and positioned himself beside the ladder. “Okay, come on. Nice and easy.”

  After a second of shuffling, she began stepping down the ladder. He was momentarily paralyzed by watching her curvy, perfect little ass swaying from side to side above him.

  Dammit, get ahold of yourself, Weston!

  He lightly grabbed her arm and guided her down the remaining steps.

  She stepped onto the ground and looked around. “Oh, my God.”

  “Yep.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “Looks big.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  He handed her the lantern, and with a firm grip on his gun, said, “Stay right beside me. It’s not structurally sound, to say the least.”

  With wide, doe-like eyes, she nodded.

  She was so damn cute.

  Focus, Weston.

  They started walking across the dark, dirt space, although, as he looked around, it appeared to be more like a tunnel, really—about six feet in width, and no end in sight.

  “Any idea why there’s a tunnel under your house?”

  “No.” Her voice cracked.

  He grinned and looked over at her. “You scared? Or just hit puberty?”

  “Give me a break, okay? I just found a freaking tunnel under our office not five hours after a witch tried to blow up my sisters.”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll even admit… this is creepy as hell. Makes me think we should have grabbed a garlic necklace before we came down… or… what’s that green stuff they used in Ghostbusters?”

  “Ectoplasm.”

  His eyes rounded as he looked at her. “Oh, dear. You better watch yourself, Miss Knight.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Nothing brings me to my knees faster than a woman who knows her cheesy eighties movies.”

  “I have a feeling it doesn’t take much to be brought to your knees, Mr. Cage.”

  “That’s Chief Cage to you, darling, and what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  She slid him the side-eye. “Nothing. It’s just not a stretch to imagine you having a lot of women in your life.”

  “Oh yeah? Elaborate.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re what? Six-foot-three with massive muscles and an all-star quarterback face, and have dedicated your life to saving other people’s lives. I’m pretty sure that’s most women’s aphrodisiac.”

  “Is it yours, Roxy?”

  She raised her eyebrows and started to deliver a smartass response, but stopped. He grinned. He was throwing her off her game—her pedestal. Good.

  Just then, she stopped cold. “What the hell is that?” She raised the lantern. The light reflected off a tiny stone room, ten feet ahead.

  He adjusted the grip on his gun. “Looks like the end of the tunnel.”

  “Looks like a freaking tomb.”

&n
bsp; He looked over his shoulder where the tunnel faded into total darkness. “Okay, now I want you to get behind me, and stay behind me, you understand?”

  “For the sake of saving an argument, yes, okay.”

  “Hold the light up. Get close. Let’s go.”

  She stepped behind him.

  “Closer.”

  He waited until he could feel her almost touching him, then raised his gun and pressed forward.

  His stomach tickled.

  Something was in that room, every instinct in his body told him so. His pulse started to pump faster as he walked to the edge of the stone doorway.

  Together, they stepped inside and Roxy gasped as the lantern fell from her hands.

  Not three feet in front of them lay the corpses of two human skeletons.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Oh, my GOD.” Roxy covered her mouth and repeated, “Oh, my God.”

  Weston lowered his gun. “Holy shit.”

  Before she could catch herself, she stepped closely to him and grabbed his T-shirt. Her heart pounded in her chest. “I can’t believe it… who could this be?”

  “Whoever they are—were—they’ve been down here a long-ass time.”

  “It takes, what? Decades for a body to fully skeletonize, right?”

  “Definitely a decade, for sure. I wouldn’t say multiple decades in their case because they aren’t in a coffin. They’ve been exposed to the elements.”

  She frowned, shook her head. “My parents bought this house just before we were born—so, thirty-three years ago. They must’ve been here before then. Otherwise, my parents would have found them.”

  “Who owned the house before they bought it?”

  She released the death-grip she had on his T-shirt and blew out a breath. “I have no idea. I know that it sat vacant for a while before they purchased it. It was in pretty bad shape, which is why they did a full remodel.”

  “A remodel? Well, they didn’t rip up the kitchen floor.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Her mind reeling, she slowly stepped up to the skeletons, stopping at the feet. “They’re definitely adults, or, not kids, at least. The one on the left is significantly taller than the one on the right.”

  “Adult and teenager, maybe?”

  “Or, man and woman.” She cocked her head, already switching to detective mode. "Hand me that lantern."