“Yeah, she’ll probably stick us in one of the coffins,” said Pep with a shudder.
There was a long trail of stories about the coffins being one of Cookie’s favorite punishments for her children when they were younger. I wasn’t sure any of us really believed the stories, but we also didn’t want to take the chance.
“Maybe we should just hold off for a couple of days and do a tactical analysis,” Pep suggested.
“You’re kidding, right?” Lark scoffed.
“We need to plan and prepare. We can’t just run in there and hope for the best,” Pep argued.
“Sure we can! We’re about to,” said Lark. “You can’t go without us, that’s all,” she insisted, looking at me. “No way you get to have all the fun.”
I sighed. “All right, you can come, but we have to go now.”
“Right,” said Lark.
Pep shifted nervously.
None of us moved.
“It’s not going to open by osmosis,” said Harold.
All three of us jumped.
Harold was a le-haunt who had joined us less then a year ago. He loved all things circus- and theater-related, the performance, the attention, and everything else that came with being part of the haunted house. He was kind and funny and loved the mansion. My mom thought he’d been a real find.
“You’re encouraging us?” I asked, glancing between him and the firmly closed door.
“Not officially. Lark is right, your mom is scary, but something has to be done. All of us here at the house are worried, and if anyone is going to solve this mystery, it’s going to be you three, not some outsider.”
Was that a veiled insult directed toward Grant? Or maybe not so veiled?
“Are you sucking up to us?” Lark asked.
“Most definitely,” Harold confirmed. “Is it working?”
“Kind of, yeah,” Lark laughed.
“Have you been down there?” I asked.
Harold shuddered. “Certainly not. You think I want to risk my neck?”
“Comforting,” said Pep. “I think this is a terrible idea, but I don’t see any way around it.”
“Always so positive,” Lark muttered, running her fingers through her short, dark curls. “Let’s get this over with.”
With that she marched forward and grabbed the doorknob, but just as she took hold of it, something moved in the corner of my eye.
We had an audience. Several le-haunts, ghosts, and skeletons had come to see us off. They all looked like they were going to a funeral, and since they’d all attended their own, I felt like that was saying something.
“We’re going to be fine,” said Pep. But her face was white.
“Good luck,” whispered Harold.
Steve had turned up as well, and he waved goodbye as if he was never going to see us again.
Lark stepped forward, grabbed the door handle again, and pulled. At first nothing happened, but then the old white door swung open and a burst of warm air hit us squarely in the face. The basement was warm, at least that was something. I hated creepy, cold basements.
“Let’s go,” I said, glancing back at our send-off party. “We’ll be back soon.”
I tried not to look at any of the faces too closely as I said it, because I knew none of them believed me.
We were just about to close the door behind us when there was a scuffling sound.
“Wait, take this,” Harold said, reaching out with a torch that looked like it was several hundred years old. It was ornate and metal and bits of it were starting to rust.
At first I recoiled in surprise. “Where did you find that?” I asked.
“It’s what was on hand,” he said.
I shook my head. Of course.
I took the torch and examined it. At least the lighter in the middle looked new. Harold reached out with a match and lit it, and the next instant warmth was covering my face.
“Now you’re ready,” said Harold.
“You really think we’d ever be ready?” I asked.
“I strive for positivity,” said Harold. “Way to ruin it.”
I gave him a small smile and turned away. Lark and Pep were still standing at the top of the stairs, neither looking inclined to go forward. All I could see beyond them was blackness.
My cousins parted slightly so that I could walk between them. As the one with the light, I was going first.
Down Below had already been taken over by the time I was born and growing up, so I had never once been in my own home’s basement. Stories of danger abounded. Now we were going to find out whether they were true.
The stairs were surprisingly wide, crafted of a plain wood and covered in a layer of dust that revealed the markings of footsteps. That someone had climbed up to the door, and recently, fit with the fact that I had seen the Spooky Times beneath the door.
With a gentle current of air blowing upward, the snap of the door closing behind us didn’t surprise me at all. I knew that Harold wasn’t going to lock us down there, but I still listened for the turn of the bolt. When it didn’t come, I was relieved. I knew several of the ghosts and skeletons would wait for us to return—if we managed to return at all.
“Are you sure about this?” Pep whispered.
“Not at all,” I said.
We moved down the stairs with care. I kept looking at my foot before taking a step to make sure I wasn’t going to land on something gross, but the stairs were clear of anything that might have tripped us up. The walls on either side were made of stone, and there were small chinks missing where water had dripped through. The foundation was made of large slabs of stone that looked melted together, but that I knew had just formed a smooth surface in the long years since the mansion had been built.
“I’m surprised there isn’t a large welcoming committee,” Lark muttered.
“You think they heard the door?” Pep asked nervously. Her voice echoed off the walls.
“I’m sure they did,” I said. “There probably isn’t a guard because it’s been so long since anyone came down here, so what would they be afraid of, anyway?”
“If you asked Lizzie, she’d say they should be afraid of His Majesty of Magic,” Lark rolled her eyes.
“I still don’t think he’s real. Grant is probably just lying because he likes the attention,” I said.
Next to me, Pep was silent.
Moving downward felt like forever, but it really didn’t take that long.
I was expecting a dirt floor when we reached the bottom of the stairs, but instead we found layers of rugs. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised about that, either. Before Down Below was created the basement had been used for storage, and there had probably been a large selection of rugs to spread around.
I examined the layers, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“I keep expecting something to jump out at us, or blood to drip from the walls,” Lark said.
“I actually think it’s quite nice so far,” said Pep. The place was warm and nicely carpeted and clean, which at this point was more than you could say for the rest of the mansion. We were in a small space that was kind of like an entry hall, and there were doorways to our right and left, but no doors.
There were also no lights in either direction, but I could hear noises from the left. Since the basement entrance was on the right side of the mansion, most of the space was to the left, so it didn’t surprise me that this was where a gathering was taking place. I also heard the churning of a machine, maybe (I thought) the Spooky Times printing press.
The breeze was stronger now, and the flame guttered but held. My heart skipped a little. If the flame went out we’d be entirely in darkness, and I didn’t care how pleasant Pep thought this place was, there was no part of me that wanted to be down here without a light.
“To the left we go,” said Lark.
We were just about to pass through the doorway when a shadow stepped in front of us and we stumbled to a halt.
“Just where do you think you’re going?�
�� a skeleton in a topcoat asked, brandishing a long sword.
We had found Down Below. Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
Chapter Twenty
We had dealt with any number of skeletons over the years, but this one looked especially old.
How does a skeleton look old, you wonder?
Well, newer skeletons’ bones are whiter and cleaner. Older skeletons show the wear and tear of time passing by the color of the bones, which get darker and more brittle-looking as the years go by.
This skeleton had the dirtiest-looking bones I had ever seen. Whenever he moved they creaked, and he was moving right now because he was swinging his longsword.
“What are you doing with that thing?” Pep demanded.
The skeleton stopped moving. “What do you mean?” he asked, taken aback by the challenge from such a small human. Pep had that effect on, well, skeletons.
“That’s an important historical artifact you’re swinging around willy-nilly. You can’t just be walking around with it,” Pep said.
“But it looks cool,” the skeleton argued.
“You better take care of it,” said Pep.
“I will,” the skeleton assured her, looking confused.
“Fudgy Bail?” I said.
The skeleton sputtered but regained his composure quickly.
“You can’t just prance down here and see Fudgy,” the skeleton replied.
“Why not?” Pep asked.
The skeleton opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. He obviously didn’t know why not either.
“Well, because you’ve never been here before,” he said at last.
“There’s a first time for everything. What does that have to do with anything?” Pep demanded.
“There’s a protocol for such things,” he said after another pause.
“How can there be a protocol if it’s never happened before?” Pep said.
“It’s not as if a human has never come down here before,” said the skeleton.
“We aren’t humans, we’re witches,” I said.
“Oh, right, okay.” The skeleton was getting more confused by the minute.
“Who else has come down here, anyway?” I asked.
The skeleton clammed up at that, realizing he had said too much.
As we waited for an answer, Pep crossed her arms over her chest and started tapping her foot impatiently, which clearly made the skeleton even more uncomfortable.
“Oh, very well,” he said with exasperation, and turned back the way he came. He narrowly missed bumping the sword into one of the stone walls and quickly glanced at Pep to see her giving him a dark look.
I hadn’t gone one step before I realized that Down Below really started through this doorway. The clanging of the press was louder, as was the laughter.
“This is going to be interesting,” Lark said.
On either side of us were little rooms with open doorways. The walls in each room were covered with designs, and in front of those were piles of furniture.
“Do you ever wonder if one of our ancestors collected antiques?” Lark asked.
“I have a feeling it was Lady Oakley,” I said.
“That makes SO much sense,” said Pep.
As we passed the nooks and hollowed out spaces, skeletons, ghosts, and one or two le-haunts came to peer around unfinished door frames to stare at us. They looked different from their counterparts upstairs. These supernaturals were less chirpy, and they wore clothing that was darker but otherwise nicer than what the ghosts who worked at the haunted house wore. These supernaturals didn’t have appearances to keep up, so they dressed in fine garments. Down Below was not what I expected at all.
“You think he was referring to humans who’ve been down here recently?” I whispered to my cousins.
“I have a feeling it was Cookie. If there’s trouble, she’s always close by,” said Pep quietly.
“Maybe it was your mom,” Lark suggested. “There has to be a reason why we’ve gotten along so well with Down Below all these years. I have a feeling we’ve been told stories as kids to try to scare us, but the reality is different.”
I thought about that. My mom had been coming down here on a regular basis my whole life? I supposed it was possible, but the idea certainly required a re-examination of my impressions of the last couple of decades.
“Right this way,” said the skeleton.
When we reached what I thought was the end of the basement, the skeleton started bowing toward the doorway to our right. Dim light filtered through it, and next to the doorframe the skeleton indicated a sconce where I could leave my torch while we went inside.
I could hear laughter and the clink of glasses. There was definitely merriment in progress.
“This place gets stranger and stranger,” said Lark.
I glanced behind us to see the countless doorways stretching back down the hall. In each one, several ghosts and skeletons were peering out at us. When I looked at them, their heads quickly disappeared.
“They’re so nosy,” sniffed the skeleton. “I’m Peter, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Pep. She introduced each of us in turn, and as Peter stretched out his bony hand, each of us took it and shook it gently. I felt like I was shaking claws, but it clearly made him happy.
From inside the room a booming voice called, “Stop distracting our guests and let them in. It isn’t every day we get a visit from witches.”
Looking a little sour about having his new friends taken away, Peter nodded and walked past us. As we were going through the doorway he said to someone in the hallway, “I know! It’s very exciting that we have visitors! I can’t wait to tell you the story.”
The three of us exchanged looks and smiled. Peter apparently also liked gossip.
I don’t know what I was expecting when I walked into this last space, but a card table with two skeletons, two ghosts, a vampire, and a le-haunt was not it.
At the head of the table sat one ghost, larger than the other ghosts and wearing several layers of gold chains around his neck. A cigar dangled from his mouth. When he saw us he set down his hand of cards.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a Garbo herself,” he said, leaning back and puffing.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” I said. My eyes moved nervously from right to left. If we were in danger it would be now.
“No disruption at all. We love guests here,” said the ghost, his voice booming and jovial. “I’m Fudgy Bail.”
“Jane Garbo, and these are my cousins, Pep and Lark,” I said.
“These are my associates,” said Fudgy, nodding toward the other supernaturals at the table. They were all dressed splendidly, each wearing some sort of large jewel. They set down their cards while they waited for us to continue our conversation, and it was only now that I saw what they were playing with: gold coins. I wondered if they were real.
“What can I do for you?” Fudgy asked. The only light in the room came from a dim lamp in the corner, perfectly placed to cast a shadow over Fudgy’s face and make him seem all the more intimidating.
“There have been some mishaps upstairs,” I started slowly.
“You mean the Skeleton Trio and the other attacks?” he asked.
“So you know,” I said. A haze of smoke filled the room, tickling my throat and making my eyes water.
He and his associates all chuckled. “Of course we know. What goes on upstairs directly affects downstairs. We keep tabs on all sorts of things. I knew when you came back and I knew things would be different from then on,” he said.
“How will they be different?” I asked, wondering how my presence figured into any of this.
“Times are changing,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I suppose you came down here because you think the trouble is coming from Down Below?” He didn’t sound angry at the implication, but I knew I still had to tread lightly.
“I thought it was a possibility,” I acknowledged, f
eeling that it was best to be honest.
“I’m glad you came down,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it gives me a chance to tell you directly that nobody from Down Below has anything to do with what’s going on upstairs,” he said. “I would never allow it. We have a good thing going here and there’s no reason to ruin it.”
“It would be difficult for us to get upstairs without detection given that there’s just the one door,” added one of his associates. The light flickered over his face and I found his facial expression hard to read.
“That’s true,” said Pep.
“Is there anything you can tell us that might be helpful?” Lark asked.
Fudgy Bail paused for so long that I thought he might not have heard the question, but eventually he spoke.
“The trading of information is very important,” he said. “Some might say it is sacred. Down Below we have our own set of rules and our own way of doing things, but I can tell you this, everyone knows how important information is.”
We waited, knowing what was coming.
“What I mean by that is that maybe I have some information, but why should I give it to you?” he asked.
Lark was about to reply when Pep cut her off. “Because whatever is going on upstairs, even if it doesn’t have anything to do with you now, it’s only a matter of time. Whoever is smashing up skeletons will eventually come Down Below. For all we know, that’s the ultimate goal of the whole campaign.”
The ghost turned his old eyes on my smart friend and smiled. “Maybe it will come here and maybe it won’t. Still, I’m very good at making deals. I wouldn’t be in the position I hold if I didn’t know that there’s always a deal to be made. And I’m less afraid of what may come than you might think.”
Pep stepped forward, her eyes intense. “The skeletons were smashed, completely smashed. There was nothing left of them.”
Some of the associates shifted uncomfortably and glanced at their leader, but his face remained impassive.
“There is no reason for me to help you. Trouble has not come here and it may never,” he said.
“So you do know something?” Pep prompted.
He briefly closed his eyes, visibly annoyed. When he opened them he leaned forward and said, “I know everything you know.”
Spooky Business (Jane Garbo Mysteries Book 1) Page 15
