Page 44 of Eldritch

Another smile played with her mouth, then fully blossomed. “You had to know. A lot of women admire a man with a military background and the cop credentials are icing on the cake for some women.”

His gaze tangled with hers, took her in with both interest and curiosity. Yet there was something more intimate inside that look, and it washed over her in a warm wave. As if he understood her on a level that went beyond the surface.

“I think she was flirting with me,” he said. “I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “I shouldn’t be talking about her like this. She’s one of my employees.”

His eyebrows went up. “You’re right. It’s a bad habit of mine. I’m nosy and want to understand everything, just like you.”

“Maybe you should grab that private investigator license. Let’s investigate this cellar.”

Even as she said the words and turned toward the door, she hesitated, and her stomach tightened. She wouldn’t touch the door the way she had that night to understand what was down there. What might be down there. No.

She inserted the key in the lock, opened the door, and the hinges made the slightest squeak.

“That’s a good sign.” She turned back to glance at him. “It doesn’t sound much like a haunted house cellar door.”

He smiled. “Ah, but we haven’t gone into the cellar yet. Who knows what will happen down there.”

She threw him a smile even as an icy chill ran over her skin, and for a moment she almost balked like a spooked horse.

Come on. You’re afraid of a lot of shit, but you’ve never been afraid of this kind of stuff before. Don’t start now.

It was pitch black down the steps, so she flicked on the light switch to the right inside the door. A bright light flooded the stairway.

“Here we go.” She kept her voice light, forcing a cheerfulness she didn’t feel.

The wooden steps creaked twice, but not enough to make her think they might collapse. At the bottom, she looked right and noted another light flooding the wide and long area. The flooring was a combination of dirt and stonework.

“Wow,” he said as he came up beside her. “It’s huge. It’s like a horror movie cellar. Look at all this stuff.”

She took it in quickly as they advanced forward. Antique-looking cabinets stored bits and bobs, including old books, candlesticks, a toolbox, three stools, an old mirror against one wall. Numerous cardboard boxes were stacked against one wall on the right side after a set of shelves and cabinets.

Doug stopped to examine something, and she continued. Her breath came faster than she wanted the farther she went into the cellar. Dust and cobwebs covered everything.

She quickened her steps. “There’s more down here.”

Sure enough, a corridor to her right brought her to the threshold of another extensive area. More antiques, more clutter. She continued to walk and look at the objects, but her gaze fixated on the large furnace at the end and a medium-sized table sitting on its own across the area from the furnace. A dark wood box, measuring about eight by ten inches, was on the table at hip level. The box was plain except for a weird octopus like carving on the top and in the center.

Her breathing quickened. She tentatively touched the box.

A wave of knowing hit, much like what had overcome her when she’d touched the cellar/basement door for the first time.

Sensations invaded her. A crawling, awful, hateful dread.

Cold. Hard. Secret. Uncanny.

Raw fear sliced deep into her, the likes of which she’d never experienced before.

She snatched her hand back. Gasped.

The lights went out.

Chapter Eight

“Shit,” Sybil whispered.

Time seemed to stop. She stared into the Stygian darkness and the silence felt as thick as a living presence.

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