Page 18 of TBR: Dead But Well Read

If they wanted a book to raise the heat level in their bedrooms… I had a list of titles capable of creating phantasmic orgasms.

But if they wanted trained backup while taking on an enemy force, they needed to look elsewhere. Heck, I was dead because I was easily spooked and struggled to think clearly during moments of panic.

Yet there I was, floating around the storage room, searching for the guys.

But they weren’t there. Where else could they be?

An animated string of squeaks from the back wall caught my attention. “Wasabi? You okay, bud?”

I found him sitting next to a large opening in the floor. “That’s odd.”

The trapdoor had been designed with attention to detail, and unless you knew it was there, it would have been impossible to find. So how had the guys found it? I’d gotten the impression from Rhodes and Lochlan that they weren’t familiar with the town.

Bending over, I looked down the dark tunnel, then backed away. “Nope. I don’t care if the creepy crawlies down there can’t touch me, I’m not doing it.”

Hadn’t the guys ever watched a horror movie? This tunnel was exactly the type of place you weren’t supposed to explore if you valued being alive.

But I had one thing going for me. I was already dead.

Standing there, I stared down into the hole. It was the stuff of my old nightmares and it might as well have been Hades as far as I was concerned.

I backed away several feet, but instead of easing my anxiety, it had the opposite effect. With each centimeter of distance I placed between the hole and me, my trepidation grew.

My hair lifted around me, and static crackled in the cold air. Wasabi’s breath looked like smoke billowing from a dragon’s mouth.

They were in trouble. I didn’t understand how I could possibly know that, but I was absolutely certain it was the truth.

Questioning my sanity and why I cared so much, I slowly descended into the tunnel.

As I reached the bottom, I sniffed the stale, moldy air. The tunnel had been built using bricks, several of which had worked themselves free and tumbled to the stone floor.

There wasn’t a nightlight or torch in sight, and I thanked my unlucky stars for my ability to see just fine in the dark. Turning in a slow circle, I tried to figure out which way the men had gone.

I was standing in the middle of a cross point in the tunnel, and needed to pick which of the four paths to follow.

“Ahhh!” I screamed as a ghost stepped through the crumbling tunnel wall to my left. “You are supposed to announce yourself with some soft bangs or moans!”

The ghost either didn’t hear me, or he was too dead to care about anything other than getting to wherever he was going.

Excitement bubbled in my chest. I knew how to find the guys. Darting down the tunnel after the specter, I crossed my fingers that he was leading me there.

My ghost guideled me deeper into the tunnel. At times, the path was so narrow I wondered if Rhodes’ wide shoulders had even been able to squeeze through it. Some portions were wide enough that a vehicle could’ve driven through it.

Traveling deeper into the dark passageway, I looked for any clues that had been left behind that might hint at what the tunnels had been used for. But thus far, I’d found nothing of interest.

Currently, my working theory was that they were likely used for traveling unseen between locations or maybe to transport alcohol during prohibition. While history hadn’t been my favorite in school, I think I would’ve remembered learning about a secret society with enough money to build extensive tunnels beneath the city. How many people in town were aware of the maze of passages running beneath their feet?

Amberwood had been a farming town from its founding, and those who lived there were known for watching out for each other. But clearly there was more below the surface of the town—pun intended.

At last, the vibrations of low male voices echoed down the tunnel. The male ghost picked up his pace and blurred down the tunnel. I followed, hot on his heels, torn between wanting to pass him and knowing I needed to follow him and help the collectors get the information they needed.

With each second that passed, it became harder to ignore the steady thrum of my anxiety as it turned to a thundering beat. Over and over, a single word chanted in my head.

Death. Death. Death.

The knowledge of what lay ahead of me should’ve had me tucking my tail and running for my life. But I wasn’t afraid of death.

If given a choice, I would’ve chosen to live. Life was beautiful. It held endless possibilities, and every day provided a chance for a new beginning.

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