Page 40 of Brutal King

I follow him out of the dining room, past the kitchen and to that narrow stairwell I’ve been too chicken to explore. It’s dark, even while the sun is out.

Peeking in, I raise my eyes upward, to where the stairs ascend in a spiral, and down as they disappear to a level beneath us.

“Where do they lead? The dungeon?” I ask sarcastically, hesitant to enter.

“Basement.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.” When I don’t move, he extends his hand. “Trust me, you’ll like what I’m hiding down here.”

“Bodies?”

Not waiting for me to comply, he snatches my wrist and tugs me down. As we go, a light automatically turns on, then another and another. They illuminate the space as we go.

The basement is made of concrete floors and walls, basic and nondescript as we emerge into a foyer of sorts. To our right are two steel doors, both with electronic key panels.

“What’s in there?” I ask him.

“The bodies.”

I narrow my gaze on him. “Wouldn’t surprise me if that’s true.”

We continue on, into a short hall. It’s humid in here, the air smelling like water. When we go through an archway, I see why.

“You have a pool?” I pause to take in the beautiful grotto.

The water, a light teal, reflects off the glass tile mural on the ceiling. Pillars rise from the pool and form pointed arches above, lending the place a Romano-gothic sort of feel.

“This is beautiful,” I remark, fancying a swim all of a sudden.

“I’ll order you swimsuits,” Gideon says, once again reading my mind. “You can come anytime you’d like.”

Now that I know the lights will come on automatically, I will.

“Do you have a map of the house?” I ask. “I’ve apparently been missing out on the best parts.”

“I’ll draw one for you. You can go anywhere you’d like.”

“Anywhere?”

“If a door is locked, don’t try.” He points to the doors we passed earlier. “Otherwise, have fun.”

Though I’d love to stay here longer, I also want to see what surprise he has for me. We continue beyond the pool room and other interesting spaces, such as a billiards room and gym. Finally, at the end, we reach another steel door. This one doesn’t have a lock.

He props it open for me and motions me to enter through a set of black vinyl strip curtains. I go through, pushing the heavy things out of my way, and stop when I see why they’re needed.

“What is this?” I ask, dumbly.

“You’re a photographer. Don’t you know what it is?”

Of course I know what it is. I practically lived in a dark room. Though rustic in comparison to the one at Columbia, it has everything I’d need to develop film. To the right are shelves full of chemicals, gloves, aprons, and eye protection. To the left are a sink and a counter with trays. Two wire lines with clips to secure developed photos hang above that.

So no, I don’t need an explanation of what this is all for.

“I’m asking…” What am I asking? What this is supposed to mean? Is it a peace offering? “Is it Belle’s library?”

He frowns. “Belle’s library?”

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