Page 65 of The Biting Bargain

"Just wanna check how he's doing," I mutter as I put my phone away and head for the door.

It's not locked. So far, Vincent has never needed to lock anything from me. One word was enough. A sharp little thrill that I am disobeying tingles through me as I step into his study.

It is dark, a little old-fashioned and immaculately organized, just like its owner. At the far end is another door. A small hammering in the back of my head urges me to go on.

The door leads into another empty hallway filled with vast echoes and lots of nothing. Dull silver moonlight seeps through the blinded windows. I tiptoe on bare feet across the cold floor until I reach a narrow spiral staircase at the end of the hallway.

It leads down.

Far down.

With a pounding heart I descend the stairs, while every few steps on the wall small LED lights flicker to life, guiding my way.

"Just checking to see he’s okay," I whisper under my breath, as if I need to convince myself. But by now the urge to see him is stronger than any reasonable thought.

I always through myself straight at the walking, talking red flags, huh, Polly?

No idea how far down I've gone, but eventually I reach the end of the stairs and another corridor that seems to stretch under the entire mansion, lit by the eerie glow of yet more LED lights that come on like illumination in an airplane hangar. It's chilly down here. I shiver in my T-shirt and shorts, but I grit my teeth and keep walking.

The corridor branches every fifty yards or so, and each time the urgent feeling inside me takes direction, deciding whether to follow right or left. My steps quicken, I get closer, a visceral certainty running down my spine with an icy shiver.

And just when I think, what the hell am I doing here, I hear the snarl. Guttural and so low that I sense it within my body rather than hear it.

That's when I see the door.

A massive steel panel door, looking like it was built to withstand heavy artillery fire, towers over me. It is locked with several strong bolts.

The growling grows stronger. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

He's here. I suddenly know it as surely as things fall down and water is wet.

As if on cue, the growl turns into a pained, barking howl that echoes through the hallway. Behind the steel door, there’s a crashing and clanking as if something huge and furious were throwing itself against massive steel chains.

Any sane person would bolt at this point, if not sooner. And fast. But I stand frozen, staring, while the thrashing and howling continues inside.

Then I reach out for the door. My fingers slide over the top steel latch that locks the door.

There’s no lock.

I pull the latch free. I have to exert some force, but it slips free with a metallic clack. Immediately, howls and growls explode behind the door, chains clank and rattle, but I'm caught in a trance, opening the next massive latch, pulling it out of its fixture with a jerk. And the next. And another.

It is exhausting. They are stuck, rusty. I tear my fingers bloody. Until the last bolt gives way with a creak and releases the door at last.

I grab the handle, brace myself against the steel and pull the door open.

The growling stops abruptly. Chains clank on the stone floor. Gingerly, I step over the threshold. The room is in dim twilight. A cell made of stone.

"Vincent?" I ask cautiously, my voice trembling slightly.

If this were a horror movie, I'd probably have ten seconds left to live. And rightly so. If I were watching this movie, I'd be sitting in front of the screen with my hands in front of my face, blinking in horror between my fingers.

A dull rumble uncoils from the far corner of the room. Two amber coals flash in the shadows, and then the wall of darkness explodes in front of me and a roaring werewolf pounces on me.

I scream. I fall on my ass. I crawl backwards. But a steel claw closes around my ankle and pulls me into the shadows.

A massive fist stomps on my collarbone, just below my throat, knocking the air out of my lungs. I gasp. Feel claws scratching along my neck.

"I told you to stay away."

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