Forsake Page 11

  Conor gave her a look of frustration. She could tell it wasn’t directed at her, but at the situation. Without responding, he started down the stairs. Nicole immediately followed, not worrying about falling through rotted wood, as these were made of stone.

  Conor’s flashlight revealed a large panel at the bottom of the staircase. Together, they heaved and pushed on it until it finally slid open, revealing the second dining room.

  They looked at each other, realizing they’d missed this passageway. How had that happened? And how many others had they missed?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nicole sank to the floor, her head in her hands. She couldn’t believe they’d missed this passageway. Her arms and legs shook. She hadn’t had enough food, she was dirty, and her body was completely exhausted from everything it had gone through lately. What else was going to go wrong on this trip?

  Conor sat next to her, putting his hand on her arm. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly.

  Nicole looked at him. “Is it? How? How is it going to be okay?”

  He looked around the room, a troubled expression on his face. Obviously, he didn’t know how to reassure her. And why would he want to, anyway? She had no idea who he was or what he wanted. Or even why he’d come with her.

  Conor pulled down his backpack, swinging it in front of him. He opened it up, taking out an apple, which he handed to her.

  Nicole accepted it gratefully, and not even caring that her hands were dirty, ate it. She couldn’t stop sending sly glances at him as he also ate an apple. Was he really concerned for her? She couldn’t imagine so. But she’d never met someone who acted so perfectly—whose story was so spot-on.

  “What else have we missed?” Nicole asked once she’d finished her apple.

  Conor rubbed his forehead and eyes. “I’m wondering the same thing.”

  “Is it even worth it to continue searching?”

  Conor glanced at her, the light from the flashlight he’d set on the floor glinting off his eyes. The expression on his face was solemn. “It depends on how important this thing is you’re looking for.”

  Nicole sensed something under the surface that was bothering him, but she pretended not to notice. “It’s very important, but I’m exhausted. Should we head back to the hotel?”

  Nicole knew that she would do everything in her power to return without him. She would have to lose him somehow.

  Conor shook his head. “It’s an hour walk to the car and an hour drive back. Do you really want to leave right now?”

  “No, not really.” She tossed the apple core through a broken window and wiped her hands on her pants, resigning herself to the sticky, dusty mess that resulted. “But what are the chances we’re actually going to find it?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Especially when we missed this one.” She had no desire to abandon the plan, but even more than that, she didn’t want to be around Conor when she found the effigy.

  He leaned his head against the wall and said, “Well, I think we should at least search the servants’ quarters on the top floor. At that point, we can decide what we want to do.”

  Nicole felt a being stirring the air around them. She glanced at Conor, half expecting him to notice it as well. But apparently, the spirit that was following them didn’t want her boyfriend to know he or she was there. Nicole swallowed, hoping that was a good sign.

  Either way, she was in a bad situation.

  After quenching their thirst with a few gulps of water, they started up the staircase, entering the pitch blackness as it led them upward. Nicole’s flashlight wasn’t as strong as Conor’s, and she had to hit it several times to make the batteries continue working.

  Once they reached the third floor, Conor switched out her batteries for new ones. Nicole thanked him, then led the way down the tiny hall that made up the servants’ portion of the manor.

  Nicole prayed they’d find the entrance to the museum soon. But what would she do once she found it? Could she lead Conor down there? If he was a hound, there was no way she was willing to let him see what she was here for. But if he wasn’t a hound, who was he? And was it possible he wasn’t evil? What if he was just an innocent teenage Arete who really was interested in dating her?

  She didn’t allow herself to entertain that thought for long. There were far too many coincidences—he wasn’t to be trusted.

  To save time, they decided to split up and search the servants’ room separately. Nicole hated the feeling that she was alone, and she was definitely tempted to leave, but not without knowing where that entrance was. She didn’t fail to notice that the slight magical pulse left when Conor did. She almost started crying again, thinking about how badly she’d been betrayed by him. The jerk.

  For a moment, she wondered if she should give up, go home, and come back to England some other day. The thought was only on her mind for a couple of minutes before she rejected it, though. Who knew how much more time they had before the hounds figured out who Lizzie was? She couldn’t risk her best friend’s life.

  They met up again in the servants’ hall—he hadn’t found anything either. She checked the time on her phone. It was almost midnight, and her body and spirit ached, her stomach sick with the dilemma she faced.

  Nicole and Conor looked at each other for several moments. She hoped he couldn’t tell she knew his secret. She was trying to look at him the way she normally would, but given the circumstances, she couldn’t find “normal.”

  “What do you propose we do?” Conor asked.

  Nicole shrugged. What could they do? “Sleep here and begin searching as soon as the sun’s up and we’ve had enough rest. It will be easier once there’s more light—especially natural light.”

  “Where do you want to sleep?”

  Nicole bit her lip. She’d been thinking about that a lot. The whole time they’d been searching, she’d been under the assumption that Conor was a friend, that he was safe, and that being with him meant she wouldn’t be found by the hounds. Or at least if they found her, they wouldn’t be able to approach through a corner because she wouldn’t be alone. Alexander had eluded to the fact that pinpointing her location was very difficult if she was with other people. But now, knowing that he probably was a hound, she realized there really wasn’t anywhere she could go that would be safe.

  The best thing she could do was insist they set up camp somewhere where other hounds couldn’t easily join them, pretend to fall asleep, then continue searching while Conor was out. She only hoped she’d be able to find the entrance to the museum before he woke.

  “Let’s sleep in the cellar,” she finally said.

  Conor’s face, barely visible from their flashlights, showed his surprise. “Why the cellar?”

  Nicole was ready for that question. “It’s the only place that has just one entrance and no windows. I’m not comfortable sleeping in a room that has more than one way into it.”

  Conor stared at her for several moments, obviously trying to decide what he wanted to do. Then he shrugged and said, “Okay, I’m good with that,” and the two of them turned and headed back to the staircase that led to the first floor.

  They’d been on the first floor maybe a couple of minutes when Nicole realized the spirit that had been following them for the better part of the day was no longer there. In fact, it hadn’t followed them up to the servants’ quarters. Where had it gone? Why had it left them alone, and was that a good thing?

  They arrived at the kitchen, and Conor motioned for Nicole to head down the stairs first. She did so, trying not to show that she was freaked out by having him behind her. She heard him moving his backpack, and she almost looked at him, half expecting to see a gun in his hands or something like that. But he was an Arete, and a very powerful one at that—she’d seen what he’d done in the old schoolhouse. He wouldn’t have to use a weapon against her. He could just use his magic.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs without incident. Once they did, Conor reached out and grabbed Ni
cole’s hand, interlacing his fingers through hers. Nicole had to resist the urge to cringe, sure that he would feel it through their grasp.

  She requested that they sleep on the side of the cellar farthest from the entrance. That way, they both had equal access to whomever or whatever might join them during the night—and equal opportunity to run.

  “I know you wanted to stay in separate rooms in the hotel,” Conor said, “but would it be okay with you if we got a little cozy down here?”

  Nicole opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut immediately, realizing she’d almost revealed what she knew about him. No way on earth was she about to get “cozy” with him! The creep!

  Conor must’ve sensed hesitancy on her part. “I promise I won’t try anything—I’m just really not liking this place. It would be nice to have my arms around you during the night.”

  Nicole bit the inside of her cheek, realizing that he might be suspicious—that he might think she was planning on taking off after he’d fallen asleep. If that was the case, she needed to up her game. Get him comfortable again.

  “The cozier the better. I’m pretty freaked out by this place too. It would be nice to have someone close.”

  “Good,” he said, pulling her close and dropping his flashlight and backpack. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling her gently.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nicole hated that her body reacted positively to him. And she hated that she wanted more. It took all of her willpower to keep things casual. She kissed him gently on the lips, then directed her flashlight to the tile floor, pulling away from him. “Where should we camp? And how are we going to do this? The floor is definitely not going to be like sleeping in the Marriott.”

  Conor looked at the broken bottles littering the tile, then glanced at Nicole. “Would you like me to go get some blankets?”

  Nicole thought about that for a moment. “I don’t think so—all the ones I saw were rotted. Who knows what they went through even before the owner died?”

  “What do you propose we do, then?”

  “Use our backpacks as pillows, maybe?”

  Conor nodded. Using his toe, he pushed his backpack up against one of the walls. Then he dropped to the floor and lay on his back on the cold tile, resting his head on the backpack.

  He opened his arms for Nicole, inviting her to snuggle in next to him. Nicole sat down, but instead of joining him, opened her backpack, pulling food out.

  “Good idea,” Conor said, accepting string cheese and a banana.

  They munched in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Once they’d finished, Nicole passed him the last of their water. And they’d just eaten the last of their food. They hadn’t thought about rationing—the plan had never been to stay the night in the manor. She longed for the comfortable bed back at the hotel and her pajamas and a shower and a pizza all to herself.

  Nicole got down next Conor and snuggled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Conor sighed, rubbing her arm, seeming content to have her near. It made Nicole wonder what he thought of her, if his affections for her were actually natural. And what if they were? It didn’t change anything—it couldn’t change anything. He was still a murderer who wanted to kill her best friend. And she was in his arms—in his power.

  “Are you okay?” Conor asked. “You’re trembling.”

  “No, I’m not. This place gives me the creeps. And I still don’t know what I’m looking for really, and don’t know where to find it. I wish I was at home, in my own bed, in clean clothes, with my furniture around me, in the safety of my room.”

  Conor was silent for several moments. Then he said, “I understand. I feel the same.”

  Nicole felt herself questioning her doubts about him. He seemed so normal, so casual, so on her side. Was he really a bad guy?

  Nicole did her best to stay awake after their flashlights were turned off. Hoping it would help keep her from sleeping, she forced herself to stare into the pitch blackness, pretending to count the wine bottles she couldn’t see that lined the shelf opposite her. The fact that her eyes couldn’t tell the difference between being closed and opened made it difficult for her to stay awake. Several times she nodded off, catching herself at the last moment. Conor chuckled once, obviously recognizing that she was trying to stay awake.

  “Relax, Nicole. I’ll take care of us.”

  “Mmmm . . . thanks.”

  She didn’t have any doubt that he would take care of them. But she doubted she would agree with his definition of “care.”

  Nicole must’ve drifted off because sometime in the middle the night, she realized her head wasn’t on his shoulder anymore. She was snuggled against his backpack, and his back was pressed against her arm. It wasn’t comfortable, but she was so tired from lack of sleep that she couldn’t force herself to do anything about it.

  Not long after, Nicole was awakened again when she felt a presence in the cellar with them. She tried to keep her breathing even, tried to hold back the fear that started mounting inside her chest, making her heart want to burst from her ribcage.

  Was it a hound? Was it the spirit? Was she about to be killed?

  Nicole pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could. She stayed that way for several moments, listening to the sound of her breath as it entered and exited her lungs.

  Then she became aware of something else. She couldn’t hear breathing next to her.

  “Conor?” she whispered. He didn’t answer.

  Nicole was alone in the cellar.

  She rolled over, feeling where his body had been before, but was met with only cold tile.

  Panicking, Nicole got to a sitting position, staring down one side of the tunnel, then the other, hating that she couldn’t see a blasted thing. She felt that sensation again—the spirit was still present.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Conor? Are you there?”

  No answer came, but Nicole could hear something shuffling a few feet away.

  She fumbled, trying to find her flashlight. Her hands landed on her cell phone instead. That would have to work. She awakened the screen, pointing its brightness down first one tunnel, then the other. Both halls were empty. But when she turned her phone to face the first hall she’d checked, something was there.

  Nicole shrieked, scrambling backwards, her back hitting the shelf of wine bottles behind her. She directed her phone that way again, feeling her heart race as a scream built up inside her chest. The ghost was standing there. A man, tall and heavy. He stared down at her, an expression of hatred on his face.

  “Please, please leave me alone,” Nicole begged.

  The ghost didn’t move. Didn’t act as if he’d heard her. Just stared.

  Nicole reached around again, feeling the flashlight. She picked it up, turning it on at the same time. She shone the light down the hall where the ghost had been standing. He was still there. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glare.

  “Turn it off,” he demanded.

  “No way.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “How am I supposed to believe that? You obviously don’t want me here.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. I never once said that.”

  “Then why are you glaring at me?” Nicole kept the light trained on his face.

  “You’ve brought great evil here. I can’t forgive that.”

  “Are you talking about Conor? Is he really evil, then? Is he a hound? I know he’s a magical person now, but I swear, I didn’t know it before coming. I trusted him. He . . . he was my boyfriend.”

  The ghost shifted, raising one hand to rest on the shelf next to him. “You didn’t realize who he was? I find that hard to believe. You are, after all, an Arete. Can’t Aretes sense other Aretes’ power?”

  Nicole shook her head. “Not all the time. I haven’t been magical for long—just a few days. And I’ve only sensed magical pulses a couple of times since then. It took me a long time yesterday t
o figure out that the magic I felt was coming from him.”

  “So you didn’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No. Is he . . . is he really dangerous?” She didn’t know why she asked—she already knew the answer. But the ghost could confirm it.

  The ghost didn’t respond for a couple of seconds. “Very. He wants to destroy you—he aches to do it. But the other hounds need to know what you’re here for.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The ghost shifted his position and folded his arms in front of his chest, still staring at Nicole. “I’d like to know what you’re here for.”

  “Where did he go?” Nicole asked, needing to know she was safe from Conor before saying anything.

  The ghost looked over his shoulder, then back at her again. “To the others of his kind. He’s not far away, though. Hounds never are.”

  “That’s something I’m learning.” Nicole finally dropped the flashlight from the ghost’s face, realizing that if he wanted to hurt her, he would have. The creature could light fires, for crying out loud. “How long has he been gone? I want to know how much time I have before he returns.”

  “About thirty minutes. I’ve been watching you sleeping—it surprised me that he left you alone. If he had stayed with you, I would have killed you both.” He grimaced. “Well, I would have killed you permanently and him temporary. Only hounds can permanently kill hounds.”

  Nicole shivered. “So, the fact that he left me vulnerable and unprotected actually saved my life?”

  The ghost didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to.

  Nicole searched the floor, trying to see what Conor had taken with him and what he’d left behind. Her light glinted off the car keys, his wallet, and the other flashlight. “He didn’t take the flashlight?”

  “No. Hounds don’t need light.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Realizing she didn’t have much time, Nicole pocketed the car keys—she needed them to get away if she could escape. She had no idea how she was going to do that, especially without knowing where the entrance to the museum was. She would ask the ghost about that, but first, she needed to know who Conor was, regardless of whether taking the time was stupid or not. Picking up his wallet, Nicole flipped to his driver’s license.