The Eye of the Wolf (28 page)

Mikayla
moved the beam of light around the cellar, shining it in the corners and
startling an obese rat who sat on an upside-down, rusted coffee can munching on
a piece of rotted vegetable. He gave a squeak and dived into the water causing
Mikayla to scream and jump back to the bottom step of the staircase. Her light
danced across the water as her heart returned to normal.

Once
she was sure he had found a crack to swim back out to sea or had found some
crevice to hide in, she stepped back into the water with a hearty groan as her
shoes squished with water. She stepped through the water, moving her light
along the walls, looking, always looking. She was starting to feel that perhaps
there was nothing in the cellar except her imagination.

“You’re
crazy, Mikayla. There’s nothing here.” She murmured to herself. She turned her
flashlight away from the mossy walls and turned to climb the stairs feeling
disheartened and not very successful for her first foray into the world of
mystery solving. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flickering.

Mikayla
jerked her head around and squinted through the gloom. There was nothing there,
just a living wall enjoying the damp environment the cellar provided. She
turned back to the staircase and again saw a faint flickering from the corner
of her eye.

“Oh,
for heaven’s sake!” Mikayla exclaimed as she sloshed through the dingy water to
the wall. Her voice was muted by the living creatures covering the walls. She
stared at the moss, waiting for the flickering. Nothing moved.

Mikayla
stepped away and then felt the hair on the back of her neck stir slightly, like
a gentle summer breeze had blown through the room, lifting the tendrils in a
dance. She froze. Slowly, she turned and stepped closer to the door, holding a
delicate hand in front of her. She could feel air moving, as if  through a
crack in a window, and when she held still, she could hear the faint whistle of
the wind.

Where
was the air coming from?

          Why
is there water in the basement?

          Why
is there a basement to a house that is on the beach of an island?

          Who
had come into her home and taken her research?

          How
had they disappeared without a trace?

          Why
had they taken her research? What had she discovered that was so precious to
not be trusted in her hands?

She
stared at the wall, her mind whirling but no answers to the limitless
questions. She chewed on her top lip, pondering, waiting for inspiration to
strike. She looked for a door handle, knowing that was too obvious therefore
impossible. She shoved hair out of her face with an impatient gesture that
until recently, until Will, she hadn’t even known she did.

Mikayla
frowned. Why had he jumped into her mind right at that moment, right when she
was faced with something out of an Indiana Jones movie. She smiled slightly
before sighing heavily. Will had jumped into her mind because she knew this was
the exact thing he would have loved. He would have pointed out that at that
moment, history was turning into some sort of treasure hunt or archeological
adventure that her classes certainly hadn’t prepared her for.

But,
Mikayla was an avid movie watcher, and she loved Indiana Jones. She squared her
shoulders and tried to think like Indiana Jones. She almost wished she had the
leather jacket, whip, and hat that went with the character. She knew there was
no ancient treasure on the other side of the wall, but maybe there was
something exciting, like a tomb or something else that no one was supposed to
see.

She
stepped back, moving her feet slowly, giving herself time to move her head from
place to place, side to side, up and down. To get a good look at the wall. When
she stood several feet away, she could see the faint flickering of light and
feel the slight movement of air, yet, when she moved close to the moss, the
light disappeared and the wind changed, no less intense but different in some
way.

Mikayla
stepped back to the spot where she had been when she originally felt the
movement of air. She stood still and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to go
silent except for the thought of where to look. In her life, she had discovered
that often, when looking for something that was missing, such as keys or her
bag, closing her eyes and visualizing helped to locate the missing item.

Now,
she stood straight, waiting for inspiration to strike. There was silence except
for the faint whistle in the air. She opened her eyes slowly as the image from
a book she had read once came to mind. The character had been in a basement,
looking for a secret door. He had found the door but struggled with the switch.
In the end, it had been a jar of peach preserves that hung on the door.

She
grimaced as she looked at the green moss glowing in the light of her
flashlight. She hoped it wasn’t having to scrap the moss away that was the
secret handle. She sighed again and looked up. Above her head hung a rotted
strand of chili peppers. She stared at it until her eyes crossed. It was simply
a strand of chili peppers as she had seen in many Mexican restaurants in her
life. There was nothing unique about the rotted food. It hung from the ceiling
as others did, drying over possibly centuries.

Mikayla
continued to stare at the peppers even though she didn’t know why she continued
to stare at the peppers. Something pulled her eyes upwards, forcing her to
shine her light above her. It was then that it struck her like a fist into the
stomach.

There
were no other chili peppers drying on the rafters of the cellar.

The
other foods consisted of vegetables and fruits such as cucumbers, apples,
tomatoes, and so on. Mikayla rose up on her toes, training her light on the
peppers. It was then that she saw the rope attached to the pepper chain.

With
a scowl, she grabbed the peppers and yanked down on them as hard as possible.
She let go when a loud, grinding reverberated from the wall. She faced the wall
and waited, her breath caught in her throat, her heart barely beating.

The
moss shimmied slightly as the stone beneath it began to swing in. Ripples in
the water turned into small waves as the heavy stone pushed against the small
ocean in the cellar, widening the opening, allowing the light from the passage
to shine brightly on Mikayla’s stunned expression. The wall ground to a loud
stop.

She
stared at the opening, large enough for Andre the Giant to have slipped through
unhindered. The wall stood in place, water lapping at its base. It was almost a
foot thick, solid granite. A door sill prevented the water from rushing into
the passage that was hidden behind the wall.

Mikayla
stepped to the door sill and peered into the passage, her hand rested on the
inside of the door, where no moss or spiders resided. The passage was narrow,
stone walls rising from the floor to the ceiling, which was also stone.
Brightly lit torches were ensconced in the stone, casting eerie shadows but
cheerful, flickering light. A staircase carved from the granite rose into
darkness as the ceiling tilted away at a sharp angle. An obese rat with black
eyes sat peacefully on the bottom step, staring at her as his eyes twitched.

Mikayla
shuddered and began to back into the room. Her nerve that had pushed her to
investigate had suddenly deserted her. Where she had thought she was crazy or
paranoid, there was now fact, her courage failed her. After all, she was only a
college professor. She wasn’t an adventurer. She wasn’t a private investigator.
She was a college professor who enjoyed reading about other people’s lives
because she couldn’t seem to live her own.

It
was then that her eyes fell on the silver zipper pull in the shape of a
Georgetown Hoya. The Hoya glinted in the torchlight begging for recognition.

Mikayla
snatched up the backpack. She pulled it open and peered inside.

Empty.

She
moaned. Part of her had hoped, for one moment, that whomever had snuck in had
abandoned his crime, had left her at least the computer. But no, the criminal
had taken what he had come for and left her belongings to become food for the
rats.

It
was the grinding of stone on stone that dragged her from her thoughts. She spun
around just in time to watch and hear the door slam into place, echoing up into
the darkness. Another moan escaped her lips. She dropped the bag and pressed
both hands against the door, pushing with her entire weight. The door made no
movement.

She
looked around the entrance, looking for some sort of handle, a rope, a lever,
anything that might open the door back into her world and away from this place
that she knew she wasn’t meant to know about. There was nothing. She even
lifted a torch from its bracket on the chance that that was the way to open the
door. Nothing.

She
was trapped. Trapped, unless she took the chance and began to climb the stairs
that wound through the rock.

“Well
since Indiana Jones got you into this mess, what would Indiana Jones do next?”
She asked herself, her voice sounding larger than life in the small cavern. If
she stayed put, she would die and someday someone who was as stupid as she was
would find only her skeleton. If she climbed, at least there was a chance the
passage went somewhere since there were fresh torches lighting the way.

She
grabbed her pack from the floor and shoved it into the bag that already rested
on her back. She grabbed the flashlight from the corner where it had rolled
after she dropped it.

“Indiana
Jones would climb.” She stated matter-of-factly and began a slow ascent up the
circular, stone staircase. It was cut out of the rock, a single piece, carved
probably by hand, centuries before. It went on and on, torches placed in the
wall to light the way of the traveler. It was a skinny path that only the
smallest of persons could have traveled, certainly not the Andre the Giant she
had envisioned when the door had swung inward.

It
seemed she had been climbing forever, but there was no end, only darkness above
her. Her breath hitched slightly and her heart beat faster as she climbed on
wishing for some end. Her nerves jumped across her skin. She had no way of
knowing where she was climbing to and when she would get there. She had no way
of knowing what the original purpose of the passageway had been, or what its
current use was. What if she met someone along the way? What if she was
discovered by an unsavory character, like the one who had stolen her research?
What if she was discovered by the person who had stolen her research? What
would happen to her?

Mikayla
braced a hand against the wall and stopped climbing as she felt herself begin
to hyperventilate. She lowered herself to the step and leaned against the wall.
It was cool against her back, which was soaked with the rewards of her physical
exertions. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, briefly willing
herself to wake up if this was some sort of weird nightmare. Fear was laced
with a type of adrenalin she had only felt once in her life. The night she had
made love with Will.

A
small tear carelessly trailed down her cheek. She wished he were there,
grinning from ear to ear about what a fine adventure this was. Snapping her
picture as she looked her absolute worst. Conjecturing about what was at the
top of the staircase.

Her
heart ached with the thought of him, and she longed to feel his strong arms
holding her again. His hands caressing her. The fire between them. The
tenderness within him that she knew he possessed. His voice singing softly
words of love in her ear. Her anger had subsided and left her only with grief
and wishes. She wished that she didn’t love him even though she knew, deep
inside, she did, regardless of the impossibility of it.

He
had left her alone just as she had requested. He hadn’t appeared to work. He
hadn’t stopped by at the Patio for a mindless dinner. The only thing that
reminded her daily of his presence was the appearance every morning of a fresh
rose on her patio’s table.

And
it was that daily reminder of what had been, of what might have been if he
wasn’t who he was that hurt the most. She wished he would just leave her in
peace, forget about her, and return to whatever his life had been before this
affair had begun. She could handle him just walking away; she knew she could.
It was his presence that she couldn’t handle.

Mikayla
flicked the tear away and stood from her resting place. This was not the time
to think of Will, or His Royal Highness as she would have to begin to think of
him. She must find the exit and then, find the fiend whom had invaded her
sanctuary and stolen her belongings.

She
began to climb slowly, pacing herself, remembering that the path would
eventually lead somewhere. Wherever it led, she would handle the end result.
She huffed out a last breath as she reached the top and pressed a hand against
a heavily carved wooden door. She shone her flashlight over the door and was
relieved to see a traditional door knob waiting to be turned. Her light played
across the door as her eyes took in the intricate carving of a wolf baying to
the full moon.

It
was the seal of the royal family of Amor. Had this staircase led to the
Secluded City?