F. Wilson - Secret Circles

“No sign of Narnia,” he said.

“I wish .”

He glanced at her. “Big enough for two.”

She shook her head. “I couldn‟t stay in there. It‟s too …”

“I thought Eddie was the claustrophobic one.”

“He is. But hiding in there in a dark cellar in the Lodge of all places … I don‟t think I can. I need to be someplace where I can hear and see.”

Urgency propelled Jack as he flashed his beam around. Behind the armoire sat a low, wide, sturdy-looking table with what appeared to be Chinese lettering along its edges. It was backed against a leather couch and its other side rested against the rear of a bureau, leaving only one side open.

He focused his beam on the space beneath. “How about under there? If we scrunch up way toward the rear we should be really hard to find.”

Weezy stared for a heartbeat or two, then nodded.

“Okay. But you first.”

Swell.

But he understood: ladies first—unless there might be spiders.

He knelt and did a quick inspection. No black widows hanging out, just a thick layer of dust and some cobwebs. He crawled under, and Weezy followed. Jack turned out his flashlight and Weezy did the same. Side by side, with the pyramid sitting between them, they crouched in the cramped, cool darkness.

Weezy whispered, “How will we know—?”

The lights came on.

Weezy grabbed his hand and squeezed.

9

They waited. And waited. It was becoming excruciating—physically as well as

emotionally.

Physically because Weezy was squeezing his hand so hard his fingers were going numb.

Emotionally because the light had come on and stayed on and no one had come downstairs.

Was Eggers or Mr. Drexler standing at the top and listening? Jack wanted to whisper to Weezy to ease up on his hand but didn‟t dare. Didn‟t want even to breathe, but had no choice in that.

Finally it came: footsteps on the stairs.

Someone with a heavy tread—had to be Eggers—stomped down to the basement and began

stalking its aisles. Weezy squeezed even harder as the footsteps approached. Jack saw black shoes and black pants cuffs appear and stop right in front of their table.

Eggers. Mr. Drexler was wearing his usual white suit when Jack had last seen him … not quite an hour ago.

Not daring to move his head, Jack glanced at Weezy out of the corner of his eye. Her face was ashen and her eyes were squeezed shut. She wasn‟t breathing. But then, neither was Jack. He could feel the sweat gathering in his armpits.

The shoes moved on but Jack didn‟t dare let out the breath he‟d been holding, not until they‟d faded to the other side of the room. And then he let it out really, really slowly. He noticed Weezy doing the same. She looked at him with a terrified expression.

Did she really think the Order would harm them if they were found here?

Apparently so.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps headed back upstairs. The light went out and the door slammed.

Jack felt Weezy relax and begin to move. He quickly touched her face in the dark, found her lips, and put a finger against them. When he felt her nod that she understood, he began extricating his hand from hers. That done, he put his lips against her ear and spoke in the softest voice possible.

“Don‟t speak, don‟t move.”

She nodded again.

After another eternity—probably ten minutes—he dared a whisper.

“Okay. I guess he‟s really gone.”

He felt her stiffen. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if it had been me, I would have turned out the light and closed the door from the inside.

Then I would have waited on the landing and listened to see if anyone moved down here.”

She let out a breath. “I‟m glad whoever that was isn‟t like you. But what do we do now?”

“We wait.”

“How long? How will we know when he goes?”

Jack almost said, You mean , if he goes , but thought better of it.

“We‟ll be real quiet and listen for the back door slamming.”

He didn‟t know if that was possible. These walls were thick—he could barely hear the thunder.

He kept that to himself. She was already scared enough.

10

Jack guessed that twenty minutes more had passed. If not for the tense circumstances, it might have been nice being squeezed next to Weezy like this.

He‟d heard more footsteps on the other side of the ceiling, and then, maybe ten minutes ago, a sound like the back door slamming. After that, all sounds ceased. He hadn‟t heard the car start, but that didn‟t mean anything, considering what lay between them and the rear driveway. Only one thing to do.

He turned on his flashlight.

“Wait here. I‟m going to check upstairs.”

“No, Jack. He could still be up there.”

“Yeah, he could. But we can‟t stay here forever.” He crawled out from under the table and reached a hand toward her. “Might as well come out.”

She turned on her flashlight and shook her head. “I‟ll stay here till you come back.”

“Okay. I‟ll put the lights on when I pass the switch.”

“Do you think you should?”

He shrugged. “No windows down here, so no one outside‟s gonna notice. Neither will anyone up there. Be back in a few minutes.”

I hope.

He found the light switch at the top of the stairs, but didn‟t flip it on. Not yet. He needed to peek onto the first floor before that.

He bent until his line of sight was at floor level. No light filtered beneath the door. Dark out there.

Good.

Grasping the knob, he twisted it as slowly as he could until it would turn no more. Then, praying the hinges wouldn‟t squeak, he began to push the door open—also slowly—until the edge cleared the frame.

Still no sign of light, so—

He jumped as a flickering flash of white lit up an area to his left, quickly followed by a roar of thunder. He turned on the basement lights before slipping out the door and easing it closed behind him. Bad enough leaving Weezy alone and afraid down there; at least she wouldn‟t be in the dark.

He looked around. No sign of life or man-made light here on the first floor, although the lightning flashes were frequent. Rain blew in torrents against the windows. The storm had hit full force.

But an empty first floor didn‟t guarantee an empty second. He peered up the dark stairwell. No noise or light from up there either.

He took off his sneakers and glided in his socks to the back door. He sagged with relief when he saw no sign of the Bentley.

Mr. Drexler and Eggers had gone.

But just to be sure … just to be absolutely sure, Jack eased up the steps and made a quick, nerve-wracking pass through the second floor. As he wandered the lightning-strobed hallway, a parade of horror film scenes—especially someone or something jumping out of a darkened doorway—flickered through his mind. But his search came up empty—just the way he‟d hoped.

No longer afraid of making noise, he hurried down to the first floor and opened the basement door.

“Hey, Weez!” he called. “All clear!”

She didn‟t answer.

“Weez?”

Still no answer.

Oh, jeez. Oh, no.

With his blood feeling as if it were congealing in his veins, he slipped back into his sneakers and crept down to the brightly lit basement.

“Weez?”

He ran to the table where they‟d hidden and looked under it. He found her flashlight and the pyramid, but not a trace of her.

“Oh, God—Weez!”

“I‟m right here,” said a voice behind him.

He whirled and saw her head sticking out from under the table opposite theirs.

“Don‟t do that to me!”

She puzzled. “I didn‟t do anything.” She crawled out, dusting off her hands. When she regained her feet she pointed to the space she‟d just left. “Look what I found.”