"Think we're the first ones here."
"Looks like it." A woman. "Oh, here comes Eric."
Okay, not ghosts. Worse. I leaned into the hatch to call for Jeremy, then froze, picturing the open door just a few feet away. Feeling my way out, I went through the curtain, then slid behind the half-open door.
"Where's that light switch?" the woman asked.
"Beside the front door."
"Ah."
I eased the storeroom door shut with a quiet click.
"Let there be light. Hey, Eric..."
As the voices continued, I hurried back to the trap door, hands out again, feeling my way in the pitch blackness. As the curtain tickled my fingertips, I paused. Should I lock the door first? I hadn't felt a locking mechanism when I'd closed it. Did you need the key to relock it? Or, worse, did it engage automatically, and I'd just locked us in?
No time to check. I pushed past the curtain, then pulled up short as I envisioned myself falling through the hatch. I crouched and felt my way forward. A flicker of light from below answered my question. Before it disappeared, I found and gripped the opening, then I ducked my head into the hole.
"Jeremy?" I whispered.
My voice echoed in the chute. No answer came from below.
More laughter and more voices from the shop. Why
were people coming here after midnight?
Uh, probably because the shop's owner is the head of a sex cult. They wouldn't hold their meetings Saturday afternoons at the library.
"Jeremy?"
My whisper bounced around again in the chute, swallowed by bad acoustics.
A voice sounded just outside the door--the door to the storeroom containing the magic and bondage gear needed for a proper sex cult meeting.
I found the ladder. Took two steps down. Paused. Maybe they'd go for drinks or something first. Loosen up the inhibitions. Always worked for me.
Keys rattled, then slid into the storage room keyhole. I grabbed the hatch lid with one hand and the rug with the other, and closed the door as I pulled the rug over it. It wouldn't be perfect, but it should pass a casual glance.
I hurried down the ladder, my toes somehow managing to keep their traction until I reached the bottom.
The roving light swung my way. I raised my finger to my lips and hurried forward, my heels clicking on the concrete. I stopped to yank them off. When I lifted my head, Jeremy was beside me.
"People," I whispered, pointing up.
A soft curse. He looked up, as if straining to hear, then shook his head. The floor must have been too thick.
"Hmmm, what have we here?" a voice whispered in the dark.
I jumped, but Jeremy seemed unperturbed. I took the flashlight from him and shone it around. A heavyset, middle-aged man with a receding chin walked through a stack of boxes, his gaze fixed on me.
"A redhead. Very nice."
"Who are you?" I whispered.
The man stopped, squinting, as if trying to figure out who I was talking to. Jeremy looked down at me and frowned.
"Ghost," I whispered.