Lord Loss (The Demonata 1)

The cork sinks into the bottle. A loud click. The two halves of the wine rack slide apart, revealing a dark corridor angling gently downwards. I do a quick mental geographical check — it leads in the direction of the sheds.

I act before fear has a chance to deter me. Step forward. Cross the threshold. Advance.

I've taken no more than eight or nine steps when the wine rack closes behind me with a soft slishing sound. I'm plunged into total darkness. My heart leaps. My hands strike out to touch the walls on either side, just so I have the feel of something real. Split-seconds away from complete panic when …

… lights flicker on overhead. Weak, dull lights, but enough to illuminate the tight, cramped corridor.

My heart settles. My eyes devour the light. I smile feebly at myself. Turn and retrace my steps. Examining the back of the wine rack, thinking about how I'm going to get out later. A button in the wall to my left. I press it. The lights flick off and the rack slides open.

I step through to the wine cellar, wait for the rack to close, then open it again and return to the corridor. This time I keep on walking when the rack closes and I'm plunged into temporary darkness. Moments later, when the lights flicker on, I glance up at them wryly and give them a carefree half-wave.

Grubbs Grady — Mr. Cool!

The corridor runs straight and evens out after twenty yards or so. Narrow but high. Moss grows along the walls and ceiling. The floor's lined with a thin layer of gravel. By the moss, I figure this tunnel must be decades old, if not centuries.

The tunnel ends at a thick, dark wooden door, with a large gold ring for a handle. I press my ear to the door but can hear nothing through it. If Dervish is in the room beyond, it'll be impossible to surprise him. I'll just have to cross my fingers and hope for the best.

I take hold of the huge gold ring. Tug firmly. The door creaks open. I enter.

A large room, at least the size of the wine cellar. Sturdy wooden beams support the ceiling. Burning torches set in the walls — no electrical lights. A foul stench.

I leave the door open as I step into the room and study my surroundings. A steel cage dominates the room, set close to the wall on my right. Almost the height of the ceiling, thin bars set close together, bolted to the floor in all four corners.

Inside the cage — the deer. Still bound and struggling weakly. Lying in a pool of its own waste. Which explains the smell.

Advancing, giving the cage a wide berth. There are three small tables in this subterranean room. Legs carved to resemble human forms. Surfaces overflowing with books. A chess set half hangs off of one of them. Pens. Writing pads. Candles waiting to be lit.

Ropes and chains in one corner. No weapons. I thought there'd be axes and swords, like inside the house, but there isn't even a stick.

A chest — treasure! I snap it open in a rush, treasure-lust momentarily getting the better of my other senses. Is this Lord Sheftree's legendary hoard?

Bitter disappointment — the chest's filled with old books and rolled-up parchment. I scrape the paper aside and explore the bottom of the chest, in search of even a single gold nugget or coin, but come up empty-handed.

Circling the room. Get close to the cage this time. Note a bowl set in the floor — for water, I assume. A door with two locks, neither currently bolted. No hatch for pushing food through.

I consider dragging out the deer and setting it free, but that would reveal my having been here. I don't want Dervish knowing I'm wise to this setup. Not sure what he'd do to me if he found out.

Examining the tables. On two of them the books are layered with dust, the candles have never been used, and the chairs are shoved in tight. On the other there are fewer books — a couple are open; the two large candles on the table are both half burned down, and the chair's been pulled out.

I focus on the third table. Walk around it twice without touching it. Wary of magic spells and what might happen if I disturb anything.

I wish Bill-E was here. I should have phoned him and cooked up some story to get him to stay the night. But I didn't want to drag him into this until I was sure — which I'm still not. So far I've seen nothing to suggest that Dervish is a werewolf, or that he uses this cell for anything more sinister than holding captured deer.

I have to take a chance with the spells. I pull the chair back a bit more, then sit and cautiously lay my hands on top of the table.

Nothing happens.

The light's poor here. There are matches on the table but I daren't light a candle — Dervish might smell it when he returns, or notice that it's burned down more than when he left.

I study one of the open books but I can't make sense of the words. If it's in English, it's protected by reading spells, like the books in Dervish's study.

I flick forward a few pages, keeping a finger on the page it was originally opened to. No pictures, though there are a few mathematical or magical diagrams. I turn the pages back and pick up one of the other books.

A wolf's bared jaws flash at me! I gasp — raise my hands to protect myself — almost topple out of my chair —

Then laugh hysterically as I realize it's just the cover of a book under the one I picked up. I need to get a grip. Freaking out over a picture — seriously uncool!

Laying the upper book aside, I open the one with the picture of a wolf on it. The words in this are also undecipherable, but there are many pictures and drawings — most of creatures which are half-human, half-wolf.