If ghosts did exist, thought Ashley, this was exactly the sort of house in which they'd live. Well, not live, but... she wasn't exactly sure what ghosts did instead. All she knew was that, whatever it was, they'd do it here.
The rooms were dark and gloomy. The floors, suffocated with cobwebs and dust, creaked incessantly. The doors joined their protest, and the house echoed with their rasping breath, their hoarse cries for air.
It wasn't the perfect home for disembodied voices, lacking as it did rusty chains or flaming torches, but it was good enough.
The voices themselves, though, ruined the scene. Sobbing infants were all well and good, but they weren't alone. There were also the voices of men.
"For fuck's sake, do they ever shut up?"
Ashley wasn't sure that ghosts swore.
"Oh, stop your whining. Do you want to get us into trouble? Again?"
There was a brief pause. Even the crying had stopped.
"No. Sorry, Cole."
"Now get back to work. The Piper won't be pleased if we don't finish this lot tonight, and I'm not going to be the one to tell him why."
With another reference to this mysterious Piper, Ashley knew she'd struck gold. She stood up. Besides the occasional sniffle from a child, the voices had stopped.
It was a lot to take in.
Firstly, these definitely weren't ghosts, so she could take a deep breath and stop being frightened. Ashley wasn't sure why she found immaterial spectres more scary than actual, flesh-and-blood criminals, but she did.
Secondly, if these voices had bodies, they had to be somewhere. She deduced that this house must have some sort of hidden cellar, where the criminals operated. Their lair was secret, after all.
Thirdly, and this took a while to register, Ashley had a sense of déjà vu. Cole. That had been the name of her first capture, the first man she'd discovered as a crook. He'd only been a drug user, and that's all a police investigation had found. If this was the same guy (vocal recognition aside, Cole wasn't the most common of names) what was he doing here? How was he involved here, at the heart of the organisation?
If Cole had only used drugs, he wouldn't be producing them. If he had, he'd have been locked up by the police, and he wouldn't be free today. It formed a paradox. If Cole didn't supply drugs, then he wouldn't be here to supply drugs. If he did supply drugs, he couldn't be here to supply drugs. Either way, it made no sense.
In realising this, Ashley also realised that she'd overlooked the real issue. Cole didn't really belong here, no. But neither did the children.
She didn't know why they were there, and she didn't know why Cole was there, but she did remember why she was there. Ashley wasn't here to be worried about ghosts. She was here to solve crimes.
The cellar had to have an entrance, and the house had limited floor space. Carefully, knowing even the lightest footstep would thunder below, Ashley searched for it. No longer fearing an attack on this floor, she crawled on her hands and knees.
Cautious as she was, she couldn't hide her presence from the dust, which rose in thick clouds wherever she moved. Ashley began breathing more heavily, straining for oxygen, but this only invited more dust in. Drawn in through her dry mouth, it coated her throat
Ashley sneezed.
She froze, petrified. Crouched on the floor, she was entirely vulnerable, and yet she couldn't afford to move. They might have heard her, but not been sure. They might be warily listening for further sound. She couldn't afford to make any.
YOU ARE READING
Masks
Mystery / ThrillerAshley Cox, failed magician, has never been the least bit magical. However, when she becomes involved in a sinister plot centred around her workplace, she needs a miracle to escape. She must succeed where she has always failed, and become completely...
