The Lord of Misrule

23 -- The Fourth Basement

Ada opened the door she'd fled through and it struck a white marble head, sent it spinning in place. She stopped this with a toe before approaching the wall where the passage lay.

"Hello?" said Ada after hauling it wide. She'd take no chances after last night, and she was certain only Justine was in the building with her. No one answered, and soon she was at the point Steve appeared from. A tight, winding stair that led down into blackness. Each step was a wedge that her little monk shoes slipped across for the nearly thirty-feet she descended.

These steps terminated into a great stone chamber with a half-built floor. Smelled of mold, and the stone walls were damp, glistening. All along these were rusted loops of metal that might've once have held chains, and in other places there were only ancient stains.

Yet despite this places Gothic atmosphere modern plastic cases were stacked in the corner. Ada grabbed one and hauled its lid off with a squelching pop of plastic—danger tingled down her spine then.

Real danger—not the thing of ghosts, or demons, or blue fire and animate statues but the dread of a knife in her back. Because within the case sat smaller plastic boxes that constituted the reason Steve kept this place secret.

Three of the boxes contained a kilo of cocaine each, all wrapped up in a tightly taped plastic tomb. Two others held a handgun each, similarly, entombed in plastic wrap. Another cradled a plastic bag full of bullets. A sixth, seventh and eighth contained wads of cash.

Ada backed away from this, frightened, and then jumped when she found a pillar with her back and knocked over the crowbar that leaned against it. She fully screamed then before silencing herself, and looked about the room.

Next to the pillar several bricks had been removed. Ada approached this. Behind this sat another stone plate, also removed, laying on the ground like a deserted headstone. A word was etched into this in ornate letters, "Sotor II". Skulls loomed on either side of this word, and cruder chisel marks left an upside-down cross above it. Nothing but a dirt hole sat behind the spot it had once rested. More clods scattered across the floor. Even the crowbar was coated—it clicked then. This is where Steve retrieved the skull from.

She wanted to flee then but forced herself to linger. Snapped pictures of the hole, the stone plate, and the boxes full of contraband, and then snuck back up the stairs.

A panel of plywood now stood over the door that had been smashed in the night before, and she hauled this aside—because what exactly had intruded upon her? What had come with such powerful steps? But she was to be disappointed—the room was again empty. The remains of the broken-in the door removed, along with a section of ceiling likely pulled down by the fire-fighters the alarm she triggered had summoned. Yet there was no apparent fire-damage. She pulled the plywood back over the empty door-frame and left the museum.

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513 words.

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