“What should we do?” Quinn cried, spinning around, scanning the room for an idea.
“Basement!” Daphna yelled, finally tearing herself away from the horrifying but hypnotic pull of Branwen’s lunatic eyes. Those eyes weren’t entirely her own anymore—that was obvious.
“But we don’t know if he’s got a tunnel down there or not,” Quinn protested. “We could get cornered!”
Daphna shot a wild look around the room. She didn’t know what to do, where to go. Branwen and her flunkies were there now, banging on the door. Daphna’s brain felt like that painting of scrambled lines, hopelessly tangled thoughts, a thousand paths leading no—
“That’s it!” Daphna cried, fumbling the page from the book of Portland tunnels out of her back pocket. She unfolded it and held it shakily up in front of the painting over the fireplace. The squiggles on the page matched some of the squiggles on the painting—the black ones that touched the blue streaks.
Which were the river.
They were banging on the front window now.
Daphna leapt to the hearth, tore the frame off the wall and smashed it on the mantel.
“The basement!” she cried, pulling the map out.
“This way!” Quinn called, catching on. He bolted for the kitchen.
There were two doors. The back door had a semi-circular window revealing a little deck and garden outside. Just as Daphna reached it, a boy’s face appeared in the glass with an expression twisted grotesquely by the desire for violence. Daphna screamed as he jerked on the knob. Quinn, rushing past her, tore open the second door just as something shattered a window in the front of the house.
“We’re going to kill you!” Branwen screeched through it. “Do you hear me! We’re going to kill you!”
Daphna rushed down the steps Quinn had revealed. He slammed the door behind him after letting her pass, leaving them in the dark.
“Light! I need light!” he cried. But he evidently found a switch because some exposed bulbs lit up dimly around the basement.
Glass shattered in the kitchen.
“Can you lock it?” Daphna cried. She’d nearly taken a header down the steps, but now at the bottom and still upright, she turned to see Quinn at the door frantically looking for a way to do exactly that.
“There’s no lock!” he cried.
“Is there a rope or a cord?”
The wall along the steps was covered with hooks that held various tools. Quinn scanned them for second, then started fumbling with his belt. He ripped it out of his jeans, cinched it over the doorknob, then worked one the holes over an empty hook.
“Good idea!” Daphna called.
“Best I can do!” he said, rushing down the steps.
Someone rattled the door, then yanked on it. It didn’t open. They pounded on it.
“We’re coming down there!” Branwen railed before the rattling resumed. The door opened the slightest bit this time. “You’ll never see the light of day again!”
Daphna knew they didn’t have much time. She folded the map and shoved it into her pocket, then whirled round, scanning the dusty, unfinished basement for anything that could hide a tunnel entrance. There was a water heater, a furnace, more filing cabinets, two old couches. Everything was coated with dust.
“You’re dead!” Branwen screamed through the crack that was now exposed at the door. The belt was stretching.
“It’s a belt!” she screamed. “Get a knife! Get a knife!”
“It’s got to be a door in the floor, right?” Daphna asked, almost pleading.
She and Quinn ran around, scanning. There were no carpets though, only exposed concrete. Neither saw any kind of squares or panels to pry up.
“Honey, we’re home!” Branwen called through the increasingly large space at the door.
“Where is it!” Daphna wailed.
The basement door crashed open. Branwen let loose an exultant howl, but a moment later a man’s harsh voice hollered, “Police! Freeze!”
After a moment of panicked silence, Daphna and Quinn—frozen where they stood—heard movement. Then, “Now, punks! Drop the knife and put your hands up on the wall over your heads! I said DO IT NOW!”
“They’re down there!” Branwen protested. “We have to get them! We have to kill the witch!”
An argument ensued. Daphna looked at Quinn, who nodded. They resumed their search, scanning for clues as quickly and quietly as they could. Daphna was sweating profusely, despite the cold down there.
“Downstairs! She’s—!”
“Drop the knife! Do it now!”
Daphna pointed to a tall, hulking object in a dark corner, set against a wall. The bulb hanging over it had burned out, so it was mostly obscured by shadow. She and Quinn hurried over into the darkness where it stood.
It was a wardrobe, as covered in dust as everything else down there.
Except for its handle, which clearly had a handprint on it.
“No way,” Quinn said, too loudly. “That’s it. That’s definitely it.” He tried the door, but it was locked. He touched the keyhole embedded in the handle, then turned to Daphna.
Daphna fumbled to get Mr. G’s key out of her pocket. Her hands were shaking, but she inserted the key directly into the lock.
It turned!
Quinn eased the creaky door open.
Jackets. Lots of jackets. They seemed to fill the entire space inside.
But they knew this trick.
A horrific thunderclap crashed outside, shaking the house. Daphna and Quinn both grabbed the wardrobe to avoid falling.
Then the thunder crashed again, and again.
“Get back here!” a cop demanded when it finally ended.
“That witch is down there!” Branwen raged. “I’m telling you! She killed my best friends!”
“Get back here!”
Pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Quinn and Daphna forced their way into the wardrobe. Daphna closed it the moment she could and was relieved to hear the lock click when the door latched. Quinn was behind her, already groping around at the back. There wasn’t enough room for Daphna to help, so she stayed where she was, trembling and sweating against the door.
A struggle was taking place in the basement now. Things were being knocked over. Branwen screamed, “She’s down here! She’s down here! Don’t touch them! My parents will sue you! They’ll have your badges!”
“Daphna,” Quinn whispered, his voice muffled by all the coats, “I can’t find any kind of door back here. It’s just—No wait, something’s leaning against the back. Feels like a long piece of wood.”
“Get it out of the way!”
Quinn struggled a moment, then shoved something through the coats. It jabbed Daphna, so she pushed it to the side. It was almost as tall as she was.
“The back wall,” Quinn whispered. “It’s metal. And it’s freezing cold.”
“The tunnel! There’s got to be a latch! Feel around!”
Something hit the wardrobe, inches from Daphna’s face. She couldn’t help crying out.
“There! You heard that!” Branwen was evidently trying to open the door now. “In here! She must be hiding in here! I’m not leaving until—until we get them!” Now Branwen was kicking the door. “I’m not leaving until that Wax witch gets what she deserves!”
Daphna turned around as best as she could, breathing in moldy fabric.
“Hurry!” she urged.
“I’m trying! I can’t see! It’s just a wall!”
“Use your phone!”
“Oh!”
“The Wax twins? They really are here?”
“Daphna! And her boyfriend!”
A dim light came on in the wardrobe.
“Well, well, well,” a cop said, “he wasn’t lying, then. Tell you what—We’re gonna cut you a break, all of you. Go on and get out. Go home. We’ll take it from here.”
“No! She’s—!”
Daphna heard gasps, loud and clear, right through the door, right through the coats.
“How dare you point that thing at me!”
“If I were you, I’d get going before there’s an unfortunate accident.”
There was a long pause, then the sound of feet on the steps again.
“You’ll regret this!” Branwen called, but then it was quiet.
Then, a cop’s voice: “That you, Daphne? And the boy with the book?” The handle rattled a bit. “You guys playing kissey-face in the dark? Hope you made good use of your tongues!”
Hearty laughter followed this.
Daphna held her breath. Did she know that voice? Quinn continued to search the back wall, breathing frantically.
“Come on out of there,” another cop said, pulling hard on the handle. These were those same cops! “We have some folks who’d like to talk to you about that book you gave them. No big deal.”
Daphna ignored this, willing Quinn to find something.
A cop kicked the wardrobe door. Hard. It splintered a bit.
Daphna screamed.
Another kick. This one caused a loud crack.
Daphna jammed her body back through the coats to get away from the boot she was sure would break through the door. She bashed into Quinn, but he somehow gave way, as if there was more room back there than she’d imagined.
Another kick.
The door broke apart, but Daphna was falling into cold air.