Curse Breaker (2)

23

My first feeling when Myers leads us toward the back door is one of relief.

Being inside the cluttered, dingy room makes my skin crawl. But the relief is soon overtaken by a wave of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Myers bypasses the door, facing the disheveled pile of belongings stacked against a bookshelf that's nearly entirely concealed by the mess.

I glance at Killian by my side as Myers rumbles through the pile, shoving aside what appear to be decade-old unwashed mugs, broken pieces of wooden furniture, and torn books. Killian's stance reveals more than his expression, left hand positioned at his belt where his weapons rest. As if feeling my gaze, his eyes draw down towards me.

Neither of us says anything. But for the first time, I feel that I can read the words clearly in his eyes. You okay?

I nod.

Myers has cleared the path to the bookshelf by the time I look back at him. He turns to look at us over his shoulder, gaze lingering on Killian.

"Your Queens," he says, voice low. "Are they the ones authorising this mission of yours?"

"The Queens are both dead," Killian responds, not missing a beat. "It is Sanaa who leads us now."

If Myers is surprised by the knowledge, he does not show it. His head tilts forward as his gaze grows more speculative, like if he stares long enough, Killian will reveal a secret.

Eventually, he ducks his head. "I risk my life showing this to you. I pray I do not regret it."

He reaches for a book on the top shelf and wedges it from its position. Click. The bookshelf jolts out from the wall. Taking a step towards Killian, I watch wide-eyed as Myers uses the weight of his body to roll the bookshelf to the side, revealing a dark, winding staircase leading to the floor.

He does not look at either of us before he takes the first step down, the darkness swallowing him whole. Killian doesn't hesitate to follow, leaving me stuck to the spot by the bookshelf. I take a shaky breath. Everything inside of me wants to run in the other direction, but with a big swallow, I shove the fear to the back of my mind.

I take the first step down the passage. It isn't long before the darkness swallows me, too.

The air is cold and sticky. Below, I can see the outline of Killian's head, our footsteps causing the wooden staircase to groan beneath our weight. My breath comes in sharp, ragged intakes as I wind downwards, alarm bells ringing in my head as dust infiltrates my nose, irritating my airways.

Myers and Killian's footsteps halt before mine, both dark figures at the bottom of the staircase. I glance over my shoulder, back at the opening, but it's concealed from my view. No light seeps through. No fresh air. No warmth.

Below, a candle ignites in Myers hands, casting his shadows against the wall--I can't tell what it's made of, but blue paint peels down the edges. I reach the bottom platform of the staircase, halting next to Killian and glancing around. The staircase led us to an underground room, much more organised than his cabin. With the little light Myers candle provides, I can make out the metal shelves lining the walls centered around a wooden workshop table littered with tools.

"What is this place?" I murmur, my voice disturbing the dust in the air.

"My sanctuary," Myers responds. "A safe place for me to practice my gifts. And to keep relics of my past." His glasses seem enormous as he stares up at me, eyes wide.

"Nobody has ever found it?" Killian asks.

He shakes his head. "Nobody ever looked past the living room."