Garden of Nymphs

Chapter Thirty-Seven

They descended the stony, echoic staircase into the absolute darkness below. The shadows swallowed them up with each step: first the feet, then the legs, next the torso, until they were entirely enveloped in the cold, tomblike darkness. Helena could no longer see the steps beneath her feet, so she had to feel her way, running her fingertips down the dank, slimy wall as she went. The slick, moldy sensation made her recoil, but she courageously stayed her hand, for her fear of falling outweighed her disgust for the mold and lichen that were smearing over her fingers. She felt Jason's arm slip around her waist to steady her, and a contented grin sprang to her lips.

Their feet touched bottom, and Helena halted in her path to scrutinize the darkness.

She clicked her tongue with consternation. "I wish I could see where we were going." She racked her memory for a clue. "The staircase was perpendicular to the ....which must mean we're facing west now, and the center of the square is to our right..." She craned her neck in every direction, without furthering her cause in the slightest.

"Sure would have been a good idea to grab a couple of those long Advent candles before we came down here," Jason commented nonchalantly.

Helena stopped short and cocked her head to the side. The idea had never occurred to her. "Oh yeah...that would be really helpful in this situation," she said with regret.

"Then it's a good thing I thought of it."

Helena heard a satisfied chuckle, then a soft, flickering light illuminated the grin on Jason's face.

This man was incorrigible, she thought. She tried to shoot him an irritated look, but realized she was smiling.

"I sure hope you're having fun over there, Mr. Eros—"

"Oh, you have no idea. This is awesome."

"—watching me nearly tumble headfirst down those stairs while you had that candle the whole time."

He brushed off the reproach with a wave of his hand. "C'mon, you know I would have caught you." Helena glared up at him.

"Seriously, you can't imagine how entertaining this is compared to writing briefs and sitting through client meetings. Believe me, I'm milking this vacation for all it's worth, because it'll probably be awhile before I get another one."

"Glad to hear my life is so amusing to you," she said dryly. "I'll try not to disappoint." She glanced around, indecisive for a moment, then finally made a choice. "It's this way," she said, indicating a long, dark corridor to their left. "You lead the way, Mr. Eros."

He obeyed, and she followed close behind him—or rather, followed the solitary point of light cast by the candle in his hand. The rest was obscurity. By straining her eyes, Helena could make out the shadowy forms of tombs, arranged in gloomy rows along the wall. Here and there, dimly lit forms floated into her field of vision—a forbidding stone coffin; a rotting, wooden crucifix; a statue of a saint, morosely contemplating its eternal charge—all momentarily illuminated by the passing Advent candle.

She knew they were pressed for time, that an urgent matter was at hand, but her curiosity kept getting the best of her. Every few seconds she was reaching for the candle in Eros' hand and trotting off to inspect a tomb. When he felt the candle snatched from his hand for the fourth time, he refused to take it back.

"I can't help myself," Helena explained in guise of an apology.

"It's like taking a kid to a toy store and telling her to stay in the cart."