Shades of Red (6 page)

“You're the reason I came up here, Sun,” said Paris. “This little discovery has some archaeological elements to it that I thought you might find interesting.”

Brodie grinned and let his pack slide to the floor. “Okay, you've got me. What is it?”

Kate snapped her computer case closed. “Not me,” she said shortly. “I need to talk my roommate here out of making a bad decision.”

“That sounds interesting,” said Paris, crossing one ankle over the other. “But does it compare to,” he dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “a secret passage?”

Darrell sat up. “A what?”

“You heard me,” said Paris, enjoying the result of his bombshell. He pulled his feet off the table and jumped up. “Interested?”

“Yes!” chorused Brodie and Darrell, nearly drowning out Kate's quiet “No.”

“No?” said Paris, incredulously.

Kate refused to meet his eye. “Let's just say I'm a little anxious in enclosed spaces,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “Fine by me. Are you two in?”

Darrell felt a sudden excitement course through her veins. “I'm in,” she said quietly, and the hair on her arms tingled as though the room had suddenly filled with static.

“Me too,” said Brodie.

Kate looked despairingly at Brodie. “Haven't you learned anything? I've tromped though enough caves and lighthouses with you to know that it's a little risky, especially with
certain people
for company.”

Brodie shrugged. “We'll just go for a quick peek, Kate.”

Paris looked baffled. “What are you talking about?” he asked Kate.

Darrell scowled at Kate. “Never mind,” she said to Paris. “I'd really like to have a look. Kate can stay here with Delaney and then she won't have anything to worry about.”

Paris looked from one face to another in increasing puzzlement, then shrugged.

“Well, whoever wants to come is fine with me, but I want to go now before the hall supervisor clues in to what we're doing.”

“Who is on supervision this week?” asked Brodie.

Kate flipped open her binder. “Gramps,” she said succinctly.

“Oh well — no worries there,” said Paris. “Gramps spends most of his supervision time snoozing in the staff room.” He jumped to his feet, pulled the toque off his head, and stuffed it in his back pocket. “Are you with me?” He pointed at Brodie and strode out the door.

“Be right back, Katie.” Brodie grinned and hurried after Paris.

Darrell ruffled her dog's furry head. “Stay with Kate, Delaney,” she said. “And no more stealing people's stuff.” She glanced up at Kate. “I'll be right back,” she added quietly. “I'm just going for a look.”

Kate nodded with her hand on Delaney's collar. “Just hand me his leash, will you? I'll wait for you here.” Her face was tight with anxiety. “Be careful anyway, okay, Darrell?”

Darrell pulled the leash out of her pack and tossed it to Kate. She dashed out the door in time to see Brodie heading down the stairs. She followed Paris and Brodie down to a door on the floor below the study hall.

“The library?” she puffed, catching up as Brodie flipped on the light switch.

Paris nodded. “I was in the music section at the back, and — well, I'll show you.”

They were walking to the back of the library when the door burst open.

“All right! It
is
open!”

Darrell quailed inwardly. Not again! She turned to see Lily, still wrapped in her towel, though considerably soggier than before.

“I thought this place was closed for the night,” she announced cheerfully. “But then I saw you guys all
come in. This is great. I can sign out the books for my project now.”

“The library is closed, Lily,” said Darrell. “We just came in to look at a ...”

“... a poster,” finished Paris smoothly. “For a music festival that's coming up.”

“Oh,” said Lily, looking damply disappointed. “So Ms. Rawiya isn't here?”

“Nope.”

“All right. Guess I'll sign my books out tomorrow, then.”

Darrell sighed with relief. “You do that, Lily. See you upstairs?”

“Okay.” Lily started to leave and then hesitated. “Which music festival?”

“Uh — what?” Paris gulped.

“Which music festival? Maybe I'd like to go. Andrea likes folk — is it a folk festival?”

“No, not folk,” said Paris quickly. “Uh — jazz.”

Lily shook her head, sending droplets flying. “Ugh. Not a chance. See you later, Darrell.” She wrapped her towel around her shoulders and bolted out the door.

“That was a close one,” breathed Brodie.

Paris shrugged. “What's wrong with Lily knowing? She might think it's cool to see the secret passageway.”

Darrell exchanged a glance with Brodie. “We've just found that a fast way to make sure everyone in the school knows something is to tell Lily a secret.”

Brodie nodded. “And,” he said quickly, “we don't really know anything about this hidden passage, right? How soon do you want the teachers to find out about it?”

“Not.” Paris grinned. “I haven't exactly explored the place yet,” he added. “When you see it, you'll understand. The main passageway drops down — it could go all around underneath the school, for all I know.” He nudged Brodie. “Maybe we can even find a way to get out of Gramps's class.”

“So what do you say we just keep it to ourselves for now?” asked Darrell, with another glance at Brodie.

Paris nodded. “Okay. It's just back here,” he said, stepping though the stacks. “I was reading this book about Jimi Hendrix and I leaned right on this spot ...” He pushed against one side of the bookcase at the end of the row and the edge of the case suddenly popped forward. He turned around and grinned his triumph.

Brodie was beside him in an instant. He pulled the edge of the bookcase and it swung out like a door. “Simple catch and spring mechanism,” he muttered, bending over for a closer look. “Seems a little rusty, though. I'll bet this thing is pretty old.”

Darrell reached around the door and pulled one of the books out of the case. “Must be a strong hinge,”
she whispered. “Because these are all real books. This bookcase is heavy.”

“Whoever built this didn't want it to just swing open by mistake,” said Brodie, examining the clasp. “They've taken a lot of trouble to make sure it was carefully hidden.” He looked closely at Paris. “Pretty amazing that you found it by accident.”

Paris nodded. “I know. And all because of your dog, Darrell. Let's check it out.” He pulled out a small flashlight from his pocket, flicked it on, and stepped through the opening.

Darrell grabbed Paris by the arm. “What do you mean, because of my dog?”

He stuck his head back through the opening. “I told you he stole my hat already this week, right? Well, I chased him in here and found him lying right at the back with his head on it. I grabbed my hat and saw this book about Hendrix and — well, the rest you know.”

Her mind whirling with hats and dogs, Darrell let go of his arm. Paris slipped back into the dark doorway behind the bookcase.

“I'm right behind you.” Brodie grabbed his own flashlight from his pack and followed Paris through the doorway.

“Just a second, you guys,” said Darrell. “Paris, do you know how to open this door from the inside?”

Paris stuck his head back out through the opening. “Uh — no. I only went in a short distance the last time because I didn't have a flashlight.”

Darrell stepped through the opening. “Then wait a minute. We don't want this thing to swing closed on us,” she said and bent down to prop a hardcover book in the doorframe.

Paris started down the stairs, but Brodie put a hand on Darrell's arm. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he whispered. “Since you don't have a flashlight.”

Darrell reached out her hand and followed Brodie into the passage. Within two or three feet a worn wooden stairway opened below them. Darrell and Brodie cautiously followed Paris's bobbing flashlight down the steps. The thin glow of light from above disappeared as the stairs reached a landing and changed direction.

Paris was waiting on the landing. “This is as far as I got before,” he said in a low voice. Below the landing the surface of the steps changed abruptly from wood to rock and began a tight spiral down into the darkness.

“We must have worked our way under one of the stone towers,” whispered Brodie.

Darrell felt a surge of excitement. “This passage might lead down to the cave, Brodie,” she hissed in his ear. “Do you think Delaney led Paris here?”

“What was that?” asked Paris.

“I was just saying that it seems crazy to go on without more light,” said Darrell loudly. “Why don't we come back tomorrow and bring some brighter flashlights with us?”

Paris bounded down the stairs. “Are you kidding?” he called back over his shoulder, voice echoing. “I want to see where this goes.”

Brodie shrugged at Darrell. “Maybe you're right,” he said in a low voice. “That dog is smarter than most humans I know. But we need to find out for sure. Besides,” he said, holding the flashlight so that Darrell could see her way, “as long as Kate has Delaney, we'll be just fine.”

Her excitement growing, Darrell followed Brodie down the tightly winding steps.

The air was dank and smelled of mould and mildew. The stone walls grew damp under Darrell's fingertips as they slowly worked their way downward. There was no handrail, so Darrell stepped carefully, all too aware of how quickly she would skid downward on the slippery stone steps if she lost her footing. For balance, she kept a hand on Brodie's shoulder as he descended in front of her.

“Thirty-nine,” counted Brodie as they reached the bottom. His voice no longer echoed but sounded flat in the dank air.

As they shone their flashlights around at the bottom of the steps, several openings appeared before them in
the wavering beams. To the right, rotten timber lay tumbled on the ground amid a pile of rocks. Only a small opening remained. To the left, timbers still shored up entrances to at least three other passages; Darrell knew more could easily lie outside the range of the flashlights.

“This is amazing,” breathed Paris. “Why do you think all these tunnels are here?”

“Probably smugglers,” said Brodie. “There was quite a bit of smuggling on this coast during Prohibition,” he added.

“The building was originally a hunting lodge,” said Darrell. “Maybe the hunters were supplementing their income by selling alcohol.”

Paris shrugged. “Who knows,” he began, when a long wail followed by a strange shuffling and bumping noise echoed down the stairwell behind them.

As they instinctively turned toward the noise, the beams from Paris and Brodie's flashlights converged on the bottom step.

“What — ?” began Paris, when into the light bounded a lithe golden form.

Kate followed, her face flushed. She stumbled down the last stair and tripped into Darrell's arms. “Bad boy!” she said breathlessly to Delaney.

The dog wagged his tail serenely, as if he had been out for a quiet stroll, and flopped down at Darrell's feet.

“What are you doing here?” said Brodie.

“How did you find us?” asked Darrell at the same time.

Kate shook her head in exasperation. “Your bad dog took off before I could get the leash on him,” she said, frowning at Delaney. “He scratched on the library door — left a big claw-mark —” she added pointedly, “and pushed his way right in. I had to chase him down through the open bookcase at the back.” She reached down and snapped his leash onto his collar. “Caught you, you criminal,” she whispered, giving his head a pat.

She clutched the leash tightly and nodded at the pile of rubble and timber. “That looks like it leads to the cave in the rocks,” she said, an edge of fear in her voice. She glanced at Darrell. “I'm not ready to go back there,” she said. “And I don't think you should, either.”

“What cave?” Paris looked interested.

Darrell reached out and took the leash from Kate's hand. “Nobody is going anywhere,” she said. “We've seen everything we came down here to see.”

“Not quite everything,” said Paris, his voice echoing as he stepped through the entrance to a passageway. “I just want a quick look at this weird symbol on the wall ...”

Kate shook her head. “Another time, okay, Paris?”

Delaney jumped up to follow Paris, and as he tugged Darrell forward she felt a familiar tingling in her
fingertips. She whirled to see Brodie's puzzled expression and a mounting look of horror on Kate's face. Kate's fingers dug into Darrell's sleeve in a futile effort to pull her back out of the doorway. Darrell opened her mouth to yell, but her words of warning were ripped away by a massive surge of air that twisted and pulled her into oblivion.

Seconds later, Paris scrabbled on the dirt floor, the rocks and pebbles digging through his jeans into his knees. “What was that?” he gasped, and immediately regretted it. His mouth filled with what seemed like a century's worth of the dust that skittered and swirled through the old passages. His flashlight was gone, and darkness swallowed everything. His eyes felt glued shut with ancient grime.

After a minute or two he found he could breathe more easily, so he scrubbed at his eyes with a sleeve and felt around for his flashlight. No luck.

Now that the dust was settling, a strange silence seemed to descend along with it. Where was everybody?

“Darrell?”

No answer. He called the others, but even the dog wasn't making a sound.

“Brodie? Where are you guys? Kate! Delaney — here boy!”

Nothing.

Crawling along, he smashed his knee hard enough to make his eyes water and reached down in the dark to feel what he had hit. The familiar shape of the flashlight slipped into his hand, and he pushed the button hard. To his enormous relief, the light flicked on.