Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (13 page)

She stopped, noticing what looked like an obscure door nestled beneath the staircase. She hadn’t seen it before because it had been concealed behind the large, tangled plant. She figured it was probably a linen closet, or some kind of storage area, but when she looked down she saw several circles, as if the plant had been moved many times.

Why would anyone put a plant in such an inconvenient place?
she wondered. But she knew the answer before her mind ever formed the question.
To hide it, of course.

Apparently someone used the door often, and she was too curious to leave without knowing why. Having forgotten about the library, she walked closer, then turned her head to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one, she pushed the heavy plant aside, hearing the grit beneath scrape along the tiled floor. Wiping her slightly soiled hands on her robe, she slowly grasped the knob, and turned. The door squeaked, and the darkness she saw beyond was deep. She immediately felt a cold wind hit her in the face. It smelled of wet dirt. The steps were cracked and broken, and the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling shifted eerily in the breeze. She walked into the cold, musty atmosphere until she came to the first step, then hesitated. Was she completely sure she wanted to get lost in a maze that she knew was legendary in these types of structures? Surely it couldn’t lead anywhere but a damp cellar full of nothing but rats and spiders. She kept telling herself to turn back, but failing to heed her own warning, she continued.

She descended the narrow, winding stairs one careful step at a time. There was no rail, and the walls were made of large, roughly hewn concrete blocks. It was very dark and shadowy, and the cobwebs that hung here and there caused her to jump when they touched her. Finally making it to the bottom, she looked around.

It all seemed so familiar.

As she began walking, she knew every turn, every dark crevice, and every shadow that loomed up before her. She thought she heard something and jerked her head around. A chill crept up her spine when she thought she saw a shadow chasing her. Just then she looked up and saw the little square chamber just ahead. She began walking energetically, the light material of her house robe flaring out all around her in the musty, self-made breeze.

When she got there she looked behind her and saw nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, she realized her imagination had been playing tricks on her. Her eyes darted around the little square chamber and saw nothing but a door of steel bars. It was then that everything began to fall into place. She remembered seeing a pair of burning eyes watching her from within the deep recesses of the mansion.

In there,
she thought as she looked beyond the bars into the dark chamber. She found the window, then looked beyond it to where she had been standing that night—in a dream.
Quinn had been there,
she thought.
She’d seen him on Cat’s Paw watching her. But the eyes. They’d been in that room, looking out. Imprisoned—captured—struggling—wanting to escape—to be free.

Had it been Kirk she saw?

A flicker of apprehension flickered through her.
Surely Kirk wouldn’t live in such a place,
she thought as she looked around the room full of shadows.
It was a lair for a monster—a beast—not a man.
What was wrong with him that he had to live in the basement, stand in shadows. She slowly crept up to the door and rattled it, then looked down to see if there was a latch of some kind. She saw one, but when she tried it, it wouldn't give.

She heard something and her head jerked up.

"Hello! Is someone in there?"

"Go away."

Chyna felt chills crawl up her arms when she heard Kirk’s deep, raspy voice.

“Kirk,” she whispered. “Is that you?”

"Just go away."

"Please…"

"I said, go away."

“Kirk, please let…” Suddenly Chyna jumped back when he threw a large shoe against the barred door.

Looking down at it, she saw that it was smeared with blood. "Oh, God,” Chyna asserted, a note of panic in her voice. “Are you all right? There's blood on your shoe. Do you need help?"

"I don’t need anything. Now, go."

Chyna backed away in fear. "I'm sorry,” she said, her voice small and trembling. “I thought… I…just wanted to know…if…maybe you needed help." Hearing nothing but silence, Chyna bit her lip wondering if she should go. Before turning away, she said, “Kirk, won’t…”

A raspy, tortured voice came out of the darkness. “What the hell do I have to do to make you leave? You want to see me, is that it? Well, here I am. Take a good look." All at once he jumped forward from out of the shadows, his horribly disfigured face looming before her. Chyna was so surprised by the abrupt movement, she could only stand there looking into a ghastly face made worse by the shadows from the dim light that slashed into every deep cut and puckering scar. The gaping slices that zigzagged crazily across his face looked as if a mad artist had tried to destroy his masterpiece. A scream immediately burst from her throat as she turned and ran flying up the steps.

* * * *

That night at the dinner table Chyna was still shaking from the horror she had experienced earlier. She couldn’t concentrate on the conversation, and barely picked at her food. All she could think about was Kirk down in that dark basement. And the face—oh, my God, that horrible face!

Quinn watched her. "Aren't you hungry?" he finally asked.

Chyna laid her fork down, letting it clatter against her plate. "I'm sorry, it's just that something very odd happened today, and I can't seem to get it out of my mind."

"What was it?" Elaine asked, a look of concern on her face.

"Well, I found some stairs leading—” she shrugged slightly, “—to the basement, I guess. Anyway, I found Kirk down there.” Her eyes shifted to one then the other. “He seemed to be hiding—all alone—in the dark. Are you aware of that?"

Quinn and Elaine exchanged knowing glances, then he moved his eyes toward Chyna. "Yes," he said simply.

Chyna frowned. "But why? What’s he hiding from? And why?"

Quinn looked at her pointedly. "Did you see his face?"

"Yes, but…"

“The basement is Kirk’s hideaway.” Quinn laid his napkin beside his plate then leaned his elbows comfortably on the arms of his chair as he looked at her. “We've tried to get him out of there any number of times, but he won't budge. I can't really blame him. After all, he knows he's a monster, and it's private. If he feels comfortable there, away from prying eyes, then—" Quinn shrugged. "—so be it." He picked up his glass of wine and sipped it.

"But in the basement. There could be spiders, snakes—"

"Spiders and snakes are the least of his worries,” Quinn said, putting his wine glass down and picking up his fork. “What he’s afraid of are people.”

She looked at Elaine. “Elaine, you’re a nurse, you must know how bad that environment is for him.”

“Ms. Marsh, Quinn and I understand your concern, but there’s absolutely no need to worry. He’s used to it. Besides, he doesn’t stay down there all the time. He comes up sometimes, even goes out for a walk along the beach occasionally.”

“But, it’s almost as if he’s—” She hesitated. “—I don’t know, a house pet, or something. He’s quiet, hides in shadows. You feed him, ignore him when he’s around. It…it’s appalling.”

Quinn dropped his fork, his words taking on a tone of impatience. “What would you suggest I do? I can’t drag him out against his will. He refuses to go anywhere there are people around. He didn't even want you coming here."

"I assumed as much, since he didn't welcome me with open arms."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, I understand."

"Kirk is really a very nice, normal man." Elaine said, sadly. "I don’t know how he’s held on to his sanity so long living down in that damp old basement. I live in fear that it might do something to him inside. Something that can’t be fixed."

"What about plastic surgery? I'm sure his face could be fixed."

"As far as he's concerned, it's out of the question. For a long time he couldn’t go under the knife because he suffered from severe depression. Now, he says it's been too long, and the damage is too deep. He won't even see anyone."

Chyna looked down at her plate, deep in thought.

Quinn’s piercing gaze stabbed at her, resenting her preoccupation with Kirk. "Don't go down there again."

Chyna jerked her head up. "What? But why?"

"He doesn't want you down there. It's his space, so leave him alone."

"But he needs help for God's sake. Someone needs to care."

Quinn jumped up, leaned over the table, his eyes burning into hers. "Are you saying we don't care?”

"No, of course not. But evidently all your efforts have been in vain. Maybe I can help."

Quinn threw his napkin down. "I will not have you come into this house and upset my brother when all you want is a plot for a new book. Leave my brother alone, he's suffered enough."

"How dare you. A book is the furthest thing from my mind right now. Your
brother
needs help, and if I can, I want to help him."

Quinn kicked his chair back, came around the table and confronted Chyna with menacing eyes. "Why in hell would you be interested in a friggin' monster? A freak, an insect that lives under the stairs. He hasn't had a woman, much less seen one but Elaine, in ten years. If you get him aroused, you could get hurt, so stay away from him."

"How can you talk about your own brother like that?"

"Because I know what I’d be like in the same situation.” He pointed a determined finger at her face, and his teeth clenched. “You heard what I said, so stay away."

Chyna, not being used to being ordered around jumped up. "You bastard, who in the hell do you think you are? You can't order me around like that."

"As long as you're in this house, you'll abide by the rules. Is that clear?"

Chyna threw down her napkin. "I don't have to be in this house another minute. I'll leave immediately." She turned to Elaine. “Elaine, have you heard anything about the telephone lines and how soon it will be before they’re working again?”

Quinn's face paled. "No!"

Chyna whirled around. "What?"

"You're too weak, you can't leave. I'm responsible for you, and I don't want you to leave before you're completely healed. Besides, ours is a remote location. It’ll take weeks to get everything back the way it was." He quickly cut his pleading gaze over to Elaine for help.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Elaine jumped up. "He’s right, Chyna. You really shouldn’t leave yet. Give yourself a few more days to get over those dizzy spells. We wouldn’t want you to have a relapse. I’m sorry about the phones, but we’re sort of forgotten up on this old ridge.” She looked over at Quinn, “Quinn, why don’t you go into town tomorrow and see if you can speed things up?"

“Of course,” he said, sliding his eyes back to Chyna. “You’ve been through a lot today. It might be best if you turned in early tonight.” With an angry, abrupt turn, he threw his napkin down and left.

"I'm sorry about all this,” Elaine whispered as Quinn left the room. “It’s been a stressful ten years. It hasn’t affected me as much as it has Quinn. It’s left him a little short tempered, I’m afraid."

"How did this awful thing happen to Kirk?"

Elaine smiled, her eyes taking on a faraway look as if she was remembering. "When Kirk was twenty-one he was in college and really doing well. He was going to become, as he put it, 'a real hot shot lawyer.' He could have done it too," she said proudly.

"Very ambitious, huh?" Chyna replied, smiling.

"Oh sure, he was ambitious. Handsome too. But most of all he was brilliant." Suddenly her eyes became dark with remembered pain. "Then came the holidays. The family was getting together for Thanksgiving, but something went wrong with Kirk's car and he couldn't make it home. Mom and Dad decided to go down and get him in their car. Even though there was a bad storm coming they weren't worried, they were sure they could make it there and back before it hit. On the way back it started getting dark and began raining hard, so Dad let Kirk take the wheel since he didn't like to drive in the rain." Elaine’s eyes lowered, and her voice softened.

"They were about halfway home when someone swerved in front of the car and bumped it. Kirk lost control and ran into a concrete wall. Mom and Dad were killed instantly." Looking back up at Chyna, she continued, a sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. "Kirk's face was ripped up by flying glass, ruining his life and his career. I know it must be hard to believe, but he hasn't been out of that basement since. He never went back to college, and blames himself for their deaths." She sighed, lowering her eyes. "Now he's punishing himself. We've tried everything we know to get him out, but so far, nothing."

“My God, Elaine, I didn’t know. My stupid crack the other day about a monster, and this being Frankenstein’s castle…I…you must have—”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“How old is Kirk now?"

"He just turned thirty-one. A year younger than Quinn."

"How sad,” Chyna sighed. “Well, it doesn't matter, I'll probably be leaving in a few days anyway."