Little damage. The largest on record was a 6.1 on the Richter scale, back in 1931, and . . .
The colorful wires trembled as the vibration increased. A dozen of the lines on the monitor flashed to red. The airport board flipped by so fast, it made my eyes water. I opened my mouth to scream.
Then, abruptly, it all stopped. Everything went blessedly quiet, but oh, I was so done with this.
Whatever little scheme they had going on here, they could keep it. All I wanted was some answers about my mom, then I was outta here.
Peeking out into the wide, empty cellar, I rushed toward the stairs. The instant my foot hit the bottom step, I paused, trying hard to hear over the blood careening through my veins.
Oh. No.
Above my head, moving inexorably toward the hidden closet, came the clomp of heavy footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of whistling.
Chapter 7
T HE CHEERY TUNE DREW CLOSER. Adrenaline sparked on my tongue with a metallic tang.
I didnât know these people. But I had a strong hunch they wouldnât like it if they knew Iâd been rummaging around in their bizarre secret . . . lair or whatever this was.
Breathless, I glanced back toward the long cellar that arced off into shadow.
Hide.
It was my only thought when I flew toward the far end, tripping as my slippers slapped the rough stone. I rounded the bend and skidded to a stumbling halt. Huge and round, blocking my retreat, stood the metal door of an enormous vault.
I had no time to analyze why there was a bank-size vault hidden beneath my auntâs home.
The rattling of brooms echoed toward me down the empty space. Frantic, I began punching random numbers on a back-lit keypad. When nothing happened, I slapped desperately at the small dark display panel rooted in the stone above it.
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. How am I gonna explainâ
A red light sprang to life beneath my palm. I jerked my hand back just as the panel turned green. Words scrolled across the panel. HOPE D. WALTON. IDENTITY ACCEPTED.
A metallic click sounded deep within the vault. I had to leap back to avoid getting smacked as the heavy door swung open on greased, noiseless hinges.
My jaw dropped. No time to wonder why the security system recognized me. A heavy tread now stomped down the wooden stairs at the other end of the cellar. I had no idea if they could see this far into the cellar or not. But I wasnât taking any chances. I bolted inside and grabbed the metal bar on the doorâs interior. I pulled. At first, it wouldnât budge. I jerked and heaved until finally the heavy steel swung back toward me.
Uhh . . . wait.
Too late. I couldnât stop the momentum. The door shut. The locks engaged with an ominous snick. And I was trapped in a cold cocoon of utter darkness.
Oh God. No air. No air. No air.
My diaphragm seized, smooshing my heart into a tiny space. It slammed in my throat like a captive bird trying to escape its cage. My lungs refused to work. Green dots throbbed at the edge of my vision.
Nearly retching in panic, I no longer cared if I was caught. I beat on the door, screaming for someoneâanyoneâto let me out, but my voice only echoed off the metal, swallowed by the black space and empty stone. For secondsâhours, maybeâI smashed my fists into steel, until my split knuckles ran sticky with blood.
My knees smacked the stone floor. A chill bled through the thin fabric of my robe as I tried to hold on to reason. I snatched at it, but it trickled through my fingers like sand. I lost my tenuous hold. White-hot pain seared through my brain as fear took me. In that instant, I was back inside the nightmare tree.
I lay curled inside the trunk of the hollowed-out tree. Outside, the snow-shrouded ground of a forest clearing sparkled silver with moonlight. Claw-like shadows skittered across the ground as a howling wind whipped the bare branches. I was little, and all alone except for the doll in my lap.
âDonât be
The colorful wires trembled as the vibration increased. A dozen of the lines on the monitor flashed to red. The airport board flipped by so fast, it made my eyes water. I opened my mouth to scream.
Then, abruptly, it all stopped. Everything went blessedly quiet, but oh, I was so done with this.
Whatever little scheme they had going on here, they could keep it. All I wanted was some answers about my mom, then I was outta here.
Peeking out into the wide, empty cellar, I rushed toward the stairs. The instant my foot hit the bottom step, I paused, trying hard to hear over the blood careening through my veins.
Oh. No.
Above my head, moving inexorably toward the hidden closet, came the clomp of heavy footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of whistling.
Chapter 7
T HE CHEERY TUNE DREW CLOSER. Adrenaline sparked on my tongue with a metallic tang.
I didnât know these people. But I had a strong hunch they wouldnât like it if they knew Iâd been rummaging around in their bizarre secret . . . lair or whatever this was.
Breathless, I glanced back toward the long cellar that arced off into shadow.
Hide.
It was my only thought when I flew toward the far end, tripping as my slippers slapped the rough stone. I rounded the bend and skidded to a stumbling halt. Huge and round, blocking my retreat, stood the metal door of an enormous vault.
I had no time to analyze why there was a bank-size vault hidden beneath my auntâs home.
The rattling of brooms echoed toward me down the empty space. Frantic, I began punching random numbers on a back-lit keypad. When nothing happened, I slapped desperately at the small dark display panel rooted in the stone above it.
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. How am I gonna explainâ
A red light sprang to life beneath my palm. I jerked my hand back just as the panel turned green. Words scrolled across the panel. HOPE D. WALTON. IDENTITY ACCEPTED.
A metallic click sounded deep within the vault. I had to leap back to avoid getting smacked as the heavy door swung open on greased, noiseless hinges.
My jaw dropped. No time to wonder why the security system recognized me. A heavy tread now stomped down the wooden stairs at the other end of the cellar. I had no idea if they could see this far into the cellar or not. But I wasnât taking any chances. I bolted inside and grabbed the metal bar on the doorâs interior. I pulled. At first, it wouldnât budge. I jerked and heaved until finally the heavy steel swung back toward me.
Uhh . . . wait.
Too late. I couldnât stop the momentum. The door shut. The locks engaged with an ominous snick. And I was trapped in a cold cocoon of utter darkness.
Oh God. No air. No air. No air.
My diaphragm seized, smooshing my heart into a tiny space. It slammed in my throat like a captive bird trying to escape its cage. My lungs refused to work. Green dots throbbed at the edge of my vision.
Nearly retching in panic, I no longer cared if I was caught. I beat on the door, screaming for someoneâanyoneâto let me out, but my voice only echoed off the metal, swallowed by the black space and empty stone. For secondsâhours, maybeâI smashed my fists into steel, until my split knuckles ran sticky with blood.
My knees smacked the stone floor. A chill bled through the thin fabric of my robe as I tried to hold on to reason. I snatched at it, but it trickled through my fingers like sand. I lost my tenuous hold. White-hot pain seared through my brain as fear took me. In that instant, I was back inside the nightmare tree.
I lay curled inside the trunk of the hollowed-out tree. Outside, the snow-shrouded ground of a forest clearing sparkled silver with moonlight. Claw-like shadows skittered across the ground as a howling wind whipped the bare branches. I was little, and all alone except for the doll in my lap.
âDonât be
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