A Knife's Tale (ONC 2021)

Chapter Nine

At the top of the stairs, there's a large metal trap door. Lawrence fumbles through his bag with his mangled finger to fish out his keyring.

One of the seven keys he has must be the one to unlock Guinevere's shackles. Seeing them right there, right in front of me, while I have no ability to reach out and grab them, maddens me. Everything is always so close, yet so far.

He unlocks it and swings it upward with a heavy push. It irks me to no end how nonchalant he is toward the pain of his brutalized finger. I hurt just looking at it.

But the guy acts as though nothing happened to him.

It makes me feel like Guinevere's triumph is for nothing. She can't even revel in her victory, since the drug has surely turned her into a rag doll by now. And I can't be there to commiserate with her or talk her through her misfortunes.

Still, I need to take notes. I have to tell Guinevere of anything outside that could help in getting us out.

We exit into a small room, with only the trapdoor and another locked door in it. The floorboards creak with every one of his steps, and it's almost like the room had been built with the intent of signaling his arrival to those in the basement.

Beyond the door is a candlelit study, with books piled high, scribbled parchments strewn about, and shelves with jars of various tinctures. The light blinds me for a moment—I'd grown long used to the darkness of the basement. The room's musty scent is most welcome after spending years drowning in the stench of rotting blood and excrement.

We spend little time here. He just tosses a few jars into his bag, unlocks yet another door and flies out. The fresh breeze of the outdoors brushes against me, but rather than feeling the warm sun heating my steel, I'm greeted by darkened clouds as they thicken and brew their oncoming storm.

The lawn is well-manicured, without a single weed in sight. A fence surrounds it, and on the opposite side of the field is a large mansion. This is clearly the Benson family property, and Lawrence is doing his work right under their noses. I still don't see how he gets the girls out unseen after their untimely demises, but this was a good lead for our escape. It means there are other people around who may help Guinevere should she make it out.

The building he just walked out of seems to be a former garden tool shed converted into a study. At least, as far as surface looks went.

There's a garden growing several bizarre herbs and exotic vegetables at the far end of the lawn. It annoys me seeing such a bounty of ripened food a mere five-minute walk away, and yet Lawrence still only provides the girls with stale biscuits not even fit for roaches or mice to eat.

As he steps further into the lawn, growls from behind the shed startle me. Six black hounds, the largest I'd seen, approach Lawrence with their teeth bared, stopping at a distance of about three feet away from him. A single hand gesture from Lawrence has the beasts lowering their heads and dropping to the ground, but their eyes look furious and they're still drooling as if they're waiting for someone or something to shred apart.

I shudder thinking about what Lawrence might have done to these beasts to earn their compliance, and what they might do when they see an unfamiliar person in their lot. Like, say, Guinevere.

Lawrence heads toward the farthest of the three side doors, an unadorned wooden one. It almost looks out of place on the extravagant manor, and it's surely used mostly by servants.

The door leads into what looks to be a storage pantry of sorts. Bottles of various juices and alcohols, large sacks of flour, and vegetables from the garden line the shelves in the dimly lit room.