Midnight's Lair Read online

  Darcy remembered it all as she walked alongside Greg in the fluttering glow of his torch. Always before, her memories of that night had been tainted by thoughts of their break-up, the letter Steve sent during her first spring at Princeton. Now, she felt none of the usual pain. Steve was part of the past, and Greg was with her and she felt the same sense of relief and daring that had possessed her after escaping from the senior dance.

  The springy feel of wood under her shoes pulled Darcy out of her revery. She was on the dock. She stopped. 'I forgot the pick,' she said. 'Do you want to go back with me and get it?' she asked Greg. She wondered if he could hear the tremor in her voice.

  'Sure.'

  She unhooked the flashlight from her belt and turned it on. 'We'll be back in a few minutes,' she told the others.

  Greg gave his torch to Jim. Beth, Carol and Helen formed a circle around the small flame as if it were a campfire.

  Back on the concrete walkway, Darcy said, 'We walked right past it. Stupid. I was daydreaming.'

  'About getting out of here?' Greg asked.

  'Not exactly.' She played her flashlight beam over the shiny limestone wall to the right, and spotted the grotto entrance. Taking Greg's hand, she walked closer. Her mouth was dry. Her heart beat fast. Though her mind hashed a reminder of her earlier encounter with Kyle at the grotto, she wasn't bothered by it. What happened with Kyle didn't matter. Not at the moment.

  Greg, at her side, she climbed the stone stairs.

  ***

  They entered the grotto. The pale beam of the flashlight illuminated the wheelbarrow, the pickaxe leaning against its side, her blouse and bra draped over one of its handles.

  'This is where I changed,' she explained.

  'And became what?'

  She turned to Greg. Smiling, she shook her head. Then she looked down and began to hook the flashlight to her belt. As the metal clip slipped into place, Greg put his hands on her shoulders. He eased her forward, and she wrapped her arms around him and tipped back her head. He kissed her. It was a gentle, tentative kiss at first. Then his lips parted and Darcy stroked them with her tongue and their mouths joined, pressing hard and sucking. His hands roamed her back.

  This is crazy, she thought. The others are waiting.

  Let them wait.

  Her hands went under Greg's sweatshirt. His skin was damp, but warm. His tongue filled her mouth. She squirmed against him, rubbing herself on his firm body. His hands moved up and down her sides, caressing her through the thin fabric of the windbreaker. She wanted them inside, wanted them on her skin.

  His mouth pulled away from hers. 'We'd better get back,' he muttered.

  'I know.'

  'The others.'

  Nodding, she dropped her hands to her sides. He was right. No matter how much she wanted this time with Greg to last, it wouldn't be fair to make the others wait. 'Duty,' she muttered.

  'After we get out of here… maybe we can spend some time together.'

  'That would be nice.'

  'A lot of time.'

  'I think I'd like that.' She put her hands on Greg's hips. 'I think I'd like that very much.'

  He lifted a hand to the side of her head, he fingered her hair, her ear, her cheek. 'I want to be with you in the sunlight.'

  She kissed his palm. Then Greg drew her to him and for a moment their mouths met.

  His breath was warm on her lips when he said, 'Let's bust outa here.'

  'As fast as we can,' Darcy said.

  They turned away from each other and went to the wheelbarrow. Greg hefted the pickaxe and swung it onto his shoulder. Darcy touched her blouse and bra. They were wet, very cold. She considered putting them on, not because she saw any use for them, but because she was tempted by the idea of taking off her windbreaker in front of Greg. Even if she kept her back to him… She imagined him stepping up behind her and putting his arms around her, his big hands closing over her breasts. She felt warm and snug in the windbreaker. The bra and blouse would feel awful. Worth the discomfort, though. Worth it to stand in front of him, bare to the waist, and have him touch her. She would turn to him, and he would gaze at her, and then he would bring her up against him…

  Greg reached out and squeezed a sleeve of the blouse. 'Yuck,' he said. 'You're not thinking about putting these on, are you?'

  She shrugged. She blushed, but her face was in shadow so she was sure he didn't notice.

  'You'd freeze. You'd better forget it.'

  And she blushed even more as she plucked the front of the windbreaker away from her belly and said, 'It's just that I feel so naked in this.'

  'You're not. It's perfectly circumspect.'

  'I bounce when I walk.'

  'Not much,' he said, 'and very nicely. You don't want to put those things on. Come on, let's go.'

  They turned toward the opening, and Darcy unclipped the flashlight from her belt. 'You've been watching me bounce.'

  He laughed softly. He patted her rump. He said nothing.

  They trotted down the stone stairs. Darcy saw the others waiting on the dock, still clustered around the tiny fire of the torch in Jim's hands.

  It's over, she thought. And it's their fault.

  Don't blame them, she told herself. They're simply part of this, the same way Greg is part of this.

  And this is just fine.

  Though Darcy ached with a mild feeling of loss because she could no longer be alone with Greg, the ache was mixed with a sense of fullness, of wonder.

  She felt so close to him.

  It's almost as if we made love, she thought.

  We did make love. That's exactly what we were doing in there. Just didn't have time to finish.

  We'll finish when we get out of here.

  After I find out about Mom. Mom's all right. She has to be.

  Entering the glow of the torch, Darcy switched off the flashlight and put it on her belt. 'All set?' she asked.

  'That ought to do the job,' Jim said, nodding toward the pickaxe.

  'It will,' Greg said.

  Darcy led the way past the first boat and stopped beside the other. 'Okay, everybody in.'

  Greg lowered the pickaxe carefully into the boat. He and Darcy held onto the gunnel while the others climbed in. Carol and Helen took seats in the middle. Jim stood near the bow so the torch would be at the front. Beth sat down behind him.

  'Go on and get in,' Greg said. 'I'll tow it to the wall.'

  'Maybe I should try pulling it along on the spikes.' Greg shook his head. 'If it was too dangerous before, it's too dangerous now. I don't want you catching one of those things in the face.'

  'I could try,' she said, though she knew he was right. Even under normal conditions with the lights on, the method of propelling the boats forward by grabbing the spikes along the cavern wall was hazardous. It required a firm stance, good balance, and frequent ducking to save your head from jutting rocks. Attempting it by torchlight, or even with the flashlight, would be foolish. But she hated the idea of Greg going into the water.

  'I'll have to get wet again, anyway,' he said, 'when we reach the wall.'

  'But…'

  'You can just enjoy the ride, this time.' He stepped out of his shoes. Putting a hand on Darcy's shoulder to steady himself, he peeled off his socks. 'I'm not going to get my clothes wet, this time,' he said. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and gave it to her. Then he opened his pants, pulled them down his legs and shook them off. He was wearing white briefs.

  Darcy looked at the women in the boat. Only Carol was watching Greg.

  Darcy stepped forward to block her view.

  Greg gave the pants to Darcy, then squatted and put his shoes on his bare feet. While he was retying them, Darcy crouched and picked up his socks. She pressed the bundle of clothes to her chest, and put a hand on his back. He was shaking. 'Are you sure…?'

  'No problem.' He stood up. He grinned at Darcy in the faint, shimmering light, then clapped his hands once, pivoted away from her, and trotted up the dock. Just
past the bow of the boat, he dived.

  He sprang off the dock, stretched his arms out beyond his head, and the dim shape of his body flew low over the Lake of Charon. He hit the surface almost flat. Water splashed up, droplets glinting in the torchlight.

  Darcy shuddered. She could feel the terrible shock of cold.

  Greg came up, swam in a circle, and stopped in front of the boat. 'Are you all right?' Darcy asked.

  'It's… invigorating.'

  'I'll bet.'

  'Nice dive,' Jim said.

  As fast as she could, Darcy untied the boat. She climbed in next to Jim and knelt, looking down at Greg. The boat began gliding forward.

  His arms and shoulders were shiny in the torchlight. His hair, flat against his head, looked oiled down. His face was beaded with water. His eyes were fixed on Darcy. His lips were peeled back, showing his teeth in a rigid grimace.

  Darcy covered his hands with hers. They felt as if they'd been dipped in ice water.

  He winked at her. 'Don't look so miserable,' he smiled. 'It's not bad. Doesn't even feel as cold as before.'

  'When we get to the wall,' Jim said, 'it'll be my turn. You've done enough already. I'll knock the hole through that wall.'

  'Well, don't try and deprive me of my chance to warm up swinging the pick. I'm looking forward to it.'

  'We can all take turns,' Beth said.

  'But me first,' Greg insisted.

  'It's a man's job,' Jim said. From the tone of his voice, Darcy knew he'd made the remark to tease Beth.

  Beth rose to the occasion. 'Oh yeah, bub? How'd you like a fat lip?'

  'Apologize, Jim,' Greg said as he pulled the boat along. 'Don't get us in trouble with the broads. We're outnumbered.'

  'Broads?' Darcy asked. She grinned.

  'We can take 'em,' Jim said.

  'Maybe in a fair fight,' Greg told him. 'But dames don't fight fair. They bite, pull hair…'

  'Do this,' Darcy added, and leaned out over the bow and pressed a hand down on top of Greg's head. His head went under. The cold water wrapped Darcy's hand to the wrist. Immediately, she felt bad. Her throat tightened.

  Stupid! Not funny at all!

  'That wasn't necessary,' Helen said.

  'Score one for the females,' Beth said.

  Jim was laughing.

  'Is he all right?' Carol asked, worry in her voice.

  Greg was still under. Then his head bobbed to the surface. His eyes crossed and he spouted water from his mouth. The thin stream arched over the front of the boat, splashed Darcy's chin and ran down her neck. Yelping, she clutched her throat, but not before a few drops made their way inside the windbreaker. They slid like melted snow down her warm skin, and she slapped a hand between her breasts to snuff the drops as if they were burning embers.

  Greg looked up at her, a silly grin on his face.

  Darcy leaned out over the water, the metal gunnel pressing into her ribs. She took Greg by the ears and pulled him gently closer and kissed him on the mouth. 'That's for dunking you,' she whispered. 'Forgive me?'

  'No need to forgive you - I got even.'

  She settled back, holding his hands again.

  The boat moved along, silent except for occasional murmurs of water lapping the hull. Jim held the torch low. Its charred end almost touching the water beside Greg. The broken plank burned near its middle, the flames clinging to one edge like fingers trying to hold on. The light given off wavered, faded and grew and dimmed again as the flames struggled. Surrounding the fire was a faint golden aura that shimmered on Greg's wet skin, spread a dim layer of brightness on the water beside him, and hung in the air like a mist. Darcy could barely make out the wall of the cavern to her right, almost beyond the reach of the glow. Though she thought she knew every inch of that wall, the squirming light and shadows gave it an alien appearance that she found somewhat unnerving.

  Don't let it get to you, she told herself. Just the same old wall.

  It looked alive.

  Goosebumps crawled over her skin.

  This is ridiculous. Your mind's doing a number on you. She reminded herself of other times she hallucinates this way: getting into the car after a scary movie and feeling that someone might be crouched on the dark floor; reading late at night and suddenly afraid to look at the window, certain a face is pressed against it; taking a bath and hearing a faint noise somewhere in the house, getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom and suspecting that one of the shadows along the way might lurch out and rush at her. Nothing more than the mind playing tricks, teasing, making shivers.

  Darcy wanted to force her gaze away from the wall, but she was afraid not to watch it.

  'I think this little lake has grown since the last time,' Greg said.

  His voice erased Darcy's anxiety.

  She looked down at him. She slipped her fingers around his wrists. 'We must be almost…'

  Black descended. Someone behind her gasped. Jim muttered, 'Shit.'

  Where the torch had been, there was a vague patch of red. It moved upward. Darcy heard a puffing sound. The red brightened. A tiny flame licked the darkness, then sank. The puffing sounds went on - Jim blowing on the embers. The crimson glow swelled and faded, but with each breath it weakened.

  'For Godsake,' Helen whispered. 'Darcy, don't you have a flashlight?'

  'It's all right,' she said. She plucked the flashlight off her belt and turned it on. The beam shot into the blackness, pale and cold after the mellow light of the torch. The bright disk at its centre caught the edge of Satan's Buoy, no more than two yards behind Greg's back. 'You'd better watch where you're going,' she said.

  He glanced over his shoulder. 'Woops.' He sidestepped, turning the boat so it would pass between the small jagged island and the side of the cavern.

  'That's where Tom fell,' Beth said.

  'Yeah, that's the place.' Darcy raised the flashlight. It made a tunnel of brightness through the black, and stopped at the barrier of Ely's Wall.

  Today, it seemed more like a door than a wall - a door of rocks and conrete.

  Darcy supposed that Ely had chosen this particular spot for his barrier because nature had nearly done the job for him. The cavern seemed to end here except for the fissure that would have provided a passageway before it was closed off. The gap must have been no more than a yard in width.

  There had been no Lake of Charon before the wall. The river had probably been a shallow stream here, just as it still was on the other side of the dock where the cavern was higher. Darcy imagined that the water had not even reached the tops of Ely's shoes as he crouched and cemented the first rocks into place.

  Though he'd left a narrow gap at the bottom, the wall had restricted the natural flow of the River Styx. About four feet of his handiwork was now below the water. The visible portion looked like a three-foot square.

  That's where we'll break through, Darcy thought. Don't want to mess with what's below the water line, or we'll have the lake pouring into the other side.

  'Where do you want me to park this thing?' Greg asked.

  'Might as well put it all the way up,' she told him.

  He stepped out of the way, held onto the port gunnel, and eased the boat forward until it gently bumped to a stop.

  'Okay,' Darcy said. 'I'll secure it.' She asked Jim Id move back, then picked up the bow line, stepped in front of him, and tied the rope around a spike jutting out of the water at her shoulder level.

  The spike she'd been holding while she delivered her story about the origin of Ely's Wall to the tourists.

  It seemed like days ago.

  She remembered being annoyed by Kyle's lecherous gaze.

  Wonder how Paula's getting along with him, she thought.

  'How about some light?' Greg asked.

  She turned around, keeping one hand on the spike, and aimed the flashlight high so it wouldn't shine in Greg's eyes as he reached up and accepted the pickaxe from Carol.

  With the pick held overhead like a soldier's rifle, he waded
alongside the boat, past Darcy, and took a few steps to the left. He stopped in front of Ely's Wall and looked back. 'This'll just take a minute,' he said, smiling.

  'Hope so,' she told him. 'Try not to smash things up below the water.'

  'Aye-aye.' He faced the wall, lowered the pick, lifted it over one shoulder and swung. The blade struck with a deafening metalic clamour that made Darcy flinch. A knob of rock flew off the wall and splashed in front of Greg. Darcy's ears were still ringing when he slammed the pick into the wall a second time.

  'Jesus' Carol's voice.

  'Loud enough to wake the dead,' Beth muttered.

  Greg pounded the wall again and again, striking it high near the area where Ely's rocks met the cavern's smooth, ancient limestone. Chips flew. Chunks fell and thumped the water. Most of his blows seemed directed at the mortar filling the spaces between the rocks. Sometimes, entire blocks came off, hitting the water with such force that Greg's face was sprayed.

  As the opening grew, Darcy expected to see the darkness of the cavern on the other side. Instead, she saw another layer of rock. Greg kept hacking and prying at the outer wall until the opening was large enough to crawl through - if there hadn't been the second layer.