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"Nor should it," I murmured, following her sloping back as it shuffled fearlessly down into the cellar.

Harry brought up the rear, taking care to prop the door open behind us. I liked him better and better all the time. He came down after us, fretting his hands together as if he feared some great calamity.

"Some of this wine is over a hundred years old, I imagine," Eliza continued her narration. "Since my father died, it's just sat here. He was the one who bought it and stashed it here. Every now and a

gain someone will give me another one for some reason, and I just drop them all down here. Sometimes I used to bring them out for holidays and the like, when I had more family around, but mostly the bottles just stay here and turn themselves to vinegar. It's such a shame, it is. I'm glad you mentioned wanting some, I really am. It gives me an excuse to bring some of it up, even if that does mean we've got to go down here for it first. "

At the bottom of the stairs, the floor was flat stone and mortar, and the air was at least ten degrees cooler than the warmish upper floors. Four or five rows of wooden racks extended deeper than our flashlights, each shelf lined with black and green bottles gleaming dimly beneath a furry layer of mold and dust.

I rubbed at my nose, trying to shake away a sneeze that was working its way through my sinuses. I held it back, but the uncomfortable trace of a tickle in its wake left my head congested and achy.

Eliza was taking her time, wiping at labels with the back of her hand and crunching her eyelids together, trying to read in the semi-darkness. "Damn it all," she cursed, wiping at her eyes. "I need my glasses. Harry, would you go grab them for me? They're on the nightstand by my bed. "

"Ma'am . . . I'd rather not leave you down here—" He glanced at me, hesitating to add "alone. " I honestly couldn't tell which one of us he didn't trust—me, or the hundred-year-old biddy squinting at the wine bottles. Either fear would be fair, so I didn't take any offense to it.

"Harry, you get on out of here," she ordered mildly. "I just need my reading glasses. It won't take you a minute. Or do I have to go up all those stairs again and get them myself?"

He groaned a sigh and turned to scale the stairs. "No, ma'am. I'll be back shortly. "

A rectangle of light blossomed above when he opened the door, then shrank to a sliver as he let it fall behind him. He was careful not to let it close all the way; I watched him wedge something between the door and the frame to keep it braced.

"I'll only be a moment," he called. Neither of us answered, so he left, his hasty footsteps evaporating above us.

"Silly man," Eliza muttered, fondling a particularly old-looking bottle. "Look at this, would you? It was fermented before I was born. "

But I was looking into the recesses of the cellar, aiming my light down the rows and seeking the back wall but not finding it. How deep did this place go? Did it run the entire length of the house, or even farther? I looked up above and saw only the bare ceiling supports. No electrical fixtures. Probably no electricity. Something scuttled along one of the rafters over my head. I saw a slim tail whip back and forth, then vanish with a pitter of claws on wood.

"Eww," I complained.

"Don't pay them any attention. I told you, they stay here and don't bother me if I don't bother them. Hey, girl. Come and take a look at this. I wonder if it's any good. Do you know anything about wine? It all gets better with age, doesn't it? Unless it goes to vinegar. Isn't that right? Would it taste good after all these years?"

"No, I don't . . . I don't know anything formal. All I know is what I like. " Another rat scooted along a parallel beam. Then a third. I thought it strange that they were running towards us and past us.

Tatie's assurances aside, I didn't like it. As Eliza continued to demand my attention, my suspicion grew.

"Would you just come here a second? Look at it. I'm telling you, this is older than I am. Don't you even want to take a look?"

I didn't move, I only shined my light in her direction, aiming at her midsection so I could see her clearly without blinding her. "How can you tell?"

"What do you mean, how can I tell? The date's right here beneath the name of the vineyard!" She poked the filthy label with one agitated, bony finger.

"Then why'd you send Harry up to get your glasses?"

She froze, her grip tightening on the bottle.

Something was definitely going on. I figured when I came that the pretense was likely false, but now I was absolutely certain she was up to no good. I backed slowly towards the stairs. "Why did you really send Harry away? You wanted me alone down here—what for?"

She hesitated, nearly fumbling with the bottle before she found her brashness again. "You've got a screw loose, girl. I can read the date because it's printed real big. Here, come and see it. Come and look for yourself, if you want to. "

"No. I don't think I will. " The back of my leg bumped against the bottom stair. Still keeping her in my sights, I began to slowly ascend. "I think I'm going to go get my things and leave. "

"What? Why? What's spooked you so bad? This is ridiculous. "

She was stalling me, but I was letting her. What if she was right? What if I was making a mountain of a molehill? "I shouldn't have come here. This was a bad idea. "

"How so?"

"Because I think that you're—"