Page 21 of The Souls of Lost Lake

“Sure you want to go first?” Eddie pointed at the cellar. “Dark as Hades in there.”

The black hole stared up at Wren with the ominous insinuation that not only was it dark, but it hid many untold secrets.

“I’ve got this.” She noticed her voice had dropped to just above a whisper.

Still squatting next to the opening, Troy looked up at her and said, “Maybe Ava Coons is hiding down there.”

“Stop it.” Wren glowered at him.

“There’s a lot of variables to a ghost story,” Eddie interjected, “and not all of them are true. Thereisa possibility of finding a body.”

“Eddie!” That was the last thing she needed to hear from him and his logical way of thinking. Especially with Ava Coons’s spirit hovering over them like a horrid omen, and Jasmine Riviera having gone missing.

“My bad,” he apologized.

Wren nodded while imagining the long, bony arm of a skeleton reaching out from the darkness and grabbing her ankle, pulling her down into the depths.

“Give me the lamp. I’ll go.” Eddie wagged his fingers toward Wren.

She scowled at her childhood pal. “Think again, Edward James Markham.” Wren lowered herself so she sat on her backside, her legs hanging into the cavernous pit. There was a ladder, and she rested her feet on it.

“Careful. That thing is old,” Troy warned.

Great. Now she was really freaked. “Here.” Wren yanked the headlamp from her head and handed it to Eddie.

He laughed and pushed it back toward her. “Wren.” Their eyes connected and spoke a thousand words without even verbalizing them.

Just go. You’re fine.

I’m scared.

Sure. So was every explorer ever. It’s just an old cellar. Go, Wren.

Eddie, I’m scared.

You’re overreacting.

Say again?

I said you’re overreacting, Wren.

“Fine!” Wren’s exclamation of irritation toward Eddie startled Troy. She shot him an apologetic look and then lowered herself into the cellar.

The hole smelled of damp earth, undisturbed for years. As she swung her head around, the light shone against the cellar walls. Roots grew from the dirt. She noted a few boards acting as braces were still standing against the earth-carved walls.

“No body,” she announced.

“Yet,” Eddie teased back.

It was dark. So dark. A few spiderwebs swooped across the ladder and stuck to her hands as Wren gripped the rungs. Their sticky netting was disgusting, and she removed the hand with the most cobwebs on it and wiped it frantically against her jeans.

“You okay?” Troy stared down at her from above, but she couldn’t look up for fear of blinding him with the headlamp.

“Yeah. The ladder seems strong.”

“What do you see?” Eddie asked.

Wren paused a few feet from the floor and scanned the small cellar. The far wall held four shelves. On them were various old tin cans, a few bottles, and a couple of jars of who knew what. A barrel stood near the far wall. Wren stepped to the ground and eased her way toward the barrel. As she peeked in, the light revealed a mound of dirt at the bottom. Maybe old potatoes returned to the earth from whence they had come? There was also a glass bottle. She reached down, careful to avoid one large cobweb that spanned the bottom third of the barrel. Wrapping her fingers around the neck of the bottle, she lifted it.