The Woman in the Sunken Mirror - CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 3The EstateThanks for reading Wayfarer Tales! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
Surrounded again by water, that same deep blackness.
But Barnett sensed light—faint, yet perceptible—emanating from somewhere within him.
He focused his light into the blackness.
There she was, the woman, the siren.
Ethereal and drowned.
Seaweed enclosed her motionless body.
She made no sound, and yet he felt the waters sucking at him, dragging him, calling him to her.
His light barely illuminated her pale sunken face.
Two soulless eyes sprung open as she reached for him, seaweed entangling his legs and arms.
'Free me!’ she screamed and whispered at the same time.
Decaying bodies of hundreds of women floated up around Barnett as he fought with the reeds.
The bodies reached for him, pulling, clawing, dragging, as they sunk together into the blackness.
Barnett watched the siren fade from view as his vision grew dark.
Saturday – 7:30 amMore nightmares…
Barnett had been convinced they were leading him to Elizabeth—but now, he wasn’t sure.
They had grown darker.
And a siren…
He didn’t know much about mythology, but he knew that dreaming about a siren was probably a bad omen.
Especially today.
Barnett had always experienced vivid dreams, and he’d never put much stock into the meaning of them. But ever since the chapel, the same dream continued to haunt him in a more visceral way. It left him with a lingering sense of dread, as if he were swimming in deep water with nothing but darkness beneath him. He didn’t know what waited in the black depths, and it terrified him.
Taking a moment to steel his nerves, he looked over the pile of gear and his notepad from the night before.
I have my plan, just try not to get caught, he consoled himself.
Picking up his gear, he grabbed a protein bar and made his way toward the door.
Forgetting something? he thought.
‘Oh shit’, he glanced at the pink yoga mat.
‘Guess I’m going to need you today’, he smirked to himself.
He, however, had no intention of doing any actual yoga.
Saturday – 8:30 amBarnett arrived early at the Spencer estate. He wanted to familiarize himself with the house as much as possible before the workshop. As soon as Penelope headed out to the terrace, he would slip away and begin the investigation.
It was another beautiful morning, a clear blue sky with a gentle breeze. It was great weather for the workshop, which hopefully meant he’d be able to snoop around uninhibited. The sun beat steadily through the tree line to the east. To the west was the shimmering blue of the lake, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shoreline. The estate itself looked more or less exactly as he had seen in the photos. Nestled against the backdrop of the towering and tree covered dunes, it had been built on a relatively flat area at the top of a hill. The acreage around the estate was also noticeably lacking in any significant trees, other than a few ornamentals planted into the landscaping. The house had a clear view, both of the lake and of the circle drive leading up to it.
Parking downhill from the main driveway, Barnett poked his head into the back of the van. The power block was running. His remote drives were running on standby.
Satisfied, he slammed the door shut and made his way up to the house. Quite a few people had already arrived. The driveway to the estate was so large that it accommodated almost all of the guests' vehicles. Barnett had thought he might get a head start on scouting the place out, but that wasn’t going to happen because everyone seemed to be mingling in the front room…
Right by the elevator…damn.
Barnett walked up the driveway past the fancy cars, down the sidewalk, and up the stairs to the main entrance to the house. The entry had a high portico, with two oversized wooden doors that formed an oval at the top. The doors had been propped open, and on one side was a billboard that read ‘STONE WELLNESS WORKSHOP – 9:00.’ Just through the doors, he could see crowds of women, standing and visiting.
“They say she’s the best”, a soft voice piped from behind him as he approached the door.
“Who’s that?”, asked Barnett, turning to face the woman.
He was greeted by a petite brunette with brown eyes and soft features. She wore a pink camisole with gray leggings and pink trainers. Her light brown hair was pulled into a loose knot, and an enthusiastic smile covered her face.
“Penelope”, replied the woman, “they say she’s the best at everything she does. And I guess today that includes yoga.”
“You follow her then?” asked Barnett as they walked in the house.
“You bet”, she responded, “She’s such an inspiration. I feel really fortunate to come today. She only had twenty open spots, and it was booked almost immediately when she posted about it months ago”.
Booked…months ago? Then how had I managed to land a spot? …
“Hey, I’m Amanda by the way, maybe we can be mat buddies?” she asked as she lifted an open hand in his direction.
“I’m Matthew”, he said, taking her hand for a friendly shake. “I probably need somebody to keep me from making a fool of myself.”
“No worries, mat buddy. Amanda is here to save the day!” she grinned widely, and her voice carried a hint of flirtation as she struck a heroic pose.
Barnett’s face flashed amusement. “Honestly, I’ll probably need those super powers if I’m going to make it out of here in one piece”, he mulled, quickly scanning the room with his eyes. “But first, I think I’m going to take a moment to gawk at this fancy house.”
“Great! I guess I’ll see you in abit then. I’m going to grab some munchies before things kick off”, chimed Amanda as she veered toward the bar full of refreshments.
Free from his new friend, Barnett paused for a moment to consider the front room. He had seen it from photos—the arching ceiling, with a single exposed monolithic wooden beam tying the residential half of the structure to the kitchen and hearth room, where the ceiling and roof began to slope downward. To his left were the stairs he’d seen, and right next to them was the elevator. Unlike the rest of the house, which had been immaculately preserved in its iconic mid-century style, the elevator looked older, like something from the gilded age. It had a single embellished wrought iron door with glass, and an antique light inside. He could see the controls through the door, which appeared to be the only part of the apparatus that was not antique. It had a brass turnstile interface that clearly displayed three floors.
So, there is a basement.
The only camera in the room was mounted on the wall facing the elevator doors. And it was easily within reach—with the help of something to stand on. Past the elevator, the front room ended with two large triangle windows, scaling the height of the room, from the ground to the second story. They overlooked a portico, followed by the terrace and pool, and in the distance, the bright gleam of Lake Michigan.
“You’re wearing women’s pants”, chimed a voice from Barnett’s peripheral.
“Man, you sure are on my case today, Amand—”, he paused as he turned to face the woman.
Shit.
Dark hair greeted him, and emerald eyes. She looked at least 5 years younger than the photos he’d seen. She was even shorter in person, her head barely reaching his sternum. She had near perfect facial symmetry, skin flush with color from long days in the sun, and a lean build from an active lifestyle. A row of diamond studs decorated both of her ears, and one nestled in her belly button. She wore a powder blue sports bra with black leggings and white training shoes.
“You must be Penelope”, he said, caught off guard.
Focus, Matt, she has information you need. Butter her up, and see if she cracks.
“I’m Matt. I was just admiring your gorgeous house”, he said, regaining his confidence.
“Ha”, she laughed, “I wish this was my house. I am but a mere tenant of this humble abode”, she said with a playful smirk.
“If not yours, then whose?” Barnett pried, playing ignorant.
“That would be Dorothy”, Penelope replied. “If we’re lucky, she might even make an appearance today. She’s been talking about trying to be more active lately”, she added. “We shall see…”, her voice was low as she trailed off.
Well, there’s one burning question to strike from my notepad. Dorothy and Penelope were, in fact, not the same person. This Dorothy sounded like a total recluse, and it’s no wonder I had difficulty finding information about her.
“Anywho…”, she said in a playful tone, her eyes rolling to the side and biting her lip. “Your pants…”, she fixed her gaze firmly at his waist.
Wait, is she checking me out?
“You must be new to this”, she said, pointing at the drawstring to Barnett’s chinos, which clearly displayed the logo for female sportswear.
Damn, guess I did forget something this morning after all.
“You’ve got me pegged”, relented Barnett, shifting his stance awkwardly.
“I’m sorry sir, but I think you’ve shown up to the wrong class. The pegging workshop is next weekend”, she smirked, with a glint in her eye.
Before realizing it, Barnett let out an audible, “Ha”.
Without warning, Penelope walked over, and gently reached down to lift up his fanny pack full of highly illegal devices, grab his laces, and tuck them back in so they couldn’t be seen. She let her hands linger for a moment before pulling them back.
“There, nobody can tell that you’re crossdressing now”, she smiled, teasing him with her eyes.
Barnett froze.
Damn she’s charming. She’s playing me like a fiddle.
His face flushed warm as he paused to consider her advances.
I wonder if this is how she convinced Elizabeth to leave the bar with her...
Penelope seemed to respond to his embarrassment, and pulled her hand up to his shoulder, patting him with an expression of sympathy.
“I apologize for my forwardness. I don’t have many guys show up for my workshops. You’re a rare breed”, she said, scrunching her forehead.
“Except, of course, for the creepy kind of guys who follow you home, stuff you in the back of their car, and lock you in their sex dungeon”, she joked playfully, with another wild glint in her eye.
Damn, that was messed up. Why did she just say that?
Barnett’s stomach turned. He felt a throbbing behind his temples, this time so strong it made his ears ring.
If she took Elizabeth, then she is the kind of person who would do something like that…
“But don’t worry”, she added, “I’ve got my eye on you Mr. Matthew. You won’t be stuffing any girls in the back of your car on my watch!” Her tone was suggestive, as she walked toward the front of the room.
“Ladies and gentle-man”, she announced, smiling sarcastically in Barnett’s direction, “let’s move things to the terrace so we can begin today’s session.”
“Don’t worry mat buddy!” chimed Amanda, who seemed to materialize out of thin air, “I’ve got your back”.
Shit, there goes the plan, Barnett thought to himself.
My only chance to scope things out is during the session while Penelope is distracted. But now she’s watching me like a hawk, and I’ve got Amanda following me everywhere.
Barnett watched as the small gaggle of women filed out through the patio, and onto the terrace, bubble teas in one hand, yoga mats in the other. Barnett needed to come up with something fast, or he would miss his chance. He looked around the room, out the doors to the patio, then at Amanda, slurping on her newly filled bubble tea.
Bingo.
“Here Amanda, you’ve got your hands full, let me grab the door for you”, Barnett remarked, moving around Amanda to grab the door with one hand.
“Why thank you Mr. Gentle-man”, she teased him, pausing briefly to let him open the door.
Right as she was about the pass through the doorway, Barnett pushed his torso out into the path of her right arm.
The arm holding the bubble tea…
Amanda let out a high-pitched, “EEP”, as she proceeded to dump copious amounts of tapioca riddled tea all over his front.
“Omigosh, I’m sooo sorry”, she gasped apologetically.
“Oh shit”, Barnett exclaimed, feigning embarrassment, “I’m fucking soaked.”
Amanda desperately grabbed her towel and began patting down the front of Barnett where the tea had spilled.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite man in distress”, snarked a familiar voice, as Penelope made her way toward the scene of the crime.
Looking Barnett up and down with the same sympathetic expression she had given him mere moments ago, she snatched the towel from Amanda’s hands, and began patting him down herself, seeming to focus on the area below his waist.
Of course, mused Barnett. She’s shameless.
“Shit, your shirt. It’s going to stain”, fussed Amanda as she began pulling it off of him.
Now here’s something, being fussed over by two women at the same time, one trying to remove my shirt, and the other giving undue attention to my lower extremities.
A look of anger covered Penelope’s face as she watched Amanda fuss over him.
Is she jealous?
She cleared her throat. “As much as I’m sure we would all love to see Mr. Matthew half nude during our session today, I think it might distract somewhat from our goal of mindfulness and meditation”.
And here it comes. I’m about to have my excuse to canvas the place while they all piddle around outside.
“Matthew”, she stated, looking Barnett straight in the eyes, no playfulness or sarcasm this time. “Why don’t you excuse yourself to get cleaned up. There are plenty of clothes in my closet that would fit you. My room is up the stairs, and second on the left. You can rejoin us after you get cleaned, as long as you are done being a distraction”, she scolded.
Damn, that was sharp, and condescending… I don’t even want to know why Penelope has men’s clothes in her closet, but maybe I already know the answer. She wasn’t exactly shy in her sexual advances. Regardless, without realizing it, she played right into my hand.
The girls slowly returned toward the terrace led by Penelope, with Amanda reluctantly following. Looking back at Barnett, she mouthed the words, “I’M SORRY”, as she walked away.
I couldn’t have done it without Amanda, though. She had, in fact, turned out to be a great mat buddy.
Finally alone, Barnett had exactly what he wanted.Time to get lost on the way to Penelope’s room.
He headed in the direction of the garage, keeping an eye out for cameras along the way. Past the kitchen, through a mudroom, and into the garage. He opened the door and peeked for cameras or alarms.
There were two cameras in each corner of the garage, both facing out toward the three garage doors—two wide doors, and one small. Each garage door had a long frosted window toward the base, filling the garage with natural light.
Hugging the inside wall, he carefully moved to examine the vehicles while avoiding the cameras.
One pearly red Maserati MC20, state tags, no fleet number. One classic white Rolls-Royce, Silver Cloud, state tags, no fleet number. Mint condition. Impressive. One Land Rover Defender, black, state tags, no fleet number. The final vehicle wasn’t a car at all, but a motorcycle. A Kawasaki ZX-11, black, no tags. Suspicious.
In the far corner by the single small garage door, there appeared to be a mechanical bay with a hydraulic lift. The lift was surrounded by a workbench, tools chests, and shelves with boxes full of parts. On the bottom of one of the shelves, a narrow box caught Barnett’s eye. He lifted the flap of the box to reveal a stack of numbered decals—fleet numbers.
Strike one.
Leaving the garage, he made his way back through the kitchen, and into the hearth room. He glanced outside. The ladies were all occupied with their session on meditation, Penelope’s back was to the windows, and she appeared totally immersed in her lesson.
Time to canvas the living quarters.
Barnett moved toward the stairs, and hesitated next to the elevator. He felt something ominous as he looked at the elevator. Shifting his attention to the elevator camera, he realized the angle of the camera would pick him up as he climbed the stairs. Good thing Penelope had given him express permission to go upstairs. He briefly pondered his plan. After canvassing the rooms, he would need to figure out the elevator. It would be less suspicious if the camera recorded him going upstairs, but not coming down.
He grabbed a barstool and walked up below the camera. Reaching into his fanny pack, he fished around for one of his disruptors.
Shit, they’re soaked in bubble tea. So much for the genius plan.
He gently pulled them out and examined them. Two had clearly short circuited, with black scorch marks where the wires met the wireless switch. The third battery had power, but the switch wasn’t responding. He grabbed his multitool and quickly spliced a switch from one of the dead units onto the one with the good battery. He checked his phone, and saw a signal.
Phew.
He climbed up onto the barstool, and carefully taped the unit to the base of the camera. Giving it a quick test, he noticed the power light flicker for a moment on the camera before returning to normal.
Returning the barstool, he made his way up the stairs and into the living quarters.
Second on the left, she said.
Barnett poked his head in the first room, a guest room, nothing of immediate interest.
He came to Penelope’s room, and opened the door. To his surprise, the room was bare. Aside from the basic furnishings, there was nothing interesting about the room. It didn’t even look like anyone slept there.
Kind of like my apartment, Barnett mused.
The only touch of personality was a small picture on the nightstand. It was Penelope and another woman at the beach. Removing the back of the frame, Barnett found a date with a small handwritten note,
‘Penelope and Dorothy, Upper Peninsula, 2013. Rabble Rousers.’
9 years later, and Penelope had barely aged. She must have some crazy genetics.
Replacing the frame, he moved toward the wardrobe. Opening the closet he found a disorganized pile of men’s clothes, some in bags, and some on the floor. Many of the clothes were long out of fashion. One of the bags had been labelled, ‘Edmund’.
Dorothy’s deceased grandfather.
Digging around, Barnett was able to find a white golf shirt and some bright joggers that looked straight from the 90s.
Better than nothing, I guess. And it will give me a cover story if someone catches me snooping.
Leaving Penelope’s room, Barnett headed across the hall to the study. The room had a large carved desk, covered with papers and open books. Behind the desk was a fancy swiveling leather office chair. Facing the desk were two smaller leather chairs. There was a beautiful Persian rug strewn across the floor. All the walls were covered in bookshelves except for the western wall, which housed a large casement window overlooking the terrace and lake.
Scanning the room, Barnett didn’t see any cameras, so he headed in to snoop around. The papers on the desk appeared to be research notes, but everything was covered in a thin layer of dust.
The office must not have been used in awhile…
Most of the research notes were incomprehensible ramblings about Ojibwe and Potawatomi myths, as well as a map of the estate. Digging around through the drawers, he found nothing of note, just old cigars and a flask of whiskey. The bookshelves were filled with all sorts of academic books—science journals, anthropological and cultural commentaries, Greek and Western mythology. Framed on the wall was an excerpt from The Canadian Magazine dated 1824, titled ‘Venant St. Germain and the Monster’. The text was faded, though, and Barnett couldn’t make it out. He spied scuff marks on the wall next to the frame. Pushing the frame to the side, he noticed an electronic safe mounted into the wall.
Here we go…
Stooping down, he examined the safe. It was an electronic keypad safe, and it appeared to be hardwired. Wedging his multi tool into the edge of the plate around the keys, he popped the interface open. Pulling out his electronic tunneler, he unplugged the keypad, and wired in his tunneler. Switching the device on, he began the tunnel and sat back to wait. Almost all electronic safes had a reset combination or a master key. His device was able to instantly identify the make and model of the safe, and execute all known reset combinations, or fake a master key if needed. After a few minutes of waiting, he heard the whirring of the electronic motor, as the locks released and the door popped open.
Presto…
Pulling out the contents, he examined what was inside.
There were a few valuable pieces of jewelry, some old credit cards, a few thousand dollars in cash, titles for cars, the deed for the house, a last will and testament from Edmund signed over to Dorothy Spencer. There was also another, albeit much older looking, last will and testament for one Marcus and Hanna Spencer Estate, signed over to Edmund. Barnett kept thumbing through the documents, uninterested in the money or valuables. He saw an autopsy report for the same Hanna Spencer who had apparently died from asphyxiation.
She suffocated? Curious.
There were also SSN cards and birth certificates.
Hmm, what’s this? …
There were multiple SSN cards for Penelope, using various last names.
Well, that’s definitely suspicious…Man, I could spend hours in here. This is a goldmine of dirty secrets.
His head snapped up as a soft voice from the next room caught his attention. He thought he heard steps walking down the hallway.
Shit…
Throwing the items back in the safe, he closed the door, popped the keypad back on, and replaced the picture frame. Then poking his head out into the hall, he caught a glimpse of a grey form entering one of the rooms, and closing the door behind it.
Is there someone else up here with me? …
Barnett cautiously made his way toward what appeared to be the master suite. Realizing the door was locked from the inside, he pressed his ear to the wood.
Nothing…wonder if I was imagining things.
He pulled out his lockpick, and went to work. A few seconds later he heard a soft click as the door handle began to turn.
Fuck.
Quickly stuffing the lockpick back in his pocket, he stood upright to meet the curious face of a woman.
It was Dorothy. But she looked much older than in the picture he had just seen, unlike Penelope who had barely aged.
“Oh hello, did Penny send you to convince me to come outside with her? I can’t stand it when she holds these pointless gatherings—so much noise, and always someone snooping where they shouldn’t!” She shot daggers his way.
“Oh no, ma’am!”, Barnett apologized. “I had a little accident, and Penny—err, Penelope, sent me to her room to find a change of clothes.” He gestured to his mismatched attire.
Dorothy looked him over through the crack of her door, “Penny always had a soft spot for scruffy men, just ask Edmund.”
Just ask Edmund? Dorothy’s grandfather? Was there something between him and Penny—err, Penelope?
“I’m really sorry to bother you, ma’am, I just got lost trying to find the restroom.”
“No worries young man. Just be sure to tell that rabble rouser Penny to quit trying to drag me into her hairbrained schemes.”
“Will do!” replied Barnett.
“Now if that’s all, I should much like to get back to my book”, she grouched, shutting the door, and the handle locking with a soft ‘click’.
The plot thickens…, thought Barnett as he retreated down the hall.
I’m running out of time, so I should hurry if I’m going to investigate the elevator. One more stop before returning to the front room. The solarium.
Barnett didn’t expect to find anything there, but it never hurt to be thorough. He hadn’t encountered any cameras or security on this side of the estate, so he felt himself relax a bit, and his pace eased up.
Approaching the solarium, he could see the warm glow of sunlight refracting through glass panels onto stone tile. The room was filled with tropical ornamental plants, and a woman in a white dress was tending the plants with a watering can. She looked up as Barnett descended the spiral staircase from the living quarters. She gave a pleasant smile, and resumed tending to her watering.
Barnett found her lack of suspicion…suspicious.
He drew closer to the woman, attempting to get a look at her features. She remained completely uninterested in his presence.
She was tall, and well built. Thick blonde hair…closely matching the description he had of Elizabeth.
Surely it couldn’t be her…but I need to be sure.
Barnett stepped closer to the woman.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but you seem awfully familiar. What’s your name?” he asked her gently.
“My name? Why it’s Elizabeth of course.”
Fuck.
“Would it be okay if I take a look at your wrists?” he asked.
I have to be sure.
She set the watering can down, and calmly stretched out both arms, slowly turning them over.
Nothing.
“Thank you, ma’am, just thought we might know each other. I’ll let you return to your work.” He cautiously backed away, as she silently returned to watering the plants without the slightest response.
Well, that was strange, Barnett thought to himself, making his way through the front corridor, and beneath the living quarters.
It was almost like she was high on something. It would make sense to keep her drugged if she was being kept against her will. But Barnett couldn’t be certain that it was actually the Elizabeth he’d been looking for. For one, she didn’t have the heart tattoo on her wrist. There were other things too. Her build was less athletic—which made sense if she had been held captive for a year. But some of her proportions were off. Her face had a different symmetry to it, and she appeared to be more developed in her female features and shape. Her hair was lighter and she also appeared a bit shorter.
I suppose cosmetic surgery could account for the differences. And tattoos can be removed. But why? Why go to all the trouble of abducting her and altering her appearance, just to have her watering plants in the solarium?
He would need more to work with if he was going to help her. He needed to find files, or computers, or anything. Everything he’d found so far was suspicious, but it was only circumstantial. He needed something solid and traceable for the detectives.
As he approached the elevator, he opened his phone and activated his disrupter before the camera had a chance to catch him. He checked his watch, 30 minutes had passed, and Penelope would likely be suspicious soon. He glanced through the window,
Penny is still going strong with her ‘hairbrained schemes’, Barnett smirked to himself.
He approached the elevator, sliding the wrought iron door to the side, and stepping in.
The interface was the only new part of the apparatus. Modern in nature, the panel and buttons were styled in antique brass to match the rest of the elevator. But they were illuminated from behind with LED lights. There were buttons for three floors. The main level, the living quarters, and the basement. He punched the button for the basement with no response. He saw no key or panel for emergency controls.
So much for the fire keys.
He would have to put the elevator in service mode using a trick he learned in the service. Most elevators shared the same control interfaces, and they were notoriously susceptible to tampering. He examined the interface. Three buttons seemed to be loose, Main Level, Intercom, and Close Door. He pressed and held all three. The backlight blinked twice, and the interface popped open. Behind the panel was a digital keypad, as well as a little red lever for manually moving the elevator. They were covered in cobwebs.
Must’ve been awhile since she’d been serviced…
He hastily grabbed the red lever and slowly pushed it downward.
The elevator gradually began to move downward, and then more rapidly. Barnett released the lever, but the elevator continued to descend at a quickening pace.
Shit.
As the lift plummeted at a frightening speed, Barnett braced himself against the bars of the door.
Five seconds…ten seconds…twenty seconds…
Almost half a minute before the descent began to slow. For how long he’d been falling, he was certain it had been hundreds of feet.
Much more than just a basement…he thought.
The lift finally halted with a loud, ‘SCREECH’.
He peered through the glass and saw concrete walls on all sides. He opened the door. Looking down, he noticed a small gap toward the bottom of the door, apparently leading to whatever floor he had landed on. He bent down and looked through the opening. It was mostly darkness, but he thought he could see a faint glow in the distance. The gap was almost big enough to squeeze through.
Think Barnett…
Glancing at the brass handrail along the door, he gave it a forceful kick.
‘SNAP’, he heard one of the brackets crack.
Using the leverage of his body, he wiggled the bar back and forth until it broke free. He then placed the bar into the gap, and began to pry. The whole lift strained, and slowly moved downward. When he let go of the bar, the lift rose back up. Prying again, the whole lift shifted. This time he wedged the bar between the floor of the lift and a seam in the concrete wall of the shaft.
With just enough space, he desperately squirmed through the gap. His exit dislodged the bar, and the lift floated back up, and out of reach.
Well damn, guess I won’t be going back up that way…
Using the flashlight on his phone, he turned himself to get a sense of his surroundings. It was dark, but from what he could tell, he was in a massive stone chamber of some sort. The ceiling was high, but he could faintly make out the shapes of columns, eerie in form, and unnerving to look at. The light from the elevator illuminated a nearby stone staircase leading upward toward the wall of the chamber.
Likely to a stairwell of some kind…
The chamber appeared to be mostly empty. Switching off his light, he honed in on the faint glow he had seen before. Approaching the source of the light, he discovered a small wooden end table and a lone wooden chair. Both were antiques. A hand-woven blanket was draped over half the chair. And on the end table, a lone candle was burning. Judging by the wax, the candle had been burning for awhile. The end table had a single drawer with a patinaed copper handle. Barnett grabbed the handle, and slid the drawer open.
He saw for a moment his own likeness, shrouded in shadow, candlelight dancing across his face.
It was a small silver hand mirror, bright and polished. He reached out his hand and grabbed the mirror, his sweaty hands smudging the bright silver finish.
What is something like this doing all the way down here? And why does it fill me with a sense of dread?
Looking back in the mirror, he saw his shadowed form shift to that of a woman, dark and ominous. His neck bristled as he felt a chill of cool air sweep through the chamber, followed by an ethereal whisper…
‘Free me…’
He spun around, mirror in hand, and came face to face with the silhouette of a dark figure.
The woman…the siren.
"Free me…” he heard, his veins turning to ice.
In a split second, the shadowy figure rushed toward him. He glimpsed the swift glint of piercing green eyes, followed by dark tendrils grasping at him from below.
Shadow took him, as his world went dark.
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