Unspeakable Secrets of the Aro Valley by Danyl McLauchlan

Author:Danyl McLauchlan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Victoria University Press
Published: 2013-05-11T04:00:00+00:00

Danyl ducked beneath the roller-door and turned on his torch, adjusting the beam to keep it tight. The basement looked the same as it did two days ago when he had hobbled out of it on crutches, grinning and tugging his running shorts up from around his thighs. Now he prowled through the darkness, confident and strong, picking his way through the debris littering the floor.

The basement was L-shaped, and the vehicle lockup was hidden around the corner opposite the elevator. As Danyl neared it he saw light ahead and heard voices. He switched off his torch, moved behind a pile of moulding boxes and peered over them.

The illumination came from the elevator, which was stopped at this floor. Dirty yellow light spilled from the bulb in the lift, but the voices came from further away—from the patch of darkness around the corner.

From the campervan in the cage.

Danyl crept towards the edge of the wall. Then a bright flash of light threw stark shadows across the concrete. He ducked back out of sight. More voices, indistinct words, impossible to make out amid the echoes. He reached the wall, pressed his back to it, poised to flee, and peeked around the side.

There was the cage: a dark bulk in the far corner. The steel roller-door leading into it was open—and so were the doors of the van. Shadows masked its interior. Two black-robed SSS cultists stood beside it, their voices a low murmur. One of them raised his hands to his face and another flash of light filled the basement. Danyl shrank back.

A camera. Pictures. They were taking pictures.

Two days ago the campervan was derelict, abandoned, covered in spiders and dust. Now Campbell’s disciples were down here taking photographs of it at midnight. Why?

And what was Danyl’s next move? Should he wait for them to leave? Retreat? Go home now, empty-handed?

His eyes fell upon the empty, brightly lit elevator. Or maybe he should go further, up into the tower? Make for Campbell’s penthouse tonight. Try to recover Stasia’s stolen letter, as per his promise. This wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. The lift was the safest way in, but if he summoned it from the basement it might make the cultists on the other floors suspicious as to who was down there and when the lift arrived it might be filled with black-robed thugs. But here it was, yawning open, waiting for him. All he had to do was get inside, press a button for a higher floor and the cultists in the van would assume that someone else had summoned it. Simple.

Was it worth the risk? He thought about the levels above: dark mazes teaming with cultists. Then he thought about Stasia’s mouth; her warm, powerful tongue. I will be so very grateful.

He scurried to the wall beside the lift and darted across the lit area in front of the door. No shouts from the cultists—they were occupied with the van. But now he was close up he saw that his plan was doomed.

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