Flask of the Master by Kimbra Swain

Author:Kimbra Swain [Swain, Kimbra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947709775
Amazon: B097CJNV8M
Goodreads: 58440570
Publisher: Argento Publishing
Published: 2021-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

A half-mile past the entrance to the distillery we parked Hardy’s car on a small dirt road that curved along the edge of the property. I hoped that we could sneak in the way I used to when I was a kid. Unfortunately, the back-exhaust vent was a lot smaller than I remembered and neither of us could fit through it. We improvised and climbed through a slightly larger window that was unlocked.

The shadows of the column stills lined the walls like the bars of a jail. We used to have night security, but we hadn’t seen anyone. I was going to rely on the fact that the distillery was mine if we got caught. The honeyed smell of bourbon filled the air. It tickled my nose bringing back memories of my childhood.

“Alright. How do we get into this underground secret facility?” Hardy whispered.

“This way.”

We silently moved through that room into a separate room where the regular tours weren’t allowed. The one that they went through was set up to look like the real room, but we didn’t want to contaminate the real product with the public. This was the actual testing room.

I veered to the left where a large brick archway led to what should have been the door to the basement. Instead, I hit a wall. Like, actually ran face first into a brick wall that shouldn’t have been there. The wily coyote would have been proud.

“You okay?” Hardy asked.

“This wall shouldn’t be here. My memories are jumbled, but this wasn’t a wall!” I whispered in frustration.

The jingle of keys startled me. Hardy grabbed my collar and dragged me behind one of the pot stills. We squatted down as a portly man in a blue shirt with an insignia on the shoulder walked by us. He looked harmless, but we didn’t want a confrontation. He whistled and twirled his night stick as he walked through the building. Faraday had its own version of Paul Blart. Hardy had forced me to watch the comedy, and I had enjoyed it more than I thought I would. When his loud patrol became faint, we returned to the wall that shouldn’t be there.

“Look at this,” Hardy said. He ran his fingers over an indention along the brick.

“Keyhole?” I asked.

“Keyhole with a sulfur symbol.”

I took my uncle’s key out of my pocket, held my breath, and stuck it into the slot. It wouldn’t turn. It felt like it was jammed. Hardy pushed my hand out of the way and tried to turn it.

“Don’t break it!” I scolded.

“Maybe there is a different key,” he said.

“But where?” I asked.

“What does that key open?”

“His old office.”

“Is it in this building?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s a different building. It’s around front near the entrance.”

“Might as well check it out. There is a way to open this. There has to be,” he said, tapping on the brick arch.

“You are all about this now,” I asked skeptically.

“Look. I know you are paranoid, and you have every right to be, but I’m on your side, Galan.

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