Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,343

Everything looked the same, untouched. The portrait of the Stonewells was still on the wall, and I paused to stare at it, smiling at the boyish smirk Josiah wore before stroking the frame. I could feel my guys’ eyes on my back, could sense that they weren’t sure what to say or how to act. It was my first time being here since Josiah’s death, and even I didn’t know how I felt about being here again. I struggled between nostalgia and hope, but also a deep, crippling sadness that wouldn’t go away.

Master Stonewell’s office had been untouched since his death. Josiah once told me that he wasn’t sure he could fill his shoes, so I steered clear of the dark, dusty room because it was a reminder of the burdens piled on his back. But now, I knew the full story. And I wondered if Josiah couldn’t come here because it reminded him that he killed who he thought was his father.

The desk was dusty and full of papers thrown carelessly along the top of it. An empty whiskey glass was on a coaster near the side table, near a chair that was facing the outside window, now sealed shut with a metal shutter.

I trailed my fingers along the dusty desk until I got to the oddly shaped statue that looked like a teardrop suspended in air. I’d seen Master Stonewell do this a dozen times, but it still felt wrong even now to touch something that had been ingrained in me as a child not to touch. My hand gripped the round base of the statue, and the room shook as a portrait of Mistress Stonewell on the wall slid up and disappeared into the ceiling, revealing a safe that was about six feet tall and three feet wide.

“That's a fucking huge safe,” Jacob’s mindspeak said, breaking the silence of the room.

“I never knew what was inside of it,” I said with a frown before gliding towards it. I had written down the numbers on a scrap of paper in my pocket to ensure that I didn’t forget them, but I had the five digits memorized now. A keypad appeared at the side of the safe’s door, and I made quick work of keying it in.

8...8...9...8...2

With the last number, a clicking sound filled the room, and Jacob’s mindspeak spoke once more. “Anyone else think this is creepy as fuck?” he asked, and I turned around just in time to catch Huxley elbow him in the chest.

I inhaled the stale air of Stonewell Manor and grabbed the handle, opening it while silently praying for something to finally work in our favor. I’d half expected a letter from Mistress Stonewell describing their location, or maybe even leftover Heat from Master Stonewell’s collection. But I didn’t expect to find a staircase leading below the manor.

“I’ll go first,” Huxley said before passing me. He smelled like sweat and rust. I nodded before filing in behind him, Patrick and Jacob headed up the rear. “Did you know this was down here?” Huxley asked while descending the stairs. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead.

“No, I didn’t.” It made sense though. Since the plague, wealthy families became obsessed with the idea of the end of the world. They suped up their homes and built fortified bunkers. The Stonewells were always ahead of the trends, and if survival was trending, then they’d have the best damn bomb shelter in town.

“This is creepy as fuck. God, it looks like the sewer,” Jacob’s mindspeak said, and though the tone was even, I sensed the energy of fear rolling off his back.

“It’s okay. This was where Mistress Stonewell wanted us to go,” I offered.

“The same Mistress Stonewell that was fucking Emperor Lackley? Not sure I’m willing to trust her,” Patrick muttered under his breath. The staircase wound around, and we followed it down. The moment Huxley’s boot hit the concrete floor, the room illuminated with more light, and a bright humming sound echoed around us.

I had to adjust my eyes to the stark brightness of the room. It had a certain moldy smell, and there was heavy machinery lining the walls. In the corner, I’d noticed a living area fitted exactly like the sitting room upstairs in the central part of the home. A small kitchen was opposite it, and a line of beds filled the center of the room.

“About time you showed up,” Mistress Stonewell said. Her voice echoed around the room, and I spun around to greet her, ignoring