Twenty-pound dumbbells lay in another corner, their black iron plates showing scars from repeated daily use. Otherwise, the room was Spartan. Polished hardwood floors seemed free of dust bunnies. Darius kept the place pretty clean.
Curran opened the closet and found an assortment of handmade Italian suits, the kind without any labels in them. Silk ties by the dozens hung in rows organized by decorating styles. Plaids on the right and stripes to the left with paisleys in between.
Rummaging in the back of the closet produced nothing of interest aside from a bunch of old boxes filled with back issues of antiques magazines.
Curran closed the closet door and sighed.
A search of the six-drawer oak bureau revealed nothing other than the fact that Darius wore boxer shorts.
Curran chewed his lower lip.
Damn.
The master bathroom revealed nothing exciting. Darius apparently took some measure of pride in his appearance judging by the volume of moisturizers and vitamin supplements housed in the medicine chest.
Curran checked the razor and found it a single blade type like the kind the old style barbers used to sharpen on the strips of leather.
The shower itself was immaculate. No buildup of curly public hairs or straighter head hairs clogged the drain. No soap scum marred the shower doors.
Guy’s a neat-freak, thought Curran.
In the second floor hallway he paused, looking toward another room that had the door closed. Another staircase lead up, probably to an attic.
Curran could either check out the room or head further upstairs.
Something inside of him said no. Curran suddenly felt a strong pull to return to the downstairs. Before he realized what was happening, he let himself get swept along with the pull and soon wandered into the kitchen downstairs.
Darius liked to cook.
Three garlands of garlic hung from a hook high on the wall. Expensive looking cast iron pots hug over a center island while the stove top had the look of a professional grill. Baskets of onions and potatoes pyramided up in the pantry along with walls of cookbooks.
Curran poked into the cabinets and under the sink but found nothing out of the ordinary.
He found the cellar door almost not knowing what he’s discovered.
It latched at the top and also at the bottom.
Curran undid the latches.
The clicks made a hollow sound that echoed loud across the kitchen, bouncing into other rooms.
A cool breeze swept over him again. Curran almost smiled. I guess, he thought, this is where I’m supposed to go.
He opened the door.
Darkness greeted him, swallowing up the light spilling down from the kitchen. Curran stepped down on to the top step.
And then closed the door behind him.
The darkness seemed absolute and he guessed Darius must have covered up the cellar windows to keep prying eyes from seeing what might be going on down here.
Curran noticed the cold breeze had disappeared.
He stepped down lower, feeling the hard cement wall with his right hand, hoping to find a light switch. The cement crumbled in places, breaking off and making small noises as it plummeted to the wooden steps, bounced and then hit the floor.
His eyes seemed to be adjusting, but to what? The darkness continued to remain impenetrable.
Unless Curran found a light switch soon, he’d never be able to see what was down here.
I should have left the door open, he thought, but then frowned. If Darius came home unexpectedly, the open door would let him know someone was in the house. Better to risk the darkness than Darius knowing he was here.
Curran sighed, wondering what was worse: being found out or being trapped down in the cellar with a potential demon worshipper.
He stepped down lower, at last feeling like he could make out some of the shapes in the basement. His feet touched the stone floor. Down here the air seemed cold and dry, just the way a cellar ought to feel.
Curran frowned. Where the hell was the light switch?
A noise to his left made him jump and almost yank his gun out until he realized it was the oil burner coming on to heat water. It stayed on and loud for a few minutes before mercifully turning off, plunging the cellar back into silence.
Curran held his hands above his head, looking for any strings dangling down from the ceiling that might be connected to a light bulb. His feet kicked something small over and there was a soft tinkle of broken glass.
Great, that was probably priceless, thought Curran.
He moved away from the staircase and tried keeping his back to the wall. There seemed to be too many cardboard boxes stacked against the wall for Curran to stay flush with it, but he tried anyway, still hoping to find a light.
After ten feet, he stopped, suddenly aware that he’d begun sweating profusely. Curran knew the effort of moving carefully and quietly was taking its toll on him.
Where was the light switch?
He paused, sucking in a deep breath of cool air, feeling some measure of strength come back to him. A thin sliver of light penetrated the darkness further to his left.
Curran guessed Darius must have been using dark cloth to shield the window. Curran would have loved pulling it all down so he could see what the hell he was doing, but that would be noticeable from outside in case Darius came home suddenly.
Not that Curran really expected Darius to show up unannounced. That’s why Kwon was sitting on him.
He moved further left. His goal was to make a complete circuit of the cellar, until he found the light switch. Barring that, he’d go back upstairs, open the door to the kitchen and maybe try to find a flashlight up there as well so he could come back and see what was what.
Given that the windows were blocked up, maybe there was something worth looking at down here.
Or at least he hoped there was.
He hit a corner, shifting suddenly again to the left and feeling his way with one hand low and one hand high looking for the light. More cardboard boxes barred his way and Curran had to mold his body to contour around them.
He kept moving.
His foot kicked what felt like a pile of stone dust, sending it flying up everywhere. Curran caught a whiff and sneezed hard and loud.
He froze.
Did he hear something?
Did someone hear him?
He waited almost five minutes before moving again. The stone dust had settled.
He reached another corner and began moving along the wall opposite the staircase. More boxes. More boxes.
Curran frowned. This guy must be living out of these things, he thought.
Another corner and Curran began to get worried. There was still no sign of a light switch anywhere. Obviously, Darius had chosen to position the stupid thing where he alone would know where to find it.
Curran reached the last corner and found himself back by the staircase. He slumped down to a sitting position, letting his hands slide down with him.
And scarcely believed it when his left hand found what felt like a switch by the foot of the stairs.
He shook his head. The switch seemed to jut out from the stair tread itself, close to the wall. No wonder he’d missed it the first time.
Curran took a breath, closed his eyes and switched it on.
Harsh light made the black of his eyelids go yellow. Curran turned to the wall and blinked a few times.
He grinned.
He could see at last.
He glanced down and saw the stairs themselves were painted black. The walls were painted black, too. In fact, everything was painted black.
No wonder his eyes hadn’t been able to make out all that much, even after adjusting to the darkness.
Curran turned and faced the middle of the room.
And froze.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kwon hummed another bar of the Phil Collins song and then sighed. Some kind of morning. He wasn’t even trained in surveillance and here he was watching some goon who just might turn out to be a very bad demon dude.