Jeremy frowned at the tube. "What is-? Ah, I see."
"Male."
"It would appear so."
"And almost certainly adult, despite the shrinkage." I waved at the jars. "I'm not so good with the pickled and the less whole pieces. You're better at anatomy, so I was hoping you could identify them."
He scanned the shelf. "Most are organs, primarily animal, though it's not always easy to tell."
I lifted my gaze to the floating fetus. "And that?"
"Pig."
"Whew."
He moved a couple of jars aside with his gloved hand, to get a look at the ones behind it.
"Before you get too involved in identification, there's something else I should show you."
I pointed the flashlight at the trap door.
"Now, that's promising." He opened it and peered down.
"See anything?"
"Not without going down." He turned around and started doing just that.
"Are you sure we should?"
He paused. "You're right. You'd better wait here."
That wasn't what I meant, but he'd already vanished into the darkness.
I knelt and leaned into the hole.
"Jeremy?" I passed down the flashlight.
"No," he said. "You keep-"
"Take it. All I'm doing is sitting here."
He came up a couple of stairs and took the flashlight, then disappeared, and the room went dark. Very dark. I lifted my hand and couldn't see it.
I tried not to think of those suspended eyeballs staring down at me.
A random thought flashed through my brain. Was there any chance I could reanimate those… bits? By accident? I tried not to think of it but, of course, thought of it all the more, images of B-grade horror movies flashing past, those bits and pieces taking on life-
Silly, of course. It's tough enough for a necromancer to bring a full body back to life. Not the sort of thing I could do accidentally- thank God. And if a zombie loses a body part-which they tend to do, with the rotting and all-the parts don't stay alive, creeping along of their own volition. But how much of a corpse had to be left in order to be raised? Would a head be enough? Were there any heads in those jars?
A light flickered in the hole. Jeremy coming back? The light bobbed away again. I stuck my head down as far as I could without toppling in headfirst, but the ladder stretched down a chute at least four feet long. I twisted around and put my foot on the first rung. Just a quick peek.
My toes slid off the rung and I had to catch the edge of the hatch to keep from falling.
Yet another reason why heels were a really bad idea. Maybe if I took them off… No, I'd probably miss the rungs in the dark and still fall down the ladder.
Someone laughed. I went still. A muffled male voice. Ghosts? A rattle, then the creak of an opening door, keys jangling against the steel.
"Think we're the first ones here."
"Looks like it." A woman. "Oh, here comes Eric."
Okay, not ghosts. Worse. I leaned into the hatch, to call for Jeremy, then froze, picturing the open door just a few feet away. Feeling my way out, I went through the curtain, then slid behind the half-open door.
"Where's that light switch?" the woman asked.
"Beside the front door."
"Ah."
I eased the storeroom door shut, turning the handle and engaging the lock with a quiet click.
"Let there be light. Hey, Eric…"
As the voices continued, I hurried back to the trap door, hands out again, feeling my way in the pitch blackness. As the curtain tickled my fingertips, I paused. Should I lock the door first? I hadn't felt a locking mechanism when I'd closed it. Did you need the key to relock it? Or, worse, did it engage automatically, and I'd just locked us in?
No time to check. I pushed past the curtain, then pulled up short as I envisioned myself falling through the hatch. I crouched and felt my way forward. A flicker of light from below answered my question. Before it disappeared, I found and gripped the opening, then I ducked my head into the hole.
"Jeremy?" I whispered.
My voice echoed in the chute. No answer came from below.
More laughter and more voices from the shop. Why were people coming here after midnight?
Uh, probably because the shop's owner is the head of a sex cult. They wouldn't hold their meetings Saturday afternoons at the library.
"Jeremy?"
My whisper bounced around again in the chute, swallowed by bad acoustics.
A voice sounded just outside the door-the door to the storeroom containing the magic and bondage gear needed for a proper sex cult meeting.
I found the ladder. Took two steps down. Paused. Maybe they'd go for drinks or something first. Loosen up the inhibitions. Always worked for me.
Keys rattled, then slid into the storage room keyhole. I grabbed the hatch lid with one hand and the rug with the other, and closed the door as I pulled the rug over it. It wouldn't be perfect, but it should pass a casual glance.
I hurried down the ladder, my toes somehow managing to keep their traction until I reached the bottom.
The roving light swung my way. I raised my finger to my lips and hurried forward, my heels clicking on the concrete. I stopped to yank them off. When I lifted my head, Jeremy was beside me.
"People," I whispered, pointing up.
A soft curse. He looked up, as if straining to hear, then shook his head. The floor must have been too thick.
"Hmmm, what have we here?" a voice whispered in the dark.
I jumped, but Jeremy seemed unperturbed. I took the flashlight from him and shone it around. A heavyset, middle-aged man with a receding chin walked through a stack of boxes, his gaze fixed on me.
"A redhead. Very nice."
"Who are you?" I whispered.
The man stopped, squinting, as if trying to figure out who I was talking to. Jeremy looked down at me and frowned.
"Ghost," I whispered.
"Gho-" the man began, then curled his lip. "Necromancer. Tried to trick me with that flashlight, hiding your glow. If you're here to report me-"
"Report you for what?"
He dropped his gaze. "Nothing."
"Ask him if there's another way out," Jeremy said.
"Way out?" the ghost said, hearing him. "Now why would you want to leave?" He bared his teeth in a nasty smile. "I think you're really going to enjoy yourself."
I cast the light around. We stood in the middle of a large base-mentlike room with concrete floor and walls. To my left, some occult symbols had been painted on the floor… right beside a row of hooks embedded in the concrete. There were more hooks on the walls.
I turned Jeremy. "I think we'd better find our own way out. Fast."
"Agreed but…"
He looked around. I followed his gaze. A single room, with no adjoining doors or halls.
I turned to the ghost. "There's a way out, isn't there?"
He smiled.
"There is," I said to Jeremy. "Probably hidden behind these boxes and crates."
"You're not going to find it," the ghost said in a singsong voice. "It's very well hidden. And locked. Better just give up now."
Jeremy strode to the wall and waved me over. "You go that way. Stay along the wall. If you need any boxes moved, just whisper."
I nodded and we went in opposite directions.
Boxes and crates of various sizes were all around the perimeter, some stacked to the ceiling. I strapped my shoes together and draped them over my arm, then started moving along the wall, searching for any kind of door.
"Nice ass," the ghost said as he followed behind me. "Not too big, not too firm. You like to use it, don't you? Put that extra wiggle in your walk, teasing all the boys."
I reached the first stack of boxes. The gap behind it was big enough to slide through, so I did.
"You know what that says to me?" the ghost continued. "It says 'I'm just dying for you to throw me over a table, hike up my skirt and-'"
He kept talking. I stopped listening.
I reached a four-foot crate pushed against the wall. I grabbed the sides. It wouldn't budge.
"Jeremy?"
He was at my side before I could whisper again. One heft and the box was moved.