She used all of her strength, still holding the gun and pulled the gate open. She balanced against the frame, falling forward into waiting arms as the doors widened.
“Shh.” A voice whispered, hands gripping her arms as she was dragged inside.
The doors closed with a soft click, and darkness consumed her. Outside, she heard her uncle. “Remi! I know where you are. I’ll find you!”
“Are you hurt?”
Twisting in her captor’s arms, she recognized the voice. A strained cry left her chest, his name distorted as she rasped, “Ben! How are you here?”
“Try to keep your voice down,” he whispered. She felt his hands run up and down her waist, feeling her arms until his hand found the gun still gripped in her shaking fingers. “A gun?”
“Yes…” she breathed. “Hugo had it...they fought, and I stole it.”
In the dark, she heard Ben chuckle, though it sounded humorless to her ears. “You are unfailingly clever.”
A knock on the door. “Remi? Are you in there?”
Arnaud had found them.
He doesn’t know that Ben is here, she thought suddenly.
“I can hear your heart racing, my darling niece,” he sneered from the other side.
Ben leaned forward, his chest pressing into her.
“Give me the gun, Remi.” His lips were warm against her cheek, brushing against her ear. His hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun and she released it. Ben moved her slowly, stepping in front of her to act as a shield.
When the mausoleum door opened, Remi closed her eyes.
Arnaud screamed her name one final time as the gun went off.
ANSWERS
BEN
The tunnel had been long, winding through the earth like a serpent.
Ben’s lamp had ample enough light, but he hardly knew where he was going. It wasn’t until the tunnel opened up that he realized he’d reached the end.
“What is all of this?”
He stumbled into an open space crammed with boxes and sheet-covered furniture. Too curious to stop himself, he snuck a quick peek into one of the boxes with his light. A flash of gold nearly blinded him. He reached inside, pulling out a solid gold candelabra. His jaw dropped.
“This can’t be real.”
He put the candelabra down and moved a sheet, uncovering a large oil painting and, beside it, a finely crafted marble bust. Ben could hardly believe his eyes. Treasure. It was the treasure. A man like Arnaud could live comfortably from the rewards each piece would no doubt provide him, or what money he could earn from a wealthier benefactor.
There was indeed gold, but he would never have guessed they had hidden an entire museum.
Now’s not the time! Ben covered everything back up the best he could, planning to return for it later. If there was a later.
With his lamp in hand, Ben searched the rest of the area. Thankfully, there was a second chamber behind the storage, and at its core was a set of stone steps. Ben gave it a once over, confused by its operation.
“Where the hell does it lead?” His voice echoed back his own frustration. He scanned the room quickly, spotting a lone table to one side. Ben hurried to it, relieved to find a set of blueprints.
The drawings were of the pulley and the stairs. Something connected it, and if he was reading it right, then that meant turning the pulley would open the ceiling above the steps. Ben had come so far, and so he did not hesitate to do as the drawing suggested. His father always enjoyed building things, tinkering with them when he could. It was a pastime he thought his father had abandoned, but seeing the tunnel underground in his study, he wondered what else the late Edgar Leone had hidden.
What other surprises lie ahead?
Ben moved to the pulley and gripped the handle. He tried to turn it, winded after only three rotations, but the sound of gears moving spurred him on. Sweat dripped down his face into the damp collar of his shirt. He persisted, and when the ceiling above the steps opened and a mechanism clicked, locking it in place, he knew he’d been right to take the tunnel.
She’s up there. I can feel it.
The steps were a short climb, opening up into a dark room. Once his eyes adjusted, he realized where he was standing. The mausoleum was a pleasant surprise, though shocking that the tunnel brought him there. He thought of Arthur Leone plotting out tunnels and passages to secure the safety of his family.
“Remi! Remi, get back here!”
Ben’s attention turned to the door. Outside, someone had called for Remi. He heard the sound of scuffling, and the creak of iron as the gate opened. His chest tightened, his hands already prying open the second set of doors. A figure fell through, light and breathless. Her blonde hair was unmistakable, even in the darkness. Remi was alive; she was safe.
He thanked himself for leaving the gate unlocked the night they stole away his father’s corpse.
“Shh,” he warned, closing the doors behind her.
Muffled though he was, he could still hear Arnaud calling out for her. Remi was soaked, her breathing shallow and labored. He wondered how long she’d been running in the rain.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Ben! How are you here?” The rawness in her trembling voice loosened the tight knot in his chest. He could have kissed her, he wanted to, but there was a madman stalking her outside. They were not yet safe.
