Would Oliver do such a thing? Bram couldn’t think straight, but he didn’t truly believe Oliver had it in him to be so cruel. Still, what could they do? Would Oliver insist upon marriage? Make Bram become Miss Hallam again? He couldn’t bear the thought of it, not even if the prize was Oliver.
He had hoped the walk would help him clear his head, but his thoughts had tangled themselves into knots he felt he would never unravel.
It was perhaps a couple of hours later when he crossed the long drive that led to the house, turning when he heard a commotion at the gate. Two carriages clattered to a stop, and certain that the drivers had made a mistake since it was a well-known fact that Abaddon didn’t receive visitors, he decided the men could use his assistance. Had he been thinking more clearly, he would’ve heard the men approaching him from behind. Pain whipped through the back of his head, and the hazy fields around him turned sideways.
He had a moment to feel the rising panic washing away all hope of ever seeing Oliver again before the darkness came for him. Vernon had found him.
Bram woke to a screaming headache. His hands were tied in front of him as he lay curled on a bed of what he only imagined was scratchy straw. Because he couldn’t see a thing through the blindfold. Was he alone? Or was Vernon watching him, enjoying the show as he tried to wriggle himself upright? He raised his hands to lift the blindfold, surprised to find himself alone in an empty vault.
He frowned as he took in the high ceiling and the dull yellow brick. Where was the light coming from? There were no windows and no lamps. Bram gasped when he realised what else was missing.
There was no door.
Footsteps echoed on the other side of the wall, slow and steady, but nobody stopped outside. Nobody was coming for him. The footsteps faded away.
How had he even got here? And how could anyone have left him inside a room with no point of entry? Perhaps… Bram crawled off the hay bed on knees and elbows, brushing clumps of hay aside in search of a trap door, but there wasn’t one. He felt for gaps between the bricks, first on the floor, then on the walls. How did he get in here? And where exactly was here?
The impossible light flickered with a groan, but it wasn’t the light groaning. An apparition floated into the room, like a human-shaped fog, its head tipped back as it continued its wailing, floating straight past Bram and disappearing into the opposite wall. Was it a ghost, or was Bram hallucinating? The light continued to flicker as somewhere beyond the tomb, a child cried. He’d never heard a child cry like that, like it was pained and hollow.
He yelled for help, banging uselessly on solid brick. He screamed until his throat was sore, but who would hear him? More ghosts? He pressed his head to the bricks as tears slid down his cheeks. Was this really all he could do?
He huddled against the wall, his cold hands tucked between his thighs. Nobody would ever find him here. He’d freeze to death, and his baby would die with him.
This time, when the darkness flickered at the edges of his vision, he welcomed it. Welcomed dreams where Oliver loved him and their child. Dreams were he fished a coin from his pocket and sent a wish to the heavens that Oliver would forget him. That he would never know of Bram’s fate. Then he let the darkening despair take him.
He woke to a crumbling sound, like the walls were slowly caving in. Icicles prickled behind his eyes, and he buried his face in his knees to stave off the chilling pain. He was cold all over, and when he opened his eyes, the impossible light was gone.
“Help me,” he whispered, the words making it only so far as his thighs.
The crumbling continued, bigger chunks of wall clattering to the floor. He scrambled away from it, crying into the dark. Wherever he was, the building was falling down, and Bram would be buried beneath it.
He heard a voice beyond the wall, but he couldn’t hear what the voice was saying, so he moved closer. “What did…” He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out as more than a whisper this time. “What did you say?”
“I said move away from the wall.”
“Oliver?” Bram cried. “Oh, God. Oliver, is that you?”
“Yes, love, it’s me. Move away from the wall.”
Bram sobbed as he scrambled to the point furthest from the disintegrating wall, and with a mighty crunch, it came tumbling down, leaving a gap large enough for Bram to climb through. A sulphuric stench invaded the room as he rushed to Oliver, holding his bound hands out in front of him.
“I’m so sorry I left, love,” Oliver told him as he got to work on the ropes tying Bram’s wrists together.
“No, I… I pushed you away.” Bram blinked away his tears. “I pushed you away because I was scared.”
“I know. Come on… climb through.” Oliver helped Bram out of the tomb, pulling him into his arms. “And just so you know, I will never forget you.”
Bram looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks. “You heard me?”
Oliver reached for Bram’s hand and gently uncurled his fist, revealing a coin in his palm. “I will always hear you, Bram.” He slid the coin into Bram’s jacket pocket, and laid a kiss on each of his fingers.
“I thought I was going to die,” Bram whispered, glancing around at the strange, dark place that had the appearance of an ordinary street, apart from one startling fact—it was underground. “Where are we?”
“Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh?” Bram glanced left and right, spotting candles in windows. The street was narrow and sloping, the ground beneath them compacted, dirty water running along a gutter on the far side. The buildings were tall, but he’d definitely been right in his assessment. “Where is the sky?”
“We’re fully underground,” Oliver said. “This is Mary King’s Close.”
“How did I get here? Was it Vernon?”
“You don’t remember?”
Bram shook his head.
“You were kidnapped by Jack Wish, used as bait. He’s got Armando.”
His relief spiralled into panic. “No.”
“I need to get you to safety before I can help him. Come on.”
Bram took Oliver’s hand. “Where is he?”
Oliver led him further down the curious underground street. “London.”
“How are we to get from Edinburgh to London?” he asked, dashing along behind Oliver.
“The same way I got here.” Oliver grinned. “By puddle.”
