“Let me grab a flashlight,” Matthias says.
“Don’t worry about it.” I shake my head and flip a small metal switch that rests where the stairs begin to descend. The whirring of a generator fills the cramped space below our feet before the lights crack, flicker, and then turn on. “Gross.” I pull a face as I step down onto the rotting wooden stairs.
They creak with my weight, and I take my time as I descend into the first hallway, taking it slow. The steps are covered in a thin layer of mold, and I don’t want to trip. Looking around, I let my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The concrete walls are covered in mildew and combined with the warm yellow of the lights, it has the space feeling cramped and dark due to the dark tinge of green.
“This place looks like it has been abandoned for years,” Matthias notes.
“How did Kenzi even know of this place?” I wonder. “In fact, how are the two of you so chummy?” I push forward, refusing to look back at him.
“Mark has been monitoring dark web chatter,” he admits. “Not much goes on without him knowing, especially when it pertains to the Bratva. There were several dark web pings about a possible assassination attempt.”
“So someone leaked the information?” Who would do that? Or even know? Does that mean that the Dollhouse has a leak?
“Kenzi did,” he tells me. “She wasn’t the docile little assassin they thought she was.”
“I wasn’t the target, was I?” I ask.
“No,” he assures me softly. “There is no way anyone would believe that an assassin would get the drop on me directly. Not when I am so well protected.”
“I was your weakness,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
There is a beat and then he whispers back, “yes.”
Kenzi never believed Christian. She never wanted to kill me.
“She loves you very much, Ava.” Matthias voices my thoughts. “Kenzi hates that we didn’t bring you in on the plan.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask.
“Because you needed a push,” he admits. “You’ve always been someone’s pawn. I wanted you to become your own person. Even if I told you about our plan, I could have easily made youthe queen of my empire, but if you knew I was there, behind the scenes, you would have never taken it into your own hands. You would have questioned every decision and leaned on me for support. I didn’t want that, and it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to be pushed out of your comfort zone.”
“I might have gone a little overboard.” I shrug my shoulder shyly, glad the dim lights hide the flush that creeps up my cheeks.
“Oh, I’ve heard everything about you, my little psycho.” There is a smile in his voice. “It was a turn on hearing about your little exploits. My hand and I are very busy imagining all the ways you’ve gone around kneecapping people.”
“I didn’t kneecap the last one.”
He chuckles. “That’s true.”
We fall into a companionable silence as we walk along the long stretch of hallway, peering into the worn, cleared-out rooms. I don’t know what the hell Kenzi was talking about but there isn’t anything here. Not of any worth, anyway. So, she found an old trafficking barn, good for her. I am about to suggest we turn back when something catches my eye.
“I know that symbol.” I point to the all-seeing eye carved inside of the Seal of Solomon. “Vas showed this to me, it’s the crest for this secret society thing.”
“Potestas Omnis,” Matthias breathes, coming up behind me.
“You’ve heard of it.”Duh, Ava, obviously he has.
“We’ll compare notes when we get back,” he says, running his hand over the symbol. Pressing onto the wooden door, I push. It slides open with a groan. The room is empty just like the others.
“There might be hidden compartments.” I run my hand up and down the brick on the right side of the wall, stretching tall before moving toward the floor. He follows suit on the other side. Inch by inch I search for any type of false or loose brick.
“Pay dirt,” Matthias calls out. He shifts one of the bricks from its spot. It doesn’t look like the rest of its counterparts which have greyed with age. This one is certainly duller, but it is slightly misshapen, most likely from weather damage. The fake brick is barely a few inches long and the other bricks on either side of it have been carved out to make room for something else.
A small wooden box.
Carefully, he removes it from its hiding place and hands it to me. The design is Irish, I’ve seen something like this before, but I can’t place where. On the top, molded from silver, is the Celtic love knot.
My breathing stills as I open the lid, the wood of the box soft from being exposed to the elements for who knows how long. Inside there are small trinkets and baubles, things a child would have. I remove them one by one and place them in Matthias’s outstretched hand. Rings, a baby tooth in a small clear baggy, a lock of red hair, some crayons, a photo of a baby and a young woman I don’t recognize.