Read Online The Laughing Corpse by Laurell K. Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

swear.”
    â€œI do not trust you, Dominga.”
    She laughed. “But it is her choice, Manuel. I have not forced her.”
    â€œYou have blackmailed her, Dominga. Blackmailed her with the safety of others.”
    She looked back over her shoulder. “Have I blackmailed you, chica ?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œOh, she is your student, corazón . She has your honesty. And your bravery.”
    â€œShe is brave, but she has not seen what lies below.”
    I wanted to ask what exactly was in the basement, but I didn’t. I really didn’t want to know. I’ve had people warn me about supernatural shit before. Don’t go in that room; the monster will get you. There usually is a monster, and it usually tries to get me. But up till now I’ve been faster or luckier than the monsters. Here’s to my luck holding.
    I wished that I could heed Manny’s warning. Going home sounded very good about now, but duty reared its ugly head. Duty and a whisper of nightmares. I didn’t want to see another butchered family.
    Dominga led Manny from the room. I followed with Enzo bringing up the rear. What a day for a parade.

6
    T HE BASEMENT STAIRS were steep, wooden slats. You could feel the vibrations in the stairs as we tromped down them. It was not comforting. The bright sunlight from the door spilled into absolute darkness. The sunlight faltered, seemed to fade as if it had no power in this cavelike place. I stopped on the grey edge of daylight, staring down into the night-dark of the room. I couldn’t even make out Dominga and Manny. They had to be just in front of me, didn’t they?
    Enzo the bodyguard waited at my back like some patient mountain. He made no move to hurry me. Was it my decision then? Could I just pack up my toys and go home?
    â€œManny,” I called.
    A voice came distantly. Too far away. Maybe it was an acoustic trick of the room. Maybe not. “I’m here, Anita.”
    I strained to see where the voice was coming from, but there was nothing to see. I took two steps farther down into the inky dark and stopped like I’d hit a wall. There was the damp rock smell of most basements, but under that something stale, sour, sweet. That almost indescribable smell of corpses. It was faint here at the head of the stairs. I was betting it would get worse the farther down I went.
    My grandmother had been a priestess of vaudun. Her Humfo had not smelled like corpses. The line between good and evil wasn’t as clearcut in voodoo as in Wicca or Christianity and satanism, but it was there. Dominga Salvador was on the wrong side of the line. I had known that when I came. It still bothered me.
    Grandmother Flores had told me that I was a necromancer. It was more than being a voodoo priestess, and less. I had a sympathy with the dead, all dead. It was hard to be vaudun and a necromancer and not be evil. Too tempting, Grandma said. She had encouraged my being Christian. Encouraged my father to cut me off from her side of the family. Encouraged it for love of me and fear for my soul.
    And here I was going down the steps into the jaws of temptation. What would Grandma Flores say to that? Probably, go home. Which was good advice. The tight feeling in my stomach was saying the same thing.
    The lights came on. I blinked on the stairs. The one dim bulb at the foot of the staircase seemed as bright as a star. Dominga and Manny stood just under the bulb, looking up at me.
    Light. Why did I feel instantly better? Silly, but true. Enzo let the door swing shut behind us. The shadows were thick, but down a narrow bricked hallway more bare light bulbs dangled.
    I was almost at the bottom of the stairs. That sweet, sour smell was stronger. I tried breathing through my mouth, but that only made it clog the back of my throat. The smell of rotting flesh clings to the tongue.
    Dominga led the way between the narrow walls. There were regular patches in the walls. Places where it